Tom opened the door, and Billy Housenlager and Holly Cross stood revealed.
"Don't yell so!" cautioned Dutch. "We're going to haze that big chap—what's his name?" and he turned to Holly.
"The one from California," explained the centre rush.
"Oh, Simpson," supplied Tom. "Haze him—what for? The hazing season is over."
"Not for him," explained Dutch, with a chuckle. "You see, he arrived late, and he didn't get what was coming to him in his freshman year. So he has to take it now. Do you lads want to be in on it? If you do, don't make any noise. He's in a room nearly above you fellows, and he may suspect something and listen. Want to have some fun?"
"I don't know—do we?" and Tom turned to his companions.
They hesitated a moment, and then Phil, with a long yawn, exclaimed:
"I don't know as I care to. Too tired. You fellows can, if you like."
"Not for mine!" came quickly from Sid. "I've got some butterfly specimens to mount."
"Oh, you fellows make me tired!" declared Dutch, in accents of disgust. "Why don't you be sports? Have some fun! Come on, Tom!"
"No; if Phil and Sid are going to stay in to-
