Dress 'em, press 'em, mess 'em down,
Fit to wear a college gown!"
Following this there came a mock parade, one of the members with a sword leading, and then he of the wooden hammer advanced slowly.
"Kneel, ye craven hearts!" he called in a bass voice, that sounded strangely like that of Shadow Hamilton. "Kneel, before this trusty hammer knocks ye to the soil!"
All knelt but Nat Poole.
"See here, what are you going to do?" he asked, anxiously.
"Get down!" whispered the boy named Haven. "They won't hurt you much."
Nat Poole went down on his knees very gingerly, and it must be confessed that he was trembling.
Now, as it happened, some very small tacks had been placed on the boathouse floor. Dave and Roger escaped them, but the others did not, and a yell of pain went up.
"Oh, dear, who put these tacks here!" cried Nat Poole. "Oh, I've got three in my knees." And he danced around in anguish.
At once a big wooden imitation of a claw hammer was produced.
"Take the tacks out with this," was the command.
"I—I can't use that," groaned Nat Poole.
"You must. It is against Section 28, Rule 249,
