"Don't, don't say that," cried Sam. "You were at Hale University for a year or two, weren't you? Did they do any hazing there?"
"Not a bit. They stopped it all long ago. The professors there say it isn't manly."
"That can't be true," said Sam, "or they wouldn't do it here. But why has it kept up here when they've stopped it at all the universities?"
"I don't know," said Cleary, "but perhaps it's wearing uniforms. I feel sort of different in a uniform from out of it, don't you?"
"Of course I do," exclaimed Sam. "I feel as if I were walking on air and rising into another plane of being."
"Well—ye-es—perhaps, but I didn't mean that exactly," answered Cleary. "But somehow I feel more like hitting a fellow over the head when I'm in uniform than when I'm not, don't you?"
"I hadn't thought of that," said Sam, "but I really think I do. Do you think they'll hit us over the head?"
"There's no telling. There's Captain Clark of the first class and Saunders of the third who are running the hazing just now, they say, and they're pretty tough chaps."
"Is that Captain Clark with the squeaky voice?" asked Sam.
"Yes, he spoiled it taking tabasco sauce when he was hazed three years ago. They say it took all the mucous membrane off his epiglottis."