The freshmen marched past the line along the fence. They were insulting. They turned and marched back. Then, at a signal from their giant leader, they attempted to sweep the juniors from the fence, and take it by storm.
There was a charge, a clash, and the battle was on.
But it afterward developed that the juniors were far more crafty than the freshmen thought. They had not concentrated their entire force at the fence, but their main body were keeping out of sight and waiting for the onset to begin, knowing the freshmen were in a mood to try something desperate and unusual.
The moment the freshmen made a rush for the fence, the second body of their antagonists came with a wild charge.
Frank Merriwell led them!
In a moment such a battle was taking place there at the fence as had not been witnessed since the old days at Yale—the good old fighting days.
Almost immediately the freshmen were on the defensive, doing their best to retain their hats and canes.
Frank singled out Hock Mason, believing the best course was to engage his entire attention without delay. He was urging the freshmen on, and no one seemed to stand before him.
With all the nerve he could command, putting all his strength and skill into the effort, Merriwell went at Mason. He came upon the fellow like a tornado.
Frank did not try slugging tactics, but he caught Mason's cane with both hands, and, giving it a twist and a whirl, snapped the big freshman into the air and fairly flung him over his shoulder, tearing away the cane.