Part 6 (1/2)

”Don't you come near--” began Peter John, but the sentence was not completed. At some unseen signal a half-dozen sprang upon him. Before he could bring down the chair which he still was holding above his head he was suddenly seized by his adversaries, the chair was wrenched from his hands, he was thrown heavily to the floor, and in a moment his hands and feet were fast bound with cords, and he was a helpless prisoner. Still he did not cease his struggling, but as he twisted and writhed he only drew the cords more tightly and made his own helplessness more apparent.

”I know who you are!” he shrieked. ”I'll report you, every one! I'll give the whole list of your names to the president! I'll have you arrested! I'll put you in jail! You're a lot of thieves and low-down scoundrels! I'll have you put where you won't abuse anybody any more!”

Peter John's voice rose with every fresh threat until at last it almost broke in a sob. He was almost beside himself, and Will Phelps, though he shared in the anger of his cla.s.smate, was rejoiced that he was helpless and could not do what his desperation prompted.

”Tie your handkerchief over his mouth, Hines,” said Mott to one of his companions. ”We must hush the infant's wailings or he'll have the whole of Winthrop up here. He seems to have some language besides that of the ordinary 'infant crying in the night'.”

At Mott's direction Hines and two of his cla.s.smates at once securely bound a handkerchief about Peter John's face, a task that was not accomplished without a desperate struggle.

”Now then, since he seems to be quieted,” said Mott at last, when his bidding had been done, ”we'll turn to the other part of the program.

Here, you freshman,” he added, turning to Will Phelps as he spoke, ”step up here and take your seat beside your cla.s.smate.”

For an instant Will hesitated. The sight of Peter John roused every instinct of combativeness which he possessed, and that was by no means small, but a laugh from Hawley restored a measure of self-possession, and quietly and without a word he seated himself on the table by the side of his friend.

”Good! That's the way to do it! Now then, Hawley,” said Mott, ”you've got to get rid of that eternal grin of yours. Wipe that smile off your face and throw it out of the window.”

Hawley laughed aloud as he said, ”I've been trying to get rid of it for nineteen years, but I haven't succeeded yet. If you fellows will show me how to do it I'll be yours truly now and for evermore.”

Some of the soph.o.m.ores laughed, but Mott glared angrily at them as he said, ”Quit that!” Then turning again to Hawley he said, ”Oh, we'll help you all right enough. Just do as I tell you!”

”How shall I do it?”

”Take your handkerchief and wipe that smile off your face and throw it out of the window as I tell you.”

Hawley drew a huge handkerchief from his pocket with which he vigorously rubbed his face, and then going soberly to the window pretended to throw something out; but when he returned to his seat his laughter became uncontrollable and he broke forth into a loud guffaw, in which some of the a.s.sembly joined.

At Mott's rebuke the laughter ceased, and then he said again to Hawley, ”That won't do, freshman. You're not rid of it yet. Try it again!”

Six times the huge and good-natured freshman was compelled to repeat his senseless and silly performance, and then Mott declared that he was satisfied.

”Don't have a relapse,” he said warningly, and then, turning to Will Phelps, he said, ”Now I want my nice little boy, mamma's pet and papa's joy, to show what a good little boy he really is. He isn't going to do any of the naughty things that some of the wicked little college boys do. He is strong, he is, and he promised mamma he wouldn't, and he won't. Let's give him a song, fellows,” he added, turning to his cla.s.smates, and at once the boys began to sing:

”We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band, On the right side of temperance we always do stand; We don't use tobacco, for this we do think, That those who do use it most always do drink.”

Some of the singers had very musical voices and the simple little ditty sounded very clear and strong as they all joined in it. Will Phelps, however, was thinking of what it was that would be required of him. Then flashed into his mind the last conversation he had had with his mother and in which he had given her a promise not unlike that at which Mott had hinted. And he intended to keep it too, he a.s.sured himself. Come what might, he would not break it. He even smiled slightly as he thought of what his mother's feelings would be if she could look into Peter John's room and see what was then going on there.

As the song ceased abruptly Will said, ”What is it you want me to do, Mott?”

”Well, now, freshman, that's cool. You can't help being a freshman, but it's not well even for a freshman to be too fresh. Ever hear the like of that, fellows?” he inquired of his cla.s.smates.

”Never did. Never did,” responded several, shaking their heads soberly.

”Just think of it,” began Mott again. ”Here's a freshman who is so anxious to get into our good graces that he's not only willing to do what we tell him but he even comes and asks us what it is we want him to do. That beats anything old Winthrop has ever seen yet.”

Will's face flushed, but he was silent, though Hawley began to laugh again. ”Now, then, freshman,” said Mott, pointing his finger at Will, ”we want you to get down on the floor and wrestle with temptation.”

”There's nothing here that tempts me very much,” replied Will coolly, and Hawley promptly laughed aloud.

”You do as I tell you! Get down on the floor and wrestle with temptation,” demanded Mott sharply.

”I don't mind doing it if it will please you any,” responded Will as he slipped from his seat on the table to the floor.