"S'posing the trick don't work after all that trouble?" asked Sid irritably. John was always giving him jobs to do.
"I'll bring a hose key Halloween night," went on John, ignoring the interruption. "We'll tie a string to a tin, fill it up with water from the hose pipe on the front lawn, and tie it to the doorknob. Door jerks open when the bell rings—you know how mad a fellow is then—and the water goes flying into the hall, ker-splash! Bet you that'll make some fun!"
The others regarded the inventor in silent admiration. "How about the cop?" asked one of them finally.
"Never got mad last year, did he? He's all right. Besides, he's too fat to run very fast."
The back door in the Silvey home squeaked disturbingly as Mrs. Silvey appeared. A dusting cap was jammed determinedly over one eye, and in one hand was a broom.
"Bill, you come in here right away. I want you to help me move the hall rug."
Silvey drawled a response. "Jes' wait until we get through talking. It won't be a minute." He turned to the rest of the "Tigers." "Everybody got pea shooters?" They had, or would have before the eventful day arrived.
"I bought a peachy false-face," Perry boasted in the lull of the conversation which followed. "You ought to see it; looks just like a circus clown."
"Leave it at home," said John brusquely. "You can't see out of 'em when you're running away, and they get all sticky, anyway. They're for kids, not for fellows like us."
"Bill!" scolded the maternal voice again. "Come in the house this minute, before I tell your pa on you when he gets home."