“Neither, you old catamaran! But Zane has his hands full with the freshman class. Particular hob has broken loose over in their dormitory, and ‘Zany’ is at his wits’ end. Now, what’s the matter with some of us getting into his room, and upsetting it a bit, to pay him back for what he’s made us suffer? How’s that for a joke?”
“Too kiddish,” declared Phil. “If you can’t think up anything more lively you’d better go to bed, or join the freshies. Come again, Dutch.”
“Say, it’s a wonder you fellows wouldn’t think up something lively yourselves, once in a while,” protested the big lad. “You want me to do it all, and then you blame me if it doesn’t come out right. Name something yourself, Phil Clinton,” challenged Dutch.
“Oh, get out, we’re going to have a game of chess,” declared Sid. “Keep quiet.”
“Well, if you fellows don’t want to have a good time, I’m going to,” declared Dutch, with an injured air. “I’ll find someone to do the trick with me, and then you’ll wish you’d come along.”
“Fare thee well,” mockingly called Tom, after the departing student.
Dutch managed to get Holly Cross and the two Jersey twins into his scheme, and the four lads, after ascertaining that the proctor was busily engaged trying to bring order out of chaos in the freshmen ranks, made for Mr. Zane’s room.
“We’ll make him think a cyclone has broken loose,” declared Dutch, gleefully. “It will be rich.”
Now Mr. Zane was the personification of neatness. His room was as well arranged as the stateroom of the captain on an ocean liner. There was a place for everything, and everything was always in its place.
But the mischief-making students had not been inside more than three minutes, before the apartment did indeed look as though a looting burglar had been at work. Drawers of bureaus were pulled out, books were scattered all about, the chairs were piled up on the tables, a couch was turned over, and some of the incandescent light bulbs removed.