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 Hall at night and making them rush against the whole Sophomore class; then's when we're going to quit. Observe?"
Halleck's shamefully fresh manner revived the drooping spirits of his men.
"See here, we'll call it off if you will," put in the Sophomore president.
"Yes, I guess you will," drawled Halleck. The mob howled. Smith's class was notoriously weaker at fighting than their own.
"We've rushed you three times," went on Cap; "you licked us the first time we fought; then you pulled us out in the mud the night after and did it again; but we got you the next week by strategy!"
"By a sneaking trick!"
"That's right!" chimed the Freshmen, "Pete's dead right!"
"Well, say," persisted Smith, "we're willing to quit as it is. The score stands two to one for you fellows, too."