Still all hoped. Often in the past some unexpected man had been chosen to accept the high honor of entering one of the three senior societies, and what had happened might happen again. Of course, there were men whose election seemed certain. Their society career had begun in Kappa Omicron Alpha, when they were at Andover, and had continued triumphantly through Hé Boulé or Eta Phi, the Yale sophomore societies, into Delta Kappa Epsilon, Psi Upsilon, or Alpha Delta Phi, the great junior societies of the college. It would be against all precedent to leave such men out of all three of the senior societies, and of course they felt certain that the hand of some searching senior society man would fall smartly on their backs that day.
But out of that throng of students only forty-five men could be the favored ones, fifteen to each society. The confident ones were all looking to make “Bones,” though, to tell the truth, there was some inward trepidation among them.
For Skull and Bones is the great senior society at Yale, being the oldest and richest of them all. He is not a Yale man who would prefer scholarship, honors, or prizes to membership in this society, and it is supposed that the honor falls each year to the fifteen men who stand highest as scholars, athletes, or have made brilliant records in a literary and social way.
Next to “Bones” comes Scroll and Key, generally known as “Keys,” and, after “Bones,” it gets the cream of the picking. If a man does not make “Bones,” he may feel solaced and satisfied that his great ambitions have not been entirely fruitless in case he is taken into “Keys.” Indeed, the men who make the latter society seem to convince themselves that it is the one they always preferred, and they bear themselves with the air and dignity of conquerors.
And so on this third Thursday in May all the probable and possible candidates were gathered at the fence. Freshmen and sophomores stood off and looked on, for in this ceremony they had no part.
In less than one minute after the clock struck five, a solemn senior was seen threading his way through the crowd, and all knew a “Bones” man was in search of the candidate he had been sent to notify. All eyes followed him, and an anxious hush fell on the great throng.
“It’s Gunnison!” whispered somebody, as the searcher was seen looking sharply at a man.
“No, Rice!” fluttered another. “See, he’s turned away from Gunnison.”
But he passed Rice.