The Crimson Sweater Page 4

  CHAPTER III

  A MIDNIGHT HAZING

  After the lights were out that night Roy lay for quite a while in hisbed in the Senior Dormitory reviewing the day. He was tired as a resultof the football practice and he had a lame tendon in his left leg whichhe believed he had sustained in his flying leap onto the hedge whengoing to the relief of Angel, and which bothered him a little now thathe had stopped using it. But his weariness and soreness hadn't kept himfrom eating an enormous dinner in the Dining Hall down stairs, any morethan it was going to keep him from going to sleep in a few minutes.

  During dinner he had begun to feel at home. He had found himself at Mr.Cobb's table, which later on would be weeded out to make room for thefootball players, and had sat next to Captain Rogers, who had spoken tohim several times quite affably, but not about football. The otherfellows, too, had shown a disposition to accept him as one of them, ifwe omit Horace Burlen and Otto Ferris, and by the time Roy had scrapedthe last morsel of pudding from his dish he had commenced to think thatlife at Ferry Hill might turn out to be "both pleasant and profitable,"as Harry had phrased it. After dinner he had spent the better part of anhour in the study room on the first floor composing a letter home. Thatfinished, he had wandered down to the river and had been mildly rebukedby Mr. Buckman, an instructor, for going out of bounds after eighto'clock. There had been prayers at nine in the two dormitories and afterthat, in the midst of shouts and laughter and general "rough house," hehad undressed, washed, donned his pajamas and jumped into the narrowwhite enamelled bed to which he had been assigned.

  Tomorrow lessons would begin and he wondered how he was going to fare.He had entered on a certificate from his grammar school and had been putinto the Second Senior Class. If he could keep up with that he would beready for college in two years. Roy's father pretended to think himbackward because he would not enter until he was eighteen, and delightedin telling him of boys who had gone to college at sixteen. But Roy'smother always came to his defence. There was no sense, she declaredwarmly, in boys going to college before they were old enough tounderstand what it meant and to derive benefit from the life. And Roy'sfather would shake his head dubiously and mutter that he had neverexpected a son of his to be a dullard.

  Greek and English were what Roy was afraid of. Latin and mathematicsheld no terrors for him. As for the other studies, he believed he couldworry along with them all right. His mother had hinted hopefully of ascholarship, but Roy knew his capabilities better than she did andlooked for no such honors.

  Meanwhile the dormitory, full of whispers and repressed laughter for thefirst few minutes of darkness, had become silent save for a snore hereand there. Roy's thoughts wandered back to the football field and toHorace Burlen, who was lying somewhere near in the dark, and presentlyhis eyelids fell together and he was asleep.

  How long he slept he never knew, but when he awoke suddenly to findhands gently shaking him by the shoulders it seemed that it must bemorning. But the dormitory was still in darkness and the breathing ofthe sleepers still sounded.

  "Get up and don't make any noise," commanded a voice at his ear.Sleepily, he strove to get his thoughts together. For a moment nothingwas very clear to him. Then the command was repeated a trifleimpatiently and Roy began to understand.

  "What for?" he asked, temporizing.

  "Never you mind. Just you do what we tell you, and mind you make no fussabout it. There are a dozen of us here and we won't stand any nonsense."

  Roy hadn't given any thought to hazing, but now he concluded that, touse his own inelegant expression, he "was up against it." Of course, ifit was the custom to haze new boys there was no use making a fuss aboutit, no use in playing baby. The only thing that bothered him was thatthe speaker's voice sounded unpleasantly like Horace Burlen's and therewas no telling to what lengths that youth's dislike might lead him.However, his companions, whoever they were, would probably see fairplay. So Roy, with a sigh, tumbled softly out of bed. He could just seeindistinct forms about him and hear their breathing.

  "Hold still," said the voice, and Roy, obeying, felt a bandage beingpressed against his eyes and secured behind his head. Then, with a handgrasping each arm, he was led silently across the floor. Down twoflights of stairs he was conducted, through the lower hall and then thechill night air struck his face. More steps, this time the graniteflight in front of the hall, and his bare feet were treadinguncomfortably on the gravel. So far there had been no sounds from hiscaptors. Now, however, they began to whisper amongst themselves and,although he couldn't hear what was being said, he gathered that theywere undecided as to where to take him. The procession halted and allsave the two who stood guard beside him drew away. The night air beganto feel decidedly chill and he realized that cotton pajamas aren't thewarmest things to wear for a nocturnal jaunt in late September.Presently the others returned and they started on again. In a moment thepath began to descend and Roy remembered with a sinking heart that hehad trod that same path earlier in the evening and that at the end of itlay the river!

  By this time his teeth were chattering and he was quite out of sympathywith the adventure. For a moment he considered escape. But if, as theleader of the expedition had stated, there were a dozen fellows in theparty, he would be recaptured as sure as fate. Unconsciously he heldback.

  "None of that," said the voice threateningly, and he was pulled forwardagain. For a few steps he tried digging his heels in the ground, but ithurt and did no good anyhow. So he went on without further resistance.In a minute the procession stopped. Then he heard the keel of a boatgrate lightly on the pebbles.

  "Step up," was the command. Roy obeyed and felt the planking of thefloat under his bare feet. Then,

  "Get into the boat," said the voice. Roy did so very cautiously andfound a seat. Oars were dipped into the water and the boat moved softlyaway from the landing.

  "Can you swim?" asked the voice, and this time Roy was certain that itwas Horace Burlen's. For an instant he wondered what would happen if hesaid no. Probably they would devise some punishment quite asuncomfortable as a ducking in the lake. The latter wasn't veryterrifying, and, at all events, the water couldn't be much colder thanthe air was! So,

  "Yes," he answered, and heard a chuckle.

  "Good, you'll have a chance to prove it!"

  For what seemed several minutes the boat was paddled onward. By thistime, thought Roy, they must be a long way from shore, and he suddenlywondered, with a little sinking at his heart, whether the current wasvery strong thereabouts and how, when he was in the water, he was totell in which direction the land lay. Then the oars had ceased creakingin the rowlocks and the boat was rocking very gently in the water.

  "Stand up," said the voice. Hands guided him as he obeyed and steadiedhim.

  "When I count three you will jump into the water and swim for land,"continued the leader.

  "You've got to take this thing off my eyes, though," protested Roy.

  "That may not be," answered the voice sternly, and Roy caught a gigglefrom behind him which was quickly suppressed.

  "Then I'm hanged if I'll do it," he said doggedly.

  "Better to jump than be thrown," was the ominous reply.

  Roy considered.

  "Which way do I swim?" he asked. "Where's the landing?"

  "That you will discover for yourself. We may tell you no more."

  "Don't see that you've told me much of anything," muttered Roywrathfully. "How do you fellows know that there isn't a big old rockhere? Want me to bust my head open?"

  "We are in clear water," was the answer. "And"--and now the formalphraseology was abandoned--"if you don't hurry up and get ready we'llplaguey soon heave you in head over heels."

  "Oh, go to thunder, you old bully!" growled Roy. "Go ahead and do yourcounting. I'd rather be in the river than here with you."

  "Take him out farther," said the voice angrily. But the order wasn'tobeyed. Instead there was a whispered discussion and finally the voicesaid:

  "All right. Now then
, all ready, kid! One!... Two!... Three!"

  The grasp on Roy's arms was relaxed, he raised them above his head andsprang outward. But just as he was clearing the boat a hand shot forwardand grasped his ankle just long enough to spoil his dive. Then he hadstruck the water flat on his stomach and, with the breath gone from hisbody, felt it close over his head.