The Rover Boys at College Part 9

"Hazing?" asked d.i.c.k.

"So I was told."

"Will they start in so early?" asked Sam.

"Any time after midnight. I hate to think of it, but I reckon a fellow has got to submit."

"That depends," answered d.i.c.k. "I'll not stand for everything. I'll not mind a little hazing, but it mustn't be carried too far."

"That's the talk," cried Tom. "If they go too far--well, we'll try to give 'em as good as they send, that's all."

"Right you are!" came from Sam.

They unpacked their trunks and proceeded to make themselves at home as much as possible. As d.i.c.k was alone in his room, he went over to his brothers' apartment for company, locking his door as he did so.

"I'll tell you what I'd do if I were you, d.i.c.k," said Tom. "Stay here to-night. My bed is big enough for two on a pinch. Then, if there is any hazing, we can keep together. To-morrow, if Songbird comes, it will be different."

This suited the oldest Rover, and he brought over such things as he needed for the night. The boys were tired out, having put in a busy day, and by ten o'clock Sam and Tom were both yawning.

"I think I'll go to bed," said Sam. "If anything happens wake me up."

"Oh, you'll wake up fast enough if they come," answered Tom. "But I am going to lay down myself. But I am not going to undress yet."

Taking off their shoes and collars, ties and coats, the boys said their prayers and laid down. Sam was soon in the land of dreams, and presently Tom and d.i.c.k followed.

Two hours pa.s.sed and the three lads were sleeping soundly, when suddenly Tom awoke with a yell. A stream of cold water had struck him in the head, making him imagine for the instant that he was being drowned.

"Hi, stop" he spluttered and then stopped, for the stream of water took him directly in the mouth. Then the stream was s.h.i.+fted and struck first d.i.c.k and then Sam. All three of the Rovers leaped from the beds as quickly as possible. Although confused from being awakened so rudely, they realized what it meant.

They were being hazed.

CHAPTER VI

A HAZING, AND WHAT FOLLOWED

The stream of water came from a small hose that was being played through a transom window over the door of the room. A lad was holding the hose, and in the dim light d.i.c.k recognized the face of a youth named Bart Larkspur, a soph.o.m.ore who did not bear a very good reputation. Larkspur was poor and d.i.c.k had heard that he was used by Flockley, Koswell and others to do all sorts of odd jobs, for which the richer lads paid him well.

"Stop that, you!" cried the oldest Rover, and then, rus.h.i.+ng to the door, he flung it open and gave a shove to what was beyond. This was a short step-ladder upon which Larkspur and several others were standing, and over the ladder went with a crash, sending the hazers to the floor of the hallway in a heap.

"Get the hose," whispered Tom, who had followed his brother, and while the soph.o.m.ores were endeavoring to get up, he caught the squirming hose and wrenched it, nozzle and all, from Bart Larkspur's hand.

"Hi, give me that!" yelled Larkspur.

"All right, here you are," answered Tom merrily, and turned the stream of water directly in the soph.o.m.ore's face. Larkspur spluttered and s.h.i.+ed and then plunged to one side into a fellow student standing near. This was Dudd Flockley, and he was carried down on his back.

"Play away, Six!" called out Tom in true fireman style, and directed the stream on Flockley. It hit the dudish student in the chin and ran down inside his s.h.i.+rt collar.

"Stop, I beg of you! Oh, my!" screamed Flockley, trying to dodge the water. "Larkspur, grab the hose! Knock that rascal down! Why don't somebody do something?"

"Give me that hose, you fres.h.i.+e!" called out Jerry Koswell, who was in the crowd. "Don't you know better than to resist your superiors? I want you to understand--"

"Keep cool, old man, don't get excited," answered Tom brazenly. "Ah, I see you are too warm. Will that serve to keep your temperature down?"

And now he turned the hose on Koswell, hitting the fellow directly in the left ear. Koswell let out a wild yell and started to retreat and so did several others.

"Don't go! Capture the hose!" called out Flockley, but even as he spoke he took good care to get behind another soph.o.m.ore.

"Capture it yourself!" growled the youth he was using as a s.h.i.+eld.

"Say, you're making too much noise," whispered another student. "Do you want the proctor down on us? And turn that water off before you ruin the building. Somebody has got to pay for this, remember," he added.

As it was an unwritten law of Brill that all hazers must pay for any damage done to college property while hazing anybody, one of the soph.o.m.ores started for the lavatory where the hose had been attached to a water faucet. But while the water still ran, Tom, aided by d.i.c.k and Sam, directed the stream on the soph.o.m.ores, who were forced to retreat down the hallway.

"Now rush 'em! Rush 'em!" yelled Flockley, when the water had ceased to run. "Bind and gag 'em, and take 'em down to the gym. We can finish hazing 'em there!"

"Get into the room!" whispered d.i.c.k. "Hurry up, and barricade the door!"

"Right you are, but no more hose water for me," answered Tom, and pulled on the rubber with all his might. It parted about half way down the hallway, and into the room he darted with the piece in his hands.

Then Sam and d.i.c.k closed the door, locked it, and shoved a bed and the table against the barrier. They also turned the b.u.t.ton of the transom window so that the gla.s.s could not be swung back as before.

"Now they can't get in unless they break in," said d.i.c.k grimly, "and I doubt if they'll dare to do that."

"Say, maybe I'm not wet," remarked Sam, surveying his dripping s.h.i.+rt.

"Never mind; we sent as good as we got, and more," answered Tom with a grin. "Let us put on our coats so we don't catch cold. No use of putting on dry clothing until you are sure the ball is over."

"Tom, you're a crack fireman," said d.i.c.k with a smile. "I'll wager those sophs are mad enough to chew nails."

"What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander," quoted the fun-loving Rover. "What's the good of living if you can't return a compliment now and then?"

For several minutes all was silent outside. Then came a light knock on the door. d.i.c.k held his hand up for silence and the knock was repeated.

"Don't answer them," whispered the oldest Rover.

"Say, I want to talk to you fellows," came in low tones. "This is important."

"Who are you?" asked d.i.c.k after a pause.

"I'm Larkspur--Bart Larkspur, I want to tell you something."

"Well, what is it?" demanded Tom.

"Your resistance to our cla.s.s won't do you any good. If you'll come out and take your medicine like men, all right; but if you resist it will go that much harder with you."

"Who sent you--Frank Holden?" asked Sam.