"Yes, we didn't take enough temper out of 'em with the hazing last fall.

Have to do the job over again, I guess. But come on, enjoy life while you can," and the two were once more caught up in the happy rush.

The celebration went on the better part of the evening, and when Phil and Tom got to their room Sid was not there. He came in later, narrowly missing detection by the proctor, and said little. He was limping quite badly.

"How's the foot?" asked Tom.

"Not much better," answered Sid. "I shouldn't have gone out to-night, only--I had to."

He was dead lame the next day, and for two days after that had to stay in bed, his place on the nine, in practice games, being taken by Pete Backus, who did not do half badly.

The game with Fairview was approaching and it was likely to be a severely-contested one. Tom was a little anxious but seemed more at ease when Dr. Marshall, the college physician, gave it as his opinion that Sid could play, his foot having almost healed.

"And you've got to bat as you did before too, old sport," insisted Tom, with a laugh. "Why didn't you spring that left-hand racket before?"

"Well, you see I wasn't at all sure of it. When I was a kid I always batted left handed. Then I broke my shoulder and I had to bat right handed after it mended, for it was stiff. Then later I found I could bat either way, but I favored right, until lately, when I began practicing left again."

"We'll keep you for a pinch hitter," declared Tom. "I must revise the batting order, and get you up first, after this."

Sid got into practice a few days before the Fairview game, but was so stiff that it was decided to have some one run for him, after he had gotten to first.

The day before the game, when Sid, Phil and Tom were in their room, Sid putting some strips of adhesive plaster on his lame foot, there came a cautious knock at the door. Dutch Housenlager was at once admitted.

"Are you fellows game?" was his first question.

"For what?" asked Phil.

"For a joke on Proc. Zane?"

"Oh, we're always ready for that!" exclaimed Sid. "He has caught me once this term, and nearly twice. What's the joke?"

"I'll explain," went on Dutch, fairly bubbling over with mirth. "Only you fellows may have to stand for part of it."

"How?" asked Tom. "We'll do our share, of course."

"We want to use one of your windows for part of the trick. May we?"

"Sure," answered Phil. "We'll stand for anything short of setting fire to the college, and we'll throw in a hazing of Pitchfork if it's possible."

"Oh, he'll get his some day," replied Dutch, "but just now we're after Zane. Here's a cord. When you hear three tree-toad whistles down below, lower it from your window, and then at two tugs haul up."

"You're not going to pull the proctor up here, are you?" inquired Phil in some alarm.

"No, but I wish we could. He's been on the job pretty brisk, lately.

Just haul the cord, and then I'll be back to explain more," and leaving a stout string in Tom's hands Dutch hurried away. The three chums tried to guess what was to follow, and made all sorts of wild hazards, in the midst of which they were interrupted by hearing from below the cautious imitation of the trill of a tree-toad, thrice repeated.

"Lower the cord," whispered Phil, and Tom dangled it from the window. In a few minutes he felt two tugs, which was the signal for hauling up, and he pulled until he had hoisted to his window sill a coil of strong wire.

The inseparables were wondering what it was for, when Dutch reappeared.

"Anything heavy we can fasten this to?" he asked, as his eyes roved about the room.

"There's the alarm clock," replied Sid. "It wakes us out of a heavy sleep, sometimes."

"Rotten joke," commented Dutch. "Here, this will do," and he approached the old sofa, holding the coil of wire.

"It won't damage it; will it?" cried Phil in some alarm.

"Impossible, son! Impossible!" replied Dutch. "I only want to anchor the wire to the sofa. There we are," and he rapidly made a loop in the wire, and strung it around the ancient piece of furniture. Then the other end of the wire was dangled out of the window. It was promptly pulled taut, and seemed to be stretched out for some distance.

"That's the stuff!" commented Dutch. "Holly and the rest of the boys are on the job."

"But what are you going to do?" asked Tom, much mystified.

"You'll soon see," answered Dutch, as he hurried from the room again.

CHAPTER XII

PLANNING A PICNIC

When Dutch returned, after an absence of about half an hour, he seemed in considerable of a hurry. He went directly to the window, out of which there stretched away in the darkness the tight wire, and from the cas.e.m.e.nt dropped a cord. Then he gave a whistling signal, which was answered. Dutch began to haul up on the cord.

"Say, look here!" burst out Phil. "What's up, anyhow? Let us in on the joke, as long as you're using our room to work it from."

"Sure," agreed Dutch. "It's all ready now, as soon as I get the cord Snail Looper is fastening to this one."

He hauled up a thin but strong rope, and once more gave some whistling signals. Then he closed down the window.

"Now we'll have to wait about an hour," he explained, "but I'll tell you what's up. You know the proctor has been unusually officious of late, and several of us have suffered."

Sid nodded appreciatively.

"Well," resumed Dutch, "some of us have rigged up an effigy, in the shape of a student in a dress suit, and at this moment the said imitation student is strung on this wire, which extends from your window across the campus, to the clump of elms just beyond Booker Memorial chapel. The effigy is a sort of trolley car, and this is the wire. This cord, which I just hauled up is also attached to the figure. Now at the proper time, when Proc. Zane goes out to catch some poor chap, who has been off to see his best girl, and has stayed too late, I'll pull this string, the figure will slide along the wire, with the feet just touching the ground, and the proctor thinking it is a student, will rush up to identify him. There will be something interesting when the two meet," and Dutch began to chuckle.

"But how can we see it?" asked Tom. "It's as dark as a pocket to-night."

"All the better. The fellows hidden in the clump of elms have an automobile search light, which they will turn on at the proper moment.

Do you catch on?"

"Wow! It's rich!" cried Phil.

"All to the mustard and the spoon, too!" decided Tom.

"A lallapaloosa!" was Sid's comment.

"And not a bit of danger," added Dutch. "As soon as the search light flashes on the scene, and the proctor is made aware of the joke, I'll cut the wire from your window, it will fall to the ground, be hauled in by the fellows in the elms, together with the figure, and not a bit of evidence will remain."