Then he remembered that some of the cadets had spoken about hazing, and the cold perspiration came out on his forehead.

The gag in his mouth was made of nothing more than a knot in a clean towel, but it worried him a good deal and he was afraid he would be choked to death by it.  But nothing of the sort happened, and soon the gag was removed.

“What does this mean?” he asked, as many cadets had done before him.

He received no answer, and tried to break away from his tormentors.  But their hold on him could not be shaken, and before he was set down he found himself well out of sight and hearing of Camp Putnam, as the spot had been named.

“This is a beastly shame,” he murmured.  “Why do you dare to break into my night’s rest in this fashion?”

He had heard of the mysterious society of Black Skulls before, but so far had never been hazed by the members.  He looked curiously at the masked cadets, wondering if he could recognize any of them.

“Are you prepared to meet your doom?” he was asked.

“I am prepared to go back to my tent,” he answered.

“Away with him!” was the cry.

“Where are you going to take me?” he asked anxiously.

There was no reply, but in a twinkling his hands were caught and bound tightly behind him, and a bag was thrust over his head and fastened around his throat.  The bag was so thick that he could not see a thing before him.

“Let him take the cold water cure,” said a voice, and he was forced to move forward.

“It’s rather deep there,” whispered a voice, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Not over his waist,” whispered another voice.

“What!  It’s twice over his head,” was the answer.  “I tested the water this afternoon.”

“Never mind, he’s got to take the test anyway.”

Now Tubbs was by no means a good swimmer, and the idea of being thrown into the water with his hands tied behind him and his head in a sack was frightful in the extreme.

“Le—­let me go!” he whined.  “Let me go, I say!”

“Forward with him!” was the heartless reply, and he was pushed on until he suddenly found himself in water up to his ankles.

“Stop! stop!” he cried, in a muffled voice.  “Stop!  I don’t want to drown!”

“Will you obey your superiors?”

“Yes, yes—­anything!”

“Will you join the Order of Black Skulls?”

“Anything, I told you, only don’t let me drown!” cried the frightened William Philander.

“And will you promise to keep mum about what has happened here to-night?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Very well, you shall not be allowed to drown.  But you must take the plunge.”

“Oh, dear me!  I can’t—­”

“Forward, and be lively about it.  We will fish you out with a crab net.”

“But I—­I can’t swim with my hands tied behind me!” chattered poor Tubbs.