“Crude and not original,” declared Winans. “My son, if you are going to do anything to render your name famous in this school, you’ll have to think of something more original than that. It is related in ancient history that when Methusalem was a Freshman the Sophomores put cactus needles in his bed. Suggest something else.”
“Let’s steal Herr Schermer’s pig,” suggested Butler.
“My son,” said Winans, sitting up in bed, “you show signs of human intelligence. That would be something to do.”
The quartette of students laughed heartily. Herr Schermer’s pig was one of the campus marvels. Professor Schermer, whose immense head, heavy-lensed glasses and strong Teutonic accents made him one of the notables of the faculty, was professor of biology, and his pig had, during the preceding year, been one of the campus institutions. Gaunt, with ribs showing like the bars of a xylophone, the poor beast had trotted ’round and ’round the small pen beside the biological laboratory squealing dismally, save during the periods each day when the “Herr Professor” Schermer tolled it inside the laboratory and there performed strange and wonderful experiments, accompanied by the distressed squeals of the unfortunate porcine victim, which attracted the attention of the entire campus. It was understood that the “Herr Professor” was conducting these experiments in an effort to test his discovery of a serum to cure hog cholera, and the doleful grunts of the pig the sleek satisfaction of the “Herr Professor” after each session in the laboratory promised success.
The idea of stealing the “Herr Professor’s” beloved pig was enough to startle into action the plotters gathered in the rooms of Winans and Kirkland for the ostensible purpose of study.
“Let’s pignap it to-night,” suggested Winans. “Haul it away and hide it.”
“Hold on a minute,” said Kirkland. “Butler wanted revenge on Bartelme. Why not steal the ‘Herr Professor’s’ pig, lug it into the dorm and put it in Bartelme’s bed.”
“Hooray,” yelled Winans. “Great little idea. Come on fellows. We’ll stir this mossy old school up as it never was stirred before.”
The four rocked to and fro with sheer delight as they elaborated the idea. The thought of the dignified, serious professor mourning his lost and loved pig, and of the sedate and over-dignified student monitor discovering said pig in his bed, was too much for their youthful sense of humor.
Ten minutes later the plotters, reinforced by Trumbull, whose powerful strength was needed to accomplish their purpose, were reconnoitering carefully the surroundings of the biological laboratory, and a scuffle, a few indignant squeals and a chorus of muffled laughter followed. The pig, accustomed as he was to the indignities to which he had been subjected, probably merely wondered mildly what further use science might have for him when a heavy blanket was thrown over his head and, lifted in the arms of the giant athlete, he was bundled over the fence of the pen. His legs quickly were bound, a noose was pulled tightly around his nose to smother the indignant squeals and the snickering brigade bore him in triumph toward the dormitory.