Peter John’s voice rose almost to a shriek, and lifting the chair he gazed menacingly at Mott, almost as if he was minded to rush upon him.  Hawley laughed as his room-mate spoke, but Will’s face became pale and he could almost hear the beating of his own heart, so intensely excited was he.  He understood Peter John’s disposition better than any of those who were in the room, and his fear of what might follow was great.

“We’ll give you one more chance,” said Mott slowly.

“I don’t want any more chances.  I want you to get out of this room!  I didn’t ask you to come!  You’ve no right here!” shouted Peter John.

“You didn’t have to ask us,” retorted Mott.  “We came because you need us and for the good of the college.  Come, freshman, do what I tell you.”

“Don’t you come near—­” began Peter John, but the sentence was not completed.  At some unseen signal a half-dozen sprang upon him.  Before he could bring down the chair which he still was holding above his head he was suddenly seized by his adversaries, the chair was wrenched from his hands, he was thrown heavily to the floor, and in a moment his hands and feet were fast bound with cords, and he was a helpless prisoner.  Still he did not cease his struggling, but as he twisted and writhed he only drew the cords more tightly and made his own helplessness more apparent.

“I know who you are!” he shrieked.  “I’ll report you, every one!  I’ll give the whole list of your names to the president!  I’ll have you arrested!  I’ll put you in jail!  You’re a lot of thieves and low-down scoundrels!  I’ll have you put where you won’t abuse anybody any more!” Peter John’s voice rose with every fresh threat until at last it almost broke in a sob.  He was almost beside himself, and Will Phelps, though he shared in the anger of his classmate, was rejoiced that he was helpless and could not do what his desperation prompted.

“Tie your handkerchief over his mouth, Hines,” said Mott to one of his companions.  “We must hush the infant’s wailings or he’ll have the whole of Winthrop up here.  He seems to have some language besides that of the ordinary ’infant crying in the night’.”

At Mott’s direction Hines and two of his classmates at once securely bound a handkerchief about Peter John’s face, a task that was not accomplished without a desperate struggle.

“Now then, since he seems to be quieted,” said Mott at last, when his bidding had been done, “we’ll turn to the other part of the program.  Here, you freshman,” he added, turning to Will Phelps as he spoke, “step up here and take your seat beside your classmate.”

For an instant Will hesitated.  The sight of Peter John roused every instinct of combativeness which he possessed, and that was by no means small, but a laugh from Hawley restored a measure of self-possession, and quietly and without a word he seated himself on the table by the side of his friend.