Hill came, and found several other freshmen there. "Take hold of this stick," said the junior.
He put his big fists about it and found himself flying across the room. He landed against the door and beside him lay a table, which never arose.
"Now, that is cane-spreeing," said the junior casually, as one would say, "Down there is the new Art building," "and I want all you fellows to meet me at eight o'clock back of chapel."
That night they gave Hill a cane and said, "Take hold of this and don't let go." He held it for an hour against every one except the junior that was sophomore heavy weight the previous year. But he had never yet been quick enough to take it away from anyone, even the light weights. And that was the reason he was a substitute waiting in Montie Cunningham's room wrapped in two sweaters and a blanket. His eyes were closed and he was thinking about what a bully time his younger brother Ike must be having among the chestnuts this month.
The big leather chair was soft and he might have fallen asleep had not at that moment a tremendous yell burst into existence down below--a loud, shrill, fiendish yell which lasted nearly a minute before it was shaken down to an organized cheer. Hill stretched.
The others were out on the balcony. "Tell us which has it! For heaven's sake, tell us!" they cried to every one below; and no one below answered. So all they could do was to bite their lips and wait until the yelling became cheering, and then they knew from the exultant tones of the sophomores what they did not want to know.
Just then they caught a glimpse of the victor waving the cane in his hand as he was borne high on the shoulders of his class-mates to West Witherspoon.
Then they had a confused view of the rush. The upper classes fell to one side and the other two fell upon one another. This was the fiercest sort of rushing known to the proctors. The two sides were not, as in the cannon rush, evenly lined up four abreast. Not a bit of it. There were two thickly massed bodies of men, one running up a grade, the other charging down, and the roll of their footsteps was as the sound of much cattle, running. For a moment each tried to keep in solid form. But only long enough for some one to be knocked down and run over by the rest. After the first crash it was mixed fighting. In the moonlight one could not invariably distinguish friend from foe. So each man doubled up both fists and let drive at everyone he saw. It was glorious.