the spirit of Randall College. He, a freshman, dared to talk back to a sophomore.
"I'm wearing it," replied he pertly. "Does it look as if I was playing ping-pong with it?"
The sophomores could hardly believe their ears. There was no imitation in the surprise that showed on their faces.
"For the love of Mike! Listen to him!" gasped Morse. "Grab him, Denfield! Wow! But things are coming to a pretty pass when a fresh talks like that the first week. Look out now, youngster, you're going to get a little lesson in how to behave to your betters."
The two sophomores reached out their hands to grab Fenton. He made a spring to get behind a protecting wall of his comrades, and for a moment it looked as if the second year lads would be bested, for there were at least fifteen freshmen. But Langridge knew better than to let his friends get into trouble that way.
"Let 'em have him," he advised in a low voice.
"It's the custom, and he knew it. He deserves it all."
Thereupon the freshmen divided, and offered no opposition to the twain, who gathered in their man. Morse snatched off the hat with the offending band, and, while Denfield held the struggling Fenton, ripped off the ribbon. Then with his knife Morse began cutting the hat to pieces.
