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The Science Fiction Fan, v. 4, issue 10, whole no. 46, May 1940
Page 10
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10.............................................................................FAN why there were 13 less students than usual fre-quenting the local bars and road-houses. The dean mopped his brow a good deal--for he was a party to the conspiracy--then suggested that perhaps these 13 had had a change of heart and were now spending their time in pursuit of knowledge and extra-curricular study. The de-tective named Murphy said "Ah!" as if that ex-plained everything and left the dean to his guilty conscience. As he was crossing the campus Murphy stumbled over Poggle, our physical training instructor, who was lying on his stomach behind a bush closely watching a student with a fresh-man cap, and an algebra book (He was wearing one and studying the other). "What goes on?" queried Murphy, towing Poggle's trousers. "Shh!" said Poggle fiercely. "Get down"; he'll see you." As Muprhy dropped to the lawn Poggle crept noiselessly up to the freshman, withdrew a blackjack from his hip pocket, took careful aim, and cracked him behind the ear. As the freshman collapsed with a gentle sigh, Murphy rushed up. "Just what", he demanded, as detectives will, "was the big idea of that?" "It's an old college custom," explained Poggle, as he dragged the unconscious form toward the buildings. "We call it hazing". Murphy said "Oh" and walked slowly off in the directions of a beer, scratching his head the
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10.............................................................................FAN why there were 13 less students than usual fre-quenting the local bars and road-houses. The dean mopped his brow a good deal--for he was a party to the conspiracy--then suggested that perhaps these 13 had had a change of heart and were now spending their time in pursuit of knowledge and extra-curricular study. The de-tective named Murphy said "Ah!" as if that ex-plained everything and left the dean to his guilty conscience. As he was crossing the campus Murphy stumbled over Poggle, our physical training instructor, who was lying on his stomach behind a bush closely watching a student with a fresh-man cap, and an algebra book (He was wearing one and studying the other). "What goes on?" queried Murphy, towing Poggle's trousers. "Shh!" said Poggle fiercely. "Get down"; he'll see you." As Muprhy dropped to the lawn Poggle crept noiselessly up to the freshman, withdrew a blackjack from his hip pocket, took careful aim, and cracked him behind the ear. As the freshman collapsed with a gentle sigh, Murphy rushed up. "Just what", he demanded, as detectives will, "was the big idea of that?" "It's an old college custom," explained Poggle, as he dragged the unconscious form toward the buildings. "We call it hazing". Murphy said "Oh" and walked slowly off in the directions of a beer, scratching his head the
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