“Come on!” cried the crowd, hustling Pete and the two other lads along. “It’ll be over in a minute and you’ll feel better for it,” consoled one hazer to Cap. “Do you really think so?” he asked gently. “Sure,” was the reply, and the youth wondered why the three did not make more of a fuss. He found out a little later. “Much against our will, we are compelled to initiate you into the mysteries of the Knights of the Frogs,” said the Senator, as the crowd lined up on the bank of a pond not far from the football gridiron. “Go ahead,” said Cap easily, glancing on either side where his brothers stood. “Is it deep?” “Only to your waist,” answered the Senator. “Can you swim?” and he was in earnest for he would have stopped the hazing had he found either of the candidates deficient in the watery pastime. “A little,” admitted Bill. “Oh, please—please don’t throw us in!” he pleaded suddenly. “No, don’t—I—I have a cold,” added Pete, taking his cue. “I—I’d a good deal rather have something else, if it’s all the same to you,” put in Cap, pretending to shiver. “I thought we’d get their goat!” shouted a lad who had been disappointed that the candidates did not show more fear. “All ready now, in with ’em!” The three Smith brothers allowed themselves to be led close to the edge of the pond. On either side of each lad stood a hazer, with one hand on a collar and the other grasping the seat of the trousers. “All ready!” again called the leader. “I’ll count three and in they go!” “One!” came the tally, and the throwers swayed their victims slowly to and fro. “Two!” came the count. But before the third signal could be given there came a whistle from Cap. At that instant the hazers had eased back ready for the forward motion at the word three! But it did not come. Instead Pete, Cap and Bill seemed to slip down. In an instant they were loose. But they did not run. Instead they put out their feet, one after the other gave vigorous shoves, and six forms, dextrously tripped, lay prostrate on the sod. They were the forms of the lads who had expected to toss into the pond the three Freshmen. “In with ’em!” cried Cap, and before the astonished hazers knew what was up, one after the other had been rolled down the sloping bank of the pond, into the water. The tables had been turned most effectively, and, as our heroes fled off through the night they heard some one call: “For the love of tripe, what are we up against? Who were those fellows?” “Th—those—those Smith boys!” was the spluttering answer of one who crawled out of the frog pond. CHAPTER VII MOVING THE SENIOR STONE “It occurs to me,” remarked Cap Smith one evening about a week after the hazing, when his two brothers and Whistle-Breeches had foregathered in the elder Smith lad’s room for a talk, “it occurs to me, fellows, that we’re not doing much to uphold the honor and dignity of the Freshman class. What about it?”