“Wasn’t it moocha wano?” he asked. “Just answer me that, Allan. Did anything ever go off more beautifully, with more--er--_éclat_, as we say in Paree? Is your Uncle Pete the boss, all-star bell-ringer? Did you get on to the expression, the--the phrasing? Did you----” “Shut up, Pete,” said Hal, grinning. “Tell us about it. Go on, like a good chap.” “There’s little to tell,” said Pete with becoming modesty. “Up there”--he pointed toward the ceiling--“is a loft. Over there is a bell. Bring a rope from the bell into the back window of the loft, down-stairs and through that door and--there you are! Quite simple.” “But, look here,” piped up Tommy. “You were at the window when the bell was doing its stunts. How--how was that?” “Simple, too,” answered Pete, waving aside a cloud of smoke. “There was a noose in the end of the rope and the noose fitted over my knee as I kneeled on the floor. It was hard work and I guess the hide’s about wore off, but it was all for the sake of Art.” The three deluged him with questions simultaneously, and Pete, sitting nonchalantly on the edge of the table, answered them as best he could. “But how about the rope?” asked Allan finally. “They’ll see it and trace it through the window.” “Oh, no, they won’t, because, my boy, it isn’t there any longer. When I said I’d put something on and let you fellows in, I cut it off at the foot of the tower and brought my end of it away. They’ll find a rope there, all right, but they’ll never guess it went through the back window. Besides, I can prove an alibi,” he ended, with a generous and virtuous smile. “That’s so,” answered Tommy. “We saw you at the window.” “When the bell was ringing,” added Hal. “And I saw both his hands,” supplemented Allan. “Yes, I meant you should,” said Pete. Going to the trunk he took from behind it the lariat which usually hung on the wall, and from one end of it detached a few feet of hemp rope. This he put into the stove. The lariat he replaced upon the wall. “Thus we destroy all evidences of guilt,” he said. CHAPTER XIX PETE PUTS THE SHOT For a few days following the mysterious serenade on the fire-bell there was an epidemic of mild colds throughout the college; and as each fellow who had a cold was able and eager to tell--through his nose--what had happened at the fire-house, it would seem that there might have been some connection between the affliction and the midnight occurrence. But no serious illness resulted, and so we may leniently assert that no harm came of Pete’s joke.