“An’ then.... They’ve been calling us stinkers, you know. We might shove somethin’ under--sulphur, or something that stunk pretty bad--an’ stink ’em out. I know it can be done somehow.” Beetle’s eyes turned to Stalky handling the diagrams. “Stinks?” said Stalky interrogatively. Then his face grew luminous with delight. “By gum! I’ve got it. Horrid stinks! Turkey!” He leaped at the Irishman. “This afternoon--just after Beetle went away! _She’s_ the very thing!” “Come to my arms, my beamish boy,” caroled McTurk, and they fell into each other’s arms dancing. “Oh, frabjous day! Calloo, callay! She will! She will!” “Hold on,” said Beetle. “I don’t understand.” “Dearr man! It shall, though. Oh, Artie, my pure-souled youth, let us tell our darling Reggie about Pestiferous Stinkadores.” “Not until after call-over. Come on!” “I say,” said Orrin, stiffly, as they fell into their places along the walls of the gymnasium. “The house are goin’ to hold another meeting.” “Hold away, then.” Stalky’s mind was elsewhere. “It’s about you three this time.” “All right, give ’em my love... _Here, sir_,” and he tore down the corridor. Gamboling like kids at play, with bounds and sidestarts, with caperings and curvetings, they led the almost bursting Beetle to the rabbit-lane, and from under a pile of stones drew forth the new-slain corpse of a cat. Then did Beetle see the inner meaning of what had gone before, and lifted up his voice in thanksgiving for that the world held warriors so wise as Stalky and McTurk. “Well-nourished old lady, ain’t she?” said Stalky. “How long d’you suppose it’ll take her to get a bit whiff in a confined space?” “Bit whiff! What a coarse brute you are!” said McTurk. “Can’t a poor pussy-cat get under King’s dormitory floor to die without your pursuin’ her with your foul innuendoes?” “What did she die under the floor for?” said Beetle, looking to the future. “Oh, they won’t worry about _that_ when they find her,” said Stalky. “A cat may look at a king.” McTurk rolled down the bank at his own jest. “Pussy, you don’t know how useful you’re goin’ to be to three pure-souled, high-minded boys.” “They’ll have to take up the floor for her, same as they did in Number Nine when the rat croaked. Big medicine--heap big medicine! Phew! Oh, Lord, I wish I could stop laughin’,” said Beetle. “Stinks! Hi, stinks! Clammy ones!” McTurk gasped as he regained his place. “And”--the exquisite humor of it brought them sliding down together in a tangle--“it’s all for the honor of the house, too!” “An’ they’re holdin’ another meeting--on us,” Stalky panted, his knees in the ditch and his face in the long grass. “Well, let’s get the bullet out of her and hurry up. The sooner she’s bedded out the better.” Between them they did some grisly work with a penknife; between them (ask not who buttoned her to his bosom) they took up the corpse and hastened back, Stalky arranging their plan of action at the full trot.