Sid stole carefully along to a spot near the edge of the river, where a clump of big elm trees grew. This was near the bridge on the road to Haddonfield. The spot was lonely and deserted enough at this hour to suit his purpose, and the dusk of the evening, being added to by clouds, and by the shadows of the trees, made concealment easy. "I guess that's Wallops," murmured Sid as he peered out from behind a tree. "That walks like Wallops, and he's got a bundle under his arm. Now for a grand transformation scene." Awaiting the psychological moment, Sid hurried out, and bumped into the college messenger. Wallops' bundle was knocked from under his arm, and, by a strange coincidence, so was Sid's. "I beg your pardon!" exclaimed the student in an assumed voice. "Awfully careless of me, I'm sure. I beg a thousand pardons! I was in a hurry, and I didn't notice you. Is this the road to Haddonfield?" "That's all right," replied Wallops good naturedly as his pardon was begged again. "Yes, keep straight on, and you'll come to the trolley that runs to Haddonfield." "Let me restore your bundle to you," went on Sid, picking up both parcels. He handed one to the messenger, and kept one himself. "'Twas yours, 'tis mine; 'twas his, 'tis ours," he paraphrased. "Again let me express my sincere sorrow at this happening. I trust there was nothing in your package that could be damaged when I knocked it from your grasp." "No, nothing but some clothes of one of the college professors. It's all right." "And I'm sure my package isn't damaged," said Sid, in a queer voice, as he hurried away. A little later he was telling Tom, with much mirth, how it all came about. The two, in the seclusion of their room, opened the bundle, and saw two suits, one full dress. "Won't he howl when he finds nothing but a lot of newspapers!" exclaimed Sid. "Now for the rest of the trick." "Maybe he'll borrow a dress suit from some student," said Tom. "Not much he won't," replied Sid. "I thought of that, and I forwarded a message by wireless to all the dormitories that if Pitchfork sent around to borrow some glad rags, he was to be refused on some pretext or other." Sid's precaution was well taken. A little later it was evident that something unusual had occurred. Wallops and several other college messengers were seen hurrying first to the rooms of one professor, then to the apartments of another. Each time the scouts came back empty-handed to that part of the faculty residence where Professor Tines dwelt. "I knew they had no spike-tails that would fit him," exulted Sid. "Besides, most of them are going to the reception themselves."