ain Dale," he said, breathlessly, "if it's so--if my class
has picked me--I can't throw them down. I don't know a soul in my
class. I haven't a friend. But I won't throw them down--not to be
forever free of dodging Sophs--not even to square myself with you."

"Ward, you're all right!" shouted Dale, his eyes shining.

In the quiet moment that followed, with all the sophomores watching him
intently, Ken Ward instinctively felt that his measure had been taken.

"I won't stay here," said Ken, and for the first time his voice rang.

"Oh yes, you will," replied Dale, laughing.

Quick as a cat Ken leaped for the door and got it unlocked and half open
before some one clutched him. Then Dale was on him close and hard. Ken
began to struggle. He was all muscle, and twice he broke from them.

"His legs! Grab his legs! He's a young bull!"

"We'll trim you now, Freshie!"

"You potato-masher!"

"Go for his wind!"

Fighting and wrestling with all his might Ken went down under a half
dozen sophomores. Then Dale was astride his chest, and others were
sitting on his hands and feet.

"Boys, don't hurt that arm!" yelled Worry Arthurs.

"Ward, will you be good now and stop scrapping or shall we tie you?"
asked Dale. "You can't get away. The thing to do is to give your word
not to try. We want to make this easy for you. Your word of honor, now?"

"Never!" cried Ken.

"I knew you wouldn't," said Dale. "We'll have to keep you under guard."

They let him get up. He was panting, and his nose was bleeding, and one
of his knuckles was skinned. That short struggle had been no joke. The
Sophs certainly meant to keep him prisoner. Still, he was made to feel
at ease. They could not do enough for him.

"It's tough luck, Ward, that you should have fallen into our hands this
way," said Dale. "But you couldn't help it. You will be kept in my rooms
until after the fifteenth. Meals will be brought you, and your books;
everything will be done for your comfort. Your whereabouts, of course,
will be a secret, and you will be closely watched. Worry, remember you
are bound to silence. And Ward, perhaps it wasn't an ill wind that blew
you here. You've had your last scrap with a Soph, that's sure. As for
what brought you here--it's more than square; and I'll say this: if you
can play ball as well as you can scrap, old Wayne has got a star."

IV

THE CALL FOR CANDIDATES

There were five rooms in Dale's suite in the dormitory, and three