“Dear Professor: This is written by a true friend of France, who is not at liberty to reveal his name. I have information to the effect that the old oak tree which stands on the shore of the lake is a landmark in history. Under it, during the American war of independence, the immortal Washington and La Fayette once slept before a great battle, when their tents had not arrived. The tree should be honored by all Frenchmen, as well as by all Americans.
“But, though it is not generally known that La Fayette slept under the tree, Professor Garlach has learned of it in some way. Such is his hatred of all things French, as you well know, that he has planned to destroy the tree. At midnight to-night he is going to put a dynamite bomb in the tree, and blow it to atoms. He hopes the plot will be laid to the students. If you wish to foil him be at the tree at midnight. I will sign myself only
“Napoleon.”
“Ha! destroy zat sacred tree by dynamite!” murmured Professor Socrat. “I will be zere! I will be zere!”
It lacked some time before twelve o’clock that night, when several figures stole out of a dormitory of Washington Hall.
“Have you got everything, Jack?” asked a voice.
“Yes; but for cats’ sake, keep quiet,” was the rejoinder. “Come on now. Lucky Martin didn’t spot us.”
“That’s what,” added Nat Anderson. “Scouring sky-rockets, but there’ll be some fun!”
“Easy!” cautioned Jack as he led a band of fellow conspirators toward the lake.
They reached the old, hollow oak tree, of which Jack had spoken in his two letters to the professors, and which he had made the rendezvous for his joke. Into the hollow he thrust a bundle of papers. Then, some distance away from the tree, he stuck something else upright in the ground, and trailing off from it were what seemed to be twisted strings.
“Lucky it’s a dark night,” whispered Bony. “They won’t see each other until they get right here. What time is it now?”