“Well, we can’t unseat him now. The fellows are all in his wake. After all, maybe I exaggerated. He promised good behavior, and I don’t think he intends any wild capers. Our best plan is to join the rest and use our influence in keeping them closely to the night’s work.”
“Oh, we can’t back out now,” said Ray, leaning on the rail and looking down at the water that spurted upward in front of the prow as the boat made rapid headway toward Berkeley. “We will have to see it through, and perhaps it may turn out all right, though I don’t feel at all at ease. Your plan is undoubtedly the wisest, so let us make the best of it.”
Here the conversation dropped, and except for a few occasional remarks in low tones, the remainder of the trip was made in silence. After the first twenty minutes all the students moved forward to the front of the boat, where they stood in silent expectation of the sight of Park Hill, where the slumbering college lay.
It was a curious group that huddled there at the bow of the Geraldine, mysteriously masked, and bearing an air of grim determination that boded no good for any unfortunate Park College man that happened to be abroad at that hour of the night.
Suddenly we shot out from the shadow of the trees that darkened the bank of the river at that point, and came upon a stretch of open land rising gently to a plateau on which the college rested. In some respects the situation of Park College was not unlike our own, although Belmont had more shade, stood on higher ground, and close to a lake of considerable size, while Berkeley had no water beyond the narrow river. There was a dock somewhat similar to ours, though smaller, which jutted out into the stream, and toward this we faced. The bell sounded faintly from the engine room, the wheels ceased their beating, and we glided gently through the smooth water that rippled softly away from our bow. Slower and slower we moved until we had almost reached the dock, when one of our men dropped quietly over, with a rope on his arm. Then came a gentle bump as the boat grated against the dock, a quick knotting of the hawser, a slight straining and creaking of timbers, and the first step in our expedition was taken. We had “crossed the Rubicon.”
CHAPTER XI
A STARTLING DÉNOUEMENT
“Now then, Jerry,” said Clinton Edwards to old Captain Bunce, “you and your men stay quietly here and watch for us. Be ready to put off quickly, for we shall have no time to spare when we return.”
Falling naturally into ranks of three and four abreast, we moved cautiously up the rising land until we reached the level of the college ground, and stood in the shade of the trees at the outskirts of the rear campus. There we halted a moment, while Percy Randall gave the fellows a few whispered directions.
“What is your plan of action, Percy?” asked Edwards.