CHAPTER IV
THE HAZING
"What sort of hazing do they do?" asked Tom Parsons of Sid Henderson asthe two youths followed their companions from the gymnasium.
"Oh, all sorts. It's hard to tell. Mostly they come in your room and makea rough house, but not too rough, for the proctor doesn't stand for it.They'll tumble you about, tear down any ornaments you may have up, pour apitcher of water in the bed, and make things unpleasant generally."
"Are we supposed to stand for that?" There was a grim look settling onTom's face.
"Well, what can you do when three or four big sophs are holding you?"
"Not much, that's a fact. But I'm going to fight back."
"So am I, but that's all the good it'll do. If they don't put enough onyou in your room they'll tackle you outside, when you're alone, andmaybe chuck you into the river or lake, or make you walk Spanish, orforce you to parade through town doing the wheelbarrow act. Oh, you'vegot to take some hazing in one form or another."
"Well, I don't mind getting my share. So they're coming to-night, eh?"
"So the twin said."
"The twin--who's he?"
"The little fellow that brought word. I don't know whether he was Jerryor Joe Jackson. I didn't look closely enough to see."
"Why, is it hard to tell?"
"Sure. They're two brothers, Jerry and Joe. They come from some town inNew Jersey. We call them the 'Jersey Twins,' and they look so much alikeit's hard to tell them apart. The only way you can tell is when they'replaying ball."
"How then?"
"Why, Jerry plays right field, and Joe left. Then it's easy to say whichis which; but when they come to bat it always happens that some one onthe other team makes a kick. They think we're ringing in the same mantwice, and we have to explain. That's what I've heard. Of course, I'veonly been here a week."
"Oh, then they've played here some time?"
"Yes; they're juniors. It was mighty white of Jerry or Joe, whichever itwas, to tip us off. Now we'll be ready for the sophs."
"What can you do?"
"Well, if you know in time, as we do now, we can take down the bestthings in our room, so they won't get busted, and we can hide the bedclothes, so they won't get soaked. Then we can put on our old clothes.It's no fun to have a good suit ruined, especially when you don't findnew clothes growing on trees."
"That's right. Let's go to our room and make ready."
"Oh, we've got plenty of time. I fancy it won't be until after dark. Theonly thing is for all of us freshmen to keep together if we go out. Forif they catch two or three of us alone they'll put it all over us. But Iguess there won't be any scrub game now. The sophs would break it up."
"When do we have any rest from them?"
"In about two weeks. After the pole rush."
"The pole rush?"
"Yes. It's an old college custom, as Fenton's uncle would say. Wefreshmen form a ring about the big flag-pole on a certain night and thesophs try to pull us away. If they make us leave inside of fifteenminutes it means we can't wear the class college colors until next term.If we win, why, we sport a hat like Fenton had--the one Morse andDenfield slashed up."
"I see. But, say, I'd like to know more about the ball team. DoesLangridge run it all?"
The two lads by this time were in their room, where they proceeded tohide under the beds and bureaus their choicest possessions against theprospective raid. It was close to the supper hour and they did not havemuch time.
"No, Langridge doesn't run everything," answered Sid. "He's manager,that's all."
"That seems a lot."
"Well, it is in a way, though it's only because he has plenty of cashand isn't afraid to spend it. But he couldn't be elected captain. Hetried, but was defeated his first term, though he made the managership."
"Who is captain?"
"Bricktop Molloy was last year, but this season we're going to have anew one. I guess Dan Woodhouse stands as good a show as any one. He's asenior and a fine player."
"Woodhouse--that's an odd name."
"Yes, we call him Kindlings for short. I'm going to vote for him."
"So will I then; I'll depend on your say-so."
"I fancy you threw a scare into Langridge," went on Sid as he carefullyslid under a mat at the edge of the bed a picture of a football game.
"How so?"
"Telling him you wanted to try for pitcher. It was like stepping on hiscorns. He thinks he's got a cinch on that position. Always has eversince he helped win a game last year."
"Has he?"
"Well, I don't know. It depends on who is captain. Langridge wants tosee Ed Kerr elected captain. If that happens, he and Ed will run thingsto suit themselves. Ed's quite a chum of Langridge, though Ed's a betterfellow all around. The only reason some of the fellows won't vote for Edis that he's too thick with Langridge. But if old Kindlings is electedhe'll not take any orders from Langridge."
"Langridge doesn't seem to be very popular with you," observed Tom.
"He isn't. I don't like him. Yet he's all right in a way. You see, he'spretty well off in his own right. His father died, leaving him quite asum, and when his mother died he got more. His uncle is his guardian,but he doesn't look after Fred very closely, and Fred does pretty muchas he pleases. Now that isn't good for a lad, though I don't mindadmitting I wish I had plenty of money. But Langridge is something of asport. He has good clothes--better than most of us here--he has all hewants to spend, and he's liberal with it. He has quite a following andlots of fellows like him. He doesn't care what he does with his money,and that's the whole thing in a nutshell. That's why he's manager andfor no other reason. But, as I said, Woodhouse won't stand for any ofhis dictation."
"Maybe I'll get a chance then," mused Tom.
"I guess you will. I'd like to see another good pitcher on the nine.Maybe we'd win more games if we had a good one."
"I don't know whether I'm a good one or not," answered Tom. "I want totry, though. Back home they used to say I had a good delivery."
Sid did not answer at once. He was thinking that to pitch on a countrynine was vastly different from doing the same thing on a good-sizedcollege team. But he did not want to discourage his roommate.
"Well," he said after a pause, in which he surveyed the somewhatdismantled room, "I don't know whether it's pitching, or catching, orfielding, or what it is our team needs, but it's something. We're at thebottom of the league and have been for some years."
"What league is that?"
"Oh, I forgot you didn't know. Well, it's the Tonoka Lake League. Yousee, our college, Boxer Hall and Fairview Institute have a triangularleague for the championship. But we haven't won it in so long that thememory of man runneth not to the contrary, as the legal documents haveit. Last year we had a good chance to be second, but Langridge got aglass arm in the final game and we were dumped. That's why I say we needa new pitcher, and I'm glad you're going to try for it."
"Maybe I'll do worse."
"Well, Langridge sure does deliver a good ball," said Sid slowly; "theonly trouble is that he----"
He stopped suddenly and seemed embarrassed.
"Well?" asked Tom questioningly.
"Maybe you'll find it out for yourself," concluded Sid Henderson."There's the supper gong. Come on. There'll be hot work after a bit."
Puzzling somewhat over the answer his chum had made to the questionregarding Langridge and wondering what it was he might find out forhimself, Tom followed Sid to the dining hall, where throngs of studentswere already gathered.
There was something in the air that told of mischief to come. Thesophomores, who dined together, maintained a very grave and decorousair, utterly out of keeping with their usual mood. There was silenceinstead of talk and laughter at their table.
"They're almost as dignified as the seniors," remarked Phil Clinton toTom as he took a seat next to him. "It means trouble. Look out."
"Oh, we're looking out," replied Tom.
Few lingered over th
e meal, and, going back to their room, Sid and Tomtook their best clothes and hid them in a closet at the end of the longcorridor. It was a closet used for the storage of odds and ends.
"There, I don't believe they'll find them there," spoke Sid. "Now we'reready for them."
On their way back to their apartment they heard some one preceding themdown the long hall.
"Who's that?" asked Sid.
"I don't know," replied Tom. "Let's take a look. Maybe it was some onespying on us."
They hastened their steps and saw some one hurry around a corner.
"Did you see him?" asked Tom.
"Yes," answered Sid slowly.
"Was it a soph?"
"It was Langridge," came the hesitating answer.
"I wonder what he was doing up here?" inquired Tom.
"I wonder too," added his chum.
There was a rush of feet in the hall below and the sound of voices inprotest.
"Here they come!" cried Sid. "The hazers! Come on!" And he slid into theroom, followed by Tom. They slammed the portal shut and bolted it.
The noise below increased, and there was the sound of breaking doors.
"Do they smash in?" asked Tom, to whom a college life was a newexperience.
"Sure, if you don't open."
"Going to open?"
"I am not. Let 'em break in. They'll have to pay for the damage."
In spite of lively scenes on the floor below, the noise was kept withina certain range. Neither the freshmen nor the sophomores desired to havetheir pranks interrupted by the college authorities, which would be sureto be the case if the fun grew too hilarious.
The noise seemed to be approaching the room of Sid and Tom.
"Here they come," whispered the country youth.
Sid nodded and there was a grim smile on his face. An instant later thedoor was tried.
"The beggars have locked it!" some one exclaimed.
"Break it in!" another added.
"Ask 'em to open first," counseled a third. "We've smashed so many nowthat we'll have a pretty bill to pay."
"Oh, blazes, give it your shoulder, Battersby," exclaimed a loud voice.
"Going to open, fresh?" called out a student on the other side of theportal.
"Nope!" cried Sid.
There was a moment's pause and then some one hurled himself at the door.The bolt held for a few seconds, but on a second rush there was asplintering of wood, the screws pulled out and the portal flew open,giving admittance to a crowd of sophomores.