CHAPTER XXIV. — AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE.
After dinner Sam and his roommate took a walk. As they passed the Boston theater, Abner proposed going in; but Sam knew very well that the expense of both tickets would come upon him, and declined.
"I am tired," he said; "I've been walking about all day, and, besides, I got up very early in the morning. I would rather go home and go to bed."
"Lend me a dollar, and I'll go," said Abner. "I don't feel sleepy."
"Not much," answered Sam. "When you've got your money, it will be time enough to go to the theater; but if you haven't got any more than I have, you'd better not go to the theater much."
The reader may be surprised at such sensible advice proceeding from Sam; but he had begun to feel the responsibilities of life more keenly than ever before. For the first time, too, he saw how foolish he had been in the past, and felt an eager desire to win a respectable position. He was sanguine and hopeful, and felt that it was not too late to turn over a new leaf.
"All right," said Abner. "I can wait till another evening, but I thought I'd like to go to the theater, seein' as I never went there."
"Never went to the theater!" exclaimed Sam, with a gratifying sense of superiority. "I've been ever so many times in New York."
"I've been to the circus," said Abner. "There was one come round last summer to our place. Is the theater any like the circus?"
"No," said Sam; "but the circus is pretty good. I like to see it myself. You miss a good many things by living in the country."
"Did you ever live in the country?" inquired Abner.
"A good many years ago," answered Sam. "The fact is, I was born there, but I got tired of it and went to New York."
Presently fatigue overpowered Sam, and he announced his intention of returning to the boarding-house, and going to bed.
"I won't go yet," said Abner. "I'll be along pretty soon."
Sam did not lie awake long after once getting into bed. The early hour at which he had risen on the boat, and the miles he had traveled during the day were too much for him, and he sank into a dreamless sleep.
At eleven o'clock Abner Blodgett opened the door and softly entered.
He approached the bed on tiptoe, fearing to wake Sam.
"Poor fool!" he muttered, smiling disagreeably; "he thinks I am a verdant rustic, while I am able to turn him round my little finger. There's nothing about city life that I don't know. I can give him points and discount him as far as that goes, even if he has been living in New York for years. Fast asleep!" he continued, listening to Sam's regular breathing. "No danger of his waking up till morning. I may as well see what money he's got."
He coolly felt in Sam's pocket, and drew out his pocket-book, eagerly examining the contents.
"Only ten dollars and a half!" he muttered, in disappointment. "That hardly pays me for my trouble. However, it's better than nothing. Let me see if there is anything more."
But this appeared to be all the money Sam possessed, and he put it in his pocket, grumbling.
"I guess it'll be safe for me to go to bed, and sleep till near morning," Abner said to himself. "The boy sleeps soundly, and he won't be awake till six or seven."
He proved to be correct. Sam slept like a log, and was not conscious when, at a quarter of six, Abner hurriedly dressed, and left the house with all of poor Sam's available funds.
"It's a pity he payed for his board in advance," thought Abner. "I would have got seven dollars more. It's money thrown away."
Abner hoped to get out of the house without being seen by any one, but he was destined to be disappointed.
As he was slipping out of the front door the landlady herself came downstairs.
"You are going out early, Mr. Blodgett," she remarked, in some surprise.
"Yes, ma'am," said Abner. "I'm used to gettin' up early in the country. I'm goin' to take a walk before breakfast."
"Your young friend thought he wouldn't go out with you?"
"He got pretty tired yesterday. He's sound asleep."
"There's something about that man I don't like," thought Mrs. Campbell. "I don't believe he's so verdant as he pretends to be. He must pay me something on account to-day, or I won't keep him."
"Good-by old woman!" muttered Abner, as he closed the door, and entered the street. "I don't care about seeing you or your house again. I shall get my breakfast somewhere else."
Mr. Blodgett walked rapidly till he reached a shabby-looking brick tenement house not far from Dover Street. This he entered with a pass-key, and going up to a room which he generally occupied, proceeded to change his clothes for others more comfortable to city style. This alone changed his appearance greatly; but not satisfied with this, he took from a bureau drawer a black silky mustache and carefully attached it to his upper lip. Then he looked complacency in the glass, and said, with a smile: "I think my young friend from New York won't recognize me now. If we meet, and he suspects anything, I can easily put him off the scent."
Sam woke up about seven o'clock. He opened his eyes, and looked about him in momentary bewilderment, not immediately remembering where he was. As recollection dawned upon him, he looked for Abner Blodgett, but nothing was to be seen of him. The appearance of the bed, however, showed that he had occupied it.
"He has got up," thought Sam. "I wonder if it is very late."
A church clock began to strike, and he counted the strokes.
"Seven o'clock!" he said. "Well, that isn't very late, but I may as well get up. I've slept like a top all night long. I suppose I was sound asleep when my roommate came to bed. I guess he's gone to take a walk before breakfast."
Sam jumped out of bed and began to dress. As he was drawing on his pants, he thrust his hand mechanically into his pocket to feel for his money. He did so without the faintest suspicion of his loss. When he discovered that his pocket-book was not in its usual place he grew anxious and hurriedly examined his other pockets.
But in vain!
Then he looked on the floor. Possibly it might have slipped out of his pocket and be lying on the carpet. Again his search was vain.
Then, for the first time, suspicion of his roommate entered his mind. Sam was no stranger to the tricks and wiles of a large city, and he saw clearly now how he had been cheated.
"It's that skunk Abner Blodgett!" he exclaimed, indignantly. "He's regularly done me! I'll bet he's no more a countryman than I am. I just wish I had him here. I'd pound him."
Sam was indignant, but not discouraged. He did not give up his money for lost yet. He determined to seek Abner everywhere, and unmask him when found. If he did not recover his money it would not be for want of trying.
As he finished dressing the breakfast-bell rang and he went down to the dining-room.
Though he had lost his money he had not lost his appetite.
When he entered the dining-room he found himself first in the field.
"Good-morning, Mr. Barker," said the landlady. "You are early, but not so early as Mr. Blodgett. He left the house a little before six."
"Did you see him?" asked Sam, eagerly.
"Yes, and spoke with him."
"What did he say?"
"He said he was used to getting up early in the country, and was going out for a walk. Hasn't he returned?"
"No," answered Sam, "and I don't believe he will."
"What makes you say that?" asked the landlady, noticing a significance in his tone.
"I mean that he's gone off with all my money," said Sam, bluntly.
"You don't say so!" ejaculated the landlady. "Why, I thought he was more likely to be taken in himself. Wasn't he from the country?"
"That's what he said; but I don't believe it. I think he was in disguise."
"I thought he was an old friend of yours."
"I never saw him before yesterday. He came up to me in the Parker House yesterday morning."
"What wickedness there is in the world, I do declare! Did he take all your money?"
"Every cent," said Sam. "I'm glad I paid you a week in advance, or I should be badly off."
"I wouldn't have turned you out, Mr. Barker," said the landlady, kindly. "I have a hard time to get along myself, and it makes me sympathize with them that has had ill luck."
Good Mrs. Campbell was not quite grammatical, but she was kind-hearted, and that is better.
"Thank you," said Sam; "but all the same I'm glad you've got the seven dollars instead of Blodgett. I'm going to try to find him, and if I do I'll have the money back, unless he has spent it all."
"Be careful, Mr. Barker. He's stronger than you are, and he might do you some harm."
"I'll risk it," said Sam, who, with all his defects, was not wanting in courage. "I want nothing better than to come across him."
CHAPTER XXV. — IN PURSUIT OP A PLACE.
Sam was more angry than discouraged when he reflected upon the imposition which had been practiced upon him. His indignation was excited when he considered how his confidence had been betrayed. Presently it occurred to him that Abner had served him no worse than he intended to serve his roommate in New York. The thought made him ashamed.
"I didn't think I was acting so mean," he said to himself. "I am glad Henry didn't lose anything by me."
Another thought followed, and one which inspires confidence in Sam's reformation: "I'd rather have the money stolen from me than steal it from somebody else."
It was quite true that Sam's conscience had become more sensitive than formerly. His meeting with Julia Stockton on board the Fall River boat had kindled in him a new and honorable ambition to attain a respectable position in society. In a strange city, separated from his street acquaintances, it really seemed as if he stood some chance of realizing his hope, when he was met at the outset with this discouraging loss.
But Sam was not discouraged. He had been dependent upon his own resources for too many years to give up easily. Moreover, he was hopeful and sanguine by temperament, and determined to make the best of his position. There was this to encourage him. He had paid a week's board in advance, and therefore was sure of regular meals, and a comfortable lodging for six days to come. In that time he might get a situation.
"As you are alone, Mr. Barker," said Mrs. Campbell, "I am afraid I must put you into the single room. I may have opportunities to let this to two persons."
"All right," said Sam, "but I have only paid seven dollars. You said you should expect eight for the small room."
"No matter about that for this week," said the landlady. "You have been unfortunate, and I will take that into consideration."
"Thank you. When I'm a rich merchant I'll make it up to you."
"I hope you will become one, for your own sake," said Mrs. Campbell, smiling.
When breakfast was over, Sam strolled out into the streets. He felt that the sooner he got something to do the better. Certainly in his situation there was no time to lose. He had found out that the leading retail stores were on Washington Street, and it seemed to him a good plan to begin there.
The first he selected was a dry-goods store. He entered, and looked about him, inquiringly. A salesman asked him, briskly: "What can I show you to-day?"
"If you'll show me a situation where I can make a living, you'll oblige me," answered Sam.
"We don't keep such goods for sale," said the salesman, smiling.
"Then perhaps you give them away. Can I speak to the boss?"
"There he is," said the young man—"at the end of the store."
"What is his name?"
"Hunter."
Sam was not bashful. He went up to Mr. Hunter and called him by name.
"Can I speak to you on business?" he asked.
"What kind of business?"
"I want a place," said Sam, bluntly.
"We are not engaging any new clerks at present. Where do you live?"
"I have just come from New York."
"Did you have any experience there in the dry-goods line?"
"No, sir."
"Then you know nothing about it."
"Oh, yes, sir; I can tell calico from silk."
"That's more than I can always do," said Mr. Hunter, jocosely. "I took you for silk, and I find you to be calico."
"You've got me there," said Sam. "Then you can't give me anything to do?"
"I don't think it would be for my advantage to engage you. Do you think so?"
"I think it would be for mine," said Sam. "I guess I will look further."
"I am afraid I don't know much about business," thought Sam. "I wish I knew what I am fit for, and I'd go for it."
He kept on his way down Washington Street, and entered the next large store, where he repeated his request for a place. Here he was not so well treated.
"Clear out, you young loafer!" was the rude response.
"Thank you," said Sam, coolly. "You're extremely polite."
"I don't waste my politeness on such fellows as you," said the clerk, disagreeably.
"I wouldn't," retorted Sam. "You don't seem to have any to spare."
"I guess I don't stand much chance there," he considered. "I wouldn't want to be in the same store with that hog, anyway."
The next store was devoted to millinery. Just outside was a small piece of paper on which Sam read "Little Girl Wanted."
He went in. Those in charge of the store he found to be females.
"You've got a notice in the window for help," said Sam.
"Yes," was the reply. "Do you want it for your sister?"
"I think not," replied Sam. "I haven't any sister, to begin with."
"Then what is your business?"
"I want a place for myself."
"Did you read the notice? It says 'Little Girl Wanted.' Are you a little girl?"
"Not that I am aware of," said Sam; "but I can do a little girl's work."
"Perhaps you would not be willing to take a little girl's pay."
"How much is the pay?"
"Two dollars a week."
"Declined with thanks," said Sam, promptly. "I don't like to disappoint you, but that wouldn't pay for my wardrobe."
The lady smiled. "I'm sorry I can't do anything for you," she said, amused.
"So am I," said Sam.
Presently he discovered a sign, "Boy Wanted," and this inspired in him some hope. He entered, and made known his wishes.
"You are altogether too large," said a brisk-looking man, eying him rapidly. "We want a boy of twelve."
"Can't I do as much as a boy of twelve?" asked Sam.
"Probably you can. Do you reside with your parents?"
"No, sir."
"Where do you live?"
"I board on Harrison Avenue."
"How much do you pay for board?"
"Seven dollars a week."
"Have you any means of your own?"
"No."
"Then you don't want a situation with us. We give only three dollars a week."
By this time Sam began to feel a little despondent.
There were situations for small girls and small boys, but none for him.
"Why didn't I stay a small boy?" he reflected.
But, after all, it is a question whether three dollars would defray the expenses of even a small boy.
"Boston don't seem to be much of a business place, after all," thought Sam; but, perhaps, it was hardly fair to draw such a conclusion from his own failure to procure a situation. Sam made one or two more ineffectual applications, which did not tend to improve his spirits. As he came out of the last one, he saw, to his great joy, Julia Stockton passing by. She recognized him at the same moment.
"Good-morning, Mr. Barker," she said, frankly, holding out her hand. "Are you out shopping this morning?"
"It'll be some time before I go shopping," said Sam.
"Why so?"
"I had all my money stolen last night."
"You did! What a shame! Tell me all about it," said Julia, sympathizingly.
Sam told his story, the young lady showing her warm sympathy in her expressive face.
"How will you get along without money?" she asked.
"I must get a place right off," said Sam.
"If—if you wouldn't mind," said Julia, in an embarrassed tone, "I have five dollars that I have no use for. Won't you let me lend it to you?"
Sam, to his credit be it spoken, declined the tempting proposal.
"I am just as much obliged to you, Miss Julia," he said, "but I can get along somehow. I have got my board paid for a week in advance, and something will turn up in that time, I am sure."
"Won't you take it, then? I really don't need it," said Julia, earnestly.
"If I get very hard up, I'll remember your kind offer," said Sam.
"You'll be sure to do it, Sam?"
"Yes, I'll be sure."
"I must bid you good-morning now," said Julia. "I'm going into Loring's Library to get a new book. Here it is, close by. I am glad I met you."
"Thank you," said Sam.
"Don't forget to call at the house. Mamma will be glad to see you."
"I would feel more like calling, if I had a place," thought Sam, soberly. "She's a bully girl and no mistake, but I wouldn't like to take money from her. It's the first time I ever refused five dollars that I can remember."
CHAPTER XXVI. — ABNER BLODGETT AGAIN.
The next day in his wanderings Sam entered the Parker House. He had no definite object in view, but, feeling tired, thought he would sit down a few minutes in the reading-room.
"This is where that fellow roped me in," he thought. "I wish I could get hold of him."
After sitting for quarter of an hour, he strolled downstairs into the billiard room. He stood on the threshold for a moment, when a familiar voice struck his ear. His heart beat rapidly with excitement, for he recognized it as the voice of Abner Blodgett. He glanced eagerly about to find him, but he could see no one resembling the young man from the country who had victimized him.
"I don't believe two voices can be so much alike," he said to himself. "I must look more carefully."
The voice was heard again, and this time Sam perceived that the speaker was playing billiards on the second table to the right. But it did not appear to be Abner. His personal appearance was very different, and he had a black mustache. But when Sam scanned the upper part of the face, he saw a strong resemblance. He suspected the truth at once, Abner was disguised.
"He's spending my money," said Sam to himself, indignantly. "No wonder he can afford to play billiards when he gets his money so easy. I won't lose sight of him."
By this time Abner—for it was he—had finished his game, and laid down his cue. He had no money to pay, for he had beaten his adversary. He sauntered up to the door, and was about to pass Sam, whom he had not noticed, when our hero laid his hand upon his arm.
"I want to speak to you, Mr. Blodgett," he said, "on very particular business."
Abner started when he recognized Sam, and changed color slightly, but immediately his disguise occurred to him, and he decided to brazen it out.
"Excuse me, sir," he answered, coolly. "Did you address me?"
He changed his voice as well as he could in uttering these words, and this confirmed Sam's previous suspicion.
"I said I should like to speak to you on business, Mr. Blodgett," Sam repeated, in an emphatic tone.
"You have made a mistake in the person," said Abner, shrugging his shoulders. "My name is not Blodgett."
"And I suppose your first name is not Abner?" said Sam.
"Certainly not."
"Well, all I can say is, you have changed your name within two days."
"Come out into the street, and I will talk to you," said Abner, not wishing the conversation to be heard.
Sam followed him upstairs, and they went into School Street together.
"What did you say my name was?" asked Abner, with an air of amusement.
"Abner Blodgett."
"Ha, ha! that's a capital joke—the best I've heard lately."
"You told me you were from the country," Sam continued.
"Really, I should think you must be from the country yourself, to make such a mistake."
"I am from the city of New York, if you call that the country," said Sam, in rather an important tone.
"I am sorry for you, but you've made a great mistake about me, my dear young friend. My name is John Warburton, and I am a student of Harvard College, in Cambridge. I only just came into Boston this morning. I haven't been here before for a week."
He spoke so volubly and confidently that Sam was staggered for a minute. Was it possible that he was mistaken, after all? Was this really a Harvard student, whose voice happened to resemble that of Abner Blodgett? Abner saw that he was mystified, and a gleam of exultation appeared in his face. When Sam detected this, he felt sure that he had got the right man, after all. Abner even ventured to ask: "Why do you wish to see this Abner Blodgett, whom I have the honor of resembling?"
"Because," said Sam, bluntly, "he stole my money."
"Stole your money!" repeated Abner, with mock indignation. "Do you dare to take me for a thief—me, a Harvard student, belonging to one of the first families! Why, it is an insult and an outrage! I have a great mind to chastise you."
"I don't know whether you belong to one of the first or one of the second families," answered Sam, unterrified; "and I don't believe you are a Harvard student at all. Just give me back them ten dollars you stole out of my pocket or I'll make it hot for you."
"You young scamp!" said Abner, now really angry; "you've insulted me long enough. Now, clear out, or I'll kick you!"
"Kick away," said Sam; "but first give me my money."
"This is an outrage," said Abner, who noticed the approach of a policeman; "but if you are really in want I'll give you fifty cents, though you don't deserve it."
"I don't want your fifty cents, I want the money you stole from me," persisted Sam, who was not to be bought so cheap.
"For Heaven's sake, hush!" said Abner, nervously. "One of the professors is inside, and I am afraid he'll come out and hear you. Here's the fifty cents."
"That won't go down, Mr. Blodgett," said Sam. "How much of my money have you got left?"
By this time the policeman was within hearing distance. Sam saw him now, and determined to press his claim vigorously.
"I'll complain to that policeman," he said, "if you don't give up my money."
"Hush!" said Abner. "Wait till he goes by, and we'll arrange it."
"No, we won't," said Sam, stoutly. "Do you want me to call him?"
The policeman was now passing them. He glanced casually at the pair, rather to the discomfort of Abner, whose face was not wholly unknown to the force.
"What do you say?" demanded Sam, in a significant tone.
"I'll lend you five dollars," said Abner, desperately. "It's all I've got now."
"Hand it over, then," said Sam, who had not expected to get back so much of the stolen property.
Abner drew out a bill from his pocket, and passed it over.
"Is that all you've got left, Mr. Blodgett?" asked Sam.
"Don't call me Blodgett. It isn't my name. I told you my name was John Wharton, of Harvard College."
"You said Warburton five minutes since," said Sam, dryly.
"You didn't understand me," said Abner, rather embarrassed. "The names sound alike."
"I don't believe any of the names belong to you. Now, when are you going to pay the rest of that money?"
"I told you I knew nothing of your money," said Abner.
"Then why did you give me that five dollars back?"
"Out of charity."
"Then I wish you'd give me a little more out of charity."
"I have only enough to get me back to Cambridge."
"By the way, Mr. Blodgett," said Sam, slyly, "what do you use to make your mustache grow so quick?"
"Nothing at all. What makes you ask?"
"When I saw you two days ago you had none. It's grown pretty well for so short a time."
"I can't stop talking with you any longer. I must go out to Cambridge. I have a recitation in Latin in two hours."
"May I go out with you? I would like to see the college."
"Can't see it to-day," said Abner. "It isn't open to the public on Saturday."
"That's strange. I can go to Cambridge, can't I?"
"If you want to; but there isn't anything to see except the college."
"He don't want me to find him out," thought Sam. "I'm bound to go if he goes."
"I guess I'll go," he said, quietly. "Come along."
Abner unwillingly started with his unwelcome companion, and walked slowly to Bowdoin Square.
"There's the cars," he said, "just in front of the Revere House. Jump in, and I'll be with you in a minute."
As he said this he dodged round a corner and Sam found himself alone.
"Just as I expected," thought he. "That fellow isn't a Harvard student any more than I am. I'm lucky to get back part of my money. Perhaps I'll get the rest out of him some time."
He got into the car which had been pointed out to him and inquired of the driver: "Does this car go to Harvard College?"
"It is a Mount Auburn car, but you can get out at Harvard Square."
"I guess it's all right," said Sam to himself. "I might as well go out and see Harvard, as I've got nothing else to do."
CHAPTER XXVII. — SAM IS INITIATED INTO A COLLEGE SOCIETY.
Before Sam reached Harvard Square he caught sight of the college yard and the numerous buildings of brick and stone which had been erected within it for the accommodations of the students.
"It's a pretty big place," thought Sam. His ideas of a college were very vague. He had fancied that it consisted of one large brick building, like the New York public schools.
"I wonder what they want of so many buildings, anyway?" said Sam to himself. "There must be a lot of students."
He got out at Harvard Square, and crossing the street entered the college yard, or campus, as it is sometimes more ambitiously called. There were very few students about, for it was Saturday, when there was a morning exercise only, and, the rest of the day being a holiday, many of the students were accustomed to go to Boston, or to visit their friends elsewhere. Sam knew nothing of this, and was surprised to see so few young men about.
Now it happened that three sophomores, having nothing more important to occupy their attention, had made up their minds, by way of a lark, to play a trick on some freshman, who, from inexperience, looked like an easy victim. For convenience's sake I will call them Brown, Jones and Robinson.
As these three young men were walking arm-in-arm in front of University Hall, they saw Sam approaching. Of course, where the classes are so large, it is impossible for all to be personally acquainted, which accounts for their instantly mistaking Sam for a freshman.
"There's a fresh," said Brown. "He looks green enough for our purpose. Suppose we take him?"
"All right," said Jones. "He'll do."
Sam was rather surprised when the three college boys stopped and Brown addressed him.
"What is your name, sir?"
"Barker," answered Sam.
"All right!" said Robinson, in a low voice. "There's a Barker in the freshman class. I've noticed his name in the catalogue."
"I believe, Mr. Barker," said Brown, "that you belong to the freshman class."
"That's a good joke," said Sam to himself. "I'll see it through."
He was not a little flattered at being mistaken for a collegian, and nodded assent.
"We have heard of you, Mr. Barker," said Jones, in the most favorable manner. "We belong to the senior class, and at our last meeting we elected you unanimously a member of the Alpha Zeta Society."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Sam, really astonished.
"We have inquired of the faculty concerning your scholarship, and have been told that you are one of the best scholars in the class."
"If that's so," thought Sam, "the class don't know much."
"There are plenty that know more than me," said Sam, aloud.
"All your modesty, Mr. Barker," said Robinson. "We are convinced that you are a first-class man, and will be an acquisition to our society."
"What does it all mean?" Sam began to wonder.
"We are a committee of the society appointed to initiate you by the usual impressive ceremonies," said Brown. "It is very fortunate we have met with you, for Saturday is our day for initiations."
"Is it?"
"Yes; have you any particular engagement for the next hour?"
"Not as I know of."
"Then we will at once proceed to the society room and take you to the initiation. Are you ready?"
"I haven't made my will yet," said Sam, humorously.
The three sophomores looked at each other doubtfully. Perhaps their intended butt was not as verdant as they supposed.
"That formality is not necessary," said Jones, after a pause, "unless you desire to leave any money to the society."
"I guess I'll join first, and see how I like it," said Sam.
"Quite reasonable," said Brown, in a tone of satisfaction.
"We'd better not lose any time," said Robinson.
"Follow us, Mr. Barker," said Brown.
"All right, gentlemen."
Robinson offered his arm, and the four proceeded to one of the older college halls, and ascended to a room on the third floor.
"Ain't they sold, though!" thought Sam, with an inward chuckle. "They think I'm a student, and I'll find out all about their society—I can't think of the outlandish name."
The door was locked, and then Brown said: "Mr. Barker, you will not object to be blindfolded, of course."
"Go ahead," said Sam. "If that's the regular thing, I'm agreeable."
He was blindfolded by Brown and seated in the center of the room. He heard various movements, lasting for perhaps five minutes. Then the bandage was removed, and Sam saw that his three companions were metamorphosed. All wore masks. The light of day had been shut out, and four candles were burning on the table. In the center was a skull, and beside it was a large book, a photograph book, by the way.
"Barker," said one of the masked figures in a sepulchral voice, "do you desire to join our mystic band?"
"You bet!" answered Sam.
"No levity," was the stern reply. "Before you are admitted you must swear solemnly not to divulge the secrets of the association."
"I won't," said Sam.
"'Tis not enough. You must swear!"
"All right, I swear."
"Kiss this book, and swear with uplifted hand."
Sam did so.
"Do you know what will be the penalty if you violate the oath?"
"I'll be 'bounced,' I expect."
"Worse than that. Do you see this skull?"
"Yes, I do."
"It is the skull of a freshman who joined our society five years since, and divulged the secrets."
"What did he die of?" asked Sam.
"He disappeared," said Brown, impressively. "He was found dead in his bed one morning, with a dagger in his heart."
"You don't say so!" said Sam, impressed in spite of himself.
"It was a fitting punishment. Don't incur it."
"I won't," said Sam. "I don't know anything to tell anyway."
"You shall know all. Our society was founded hundreds of years ago by the emperor Charlemagne."
This didn't impress Sam as much as was expected, since he had never heard of the Emperor Charlemagne.
"Kings, nobles, prime ministers have belonged to our mystic ranks," proceeded Brown.
"Then I wonder they elected me in?" thought Sam.
"That book," indicating the photograph album, "contains the records of the society."
"May I look into it?"
"No," said Jones, hurriedly, laying his hand upon the book. "The time may come, but not yet."
"Just as you say," said Sam, submissively. "I'm in no hurry."
"Bandage his eyes once more," said Brown.
Robinson advanced, and tied a handkerchief over our hero's eyes.
"Now stand up."
Sam stood up.
Brown proceeded to read a chorus from Euripides, which impressed Sam as much as anything yet, for the Greek seemed but a strange and barbarous jargon to his unaccustomed ears.
"Do you understand what I have said?" asked Brown, at the close of his reading.
"Not entirely," said Sam,
"Then your education has been neglected. But it matters not. Raise him."
Jones and Robinson proceeded to lift Sam, one by the head, the other by the heels, rather to his alarm.
"What's your game?" he demanded, resisting.
"No harm is intended. It is one of the necessary formalities."
"Go ahead, then."
The two students bore Sam about the room, chanting discordantly as they went. At length they set him down again in a chair. Then Brown passed his hand several times over Sam's face, explaining that this was one of the necessary formalities also. Then the bandage was taken off, and a Greek book was handed to Sam.
"We will test your scholarship," said Brown. "Read."
Sam stared at the Greek page in bewilderment, turning the book upside down, but not finding it any more intelligible.
"I can't read this stuff," he said.
"You need not render it into English," said Brown. "Pronounce it in the original."
"I can't," said Sam, helplessly.
The three looked at each other.
"You can't read Greek?" said Brown.
"Of course I can't."
"Then how did you get into college?"
"I walked in."
"I mean, how could you be admitted without knowing Greek?"
"I wasn't admitted. I never was here in my life before."
"What! Are you not Barker, of the freshman class?" asked the three sophomores in chorus.
"My name is Barker—Sam Barker—but I don't belong to any class."
"What made you say you did?"
"Just for fun."
"Sold!" exclaimed the three in concert. "I guess this has gone far enough," said Brown. "Let's unmask."
Masks were removed, the curtains raised, Sam was invited to wash his face, which Brown, in his manipulations, had blacked, and there was a hearty laugh all round. Sam was invited to tell his story and did so. The three students were wealthy, and took up a contribution for his benefit, amounting to ten dollars.
"I'll come round another day for half price," said Sam, humorously.
"The next time we initiate a freshman, it'll be the genuine article. All the same, we've had some fun. Won't you stay and dine with us? We shall have dinner in an hour."
"Thank you," said Sam, "I'm agreeable."
"We'll take you round to see the college before dinner. We can't do less by a member of the Alpha Zeta Society."
Sam laughed. "I guess you'll have to put down the name on a piece of paper," he said, "or I'll forget what society I belong to."
Sam's good humor and droll observations made him a favorite with the three students. He learned, to his surprise, that Brown was a cousin of Julia Stockton, whose acquaintance he had made on the Fall River boat.
"I was in town yesterday, and Julia mentioned you—said you were very polite to her. It is very strange we should run across each other so soon after."
"That's so," said Sam, and, calling to mind the ten dollars in his pocket, he could not help adding to himself: "It's mighty lucky, too."