"Enter, timid and shrinking candidates," commanded some one. "Enter into the sacred precincts of the Choo-Choo."
"Not much I won't!" declared Joe. "I can't see my hand before my face, and I'm not going into a dark room, not knowing what is there."
"Me either!" declared Tom.
"It is so ordered," came the deep voice of the leader. "Enter or be thrown in!"
Joe turned, trying in vain to pierce the disguise of the black mask. He struggled to free his arms from the rope that bound them, but could not. He was half-minded to strike out with his feet, but he was now so surrounded by the initiators that he could not. Besides, if he did that he might lose his balance and fall hard. Tom was in like straits.
"Forward, march!" came the command.
"I'm not going in I tell you!" insisted Joe.
"If he doesn't go in, shove him," came the command.
Joe, as he felt that resistance was useless, started forward. It was better to keep his own footing, if he had to go in the room and not run the risk of being shoved down.
Advancing cautiously, followed by Tom, the young pitcher stepped over the threshold. Almost
