"Play, neophyte," thundered Baker.
Frank was not certain whether he caught the idea or not, but after a little further hesitation, he took Rattleton by the shoulder and moved the umbrella back and forth across that young man's stomach two or three times.
"We don't hear any music!" bawled the seniors in chorus.
"Give him a black mark, then!" commanded Baker.
Out came the memorandum books, and down went another black mark against Frank's name.
"Whew!" he thought, "this won't do! I must be slow or stupid; if I don't catch on pretty soon I'll get more black marks against me than I can stand."
"Give us something that we can hear!" roared the seniors.
The three juniors who had been through it and who were still standing with their backs against the wall, were having a particularly hard time of it just now. Their lips were twitching with an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh.
Frank caught Rattleton again by the shoulder and again sawed the umbrella back and forth across his stomach, at the same time grunting in a wheezy way to imitate the sounds of a bass fiddle.
"You're out of tune!" cried one of the seniors.