"Pouch it off, d.i.c.k! Let the fun start. You're the right one to set the bonfire going."

"Not I," Prescott answered. "There is some one else here who has been appointed to set the blaze going, and who has accepted the job."

"Then trot him out and let him get busy!" came the urgent demand.

"Wait just a few minutes, fellows. We want it really dark," urged Captain Prescott.

At last, when he judged it dark enough, d.i.c.k stepped forward, Captain Ted Teall at his side.

"Friends," d.i.c.k explained, "Teall has been good enough to agree to start the blaze tonight."

"South Grammar fellows this way, please!" called Teall. "Now, friends, please don't any of you make any noise until we Souths have a chance to say just a few words. All ready, South Grammars?

Then three cheers for the Central Grammar School, winners of the school baseball league series. Let 'em rip out loudly!"

The cheers were given, followed by a tiger.

"Is Hi Martin, captain of the North Grammar nine, here?" called Ted Teall.

But Hi wasn't, or else he kept his presence very quiet.

"Hi wouldn't he here," jeered some one. "He didn't win---couldn't win---and he's sore."

Again Ted called for Hi Martin, though still without success.

"Then I'll have to light the fire alone," Ted declared. "I had hoped that the captains of both of the walloped teams might share the honor."

Tom Reade and Dave Darrin hastily emptied a five-gallon can of oil on the old boxes and barrels and other pieces of wood.

"All clear?" called Ted.

"All clear," nodded Tom Reade.

"Then I'll light the blaze," shouted Ted. "This is a lot easier than winning ball games," he added good-naturedly.

Three or four wind-proof matches Teall struck on a box and tossed into the oil-soaked pile of combustibles. In a moment the increasing heat of the blaze drove him back several yards.

Higher and higher mounted the red and yellow flames. Hundreds stood about, their faces fully illumined by the big glow.

"It's going to be a great one," Ted called to d.i.c.k, as the latter came toward him.

"Finest bonfire I've ever seen," Prescott answered.

"But---" began Teall, a puzzled look on his face. Then---sniff!

sniff! "Queer stuff, that! What a stuffing smoke it makes.

I wonder what it is that burns with such a sharp smell?"

"It must be pitch," replied d.i.c.k Prescott, also sniffing. "Whew!

How sharp it is!"

Ted began to sneeze. d.i.c.k followed suit. Presently all of the boys who were standing at all near the blazing pile found themselves sneezing, coughing or sputtering at a great rate. Some of the men, further away, caught the acrid fumes.

"This is a mean trick some one has played on us," cried d.i.c.k, falling back before the stifling odors.

"I hope you don't think I did a mean thing like that?" demanded Teall anxiously.

"I'm sure you didn't," Prescott answered. "You're full of tricks, Ted Teall, but you're a real sportsman after you've been beaten."

"Say, can this possibly be any of Hi Martin's work?" demanded Tom Reade, as the boys fell back steadily from the bonfire.

"Only one objection to suspecting Hi," retorted Teall.

"What's that?" asked Greg. "Too proud?"

"No," snapped Teall. "Hi hasn't brains enough to think up anything."

"This is just like boys. It's really what one gets for turning out to a boys' bonfire!" growled one man between fits of coughing, as he rapidly got away from the fire. It's an abominably mean trick!"

"Who did it?" asked another man.

"Oh, you can't find that out now," replied still another. "You all know the way that boys hang together in mischief. No one would tell you, or dare to tell you, if he knew."

"I'd like to know the boy, for about one minute!" snapped one stout, red-faced man, down whose cheeks the tears were trickling.

"It's that loutish trick of putting red pepper on a fire. No one but a feeble-minded boy would think of playing an old, moth-eaten trick like that!"

"It would pay us to get out of here quickly, if any one suspected us," whispered Fred Ripley to his friend.

"Sh! Shut up!" returned Dodge in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "It isn't best for us to be seen whispering. Look innocent."

From behind a heavy hand descended abruptly on either coat collar, taking firm hold.

"Here are the young apes who played the trick!" roared an angry voice. "I just heard them whispering about it, and when I was finishing supper I remember that I looked out of the window and saw these boys fooling about the pile."

"What did you put on the fire?" demanded a man, stepping in front of the now frightened youths, who were hemmed in so that they could not escape.

"Red pepper," returned Ripley sullenly. He spoke before he thought, thus admitting his guilt and Dodge's.

"You idiot!" hissed Bert.

"You're both of you idiots," retorted the captor, who had now released both young men. "Besides being a mean, detestable trick, it's as old as the world. That red-pepper trick was invented by some stupid lout who lived thousands of years before the Flood."

"What shall we do with these imps?" demanded a voice.

"There must be some High School boys here," said the man who had first seized the humiliated pair by their collars. "Let the High School boys decide what is to be done with them."

"We don't care what's done with a pair of simpletons like them,"

spoke up Ben Tozier. "Let the crowd go as far as it likes with such a pair."

"Don't you dare do anything to us" screamed Ripley, now beside himself with rage. "It will go hard with any one who interferes with us.