“Say, he ought to be mobbed!” cried Andy.
“What a dirty trick!” came from another student. “We ought to pay him back for that.”
“Let us pay him back to-night,” suggested Stuffer.
So it was agreed, and it was also settled that nobody should say a word about the grease until the proper time came. The performance went on, each performer taking good care not to get too much grease on his soles, and stepping out with caution. At last the show was over, and the final curtain went down amid great applause and cheering.
“That was as good as a professional show,” declared Joe Nelson.
“Sure an’ it was betther nor some professional shows,” put in Hogan. “Wanct I wint to a show in the country—a travelin’ troupe ’twas—an’ they couldn’t act fer a sour apple. The b’ys got ancient eggs, an’ the stage was a soight to see afther thim players got out av town!”
The performance had lasted until half-past ten, and as soon as it was over the majority of the cadets retired to their dormitories. With the crowd went Dan Baxter, much disgusted that his joke had not turned out as he had anticipated.
“I suppose one of them found out about the grease, and he told the rest,” was the way he reasoned. “Hang the luck anyway! I don’t seem to be able to get square with that crowd, no matter what I do!”
Baxter was tired, and it was not long before he was in the land of dreams. How long he slept he knew not, but of a sudden he awoke, to find a handkerchief tied across his mouth. Then his arms were tied to his sides, his feet were fastened, and he was raised up out of bed by six persons and carried from the dormitory.
He was not greatly frightened, because he thought some of the others in the dormitory were playing a joke on him. He tried to see the faces of the cadets, but could not, for each of the party had a big paper bag thrust over his head, with two holes in front, for seeing purposes.