Langridge made a third attempt, and failed. Then Snail Looper called out in an excited whisper: "Here come the sophs! Cut it!" "No!" cried Langridge. "Hold on! I'll get it over now. Fight 'em back, boys!" CHAPTER II A GOOD THROW There was excitement in the ranks of the freshmen. They formed in a ring about Langridge, who once more prepared to throw the weight over the cross. "Hold 'em back, boys!" he pleaded. "We can do it. It won't take five minutes to get the clapper after the rope's up." "But first you've got to get it up," replied Clinton. "And I will. Cut out your knocking. Here goes!" Off to the right could be seen a confused mass of shadows moving toward the chapel. They were the sophomores, who in some mysterious manner had heard of the attempt to take the clapper, and who now determined to prevent it. "They're coming," said Kerr ominously. "I know it," answered Langridge desperately. "Keep still about it, can't you?" he asked fretfully. "You make me nervous, and I can't throw well." "Humph! He must be a fine pitcher if he gets nervous," declared Clinton. Langridge glanced at the circle of freshmen about him. There were enough of them to stand off the rush of the sophomores, who, as they came nearer, were observed to be rather few in number. "Here it goes!" exclaimed the rich youth, and he threw the lead weight with all his force. It struck the cross, but did not carry the cord over the arm. "At 'em, fellows! At 'em!" yelled the leading sophomores. "Tear 'em apart! Don't let 'em get the clapper!" There was a struggle on the outer fringe of freshmen, who crumpled up under the attack of the second-year lads. "Hold 'em back!" yelled Langridge. There was no longer any need of caution. The sophomores were hurled back by the weight of superior numbers. Seeing this their leader hastily sent for reinforcements. Meanwhile the others renewed their attack on the freshmen. Langridge prepared to make another cast. "He'll never do that in a week!" exclaimed Clinton in disgust. "Why doesn't some one who can throw try it?" "I'll throw, all right!" cried Langridge, as he untangled the cord, which was in a mass at his feet. He was about to make another attempt, when a lad stepped to his side--a lad who was a stranger to the others. Where he had come from they did not know. "Let me try," he said pleasantly. "I used to be pretty fair at throwing stones. Your arm is tired, I guess." "Who are you?" demanded Langridge suspiciously. "Are you a soph? How'd you get here?" "I'm not a soph," replied the other good-naturedly, in a pause that followed a second hurling back of the attackers, who withdrew to wait for reinforcements. "I'm a freshman. My name is Parsons--Tom Parsons. I'm a little late getting here this term. In fact, I just arrived to-night. I was on my way from the depot to the college, when, as I crossed the campus, I heard what was up. As I'm a freshman, I decided to join in. Hope it's all right."