That settled it. There was no other protest, and the process of removal began at once. Two boys, one at each end, lifted the statue carefully from its resting place. But then an accident happened. Slicker, leaning too far toward the fountain in his effort at assistance, tumbled inadvertently into the basin.
The boys, frightened at the mishap, lowered their burden to the grass, dropped on their knees, and awaited developments. It was possible that the noise of the splash might arouse the inmates of the house and lead to an investigation. Wet to his waist the victim of misplaced confidence in his own ability to preserve his balance, dragged himself slowly up across the rim of the basin, and joined his drooping comrades on the lawn. No one laughed. It was too serious a moment. Slicker himself was the first to speak.
“Gee!” he whispered through his chattering teeth, “that water’s cold.”
Then Hal had his innings.
“You’re the guy,” he said, “that better take a sneak for home, and get some dry duds on.”
“Not on your life,” was the reply. “I ain’t no sugar lump. A drop o’ water won’t hurt me. I’m goin’ to stay by till we land this stone cupid on somebody’s porch.”
“Whose porch?” asked Little Dusty.
“Well, I’ll s-s-say, Jim Perry’s. That’s only two or three blocks away, and we ain’t done nothin’ for J-J-Jim yet to-night.”
“That’s right! We mustn’t forget Jim.”