Pete Halleck's room. There was
trouble brewing. First, Pete counted them with an air of mystery; then
he pulled down the window shades, shut the transoms, and drew from the
wash-stand a tangled mass of rope, two cans of paint and a coil of wire.
With these beside him on the floor, he harangued the mob.

"We have got to get a rush out of 'em, fellows," he said, keeping his
voice discreetly low, "and if they won't scrap, we'll force 'em. How
many of you remember how to tie a knot?"

"We've had experience enough," spoke up a roly-poly boy; "it's the Sophs
who need a lesson in tying."

"And we'll give it!"

Halleck drew up and looked so melodramatically important that the
meeting snickered behind their collective hands. Just then there came a
knock at the door. Halleck put his fingers to his lips; the crowd sat as
if petrified; the roly-poly conspirator felt his bravado oozing out in
youthful perspiration. The knocking came again, more imperatively, then
a voice.

"Let me in, you crazy Freshies."

Silence in the room.

"Let me in. I know about you. You're all in there, talking rush. Hang
your little pink skins, let me in!"

Still no answer.

"Pete Halleck, unlock your door. It's I--it's Frank Lyman, and I've
something to say to you babies. Open up!"

The composite face of the gathering fell. With Lyman against them, who
could be for them?--Frank Lyman, oracle of Encina and father-confessor
of Freshmen!

Pete threw the paraphernalia into his wardrobe.

"The game's up, fellows."

He opened the door, admitting the Senior, and with him, alas! Sophomore
Smith, President of his class. The sight of the enemy stirred Halleck.

"Say, shall we tie up the two of them?" cried he, when he had locked the
door.

"Key down, Freshie, key down," said the Senior. "You boys pain me to the
limit. Aren't you satisfied with tying up the Sophomores once without
scrapping the whole year through?"

"What do you know about our wanting to scrap?"

"I'm on to you, Peter: You have a ton of rope and a barrel of paint
somewhere about your den, and you're going out to-morrow to tie up the
Sophs at the ball game. Now you fellows have had three rushes this year;
when are you going to quit and give us a rest?"

Halleck held the position that delighted his soul,--center stage,--and
he was a respecter of neither the Faculty nor his seniors.

"We're going to quit when we get even with you for pulling twenty-five
lone Freshmen out of the