e would," we remarked, beginning to get intelligent.

"And, after he had confirmed the sad news by telegram, would you have
sense enough left to suggest that college dismiss on Tuesday and hold a
memorial meeting?"

"We would," we chuckled.

"And would you have foresight enough to suggest that it be held in the
morning so that you could rush away to Weeping Water in the afternoon to
attend the funeral?"

"Yes, indeed," we said, so mildly that the cop two blocks away strolled
down to see what was up.

"And then would you be diplomatic enough to produce a telegram saying
that the report was false, just too late to start the afternoon
classes?"

"You bet!" we whooped, pounding Hogboom with great joy. Then we sat down
as unconcernedly as if we were planning to go to the vaudeville the next
afternoon and arranged the details of Hogboom's assassination. As I was
remarking, positively nothing looks serious to a college boy until after
he has done it.

That was on Friday night. On Saturday we killed Hogboom. That is, he
killed himself. He got permission to go home over Sunday and retired to
an upper back room in our house, very unostentatiously. He had already
written to his operator chum, who had attended college just long enough
to take away his respect for death, the integrity of the telegraph
service and practically everything else. The result was that at nine
o'clock that evening a messenger boy rang our bell and handed in a
telegram. It was brief and terrible. Wilbur Hogboom had been submerged
in the Weeping Water River while trying to abduct a catfish from his
happy home and had only just been hauled out entirely extinct.

It was an awful shock to us. We had expected him to be shot. We read it
solemnly and then tiptoed up to Hogboom with it. He turned pale when he
saw the yellow slip.

"What is it?" he asked hurriedly. "How did it happen?"

"You were drowned, Hoggy, old boy," Wilkins said. "Drowned in your
little old Weeping Water River. They have got you now and you're all
damp and drippy, and your best girl is having one hysteric after
another. Don't you think you ought to throw that cigarette away and show
some respect to yourself? We've all quit playing cards and are going to
bed early in your honor."

"Well, I'm not," said Hogboom. "It's the first time I have ever been
dead, and I'm going to stay up all night and see how I feel. Another
thing, I'm going down and telephone the news to Prexy myself. I've