A HAZING, AND WHAT FOLLOWED The stream of water came from a small hose that was being played through a transom window over the door of the room.

A lad was holding the hose, and in the dim light Dick recognized the face of a youth named Bart Larkspur, a sophomore who did not bear a very good reputation.

Larkspur was poor and Dick had heard that he was used by Flockley, Koswell and others to do all sorts of odd jobs, for which the richer lads paid him well.
"Stop that, you!" cried the oldest Rover, and then, rushing to the door, he flung it open and gave a shove to what was beyond.

This was a short step-ladder upon which Larkspur and several others were standing, and over the ladder went with a crash, sending the hazers to the floor of the hallway in a heap.
"Get the hose," whispered Tom, who had followed his brother, and while the sophomores were endeavoring to get up, he caught the squirming hose and wrenched it, nozzle and all, from Bart Larkspur's hand.
"Hi, give me that!" yelled Larkspur.
"All right, here you are," answered Tom merrily, and turned the stream of water directly in the sophomore's face.

Larkspur spluttered and shied and then plunged to one side into a fellow student standing near.