Pretty Falls river was a good quarter of a mile from Bartlett College. It was wide and deep and swift! Unhappily for lovers of canoe riding the river possessed too many little falls or jagged, protruding rocks, to make this sport safe. However, there were certain swimming holes which were popular in the late spring and summer weather. On this particular moonlight night, although the air was chilly, every member of the Bartlett second team gathered for a celebration near the bank of the Pretty Falls. The first arrivals had built a huge bonfire and the entire squad crowded around it. Speeches and music of all sorts seemed to be the main program of the evening. While the seconds were, as they thought, secretly enjoying themselves, Benz was busy about the campus plotting their destruction. In some mysterious way the news of the would-be celebration had leaked out. It was easy to get some fifty students to co-operate with him in the scheme. In fact, most of the first team were so enthusiastic over the idea that they led the army on the march to attack the unsuspecting scrubs. McCabe was last speaker and he was discoursing highly upon the merits of the second team, the honors that it had won, et cetera. "Gentlemen," said McCabe, "To-day has marked a great day in the history of the second football team. Well may we say with Caesar, 'I came; I saw; I conquered.' We sent the enemy home with drooping heads, flushing with shame! Their retreat to the locker room was the saddest sight I ever hope to witness. The tears shed by the vanquished would have kept Noah's ark afloat for thirty years. It is with sincere regret that I order the camp fire to be smothered; the arms to be stacked; and the last bugle call to be sounded. We are out of provisions. We must retreat, ... hey! Beat it, fellows! We are discovered!" With wild whoops and yells the foe, half a hundred strong, charged down upon the unprepared enemy. McCabe didn't stop to review his troops or present a battle front. He fled like Antony from the clutch of Caesar. Judd was slow in getting under way but gave a good account of himself until overpowered by sheer force of numbers. "Tie those legs!" cried one of the enemy, holding his stomach, "He kicks worse than a mule!" Benz threw a noose over Judd's feet and drew it tight, until he quieted down. "This is a new game to me," Judd grinned, "But I reckon it's all right." The enemy laughed. Outposts came up dragging other prisoners. McCabe had almost gotten away but was captured on a fierce tackle by Bartz, who played left end on the varsity. "What shall we do with 'em, sir?" asked Bartz, turning and saluting Benz, respectfully. "How many have you captured?" "Six, sir, not counting Rube and McCabe." "Good! Make them run the gauntlet and release them!" "And what shall we do with the other two?" "Hold them until further orders!" "Very well, sir."