—and Holly Cross joining them by the most direct route—by an air line, so to speak.
Into the water Holly fell with a splash, and after him went Dutch. Then, seeing their two ringleaders thus summarily disposed of, the other hazers ceased their attack on Simpson.
He stood in the midst of the throng, many of whom were just arising from some terrific left-handers.
"I told you that you might be sorry," came in calm tones from the Californian.
"For the love of mustard, who are you, anyhow?" demanded Bascome, as he crawled dripping and shivering up on the bank. "Are you a champion strong man, or an elephant trainer?"
"Oh I spent one vacation traveling with a circus, and learned to do some throwing tricks," modestly explained Simpson. "And now, gentlemen, I'll bid you good-evening," and before the crowd could stop him, had they been so disposed, he walked away.
That's how Frank Simpson was hazed. Ask any old Randall graduates to tell you about it, and hear what they say.
