"Not till this match is over," said Frank. "We've got to stick by the class. There's one for us I guess," as Freshmen yells betokened a fall for the candidate of the youngest class in the heavyweight match now going on desperately in the ring they had left.
Five minutes more, and a great burst of cheering announced the end of the match with the Freshman candidate a winner.
"That gives us the championship," shouted Frank, and the three friends grasped each other about the shoulders and whirled around in a wild dance, the Codfish favoring his lame knee as much as possible.
Like magic the great crowd of students faded from the Campus and headed for York street. At the corner of High street and Elm the gang of town roughs, now augmented to a hundred or more, yelled defiance at the students, and occasionally fell upon some of them who were on the outskirts of the crowd.
"Look out for your caps," came the warning, but it was not given soon enough to prevent some of the unwary from losing their headgear at the hands of the roughs who were out for the particular business that night of cap-snatching. Hot blows were struck, the whole body of students uniting against the common enemy. At every few steps a rough, backed by a half dozen of his pals, dashed into the students and for a moment there would be a whirlwind of fighting, ending generally in the attacking party beating a retreat with bloody noses but with the prized cap trophies.
Keeping out of the fighting, the three friends moved slowly with the crowd in the direction of Pierson Hall on York street, where their rooms were located. Frank supported the crippled Codfish with an arm around his waist. Jimmy appointed himself as rear guard, keeping a wary lookout for attacks.
Suddenly out of the crowd swooped two roughs and charged full at Frank and the Codfish, bowling them over like nine-pins. One of the roughs grabbed Gleason's cap, which he was unwise enough to wear, and with it a handful of his hair. This brought a blood-curdling yell from the victim of the assault, and drew the attention of the crowd.
For the second time that night Jimmy went into action. A well-delivered punch knocked the cap-snatcher into the street, but before he could do more execution he was set on by a half dozen of the snatcher's friends who had followed closely on their companion's heels. Frank dropped the Codfish and sprang to Jimmy's assistance, and in a second a scrap of major proportions was in full swing. The boys put up a whirlwind argument with their fists, and were holding their own when through the mass came ploughing two officers of the law, the light flashing on their brass buttons.
"Police, police, beat it!" yelled the roughs, and they fled precipitately, all excepting the two that Frank and Jimmy were pummeling with such exceeding vigor that they didn't have time to escape.
Into the circle where the fight was going on strode the officers with clubs drawn.