Of course, we had to organize a secret society, to occupy our subterranean dwelling.  In that I fear we overstepped the rules of the school.  Of course, Mr. Clark knew of our cave, in fact he visited us there once, lowering his dignity sufficiently to squeeze into the narrow passageway, and playing Bill a game of chess at our club table.  He seemed quite pleased with our work, and complimented us very highly on the masterful way in which we had built the underground house.  We told him that we had organized a club of the older fellows to play indoor games and have occasional spreads, but we did not tell him that most of our spreads were held at the dead of night, when there was no moon and the stars were hidden by clouds.  At 10 o’clock each night the bell rang for us to turn out our lights, and after that the six members would each, in turn, keep a half-hour watch, that is, first one would sit up and try to keep awake for half an hour, after which he would waken the next fellow, who at the end of a half hour would rouse the third, and so on, until 1 o’clock, when the sixth watcher would wake up the entire club.  Then we would all creep out the back window in the hall, onto the roof of the rear annex of the schoolhouse, and thence climb down a rope ladder to the ground.

Midnight Banquets.

I suppose we could have just as easily have tiptoed downstairs and out the back door, but it would have spoiled the romance of it all.  The absolute stillness and the pitch black darkness of the night were awe-inspiring.  The roll of a pebble or the crack of a twig under foot would set us all a-tingle as we stole out to our cave house.  Sometimes the night was so black that we could hardly find the entrance of the cave.  Once inside, in the light of a few candles, the nervous tension was relieved, and we reveled in a banquet of cold victuals and dainties, purchased out of the monthly club dues.  Our meetings in the cave lasted scarcely half an hour.  In fact, the meeting, and even the banquet, were mere incidentals.  The main enjoyment consisted in stealing out to the cave and back again, always at the risk of getting caught.  Usually when we got to bed again we would be too excited to fall asleep right away, and when we did finally drop off our sleep was so sound that several times the breakfast bell caught one or more of us still napping.

The Club Pin.

The only other charm our secret club afforded was the wearing of a mysterious club pin.  It was a silver beetle, with the letter G engraved on the head and the letter B on the body, while down the center of the back was the letter I (see Fig. 187).  In public we called ourselves the G. I. B.’s, but it was only the initiated members who knew that these letters were to be read backward, and, with the beetle on which they were engraved, signified the “Big Bugs.”  Of course, we had some secret signs and signals, a secret hand grasp, a peculiar whistle as a warning to run, another meaning “lie still,” and a third signifying “all is well.”