BULLY SNAITH
"Hello, Dock, I'm glad to see you out of the hospital," remarked Jack
one morning about a week later, when his boating rival was walking down
the campus. "You had quite a time of it."
"Yes," admitted Snaith, "I got a nasty bump on the head. Say, Ranger, I
haven't had a chance to thank you for pulling me out. I'm much obliged
to you."
"Oh, that's all right. Don't mention it," answered Jack. "If I hadn't
done it, some one else would."
"Well, I'm glad you did. But say, I still think I can beat you rowing.
Want to try it again?"
"I won't mind, when you think you're well enough."
"Oh, I'll be all right in a day or so."
"Be careful. You don't want to overdo yourself."
"Oh, I'll beat you next time. But I want to race for money. What do you
say to twenty-five dollars as a side bet?"
"No, thanks, I don't bet," replied Jack quietly.
"Hu! Afraid of losing the money, I s'pose," sneered Dock.
"No, but I don't believe in betting on amateur sport."
"Well, if you think you can beat me, why don't you bet? It's a chance to
make twenty-five."
"Because I don't particularly need the money; and when I race I like to
do it just for the fun that's in it."
"Aw, you're no sport," growled Snaith as he turned aside. "I thought you
had some spunk."
"So I have, but I don't bet," replied Jack quickly. He felt angry at the
bully, but did not want to get into a dispute with him.
"Hello, Dock," called Pud Armstrong, as, walking along with Glen Forker,
he caught sight of his crony. "How you feeling?"
"Fine, but I'd feel better if there weren't so many Sunday-school kids
at this institution. I thought this was a swell place, but it's a
regular kindergarten," and he looked meaningly at Jack.
"What's up?" asked Pud.
"Why, I wanted to make a little wager with Ranger about rowing him
again, but he's afraid."
"It isn't that, and you know it," retorted our hero quickly, for he
overheard what Snaith said. "And I don't want you to go about
circulating such a report, either, Dock Snaith."
With flashing eyes and clenched fists Jack took a step toward the bully.
"Oh, well, I didn't mean anything," stammered Snaith. "You needn't be so
all-fired touchy!"
"I'm not, but I won't stand for having that said about me. I'll race you
for fun, and you know it. Say the word."
"Well--some other time, maybe," muttered Snaith, as he strolled off with
his two cronies.
It was that afternoon when Jack, with Nat Anderson, walking down a path
that led to the lake, came upon a scene that made them stop, and which,
later, was productive of unexpected results.
The two friends saw Dock Snaith, together with Pud Armstrong and Glen
Forker, facing the new boy, Will Williams. They had him in a corner of a
fence, near the lake, and from the high words that came to Jack and Nat,
it indicated that a quarrel was in progress.
"What's up?" asked Nat.
"Oh, it's that bully, Snaith, making trouble for the freshman," replied
Jack. "Isn't it queer he can't live one day without being mean? Snaith,
I'm speaking of. He's a worthy successor to Jerry Chowden."
"Well, you polished off Chowden; maybe you can do the same to Snaith."
"There's no question but what I can do it, if I get the chance. He's
just like Jerry was--always picking on the new boys, or some one
smaller than he is."
"Come on, let's see what's up."
They did not have to go much closer to overhear what was being said by
Snaith and his cronies on one side, and Will on the other.
"I say, you new kid, what's your name?" asked the bully.
"Yes, speak up, and don't mumble," added Pud.
"My name is Williams," replied the new lad. "I wish you would let me
go."
"Can't just yet, sonny," said Glen. "We are just making your
acquaintance," and he punched Will in the stomach, making him double up.
"Hold on, there," cried Snaith. "I didn't ask you to make a bow. Wait
until you're told," and he shoved the lad's head back.
"Now you stop that!" exclaimed Will with considerable spirit.
"What's that! Hark to him talking back to us!" exclaimed Pud. "Now
you'll have to bow again," and once more he punched the new boy.
"Please let me alone!" cried Will. "I haven't done anything to you."
"No, but you might," spoke Snaith. "Have you been hazed yet?"
"Of course he hasn't," added Glen. "He came in late, and he hasn't been
initiated. I guess it's time to do it."
"Sure it is," agreed the bully with a grin. "Let's see--we'll give him
the water cure."
"That's it! Toss him in the lake and watch him swim out!" added Pud.
"Come on, Glen, catch hold!"
"Oh, no! Please don't!" begged Will.
"Aw, dry up! What you howling about?" asked Pud. "Every new boy has to
be hazed, and you're getting off easy. A bath will do you good. Let's
take him down to the float. It's real deep there."
"Oh, no! No! Please don't! Anything but that!" begged Will. "I--I can't
swim."
"Then it's time you learned," said Snaith with a brutal laugh. "Catch
hold of his other leg, Pud."
They quickly made a grab for the unfortunate lad, and, despite his
struggles, carried him toward the lake. It was not an uncommon form of
hazing, but it was usually done when a crowd was present, and the hazing
committee always took care to find out that the candidates could swim.
In addition, there were always lads ready to go to the rescue in case of
accident. But this was entirely different.
"Oh, don't! Please don't!" begged Will. "I--I don't want to go in the
water. Do anything but that."
"Listen to him cry!" mocked Glen. "Hasn't he got a sweet voice?"
Nearer to the lake approached the three bullies and their victim, who
was struggling to escape. He was pleading piteously.
"I can't stand this," murmured Jack. "Williams is afraid of water. He
told me so. It's probably a nervous dread, and if they throw him in he
may go into a spasm and drown. They should do something else if they
want to haze him."
"What are you going to do?" asked Nat. He and his chum were hidden from
the others by a clump of trees.
"I'm going to make Snaith stop!" said Jack determinedly as he strode
forward with flashing eyes. "You wait here, Nat."