"That's exactly what I do mean, sir!" came resolutely from the lips of
the infuriated freshman. "I am a gentleman and the son of a gentleman,
and I'll never stand it to be treated like a cur. Hazing is said to be
no longer tolerated here, and an investigation is certain to follow my
report of this affair."

A little fellow stepped out.

"You claim to be a gentleman," he said, distinctly, "but you will prove
yourself a cad if you peach."

"I had rather be a cad than a ruffian, sir!"

"If you were a gentleman you would take your medicine like a gentleman.
You'd never squeal."

"You fellows are the ones who are squealing now, for you see you have
been imposing on the wrong man."

"Man!" shot back the little fellow, contemptuously. "There's not much
man about a chap that blows when he is hazed a little."

"A little! a little! Is this what you call a little?"

"Oh, this is nothing. Think of what the poor freshies used to go through
in the old days of Delta Kappa and Signa Epsilon. Why, sometimes a
fellow would be roasted so his skin would smell like burned steak for a
week."