There was working in him a conviction that he was now, even now, reaching the very climax of his adventure.

Very certainly, very surely, the moment was thawing near, and even in the instant when he had, that very evening, left his rooms, he had stepped, he instinctively knew, out of one stage into another.
"Where are we going ?" he asked Lawrence.
"Common.

There's goin' to be an old fire.

Hope there's a row--don't mind who I hit." The side streets that led to the Common made progress more difficult, and, with the increased difficulty, came also a more riotous spirit.
Some one started "The Two Obadiahs," and it was lustily sung with a good deal of repetition; several people had wooden rattles, intended to encourage College boats during the races, but very useful just now.
There were, at the point where the street plunges into the Common, some wooden turnstiles, and these of course were immensely in the way and men were flung about and there was a good deal of coarse pleasantry, and one mild freshman, who had been caught into the crowd by accident, was thrown on to the ground and very nearly trodden to death.
The sight of the vast and mysterious Common put every one into the best of spirits.

There was room here to do anything, and it was also dark enough and wide enough to escape if escape were advisable.