The crowd, suddenly quieted, pressed forward toward the point where Parmenter lay. Half a dozen of his classmen had already lifted him in their arms, and a moment later they were carrying him, hurt, helpless, still unconscious, across the moonlit campus to his room. But the fight was won. Van Loan’s stroke, cruel and revengeful though it was, had placed victory in the hands of the Freshmen. Henceforth every man in the class was entitled, by virtue of the time-honored student law, to wear a high hat and carry a cane whenever and wherever he might choose to do so. CHAPTER II. THE GAMMA QUESTERS. Parmenter recovered consciousness soon after he was carried to his room, after being thrown so viciously by Van Loan; but when the college physician came he declared that there was a fracture of the right clavicle. There was also a deep scalp wound where Parmenter’s head had struck on a sharp edge of the stone pavement, and this required stitching and dressing. When the bathing and bandaging and plastering had been done, the injured man was thoroughly exhausted, and weak from loss of blood. His bosom friend, Charley Lee, remained to care for him through the night. Next morning Parmenter awoke, refreshed and comfortable. By and by the doctor came. Parmenter gave him hardly time to take off his overcoat before he inquired, “How long will it be, doctor, before I shall have the free use of my arm?” “Oh, three or four weeks,” was the reply. “These simple fractures of the clavicle are of no great consequence. They heal up very quickly.” Parmenter’s face fell. Three or four weeks! His injury might indeed have been of no great consequence from the surgeon’s point of view, but to him it was a serious matter. It was likely to block his way to the prize stage. At Concord College one evening of Commencement week was devoted to the delivery of orations by Juniors and Sophomores in competition for prizes. Six competitors were selected from each class at a trial contest held about three months before Commencement. To be appointed to the prize stage was a marked honor, and one which Parmenter greatly coveted. He had worked for it for months. The trial speaking was to take place in the college chapel on the following Friday; and here he was, and would be for weeks, with a broken collar-bone, and his right arm in a sling! When Lee came back from breakfast, Parmenter exclaimed with a groan, “It’s all up, Charley!” “What’s all up?” asked Lee, advancing in alarm to the bed. “Why, the prize stage! The doctor says I can’t use my arm for a month, and here’s the trial speaking coming on next Friday!” “I hadn’t thought of that,” replied Lee, sinking into a chair. “It is a bad business, that’s so.” After a minute he added, “But your voice will be all right, Fred; you can have that as clear as a bell.”