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Frank Merriwell at Yale; Or, Freshman Against Freshman

<h2> CHAPTER XIV. </h2> <h3> THE RUSH. </h3>  At last the sophomores were thoroughly aroused. The freshmen had long been carrying things with a high hand, but the rushing of a lot of them who were in dress suits and bound for a swell party was the straw that broke the camel's back. An indignation meeting was held, and certain freshmen were placed under the ban. Of these Merriwell was the leader, and it was agreed that every effort must be made to "take the starch" out of him. That Browning intended to "do" Merriwell was well known, but some of the others proposed to get at him. "Wait," advised Bruce—"wait till I have had it out with that fellow. Then you may do whatever you like with him. But I feel it a solemn duty to settle our little affair before anybody else tackles him." The freshmen were getting their ball team in condition for the coming season, and they were practicing as often as possible. Frank was interested in the team, and it was said by those who watched him that he seemed to have the making of a pitcher in him. He had sharp curves and good control. If he had a head, they said, he was all right. But this was something that could not be decided till he had been tried in a game. Another freshman by the name of Walter Gordon seemed certain to be the regular pitcher of the team. He had a record, as he had shown, while Merriwell would say nothing about what he had done in the way of pitching. The students had found it extremely difficult to find out much about Merriwell, as he persistently avoided talking about himself. If he had been one of the kind of fellows who go around and brag about themselves and what they have done he would not have aroused so much interest; but the very fact that he would not talk of himself made the students curious to know something of his history. In a vague sort of way it became known that although he lived in simple style, like any freshman whose parents were not wealthy, he had a fortune in his own right and had traveled extensively in various parts of the world. Frank's silence seemed to cast an air of mystery about him, and that air of mystery made him all the more interesting, for the human mind is ever curious to peer into anything that has the flavor of a secret. The sophomores had been rushed by the freshmen, and they resolved to retaliate in a similar manner. On Saturday afternoons the freshmen ball team practiced, and Saturday was at hand. It would be an opportune time to meet the youngsters and make it warm for them. The affair was carefully planned, but wind of it reached the freshmen. As a result, the youngsters prepared for what they knew must take place. There could be no such thing as avoiding it, so when Saturday noon came they dressed themselves in their old clothes and started for the park, going out as much as possible in a body. When the park was reached it was found that the sophomores were there ahead of them. More than that, the sophs had closed and fastened the gate, and they proposed to hold it. They taunted the freshmen, and told them they would have to climb the fence if they hoped to get into the park. Then there was a consultation among the freshmen. "We'll have to make a rush," was the universal decision. Frank looked the ground over, and he decided that an ordinary rush would not be successful, for that was the very thing the sophomores were expecting. But there seemed no other way of getting into the park unless they climbed the fence, and not a man thought of doing such a thing as that. The sophomores formed in front of the gate, five deep. In the front rank of the sophs were Browning and two 'Varsity crew men. Bruce was in the middle, with the rowers on either side. The ends were two men from the football team. Thus the very first line of the sophomores made a formidable array, and it is not surprising that some of the freshmen were chicken-hearted. With assistance, Frank marshaled the freshmen, reserving a place in the first line for himself. While that might be considered a position of honor, it was the most dangerous, and every fellow there knew this rush was to be no baby play. For companions Merriwell selected Dismal Jones, Jack Diamond, Puss Parker and a big, broad-shouldered fellow by the name of Hovey. Rattleton and Robinson, together with a dozen others, were appointed as "scouts." It was their duty to "hook" out men from the ranks of the sophs and break the force of the enemy's rush as far as possible. The sophomores had likewise appointed a dozen scouts, strong, active fellows, every one of whom had shown ability as an athlete. The sophs prepared quickly for the rush, but it took more time to get the freshmen in order. In this the seniors rendered not a little assistance. When everything was ready the order was given, and the freshmen started forward. Those in the front line leaned back at a slant, and those behind pushed. At the same time the sophomores moved toward the freshmen, and then there were shouts, taunts and jeers. Each side gave its own cheer. "This is the last of the freshmen!" cried the sophomores. "We'll wipe them off the earth. Good-by, freshies!" "'Umpty-seven will never be heard of again," returned the freshmen. "They'll be angels right away." Then the two bodies came together with a frightful impact. They had locked their arms about each other's waists, and there they clung, while they pressed upon each other with all their might. For a little time they swayed and swayed. There were screams and cries of pain. They wavered and turned about, but still the crush continued. The scouts were getting in their work, hooking their bent arms around the necks of their opponents and yanking them out of the line. Before long the rush turned into a general pushing and hauling. Freshman pitted himself again sophomore, and a score of wrestling matches were in progress. Merriwell and Browning had clinched at the outset, but it was a long time before they could do anything but cling to each other. When they did have an opportunity another soph, a scout, spoiled the match by making a low tackle on Frank and flinging him to the ground. Browning came down heavily on the leader of the freshmen, but he immediately jumped up, crying: "That was not a square deal. Let's have it over." But the breath had been knocked out of Frank with the force of the fall, and he fell back twice as he struggled to arise. "Are you hurt?" asked Browning. "No," panted Frank, who could dimly see his opponent through a thick haze which seemed to hang before his eyes. "Then why don't you get up?" "I—I'm going to." Setting his teeth, he did so, but Rattleton caught Browning by the collar and flung him aside as the big soph sprang at Frank. "You are hurt, old man!" insisted Harry. "I saw the fellow when he tripped you. It wasn't a fair thing. You are in no condition to meet Browning now. Wait till you get your wind." "I must meet him!" cried Frank. "He'll say he did me up if I do not." "Then he'll lie. It's all right. You do as I say." Frank tried to resist, but Rattleton dragged him aside, being able to do so because Browning found himself occupied by a little freshman who stuffily blocked his way, declaring that Merriwell should have a show. Frank was more than disgusted by the result of the affair. He felt that he must have it out with Browning then and there, and he made desperate attempts to break from Harry. Ordinarily he would have succeeded with the greatest ease, but the fall had robbed him of his strength. Then came the knowledge that the freshmen had been repulsed. The sophomores were cheering wildly, and the unfortunate freshmen were downcast. "They've held us out," muttered Harry, bitterly. "It begins to look as if we'll have to climb over the fence if we get inside." "What's that?" cried Frank, bracing up a little. "Climb the fence? Not much!" "Then how'll we get in? Will you tell me that?" "We'll find a way." "Wind a fay!" spluttered Harry excitedly. "It's easy enough to say that, but I don't believe we can do it." "Oh, freshies! oh, you poor freshies!" tauntingly cried the victors. "Don't you wish you could? But you can't do it, you know!" "That remains to be seen," muttered Merriwell, brushing the hair back from his eyes. "I didn't think we could do it in this way. But there are others." "You'll be a dandy if you devise a way," declared Little. Diamond, with his coat off, his vest ripped up the back and his shirt torn open at the throat, was regarding the jeering sophomores with a fierce, sullen look. Evidently he was ready for anything. He glanced at Merriwell, but said nothing. Frank called the freshmen around him. "Look here, fellows," he said, "we are bound to go into that park, and we're going through that gate." "That sounds well," said Dismal Jones, who wore an unusually long face, "but I'm inclined to believe we're not in it with that crowd." "Guess again!" exclaimed Frank. "Now listen to me, and I don't want one of you to look around. You might arouse suspicion if you did. Close to the wall there lies a long stick of timber." "Well?" "We'll use it." "How?" "As a battering-ram." "To batter down the gate? Why, how are we to get to the gate?" "The timber will take us there, and it will open the gate. When I give the word we will rush for it, pick it up, and sail right into the sophs. I'll bet anything they get out of the way when they see us coming with that. It will take them by surprise." "'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!" yelled several of the enthusiastic freshmen. The sophomores yelled back at them in derision. "They think we are beaten now," said Diamond, whose face had lighted up somewhat as he listened to Merriwell's plan. "If we only can get the best of them that way!" "We can and we will," assured Frank. "Those who can't get hold of the timber may look out that they don't hook our men away from it. That is all." The freshmen became eager for the effort, but Frank held them back till he was certain they all understood just what was to be done. "Are you ready?" he finally asked. "All ready," was the eager reply. "Then go!" The sophomores were astonished to see the freshmen suddenly whirl all together and rush toward the wall. "They're going over! They're going over!" The sophomores shouted their satisfaction and delight, fully convinced that they had forced the freshmen to abandon all hope of going through the gate. Then came a surprise for them. The freshmen caught up the timber, and Merriwell cried: "Charge!" Like a tornado they bore down on the men near the gate, toward which the timber was directed. With cries of amazement the alarmed sophomores broke and scattered before the oncoming freshmen. Crash! The timber struck the gate, bursting it open instantly, and the triumphant freshmen swarmed into the park, cheering wildly. "Hurrah for 'Umpty-eight!" yelled Bandy Robinson, turning a handspring. "We are the boys to do 'em!" "Hurrah for Frank Merriwell!" shouted Harry Rattleton, his face beaming with joy. "It was his scheme that did it." "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" roared the freshmen. "'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!" Then Frank felt himself lifted to the shoulders of his enthusiastic admirers and carried to the home plate of the ball ground, where the freshmen cheered again and again. The sophomores were filled with rage and chagrin. "That was the blamedest trick I ever heard of in all my life!" declared Andy Emery. "We weren't looking for anything of the kind." "And we have Merriwell to thank for it!" snapped Evan Hartwick. "He's full of tricks as an egg is full of meat." "By Jawve!" said Willis Paulding, who had managed to keep out of harm's way during the entire affair. "I think somebody ought to do something to that fellaw—I really do, don't yer know." "Suppose you try to see what you can do with him," grinned Tad Horner. "You ought to be able to do something." "Aw—really you will hawve to excuse me!" exclaimed Willis in alarm. "I hawdly think I could match his low cunning, don't yer understand." "Oh, yes, I understand," nodded Horner, significantly. "It takes a man to go up against Merriwell." "I hope you don't mean to insinuate—" "Oh, no!" interrupted Tad. "I have said it." "Eh? I hawdly think I understand, don't yer know." "Think it over," advised the little soph as he turned away. It is probable that Bruce Browning was more thoroughly disgusted than any of his friends. "Confound it!" he thought. "If I'd stuck to that fellow and done him up anyway he wouldn't have been able to carry out this trick. If he is given any kind of a show he is bound to take advantage of it." Bruce felt like fighting. "I'm going in there and lick him," he declared. "I will settle this matter with Merriwell right away." But some of his friends were more cautious. "It won't do," declared Puss Parker. "Won't do?" "No, sir." "Why not?" "It might be done under cover of a rush, but a single fight between a soph and a fresh under such public conditions would be sure to get them both in trouble." "I don't care a continental! I've stood him just as long as I can! If I can give him a good square licking I'll stand expulsion, should it come to that!" They saw that Browning was too heated to pause for sober thought, and so they gathered close around him and forced him to listen to reason. It took no small amount of argument to induce the king to give over the idea of going onto the ball field and attacking Merriwell, but he was finally shown the folly of such a course. However, he vowed over and over that the settlement with Merriwell should come very soon.       <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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