“Sunny Jim,” Charley Chaplin and Ben Turpin were among the characters that could be seen in the long lines of freshmen that, three abreast, were arranged still farther back in the procession, and at last, at the word of Allen, the junior who was acting as the marshal of the day, the march was begun.  Frequently Will turned and glanced behind him at the long, tortuous line, and its ridiculous appearance caused him to laugh and say to Foster: 

“Did you ever see anything in your life like that?”

“I never did.”

“Silence there in the ranks!” called Allen sharply, for he chanced to be marching near the “fire engine.”  Not a trace of a smile could be seen on his face, and to all appearances he was engaged in what he considered one of the most serious events of his life.

In the streets the people were lined up and their laughter and good-natured applause could be heard on every side.  Small boys followed the line of march or walked beside the long column, and their derisive remarks were frequent and loud.  The sophomores also added their comments, but there was no open disturbance throughout the march.  It was one of the events of freshman year and as such was evidently not to be entered upon lightly or unadvisedly, like certain other important epochs in life.

At last the procession arrived at the athletic field and there broke up for the baseball game with the sophomores.  The grand stand was already filled with the people and students that had watched the march, and, as soon as Will and Foster had donned their baseball suits, for both had been selected to play on the freshman nine, they appeared upon the field, where already the other members of the team were awaiting their coming.

“I didn’t see Peter John, did you, Foster?” inquired Will.

“No.  It’ll be all the worse for him, I fancy.”

“No doubt about that.  What are we going to do with him, Foster?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t like to see the chap suffer for his own foolishness.”

“Neither do I. But he’ll have to learn for himself.  You can’t tell him anything.”

“You can tell him all right enough, but I’m afraid that’s all the good it does.  You might as well try to polish sponge.”

The conversation ceased as the call for the game to be begun was heard and both boys hastened to take the positions in which they were to play.  The noise among the spectators increased as the signal was given, but for three innings both nines played earnestly and seriously.  At the end of the third inning, with the score standing five to four in favor of the sophomores, a radical change was made.  The batter was blindfolded and compelled to stand upon an upturned barrel, which was substituted for the home plate.  The pitcher and catcher were each also to stand upon a barrel and the pitcher was ordered to throw the ball with his left hand.  Naturally it was impossible for the batter to hit the ball, since