Occasionally, to add to their pleasure, a squad of plebes is summoned and ordered to prepare for Olympus a delicious “brew.” One upper-classman who takes the rôle of Zeus directs the plebe messengers of the gods how to brew the libation. Having detailed one plebe to perform the duties of Ganymede, Zeus orders him to get his own G. I. (galvanized iron) water bucket, clean it thoroughly, squeeze the lemons, add the sugar and water, and taste it until pronounced perfect. To give the brew a proper color and add a little pungency, a bottle of grape juice is recklessly poured into the delectable drink. With the strains of the music floating over the camp and dippers full of “brew” constantly at one’s elbow, the upper-classmen reclining at their feast rival the luxury of the Romans of old. Nor are the “messengers” forgotten. They are permitted, as a reward for their services, to drink their fill from the brimming bucket. Of course, there are a few “eats” too; nothing elaborate, but oh! how good! saltines, peanut butter, and jam! Words to conjure with!
Or perhaps, a roving crowd of Yearlings, restless and filled with adventure, go from company street to company street, visiting, playing pranks and jokes, poking their heads into some plebe’s tent, almost scaring him to death by yelling:
“Mister, what’s your name.”
“Mr. Ducrot, sir!”
“Who am I?” asks the Yearling.
“I don’t know, sir!”
“What!!! don’t know who I am? Well, Mr. Ducrot, you’re pretty ignorant, you get that; you ‘bone’ me up!”
On goes the gang from one tent to another, drawn to some parts of the camp by a “brew” fight, or to another part by the tinkling of some mandolins and strumming of some guitars. From the depths of each street strong voices call out to their comrades in other companies: “Oh-h-h-h-h! Scott Fulton-n-n!” More often the night is startled by the frequent call:
“Turn out a plebe!”
Out of the tents bound a dozen plebes to find out the wishes of the Mighty One.