"What!"
"They paste them all over this town and its environs, on the blank walls and the sidewalks, and on every barn in the county, on wagons, on telegraph-poles, on freight-cars—not only that, but they go off to Trenton and New Brunswick and paste them all over the town and on freight-trains about to pull out."
"Well! what do we do all this time?" asked Young. Everyone was listening now.
"Pull them down," said the Junior, simply, "and soon afterward you get out a proc saying sarcastic things about them, which they pull down, feeling very indignant, and then they haze you worse than ever. Please hand me the butter."
"But I still don't see," said Barrows, the small fellow with the big head, "what Saturday's baseball game has to do with it?"
"They wait until after that," replied the Junior, smiling, "in order to write verses on the score and jeer you on being so badly beaten."
"Maybe we won't be beaten," said Barrows.
"I sincerely hope you won't," said the Junior, benignantly.
The series of inter-class baseball games lasting a week had begun as usual on the Monday previous. They are played so early in the term because football soon absorbs all athletic interest of the fall.
The Freshman class, which was large and had had many aspirants to athletic honors, had barely had time to pick out its nine, who were, so said the Junior class baseball captain who was coaching the players, unusually good material, but quite lacking in team play. This was only natural, as only three of them had ever seen each other a week before.