“He doth protest too much!” cried a laughing hazer, fetching Bondy a resounding thump with a slap-stick. “Run!” shouted the Senator, giving him another shove, and the wealthy lad ran perforce, since he was half-pushed, half-pulled the length of the double line. And what a trouncing he got! He was at once recognized as a supercilious and overbearing lad and the punishment to fit the crime was duly meted out to him. He reached the end of the gauntlet rather much the worse for wear, and his spruce new suit was in need of a tailor’s services. “Now for the next!” cried the Senator. “Where’s that Whistle-Breeches fellow?” “Here,” answered Anderson. “Well, we’ll let you off easy, for you look like a good sort.” Whistle-Breeches was grinning in an agony of apprehension. “Can you sing?” he was asked. “A—a little.” “Dance?” “Even less.” “Good, then you’ll do the Highland fling. Here, who’s got the mouth organ?” “I have,” was the answer from the ranks of the hazers. “Pipe up a Scotch hornpipe. Where’s that whitewash brush, and skirt. Off with his trousers.” Before Donald could protest he was minus his lower garments and a short skirt of Scotch plaid had been slipped over his head, and fastened behind. Then a dangling whitewash brush was hung about his hips, in imitation of a Scottish costume, and while the mouth organ made doleful music Whistle-Breeches as well as he was able, which was not very good, did a dance. “Livelier!” was the command, amid a gale of laughter, and livelier it was, until even the hazers were satisfied. “Next,” called the Senator, like a barber. “Here are three we can work off together,” volunteered some one, and Pete, Bill and John Smith were thrust forward. “What’ll it be?” demanded the Senator. “Blanket tossing,” called several. “No, the pond test.” “Too cold for the water. We’ll give ’em the blanket degree. Bring out the woolens.” Some heavy horse blankets were produced and with the hazers holding to the corners, our heroes were tossed up into the air, and caught as they came down with sickenish feelings. But they had been through the ordeal before, and knew what to do. They kept quiet and were not hurt. But when Bill and Pete were tossed together, it was not so much fun, and they very nearly had an accident. Altogether it was rather a tame hazing, and the Sophs and Juniors felt it so. “The pond! The pond!” was the cry. “That means a ducking,” said Cap in a whisper to his brothers. “We won’t stand for that. Let ’em take you along easy, until they get you right to the edge, and then take a brace, and pitch in the first man you can grab. I’ll whistle when it’s time. They won’t suspect anything.” “The pond! The pond!” was the cry again raised, and though the Senator and some of the older students were a bit averse to it they had to give in to the majority.