trongly of drugs.

"Is this the unfortunate young man," asked a strange, but not altogether
unfamiliar voice.

"Yes," Billy heard Hall answer in heartbroken tones, "and please,
doctor, do the best you can for him."

"Oh, we'll fix him alright in just about a minute," responded the
strange voice. "Mr. Hall, will you please hold his arms, for when
patients are excited they sometimes forget themselves, and ... now ...
my instruments, please."

Billy's arms were held tightly behind him, and for a moment he heard
nothing--then came to his ears the sound of a box being unclasped
and--horror of horrors--the rattle of surgical instruments.

Would they dare cut his face? Why his father would--

Billy felt the cold blade of the knife touch his flesh, and hot blood
run down to his chin.

Upon this he became possessed by the strength of a giant. Jerking his
hands loose he struck out with all his might, his fist hitting something
with the force of a kicking donkey. There was a sound of some one
falling and a roar of laughter went up from the students as Billy was
grasped by what seemed a thousand hands. The bandage was snatched from
his eyes and he looked upon a sorry sight. Manchester, the expert
wielder of the Mazuka, had failed as a surgeon. He lay a few feet away
amid pieces of broken ice, which he had pretended was a surgical
knife--his coat bespotted with hot milk which represented poor Billy's
blood, and his left hand clasped tightly over a swollen eye.

"What hit me?" gasped the fictitious Dr. Wallace.

"What hit Manchester, fellows?" one of the seniors managed to howl out
to the convulsed fraternity members.

"I believe that rascally freshman did it," exclaimed Manchester
excitedly, "bring me the 'Mazuka,' and I'll put a bunch on him that
never will come off."

"Gee Whiz! Look at his eye," some one called out.

This brought Manchester to a standstill.

"What's the matter with it," he groaned, putting his hand again to his
face, "is it gone?"

The lids were puffed shut, and were rapidly darkening. Richard Hall,
laughing uproariously, held a pocket mirror for the young sophomore to
peep into. After a moment's contemplation of his bruised face,
Manchester came forth in a hoarse whisper,

"That freshman's got to die--If I only ... had an ax," and his one eye
gazed wildly around in search of a weapon.

"Come, come, Teddy Manchester," soothed a tall senior, "we'll arrange
with the freshman alright. Don't work