“’Tis well! Are ye now ready to subscribe to the sacred rolls, and swear forever to hold inviolate the secret of our noble order of Bang-Ups? Answer!”
“We are!” chorused Ned, Bob and Jerry.
“’Tis well. Loose their bonds and let them sign the sacred scrolls in their own blood.”
The bonds were loosed, the cloths taken from their eyes, and the three candidates found themselves in a big, brilliantly lighted room, while about them stood their laughing fellow students.
That is, all were smiling save Frank Watson, Bart Haley and Bill Hamilton, and they looked sneeringly at our heroes.
“Take the oath and sign in blood,” went on Harry French, a senior, who was the president of the society.
A drastic oath was administered, and then pens were handed the three chums, first having been dipped in some red fluid, whether blood or not was not certain. Probably it was not.
“Well, how did you like it?” asked George Fitch, grinning as he came up to shake hands with the initiates.
“Oh, it might have been worse,” said Jerry, philosophically.