Being a newcomer, Sam had to undergo some initiating. The second night he was there, after he had settled himself comfortably on his straw mattress and was drowsily watching the stars through the window at the foot of his cot, something at once startling and mysterious occurred. If Sam had been more experienced with boys he would have become suspicious at the almost instant silence which prevailed that night after “lights.” Almost before the boys had exchanged “good night” with the councillors, unmistakable evidences of healthy slumber came from various quarters. Something else that might have warned Sam was the prompt dousing of his reading-light by Mr. Gifford. The previous night that gentleman had burned his lamp until almost midnight, as Sam, the unaccustomed surroundings and the strange bed keeping him wakeful, well knew. But to-night Mr. Gifford had blown out his lamp only a minute or so after ten. Sam was just on the verge of sinking off into slumber when the blanket--there were no sheets at The Wigwam--suddenly slid off to the floor. Sleepily, he reached down and felt for it, but failed to get hold of it. Wider awake now, he groped again but with no success. There was enough light from the open doorway and the windows to show him the blanket lying under the next cot. Blinking, he put his legs out of bed and reached for it. It wasn’t there! He stared in amazement. He stooped and peered under the cot. The blanket was now between it and the next one. Still too bemused by sleep to suspect a trick, he got up and walked around to the next aisle. The snoring had quite ceased, but Sam failed to notice the fact. Again he leaned down to pick up the blanket and again it wasn’t there! He realised then he was the victim of a practical joke, but the mechanism still puzzled him. Up and down the dormitory not a figure moved. Intense silence prevailed. With the breeze playing about his bare legs, Sam stood in the passage and deliberated. Finally a slow smile spread over his face and the next instant he had whisked the blanket from the nearest cot and was walking sedately back to his bed! And at that moment shouts went up from all over the dormitory and every boy was sitting up in his cot, wide awake and swaying with laughter. And, as Sam lay down again and drew his stolen blanket over him, he was surprised to hear Mr. Gifford’s laughter mingling heartily with the rest! The boy whose bed-clothing Sam had taken in reprisal was now dodging from one aisle to the next in wild pursuit of the elusive blanket which, pulled at the end of a cord from the farther end of the hall, led him a merry chase. Meanwhile the boys were calling demurely to Sam: “Cold night, Mr. Craig!” “Anything I can do, sir?” “That was a mean trick, Mr. Craig!” And then Mr. Gifford’s voice from across the passage: “We all have to take it, Craig! All right now?” “Yes, thanks,” replied Sam. “Anyone who gets this will have to fight for it!”