"Whoops!" yelled a Central Grammar boy, starting off. "Bring out the stuff and pile it high."
"Let the Souths help!" bawled Ted Teall at the top of his voice.
"No matter who won, we'll all celebrate."
"Ted, you won't play any funny tricks on that pile of wood?" questioned
Dick a bit uneasily, as he followed Captain Teall.
"What do you take me for?" demanded the South Grammar boy. "Do you think that I'm not on the level?"
"I'm answered," was Dick Prescott's satisfied answer.
Ere long the material for a monster bonfire was piled. Word was given out that it would be set going just a few minutes after dark.
"We came up here to see what we could find to do, didn't we?" whispered Bert Dodge, nudging Fred Ripley.
"Yes," nodded Fred uneasily; "and, so far, we haven't struck a thing that would be safe to do."
"The dickens we haven't," chuckled Dodge.
"What, then?" Fred inquired. Bert whispered in his ear, adding:
"It won't cost us more than a dollar apiece, Fred."