“No,” Tony answered. “But I came because I didn’t want to raise a rumpus up near the School, where you might think I was scared and trying to squeal out of it.”
“So you ain’t trying to squeal now, eh?” asked Thorndyke.
“Not a bit, but I don’t intend to be hazed all the same.”
“Why, Socrates, my love, do you expect us to fight you in rotation so as to convince you of the fact that you are going to be hazed?” asked Carroll, in tones of sarcasm.
“Oh, biff him!” cried Chapin.
Tony backed a little. “I don’t expect you to fight me, no,” he answered; then like a flash he kicked off his sneakers, slipped off his coat, and cast it full into Chapin’s face, with his hands behind it, sending him sprawling over Carroll, and upsetting their fire. With a cry, he leaped upon the rocks above. “You’ve got to catch me first.”
There was a chorus of startled exclamations, and then all four started after him, leaping upon the rocks. Tony ran lightly to the farther side, and then just as Thorndyke’s face appeared over the ledge behind, he sprang into the air, off the rocks, and disappeared beneath the waters of Beaver Creek.
“Wait till the little devil comes up,” cried Marsh, standing on the brink of the rock and looking at the bubbling water. “He’ll swim across, but he can’t get back to the school without coming this way. Two of you go round by the bridge. Reggie and I’ll wait here.”
Chapin and Marsh started on a run for the bridge, which spanned the creek along a dune road about a hundred yards from the beach. Carroll and Thorndyke watched for the reappearance of Tony on the surface of the creek, but no Tony reappeared. The seconds lengthened into minutes; they heard their two companions stamping across the bridge, but not a ripple disturbed the dark waters of the creek.
“Good heavens! what’s become of him?” whispered Thorndyke.