“It was done once, years ago,” proceeded the tempter, “and the whole Freshman class was suspended for a week, as the faculty couldn’t find out who did it. It has been many, many, weary years since such an honor fell upon us Freshmen,” and he sighed deeply, as though in pain.
“By Jove!” exclaimed Cap softly. The daring plot appealed to him, conservative as he was.
“How did they get the paint off?” asked Pete.
“It had to wear off,” replied Chapin. “But I don’t want to do anything like that. We can use water colors, and they won’t spoil the bronze, and really it would be a little too rotten to make such a mess of it. Just tint it a light Alice blue, or a dainty Helen pink—it will wash off, but it will look pretty for a while, and the freshmen class will have made a name for itself that it can be proud of. Are you with me? It can easily be done, and the chances are we won’t be caught. How about it?”
“I’ll do it!” exclaimed Bill quickly.
“I don’t know,” began Cap.
“Oh, come on,” urged Pete. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had any fun.”
“If we’re caught, it means good-bye to balls and bats,” went on the eldest brother.
“But we won’t be caught,” declared Chapin eagerly. “Besides, what if we are—that’s half the fun.”
“All right, go ahead,” agreed Cap. “Might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb, I guess. I’m in on it.”