“It’s all to the red-pepper,” declared Bill. “We need something to wake us up.”
“I guess this will prevent dreams for some time,” observed the eldest Smith.
“It’ll be a scream of a nightmare when the faculty sees it,” came from Pete, “but there’s no harm in it as long as the paint washes off.”
With many nods and winks Chapin recalled to the three brothers, and to Whistle-Breeches, next morning the plot they had made. Whistle-Breeches had been let into it early in the day, and had eagerly agreed to do his share. They would need ropes with which to mount to the top of the big statue, and Anderson had agreed to procure them.
“I can climb, too,” he said, “and I’ll decorate the top part.”
“Good for you, Whistle-Breeches!” exclaimed Pete.
It was that same afternoon that Bill saw Bob Chapin in close conversation with Mersfeld and Jonas North. It was the first time he had noticed that Chapin was chummy with the Varsity regular pitcher, and with the lad who, because of his bullying tactics was generally shunned, except by his own crowd.
“I hope Bob doesn’t talk too much about the statue business,” reflected Bill. “Too many cooks make the hash taste burned. It might leak out.”
Then, as he was summoned to practice he gave the matter no more thought until that evening, when he set off alone to see Professor Clatter, and get the pink paint.
Pete and Cap wanted to accompany him, but Bill declared that there was safety in small numbers, and that he preferred to go alone.