Page 37 - The Adventures of a Freshman

Just then a lazy voice was heard. "Heads out! Sophomores are making Freshmen paste procs! heads out--,
everybody look!" It was a Senior leaning from an upstairs window of University Hall. He was in his pajamas.

Meantime, Ballard, who loved to show his power, had stepped arrogantly into the ring saying, "Do you hear
what I say, you little fool! Pick up that brush and get to work."

"Heads out, everybody, heads out! Lots of fun," cried the sleepy-looking Senior.

Windows began to open and frowsy heads and yawning faces to stick out from all over the University Place
side of the big building.

Lee thought, with true loyal horror, of how, if he should do as Ballard said, the Sophomores would taunt him
forever afterward. He fancied how his own classmates would feel about it when they heard that their secretary
had aided in posting those scurrilous proclamations. But what was there to do? He had only one classmate
with him and there were a dozen Sophomores about him--no, eleven, for the twelfth was now standing close
beside him, shaking a big fist in his face and saying, "See here, you little fool, are you going to do what I tell
you or not?"

Little Lee calmly looked up into Ballard's face and said, "No, and you can't make me."

"You'll see whether I can make you or not," returned Ballard, and with that he grabbed the little fellow by the
coat-collar and shaking him back and forth roared, "Now, you little fool, you paste that proc or I'll paste you
on the jaw with this fist." Possibly he really meant to do it, but, at any rate, he did not, for just then Young
cried: "No, you won't, Ballard! No, you won't! Don't you shake him that way; don't you lay hands on him;
don't you touch him." The voice was very high and earnest.

"Yea-a. Good enough for you, big Freshman." The upper-classmen were becoming interested. By this time in
the windows across the street were about twenty lookers-on. Ballard knew that, and he was a Sophomore.
Young was a Freshman. He laughed scornfully. "What have you got to do with it, you big, overgrown baby?"

"I'll show you what I've got to do with, you big bully." Young's voice trembled. "Let go that boy," and much
to everyone's astonishment the Freshman took hold of the Sophomore very much as Ballard had hold of Lee.

At this, Ballard, in sheer astonishment that any Freshman should have the audacity to touch him, Ballard, the
centre rush of the Sophomore team, dropped Lee, wrenched away from Young and whirled around toward
him with fist drawn up in fighting position, dancing up and down, and saying, "You impudent pup of a
Freshman, you impudent pup!"

["Yea-a! big scrap!" shouted those upstairs--"Aw! Freshman's afraid."]

Now, Young considered himself the better man, but all he wanted was to make Ballard let go of Lee, and he
had succeeded.

["Aw! Freshman's bluffed out--too bad!"]

Ballard had turned once more toward Lee. "Get to work," he bawled.

Lee stood still.

Ballard drew back as if to demolish the little fellow. "Now," he began--but just then in ran Young. His
unclenched hands were stuck out awkwardly in front of him; it made the upper-classmen in the windows
shout with laughter; some of the Sophomores in the ring giggled excitedly. Young did not hear it. He guarded