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.