There was a moment of desperate but unavailing struggling on his part; then, realizing the uselessness of his attempt, he quietly submitted to the will of his captors.
They took him from his bed, dressed him, blindfolded him, bound his wrists together, and led him down stairs and out-of-doors. It was all done so quickly and noiselessly that the slumbers of men in the adjoining rooms were not disturbed.
The victim was hurried across the rear campus and into the protecting darkness of the college grove. Here torches were lighted, and in single file the party marched through the woods, across the corner of an open field, and then into the thicker forest beyond.
At the end of half a mile they came to a shallow cave in the face of a ledge of rocks. A brawling brook ran by it, and overarching trees helped shut it in. Here they halted, and made preparations for what was to follow.
After a few moments the victim’s eyes and mouth were unbandaged. It was a grotesque sight that he looked upon. The masks and costumes of the hazers were both ludicrous and hideous. Their huge mock weapons were swung menacingly.
They arranged themselves in a semicircle about the candidate. At their backs were the mysterious shadows of the cave.
The Grand Inquisitor stepped forward, flourishing a mighty broadsword—of wood. His voice was deep and hollow.
“Before we proceed to the graver and more intense portion of the initiation,” he said, “the candidate is requested to reply to certain questions, which, being satisfactorily answered, will entitle him to pose for the first degree. The first question is: Do you admire our personal appearance? And the answer is: ‘Yes.’ The candidate will please say ‘Yes.’”
“Yes,” replied Van Loan, without hesitation.