[Illustration: Eph Raced After Jack, Barking at Him.]
Eph Raced After Jack, Barking at Him.
And now the cadets broke into a low, monotonous chant, in time to their
movements. It ran:
Sir, sir, surcingle!
Sir, sir, circle!
Sir, sir, with a shingle--
Sir, sir, sir!
As regular as drumbeats the cadets ripped out the syllables of the
refrain. At each word Jack Benson's body shot higher and higher. These
young men were experts in the gentle art of blanket-tossing. Ere long the
submarine boy was going up into the air some eight or nine feet at every
tautening of the blanket.
As for escape, that was out of the question. No sooner did the submarine
boy touch the blanket than he shot skyward again. Had he desired to he
could not have called out. The motion and the sudden jolts shook all the
breath out of him.
"Ugh! Hm! Pleasant, isn't it?" uttered Hal Hastings, grimly, under his
breath.
"If they try to do that to me," whispered Eph, hotly, under his breath,
"I'll fight."
"More simpleton you, then!" Hal shot back at him in warning. "What chance
do you think you stand against a crowd like this?"
Just as suddenly as it had begun the blanket-tossing stopped.
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