CHAPTER XX

“WHO TOLD?”

For a moment Bob and Ned gazed silently at their tall chum. Then they spoke.

“Take the Boxwood picture?” gasped Ned.

“And put it on the flagpole?” added Bob.

“Why not?” asked Jerry. “Worse, or better, jokes, as you choose to call them, have been perpetrated here. It beats taking a goat up to a class room, or taking the knob off a prof’s door so he can’t get out to make you flunk.”

“But it doesn’t beat taking two of the highbrows off and making them forget to come back,” chuckled Ned.

“Maybe not,” admitted Jerry, with a smile. “That was some little trick, if I do say it myself.”

“It sure was!” agreed Bob.

“But about this picture,” went on the tall lad. “Are you going to help me get it, or not?”

“Just us three?” asked Ned.

“That’s enough,” said Jerry. “The more you have in a game like that, the more danger there is in getting found out. We three can do it alone.”

“All right,” said Bob, smiling. “I’m with you.”

“Same here,” added Ned. “But how are we going to do it?”

“Oh, I have it all planned,” Jerry told his chums. “We’ll wait until it gets a little later, and then we’ll go into chapel by the little side door near Martin’s house.” (Martin was the janitor who looked after chapel.) “He hardly ever locks the door,” went on Jerry, “but if he does I have some extra keys that I think will work. We can sneak in there, take the picture off the wall, slip around back of the gym and up to the flagpole. No one goes there at night. The flag will be down, and the halyards will be in the little box on the pole. That isn’t locked. All we’ll have to do will be to fasten the picture to the ropes and hoist it up, fasten the ropes and get back to our own little beds. Of course, we’re taking a chance in being out of the dormitory after hours, but that’s done every night, and at worst it means only some extra lines.”

“But if we’re caught out, and they find the picture up on the pole in the morning, won’t they suspect us?” asked Ned.

“You don’t suppose we’ll be the _only_ ones out to-night; do you?” asked Jerry. “They won’t suspect us any more than they will any one else.”

“It’s taking a risk,” objected Bob.

“Of course it is!” admitted his tall chum. “What would be the fun if there were no risk?”

“We shan’t damage the picture any; shall we?” Ned demanded.

“Not a scratch, if we can help it,” promised Jerry. “We’ll just hoist it up and leave it where a good view can be had of it. Are you game?”

Again Bob and Ned said they were. They were mildly excited, too. As Jerry had stated, matters had been a bit dull at Boxwood Hall of late. Nothing of interest had been done, save that a few of the old-time jokes--“standardized plays”--Jerry called them, had been executed. The boys welcomed any sort of change.

Jerry went carefully over all the details with his chums.

“We’ll have to work quickly,” he told them. “And I’ll lay out the work so each one of us will have just certain things to do. And do ’em fast--that’s the word--fast!”

The boys waited until it was near the hour when lights must be extinguished and every student, who had not permission to remain out, must be in his room. Then, with a final word of instruction, Jerry led his chums forth. As he left his room he took up a black robe they sometimes used in the automobile when it was chilly.

“What’s that for?” asked Ned.

“To throw over the picture. The gold frame might shine when we passed some lamp and give the game away. I’ll cover it with this robe.”

“Good idea,” said Bob.

Carefully and cautiously the three chums made their way to the chapel. It stood well away from the other college buildings. The only structure near it was the cottage of Martin, the janitor, an elderly man fond of a pipe and a book after supper, so there was little danger of his being abroad. At this hour it was dark and deserted.

“Got your keys?” whispered Bob.

“Yes,” answered Jerry, in the same low voice. “But maybe I won’t need ’em.”

As they neared the chapel, and swung around to the side where the door leading to the vestry was, a black form rushed out of the bushes toward them.

“What’s that?” exclaimed Ned, nervously.

“Martin’s dog. Keep still!” commanded Jerry. “Here, Jack, lie down! Go back!” he ordered.

The dog, which had not barked, was a friend of every lad in the college. He fawned upon the three plotters and then, satisfied that they did not want to romp with him, Jack went back to his kennel.

“Got out of that easy,” commented Jerry.

Cautiously they ascended the steps and tried the door.

“Open,” announced Jerry. “I won’t have to use the keys. Come on in, and don’t stumble over a chair or any of the kneeling benches.”

They entered the dark vestry and closed the door behind them.

“Bear cats and little kittens!” muttered Ned. “It’s as black as a bottle of ink.”

“I’ve got a flashlight,” announced Jerry, producing a pocket electric lamp. By its light the boys made their way out of the vestry, up on the platform and over to where the picture hung.

“Got to have a ladder to reach it,” announced Bob.

“Put one of the big pulpit chairs on top of another and we can reach it,” said Jerry. “I figured that out when I was here this morning.”

“Big head!” ejaculated Ned.

Jerry was right about the chairs, and on this rather shaky pyramid, while Ned and Bob steadied it, Jerry reached up and lifted down the picture, no easy task, for it was in a heavy gold frame.

The Boxwood picture was one of the treasures of the institution; not because of its intrinsic worth, but because of the associations.

The Reverend Doctor Ebenezer Boxwood, to give him his proper title, had founded the college as a religious school, and the chapel was one of the first buildings erected. He had been a clergyman of great scholarly attainments, and a natural instructor.

Gradually, like many others of its kind, Boxwood Hall broadened, and became a college in which the divinity side was less and less emphasized each year, though the institution still conferred the degree of Doctor of Divinity upon those who wished it, and who passed the necessary tests.

So it was that the faculty of the college revered the picture of the founder, even though the boys did not. For, of course, none of the present undergraduates had known the Rev. Dr. Ebenezer Boxwood.

“Now hustle!” advised Jerry, when the picture was safely down. “Put back the chairs, and we’ll cut out of here.”

This was soon done, and, with the picture covered with the black robe, the conspirators, first looking about to make sure they were unobserved, sneaked out the side door, and made their way toward the flagpole.

Here was where the greatest danger of detection lay, for they were out in the open, and though the flagpole was not near any of the buildings it was in a conspicuous place on the campus, and the boys might be observed by some passing professor.

However, luck seemed to be with them, and they quickly made the flag halyards fast to the picture and hoisted it up to the top of the pole, making sure the fastenings were secure so the portrait would not fall.

“Well, I guess that’s some nifty little trick,” chuckled Jerry, as they hurried back to their rooms.

“It’ll make ’em sit up and have gravy on their eggs all right,” added Ned.

Chuckling over the success of their plot, the three chums prepared to go to bed, for it was a little past the hour for lights to be out, and they did not want any suspicion to attach to them.

So sound and healthful was the sleep of Ned, Bob and Jerry that it seemed but a few minutes from the time they crawled into their beds until their alarm clocks rattled in the morning, and they sprang up. For they “cut things pretty fine,” to quote Jerry, and only gave themselves just enough time to jump into their clothes and run for chapel.

As they scudded across the campus, arranging ties on the route, they looked across to the flagpole, where they saw a group of students gathered about, gazing up at the suspended portrait.

“It’s working!” chuckled Jerry.

The final bell rang, and the students about the pole rushed to chapel.

“Some little trick--that of yours!” exclaimed Tom Bacon, with a laugh.

There was no time for further talk as they had to go to their seats, and there an air of subdued excitement testified to the success of the trick.

The doors were closed, Dr. Cole arose as usual, but the usual announcement, that of an invitation to all present to take part in the morning prayer, was wanting.

“Young gentlemen, I regret to mention to you, what the most of you probably know, that the portrait of our revered founder is not in its usual place,” Dr. Cole said in his deep voice.

“And before we go on with the devotional exercises this morning I will request Hopkins, Baker and Slade to proceed to the flagpole, where they shamelessly hung the portrait, and bring it back!”

There was a gasp of astonishment, and the three chums looked guiltily at one another.

“Go at once!” sternly ordered Dr. Cole.

Amid the smiles of their fellow students Jerry, Ned and Bob filed out of chapel.

And when they reached the pole they saw a card tacked on it, just below where the halyards were made fast, and the card read:

“This picture was placed here by

“Jerry Hopkins,

“Ned Slade,

“Bob Baker.”