“Surest thing you know,” declared Cap. “We all want to make the ball team this spring, and if we balk out of the hazing I know what that means.” “Are you going to take all that comes?” asked Bill. “Well, up to a certain point, but if it gets too strenuous, I’ll take a hand myself. But we can’t tell until the time comes. Now let’s get to bed.” Lively were the scenes that took place the next day. With the arrival of many new students, the return of old ones, the assigning of the boys to their rooms, the making up of classes, it is a wonder that poor old “Prexy’” did not desert. But he took everything calmly, and soon a sort of order came out of chaos. The Smith boys found themselves in the midst of a lively colony of students in their dormitory. There were five rooms on a short corridor, and of these our heroes had three. Pete’s apartment was between those of Bill and John’s, while the letter’s adjoined the room of Donald Anderson, a new lad who was at once dubbed “Whistle-Breeches” by some senior from the fact that Donald wore corduroy trousers, which squeaked or “whistled” as he walked. As soon as he learned why he was so christened, he got rid of the offending garments, but the name stuck, and “Whistle-Breeches” he remained to the end of his course. Next to Bill there roomed a well-dressed, supercilious lad, who was reputed to be quite wealthy, and his overbearing manners added to this surmise. He was James Guilder, but he was at once christened “Bondy” for he had boasted of his father’s stocks and bonds. Behold then, these five lads domiciled together in the Freshman corridor. Across the hall from Pete’s room, was a larger apartment, which, as befitted his station, held a lordly senior, one Dick Lawson, who rejoiced in the name of “Roundy” because he was fat. He was also good natured, and though the school authorities had placed him there to have a sort of leavening effect on the Freshmen, he was too good natured to be any sort of a monitor. After the first supper, partaken of with the entire school assembled in the refectory, the three Smith boys went to their rooms, not knowing what else to do. “I say, we’re not going to stay in like chickens; are we?” demanded Bill. “No, but take it easy,” advised Cap. “We want to get the lay of things before we start anything.” “That’s all right,” agreed Pete. “Do you know what the Freshmen do the first night?” “Get hazed?” ventured Cap. “No, they go out and collect signs from around town—pull ’em off, you know; bootblack signs, restaurant signs—any kind—and decorate their rooms with ’em. Let’s do it. Whistle-Breeches said he’d go.” “Let’s don’t,” came from Cap calmly. “To-morrow will do as well, and I want to look over some lessons. We’ve got to buckle down to work here. It isn’t like the school at home.” “Wow! I say you’re not going to become a greasy grind so soon; are you?” demanded Bill in contempt.