CHAPTER 7
The next day, Saturday, Dick and I set out to find a room. We had not been about the dormitory long when we ran into our first acquaintances, these suave tricksters, “ Dr. Greene ” and “ Prof. Ellis. ” They didn’t even notice us! They were as uncommunicative and expressionless as the Sphinx. Dick tried to approach them in a good-natured way, evincing his willingness to bear it all in good humor, desiring cordial relations. He was turned down cold. What were we new men to do when the upper men met us in just the opposite manner of what would be logically expected? I soon learned that all the others in my class, the co-eds, too, had been subjected to the same treatment. We felt like a lost tribe, and decided to keep away from those upper men until we got a little wiser.
Dick and I at last landed in what had been used for a sick room, or temporary hospital. We kept that room a week when the drawing took place. We wound up by getting a good room on the third floor, and at last unpacked our trunks.
We had a deal of trouble learning who was who, and what was what. The reason for this, on the part of our seniors, was to keep us in hand as long as they could. We had been in those halls a week before we knew a real member of the faculty from a student, unless age revealed it plainly.
Throughout the fall the interest in the football team was all absorbing. The team had three men on it drawn from our class, and so long as these men were of vital need to the team we were treated well. We had ceased to look for tricks and light hazing as we did during the first three weeks; but none of us then suspected that this interlude of peace was for the purpose of keeping our men loyal. A change was soon to come.
About two weeks after the final Thanksgiving Day game, which we won, the team now having disbanded, my attention was attracted to a notice on the bulletin board which hung on a wall in the main hallway. This notice was an arrogant summons calling our entire class to appear in the debating hall that evening and receive instructions on “ The Proper Conduct of Ducks with Respect to Upperclassmen. ” That afternoon we were served with little printed slips covering the divers “ Rules of Conduct ” we were henceforth to observe. A line in italics at the bottom of the slip advised us to memorize the rules so we could repeat them that night when called upon to do so.
And those rules! A preamble politely called our attention to the fact (or falsehood) that we, poor, unsophisticated, childlike “ freshies ” must bear in mind that we were inferiors, and of low degree, and must remember that all upper classmen were as gods, and must be exalted, and held in fear and respect. They might as well have gone on and required reverence, too! The same old story, our college was not unlike other colleges when it came to student ethics. The rules, some eighteen in [all], called for our using “ sir ” when addressing a senior, lifting our hats to all upper men, stepping aside to let them pass, keeping off the grass where a short cut allowed. We must clean up the seniors ’ rooms once a month; we must keep off the campus after dark, and so on, about everything humiliating but sackcloth and ashes.
It wasn’t long after we got those printed orders when I got a nudge from Fred, our president, and a sign to follow him. We “ freshmen ” were soon closeted in Fred’s room. Our leader collected all those arrogant slips of paper and then pronounced a burning anathema against the upper men. He then struck a match, and with solemn rites we watched the slips burn.
“ There! ” Fred exclaimed, as we waved our arms in wild approval, “ There’s our answer to those would-be gods! Now, boys, ” he turned an earnest face to us, “ you must give me your oath not to attend the meeting tonight. ” Every hand went up. “ We will hide. Let us slip away from the supper table, one by one, and go to Shore’s class room. Keep the shades down and lights very low. You must slip away from the table while the upper men are eating, so they won’t see you going to Shore’s room. ”
The meeting was to open at seven thirty, and, as I later learned, every one of our persecutors was on hand. A senior acted as chairman, a junior was doorkeeper. Vain plans!
When seven forty-five came, and not one Duck had appeared there was a roar, so to speak, in signs, a sort of silent hell-raising, save for the noise made by shuffling, and pushing chairs. I’m telling this part of the story from what a friendly junior told me. Some one of the seniors gave an order to search the buildings and find us, and our first knowledge of what was going on came when we peeped through the windows and saw squads of students crossing the campus going from one building to another. Soon we heard (the deaf feel vibrations and call it “ hearing ”) them tramping the halls in our own building. This put our nerves on edge. We fastened the window shades tightly against the woodwork, and still further darkened the room, leaving just enough light to see to communicate. We next barricaded the door with chairs and tables, then fell to discussing our plan of battle should we be discovered.
Our getting into that class room was a fine bit of cleverness on Fred’s part. The janitor always cleaned the class rooms and locked the doors after the day’s use of them, and Fred hit on the idea of getting a skeleton key at the nearby hardware store. He took the janitor into his confidence, won him over and sent him off to town with a couple of dollars so the upper men couldn’t question him as to our whereabouts. The enemy never suspected this room as being our hiding place, because it was always kept locked.
An hour passed, when we became aware of the fact that our searchers had given up. They had come to the conclusion that we had slipped off to the city. With that in mind they determined to put the screws on us all the harder, so I learned. One by one we saw lights flare up in the students ’ rooms; one by one we saw them go out. All grew quiet. At last we felt safe; we had outwitted them. We grew careless under this sense of security and turned a light a little higher, then raised a shade to take a last look over the campus. And that was our undoing. It was no act of Fred’s however, but of a couple of thoughtless ones. A sophomore, gazing out the window from his bed, saw our dimly lighted retreat, and the secret was out. We were discovered right on the moment of victory!
Ten minutes later the enemy arrived, some half-dressed, and a terrific crash against the door told us the battle was on.
We so barricaded the door that the chairs and tables reached across the room to the opposite wall; if the lock were picked the brace, or barricade, might hold. To force the door meant to wreck those chairs and tables, and the damage would be charged to the invaders. They picked the lock, or turned it with a skeleton key, then hurled their weight against the door, we throwing ourselves against our side of it. The door yielded. We pushed it back. It gaped again. There was a crushing strain on the barricade. Then a chair broke, and the entire string of them flew in all directions like a burst bomb. The floor was strewn with the overturned furniture, and the boys were tumbling over the wreckage. We threw our combined weight against that straining door, but inch by inch the superior weight forced us back. One of our boys turned out the already low gas light, then, with a rush the invaders crashed through and the battle was on! Foe struck foe, and friend struck friend. Someone managed to light the gas again. The room filled up as more students rushed in. Further resistance was useless. The melee suddenly ended, but faces glowered as we were backed against the wall. Some of both sides had bleeding noses, some were rubbing bruised shins. We were outnumbered one to six and were seized, rushed down to the basement and ducked in tubs of icy water.
The next morning watermarks like footprints on the back stairs brought forth inquiries from the Faculty.