"You didn't have to ask us," retorted Mott. "We came because you need us
and for the good of the college. Come, freshman, do what I tell you."

"Don't you come near--" began Peter John, but the sentence was not
completed. At some unseen signal a half-dozen sprang upon him. Before he
could bring down the chair which he still was holding above his head he
was suddenly seized by his adversaries, the chair was wrenched from his
hands, he was thrown heavily to the floor, and in a moment his hands and
feet were fast bound with cords, and he was a helpless prisoner. Still
he did not cease his struggling, but as he twisted and writhed he only
drew the cords more tightly and made his own helplessness more apparent.

"I know who you are!" he shrieked. "I'll report you, every one! I'll
give the whole list of your names to the president! I'll have you
arrested! I'll put you in jail! You're a lot of thieves and low-down
scoundrels! I'll have you put where you won't abuse anybody any more!"
Peter John's voice rose with every fresh threat until at last it almost
broke in a sob. He was almost beside himself, and Will Phelps, though he
shared in the anger of his classmate, was rejoiced that he was helpless
and could not do what his desperation prompted.

"Tie your handkerchief over his mouth, Hines," said Mott to one of his
companions. "We must hush the infant's wailings or he'll have the whole
of Winthrop up here. He seems to have some language besides that of the
ordinary 'infant crying in the night'."

At Mott's direction Hines and two of his classmates at once securely
bound a handkerchief about Peter John's face, a task that was not
accomplished without a desperate struggle.