"Well, I have it pretty straight that some sophs, led by Browning, are coming to take me out for an airing to-night."
"Eh? Take you out?"
"Yes."
"And he means to take them in," laughed Rattleton, arranging a war bonnet on his head.
"That's just it," nodded Frank. "If they come here, we'll be ready for them. If they do not come, we'll call on Mr. Browning."
"I'm afraid this is rather a serious matter," said Dismal Jones.
"Oh, don't begin to croak!" cried Rattleton. "Merriwell knows his business. Hurry up with your makeup. Can't tell how early the sophs will call."
So the boys hastened to complete their disguise, and a decidedly savage-looking band they were when all was completed. Frank surveyed them with satisfaction.
"Ah! my bold warriors!" he cried. "I am proud of you. To-night—to-night we deal the enemy a terrible and deadly blow."
"We're ready to hear what the layout is," eagerly said Ned Stover.