"Shin up now, Snail!" cried Langridge, who had again assumed command of things. "Quick! We'll hold the rope! Get the clapper!" The night-loving youth moved slowly forward. But, in spite of his lack of speed, he managed to make good time up the rope, which he skilfully ascended hand over hand. "Don't let 'em get the clapper!" "Break through and yank down the rope!" were the cries of the sophomores. Again and again they hurled themselves against the circle of freshmen, who protected the two groups of their comrades holding either end of the rope. "Hold 'em, boys! Hold 'em!" pleaded Langridge. Tom Parsons threw himself into the thick of the fight. He gave blows, and he took them, all in good nature. Once, when a small sophomore broke through, Tom picked him up bodily and deposited him outside the circle of defenders. "Say, he's got muscle, all right," observed Clinton to Kerr. "That's what. There's class there, all right. Shouldn't wonder but what he'd give Langridge a rub for pitcher, if he plays baseball." "Oh, he'll play, all right. A fellow who can throw as he did can't help playing." "Who's that?" asked Sid in a breathing spell, following a temporary repulse of the enemy. "The new lad--Tom Parsons." "Oh, yes, he plays ball," said Sid. "His father knows my father. They used to be chums in Northville, a country town. That's how Tom happened to come here, and he asked if he couldn't room with me. He plays ball, all right." "Pitch?" asked Clinton laconically. "I think so. Look out, here they come again!" The conversation was interrupted to repel another rush. "Look out below!" suddenly called the Snail from his perch near the cupola. "Got the clapper?" yelled Langridge. "Yep! Here it is!" Something fell with a thud in the midst of a group of freshmen. It was the bell clapper, which the Snail had unhooked. Tom Parsons made a dive for it. "I'll take that!" exclaimed Langridge roughly, as he shoved the newcomer to one side and grabbed up the mass of iron. "I was only going to help," replied Tom good-naturedly. "Cut with it!" ordered Kerr. "We can't hold 'em much longer, and we don't want 'em to get it now. Skip, Langridge. Take some interference with you." As if it was a football game, several lads made a sort of flying wedge in front of Langridge, with him inside the apex, and, thus protected, he bored through the mass of sophomores. "After him!" yelled several second-years, who had become aware of the trick. "He's got the clapper!" Most of the lads rushed away from the chapel, only those remaining who were holding the rope taut. Some of these even started away. "Hold on!" yelled the Snail. "I'm up here yet! I want to get down!" "Don't leave Sam up there!" cried Kerr. "Hold the rope, fellows, until he shins down." Several freshmen ran back. "I'll help hold," volunteered Tom, though there was a temptation to join the fighting throng that surrounded Langridge and his defenders.