Satterlee 2d tossed his arms over his head and opened his eyes. It was
of no use. As a much smaller boy--he was now thirteen years of age--his
mother, on putting him to bed, had always counseled “Now shut your eyes
and go to sleep.” And it had worked to a charm; so infallibly that
Satterlee 2d had unconsciously accepted it as a law of nature that in
order to go to sleep one had only to close one’s eyes. To-night, after
lying with lids forced so tightly together that they ached, he gave up
the struggle. Something was plainly wrong.
He snuggled the comforter up under his nose and stared into the
darkness. A thin, faint pencil of light was discernible straight ahead
and rather high up. After a moment of thought he knew that it stole in
at the top of the door from the hall, where an oil lamp flickered all
night on a bracket. From his right came faint gurgles, as regular as
clockwork. That was Sears, his room-mate, fast clasped in the arms of
Morpheus. Satterlee 2d envied Sears.
Back of him the darkness was less intense for a little space. The
shade at the window was not quite all the way down and a faint gray
light crept in from a cloudy winter sky. Satterlee 2d wondered what
time it was. Sears had blown out the light promptly at ten o’clock,
and that seemed whole hours ago. It must be very late, and still he
was not sleepy; on the contrary, he couldn’t remember having ever been
wider awake in his life. His thoughts flew from one thing to another
bewilderingly.
It had been very sudden, his change from home life to boarding-school.
His mother had not been satisfied with his progress at the
grammar-school, and when brother Donald, Satterlee 2d’s senior by two
years, had returned from Dr. Willard’s school for Christmas vacation,
healthy looking and as full of spirits as a young colt, the decision
was made; Thomas should go back to school with Donald.
Thomas was amazed and delighted. Until that moment he had conscientiously
treated all mention of Willard’s with scathing contempt, a course
absolutely necessary, since Don was in the habit of chanting its praises
at all times and in all places in a most annoyingly superior manner. But
as soon as he learned that he too was to become a pupil at Willard’s Tom
swore instant allegiance, for the first time hearkening eagerly to Don’s
tales of the greatness of the School, and vowing to make the name of
Thomas Polk Satterlee one to be honored and revered by future generations
of Willardians. He would do mighty deeds in school hall and campus--more
especially campus--and would win wonderful popularity. And then he bade
a moist-eyed farewell to home and parents, and, in care of his
travel-hardened brother, set forth for boarding-school, filled with
pleasurable excitement and fired with patriotism and grand resolves.
One thing alone had worried Satterlee 2d; the school catalogue, which
he had studied diligently from end to end, stated very distinctly--in
fact, in italics--that hazing was strictly forbidden and unknown at the
institution. Brother Don, on the other hand, told scalp-stirring tales
of midnight visitations to new boys by groups of ghostly inquisitors.
These two authorities, the only ones at Tom’s command, were sadly at
variance. But experience had taught Satterlee 2d that printed text was
on the whole more apt to be truthful than Brother Don; and he gained
comfort accordingly.
He had made his _début_ at Willard’s in proper style, had been formally
introduced to many other young gentlemen of ages varying from twelve to
eighteen years, had shaken hands humbly with Burtis, the school leader,
and had officially become Satterlee 2d.
He and his new roommate, Sears, had become firm friends in the short
period of three hours, and, realizing Sears’s good-will toward him, he
had listened to that youth’s enigmatic warning, delivered just as the
light went out, with respect.
“Say, if anything happens to-night, don’t wake me; I don’t want to know
anything about it.”
Satterlee 2d’s troubled questioning elicited only sleepy and very
unsatisfactory answers, and he had laid awake, hour after hour, or so
it seemed, with ears strained for suspicious sounds. But none had come,
and now--he yawned and turned over on the pillow--now he thought that
he could go to sleep at last. He closed his eyes.
Then he opened them again. It seemed hours later, but was in fact
scarcely five minutes. A bright, unhallowed light shone on his face.
White-draped figures, silent and terrible, were about him.
“_Ghosts!_” thought Satterlee 2d.
But just as he had gathered sufficient breath for a satisfactory
scream of terror, and just as some one had forced the corner of a
pillow into his mouth, recollection of Brother Donald’s tales came
to him and his fears subsided. With the supernatural aspect removed,
the affair resolved into an unpleasant but not alarming adventure. It
is idle to relate in detail the subsequent proceedings. Blindfolded
and attired only in a bath-robe, hastily thrown over his nightshirt,
he was conducted along corridors and down long flights of stairs,
over strange, uneven expanses of frozen ground, skirting frightful
abysses and facing dangers which, had he believed the asseverations
of his captors, were the most awful ever mortal braved. Despite his
incredulity he was glad when the end of the journey was reached. He was
led stumbling down three very chilly stone steps and brought to a halt.
The atmosphere was now slightly warmer, and this at least was something
to be thankful for.
“Neophyte,” said a deep voice which sounded suspiciously like Brother
Don’s, “you have passed unscathed through the Vale of Death. The first
period of your initiation into the Order of the Grinning Skull is
accomplished. We leave you now to dwell alone, until dawn gilds the
peak of yonder mountain, among the Spirits of the Under World. Should
you survive this, the most terrible ordeal of all, you will be one of
us and will be admitted into the secrets and counsels of our Order.
Farewell, perhaps forever!”
The hands that held him drew away, he heard the sounds of retreating
footsteps, of a closing door and a creaking bolt. He remained
motionless, his heart beating against his ribs. He wanted to cry out,
to bring them back, but pride was still stronger than fear. The
silence and damp odor of the place were uncanny. He thought of tombs
and things, and shuddered. Then summoning back his waning courage, he
tore the bandage from his eyes. Alas, he was still in complete darkness.
Satterlee 2d’s reading had taught him that the proper thing to do in
such situations was to explore. So he put forth his hands and stepped
gingerly forward. He brought up against a cold, reeking stone wall.
He followed it, found a corner, turned at right angles, soon found
another corner, and then worked back, at length coming in contact with
the steps and a heavy door. All efforts to move the latter were vain.
The floor was of wood and sounded hollow. The place had a clammy,
unwholesome feeling, and now was beginning to strike him as decidedly
wanting in warmth and comfort.
Suddenly his subsiding fear gave way before a rush of anger and he
stamped a slippered foot. A nice trick to play on a fellow, he declared
aloud; he’d tell Don what he thought of it in the morning, and he’d
punch somebody’s head, see if he didn’t! In his wrath he stepped
impetuously forward and gave a shriek of horror. He was up to his knees
in icy water.
He clambered out and sat shivering on the planks, while the knowledge
came to him that his prison was nothing else than the spring-house,
which Don had exhibited to him that afternoon during a tour of
sight-seeing. A narrow staging surrounded a large pool, he remembered;
in his journey about the place he had kept in touch with the walls, and
so had escaped a wetting, until his impetuous stride had plumped him
into it. Cold, wet, angry and miserable, he crept to the farther corner
of the house, to get as far as possible from the drafts that eddied
in under the door, and placing his back against the wall and wrapping
his wet garments about his knees, closed his eyes and tried to go to
sleep. He told himself that sleep was out of the question. But he was
mistaken, for presently his head fell over on one side and he slumbered.
When he awoke with a start, aroused by the sound of the opening of the
door, he stared blankly into the gloom and wondered for a moment where
he was. An oblong of gray at the end of the spring-house drew his
gaze. Two forms took shape, stumbled down the steps, and were lost in
the darkness. Then the door was closed again save for a narrow crevice.
His first thought that rescue was at hand was instantly dispelled. Some
one coughed painfully, and then:
“Phew, I’m nigh dead with cold,” said a weak, husky voice. “Two miles
from the village you said it was, didn’t yer? I’ll bet it’s five, all
right.”
“Well, you’re here now, ain’t yer?” responded a deeper voice,
impatiently. “So shut up. You make me tired, always kicking about
something. What do you expect, any way? Think the old codger’s going to
drive into town and hand the money over to yer? If you want anything
you’ve got to work for it.”
The two had sprawled themselves out on the floor to the left of the
doorway. Satterlee considered. Perhaps if he made his presence known,
the men, who were evidently tramps, would let him depart unmolested. On
the other hand, maybe they would be angry and cut his throat promptly
and very expertly, and drop his body into the pool. He shivered and
clenched his fists, resolved to perish bravely. He wished he were home
in his own bed; he wished--then he stopped wishing and listened.
“How long we got to stay here?” asked the first tramp wearily.
“We’ll wait till ’bout twelve. The doctor’s a great hand at staying up
late, I hear.”
“What time do you say it is now?”
“Half past eleven, I guess.”
“Phew!” The other whistled lugubriously. “I’ll be dead with the cold
by that time, Joe.” He went off into a paroxysm of coughing that made
Satterlee 2d, in spite of his terror, pity him, but which only brought
from his companion an angry command to make less noise.
“All right,” was the husky response, “give me some ’baccy, Joe? There’s
more’n time fer a bit of a smoke.” There followed sounds from across
the darkness and Satterlee 2d surmised that each was filling his pipe.
Then a match flared suddenly and lighted up the scene. The boy shut
his eyes and held his breath. Then he opened them the least crack and
peered across. The men were sitting just to the left of the doorway,
diagonally across from him. Between them lay the black oblong of water
splashed with orange by the flickering match. Satterlee 2d wondered
if it would never burn out! He could see only a tangled beard, a
glittering, half-closed eye, two big hands, between the fingers of
which the guarded light shone crimson. The light went out and he drew
a monstrous sigh of relief. The odor of tobacco floated across to him,
strong and pungent.
The two smoked silently for a moment. Satterlee 2d stared wide-eyed
into the darkness and tried to discover a way out of the difficulty.
From what little conversation he had overheard he judged that the
tramps meditated some crime against Doctor Willard, probably robbery.
If he entertained any doubt upon the subject it was quickly dispelled.
The tramp with the cough was talking.
“Who’s goin’ inside, Joe?”
“You; you’re smallest an’ lightest an’ can get through the window easy.
I’ll stand watch. If I whistle, make a run for it an’ try to get into
the woods across the road.”
“Ye-es, but I don’t know the lay of the room like you do, Joe.”
“Well, I’m goin’ to tell yer, ain’t I? When yer get through the window,
turn to yer right an’ keep along the wall; there ain’t nothin’ there
but bookcases; when yer get to the corner there’s a round table; look
out fer that. Keep along the wall again; there’s more book-shelves,
about six or eight feet of ’em. Then you comes to a high case with a
lid that lets down an’ makes a desk and swingin’ glass doors above it;
you know the sort o’ thing I mean, eh?”
“Old-fashion’ secretary,” said the other, evidently proud of his
knowledge.
“Correct! Well, you want to let down the lid----”
“Locked?”
“Likely it is; use ther little jimmy; the money’s in the lower drawer
on the left side. I don’t know what all’s there; better clean the
drawer out, see?”
Satterlee 2d was thinking hard, his heart in his throat and his pulse
hammering. He must get out of the spring-house somehow and warn the
doctor. But how? The men were practically between him and the door.
To make a dash for liberty would surely result disastrously; if they
caught him--Satterlee 2d’s teeth chattered! If he waited until they
went out and then followed he might be able to arouse the doctor or
scare the burglars away, _if_ they didn’t bolt the door again on the
outside, and so make him once more a prisoner. The only plan that
seemed at all feasible was to creep inch by inch to the doorway and
then make a dash for freedom. An impatient stir across the spring-house
warned him that whatever plan was to be tried must be attempted
speedily. He wriggled softly out of his bath-robe, gathered the skirt
of his nightgown in one hand, took a long breath, and started forward
on his hands and knees. The men were talking again, and one of the
pipes was sizzling loudly.
All went well for a moment, a moment that seemed an age, and he had
reached a point half-way to the door, when his hand slipped on the wet
boards with a noise, faint but distinct. He stopped short, his hair
stirring with fright.
“S--sh!” One of the men scrambled to his feet.
“What’s the matter?” growled the other.
“I heard somethin’--over there.”
“A frog, likely, you fool; got a match?”
Satterlee 2d was desperate. He was lost unless he could reach the
doorway first. He started forward again with less caution, and one
knee struck the floor sharply. A light flared out, and for a moment he
stared across the pool into two pairs of wide-open, gleaming eyes. Then
the match dropped into the water with a tiny hiss, and Satterlee 2d
leaped for the door. The streak of light was now but a scant two yards
distant. Near at hand sounded feet on the planking, and from the pool
came a splashing as one of the men rushed through the water. Then a
hand grasped the boy’s bare ankle. With a shriek he sprang forward, the
grasp was gone, and from behind him as he fled stumbling up the steps
came the sound of a heavy fall and a cry of triumph.
“I’ve got him!”
“You’ve got me, you fool! Let go!”
The next instant Satterlee 2d was through the doorway, had slammed
the portal behind him, and had shot the big iron bolt despairingly.
With closed eyes he leaned faint and panting against the oak while
blow after blow was rained on it from within and hoarse oaths told of
the terror of the prisoners. But the stout door showed no signs of
yielding, and Satterlee 2d opened his eyes and looked about him. The
night was cloudy, but the school-buildings were discernible scarce a
stone-throw away.
When Doctor Willard, awakened from sleep by the wild jangling of the
bell, drew his dressing-gown about him and looked forth, it was with
astonishment and alarm that he beheld a white-robed youth pulling
excitedly at the bell-knob. His astonishment was even greater when,
having found and adjusted his spectacles, he made out the youth to be
Satterlee 2d, who, by every rule of common sense, ought at that moment
to be asleep in the dormitory.
“But--but I don’t understand,” faltered the doctor. “Do you mean that
you have a gang of burglars locked up in the spring-house?”
“Yes, sir; two, sir; two burglars, sir!”
“Dear me, how alarming! But how----?”
“Don’t you think we could get the police, sir?”
“Um--er--to be sure. The police; yes. Wait where you are.”
The window closed, and presently the tinkle of a telephone bell
sounded. A minute or two later and Satterlee 2d, cold and aching, sat
before the big stove in the library, while the doctor shook and punched
the coals into activity.
“I’ve telephoned for the police,” said the doctor, gazing perplexedly
over his spectacles. “And now I would like to know what it all means,
my boy.”
“I--I was in the spring-house, sir,” began Satterlee 2d, “when I heard
a noise----”
“One moment,” interrupted the doctor. “What were you doing in the
spring-house at midnight?”
Satterlee dropped his eyes. He searched wildly for an explanation that
would not incriminate Donald and the others. Finally he gave it up.
“I--I’d rather not say, if you please, sir.”
“Um,” said the doctor. “Very well, we’ll pass over that for the
present. What happened when you heard a noise?”
Before Satterlee 2d had finished his story there came the sound of
wheels on the driveway without, which sent the doctor to the door. For
a minute the boy listened to the hum of voices in the hallway. Then he
commenced to nod--nod----
He awoke to find the winter sunlight streaming through the windows
of the doctor’s guest-chamber, and to learn from the clock on the
mantel that it was long after breakfast time. His clothes were beside
him on a chair and he tumbled into them hurriedly, the events of the
night flooding back to memory. He ate breakfast in solitary grandeur,
his thoughts fixed miserably on the explanation that must follow.
His indignation against Donald and the others had passed; he pitied
them greatly for the punishment which he felt certain would soon be
meted out to them. And he pitied himself because it was his lot to
bring that punishment about. His visions of popularity faded into
nothingness. For a moment he thought of cutting it all; of walking
straight from the dining-room to the station and disappearing from the
scene.
But when he pushed back his half-eaten breakfast and arose to his
feet it was to grip his hands rather tight, and with pale cheeks
walk, laggingly but directly, to the school hall. Prayers were over,
and the doctor was rubbing his spectacles reflectively, preparatory
to addressing the pupils. Satterlee 2d’s advent created a wave of
excitement, and all eyes were on him as he strode to his seat. The
doctor donned his glasses and surveyed the scene.
“Satterlee 2d!”
That youth arose, his heart thumping sickeningly.
“There was a portion of your story,” said the head master suavely,
“which you did not tell last night. Kindly explain now, if you please,
how you came to be in the spring-house at midnight.”
Satterlee 2d looked despairingly at the doctor, looked desperately
about the room. Brother Donald was scowling blackly at his ink-well.
Burtis, the school leader, was observing him gravely, and in his look
Satterlee 2d thought he read encouragement. The doctor coughed gently.
Satterlee 2d had been taught the enormity of lying, and his conscience
revolted at the task before him. But Don and the others must be spared.
He made a heroic effort.
“Please, sir, I went to get a drink.”
Depressing silence followed. Satterlee 2d’s eyes sought the floor.
“Indeed?” inquired the doctor, pleasantly. “And did you get your drink?”
“Yes, sir.” Satterlee 2d breathed easier. After all, lying wasn’t so
difficult.
“Ah, and then why didn’t you return to the dormitory?”
“The--door was locked, sir.”
Somebody near by groaned softly. Satterlee 2d wondered.
“On the inside?” pursued the doctor.
Too late Satterlee 2d saw his blunder. He gazed appealingly at the
inexorable countenance on the platform. Then,
“No, sir,” he answered in low tones, “on the outside.”
“Strange,” mused the head master. “Do you know who locked it?”
“No, sir.” He gave a sigh of relief. That, at least, was no more than
the truth.
“You may sit down.” Satterlee 2d sank into his seat.
“Which of you locked that door?” The doctor’s gaze swept the
schoolroom. Silence followed. Then two youths were on their feet
simultaneously. One was Burtis, the other was Satterlee 1st. The doctor
turned to the former.
“Am I to understand that you had a hand in this, Burtis?” he asked,
surprise in his voice.
“No, sir. If you please, sir, what I want to say is that the school as
a whole had nothing to do with this hazing, sir, and we--we don’t like
it. And if those that had a hand in it don’t own up, sir, I’ll give
their names. That’s all, sir.”
He sat down. Young Mr. Sears signified excited approbation by clapping
his hands until he found the doctor’s gaze upon him, whereupon he
subsided suddenly with very red cheeks. The doctor turned to Satterlee
1st.
“Well, sir?”
Brother Donald shot an angry glance at Burtis.
“Burtis needn’t talk so big, sir; he’d better give a fellow a chance
before he threatens----”
“That will do, my boy; if you have anything to say let me hear it at
once.”
“I--I locked that door, sir.”
“Indeed? And did you have any help in the matter?”
Brother Donald dropped his gaze and was silent. Then, with much
shuffling of unwilling feet, slowly, one after another, five other boys
stood up.
“Well, Perkins?” asked the doctor.
“I helped,” said that youth.
“And the rest of you?” Four subdued voices answered affirmatively. The
doctor frowned from one to the other. Then,
“You may take your seats,” he said, severely.
The six sank into their places and miserably awaited judgment. The
doctor ran his fingers thoughtfully over the leaves of the big
dictionary on the corner of his desk, then began to speak. The
discourse that followed was listened to with flattering attention.
It dealt very fully with the evils of hazing and seemed to promise
something quite unusual in the way of punishment. Brother Donald had
fully five minutes of the discourse all to himself, but appeared not at
all stuck up because of the attention. In fact, when he had listened
to all the doctor had to say on the subject of brotherly conduct, his
countenance was expressive of shame rather than conceit. Altogether,
it was quite the most exhaustive “wigging” in the recollection of the
oldest pupil in the school, and therefore it was with genuine surprise
that the Doctor’s concluding sentences were heard.
“In the present case,” he said, “I am inclined to be lenient.
Unwittingly you have prevented the probable loss to me of several
hundred dollars, and have secured the arrest of two members of society
who are--hem--better placed in jail than outside. This does not morally
exempt you from blame; your conduct is none the less despicable; but,
nevertheless, in view of these circumstances, I shall make your
punishment as light as is consistent. But first you will give me your
promise that never, so long as you are in my school, will you take part
in or countenance hazing in any form, shape or manner whatsoever. Have
I that promise?”
Six voices sounded as one.
“Very well. Now I shall require all six of you to remain within bounds
until the Easter vacation. This means that you will not be privileged,
as usual, to visit the village on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons.
That is all. You will please carefully remember what I have said. We
will now take up the lessons.”
A well-defined murmur of relief passed over the room. Then,
“If you please, sir,” said a voice, quietly, from among the boys.
The doctor glanced up.
“What is it, Satterlee 2d?”
“If you please, sir, I’d like to take the punishment with the others,
sir.”
“Indeed?” The doctor looked puzzled. “And for what reason?”
“For--for lying, sir.”
“For what?”
“For--for not telling the truth, sir.”
“H--m.”
The doctor removed his spectacles and polished them slowly, very
slowly, as if he were doing some hard thinking. Then he replaced them
and faced the class.
“I--hem--I will exempt you from punishment. It isn’t what you deserve,
not by a great deal, but--you may thank Satterlee 2d.”
Satterlee 2d’s popularity began at that moment.