They left the statue and threw themselves prostrate on the grass to await the passing by of the person whose footsteps they had heard. It was a man, evidently belated and walking rapidly down the street. And he never dreamed that, less than forty feet away from him, a group of mischievous boys were about to commit an act of vandalism unlicensed and unwarranted even by the rules and customs of Hallowe’en. Removing the cobbler’s sign had been taking sufficiently daring liberties with the property of other people, and fastening it to Mr. Barriscale’s gate-post had been hardly a meritorious invasion of the rights of private persons, even though it had all been done by virtue of the license assumed to be granted to Hallowe’en revelers. But what was now contemplated went far beyond the limit of harmless mischief, and the project, if carried to completion, would become not only a violation of law, but of good manners and good morals as well. Yet Hal was the only one of the company who appeared to look upon it in this light. And when the sound of passing footsteps had died away in the distance, and bodies were raised from the grass, he again protested. “We’re getting in too deep,” he whispered. “It isn’t right. It isn’t fair. It’s carrying the thing too far.” “We won’t carry it far,” replied Slicker. “Just up street a ways an’ drop it on somebody’s porch.” “You know what I mean,” insisted Hal. “I’m ready for fun, or mischief either, up to a certain limit. But this is going beyond the limit.” “Aw! you’re a piker! If you don’t like what we’re goin’ to do, you can take a sneak an’ go home. Come on, fellows! Who’s game?” From the response it appeared that every one in the crowd was game except Hal. His judgment had been overruled and he made no further objection. But he did not “take a sneak.” “All right!” he said. “If you fellows think it’s decent, and think you can get away with it, I’ll go along; but I’m not crazy about the job, I can tell you.” That settled it. There was no other protest, and the process of removal began at once. Two boys, one at each end, lifted the statue carefully from its resting place. But then an accident happened. Slicker, leaning too far toward the fountain in his effort at assistance, tumbled inadvertently into the basin. The boys, frightened at the mishap, lowered their burden to the grass, dropped on their knees, and awaited developments. It was possible that the noise of the splash might arouse the inmates of the house and lead to an investigation. Wet to his waist the victim of misplaced confidence in his own ability to preserve his balance, dragged himself slowly up across the rim of the basin, and joined his drooping comrades on the lawn. No one laughed. It was too serious a moment. Slicker himself was the first to speak. “Gee!” he whispered through his chattering teeth, “that water’s cold.” Then Hal had his innings. “You’re the guy,” he said, “that better take a sneak for home, and get some dry duds on.”