Ballard had turned once more toward Lee. "Get to work," he bawled.
Lee stood still.
Ballard drew back as if to demolish the little fellow. "Now," he began—but just then in ran Young. His unclenched hands were stuck out awkwardly in front of him; it made the upper-classmen in the windows shout with laughter; some of the Sophomores in the ring giggled excitedly. Young did not hear it. He guarded off one blow, was struck on the chest by the second, dodged the third—and as he ducked, he plunged in and grappled.
They clinched and began to wrench and twist and scuffle about the ring; the rest of the Sophomores falling back to keep out of the way whenever the two big fellows came over too near the edge.
Now, Young was no boxer, but he had, like many another country boy, wrestled ever since he first put on trousers, and he had not forgotten all his tricks. He made a feint as if to try a hip throw, then slipped his arms down on Ballard, twisted his feet around, threw his chin and his weight forward, and down they both came, Young on top, while the voices up in University Hall yelled approvingly: "The Freshman is doing him! the Freshman is doing him!" This made Ballard beside himself with rage.
But Young having proved himself the better man, released Ballard quickly, jumped up, stepped across to Lee, and in a sober manner was saying, "Now, Lee, I think——" when a staggering blow from Ballard's fist on the half-turned face nearly upset Young, who was entirely unprepared for this unexpected attack; he might have fallen but for Lee.
Up to this point Young, though very much in earnest, had been quite cool and deliberate. But now, with the cowardly blow stinging on his face, he became infuriated. He turned and charged at Ballard like one of the bulls on his father's farm, with his head down and regardless of consequences. His eyes were wide open and teeth set. His fury gave him double strength.
Paying no more attention to Ballard's blows than to so many raindrops, he dived down and grasped him around the middle, lifted him up, got him on the right hip, and whirled him over and down upon the ground between the sidewalk and the curbstone, a full, clean throw.
The men up in the windows were now really excited, "Good enough, Freshman! good enough! Served him right! Do it again!"
That was just what Young, with teeth set and nostrils distended, was proceeding to do, though not because they told him to, for he was now oblivious to everything but showing Ballard that there was a limit to hazing and to Freshman meekness!