“Why, it’s Van Horn!” exclaimed McNulty. “Having a nightmare, old chap? Wake up!”
Brick Ryan had halted just outside the tent, and taking advantage of the commotion, sought to gain his bunk unobserved. He had not intended that his captive should escape him and return thus to the tent and arouse the ire of the leader. He began shedding his garments quickly, hoping to be found peacefully snoring when Sax should waken sufficiently to take charge. But McNulty caught a glimpse of him just as he was pulling the blankets over his head, and read the situation in an instant.
“This some of your work, Brick?” he asked grimly. “There, there, calm down, Van, old man—why, you’re shaking like a leaf! What happened?”
“They hazed me!” Dirk gulped back the tears. “I’m sorry to make such a fuss, but it hurt——”
The councilor snapped on the flashlight he always kept under his pillow, and examined the haggard boy at his side. “Anything serious the matter with you? No bones broken, or anything like that?”
“I—I don’t think so, sir. I’m ashamed to act this way,” Dirk stammered bravely, “but you see, there were three of them, and they were pretty rough——”
“All right. Now, just get back to bed, and we’ll straighten things out in the morning. We’ve already roused the whole tent, so don’t make any more noise tonight.” McNulty climbed from his bunk, helped the shaking boy to his own blankets, covered him gently, and looked about the tent to assure himself that all was well. Then he crossed to where Brick Ryan lay crouched, listening furtively.
“You know what the Chief thinks about hazing, Brick,” he said sternly. “You’ll start the day tomorrow with two hours on the wood-pile.”
“All right, Sax,” the Irish boy answered sullenly. “But I didn’t know the big baby was going to run and tattle! Why didn’t he take it like a man?”
“That’s enough! Now, everybody get to sleep again. We’ve had enough riot for one night.”