Meanwhile the freshmen were not idle. In large numbers they had quietly gathered at the boathouse, in the dark shadows of which they remained in hiding, waiting for the opening of the singing and the consequent breaking up of the sophomore body. "What's the game?" asked Sid of Tom as those two and Phil Clinton made their way to the rendezvous. "Water pipes, fire or something brand new?" "You can search me," was Tom's non-committal answer. "I hope it's something new. There doesn't seem to be any provisions for a bonfire and none of us swiped the fire hose." "Langridge and his committee have it in charge," said Phil. "There's some secrecy about it, and very properly, too. Last year, I understand, it leaked out and the fun was spoiled." Tom did not reply, but he wondered what use Langridge was going to make of the wire. "They ought to start soon now," whispered Phil. "There's a good crowd of them there." "Yes, and they've got scouts out all around," added Sid as he and his chums saw a number of shadowy figures patroling the stretch around the pavilion. "They're not going to be caught unawares." "I don't see how we're going to break 'em up," remarked Phil. "You wait and you'll see," exclaimed Langridge, who was moving about among the freshmen. "Say, Ed, you'd better go now and light the fuse." "Is it an explosion?" asked Sid eagerly. "Better be careful," cautioned Phil. Tom's heart was thumping. He began to see the use to which the wire might be put, and he was afraid lest he had taken part in some dangerous prank. If Langridge had planned to explode a mine under the pavilion, some one might be injured. "There'll be no explosion, only an explosion of wrath pretty soon," replied Langridge. "Go ahead, Kerr. Let 'em sing one song and they'll think we've called it off. Then let it go." Kerr hurried off, keeping in the shadows. No sooner had he started than a movement was noticeable among the sophomores, groups of whom could easily be seen now, as the moon was well up. Then, on the stillness of the night, there broke a song. It was an old melody, sacred to Randall, and, in spite of being rendered by hilarious students, it was well done. "That's not half bad," commented Phil. "They've got some good members for the glee club there." "It's punk!" sneered Langridge. "Wait until we have a song fest. We'll make them feel sick!" The melody continued, and coming as it did from the distance, while all about was the wondrous beauty of the moon, the effect produced on Tom Parsons was one of distinct pleasure. It was like being at some play. "What a pity," he thought, "to spoil it all! What brutes we college fellows are--sometimes. I like to listen to that." The song was softer now, and then it broke forth into a full chorus, well rendered. "It's a shame to break it up," reasoned Tom. Then a class feeling overcame him. After all, the sophomores were their traditional enemies, and college tradition demanded that they disperse the gathering.