Bill made another motion touching the wall button, and instantly, with a combined and very audible gasp, the seven youths relaxed, got away from the wires and stood up. There would probably have been a general retreat mixed with a volley of expletives hurled at Bill and Gus, had not Gus taken a hand in the prevention of this, as planned. A stream of water from a long syringe, aimed over the heads of the sufferers, had cleared the doorway of spectators. The jerk of a ceiling cord slammed the door shut and it was deadlatched, requiring a key to open it.

The would-be hazers, thus trapped and fearful of attempting a further attack, turned, perforce, to face their captors.

But there was one fellow, Albert Shurtlief, who so deeply resented the electric shocking that his desire for instant retaliation robbed him of caution. He was coming right over the wires again and did get partly through before another touch of the wall button gave him a second siege of writhing. The others looked on in wonder, convinced that the best thing they could do was to remain quiescent. Gus said:

"Let up on him, Bill, and if he wants to come through--"

Again the button. The still furious sophomore did get past the wires and was going to make a rush at Bill when Gus stood in his way.

"Now, please. You ought to go a little slow." That was a way Gus had in making a protest against what might end in a scrap. But without further ado, Shurtlief, who was commonly known as "Scrapper Bert," let fly an angry fist right at Gus' exposed jaw.

If the electrically charged wires had surprised the mischief-making upper classmen, the sudden collapsing of their fistic champion shocked them even more. Scrapper Bert was rather noted for his prowess. No one cared to put on the gloves with him, nor to gain his displeasure. To see the new boy, a "measly freshman," not as tall, as heavy nor as old as Bert, catch the assailant's hard-driven fist in the palm of an instantly extended hand and then let drive with his own right a neat, short-arm uppercut that got Bert just where he had meant to get Gus, was a needed lesson to the smug conceit that too often goes with added school years. Bert, from a seat on the floor, which he had taken without choice of the spot, regarded his opponent through half-closed eyes with a certain nonchalance, his anger fled. He slowly got to his feet, climbed back through the wires without further thought as to their being charged, and stood with his companions, quite submissive and mute.

As usual on all occasions demanding words, Bill's tongue was loosened:

"Look here, fellows, we want to give you the right dope on this thing: You see we are here to study-to try and go through if our money holds out. Our people are not rich and, like Tom Edison when he was a boy, we've got to hustle on short allowance. And we really can't afford to be hazed, as you did that new chap yesterday. If we had to buy new clothes and watches and caps, we'd have to quit school-see? And we knew you never missed anybody much, so we naturally, asking your pardon, got up this nice little reception for you. Now to get right down to brass tacks, you see our position and respect it-everyone of you-and, putting yourselves in our position, you don't blame us, nor hold any grudges; isn't that so?"

Siebold, spokesman, made reply, after thinking a little.

"Oh, well, I suppose all is fair in war. You've had your innings now, of course, but we'll have ours later." And then he added: "We'll get you."

From what Doctor Field said, Bill and Gus knew better. Hazing would be broken up on pain of expulsion, as it should be in all schools where the attendance is for business purposes, the getting of a technical education as a means of livelihood. The boys felt that perhaps in a college art course, where education becomes much play on the part of well-to-do lads, class fracases, bowl fights, initiations and the like may not be amiss, but they did not intend to let open brutality rob them of their chance to study. And, however sure they felt that Siebold's threat was idle, there would be a satisfaction in winning their own fight.

"Now, that's just what we want to talk to you fellows about," Bill declared. "You don't want to think about 'getting' us. We want you to call this all off and for good; we want you to give your word on it; see?"

"No; we can't-" began Siebold.

"Won't, eh?" Bill's words came sharp and clear. "Well, then, take a little more treatment for your blamed foolishness." And Bill touched another button.

The contortions, the writhings, the shrieks and cries that followed quite surpassed the former exhibitions. The well-worn woolen rug that fitted from wall to wall across the end of the room where stood the seven seemed to be charged with red hot needles. Suddenly these ceased to leap and jump and burn; the old rug and the hidden wires under it were again quiescent. But the strident voices of the afflicted prisoners were not silenced, though the late lamentings were given over to a medley of condemnations, appeals and pleadings.

"Say, go a little slow on this!"

"Call it off, confound you!"

"Are you trying to electrocute us?"

"Say, Brown, please--"

"Let's call it quits, fellows!"

"We'll call it quits if you want. I suppose we've got to hand it to you two." This last from Siebold.

"Going to call it all off, then? Give us your word! We can't believe that any fellows in Marshallton Tech would go back on their word." Bill was smiling genially.

"That can't be called in question. All off. You're exempt." There was a general acquiescence to this. The door slowly and to the seven quite mysteriously swung open; the seven started to file out.

"Good-by, fellows, and no hard feelings. We were only having a little fun with you as you were going to have with us. You can't--"

"Well, but you two have still got to remember," said Siebold, shaking his finger at Bill and Gus, "that you are freshies and must keep in your places. You've got a little the better of us this time, but--"

"Golly, Dan," spoke up a fellow hazer, "a little the better? Strikes me we've all been good and licked and these chaps ought to get the credit for--" The voice died away along the hall and Bill turned to his chum.

"We don't want any credit, do we, Gus? But we will get it just the same when this gets out. I sort o' think our little stock has gone up about one thousand percentum, even though we are freshies."

This proved quite correct. In a few minutes a lot of freshmen had crowded into the room and there was a sprinkling of sophs also. Questioned eagerly, Bill explained quite freely the purpose of the encounter and its result. Whereupon a big, fat soph declared quite vehemently:

"Huh! They were easily licked. No pluck. You're lucky to have run into a bunch of quitters."

"You wouldn't have quit, eh, Jumbo?" ventured another, grinning.

"Huh! Nothing like this contraption-" began the husky fellow, advancing and laying his hand on the top cross wire.

"Not even for a little thing like this?" queried Bill, reaching the wall button.

"Ow! Blazes! Quit! Don't! Oh, darn! Stop! Turn-it-off! E-e-e-e-e-! Help!" And the instant the stabbing current ceased, Fatty fell back from it and glared at Bill.

"You really can't blame them for quitting, can you?" asked Bill, and for answer the husky soph turned and fled from the room, followed by the jeering laughter of the crowd.

And that ended it. After Bill had asked the crowd if any or all of them wanted to test the "convincer," as he called the electrical rigging, he bade the onlookers who filled the hallway a pleasant au revoir, and Gus again pulled the strings that closed the door.

* * *