When he had gone a couple of blocks, he came to a portion of the road when the shadows were densest. Here the trees grew close to the thoroughfare, and this fact made it a splendid hiding place for anyone so inclined. There was a legend told of a peddler who had, once upon a time, been set upon by tramps at this point, and robbed and beaten, so that he died of his hurts. Even bold people were wont to hurry their steps a trifle when passing this ill-omened place. Ralph, however, kept on at his customary pace, still whistling one of the songs he had so lately sung with Frank and Helen Allen. Just as he was half-way past the shadowy spot, he heard a sudden shrill sound, not unlike a referee's whistle on the football gridiron. Dark figures immediately sprang up close by, and the rush of many feet told that the danger anticipated by Frank was about to materialize. Ralph at once threw himself into a position of self defense, and at the same time shouted out the call for assistance so well known to all the sons of Columbia High. CHAPTER IV TREACHERY IN THE CAMP "Columbiad! Columbiad!" It was the call for assistance, known to, and respected by, every boy who loved the name of Columbia High School--a rallying cry in time of emergency, when the enemy had carried the ball down close to the home goal, and almost supernatural efforts were needed, in order to beat back the rising tide. Never did the old familiar yell of "Hey, Rube!" appeal more positively to canvasmen connected with a traveling circus, when set upon by rowdies in some wayside town, than did this shout. Ralph had no time for more. From three sides he found himself attacked by unknown foes. Some had their hats drawn far over their faces, in order to conceal their identity, while others had gone still further, and tied handkerchiefs over the lower half, with the same purpose in view. A jargon of angry cries arose, each assailant seeming desirous of venting his especial method for showing dislike. "Down him, boys!" "Spank the cub!" "Send him back where he belongs; we don't want poorhouse brats here!" "Do him up! Butt in, fellows! Make a clean sweep of it now!" Among all these outcries, only that one concerning the "poorhouse" stung the ears of the boy at bay. It was so cruel, so mean, so utterly uncalled for, that his whole body seemed to quiver with indignation, and a burning fire shot through his veins. He had thrown himself into an attitude of self defense, with his back against a tree. In this way he was able to avoid considerable punishment, since the attacking force could not completely surround him, the tree being an unusually big one. [Illustration: HE HAD THROWN HIMSELF INTO AN ATTITUDE OF SELF-DEFENSE.] So far as he could see, there were at least half a dozen opposed to him. Evidently Tony and Asa did not mean to take any chances when trying to put the new candidate for honors on the regular team out of the running.