That a first-year man must dance was irrevocable. It had the authority of precedent in uncounted graduate classes. To be sure, it was neither required nor expected that all applicants be masters of the art; but, agitate his feet in some manner, every able-bodied male member must, or remain forever a freshman. When Landers and his companion arrived at the top of the stairs they found the hall packed close with fellow-classmates. The lower rows of seats were already filled with triumphant seniors, waiting for the throng that crowded pit and lobby to come within their reach. With regular tapping of feet and clapping of hands in unison, the class as one man beat the steady time of one who marches. "Dance, freshies!" they repeated monotonously. "Dance!" "Clear the pit for a rush," yelled the president of the besieging freshmen, elbowing his way back into the mass. A lull fell upon the room, as both sides gathered themselves together. "Now--all at once!" yelled the president, and pandemonium broke loose. "Rush 'em! Shove, behind there!" shrieked the struggling freshmen at the front. "Dance, freshies! Dance!" challenged the seniors, as they locked arms across the narrow aisle. "Hold 'em, fellows! Hold 'em!" encouraged the men of the upper seats, bracing themselves against the broad backs below. The classes met like water against a wall. To go up was impossible; advantage of gravity and of position was all with the seniors. For an instant, at the centre, there were frantic yelling and pulling of loose wearing apparel; then, packed like cotton in a bale, they could only scream for mercy. "Loosen up, back there! Back!" they panted, squirming impotently as they gasped for breath. Slowly the reaction came amid the triumphant, "Dance, freshies!" of the conquering hosts. The jam loosened; the seniors' opportunity came. Like a big machine, the occupants of the front row leaned forward, and seized upon a circle of unsuspecting, retreating freshmen, among the number the class president. "Pass 'em up! Pass 'em up!" insisted the men above, reaching out eager hands to aid; and with an irresistibility that seemed miraculous, the squirming, kicking, struggling freshmen found themselves rolling upward--head foremost, feet foremost, position unclassified--over the heads of the upper classmen; bumping against seats, and scattering the contents of their pockets loosely along the way. "Up with them," repeated the denizens of the front row as they reached forward for a fresh supply. But there was no more material available; the besieging party had retreated. On the top row the dishevelled president was confusedly pulling himself together, and grinning sheepishly. The rebellion was over. "Dance, freshies," resumed the seniors mockingly; and once more the regular tap of feet and clapping of hands beat slow march-time.