The sentence was never finished for the door opened and Dan Jordan's big form loomed up before their dazed eyes.

"Is that you, Shorts?" called Dan.

"Yes."

"Where have you been for the last three hours?"

"Down there," mumbled Shorts in a smothered tone, desiring to hide their plight if possible.

"For the love of all that's good, Shorts," groaned Spuddy, "let me get into the house and change my clothes.... There goes Swipes again in the snow. Get up, fool, here's the 'Captain.'"

"To--to the devil with the 'Captain,'" muttered Swipes.

But Dan's next sentence completely awoke the senses of all save Swipes. He only grasped it dimly through the cobwebs of his drunken brain.

"Where's Graves?" demanded Jordan, coming to the top step.

The silence that followed was as grim as the falling snow. Spuddy and Shorts were dragging the limp Swipes up the long steps.

"Graves?... We haven't seen him," interjected Shorty Brown, and Dan Jordan answered gravely: "Then the sophomores have captured him, that's a certainty! He hasn't been here, and he hasn't been to the Rectory."

Shorts, now thoroughly sober, followed the big freshman into the drawing-room, where a dozen or more downcast-looking boys were curled up on divans. Swipes was being urged up the broad oak stairs, Spuddy now and then giving him a severe poke in the ribs. Preston perched the hapless boy against his chamber door with the injunction to get to bed the best he could. Swipes turned helplessly to his room-mate.