Plans were discussed until supper time, and at length it was decided to go and have a look at the pole and the halyards on the way to the dining hall. This was done. The workmen had departed, the new ropes were flapping sharply against the pole, and the boys found everything ready for them. They didn’t linger there, for fear that they would be observed and connected with the affair the next day, but went on to supper, agreeing to meet in Hampton at nine o’clock.
At a few minutes past that hour four muffled and mysterious figures scuttled across the yard, keeping in the shelter of the laboratories and the gymnasium, and gathered about the flag pole. Detection was out of the question, for the night was as dark as the most desperate mission could demand. Above them the topmast creaked complainingly in the wind and the halyards beat a tattoo against the wood. Very quickly the new flag was attached, Paddy complaining sotto voce because the varnish stuck to his hands, and Wayne laid hold of the other rope.
“Hats off!” commanded Don in a husky whisper.
Four cloth caps left as many heads bare to the cold wind, Dave whistled a lugubrious march beneath his breath, and Wayne ran the flag upward into the darkness and the teeth of the March tempest.
“Hold on,” whispered Paddy. “Pull it down again!”
“What’s the matter?” asked the others.
“Why, don’t you see, they can get it down! Shall we allow our flag to be lowered? Never! So let’s cut the rope that the pillowcase is on. Then they’ll have nothing to lower it with!”
The others studied the problem a moment in silence. Then, “Well that sounds reasonable,” muttered Wayne. “Let’s try it anyway.” So the flag came down, and Paddy cut the halyards a few inches beneath it. Then the skull and crossbones was again hoisted, this time with scant ceremony, the severed length of rope was stuffed under Paddy’s jacket, and the four conspirators parted with muffled laughter. Above them in the wind-swept space the ominous standard flapped in the darkness.