Frank shook his head doubtfully. "I can all right enough, but I don't know that I will. I've a mind to give them a fight for it, anyhow."
"Not a bit of use," said the blue-eyed boy, whose name, by the way, as he presently told the others, was Ernest Linton. "Not a bit of use. They'll only beat you the harder if you fight."
"We'll see," said Frank, with a determined air. "We'll see when the time comes."
Bert and Frank found Ernest a very bright and useful friend, and they had so many questions to ask him that they were very sorry when the ringing of a bell summoned them back to their seats, where they were kept until three o'clock in the afternoon, when school was over for the day.
At home that evening Bert recounted his experiences to three very attentive listeners, and his face grew very grave when he came to tell what Ernest had said about the "hoisting." Having never witnessed a performance of this peculiar rite by which for many years it had been the custom of the school to initiate new members, Bert had no very clear ideas about it, and, of course, thought it all the more dreadful on that account. But his father cheered him a great deal by the view he took of it.
"See, now, Bert," said he. "It's just this way. Every boy in Dr. Johnston's school has been hoisted, and none of them, I suppose, are any the worse for it. Neither will you be. Take my advice and don't resist. Let the boys have it all their own way, and they'll like you all the better, and let you off all the easier."
"Very well, father, I'll do just as you say," responded Bert. "And when I come home to-morrow afternoon I'll tell you all about it." And feeling in much better spirits than he had been in all day, Bert went off to bed, and to sleep, as only a tired schoolboy in sturdy health can sleep.