Of the leading junior and senior societies little is actually known, save that they exist and have quaint, curious and handsome society houses. A member never talks about the society to which he belongs. The pin which he wears in its proper place tells that he is a member, and no more than that can he reveal to an outsider. This badge is supposed never to leave his person, even during a bath, at which time he must hold it in his mouth. If you ask him questions, he will receive them in absolute silence. These societies have never brought censure on the college by carelessness or recklessness. Of them all Skull and Bones is the richest and most respected. Every year it takes in fifteen men from the incoming senior class, and he is not a Yale man who would prefer any scholarship honors or prizes to membership in “Old Bonesy.” The ones chosen for membership stand head and shoulders above the rest of the class in distinction, literary, scholastic, athletic, social or otherwise. The other two top-notch societies are Scroll and Key and Wolf’s Head. “Keys” is rated next to “Bones,” and Wolf’s Head comes third in order. Instances are not unknown where a man unnoticed by “Bones” or “Keys” has refused to join Wolf’s Head. It was generally believed in Yale that Merriwell was sure of making “Bones.” When the daring kidnapers had removed their captive from the cab and the driver had driven away, Frank produced a stout piece of rope. This was small, but seemed strong enough to support the weight of a man. “Here,” whispered Frank, motioning to Harry, “tie it about his waist, and make it fast. Be sure of that.” Rattleton obeyed hurriedly. “Now, fellows,” came in a whisper from Merriwell, “we have no time to waste. He must be nearly smothered. We’ll souse him, release the blanket and get away. We can do it here in the darkness without the least danger that he will recognize us.” There was a sudden movement beneath the blanket, which was fiercely flung aside, and the hoarse voice of the proctor uttered a cry for help. Swift though the movements of the proctor were, Frank Merriwell was quite as quick. He caught the blanket and again drew it about the head of the man, hissing: “Tie his hands, fellows! Make them fast this time!” The proctor’s cry had been cut short and smothered. He had a short battle, but his spirit seemed broken, and he easily succumbed, his hands being tied behind his back. “Wheejiz!” panted Harry, looking round fearfully. “S’pose anybody heard him?” “Not likely,” said Diamond. “Can’t tell,” admitted Frank. “Let’s get the job over in a hurry,” urged Griswold, who seemed to be growing nervous and apprehensive. Then they made the proctor march blindly onto the bridge. Frank held fast to the rope that was tied about the man’s waist. They came to a halt at last. On the bridge below a light gleamed brightly. They were in the shadow. “Are you ready, fellows?” asked Browning, as he took hold of the captive.