So wrapped up was Ralph in his own affairs that he never once thought of looking around him when he stepped out of the gate and started off. Had he done so he would have discovered several dusky figures dogging his footsteps in a very suspicious manner.
They kept just so far in his rear until the town had been left behind, and the country was at hand. Of course these were sophs bent upon keeping the new favorite of the freshies from attending that dinner, which was doubtless to be spread in some isolated barn far beyond the confines of Columbia, in order to lessen the chances of the second class interrupting the feast.
Suddenly Ralph’s sober thoughts were interrupted. He found himself pounced upon and borne to the ground. In vain he struggled, for three proved too much for even the athletic hero of that afternoon game.
At first he was amazed at what was happening, and thoughts of some rascals boldly playing the part of highway robbers flitted through his mind.
Then a face was thrust close to his, and a voice said:
“Your goose is cooked, freshie. No fine spread in yours this night. Instead, you will occupy a dungeon until the midnight hour has struck. And if our plans carry right we’ll have gobbled your class grub long before then.”
Of course the truth flashed through Ralph’s mind now. He knew that he had fallen into the clutches of the watchful sophomores, eager to capture all the leading lights of the lower class, and spoil the long anticipated treat.
It was exasperating to say the least. Of course none of them would believe him if he declared that he had no idea of attending the dinner, and was bent on private business of the utmost importance.
Just as he expected, when he started to speak of this they only jeered him.
“Tell that to the marines, freshie. Don’t we know that they expect to elect you the president of the class to-night, in place of Rud Kipling, who went home last week sick? Oh! no, you don’t get loose until the clock strikes twelve, so save your breath. Tie his hands, boys, and bring him along. I know a cot beneath the hill, and there we’ll chuck him in to ruminate, while we hike after that grub.”