"There! We're through with you for to-night, 'Spuddy,' old boy," said Manchester, proudly feeling his biceps. "Go sit down ... if you can," and Jimmy limped away with a muttered "thank heaven."
During a conference in undertones, amid giggling and snickering, Richard unfolded a new plan. Then he said in a loud voice,
"One of you fellows see if the surgeon is here yet. And hurry back."
Billy Dillon who had remained in trembling silence during the proceedings, received his bandage without a complaint, although his face was ashy pale, and his knees shook beneath him as Hall approached.
What did they want a doctor for? They surely wouldn't do—anything bad enough to need a surgeon. Thoughts like these went racing through his frightened mind, the sophomore leading him in terrifying darkness to a chair near by. Silence fell upon the room, and all that Billy could hear was his own excited breathing, made louder by the explosive beats of his heart.
"Swipes," he heard Hall say, "we've decided that we can't stand that pretty face of yours around, but as we like you and don't want to send you away, we will change the expression on it. A gash on each of those rosy cheeks will alter your whole appearance, so much, that not one of your lady friends will ever recognize you again. In after days, when you grow to be a man, you will thank us for this. Frank, tell Dr. Wallace to come in."
A pause ... and Billy heard the door open and close, and someone coming toward him, the person smelling strongly of drugs.
"Is this the unfortunate young man," asked a strange, but not altogether unfamiliar voice.
"Yes," Billy heard Hall answer in heartbroken tones, "and please, doctor, do the best you can for him."