Matthew M. Colton

The meal was finally over. There was nothing of the home quiet in it at all. The Codfish well described it as "grab and guzzle and git."

Outside the early dusk had come and the lights of the dormitories twinkled out here and there to meet the moon which had just pushed her disk above the cloudless eastern horizon. The katydids kept up their ceaseless argument in the great elms overhead as Frank and Jimmy walked slowly arm in arm down the yard. Lewis had dashed off to his room to do some long over-due work on a recitation for the early morning hour.

From the other side of the yard came the sound of singing.

"That's the Glee Club tuning up," said Jimmy. "They sing out of doors until it gets too cold to be comfortable."

The song floated over to them beneath the dusky arbor of the elm trees:

Queen's School Days.

---

Come all you jolly Queen's boys

And harken to our song,

We'll tell you all our school joys,

We'll laugh both loud and long—

Chorus.

For we'll sing ha, ha,

And we'll yell RAH, RAH,

In a merry, merry roundelay.

A laugh and a smile,

We have them all the while

In our happy, happy Queen's school days.

When first I came to Queen's School,

Way back in sixty-eight,

O, wasn't I the green fool

In all this wide estate!

I was a verdant youngster,

As green as green as grass,

They stuffed my head with knowledge

All in the Freshman class.

A year went by so swiftly

On happy wings did soar,

And then the masters made me

A jolly Sophomore.

And next a learned Junior

My fate it came to be,

The Profs. they set me climbing

Straight up the Wisdom Tree.

And then at last a Senior

With dignity complete,

The Freshmen, Sophs. and Juniors

All kneeling at my feet.

But now the fun is over;

We draw a deep, deep sigh,

Farewell to life in clover,

Good-by old Queens, Good-by.

The boys came to a halt as they listened to the rollicking melody borne to their ears on the evening breeze. To Frank came the exquisite feeling of being a part of the school, and the song thrilled him out of all relation to its value as music.

"Great, isn't it?" and he looked up at the dark, gently swaying branches overhead and let his eye follow the long line of school buildings. "I was wondering only a little while ago," he said, "if it wouldn't be the best thing for me to go to work somewhere and give up school and college."

"Changed your mind about it so soon?"

"Yes, I guess I have. It's fine to be a part of a school like Queen's, and to meet all the fellows, and fight your little battles, and maybe win a few. I don't think I'll ever amount to much here, but I'm going to have a try at everything that comes my way."

"What did your father and mother say about your going to work?"

"O, mother didn't think much of it, but Dad, as usual, put it up to me. 'It's your own life, you know, and you've got to live it. If you want to go into business life now, I'll find you a good place to start, and if you want to take a few extra years broadening your education, there's Queen's ready to take you if you're ready for her.' And I'm glad I decided this way. It's going to be wonderful." He had forgotten the meeting with Dixon that afternoon, and the unhappy incident at his appearance on the scene. The black shadow of Gamma Tau which had fallen across his path did not trouble him.

Frank and Jimmy had traversed the length of the school walk down to the great iron gates at the Milton turnpike, and were returning up the yard. The group on the steps of Russell were still singing and were engaged at that particular moment with the closing chords of a popular tune. Then they broke out in a joyful and triumphant pean, the new football song, written by Arthur Stubbs, Jimmy informed Frank, "editor of the Mirror, which maybe you don't know is the great and buzzing school weekly. Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"

They both listened as the song rolled out on the night air, doggerel sure enough, but given life and character by the vigorous way it was flung out:

"The last line is to be shouted in unison," explained Jimmy, "and it will make a great noise when the whole school gets into it."

The air was catchy, and Frank found himself humming as he walked along:

"If I can't do anything else, Jimmy, I can help the team by singing."

"Well, I'm thinking that singing won't save this Queen's School football bunch when we meet Warwick."

"Is Warwick strong this year? I saw they had cleaned up Dean without much trouble, but haven't noticed much about them."

"Strong!" ejaculated Jimmy, "I guess they are. They've taken everyone they've played into camp this fall, and they boast that Queen's scalp will dangle at their belts as the last and the best of the series. Like the fellow in Danny Deever, 'I'm dreading wot I got to watch' two weeks from Saturday—that's the date of the bloody battle down there on the gridiron," and Jimmy jerked his thumb in the direction of the meadow.

In their promenade the boys had almost reached the second entry in Warren Hall when they noticed a group of perhaps half a dozen fellows, a short distance up the walk. As Frank and Jimmy came up to the entry this group got in motion and approached them, and as they passed, one of the group jostled Frank off the walk. "Keep out of the way, Freshmen," said a gruff voice, but in spite of the attempt to disguise it, both boys recognized it instantly.

"Chip Dixon," they exclaimed in a breath.

"Now what is he hanging around here for with that bunch of his cronies, I'd like to know," said Jimmy. "I wonder if he has a notion of hazing you. By Jove, I'll bet you a dollar that's it. They were waiting for you to grab you, but seeing me here they probably gave it up for the time at least. Let's walk on."

"Why would they give it up? You talk like a Senior, and if I haven't been sleeping like old Rip Van, you're nothing more than a Freshman yourself. My head isn't as hoary as yours by three weeks, that's all."

"O, no, I've been through the mill and they never haze a fellow twice. They gave me a jolly roast though, and that let's me out for the rest of my natural school life."

"What did they do to you?" inquired Frank, who had heard of such doings on the persons of unsuspecting and confiding youth. "I supposed that hazing had been stopped here completely. The Milton Gazette said that Doctor Hobart had ordered it stopped after they ducked that fellow in the river one night and he got his death from it."

"Yes; Dr. Hobart stopped hazing, and threatened to fire anyone he caught at it, but while that has stopped some of the worst of it maybe, it isn't dead by a long shot. They didn't do much to me, tied my hands and feet and rolled me down the hill over there, and gave me an egg shampoo and mussed me up considerable, but I came out of it all right. Dixon was in the gang that did for me, I think, but I'm not sure, because they were masked."

"Well, they're not going to haze me," said Frank, "if I see them first."

"Interference with your personal liberty resented, eh?"

"Yes, maybe. I wouldn't mind anybody but Dixon, and I certainly will not have such a galoot as he is mauling me around, if I have to fight the whole gang."

"Better not fight, Frank. Better take it good naturedly, and it will be over quick. If you resent, you're likely to get it harder."

"Well, if they really are out to haze me there's no help for it, but I'll have some fun, too," and he stretched out his arm and flexed his muscles. "Haven't been paddling canoes around the Florida Everglades for nothing, Jimmy."

Jimmy grinned. "Better come up to my room just the same; no use courting a ruction. If they are after you, they may come around and not finding you in, may give it up and forget about it. Come on."

"Hanged if I do," said Frank. "I don't believe there's anything to it. You, having had your medicine, are suspicious. If they want me they will find me."

By this time the two had retraced their steps to Frank's entry. All was quiet. The singers had ended their melodious efforts and moved off. Only now and then a single figure could be seen hurrying along under the tree arches. The moon, rising higher in the sky, sent her beams through the branches, and brought out every object in the yard distinctly. No plotters against the peace of No. 18 were to be seen anywhere.

"False alarm, old man," said Frank, as they stood there scanning the school yard. "All is quiet on the Potomac. So long, see you in the morning. Gleason must be visiting, for there's no light in the room."

"Maybe you're right, but, just the same, turn the key when you go into your room. So long, see you in the morning."

"So long," echoed Frank, and turned and entered the arching doorway.

Frank climbed the steps of the first flight three at a leap. He wasn't afraid of Dixon and his gang even if they were on the warpath. "It's great to be back at school," he thought, and as he took the last few steps leading to the second landing, he hummed to himself the lines he had heard the fellows singing:

"What's the matter with this stairway,—no light; they must be stingy with their gas," said Frank aloud. "Since Gleason isn't back yet, I'll have a session with these duds of mine and get my room to rights. To-morrow I'll start on this sitting-room ruin. Where did I put those blooming matches?" he added to himself as he opened his room door and stepped inside. "O, yes, I remember, on the corner of the mantel," and he headed for that point in the darkness of the room. He stumbled over a chair which didn't seem to be where it ought to be, certainly it wasn't there when he went out, but he reached the mantel and began to fumble for the box which he distinctly remembered was there.

"There's Gleason's stein," he said half aloud, as his hand touched a gigantic creation with a pewter top that he had noticed that afternoon, "and there's the alarm clock. I'm getting hotter. The matches were near the clock, I remember now."

Frank stood still and stretched his arm out trying to find the end of the shelf. His fingers touched something which made him thrill and recoil. But in spite of his quickness he felt something grasp his wrist sharply. He tried to draw away, but the hand, for such it was, tightened its grip and another came to the assistance of the first. Instantly there was the shuffling of feet, and with a rush he was surrounded. He felt many hands laid upon him roughly and insistently.

Frank fought desperately, hitting, kicking and trying with all his strength to wrench himself free. By twisting his arm sharply he managed for a moment, to break the hold that someone had on him, and shot his fist sharply out into the darkness with all his force. It found a soft mark somewhere on someone's face, and hurt, too, as a grunt attested. But he was grasped still more firmly and had no more chance to fight.

In the scuffle in the dark which followed, chairs were knocked over, the table was bumped into, and Gleason's gorgeous shade fell with a crash to the table, and then trickled off to the floor in many pieces. But Frank's struggles were useless, for he was borne backwards to the floor and pressed down by superior weight. Finally he lay on the floor with his hands pinioned to his sides, and a weight of bodies across his legs. Not a word had been spoken in the struggle, but now a voice whispered: "Strike a match, some of you. This Indian hit me on the nose and I'm bleeding like a stuck pig. And that won't make it any easier for him," the voice added, vindictively.

There was a scratching sound and a light flared up. Frank looked up from the floor to see himself surrounded by half a dozen fellows masked and completely disguised. Coats were turned inside out, collars up and caps reversed, the better to conceal their identity. The mask itself covered the face from the middle of the forehead to the upper lip, and, simple though it was, made recognition almost impossible, particularly in the dim light from the low turned gas jet which the conspirators had set going.

Frank had been neatly trapped, and was helpless as a baby before the superior numbers. He was presently more helpless, for his hands were lashed behind him with a stout leather strap.