the Codfish, "and they threw me into the ring, and when I got there, what was there left but to take my medicine?"

"Who was it that chucked you over our heads, and why didn't you follow us when we made a break?" demanded Frank.

"O, you ducked off so fast that I lost track of you, and then while I was hunting around for you a bunch of fellows came along and asked me if I were a Freshman."

"And you said no, of course," said Jimmy.

"No, I said yes with the result as you saw it. I was lucky to escape with my life. How that Sophomore came to let me throw him is more than I can understand."

"It was the blue socks that did it," declared Frank. "He simply couldn't withstand them."

"Come on home," said the Codfish, groaning. "I'm a mess."

"Not till this match is over," said Frank. "We've got to stick by the class. There's one for us I guess," as Freshmen yells betokened a fall for the candidate of the youngest class in the heavyweight match now going on desperately in the ring they had left.

Five minutes more, and a great burst of cheering announced the end of the match with the Freshman candidate a winner.

"That gives us the championship," shouted Frank, and the three friends grasped each other about the shoulders and whirled around in a wild dance, the Codfish favoring his lame knee as much as possible.

Like magic the great crowd of students faded from the Campus and headed for York street. At the corner of High street and Elm the gang of town roughs, now augmented to a hundred or more, yelled defiance at the students, and occasionally fell upon some of them who were on the outskirts of the crowd.

"Look out for your caps," came the warning, but it was not given soon enough to prevent some of the unwary from losing their headgear at the hands of the roughs who were out for the particular business that night of cap-snatching. Hot blows were struck, the whole body of students uniting against the common enemy. At every few steps a rough, backed by a half dozen of his pals, dashed into the students and for a moment there would be a whirlwind of fighting, ending generally in the attacking party beating a retreat with bloody noses but with the prized cap trophies.

Keeping out of the fighting, the three friends moved slowly with the crowd in the direction of Pierson Hall on York street, where their rooms were located. Frank supported the crippled Codfish with an arm around his waist. Jimmy appointed himself as rear guard, keeping a wary lookout for attacks.

Suddenly out of the crowd swooped two roughs and charged full at Frank and the Codfish, bowling them over like nine-pins. One of the roughs grabbed Gleason's cap, which he was unwise enough to wear, and with it a handful of his hair. This brought a blood-curdling yell from the victim of the assault, and drew the attention of the crowd.

For the second time that night Jimmy went into action. A well-delivered punch knocked the cap-snatcher into the street, but before he could do more execution he was set on by a half dozen of the snatcher's friends who had followed closely on their companion's heels. Frank dropped the Codfish and sprang to Jimmy's assistance, and in a second a scrap of major proportions was in full swing. The boys put up a whirlwind argument with their fists, and were holding their own when through the mass came ploughing two officers of the law, the light flashing on their brass buttons.

"Police, police, beat it!" yelled the roughs, and they fled precipitately, all excepting the two that Frank and Jimmy were pummeling with such exceeding vigor that they didn't have time to escape.

Into the circle where the fight was going on strode the officers with clubs drawn.

"Quit it and come with us," said one of the policemen. "We're going to put a stop to this street fighting. A night in the lock-up will take some of the spunk out of you fellows. Come on," and each grabbed an arm of Armstrong and Turner while the roughs who had started the trouble, with terrified looks, turned, dashed through the crowd, and made their escape.

"They snatched my cap," said the Codfish.

"So you were in it, too? You better come along with your friends," said one of the officers, reaching for Gleason's arm.

"Why don't you take the roughs that started the muss?" remonstrated Frank.

"No lip, young fellow," said the officer, scowling and shaking his club. Both policemen started forward, pushing their captors ahead of them, but the crowd blocked the way and began to hoot and yell. It looked like serious trouble for a minute when, shouldering through the crowd, came a giant of a man wearing the uniform of the University police.

"What's the matter, boys?" he said in a soft tone.

"These young fellows were fighting and we're going to jug them for a while."

"No, I wouldn't do that, now," urged the soft voice. "Maybe they had a reason. Let me take charge of them. They're good boys."

"They were defending themselves," said a man who stepped forward from the ring of spectators. "I saw the muss and these boys are not to blame." Turner recognized in the speaker the man who had asked him to report at the Field the next week, and his heart sank. It was a bad way to start his Yale career, he thought.

"Let me take them in charge," urged the University officer, and reluctantly the City policemen released their holds on the offenders.

"Well, see that they don't get into trouble again on the streets or you can't save them."

"O, I'll take care of them," and then to Frank, "Come on, boys, let's go over to your room. I wouldn't have you fighting for the world. It isn't a good way to start, you know."

"We simply couldn't help it," Turner burst out. "What would you do in such a case?"

"O, I'd just naturally run," said the officer, and a laugh shook his huge bulk.

"But if you couldn't run?" urged Turner.

"Well, I'd just naturally have to fight, I s'pose," and he laughed again his good-natured laugh which had numberless times quieted turbulent spirits. "We'll forgive you this time. Now where do you live? I'll see you to your rooms. You've had enough fun for the night."

"We live together at Pierson, just around the corner," said Frank.

"Come on then," said the officer, and accompanied by a cheering crowd, the procession moved onward while the roughs, regaining some of their courage, followed at a safe distance and jeered.

The boys gained their room without further trouble, and for an hour looked down on the seething mass on York street below where the classes pushed and struggled in good-natured fun.

"Well, it's been some evening," said the Codfish reminiscently as he daubed arnica on his bruised knee.

"Yes, Yale seems to be a lively little place," said Turner. "Hand me over that arnica when you have done with it. I have a few tender spots myself."

"I'll have a lick at it when you are through with it, Jimmy," laughed Frank. "I lost a yard of skin in the last mêlée. I hope they don't have many nights like this. I wouldn't last."

Sore and bruised the three crawled into their beds, but the sting of broken skin could not stifle the feeling of radiant happiness that was theirs because at last they were "Yale men," and a part of the great institution about which their dreams had so long centered.

CHAPTER III. THE CODFISH CREATES NEWS.

Golden October, slipping rapidly by, found our boys settled comfortably in their