Page 32 - The Adventures of a Freshman

was full of Freshmen and when the door opened they were talking at a great rate about football in loud voices;
but as soon as they saw it was not a Sophomore they began to talk in low tones about the procs again.

Lee said, "I don't know whether you know all these fellows," and began to introduce him in an informal way.

"Oh, yes, I know Young," said one of them. It was the football man who had been next to him in the rush.
Others said, "I know your face--how are you, Young?" Some only nodded and then seemed to ignore him.

He felt a little constraint at first; some of these were prominent members of the class, and he felt that they had
a poor opinion of him, but presently they all fell to talking about their plans so earnestly--and included Young
in their glances occasionally--that soon he too began to get excited like the rest of them. He felt the thrill of a
conspirator.

But they did not talk much longer, for Lee said: "Young and I are going to bed. You fellows had better sneak
off and get some sleep too." He had already begun to undress. "You are to sleep here, Young," he added; "my
room-mate has gone to Trenton to start out early from there."

The others were leaving--not all at once, for that would excite suspicion if any Sophomores might be passing
by. They left in ones and twos.

"Good-night, Lucky, we'll see you later, good-night." Some of them remembered to say good-night to Young,
too. "Good-night, old man," said one of them, a jolly fat fellow.

Young did not sleep very much, but Lucky was quite worn out and dropped off immediately, and then sprang
half out of bed when the muffled alarm clock went off under his pillow. It was four o'clock. They were to
meet the others at a spot on the Theological Seminary grounds at 4.30. From there they were to work their
way down toward Trenton on the old stagecoach highway and meet Stevens (Lee's room-mate) and the others
coming up.

It did not take long to slip out of the room and into the silent corridor. The lights were all out. It was dead
dark.

"Take hold of my arm," said Lee, "I know these corridors as well as our own house at home."

Their footsteps seemed to echo and re-echo as they went down the three flights of stairs.

The big clock in the hall ticking loudly showed thirteen minutes after four. "We have plenty of time,"
whispered Young, as Lee opened the front door.

The outside air was cold and damp; Young shivered as it struck his face. He was glad he had put on his blue
flannel shirt, the one he used to plough corn in. It was black outside except for a symptom of dawn in the East,
which made the darkness even more ghastly. Someone was walking somewhere. They could hear the
footsteps on the pavement.

They reached the corner.

"What's that?" said Young.

"Where?" exclaimed Lee, in a whisper. He was one of the pluckiest men in the class, yet he jumped back a
little.

"There," said Young, "on that tree-box. It's a proc."