his way over the porch. In about a minute he found the door.
Then he came right in. I had locked the door, but I had neglected to
reenforce it with concrete and boiler iron. Ole wore part of the frame
in with him.

"Come on, yu Baked Pies!" he shouted.

"You're in the wrong house," squeaked that little fool, Jimmy Skelton.

"Yu kent fule me!" said Ole, crashing around the loafing-room. "Aye yust
can tal das haus by har skagaroot smell. Come on, yu leetle fallers! Aye
bet Aye inittyate yu some, tu!"

By this time he had found the stairs and was plowing through the
furniture. We retired to the third floor. When twenty-seven fellows go
up a three-foot stairway at once it necessarily makes some noise. Ole
heard us and kept right on coming.

We grabbed a bureau and a bed and barricaded the staircase. There was a
ladder to the attic. I was the last man up and my heart was giving my
ribs all kinds of massage treatment before I got up. We hauled up the
ladder just as Ole kicked the bureau downstairs, and then we watched him
charge over our beautiful third-floor dormitory, leaving ruin in his
wake.

Maybe he would have been satisfied with breaking the furniture. But, of
course, a few of us had to sneeze. Ole hunted those sneezes all over the
third floor. He couldn't reach them, but he sat down on the wreck
underneath them.

"Aye ent know vere yu fallers ban," he said, "but Aye kin vait. Aye har
yu, yu Baked Pies! Aye gat yu yet, by yimminy! Yust come on down ven yu
ban ready."

Oh, yes, we were ready--I don't think. It was a perfectly lovely
predicament. Here was the Damma Yappa chapter of Eta Bita Pie penned up
in a deucedly-cold attic with one lone initiate guarding the trapdoor.
Nice story for the college to tell when the police rescued us! Nice end
of our reputation as the best neophyte jugglers in the school! Makes me
shiver now to think of it.

We sat around in that garret and listened to the clock strike in the
library tower across the campus. At eleven o'clock Ole promised to kill
the first man who came down. That bait caught no fish. At twelve he
begged for the privilege of kicking us out of our own house, one by one.
At one o'clock he remarked that, while it was pretty cold, it was much
colder in Norway, where he came from, and that, as we would freeze
first, we might as well come down.

At two o'clock we were all stiff. At three we were kicking the plaster
off of the joists, trying to keep from freezing t