“Chuck that water on the floor,” said the other cadet to Tom, who emptied a pail on the tiles of the bathroom.
“Now slide!” cried the two together. Deftly they tripped Tom up. He fell rather heavily, and was given a shove that carried him across the slippery, wet floor up against the other side of the bathroom with a force that jarred the breath from him, and made him feel sick and dizzy. Tom’s head swam and black spots danced before his eyes. He feared he was going to faint, but held himself back from the brink with an effort, as he heard a sharp voice saying:
“Here! That’s enough! Don’t you know what’ll happen if you’re caught at that?”
CHAPTER IX
CAPTAIN HAWKESBURY
Tom managed to stand up, though he felt weak and dizzy. He saw rather sheepish looks on the faces of the two yearlings who had begun to haze him. Behind them stood one of the older cadets.
“You’d better go,” he said to the two hazers. Then of Tom he asked in not unkindly tone: “Are you all right?”
“Yes, sir,” Tom answered, saluting, though had it not been for the pain of bruises he would have felt like laughing, standing at attention as he was, ready for his bath.
The older cadet said nothing more. Doubtless he understood. For hazing at West Point is severely prohibited now, though doubtless a mild form goes on more or less surreptitiously.
Tom took a hot bath, which made him feel better, and when he had gone under the stinging shower he was braced up sufficiently to make him almost forget his painful bruises, for they did hurt.
Our hero did not feel any resentment against the lads who had started him on the “slide for life,” as it used to be called. It was part of the game, though a forbidden part. And Tom knew better than to make a fuss about it. His life would have been miserable from then on had he done so.