One by one the freshmen came forward, and, shuffling a few steps to the encouraging "well done" of the seniors, mounted the steps between the rows of laughing upper classmen. It happened that Landers came last. He wore heavy shoes and walked with an undeniable clump. "He's Dutch, make him clog," called a man from an upper row. The class caught the cry. "Clog! Clog!" they commanded. A big fellow next the aisle made an addition. "Clog there, hayseed," he grumbled. Landers stopped as though the words were a blow. That one word "hayseed" with all that it meant to him--to be thrown at him now, tauntingly, before the whole class! His face grew white beneath the remaining coat of tan, and he stepped up to the big senior with a swiftness of which no one would have suspected him capable. "Take that back!" he blazed into the man's face. The senior hesitated; the room grew breathlessly quiet. "Take it back, I say!" The big fellow tried to laugh, but his voice only grated. "Damned if I will--hayseed," he retorted with a meaning pause and accent. Before the words were out of his mouth Landers had the man by the collar, and they were fighting like cats. For a time things in that pit were very confused and very noisy. Both students were big and both were furiously angry. By rule they would have been very evenly matched, but in a rough-and-tumble scrimmage there was no comparison. The classes made silent and neutral spectators, as Landers swung the man around in the narrow pit like a whirlwind, and finally pushed him back into his seat. "Now will you take it back!" he roared breathlessly, vigorously shaking his victim. The hot lust of battle was upon the farmer, and he forgot that several hundred students were watching his every motion. "Take it back," he repeated, "or I'll--" and he lifted the man half out of the seat. The senior seized both arms of the chair, and looked up in a dazed sort of way. "I--" he began weakly. "Louder--" interrupted Landers. "I--beg your pardon," said the reluctant, trembling voice. That instant the amphitheatre went wild. "Bravo!" yelled a hundred voices over the clamor of cheering hands. "Three cheers for the freshman!" shrilled a voice over the tumult; and the "rah, rah, rah" that followed made the skylight rattle. Landers stepped back and looked up bewildered; then a realization of the thing came to him and his face burned as no sun could make it burn, and his knees grew weak. He gladly would have given all his present earthly belongings, and all in prospect for the immediate future for a kindly earth to open suddenly and swallow him. Perspiration stood out on his face as he went slowly up the stairs, at every step a row of friendly hands grasping him in congratulation.