"What?" demanded Will, instantly aroused.
"I mean what I say. And there are all sorts of reports about what's to be done. Some say the faculty have decided to shut up shop for a few weeks, and some say they've sent for experts, and I don't know what all."
"Who are the fellows that are down with it?"
"Schenck—"
"Peter John?" demanded Will sharply.
"Yes, and there are seven others. He's the only freshman; there are two sophs, two juniors, and one senior. Wagner is the senior."
"Where are they?"
"They're all in the infirmary, and the whole shop has been quarantined."
"When was it found out?"
"Only to-day, this afternoon, I think. You see all eight have been under the weather for a while, and the doctor here thought it was first one thing that ailed them and then another. Last night or this morning they had a consultation, and decided that every one of the eight had typhoid fever. It's a great go, isn't it?"