narrow aisles, the seniors dealt lightly with
juniors and "sophs," but demanded insatiable toll of every freshman
before he was allowed to ascend.

That a first-year man must dance was irrevocable. It had the authority
of precedent in uncounted graduate classes. To be sure, it was neither
required nor expected that all applicants be masters of the art; but,
agitate his feet in some manner, every able-bodied male member must,
or remain forever a freshman.

When Landers and his companion arrived at the top of the stairs they
found the hall packed close with fellow-classmates. The lower rows of
seats were already filled with triumphant seniors, waiting for the
throng that crowded pit and lobby to come within their reach. With
regular tapping of feet and clapping of hands in unison, the class as
one man beat the steady time of one who marches.

"Dance, freshies!" they repeated monotonously. "Dance!"

"Clear the pit for a rush," yelled the president of the besieging
freshmen, elbowing his way back into the mass.

A lull fell upon the room, as both sides gathered themselves
together.

"Now--all at once!" yelled the president, and pandemonium broke
loose.

"Rush 'em! Shove, behind there!" shrieked the struggling freshmen at
the front.

"Dance, freshies! Dance!" challenged the seniors, as they locked arms
across the narrow aisle.

"Hold 'em, fellows! Hold 'em!" encouraged the men of the upper seats,
bracing themselves against the broad backs below.

The classes met like water against a wall. To go up was impossible;
advantage of gravity and of position was all with the seniors. For an
instant, at the centre, there were frantic yelling and pulling of
loose wearing apparel; then, packed like cotton in a bale, they could
only scream for mercy.

"Loosen up, back there! Back!" they panted, squirming impotently as
they gasped for breath.

Slowly the reaction came amid the triumphant, "Dance, freshies!" of
the conquering hosts.

The jam loosened; the seniors' opportunity came. Like a big machine,
the occupants of the front row leaned forward, and seized upon a
circle of unsuspecting, retreating freshmen, among the number the
class president.

"Pass 'em up! Pass 'em up!" insisted the men above, reaching out eager
hands to aid; and with an irresistibility that seemed miraculous, the
squirming, kicking, struggling freshmen found themselves rolling
upward--head foremost, feet foremost, position unclassified--over the