A WILD NIGHT.
A wild lot of sophomores and freshmen were celebrating the beginning of
"secret-society week," by marching round the campus at night in
lock-step style, singing rousing college songs. They danced in and out
of the dormitories, wildly cheered every building they passed, while the
classes bellowed forth their "Omega Lambda Chi."
Down by the fence by Durfee's, on the campus, in the gymnasium, at
Traeger's and Morey's and Jackson's, and wherever Yale men congregated,
almost the sole topic of conversation was of who would go to "Bones,"
"Keys," and "Wolf's Head."
The air of mystery surrounding membership in these senior societies, the
honor which their membership confers, and the fact that but a few men,
comparatively, out of any junior class can be elected to them, create an
absorbing interest.
Skull and Bones, or "Bones," as it is popularly called, is the
wealthiest and most respected. Then follows Scrolls and Keys, or "Keys,"
with Wolf's Head third in order of distinction. The names are taken from
the society pins. Each of these societies has a handsome and costly
club-house, whose secrets are no more to be arrived at than are those of
the sphinx and the pyramids.
Conjectures as to what society would get the most prominent members of
the junior class had engrossed a good deal of thought for several weeks.
Each society takes in fifteen members, or forty-five in all, out of the
two hundred and fifty or more men that usually compose the junior class.
As every junior is anxious to become a member, the feverish interest
with which the subject is regarded by the juniors may be imagined. This
interest had gradually spread throughout the college. Now the subject
suddenly leaped to such importance that it overshadowed the ball-game
which Yale was to play against Princeton, and the coming boat-race at
New London, in which the phenomenally popular Inza Burrage was to be the
mascot of the Yale crew.
Class spirit, that wildly jovial night, seemed to melt the sophomores
into a fraternizing, loving brotherhood, where discord was unknown, even
though the class contained such opposite elements as Buck Badger, Jim
Hooker, Donald Pike, Pink Pooler, the Chickering set, Porter, Cowles,
Mullen, Benson, Billings, Webb, and others. Though these might join in
class dances and marches, and howl themselves hoarse in honor of the
sophomores and of Yale, some of them could no more unite in any true
sense than oil and water.
The campus was brilliantly illuminated. Powerful calcium and electric
lights bored holes through the darkness, turning night into day. All the
windows of all the dormitories which face the campus were crowded with
students and with women.
Three of these windows held Frank Merriwell's friends. Frank was there,
with Inza, Elsie, and Winnie, together with Mrs. Hodge and Inza's
invalid father, Bernard Burrage.
"As in life, the good and the evil mingle," sighed Dismal Jones, as his
eyes fell on Jim Hooker and other honorable sophomores who were marching
in close proximity to the Chickering set. "The wheat grows up with the
tares, and the result is an everlasting bobbery."
"There will be tears in your wardrobe if you don't quit walking on me!"
squeaked Bink Stubbs.
"Climb up on a chair," advised Danny, who had already taken his own
advice, and was thus able to look down into the campus without
stretching his neck until he was in danger of converting himself into a
dromedary. "It's just great!"
"Can't be anything great for me that holds that Chickering crowd!"
Browning grumbled.
"Isn't the campus beautiful!" was Inza's enthusiastic exclamation.
It was, indeed, beautiful, for the fresh, tender green of the elms was
brought out with marvelous distinctness by the brilliant lights.
"They're kuk-kuk-kicking up an awful dud-dud-dud-dust!" stuttered Gamp,
pushing forward for a better view.
"Dust assume to crowd in front of me, base varlet?" questioned Bruce.
"I'll forgive you if you'll just take off your tall head and hold it
under your arm!"
"I s'pose naow you think that's a joke!" said Gamp.
"It's more than a dust, fellows," said Merriwell. "There is a fight on!"
Certain of the sophomores had bunched together under one of the elms,
and seemed to be struggling, as if in a contest.
"It looks as though they might be playing football," suggested Elsie.
Winnie Lee leaned anxiously out of the window, for in the center of that
knot she had seen Buck Badger. She had eagerly searched for him in the
procession, and had but found him when that indication of a wrangle came
to disturb her.
The procession seemed to be breaking up and concentrating beneath and
around the elm where that struggle was taking place. Far in front a
number of students were bellowing their "Omega Lambda Chi," but the
others had ceased to sing.
"See how great a matter a little fire kindleth!" said Dismal.
And Dismal was right. The beginning of that scramble was trivial enough.
But the trouble which it kindled was destined to outlive the moment and
seriously affect the life and fortunes of at least one of the
participants. Jones was merely grumbling one of his proverbs, without
dreaming how appropriate the words really were.
Donald Pike had been nagging and tormenting the Chickering set. He had
bumped his toes against Ollie Lord's high-heeled shoes. In the lock-step
walk he had put his hands crushingly on Tilton Hull's high choker
collar. He had pitched against and torn Gene Skelding's flaring necktie.
And he had even dared to knock off Julitan Ives' hat and disarrange his
lovely bang.
At last, in his exuberance, he seized a handful of clammy soil that was
almost the consistency of mud, and playfully tossed it at Lew Veazie. It
missed Veazie, and, by an infortuitous fate, took Buck Badger smack in
the eye. Badger, who had seen Pike's antics, clapped a hand to his eye
with a grunt of pain and astonishment.
"You scoundrel!" he bellowed. Then he lunged at Pike, with a startling
suddenness that took Donald quite off his guard and threw him headlong.
Badger believed that Pike had thrown the mud into his eye purposely.
There had been bad feeling between them, and even worse, for some time,
and the gap separating them seemed to be growing wider all the while.
Each had said exasperating and belittling things of the other, and a
wall of hate had been built up where once there had been a bond of
strong friendship. The pain in Badger's eye was excruciating, and it
rendered him for a little while absolutely reckless. Fortunately, it
also rendered him incapable of inflicting on his former friend the
punishment which his rage dictated.
For a short time affairs were exciting enough. Sophomores and freshmen
deserted the procession and leaped for the elm where the crowd was
quickly gathering. Badger threw himself on Pike, after the latter was
down, and would have proceeded to pound his face, without doubt, but
that his arms were caught and held.
It was all over within less than two minutes. Some of the Westerner's
friends held him back and began to talk some sense into him, while
Pike's friends drew him out and away.
"I reckon this isn't the end of it!" snarled Badger, flinging the words
at Pike. "There will be a beautiful settlement of this, remember."
Then he hobbled blindly out of the crowd with some acquaintances, to
have his smarting eye attended to, while the procession reformed, and
the rollicking students began again to shout their "Omega Lambda Chi."
The "beautiful settlement" came at a late hour that night. Badger
encountered Pike while the latter was on his way to his room. The
Kansan's eye still pained him, and his rage was hot. As soon as he saw
Pike he stepped across the walk and took him by the nose.
"That's the way I treat such skunks as you!" he hissed, flinging Pike
from him after offering him that deadly insult. "I want to warn you to
keep out of my way after this. If you don't, I'll treat you just as I
would a rattler!"
"You mean you will kill me!" snarled Pike, rushing at the Kansan in a
fit of blind rage.
But he was no match for Badger, who flung him off with surprising ease,
and then held him at bay and at arm's length by a clutch on his throat.
"I've a notion to choke the breath out of you!" said Badger. "Don't
tempt me too far, or I might forget myself and do it. You know that I've
got a red-hot, cantankerous temper when I get started. Now go! Git! If
you don't, I'll lift you with my shoe. And keep out of my way, unless
you want trouble!"
He pushed Pike from him with stinging scorn.
"I'll go!" said Pike. "But I'll pay you for to-night's work! See if I
don't! You'll find out that there are more ways of fighting than with
fists. You may wish that you had killed me, before you get through with
it!"
"What does the scoundrel mean by that?" the Westerner questioned,
staring at Pike as the latter hurried away. "I reckon he is mean enough
to do anything. Well, he had better have a care!"
He was soon destined to feel the effects of Pike's threat in a manner
more crushing than any knock-down, physical blow which Pike could have
delivered.