He forced his way desperately into the center of the group and through it, looking for Parmenter, his wet clothing like ice upon his body, but a fire of hate raging in his heart. It was not long before Van Loan’s hat was in shreds; but the cane, heavy and tough, resisted all the violence brought to bear upon it, and remained unbroken. Wherever it was, there was the center of the fight. The struggling group about it moved here and there, now swiftly, now slowly, swaying and parting, meeting and clinging, the dark mass looking from a distance, in the moonlight, like some huge monster twisting and writhing in pain. Hats were lost and trampled upon. Coats were torn from the backs of their owners, clothes were rent and ruined--everywhere the campus was strewn with the débris of personal belongings. Shifting back and forth by degrees, the surging mob finally reached a point in the driveway near the corner of South College. Suddenly, the mass being rent by some swift convulsion, Parmenter darted from the midst and ran rapidly along the drive toward the main entrance to the building. He held Van Loan’s cane in his hand. In an instant Van Loan was at his heels, with Lee a good third. From the crowd that pressed forward toward them came hoarse shouts of encouragement and wild yells of anticipated victory. The non-combatants who stood by joined in the cheers, and hurried on after the racers. Those who watched closely saw that Parmenter, notwithstanding the swiftness of his gait, limped as if he had been hurt. They saw, too, that Van Loan was gaining on him; and more than one person, marking the look of desperate desire in Van Loan’s face, feared that it meant serious mischief. When Parmenter reached the stone pavement in front of the buildings Van Loan was near enough to grasp him, but he did not do so. He kept on until pursuer and pursued were side by side; then turning sharply and suddenly, he thrust out his foot and struck Parmenter’s feet from under him. The young man was hurled headlong to the pavement. He fell on his side and shoulder. The blow of his fall was heard above the storm of shouts and cheers that followed him. In an instant Van Loan had seized the cane, and flourished it for a second in heroic attitude above the prostrate body of his victim. Then finding Lee almost within touch, he turned and ran with it into an open doorway of South College. But Lee did not follow him; he stopped where Parmenter lay in the moonlight, white-faced, limp, and unconscious, with flowing blood staining the pavement under his head. “He’s hurt!” cried Lee, frightened at his friend’s appearance, and bending over him in deep anxiety. “He’s hurt! Maybe the brute has killed him! Here, give us a lift; let’s carry him in! Rob, run for Doctor Park--run!”