Part 1 (2/2)

”This is some livelier than letter writing, Bill,” Gus declared, and a moment later Bill was of the same mind.

The boys gazed out of the window of their room in the school dormitory to witness an upper-cla.s.s reception of one of the freshmen, a lad of almost tender years, yet husky and of undoubted good nature. He was expensively dressed to begin with, a little foppish in appearance even, and it was known that his people were very wealthy. Such as he, then, could well afford the sacrifice demanded of him to become a member in high standing of the Marshallton student body. Whatever was done, short of actual physical injury, must contribute to the violently initiated youth's general glorification, at least this was the popular impression.

It occurred to but few to make serious objections to that which was customary in the school.

Hazing, long since taboo or forbidden in many educational inst.i.tutions, was still a part of Marshallton Tech, by reason of the belief that a high mentality and virile spirit demanded the extreme mental and physical show-down which hazing is wrongly supposed to bring out. Though severe enough, perhaps the initiations were not so terrible as to call for much complaint.

”By cracky, that's rotten!” exclaimed Gus, as he watched the progress of the affair.

”Worse than mean!” agreed Bill.

This comment was called forth as the victim, in his efforts to escape from his tormentors, had his coat and vest torn from him. In a little time his s.h.i.+rt was reduced to ribbons. A fine gold watch and its broken chain lay on the ground among the feet of the struggling boys, and an unsuspecting heel soon reduced the time-piece to little more value than the metal in the case. A wallet slid out of a pocket and disgorged from its folds considerable cash and paper, some of which the bystanders gathered up with much difficulty. The freshman's panama, kicked about in the dust, was not rescued until it resembled an uprooted weed.

”We wouldn't enjoy being treated that way,” commented Gus, the sentimental.

”We couldn't afford it,” amended Bill, the practical. ”That sort of thing may be well enough for rich fellows, though I think it's rank foolishness at any time. But, Gus, we've got to dodge it in some way.”

Gus made no reply. He was thinking that his chum was right, but, still interested in the excitement without, he left the usual whatever-it-must-be with Bill. When Bill spoke again, some few minutes after the well-hazed youth had made a get-away, Gus listened with interest.

”We can get the materials,” Bill finished, ”and it won't take long to do the work.”

And it did not. Having procured a permit from the professor of physics--and no one could have refused Bill with his convincing tongue--the boys returned well loaded to their room. They took from a paper packing box, whose contents had been hidden from the curious, a lot of wire, some switches, some acid and a number of storage battery cells.

On their way from the central building the chums had been stopped by a number of upper cla.s.smen. It was mid-afternoon, an optional study or playtime, and just the hour for brewing mischief. This is what happened.

”Come on there, Freeporters! Put down those boxes; we have a little business to transact with you,” the spokesman called.

Gus gazed calmly at the five militant youths in front of him. Without undue egotism, he possessed an easy confidence, and he knew that, barring some b.u.mps and scratches, that bunch would need a.s.sistance in hazing him. He would have complied forthwith, had not Bill given an ultimatum. With a small box under his left arm, he s.h.i.+fted his crutch to his left fingers and slipped the free hand into his pocket, drawing forth about the wickedest-looking pistol that any thug would use. The five began backing away, the spokesman turning quite pale and the others, no doubt, feeling much as he looked.

”Would you Indians want to haze me?” Bill asked.

”Aw, no. You're exempt, of course. We don't bother with cripples, kids, old ladies nor natural criminals.” This attempt to be witty trailed off weakly.

”Well, my friend here is carrying gla.s.s and we can't tarry now. Any interference with him will result in my turning criminal instanter, and I'm keen to do so. Go on, Gus.”

Gus went on, and Bill, with weapon still in hand, followed after. He turned to call back to the flabbergasted five:

”You can find us in our room any time after to-day. Getting hazed is really great sport, and we won't pull any guns on you then!”

Hardly half an hour elapsed before there came a knock at the door of the room occupied by Bill and Gus. A moment before, Gus had been down to get a pair of pliers that had dropped out of the window and two wide-eyed lads in the hallway had hailed him:

”That crutch-thumper that rooms with you is in for the G. B.,” one had said and the other had added:

”Say, he must be a blamed fool to carry a gun and pull it here. 'Prex'

won't stand for that.”

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