# The Boys of Columbia High on the Gridiron/Chapter 4
#### CHAPTER IV
##### TREACHERY IN THE CAMP

"Columbiad! Columbiad!"
It was the call for assistance, known to, and respected by, every boy who loved the name of Columbia High School—a rallying cry in time of emergency, when the enemy had carried the ball down close to the home goal, and almost supernatural efforts were needed, in order to beat back the rising tide.
Never did the old familiar yell of "Hey, Rube!" appeal more positively to canvasmen connected with a traveling circus, when set upon by rowdies in some wayside town, than did this shout.
Ralph had no time for more. From three sides he found himself attacked by unknown foes. Some had their hats drawn far over their faces, in order to conceal their identity, while others had gone still further, and tied handkerchiefs over the lower half, with the same purpose in view.
​A jargon of angry cries arose, each assailant seeming desirous of venting his especial method for showing dislike.
"Down him, boys!"
"Spank the cub!"
"Send him back where he belongs; we don't want poorhouse brats here!"
"Do him up! Butt in, fellows! Make a clean sweep of it now!"
Among all these outcries, only that one concerning the "poorhouse" stung the ears of the boy at bay. It was so cruel, so mean, so utterly uncalled for, that his whole body seemed to quiver with indignation, and a burning fire shot through his veins.
He had thrown himself into an attitude of self defense, with his back against a tree. In this way he was able to avoid considerable punishment, since the attacking force could not completely surround him, the tree being an unusually big one.
So far as he could see, there were at least half a dozen opposed to him. Evidently Tony and Asa did not mean to take any chances when trying to put the new candidate for honors on the regular team out of the running.
HE HAD THROWN HIMSELF INTO AN ATTITUDE OF SELF-DEFENSE.
​order to keep their courage up, and prevent Ralph from recognizing any one particular voice.
The beleaguered boy was himself fighting like a cat at bay. He had no positive asurance that friends were near, and with so many eager hands striving to reach his face and body, he had to retaliate, giving blow for blow.
Once he managed to dash his clenched fist into the face of a fellow who, in his eagerness, had rushed in too close.
"Wow!" bellowed the stricken party, and somehow it seemed to Ralph that the voice was that of Tony Gilpin.
More than once he was himself the recipient of blows, some severe and others of a glancing nature. For a brief period of time there was a constant maelstrom of hands flying back and forth, accompanied with shouts, jeers and grunts.
"Oh, you cowards!" called Ralph, as a blow struck him on the back of the head, and almost stunned him for a second; one of the crowd, not daring to face the boy at bay, having crept alongside the tree to watch his chance.
He could easily believe that this was Asa Barnes. Immediately a mad desire possessed him to pounce upon that sneak and return the blow with interest. Despite the array of threatening fists that formed a half-circle in front, Ralph threw himself around to ​one side of the tree, eager to come in contact with the object of his especial contempt.
So speedy were his movements that the treacherous one could not get out of the way, nor was he anticipating such a bold act on the part of the boy who had been held up on the road.
Just as Ralph pounced vigorously upon him, he caught sight of a number of dark figures jumping into the fray. At the same instant new shouts arose, a volume of sound that made the welkin ring, and brought satisfaction to the heart of the one in peril.
He knew then that his call for assistance had been heard—that Frank and his football comrades had reached the spot, and were in the act of practicing their gridiron tactics upon the unfortunates who had fallen into the very trap they had themselves set.
"Help! help! fellows, take him off!" shrieked the one against whom the angry Ralph had collided; for both of them had gone down in a scrambling, kicking heap.
Fear caused the under dog to make frantic efforts to escape; and while Ralph was able to get a little satisfaction out of his attack, he found it utterly, impossible to hang on to the squirming figure, which, eluding his grasp, presently rolled over and over, bounded to his feet, and fled like the wind.
Meanwhile there was taking place a furious fight. The disguised crowd found itself outnumbered two ​to one, and while they struck back whenever possible, the one thought in their minds was escape.
"Cut it!" shouted the one who seemed to be a leader.
"Don't let them get away! Take 'em prisoners!" whooped a tall lad, who was doing his share of the mauling.
But that was easier said than done. The now sadly demoralized enemy scattered in every direction, some running wildly down the road, and others vanishing in the darkness of the wood.
"They're gone!" cried Lanky Wallace, in disgust, as he found that the fellow he had embraced was no other than his fat friend, Buster Billings.
"Let me go, hang it! You've squeezed the last breath out of me! I'd had that dub, only for your interference. Such rotten luck!" gasped the stout one, as he shook himself free from Lanky's encircling arms.
Frank was at the side of the boy they had rescued just in time.
"How is it, Ralph, did they pummel you hard?" he asked, solicitously.
"I gave 'em more than I took; but my head sings a bit from the nasty knock that sneak Asa Barnes gave me from behind!" replied the other.
"From behind!" echoed Lanky, indignantly; "well, wouldn't that jar you some now? But what ​else could you expect from that snake in the grass? He never fought fair in all his life. I hope you got one or two in back on him, Ralph."
"Didn't you hear him howl for help?" replied the other, quickly. "That was when I nailed him. I guess his head rings about as much as mine does. But, boys, you came just in time. I was in a tight box. And I'm ever so much obliged for the help."
"Don't mention it, old chap. We really needed the exercise, and the only thing I complain of is that it all happened too fast. Why, I don't believe I really got my windmill working freely when I was threshing the air. Zip! and they were gone," and Paul Bird laughed heartily at the hasty way in which the enemy had vanished.
"YouVe sure they didn't get you?" persisted Frank.
"I guess I'm all right," laughed the other, as he swung both arms back and forth, and bent his body to test his muscles; "you see, there wasn't time enough for them to do much damage. And they were all so mighty anxious to reach me they really interfered with each other."
"As we came up on the run, I thought I heard onefellow give a whoop of pain, as if he had run up against something. Was that your fault, Ralph?" demanded Lanky.
"Sure. And what's more, I expect it was Tony. ​If he shows a black eye to-morrow, give me credit for one goal kicked, boys," replied the party addressed.
Bones Shadduck was lighting a match.
"Hello! What's that for?" asked Jack Eastwick.
"I picked up a hat just now, and the idea struck me that possibly there might be some more headgear lying around. We'd like to know who these pirates are, you see, and here's a chance to get a line on 'em," explained the other, as he bent low to scan the ground in the immediate vicinity.
"Matches—who's got any? Pass 'em around, fellows!" called Buster.
Immediately there was quite an illumination around that part of the road, half a dozen tiny torches burning at once, as eager eyes scanned the ground. Twice cries of satisfaction announced that a find had rewarded the search, but the supply of matches gave out, and, besides, it seemed that there were no more hats or caps to be gathered in.
"Three times, and out, boys! Now we'll be able to learn who some of the crowd must have been. I think I ought to nail this gay old cap. Nobody but Bill Klemm ever dared wear such a screamer as that," announced Lanky, holding the object of his derision aloft.
"And this looks like the hat I turned over to Jay Tweedle the time I accidentally knocked his off in ​the river, and it sank. I know it is, fellows!" exclaimed Frank, who had been one of the lucky discoverers.
"Well, we're getting a line on the bunch, all right," laughed Jack.
"If only Ralph marked both Tony and Asa, and we've got the hats of three more, it looks good to me," chirped Lanky.
"Fall in, fellows!" called Bones Shadduck, assuming the air of a drum major, as he waved an imaginary baton in the air.
With considerable talking and laughter, the squad gathered around Ralph.
"Here, what's all this mean?" laughed Ralph. "Want to make me a high muckamuck, a grand sachem surrounded by his valiant bodyguard? I object. I'm only a common worm, like the rest of you, and not fit for these great honors. Take Frank there, and put him in the center of the bunch; he's the captain of the crew!"
"Worms! Flear him rant, fellows, will you? Compares us to the lowly angleworm of commerce. And this is the reward we get for sacrificing our sleep to rescue the perishing! I call it base ingratitude, that's what!" cried one.
"But just now you're the guest of honor. Ralph; the one bright particular star that has attracted the attention of all the meaner ones. Just hold your ​row, and let us run this funeral, will you?" declared Buster.
"Oh, well, have it your own way, fellows. You're a good lot, anyhow, to pull my chestnuts out of the fire for me," concluded the one upon whom all these attentions were being showered.
And so they marched through the streets singing one of their school songs. The good people of Columbia were quite accustomed to such "stunts" on the part of the students, especially when there was a day of sport close by. At such times the thriving town on the bank of the Harrapin was wont to assume all the airs of a college center, and enthusiasm run rampant.
So, while many heads were thrust from doorways or windows as the procession trailed along, no adverse comments arose. Many of those same men were old graduates themselves, and such patriotic songs only served to awaken the spirit that never could be wholly eradicated from their systems.
In such fashion was Ralph West conducted to his humble boarding place. And hearty were the "good nights" that accompanied the scattering of the band of defenders.
Frank and Lanky walked home together.
"That job's done, anyhow," remarked Frank, with evident satisfaction.
"And well done, too. Only one more night to ​consider, and the glee club has its regular meeting then. We must keep a close watch on Ralph. Those chumps mean to get him yet if they can. I only hope I have just one more whack at some of that bunch. I never hit a fellow with more vim in my life than to-night, when I came up against that chap with the handkerchief across his face."
"I heard him grunt," observed Frank, with a chuckle, "and really I felt sorry for him. I think you struck him with both fists together in the excitement. But it's a shame that Columbia fellows are fighting among themselves just now, when we ought to be united, and showing a common front against the enemy."
"Oh, these represent only a tail-end fragment. Don't count them as much. Outside of possibly a dozen students, I firmly believe the school is united, and that you possess the confidence of the whole town. This is our lucky year. I tell you we just can't lose," and Lanky emphasized his words with a smack of one hand in the palm of the other.
"I feel the same way," said Frank, "but, all the same, I'll be better satisfied when the game has been played. There's many a slip, you know. An accident might mar the finest play the gridiron ever knew. And then the treachery of these fellows always annoys me. An open foe I can meet boldly, ​but deliver me from the snake in the grass that steals up in the rear to upset your calculations."
"Never mind, it'll be all right, Frank; but here we are at your gate, so good night," and Lanky hurried on.