Frank Armstrong at College

by Matthew M. Colton

  CHAPTER II.

  A BRUSH WITH THE POLICE.

  "First blood for the Freshman. Wow!!"

  Both principals were now in their corners being fanned with towelsand put in shape for the second bout which was to follow immediately,for there were three in each event as the Codfish learned to hissorrow. His eyes wandered again to where Frank and Turner were wedgedin the crowd, almost speechless at what they saw before them.

  "The Codfish of all creatures in the world to be wrestling for hisclass," laughed Jimmy.

  "We live and learn. He may be out for football yet."

  The subject under discussion just at this moment bent his headand whispered something to one of his seconds, then looked up andnodded in the direction of his friends agape on the other side ofthe circle. For a moment the gaze of the second rested on Armstrongand Turner. Then the whistle blew and the boys sprang again to thecenter of the ring.

  This time it was different. The Sophomore did not rush in sofearlessly. He circled round and round with arms outstretched andfigure crouching. Then he sprang at the Freshman's leg and before thelatter knew it he was on his back with his opponent squarely acrosshis chest.

  "Fall for the Sophomore," announced the referee, slapping the victoron the shoulder. Sophomore yells rent the air.

  "A tie, a tie! Now bury the Freshman this time. Go to it."

  Again the seconds ministered to their men, and after a two-minutes'rest the boys went at it, but the Codfish, who was not noted for hisphysical prowess, went down after a brief tussle, and the lightweightevent was awarded to the Sophomores amid yells by that class whichechoed back from the buildings of the quadrangle. Gleason struggledinto his clothes, and ducked through the living wall as fast as hecould go, while the calls for the middleweight wrestlers were beingyelled by the marshals.

  A husky young Sophomore quickly responded, but again the Freshmenwere slow with their man.

  The big football captain, who had been in conference with some of hisaides, walked across the ring.

  "You red-head, there," pointing to Turner, "come out here and defendthe honor of your class. The Freshman who just wrestled says you're agood one."

  Frank and Jimmy looked at each other.

  "So that's the game the Codfish put up on me," said Jimmy. "Wait tillI get at him. I'll dirty his clothes worse than they are now."

  "Come on, Freshman," said the Captain peremptorily.

  "I can't wrestle," said Jimmy.

  "Get out here and learn then. Come on," and the Captain reached abig hand over the heads of the squatters in the ring. Jimmy feltcompelling hands pushing from behind, and with the eyes of everyoneon him, there was nothing to do but go forward. A path was clearedfor him and he stepped into the ring.

  "Good boy, Red. You've got to even this thing up."

  "Show us you have the goods!" yelled someone whose sympathies werewith the Freshmen.

  The Freshman and Sophomore took their corners after the referee hadsatisfied himself that the pair would be well matched as to weight,and soon they were down to wrestling condition with bare backs andsock feet, because a wrestler is never allowed to wear anything thatmight in any way injure his opponent.

  "Does your friend know anything about the game?" inquired thenews-heeler of Frank.

  "Not much, he did a little of it at school, but he is very strong,"was Frank's reply.

  "Well, he'll need it. That fellow who is pitted against him isFrancis who won the lightweight event for his class last year, and isone of the best men in his class at the wrestling game."

  When the Sophomore got to his feet, it was seen that he was a headtaller than his opponent, but not so heavily built. His slender bodywas finely muscled, and his face wore a smile of confidence whichsaid quite plainly what his opinion was of the outcome.

  "Middleweights--Sophomore Francis, weight 148; Freshman Turner,weight 154," bawled the announcer. Then the whistle shrilled and theboys sprang forward to shake hands. That preliminary over, theybacked away from each other and circled around, sparring for anopening. Francis rushed, but Turner cleverly evaded him. Again hetried and was thrown off by Turner, the "spat" of the meeting bodiessounding sharp and clear in the night air.

  "Good boy, Turner. Don't let him get that grip on you," yelled aSenior as Turner eluded another bull-like rush which carried boththe contestants in among the torches. It was Francis' method ofwrestling to carry the fight fast and furious from the beginning.More skirmishing, and finally a savage rush, and Francis got a holdon Turner's leg, lifted him from his feet and threw him backwards.Both crashed to the ground. There was a twisting, squirming strugglewith Turner at the bottom, but not downed yet for he managed to breakaway from Francis' hold and got to his hands and knees with Francisacross his back.

  The picture at this point was one worthy of the brush of an artist.Riding in a clear sky, a round moon looked down through the branchesof the big elms to where the boys fought it out on the grass, pantingwith their exertions. Most of the torches had by this time burnedthemselves out and lay smoking at the feet of the human circle. Fora background to the picture hundreds of lights twinkled on in thedormitory windows facing the Campus, and in the dim light of the mooncould be seen scores of people who had taken advantage of the DwightHall porch from whence they could get a distant view of the struggle.

  But the boys struggling on the ground and those crowded aroundthe ring were not interested in the pictures. Back and forth thewrestlers went, the advantage first with one and then with the other.Francis could not get his famous holds on Turner for the latter, withextraordinary strength, either evaded or broke them before he wascaught irrevocably. Time was up for the bout before either had scoreda fall.

  "Keep him off, Turner," counseled one of his seconds, while hepummeled the wrestler's arm and shoulder muscles. "Tire him out inthis next bout, and you will get him in the last one."

  "Don't let him get that half-Nelson on you or you are going sureas shooting," advised the man who fanned the panting Turner with atowel. "You've taken some of the confidence out of him already."

  Francis in his corner was getting the same kind of advice.

  "You'll get him this time," cheered his advisers. "Carry it right tohim and don't let him get out of your grips."

  "He's strong," said Francis. "He nearly broke my arm, but I'll gethim. Don't worry." But the confident smile had gone from his face.It was going to be a bitter struggle in which his skill was prettynearly evened by the Freshman's unusual strength.

  "Ready," shouted the referee, and once again the boys sprang at eachother. Francis was more cautious this time; Turner watchful and wary.Round and round they circled until Turner seeing what he thought wasan opportunity rushed with such a tremendous drive that Francis,unable to escape, was borne off his feet. He managed to save himselffrom a bad position by driving Turner's head down, and mounting hisback, rode half way round the ring like an old man of the mountains,while the crowd yelled and laughed. The laughter seemed to maddenJimmy. With a herculean effort he freed himself from Francis whodropped to the ground on hands and knees firmly braced. Using allhis strength to turn him over without success, Jimmy relaxed hismuscles, rested for a moment, and then putting every pound of energyinto one supreme effort, picked his opponent up by the middle andthrew him backwards over his head. Francis struck on his shoulder,rolled over on his back and lay still. He had been stunned by thefall.

  A little fanning brought Francis back to consciousness, but he hadenough for that night, and the referee awarded the bout to Turner. Afew moments of conference and the announcer cried:

  "Turner wins the middleweight bout for the Freshmen. The third boutwill not be pulled off."

  The Freshman cheer that went up rattled the windows in Durfee Hall.As Turner was putting on his clothes, and while calls were going outfor heavyweight candidates, a man wearing the 'Varsity Y stepped upto him.

  "Do you play football?"

  "Yes, a little," said Turner, rubbing tenderly a red welt across hisright
forearm, which had been raised by one of the Sophomore's lovetaps.

  "Report to me at the Field next Monday. I'm the Freshman footballcoach. Maybe I can use you."

  Turner thrilled. "So the old Codfish didn't get me in wrong afterall. I'll forgive him," he thought to himself. Finished with hisdressing, he was allowed to pass through the thinning wall ofspectators, and was picked up by Frank who had wriggled from hisposition with difficulty.

  "Great stuff, Jimmy," cried Frank. "It was worth real money to seeyou in action!"

  "I don't deserve any credit for it," said Turner. "I happened to geta lucky lift on him. He knows more about the game than I'll everlearn. I hope I didn't hurt him."

  "Never fear, his pride was hurt more than his body," returned Frank."I wonder where Hercules Gleason went to. He disappeared after hismeteoric burst of wrestling form."

  "As I'm a sinner, there he is now," exclaimed Jimmy, pointing to adejected figure leaning against the bole of a huge elm tree. Theboys pranced up to him, and sure enough it was the Codfish, mussedand bedraggled. Great blotches of green grass stain ornamented hisbeautiful light gray trousers, and one knee peered out through asix-inch rent which had been made when his overzealous opponentdragged him along the ground in the second bout. His usually sleekhair was all awry and a zigzag scratch beautified the side of hisface.

  "How did you like my d?but?" he asked weakly.

  "Great, but how in the name of Mike and the rest of the family didyou come to get roped in?"

  "They noticed my special fitness for the job, I guess," murmured theCodfish, "and they threw me into the ring, and when I got there, whatwas there left but to take my medicine?"

  "Who was it that chucked you over our heads, and why didn't youfollow us when we made a break?" demanded Frank.

  "O, you ducked off so fast that I lost track of you, and then while Iwas hunting around for you a bunch of fellows came along and asked meif I were a Freshman."

  "And you said no, of course," said Jimmy.

  "No, I said yes with the result as you saw it. I was lucky to escapewith my life. How that Sophomore came to let me throw him is morethan I can understand."

  "It was the blue socks that did it," declared Frank. "He simplycouldn't withstand them."

  "Come on home," said the Codfish, groaning. "I'm a mess."

  "Not till this match is over," said Frank. "We've got to stick by theclass. There's one for us I guess," as Freshmen yells betokened afall for the candidate of the youngest class in the heavyweight matchnow going on desperately in the ring they had left.

  Five minutes more, and a great burst of cheering announced the end ofthe match with the Freshman candidate a winner.

  "That gives us the championship," shouted Frank, and the threefriends grasped each other about the shoulders and whirled around ina wild dance, the Codfish favoring his lame knee as much as possible.

  Like magic the great crowd of students faded from the Campus andheaded for York street. At the corner of High street and Elm the gangof town roughs, now augmented to a hundred or more, yelled defianceat the students, and occasionally fell upon some of them who were onthe outskirts of the crowd.

  "Look out for your caps," came the warning, but it was not givensoon enough to prevent some of the unwary from losing their headgearat the hands of the roughs who were out for the particular businessthat night of cap-snatching. Hot blows were struck, the whole bodyof students uniting against the common enemy. At every few steps arough, backed by a half dozen of his pals, dashed into the studentsand for a moment there would be a whirlwind of fighting, endinggenerally in the attacking party beating a retreat with bloody nosesbut with the prized cap trophies.

  Keeping out of the fighting, the three friends moved slowly with thecrowd in the direction of Pierson Hall on York street, where theirrooms were located. Frank supported the crippled Codfish with an armaround his waist. Jimmy appointed himself as rear guard, keeping awary lookout for attacks.

  Suddenly out of the crowd swooped two roughs and charged full atFrank and the Codfish, bowling them over like nine-pins. One of theroughs grabbed Gleason's cap, which he was unwise enough to wear, andwith it a handful of his hair. This brought a blood-curdling yellfrom the victim of the assault, and drew the attention of the crowd.

  For the second time that night Jimmy went into action. Awell-delivered punch knocked the cap-snatcher into the street, butbefore he could do more execution he was set on by a half dozen ofthe snatcher's friends who had followed closely on their companion'sheels. Frank dropped the Codfish and sprang to Jimmy's assistance,and in a second a scrap of major proportions was in full swing. Theboys put up a whirlwind argument with their fists, and were holdingtheir own when through the mass came ploughing two officers of thelaw, the light flashing on their brass buttons.

  "Police, police, beat it!" yelled the roughs, and they fledprecipitately, all excepting the two that Frank and Jimmy werepummeling with such exceeding vigor that they didn't have time toescape.

  Into the circle where the fight was going on strode the officers withclubs drawn.

  "Quit it and come with us," said one of the policemen. "We're goingto put a stop to this street fighting. A night in the lock-up willtake some of the spunk out of you fellows. Come on," and eachgrabbed an arm of Armstrong and Turner while the roughs who hadstarted the trouble, with terrified looks, turned, dashed through thecrowd, and made their escape.

  "They snatched my cap," said the Codfish.

  "So you were in it, too? You better come along with your friends,"said one of the officers, reaching for Gleason's arm.

  "Why don't you take the roughs that started the muss?" remonstratedFrank.

  "No lip, young fellow," said the officer, scowling and shaking hisclub. Both policemen started forward, pushing their captors aheadof them, but the crowd blocked the way and began to hoot and yell.It looked like serious trouble for a minute when, shoulderingthrough the crowd, came a giant of a man wearing the uniform of theUniversity police.

  "What's the matter, boys?" he said in a soft tone.

  "These young fellows were fighting and we're going to jug them for awhile."

  "No, I wouldn't do that, now," urged the soft voice. "Maybe they hada reason. Let me take charge of them. They're good boys."

  "They were defending themselves," said a man who stepped forwardfrom the ring of spectators. "I saw the muss and these boys are notto blame." Turner recognized in the speaker the man who had asked himto report at the Field the next week, and his heart sank. It was abad way to start his Yale career, he thought.

  "Let me take them in charge," urged the University officer, andreluctantly the City policemen released their holds on the offenders.

  "Well, see that they don't get into trouble again on the streets oryou can't save them."

  "O, I'll take care of them," and then to Frank, "Come on, boys, let'sgo over to your room. I wouldn't have you fighting for the world. Itisn't a good way to start, you know."

  "We simply couldn't help it," Turner burst out. "What would you do insuch a case?"

  "O, I'd just naturally run," said the officer, and a laugh shook hishuge bulk.

  "But if you couldn't run?" urged Turner.

  "Well, I'd just naturally have to fight, I s'pose," and he laughedagain his good-natured laugh which had numberless times quietedturbulent spirits. "We'll forgive you this time. Now where do youlive? I'll see you to your rooms. You've had enough fun for thenight."

  "We live together at Pierson, just around the corner," said Frank.

  "Come on then," said the officer, and accompanied by a cheeringcrowd, the procession moved onward while the roughs, regaining someof their courage, followed at a safe distance and jeered.

  The boys gained their room without further trouble, and for an hourlooked down on the seething mass on York street below where theclasses pushed and struggled in good-natured fun.

  "Well, it's been some evening," said the Codfish reminiscently as hedaubed arnica on his bruised knee.

&nbs
p; "Yes, Yale seems to be a lively little place," said Turner. "Handme over that arnica when you have done with it. I have a few tenderspots myself."

  "I'll have a lick at it when you are through with it, Jimmy," laughedFrank. "I lost a yard of skin in the last m?l?e. I hope they don'thave many nights like this. I wouldn't last."

  Sore and bruised the three crawled into their beds, but the sting ofbroken skin could not stifle the feeling of radiant happiness thatwas theirs because at last they were "Yale men," and a part of thegreat institution about which their dreams had so long centered.