CHAPTER XIII

THE BANG-UPS

Jerry shot a glance at the lad who seemed deliberately trying to antagonize him. A hot reply was on the lips of the tall lad, but he held it back.

“No, I’ll give him another chance,” thought Jerry. “There’s no use in stirring up a row just because he wants to be nasty.”

Bob and Ned heard what Frank had said, but no one else appeared to have caught the words, and Jerry’s two chums wondered why he did not retort to the unnecessary and unfair remark. But Jerry explained later.

“Now then, young gentlemen, try the horse,” ordered the director. “It will be good practice for you in football and baseball. Lively now!”

The “horse” is a leather-covered affair, resembling a horse in that it has four legs but not otherwise. It is a sort of padded sawhorse more than anything else.

By means of a handle, fixed in about the place where the saddle would be on a real horse, the athlete jumps on, over and astride the horse. This the boys in the Boxwood Hall gymnasium proceeded to do, lining up and taking turns.

In this Frank showed considerable ability, while Jerry was not so good at it, making, in fact, a rather awkward appearance. And when it came Bob’s turn there was a real disaster, though a harmless one.

The stout lad made a rush for the horse, but missed getting hold of the handle. He shot over the horse, slid on the smooth leather padding and went down on the floor with a bang. He looked about him with such a comical look on his face that the instructor and the other boys burst into laughter.

“Well, Baker, you’re not training for clown-work in a circus,” remarked the instructor. “Try it again.”

Bob joined in the laugh, and when he took his place in the line for another attempt he heard Frank say sneeringly:

“Well, there are some things the fresh motor boys can’t do, it seems.”

“Oh, cut it out,” advised Bob with a forced grin. “We don’t claim to be anything like what you seem to think we are.”

“Don’t get into a row,” advised Jerry in a low voice.

“If he insults me I--I’ll punch him!” declared Ned in a whisper.

“No you won’t,” contradicted Jerry.

“If he wants to--let him try it!” said Frank, quickly. “That’s a game I like to play.”

“Silence over there!” called the director, sharply, while Ned and Frank glared at one another.

Ned made no awkward breaks, so there was no excuse for Frank’s making any of his slurring remarks, and the remainder of the gymnasium practice went off without further incident.

“Say, I wonder what’s got into him?” asked Bob, as he and his chums were proceeding toward the dormitory after the practice. “He seems just to hate us--he and those fellows he goes with. I wonder why?”

“He hasn’t any real excuse,” said Jerry, “but I imagine it is just as he says. Frank and his chums are afraid we’ll try to show off, because Professor Snodgrass told them about our various adventures. I never thought they’d be held against us.”

“Nor I,” added Ned. “But this Watson is going to make trouble, I can see that. And the sooner the better.”

“Why?” asked Bob.

“To have it over with. We’ll have to fight him.”

“Oh, I guess not,” said Jerry. “We’ll try and not roil him.”

“But why should we go out of our way to take insults, just because this fellow doesn’t like us?” asked Ned.

“Remember we’re freshmen,” said Bob.

“That’s all right. The other sophs don’t pick on us the way he and his bunch do. I’m not going to stand it!”

“Go slow,” advised Jerry.

For a week or more after this there were no open clashes between Frank and his cronies and our three chums. On occasions, as they passed in the hall, Frank, Bart and Bill would laugh sneeringly or pass some slurring remark, but that was the extent of it. On the other hand Jerry, Bob and Ned made friends among the other lads in the various classes.

And right here the point might be emphasized once more that at Boxwood Hall there was not the sharp line drawn against freshmen in athletics and other matters that there is in some of the other colleges.

It is true that the freshmen were hazed and not allowed to appear on certain parts of the campus sacred to the sophomores, juniors and seniors. And there were some strictly class societies in which the membership was limited. But there were also secret organizations which were made up indiscriminately of members of all four classes.

In athletics, as has been said, there was also no tight line drawn. In big colleges, of course, freshmen are not eligible for the varsity, but at Boxwood Hall, where there was a limited number of students, in order to increase the available supply of players the freshmen were drawn upon. Thus it was that the nine and eleven had freshmen on, as well as sophomores, juniors and seniors. Nor were the freshmen obliged to refrain from residence in dormitories where their “betters” were housed, though there were some fraternity houses sacred to certain classes alone.

Football practice went on, and the more our three friends watched it, the more they wished they had made themselves fit to be candidates for the eleven. But it was too late now.

“I’m going to get into it next season though!” declared Jerry, while Ned and Bob echoed his words. “It’s great!”

This was on one of the occasions when Boxwood Hall played an old-time rival and won in a hard-fought battle. Another time she was not so successful, and lost to a college she had always beaten.

“But if we win from the military academy, I won’t have any regrets,” declared Ted Newton. “That’s the bunch I want to beat!”

“You’re going to get yours all right to-night,” was the word passed to Ned, Bob and Jerry one afternoon, following a lecture on zoology.

“Our what?” asked Ned.

“Hazing,” was the answer.

“Well, we’ll take all that’s coming,” said Bob. “We’ve got to expect it, I suppose.”

“And you may get more than you expect,” the informer went on.

It was rather a rough hazing, for our heroes were hauled out of their rooms by a crowd of the sophomores, headed by Frank Watson, and made to do all sorts of ridiculous things, one of which was to stand in the public square in Fordham and eat cream puffs and chocolate eclaires with their hands tied behind their backs.

Then, in this state, with smeared faces, they were obliged to appear at a moving picture show, marching up and down the aisles while the lights were turned up.

As a climax they were ducked in the campus fountain basin and then pelted with more or less over-ripe fruits and vegetables as they were allowed to return to their rooms.

“Whew!” gasped Bob, “we are some sights.”

They were indeed, their suits being ruined. But they had taken the precaution to wear old ones, thanks to the tip.

“Well, I’m glad it’s over,” remarked Jerry.

“Same here,” added Ned. “And when our boat comes we’ll have some good times to make up for this hazing.”

The _Neboje_ arrived and was launched on Lake Carmona. The possession of the motor boat brought new friends to our heroes, and they took many of their college chums on short cruises, once remaining out all night because of engine trouble when they reached the upper end of the lake.

Proctor Thornton had it in mind to punish severely the luckless ones, but when Jerry explained matters, and when Professor Snodgrass had put in a good word for the boys they were excused, but warned not to take such chances again.

“Say, fellows, don’t you want to join the Bang-Ups?” asked George Fitch one day of Ned, Bob and Jerry. This was when George had been taken out for a motor boat ride.

“The Bang-Ups?” asked Ned. “Is that something good to eat?”

“It’s a secret fraternal society,” answered George, looking carefully about to make sure he was not overheard. “It’s the most exclusive in the college, but freshmen are eligible when voted in. I’ll propose you if you like.”

“Sure, we’d like it!” declared Bob.

“There’s one thing, though,” went on George. “The initiation is a pretty stiff one. Lots of the fellows get hurt--not badly, of course, but some.”

“You can’t scare us that way,” laughed Jerry. “We’ve been in some pretty tight places ourselves.”

“We’ll take a chance,” added Bob.

“Does Frank Watson and his crowd belong?” Ned demanded.

“Oh, yes,” was the reply.

“They’ll never vote to let us in.”

“It’ll take more than their votes to keep you out, though, as a rule, the elections have been unanimous. But it takes ten black ballots to turn a candidate down, and at best Frank and his crowd number nine.”

At the next meeting of the Bang-Ups the names of our friends were proposed. And Frank Watson, Bart Haley, Bill Hamilton and several others opposed them.

But George Fitch, Chet Randell, Lem Ferguson and, best of all, Ted Newton, the football captain, championed the cause of our friends to such advantage that they were elected, only seven votes against them--not the necessary number.

“Of course, I’d like to have had it unanimous,” said George, in telling Jerry about the matter afterward. “But don’t let that worry you, and perhaps Frank will change his tactics toward you.”

“I don’t care much whether he does or not,” Jerry remarked. “I wish there weren’t any feeling against us, especially as I know there is no cause for it, but the Bang-Ups is worth getting into, even if we didn’t make it unanimously.”

“Glad you think so,” remarked George. “And now comes the initiation.”