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160 Howard L. Terry A Sophomore’s Revenge LAWRENCE ALLEN was the most effeminate student that ever set foot upon the campus, and he greatly deplored it. He possessed an extremely girlish face; he was of medium height, and was far from being robust. Exercise and enter college sports as much as he would, he found it impossible to build himself up, or develop himself better than nature intended him to be. And thus it was that Allen found himself at a great disadvantage among the other students. On account of this natural imperfection and frailty, he had been subjected to many indignities from upper class men throughout his Freshman year. And now he was a Sophomore, he longed to deal with those below him as he had been dealt with the previous year. Now Allen well knew that the Freshmen were not in the least responsible for his past injuries, but what cares a Sophomore for that? He has cast off the oppressive yoke which has held him a prisoner for a year, and consequently is now the most dangerous man to those below him to be found in college. The time has come when he finds that he has subordinates and he deals with them accordingly. When the term was well on, the Sophomores received the accustomed challenge from the Freshmen to a cane-rush. With what ill forebodings did Lawrence look forward to it, for there was not one in the Freshman class who was capable of disposing of him in a twinkling in such a contest. He would not have hesitated to give a small fortune for the magnificent physique and great strength of Stannard just then, but that was impossible, and he began to figure up the number of bruises in store for him. When the day for the rush arrived he secretly donned the heaviest pair of football breeches he could find and pulled a thick sweater over his pretty little head and after some effort, managed to cover them with his usual apparel. The rush came off, and an unusually rough one it was, and the Freshmen won. During the fray poor little Allen was pummeled rather more than he cared for, and despite his heavy padding, he was very much sorer that night than he ever had been before. A certain Freshman, Jack Tutts, was mostly to blame for it, and Allen made up his mind to get even with him sooner or later. Half that night he remained awake, brooding over the day’s disaster. Time and again he would tension his arms, vainly searching for a knot or two of muscle that might help him. But there was none, and he sighed. “No.” said he, “I can’t rely on strength to repay him, and I won’t have another fellow do it for me, as that would be losing the fun; so I must rely upon stratagem.” “A Sophomore’s Revenge” is from The Silent Worker 23, no 3 (December 1910). Originally published in The Buff and Blue (March, 1896). A Sophomore’s Revenge 161 * * * About two weeks after the rush, when the excitement had begun to subside, Lawrence decided to follow up a scheme he had planned. He had entrusted his secret to a few intimate friends whom he deemed necessary to help him when the time for action arrived. Between eight and nine o’clock of the following Saturday evening, two students, a Sophomore, Dave Hill, and a Freshman, Jack Tutts, were leisurely approaching the college from the city. It was not a very dark night, nor was it moonlight. The constellations , like myriad candles, danced and sparkled in wondrous brilliancy, casting a faint illumination on the earth below. As the pair drew near the campus a figure—that of a girl—was seen to be approaching. The two had barely time to exchange remarks ere the figure was before them. The boys had never met her before, nor is it to be wondered at, for a student is not likely to claim acquaintance with every co-ed that graces his college. For an instant, it appeared as if the encounter would amount to nothing, for the girl passed on. Suddenly Dave turned and spoke: “Pardon my audacity; but may we speak a moment?” Knowing the remark was addressed to her, she paused, appeared embarrassed, then returned a faint “Well?” The two approached. “You are one of the co-eds, aren’t you?” asked Dave, “and may...

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