Gradually Tom, Phil and their particular chums worked their way up to the crest. Then they found that the freshmen had adopted strange tactics. Under the advice of Gerhart they stretched out prone, and, with arms and legs twined together, made a regular layer of bodies, covering the summit. It was almost impossible to separate the lads one from the other, in order to hurl them out of the way. They were literally "sticking together." "Tear 'em apart!" pleaded Tom. "Rip 'em up!" shouted Phil. "Hold tight!" sung out Gerhart. And hang tightly they did. Tom succeeded in breaking the hold of one lad, and Phil that of another. But, in turn, the two big sophomores were borne down and overwhelmed by the weight of freshmen on their backs. The referee blew a warning whistle. But two minutes of time were left. The sophomores redoubled their efforts, but the ruse of the freshmen was a good one. It was like trying to tear apart a living doormat. The sophomores could not do it. Though they labored like Trojans, it was not to be. Once more the whistle blew, indicating that the rush was ended. The sophomores had lost, and for the remainder of the term the freshmen could strut proudly about the walk of Booker Memorial Chapel. CHAPTER XVIII A FIRE ALARM "Well," remarked Phil ruefully, as he and Tom, rather sore and bruised, went to their room. There was an air of quietness about the sophomores. They did not cheer and sing, but back on the knoll the victorious freshmen made the night hideous with their college cries. "Is that all?" inquired Tom, for Phil had uttered only the one word. "That's all, son, as Bricktop Molloy would say. 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' We were dumped good and proper." "With plenty of gravy on the side," added Sid. "I was afraid of it," spoke Tom solemnly. "I said they were too many for us." "Listen to old 'I told you so,'" mocked Phil. "Next he'll be telling us that he predicted we'd lose the football championship. You make me tired!" "I'm tired already," retorted Tom good naturedly. "Some one gave me an extra good poke in the ribs the last minute." "It was Gerhart," declared Sid. "I saw him. I had a good notion to punch him for you." "I'd just as well you didn't," went on Tom. "There's no love lost between us and his crony, Langridge, now. No use making matters worse. But he certainly managed the freshies well. That was a good trick, lying down and making a mat of themselves." "Yes; hereafter I suppose it will be the regular practice for future classes," said Phil. "We'll have to think up a new plan to break up that kind of interference. My, but I'm lame!" "Better not let Lighton hear you say that." "Why?" "He'd lay you off from football. There are three candidates for every position on the 'varsity this term, and we fellows who have made the eleven will have to take care of ourselves." "That's so," admitted Tom. "Well, a hot bath will fix me up, and then for some good sleep."