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"You'll have to come back," said Channing, in a matter-of-fact way, which made it all the more irritating. "Here! I said, 'come back.'"
Young might have done it ordinarily, but he had promised Lee to come to his room at ten o'clock and he was accustomed to keep his word; he did not even look around.
Channing, catching up with him, laid a hand on his arm, and said, sneeringly, "Come back, or it'll be worse for you," and called Young a name that he should have known better than to call anyone unless willing to fight in consequence.
For answer Young turned promptly about, grabbed the little Soph.o.m.ore by the shoulders, then taking both wrists in one of his strong hands and shaking the other fist in his face, said, "You little reptile, you're too small for me to hurt, but I'll give you what I wanted to give you since I first laid eyes on you."
With that he quietly picked up the small Soph.o.m.ore, turned him over his left knee and gave him a good sound spanking with his big right hand.
"There," he said, holding Channing upon his knee a moment. "That's what I think of you. Now run and tell everybody." And he gave him a gentle push which was not as gentle as he meant it to be.
Channing got up from the floor hastily, looked about, saw that no one was near, and then sneaked around the corner in a hurry toward the stairs. He hadn't said another word. As he drew near his friends he slackened up and began to whistle carelessly. "Couldn't find him," he said, "the old cow must have heard me coming, and scooted into some room." Inwardly he was thanking his stars he had not been seen.
But he had been seen. The door of one of the rooms along the hall had been ajar; two upper-cla.s.smen within had just put out their lights to go to bed, the whole scene had been enjoyed, and before Channing was many days older the whole college was to know the story.
Meanwhile Young had gone on to Lee's room, where he said nothing about what had happened. The room was full of Freshmen and when the door opened they were talking at a great rate about football in loud voices; but as soon as they saw it was not a Soph.o.m.ore they began to talk in low tones about the procs again.
Lee said, "I don't know whether you know all these fellows," and began to introduce him in an informal way.
"Oh, yes, I know Young," said one of them. It was the football man who had been next to him in the rush. Others said, "I know your face--how are you, Young?" Some only nodded and then seemed to ignore him.
He felt a little constraint at first; some of these were prominent members of the cla.s.s, and he felt that they had a poor opinion of him, but presently they all fell to talking about their plans so earnestly--and included Young in their glances occasionally--that soon he too began to get excited like the rest of them. He felt the thrill of a conspirator.
But they did not talk much longer, for Lee said: "Young and I are going to bed. You fellows had better sneak off and get some sleep too." He had already begun to undress. "You are to sleep here, Young," he added; "my room-mate has gone to Trenton to start out early from there."
The others were leaving--not all at once, for that would excite suspicion if any Soph.o.m.ores might be pa.s.sing by. They left in ones and twos.
"Good-night, Lucky, we'll see you later, good-night." Some of them remembered to say good-night to Young, too. "Good-night, old man," said one of them, a jolly fat fellow.
Young did not sleep very much, but Lucky was quite worn out and dropped off immediately, and then sprang half out of bed when the m.u.f.fled alarm clock went off under his pillow. It was four o'clock. They were to meet the others at a spot on the Theological Seminary grounds at 4.30. From there they were to work their way down toward Trenton on the old stagecoach highway and meet Stevens (Lee's room-mate) and the others coming up.
It did not take long to slip out of the room and into the silent corridor. The lights were all out. It was dead dark.
"Take hold of my arm," said Lee, "I know these corridors as well as our own house at home."
Their footsteps seemed to echo and re-echo as they went down the three flights of stairs.
The big clock in the hall ticking loudly showed thirteen minutes after four. "We have plenty of time," whispered Young, as Lee opened the front door.
The outside air was cold and damp; Young s.h.i.+vered as it struck his face.
He was glad he had put on his blue flannel s.h.i.+rt, the one he used to plough corn in. It was black outside except for a symptom of dawn in the East, which made the darkness even more ghastly. Someone was walking somewhere. They could hear the footsteps on the pavement.
They reached the corner.
"What's that?" said Young.
"Where?" exclaimed Lee, in a whisper. He was one of the pluckiest men in the cla.s.s, yet he jumped back a little.
"There," said Young, "on that tree-box. It's a proc."
"By George, you're right--the sneaks! They must have begun early."
It was too dark to make out anything but the first three lines in big letters:
"ATTENTION!
YE FOUL AND FOOLISH FREAKS OF FRESHMEN!"
"It hasn't been up long," said Young. "The paste is still wet." He began to tear it down.
"They must be near here," whispered Lee. "We'd better first go and meet----"
"Sist! who's that?" said a low voice in the darkness.
The two Freshmen stood motionless.
The voice now whispered, "Ninety-blank this way." It sounded friendly, but the thing for Young and Lee to do was not to wait to see whether it was friend or foe but turn, and run in opposite directions and then bring up afterward at their appointed meeting-place where the others were. That indeed was Lee's impulse, but, "Wait, it's one of our fellows," said Young, innocently, and just then several figures darted in at them and before Young or Lee could do anything more they were surrounded on all sides, seized by the arms and held tight.
"No use sc.r.a.pping, fellows," said one of them in Young's ear, triumphantly. "We've got you, we've got you."
Just then the first figure walked close up to Young, turned the slide of a detective's dark-lantern, and remarked, calmly, as the dazzling light shone on Young's blinking eyes: "Yes, this is the old Deacon; well, well, that's good! that's good!"
It wasn't necessary to see the face. Young recognized the disagreeable, sneering voice.
CHAPTER VII
THE LAST HAZING OF "THE MEEK b.u.t.t OF ALL CLa.s.sES"
It was all Young's fault that his little friend Lee was, like himself, in the embarra.s.sing embrace of these Soph.o.m.ores, and he knew it; and that worried him more than anything they might do to himself. This was a fine way to repay Lee for his kindness!
Channing was still sticking the lantern up close to Young's blinking eyes, and saying, mockingly, "Well, well, you poor old fool of a Deacon!
you poor old pathetic fool."
If Young could only jerk himself free he thought he could s.n.a.t.c.h Lee away from the two Soph.o.m.ores holding him and then in the darkness they could surely escape. There was everything to gain and nothing to lose in the attempt.
"Now," said Channing, "let's see who the other foolish Freshman is."
Then through Young's mind there darted the thought: "Now's the time!
Their attention is diverted." The dazzling light had been taken off his eyes. At the same instant, and as quick as the flash of the lantern, he neatly whisked his arms out of the hands that held them, sprang backward, throwing, as he did so, the two startled Soph.o.m.ores forward by the shoulders, and wheeled around toward Lee.
Now little Lee, you may be sure, was watching for a chance to make a dash for liberty. Hearing the scuffle of feet in front of him he tried a similar trick. But his captors also had heard the scuffle; instinctively they tightened their grasps. Lee shook off but one of them, whirled around, and started off; the smaller of the two Soph.o.m.ores was hanging like a bull-dog to his left arm.
Young, half-blinded in the change to darkness from dazzling light, b.u.mped into Lucky, hurriedly grabbed him by the free hand and away they dashed. It was not quite two seconds from when Young made his first jump to the time he was going down Na.s.sau Street and making good speed considering that he was pulling Lee by the left hand, who in turn dragged unwillingly with the other hand the Soph.o.m.ore whose knees were sc.r.a.ping the flagstones.
Of course, by this time the other Soph.o.m.ores were after them--were now only a few yards behind and were gaining at every stride.