"Now then," commanded the clear, shrill voice, "Ninety-blank this way again once more—Hip, hip!"
Young drew his head in from the window and the next minute he was running downstairs three steps at a time. He could not help it.
Two other Freshmen joined him from neighboring houses on the way to the corner.
There, with the street light glaring dimly upon them, stood the Freshman class, or most of it, closely drawn up four abreast, cheering for itself with all its might. The Juniors were leading the cheers with energetic waving of the arms; other Juniors were marshalling the forces.
Young and his two unknown companions began to run as they drew nearer, and those in the rear ranks hearing their footsteps gave a yell of welcome. It sounded like a prolonged "Yea-a-a."
The three new-comers modestly fell in at the rear. A quick-stepping nervous Junior came down the line looking each row over as he came along. He wore glasses, Young noticed, and a faded orange-and-black blazer.
"Here, you big fellow, you'll do to go in front," he said, in a voice husky from cheering, and with that Young was taken by the arm, led way up to one of the front rows, shoved in beside three other fellows, and the Junior said, "Now, Tommy, that row's complete."
The Freshman next to Young grabbed him by the coat-sleeve and locked an arm through his as if they had been comrades for four years instead of just about to be.
He had on a soiled canvas football jacket and was hatless. His hair was long. "How much do you weigh, old man?" he asked in an excited manner. There was a lull in the cheering; everyone seemed to be whispering and chatting nervously; some of those in the rear were laughing at what one of the Juniors was telling them.
"About one hundred and eighty-five pounds," said Young to his neighbor wondering who he was and what kind of a fellow.