“Meaning just what?” asked Whistle-Breeches, as he carefully marked a page in his algebra, lest he forget it.
“Meaning that we ought to get busy. Now have you fellows anything to propose?”
“We might paint the class numerals on the bell tower. That hasn’t been done in a couple of years I understand,” spoke Bill.
“Childish,” was Cap’s objection.
“Let’s go about town, changing all the signs in front of the stores,” came from Pete. “The Freshmen did that one year, and a chap with a pair of shoes to fix took them into a millinery joint. That would be sport.”
“Regular high-school game,” was what Cap said. “That’s old. Think of something new.”
“Besides, it isn’t altogether safe,” added Whistle-Breeches. “I tried to get some signs for my room the other day, and I did get a nice one from a ladies’ hair dressing parlor, but the proprietor turned out to be a man, and he spotted me. It cost me just seven-fifty for that sign. I could have had one made for a dollar. I’m not stuck on the sign racket. But, Cap, how about taking down the Junior flag pole? We could dig it up some dark night and shift it over to the football field.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad,” remarked Cap condescendingly. “But I have what I think is a better plan. You know that big meteor, or piece of a meteor, that stands just off the middle of the main campus?”
“The Senior stone?” asked Bill.
“That’s it. Now what’s the matter with taking that and depositing it on the college front steps some dark night?”