"Ginny Cox did build that snowlady--Isobel saw her. But if she gives herself up she'll be sent to Siberia!" "Well, it'll serve her right. She needn't have picked out poor little Miss Gray to make fun of." Gyp frowned at the interruption. "Of course not. _We_ know all about Miss Gray and feel sorry for her, but Ginny doesn't. And, anyway, that isn't the point. I was talking about loyalty to Lincoln." Gyp made her tone very solemn. "Disgrace--everlasting, eternal, black disgrace threatens the very foundations of our dear school!" She paused, eloquently. "Next week, Tuesday, our All-Lincoln girls' basketball team plays our deadly enemy, South High. And what will happen without Ginny Cox? Who _else_ can make the baskets she can? Defeat--ignominious defeat will be our sad lot----" Her voice trailed off in a wail that found its echo in every Raven's heart. "I'd forgotten the game! _What_ a shame!" "Why _couldn't_ Ginny have thought of that?" "Maybe Doc. Caton will just let her play that once." "Not he--he's like iron. Didn't he send Bob Morely down for three whole days just before the Thanksgiving game 'cause he got up in Caesar class and translated 'bout the 'Garlic Wars'?" Gyp sensed the psychological moment to strike. "Never before in the history of our secret order has such an opportunity to serve our school been given to us----" "What can we do?" "One of us can offer ourself on the altar of loyalty----" Her meaning, stripped of its eloquent verbage, slowly dawned upon six minds! A murmur of protest threatened to become a roar. Gyp hastily dropped her fine oratory and pleaded humbly: "It's so _little_ for one of us to do compared to what it means, and if we _didn't_ do it and South High beat us, why, we'd suffer lots more with remorse than we would just taking Ginny's punishment for her. Anyway, what did the promise we solemnly made _mean_? Nothing? We're a nice bunch! _I'm_ perfectly willing to take Ginny Cox's place, but I think each Raven ought to have the chance and we should draw lots----" "Yes, that would be the fairest way," agreed Pat Everett in a tone that suggested someone had died just the moment before. "I always draw the unlucky number in everything," shivered Peggy Lee. "There'll have to be two this time, then, for I always do, too," groaned a sister Raven. "Shall we do it, girls? Shall we prove to the world that we Ravens can make any sacrifice for our school?" "Yes--yes," came thickly from paralyzed throats. In a dead silence Gyp and Pat prepared seven slips of paper. Six were blank; upon the seventh Pat drew a long snake with head uplifted, ready to strike. The slips were carefully folded and shaken in Jerry's hat. Gyp put the hat in the middle of the room. "Let's each one go up with her eyes shut tight and draw a slip. Then don't open it until the last one has been drawn." They all agreed--if they had to do it they might as well make the ceremony as much of a torture as possible!