“Yes, and straw, too. Put some down his neck!”
“Right you are!”
Fully a dozen students quickly provided themselves with shavings and straw, both far from clean, and made after Nat, who was walking up the river-front in the direction of the boathouse.
Before the money-lender’s son could do anything to defend himself, he found himself seized from behind and hurled to the ground.
“Now then, give it to him good!” cried a voice, and in a twinkling a shower of shavings, straw, and dirt descended upon poor Nat, covering him from head to foot.
“Hi! let up!” spluttered the victim, trying to 105 dodge the avalanche. But instead of heeding his pleadings the other students proceeded to ram a quantity of the stuff into his ears and down his collar. Nat squirmed and yelled, but it did little good.
“Now then, you are initiated into the Order of Straw and Shavings!” cried one merry student.
“Just you wait, I’ll get square, see if I don’t,” howled Nat, as he arose. Then he commenced to twist his neck, to free himself from the ticklish straw and shavings.
“Come on and have a good time, old sport!” howled one of his tormentors; and then off the crowd ran in the direction of the bonfires, leaving Nat more disgusted than ever.
“I’ll fix them, just wait and see if I don’t!” stormed the money-lender’s son to himself, and then hurried to the Hall, to clean up and make himself comfortable.