"The pitcher, I guess," answered Dutton. "The blanket's getting too tame, and we have so many to look after that we can't take 'em outside. Any water in the jug, Beeby?" "Full," replied a fat lad, taking up one of the two pitchers in the room. "Up with him!" commanded Dutton, and several cadets seized Paul in an instant. Before he knew what was happening they had stood him on his head, two of them holding each of his rather long legs upright. "Hold open his trouser legs," said Dutton. "I'll do the pouring." He had the pitcher full of water, and, as his fellow hazers made a sort of funnel of the two legs of the victim's trousers, Ray poured the contents of the water pitcher down them. The fluid spurted out at the unlucky new student's waist and collar, and ran in a little stream over the floor. Paul struggled but could not escape. "Sop that up, fellows!" cried Dutton. "We don't want it to ruin the ceilings below. Use the bed clothes." The other cadets, who were not holding Paul, grabbed the sheets and spreads from the neatly made beds, and piled them in the little pond of water on the floor. "Hand me the other pitcher, Naylor," commanded the leader. "Better save it for----" and Naylor glanced at Dick, who was standing quietly in a corner, under guard of several cadets, awaiting his turn. "We'll not need it for him," replied Dutton. "Give it here." Some one handed him the other pitcher full of water, and the fluid in that, a moment later, went gurgling down the inside of Paul's clothes, spurting out as had the other. "You're initiated into the Ancient and Honorable Order of the Mystic Pig," announced Dutton, making a sign to his comrades to let Paul regain his feet. "Do you solemnly promise to be most respectful to your superiors, and not to partake of ham and eggs or any form of pork until after Christmas?" "You'd better promise," said one of the cadets to Paul, who hesitated. "Oh, I promise all right," he said, with a rueful smile as he looked down at his soaked garments, and surveyed the confusion in the room. There was not a dry article of bed clothing left. "Now for the other one!" cried Beeby, making a grab for Dick. The young millionaire was ready to submit to any form of hazing that might be inflicted, but, to his surprise Dutton said: "Never mind him. We'll let him go." "Why he's a freshman," objected several of the cadets, evidently thinking Dutton imagined Dick to be immune. "I know it, but he's in a different class," went on the leader with a covert sneer. "He might buy up the police authorities and have us arrested for having a little fun. We'll let him alone. We're only after common mortals." Dick flushed. "You're mistaken," he said as calmly as he could. "If hazing is in order I'm ready to take my share. I assure you I won't squeal. I'm not that kind." It hurt him, to think that he should be taken for a "squealer." He, Dick Hamilton, who had done his own share of hazing in the academy at home.