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Updated: May 22, 2025
He might have been fighting them yet, for all I know, had not History twisted his mouth from under the hand of his captor and threatened he had not breath enough left to call for help: "If you don't let me go I'll tell on you." The very thought of this smallness horrified Tug so much that he stopped struggling, and turned his head to implore History not to disgrace Lakerim by being a tattler.
Then he had fallen into a hot bath, and jumped from that into a cold shower, and had then been rubbed down by some of his faithful Lakerim friends with a pail of rock-salt to harden his muscles. At Troy, too, he had continued these tactics, and found, to his delight, when he weighed in, that he just tipped the scales at one hundred and fifteen.
And yet it was very well known to the people that lived in it. And the Lakerim Athletic Club was very well known to those same people. And the Lakerim Athletic Club, or, at least the twelve founders of the club, were as blue as the June sky, because it seemed to them that Father Time old Granddaddy Longlegs that he is was playing a mean trick on them.
It clanged and banged and clamored and boomed and pounded its way even through the harveyized armor-plate of the Lakerim ship of sleep. Tug was the first to wake, and his heart almost stopped with horror of the time the old bell had chosen for making itself heard.
So, after long deliberation, they consented to permit half a dozen of the larger Lakerim fellows to join the volunteer department. Fires were not frequent, and most of the buildings of the village were so small that little risk was to be feared.
It was not long after this that the Christmas vacation hove in sight, and the Dozen forgot the blot upon its escutcheon in the thought of the delight that awaited it in renewing acquaintance with its mothers and other best girls at Lakerim, not to mention the cronies in the club-house. Each had his plans for making fourteen red-letter days out of the two weeks they were to spend at home.
"Let's give the Lakerim yell together, History," he said; "perhaps the fellows have missed us and are out looking for us, and will come to our rescue." So he and History filled their lungs and hurled forth into the air the old Lakerim yell, or as much of it as two could manage: The Crows listened in amazement to the war-whoop of the two Lakerimmers.
This feast had been intended as a grand finale to the season of hazing, and it was to be paid for by the poor wretches who had been given the pleasure of being hazed, and taxed a dollar apiece for the privilege. Strange to say, the two Lakerim men whom the Crows had tried to haze were neither invited to pay the tax nor to be present at the banquet.
When the Lakerim three, therefore, appeared on the field as candidates for the eleven, they were assigned to the second or scrub team. The Lakerim three, though disappointed at first, determined to show their respect for discipline, and to earn their way; so they submitted meekly, and played the best game they could on the scrub.
The night before the Lakerim contingent went back to the Kingston Academy, another grand reception was given in their honor at the club-house; and the Dozen made more speeches and assumed an air of greater magnificence than ever. But, nevertheless, they were just a trifle sorry that they had to leave their old happy hunting-ground.
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