Linton considered himself a student of human nature, and he did guess pretty well this time, though Young had no sisters and had never taught school. "Anyway," he concluded, and in this he was right, perhaps, "college will be a great thing for him. No one ever made him realize his relative unimportance in the world." "As we made big Bally realize it last year," interposed Nolan, smiling. "Yes, and as we, too, were made to realize it the year before. My, what a big chump you'd have been, Billy, if you hadn't been hazed." "And, oh, what a supercilious ass you'd have made, Jim. Do you remember that time----" And these two walked on toward the campus with arms thrown carelessly about each others' shoulders, reminiscencing about days which, to hear them talk, you would have thought were half a generation ago; and so they were--half a college generation. Meanwhile Young was doing what Linton had told him to do, thinking over what had been said to him. Also he thought over what he had observed when the Juniors and Sophomores were in the room together, and he came to certain conclusions. Then he went to bed. CHAPTER V HAZING The very next evening, as Young and a classmate named Barrows were on the way from supper, someone stepped out from behind a tree-box and said, "Here he is, fellows," and the next moment the two Freshmen, surrounded by a dozen Sophomores, were on their way to the canal. Channing acted as ringmaster, as usual. To his surprise and, perhaps, disappointment, Young was not sullen or stubborn; he seemed rather good-natured about it. "Take off your hat, Deacon." "All right," said Young, smiling cheerfully, and lifted his hat. "Do it again and don't smile." He did it again and did not smile. "Who said you could put it back on your head? Take it off and keep it off." Young held it in his hand. "Put it on again," shouted Channing. And so it went. "Now, Deacon, since you have taken off your cap and have shown how low you can bow, show us how the prairie-dogs run, out home on the farm." The group was getting beyond the houses now. "But there aren't any prairie-dogs where I live in Illinois," returned Young, smiling. "That doesn't matter," growled Ballard; "do it anyway." So William Young, thinking of how the people out home were in awe of him because he had gone East to college, got down on all fours and ambled along the dusty road. "Now you do it, you little Freshman with the big head." Barrows gave his version of a prairie-dog's method of progress, laughing as if it were a good joke. "Now both do it at once," said Channing. The Sophomores laughed gleefully, especially at Young, he was so big and awkward. [Illustration: HAZING. "Now both sit up on your haunches and chatter awhile."] "That's pretty good," said Channing, as if he were the exhibitor of trained animals. "Now both sit up on your haunches and chatter awhile." Everybody laughed, Young included. "Don't laugh," said Channing.