"That fellow, yelling for a Freshman lightweight candidate, is the crew captain," went on the heeler; "and over there to his left is Dunnelly, the chap who kicked the goal against Princeton last year and saved us the game." The heeler pointed out the celebrities as they prowled around the ring, calling loudly for wrestling champions. "You see," explained the heeler, "there are wrestling bouts in the three weights,--light, middle and heavy, between the Sophomore and Freshmen for the class championship. Three bouts in each event." "O, you Freshmen, show your sand, trot out a candidate!" bawled one of the men within the ring. The crowd outside clamored for candidates from the Freshmen. "We want a Sophomore lightweight!" roared another, and the crowd took up the cry and repeated it. "Sophomore lightweight, Freshman lightweight, don't be quitters, come across with the champions!" "Sophomore lightweight, Sophomore lightweight!" "Freshman lightweight!" "Don't be quitters!" "Show your sand, Freshmen!" Suddenly there was a commotion on one side of the ring, and amid yells and the shaking of torches, the living wall opened and a slender, blond-haired youth stepped into the ring. "Who is he?" "What's his name?" "Sophomore or Freshman?" "Sophomore," said the boy. "Your name," demanded a marshal. "Ballard." "Your weight?" "One twenty-nine, stripped." "You'll do." Immediately two Juniors volunteered to second him, and fell to work stripping him to the waist, the traditional custom for the friendly combat. Meanwhile the calling for a Freshman lightweight went on without success, and the crowd was throwing red-hot taunts at the youngest class for shirking their duty. The Freshmen had pushed one of their number into the ring, but he proved to be over the required weight and was cast out without ceremony. A commotion on the outside of the ring started anew the calls for a Freshman lightweight, and the call was unexpectedly answered by the appearance of a young man in delicate light gray clothes with blue necktie and socks to match, who was passed unceremoniously over the hands of the crowd and deposited right-side-up on the green grass of the enclosure. Jimmy gasped. "The Codfish, or I'm a Hottentot!" "No one else, for sure. How did they get him?" exclaimed Frank. The Codfish was greeted by a rattling cheer, followed by much advice. "Well done, Freshman!" "Take off those pretty clothes!" "He certainly is a Yale man, look at that tie!" "Good work, Freshman, eat him up!" The referee, the Captain of the Yale Wrestling Team, strode over to the Codfish, and looked him up and down. "You are not a very promising specimen," he said. "Ever wrestle before?" "Never," said Gleason. "All I know about wrestling wouldn't hurt anyone." "What's your name and weight?" "Gleason, and I weigh one twenty-five." "Stripped or with those clothes on?"