“I sure did.”
“How’d you get that bruise near your eye?” asked Nick.
“Oh—er—I—sort of fell,” stammered Sam. The bruise was where Tom had hit him.
And thus the hazing of Tom’s Freshman class passed into history.
Several weeks passed, and our hero came to like the school more and more. He made many new chums, and no more enemies, though Sam and Nick disliked him more than ever, and thought bitter thoughts, and devised endless schemes to “get even,” as they expressed it, though the debt was on their side. But, though they annoyed Tom and his chum often, the latter as often got back at them in hearty fashion.
Tom heard from his parents, that they had arrived safely, and they said the business was going on satisfactorily. The weather was getting colder each day, and the boys began to have thoughts of skating and ice boating as soon as the river should be frozen over. The football season had closed.
Then, unexpectedly, there came another clash with Professor Skeel. In Latin class one day several students came unprepared, and failed in reciting.
“We’ll stop right here!” exclaimed the professor. “It is evident to me that an organized attempt to miss in Latin is under way. I shall double the usual number of lines that you are all to write out. Perhaps that will teach you not to trifle with me.”
Several protested at this, saying that the reason for their failure was additional work in other classes. Others, who had not failed, declared that it was manifestly unfair to make them suffer with the rest.
“Silence!” snapped the professor. “You may stay here until your tasks are done,” and he prepared to leave the room, intending to send a monitor to take charge of the lads.