For a sophomore to find any excuse for getting out of a fight with a freshman would bring down upon the soph all the wrath and disgust of the disgraced third class.
"Come on, mucker! Take off your sweater and get ready to take your real medicine!" snarled Fred, harshly.
But Dick Prescott, young as he was, was much too wise to allow himself to be betrayed into anger.

Instead, he halted a few feet away, looking with a significant smile at his enemy.
"As I understand it," replied Prescott, "the festivities that are soon to commence are to decide which is the mucker---which will go down to the ground to eat his fill of dirt." Badger, Thompson and Butler took upon themselves the direction of the coming "affair." "See here, Ted, you look after Ripley's interests," proposed Badger.
"It's a mean job.

I'd sooner have the other side of the bet," grumbled Ted Butler, in an undertone.
"I'll look after young Prescott," continued Ben Badger.

"Thomp will do all the honors as referee." Ripley was already peeling off his sweater.
"Get down to your fighting rig, Prescott," urged Badger, leading his principal to one side.

"How are you, boy ?" he whispered, anxiously.