A roar of cheers and laughter went up, and the freshman horde moved to meet them. Cries of “Welcome, Soph!” “Dinner’s ready, Staples!” “Way for the President!” mingled with jeers and cat-calls.
“Stick behind me,” counseled Slim in a low voice. Then he gently pushed the first of the enemy from his path. “Gangway, Fresh,” he said smilingly. But they were all about now, presenting a solid barrier. The more Slim shoved the greater the resistance became. He knew better than to lose his patience, however. Instead, he spoke laughingly to Leonard over his shoulder. “Let’s go, General,” he said. “Play low and make it good!” But although Leonard shoved and pushed there was no advance. “A-a-ay, Soph!” chanted the defenders. Slim felt his dignity slipping fast. He wondered why the fellows upstairs in the restaurant, only a few rods beyond, didn’t hear and come to the rescue. But they didn’t, and presently, breathless though still smiling, Slim paused to parley.
“What’s the big idea, you fellows?” he demanded of one of the bigger freshmen.
“Oh, we like you too well to let you mix in with a lot of low-down trash like those fellows up there,” was the flippant reply. “You stay and play with us, Staples.”
“Thanks,” answered Slim dryly. “All right, but you don’t need Grant, too, do you?”
“We-ell,” began the boy. But Leonard settled the question himself.
“I’ll stay with you, Slim,” he announced.
“Say, Staples! Slim Staples, are you hungry?” called some one, and a laugh followed. “Want your dinner, sonny?” “They’re just starting on the oysters, Staples!” “Oh, you Sophomore President!”
Stung, Slim faced his tormenters. “What’ll you bet I don’t get in there?” he demanded warmly.