“Give them up peaceably, and we won’t even disturb the part in your hair,” said some one. “And be quick about it, too,” said another, “for tempus is fast fugiting.” Another body of students, scenting sport and trouble from afar, was rapidly approaching from the direction of South College. The circle about Van Loan was completed and contracting. He saw that his only hope lay in holding his enemies at bay until help should arrive from his own classmen. Yet he could not face all ways at once. “Come, here’s the last word,” said Robinson, who recognized the men now bearing down on them as members of the Freshman class; “will you surrender the obnoxious articles peaceably, or won’t you?” Van Loan, too, saw that assistance was at hand, and his courage increased accordingly. “Never!” he shouted. “These things are mine, and I’ll keep them, and the first man that lays his hands on them or me, I’ll break his--” What it was that Van Loan would have broken, no one ever knew; for Parmenter, advancing quickly to his side, tripped him so suddenly and dexterously that he measured his full length in the shallow, muddy pool into which he had been too dainty to step. In the same instant Lee snatched the cane from his grasp, and Robinson caught the silk hat as it fell. But the victory was short-lived. Van Loan’s assailants turned with their trophies only to find themselves face to face with and outnumbered by a party of Van Loan’s classmates, who plunged at once to the rescue. Then the rush was on. Up from the midst of the struggling mass came the class call of the Sophomores. It was followed at once by the class cry of the Freshmen. Soon the campus was alive with students hurrying singly and in groups toward the scene of the conflict. Freshmen and Sophomores darted at once into the thick of the fight, while the Juniors and Seniors, moving about on the outskirts of the battleground, cheered and encouraged alternately the contending factions. Van Loan had struggled to his feet as the center of battle moved away from him, and looked down ruefully and in speechless anger at his soiled and dripping garments. “Don’t look very pretty, do they?” said a smiling Junior who stood by. The victim of the drenching did not deign a reply. He jerked off his coat, and began wringing the water from it. Suddenly he asked: “Who was it, anyway? What coward threw me down?” “A young fellow by the name of Parmenter,” was the answer; “a first-class all-around athlete. I shall be happy to introduce you to him at some more opportune moment.” Van Loan did not relish the bantering tone of his informant; and muttering something more about cowards and bullies, he turned savagely on his heel, and started across the campus toward his room. But a second thought appeared to come to him; for in the next moment he swung himself quickly about and ran, as fast as his heavy garments would permit him to, toward the crowd that was still struggling over his hat and cane.