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Ned, Bob and Jerry at Boxwood Hall, or, The Motor Boys as Freshman

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<h2>CHAPTER XV CAUGHT</h2> Ned, Bob and Jerry were each good swimmers, and instinctively they held their breath as they fell into the water and struck out—but for where they knew not, for all about them was still as black as night, and even the phosphorous glow had vanished. “Cæsar’s aunt!” spluttered Bob, when he could get his head above water. “What happened?” “It’s part of the initiation,” said Jerry. “Say, but this water’s cold!” came from Ned shiveringly. “Silence!” was shouted, and with the word the lights flashed up and the boys found themselves in a tank, from which the water was rapidly running, as they could see by the lowering level. They looked about them. Standing up on the edge of the tank stood a figure in pure white, with head and body covered with a long cloak. “Come up from the tank and put on these,” the figure said, indicating some dry underwear,[125] towels and other robes on chairs at the edge of the tank. The lights went out for an instant, and when they went up again there was no one in the room but the three chums, and the tank was almost empty. They were standing on the bottom of it. They saw some steps which led up out of the tank, and going up these they changed to dry garments. Once more the lights went out, and when they glowed again there stood a figure in red. “Ye are to be blindfolded, candidates,” came in deep tones, “and now for the test by blood. Ye have well withstood the test by water. That by fire is yet to come.” Ned, Bob and Jerry allowed themselves to be blindfolded and were once more led forward. They could tell that lights were glowing in the room now, for faint gleams came under the blinding cloths. And there were subdued whisperings, denoting that there were many in the apartment. “Hold out your right arms,” came the command. The boys obeyed. They could feel their sleeves being pulled up, and a moment later there was a sharp pain. They could feel that their skin had been pricked, though only enough to permit a drop of blood to flow. “Ouch!” cried Bob involuntarily. “Silence!” came the command. “And for that you must be punctured again.” [126] This time Bob grimly tightened his lips and said nothing. The initiates suddenly felt a sensation as though a sharp knife had been drawn across their arms, and a voice said: “Hold a basin. They are flowing well.” The three chums might have imagined that they really had been cut, but they knew something of initiations, and they realized that a piece of ice drawn over the skin may feel like a knife, while water dripping into a basin has the same sound as blood. So they were not at all alarmed. “They are standing the blood-test well,” said a solemn voice. “And now for the test by fire.” “That may not be so nice,” mused Jerry. “I hope they don’t scorch us too much.” Blindfolded they were led onward. They could feel an increase of temperature, and they heard the roaring of flames. “Are the irons hot, Keeper of the Sacred Fire?” a voice asked. “They are, Most Noble President.” “’Tis well. Seal the candidates that we may always know them!” For an instant Bob, Ned and Jerry shrank back as they felt hot irons brought near their faces. There was a tingling sensation, and then a burning and itching. Jerry knew what had happened. A warm iron had been brought near them that[127] they might feel the heat. Then they were touched with a piece of ice, and some cow-itch rubbed on them. Cow-itch is a powder which stings like nettles, and is painful while it lasts. The more one rubs it the worse it burns. “Keep your hands away from it,” advised Jerry in a low voice to his chums. “Silence!” came the command. There was a pause, and then a voice went on: “They have been tested by fire, by water and by blood. So far all is well. Now for the merriment!” Before the three candidates could move they were seized and their hands bound behind them. “Run the course!” came the command, and they were pushed forward. The chums started off. “Faster! Faster! Run, don’t crawl!” was shouted at them, and run they did. All sorts of things happened to them. They fell down, and got up. They stumbled and were buffeted on all sides. Nor were the blows gentle, some in fact being staggering ones. That the buffetings were too rough was evidenced when one of the unseen initiators called out sharply: “Here, cut some of that out! We don’t want to lame ’em.” “I’ll do as I please!” was the retort, and Jerry was sure the last speaker was Frank Watson. [128] “He’s taking advantage of us now and making his blows as hard as possible,” thought Jerry, “but we won’t squeal.” Nor did he, while Bob and Ned also bore it all bravely. The initiation, while rough, was not unduly so for a secret society, and the three chums had been through worse experiences. Finally, after they had rolled down some sort of inclined way plentifully sprinkled with bumps, and had been tossed up in a blanket, they were led together to some spot, and a voice said: “’Tis well! Are ye now ready to subscribe to the sacred rolls, and swear forever to hold inviolate the secret of our noble order of Bang-Ups? Answer!” “We are!” chorused Ned, Bob and Jerry. “’Tis well. Loose their bonds and let them sign the sacred scrolls in their own blood.” The bonds were loosed, the cloths taken from their eyes, and the three candidates found themselves in a big, brilliantly lighted room, while about them stood their laughing fellow students. That is, all were smiling save Frank Watson, Bart Haley and Bill Hamilton, and they looked sneeringly at our heroes. “Take the oath and sign in blood,” went on Harry French, a senior, who was the president of the society. [129] A drastic oath was administered, and then pens were handed the three chums, first having been dipped in some red fluid, whether blood or not was not certain. Probably it was not. “Well, how did you like it?” asked George Fitch, grinning as he came up to shake hands with the initiates. “Oh, it might have been worse,” said Jerry, philosophically. “That ducking surprised me,” admitted Bob. “It generally does,” chuckled the president. “But get on your clothes, and we’ll have a little feed.” A jolly time followed; jolly to Jerry and his chums from the fact that Frank and his two particular cronies went away. Afterward our heroes learned that the initiation had been made unusually severe, especially the pummeling to which they were subjected by Frank, Bart and Bill. “Oh, well, we stood it, so what’s the use of kicking?” remarked Jerry resignedly. Now full-fledged members of the Bang-Ups, a name which was well in keeping with the initiatory process, Bob and his companions found that they had many more friends, and they began to enjoy life more fully at Boxwood Hall. The football season was now in full swing, and several games had been played. Our friends attended, and “rooted” to the best of their ability. [130] On many occasions they invited their new friends to go out in their automobile or in the motor boat, occasionally taking Professor Snodgrass, who still kept up a search for bugs, though butterflies had vanished until the spring. “Do you know what I think we ought to do?” said Bob one day, as he stretched out on a couch in Jerry’s room. “I can pretty near guess,” ventured Ned, who was helping Jerry hang up a set of boxing gloves in artistic fashion, over a pair of crossed foils. “Hasn’t it something to do with eats, Bob?” “Yes, but not for me alone, so don’t get fresh. But lots of the other fellows have feeds in their rooms, even if it is against the rules, so I don’t see why we can’t.” “There’s no good reason,” admitted Jerry. “What are rules against eats for if not to be broken? I’m in with you, Bob.” “So am I,” agreed Ned. “We could have a swell feed here, as we can use the three rooms as one.” “Then let’s do it,” Jerry said. “We’ll leave it to Bob to buy the grub, and we’ll all chip in. Go as far as you like, Chunky.” “And we’ll ask some of the crowd in,” added Ned. “Sure,” assented Jerry. Now midnight lunches, or any other sort, in[131] the students’ rooms were strictly prohibited at Boxwood Hall, which made it all the more joyful to elude “Thorny,” the proctor, and the other college officials, and have them. Bob smuggled in the eatables, and the invitations were given, and one evening several forms might have been observed quietly making their way to Borton, and up to the rooms of Bob, Ned and Jerry. There is no need to describe what took place. If a boy has never taken part in one he has imagined them. There were sandwiches galore, pies, cake, bottles of olives and various tinned dainties. “Say, this is all to the mustard!” exclaimed Ted Newton, who had accepted an invitation, in spite of his football training. The feasting began. Keyholes had been stuffed with paper, the windows had been darkened and every precaution taken. Nevertheless, just as the feast was about over, there came a knock on the door. Ned stood up to switch off the lights. But it was too late. A key grated in the lock, the door was suddenly thrown open, and there stood Proctor Thornton, a grim smile on his face. “Well, young gentlemen, you seem to be having a good time,” he said. “You will kindly give me your names and go to your own rooms. Hopkins, Baker, Slade—report to me to-morrow morning, and we will visit Dr. Cole together!” <hr class="chap" /> [132] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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