"Don't speak of that, for the love of goodness! Just think of a gang of sophs being captured by freshmen disguised as Indians, taken out into the country, tied to stakes and nearly roasted, while the freshmen dance a gleeful _cancan_ around them! It's awful! The mere thought of it gives me nervous prostration!" It was two weeks after the duel, and the five sophomores had gathered in the little back room at Morey's, They looked at each other and were silent, but their silence was very suggestive.
"By Jawve!" drawled Paulding, "it is awful! I wasn't in the crowd.

If I had been--" "You'd been roasted like the rest of us," cut in Parker.
"But I'd made it warm faw some of the blooming cads." "Haven't we been doing our level best to make it warm for them ?" cried Horner.

"But no matter what we do, they see us and go us one better." "It all comes from Merriwell," asserted Swallows.

"He's king of the freshmen, the same as Browning is king of the sophomores." "And he's a terror," nodded Horner.

"He can put up more jokes than one." "And they say he can fight." "They say! Why, didn't you see him do Diamond, the fresh from Virginia?
Oh, no.