"Maybe we'd better do something," proposed Tom. "No, best not to interfere," advised Sid. "Let them manage it." "But if Gladdus and Battersby are hurt----" "Come on," urged Phil. "We're likely to be caught any minute. Proc. Zane will be out after all that racket. Let's get to our rooms and lay low." When Tom and Sid were in their apartment the scrub pitcher turned to his chum and asked: "Did you know what was in the wind to-night, Sid?" "No. I left it all to Langridge and Kerr. But I guess it's all right. Why?" "Oh, nothing much. But if some one is hurt----" "Nonsense, don't worry. Why, that's nothing to what other classes have done. I remember hearing a story of how----" But Sid's yarn was interrupted by a tap at the door, and Ford Fenton slid in. There was rather a frightened look on his face. "What's up, Fenton?" asked Sid. "I don't know, but something is. They've carried Gladdus and Battersby into the infirmary, and there's a lot of scurrying about. They've sent for a doctor from town, and Moses and Proc. Zane have gone down to the pavilion." "What for?" asked Tom. "Blessed if I know. Say, but we broke up their singing all right, didn't we? It was great. My uncle says----" "Shut up!" cried Tom, and there was such unusual irritability in his tone that the other two looked at him in surprise. He saw it and went on: "I--I didn't exactly mean that, Fenton, old chap, but I'm--I'm all upset." "For cats' sake, what about?" demanded Sid. "You don't mean to say you're worried because our class knocked out a couple of greasy old sophs?" "Well, I--er----" There came another interruption, and a lad entered. "Here's the Snail," exclaimed Sid as Sam Looper crawled in and closed the door softly behind him. "He can find out what's up. How about it, Snail--any news?" Sam blinked his eyes as if the light hurt him. "I've been around--around," he said slowly, waving his hand to take in the whole compass of the college and grounds. "I saw 'em carry the two sophs away. They're badly burned and shocked. Langridge is a fool!" They had seldom seen the Snail so excited. "He went and strung a wire from the electric light circuit to the iron hand rail around the pavilion. Only he made a mistake in the connections and got the wires crossed with the powerful arc circuit. The incandescent is only a hundred and ten volts, while the arc is twenty-four hundred. Some difference. Only that they got a small part of it, they'd be dead instead of merely badly shocked." Tom Parsons half uttered an exclamation. "What's the matter?" asked Sid quickly. "Oh, nothing. Go on, Snail." "That's about all," came from Sam. "Pitchfork--he's a sort of doctor, you know--he's working over 'em now. I guess they'll be all right." Tom started to leave the room. "Where you going?" inquired Sid. "Out. I--I must see what's happened!"