“Careful, Chapin!” whispered one of the others, “the kid’ll squeal in a moment, and we’ll have Bill in on us.” “To heck with Bill! I’ll have that kid, or I’ll know the reason why!” “Gently, Arthur dear,” murmured Carroll. “Never resort to force until persuasion is exhausted. Dear Socrates, we desire the pleasure of your company for a walk abroad. The hour is unusual, but therefore the greater is the compliment. My friend Chapin is impetuous and slightly rude, but I counsel you to accept his invitation.” “What do you want with me?” asked Tony, stubbornly. “Don’t ask me to repeat, I beg of you. Time presses, and the patience of my friends is on the ebb.” “Hang your friends’ patience!” exclaimed Tony. “I won’t—” “It will hang them, my child, if you do not come. The effort to remove you by force will cost them no end of a hanging.” Tony saw that whatever resistance he might make, the kind that would save him was tabooed. He had only to make a noise, of course, and the master of the house would come to his rescue. Intuition told him that this was impossible, as impossible as also he felt it would be to submit placidly to hazing. Being southern, Tony had his prejudices. An objection to interference with his liberty even in the easy-going fashion of school-life was one of them. He decided at once that his protest, however, must be made out of doors, when all chance of attracting the attention of the masters was over. All this went through his mind a great deal more quickly than it can be told. As he made his decision, he pulled on his trousers and a jersey over the shirt of his pajamas, slipped his feet into “sneakers,” and professed to be ready. “Mumm’s the word, through the corridor,” whispered Chapin, as they slipped out into the dark passage-way, and cautiously felt their way towards the stairs. Carroll had condescended to take Tony’s hand, partly that he might guide him in the dark, partly to make sure that the boy did not give him the slip. At last they emerged upon the campus. It was dark and still. A late moon was casting its waning light over the hills beyond Strathsey Neck. The boys, still speaking in whispers, led Tony quickly across the ghostly campus, and into a field below the chapel, which sloped down toward the curving beach and sea. As they evidently meant to take him farther still, Deering pulled back here, and wrenched his arm free of Carroll’s grasp. “I have gone far enough,” he said. “Tell me what you want of me, here.” “Biff him, Kid,” exclaimed one of his captors, in a voice in which the note of brutality sounded painfully real. “Nay, nay, gently,” interposed Carroll. “Let me deal with Socrates.... We would lead you to the beach, my friend, where the little lobsters and the mermaids play, and there have you sing us songs and make us merry with your quips and jests; while we, from the recesses of a certain cave well known to us, extract certain delightful viands, and feast.”