“Bring the feet up higher and more smartly, mister,” directed Dick.

Passing the rifle through every movement of the manual of arms, lifting his feet as high as he could, and yet obliged to bring them down noiselessly to the floor, Plebe Briggs quickly began to drip with perspiration.

Yet his inquisitors sat by with the judicial gravity of drill sergeants.  For ten minutes Mr. Briggs continued this grotesque work.  He knew better than to stop; it would not be wise, even, to send any appealing glances at his inquisitors.

“Halt!” called Prescott softly, at last.

Briggs stopped, holding himself at attention after he had allowed the butt of the rifle to touch the floor noiselessly.

“Mister, return Mr. Furlong’s piece.”

The plebe obeyed, wondering what next was in store for him.  Prescott noted that Mr. Briggs’s legs were trembling under him.

“That is all, for the present, mister,” announced the class sergeant.  “But you will hold yourself in readiness, in case we call you out for a soiree this evening.”

“Yes, sir,” assented the plebe.

“You may go.”

Mr. Briggs judged that he had better salute the yearling class president very carefully as he passed out with his bucket.  This he did, then hastened down the company street.

This time, when he had vanished behind his own tent flap, Mr. Briggs didn’t indulge in any grimaces or chuckles.  Instead, he made haste to get off his dripping garments and to get out others, after he had enjoyed a rub down.

“Serves me right!” muttered the plebe.  “I had been getting along first rate, with nobody bothering me.  Then I had to get that b.j. streak on this afternoon.  Now, I suppose I’m a marked plebe!”

CHAPTER III

GREG DEBATES BETWEEN GIRLS AND MISCHIEF

“Considering that you are the noble class president, who had just made us feel so ashamed over our thoughts of hazing,” muttered Mr. Furlong, “I must say, Prescott, that I don’t look upon you as any tyro at hazing.”

“This case was very different,” Dick answered quietly.  “This plebe, Briggs, was caught in a very rank piece of b.j.-ety.  We couldn’t let his offence go by.  We hazed him for a straight cause, not merely for being a plebe.  What I object to is annoying plebes simply because they are green men.”

“But what about that soiree you mentioned to the plebe?” demanded Griffin eagerly.

“I told him only to be ready if called,” Prescott made reply.  “I had no intention of bringing him over for a soiree this evening, unless the plebe does something else raw in the meantime.”