"This is a beastly shame," he murmured. "Why do you dare to break into my night's rest in this fashion?"
He had heard of the mysterious society of Black Skulls before, but so far had never been hazed by the members. He looked curiously at the masked cadets, wondering if he could recognize any of them.
"Are you prepared to meet your doom?" he was asked.
"I am prepared to go back to my tent," he answered.
"Away with him!" was the cry.
"Where are you going to take me?" he asked anxiously.
There was no reply, but in a twinkling his hands were caught and bound tightly behind him, and a bag was thrust over his head and fastened around his throat. The bag was so thick that he could not see a thing before him.
"Let him take the cold water cure," said a voice, and he was forced to move forward.
"It's rather deep there," whispered a voice, just loud enough for him to hear.
"Not over his waist," whispered another voice.
"What! It's twice over his head," was the answer. "I tested the water this afternoon."
