LITMIR.BIZ

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against Andy Emery, and Emery had the reputation of being as full of grit as a bulldog. He was on the 'Varsity crew, and he had a back and shoulders which were the admiration of those who had seen him strip to the buff.

      Emery had a quick temper and a strong arm. He grappled with Harry, lifted him off his feet and tried to throw him, but the freshman came down on his feet like a cat.

      A second later Emery was astonished to feel his own feet flung into the air, and he could not help falling, but he clung to his antagonist and they went down together.

      Over and over they rolled, each striving to get on top. They were soon off the sidewalk and into the street.

      Emery was furious, for he felt that his dress suit was the same as ruined, and he uttered some very savage language.

      "That's right," chuckled Harry. "Cuss a little—it may help you."

      It seemed to, for Emery finally succeeded in getting astride Rattleton and holding him down for a few moments. He was soon pulled off by another freshman, and the merry war went on.

      Little Tad Horner was right in the hottest scrimmage, and he proved formidable for the freshmen, despite his size. He had a way of darting under them and tripping them up, then getting away before he could be grappled.

      Dismal Jones was quoting Scripture and doing his best to make himself felt by the sophomores. Jones was a character. His parents were "shouting Methodists," and they intended him for the ministry. He had a long, sad face, but he was full of deviltry, and it was very seldom that the freshmen entered into any affair against the sophomores that he was not on hand and interested.

      "Lay on and spare not!" he cried, after the style of a camp-meeting revivalist. "If the wicked entice thee, consent thou not. Get behind me, Satan! Brothers, oh, my dear brothers! it makes my heart sad and weary to see so much wicked strife and contention."

      Punch Swallows, the red-headed soph, found himself pitted against Lucy Little. Despite his name, Little was not a "sissy," and he was no mean antagonist, as Punch found out. It was nip and tuck between them, and neither seemed to have the best of it.

      Some of the sophs were able to down their men, but they were so outnumbered by the freshmen that they could not hold an advantage very long.

      The struggle between Browning and Merriwell waxed furious. The big sophomore exerted himself to his utmost, and he found that it was necessary that he should do so if he had any thought of holding his own with the freshman leader.

      Frank knew all the time that he was pitted against a hard man, and so his muscles were strained and his nerves were taut.

      "Now, fresh, we'll see what we can do for you," Browning said, as he made a mighty effort to land Frank on his back.

      "You are very kind," laughed Merriwell. "I will not forget your kindness."

      "You are not the only one," panted Browning. "There are others."

      "Are you going to the party this evening?" chuckled Frank.

      "Not till I have done you up, my friend with the swelled head."

      "Then you expect to be rather late?"

      "We'll see!"

      Frank resorted to all the tricks he knew, but Browning was familiar with every one of them. They gave up trying to down each other by main strength, and science cut quite a figure in their battle.

      At length Browning got Frank foul, and to his dismay the leader of the freshmen felt himself falling. Browning fell with him, a cry of triumph coming to his lips.

      That cry turned to an exclamation of dismay, for Merriwell seemed to twist about in the air, and they fell side by side on the ground. In a twinkling they were at it again, and over and over they went, till they finally stopped and got upon their feet together.

      "Very good thus far," laughed Merriwell. "But I see your wind will not hold out. I am bound to do you in the end."

      That was the very thing Browning feared.

      "Well, I don't know about that," he said as he broke Frank's grip. "This may settle the whole business."

      He struck hard and straight at Merriwell's face!

      CHAPTER XIII.

       JUBILANT FRESHMEN.

       Table of Contents

      Spat!

      Merriwell staggered.

      "Down you go!"

      Browning followed the freshman closely, launching out again, with the full expectation that the second blow would be a settler.

      Frank had been taken slightly off his guard, so that he had failed in getting away from the first blow, but he skillfully ducked the second, countering as the king's fist passed over his shoulder.

      Browning reeled backward, having received a terrific crack on the ear.

      If Frank had not been slightly dazed he might have followed the sophomore closely, but he was a bit slow in getting after Bruce.

      For a few seconds the boys gave an exhibition of scientific sparring which would have proved very interesting to their comrades if all had not been too busy to watch them.

      Frank Merriwell contiuued to laugh, and it had been said at Yale that he was most dangerous in an encounter when he laughed.

      "You came near doing it, Browning," he admitted, "but it was rather tricky on your part. I wasn't looking for a fight."

      "You will get many things you are not looking for before you have been at Yale much longer," returned the king.

      "Think so?"

      "Dead sure."

      The two lads seemed to be very evenly matched, save that Merriwell was the more catlike on his feet. Browning was solid, and it took a terrific blow to stagger him. Merriwell was plainly the more scientific. He could get in and away from his foe in a most successful manner, but he saw that in the confined limits of a ring Browning's rush would be difficult to escape.

      What the result of this encounter might have been cannot be told, for two freshmen suddenly appeared and gave the alarm that at least a hundred sophomores were coming in a body to aid their comrades.

      A moment later the sophs appeared, hurrying along the street toward the scene of the encounter.

      "'Umpty-seven! 'Umpty-seven! Rah! rah! 'rah!"

      Then the signal was given for the freshmen to break away and take to flight, which they promptly did.

      "Oh, soph—oh, my poor soph!" cried many taunting voices.

      "Good-evening, gentlemen!" called Bandy Robinson. "Shall I toss you down soap and towels?"

      "Say, fellows," cried Lucy Little, "don't you think it is rather warm out this evening?"

      "Hello! hello!" shouted Rattleton. "Has it been raining, or did we have a small shower?"

      Then Merriwell's beautiful baritone voice pitched the chorus of a familiar negro melody, in which the triumphant and delighted freshmen joined:

      "Git erway from de window, mah love an' mah dove!

       Git erway from de window—don't yeh heah?

       Come eround some odder night,

       For dere's gwine ter be er fight,

       An' dar'll be razzers er-flyin' through de air."

      The sophomores retired to a safe distance and then challenged the freshmen to come out and fight. They called them cowards and other things, but the freshmen laughed and taunted them in return.

      "Is—er—King Browning present?" yelled a freshman, leaning out of a window. "If so, I'd like to inquire if he means to attend the party this evening."

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