“Of course. There’ll be a lot of spying done on both sides during the next fortnight. They’ll be trying to find out where we’re going to feed, and when, and we’ll be trying to find out what they’re going to do about it.”
“But if we get out notices, as you said we did, what’s to keep the freshmen from knowing all about it?”
“The notices don’t give the date and place, General. They’re just reminders to the members of the class. Of course, the freshmen do find out easy enough, but it makes them work harder if we don’t tell ’em. There’s one thing they won’t do, anyway, and that’s cut off the light. Mr. Kingman will take mighty good care that no one gets into the cellar this year!”
“What will they do, do you suppose?” asked Leonard.
“Search me! Maybe they’ll try to rush the hall. They did that three or four years ago, they say, and ate most of the dinner before the sophs could get them out again!”
“Gee,” murmured Leonard, “I can’t imagine this year’s bunch of freshies trying anything like that!”
“Well, you can’t tell. They get pretty cocky after they’ve been here a month or so. Besides, they had their election last week, and that always sort of starts them going. There’s a lot of them this year; nearly a hundred and thirty, I hear; and if they want to make trouble they can do it.”
“How many of us are there, Slim?”
“Ninety—something; ninety-six, I think. Oh, we can look after ourselves. The most they can do, in any case, is hold things up for awhile.”
“Sounds exciting,” mused Leonard. “Do they ever get to scrapping?”