The Senior’s stone at Westfield was an ancient and honorable institution. I forgot how many years it had occupied a spot on the campus, and, as Bill said, the graduates always gathered about it at Commencement and had “doings” there. The stone, which was of meteoric origin, was very heavy, and was considered almost sacred to the upper class. Freshmen were required by school tradition to take off their hats when passing it. “Now what do you say to it?” asked Cap, when the idea had sufficiently filtered through the minds of his brothers and their visitor. “Wouldn’t that be worth doing?” “If we could manage it,” answered Pete. “But it’s infernally heavy, and how could we shift it?” “Easy,” answered Cap. “I’ve got it all worked out.” “It would take half the class to carry it,” went on Bill, “and if we get a crowd like that out on the campus at night the faculty would be on in a minute, to say nothing of the Seniors.” “I don’t intend that half the Freshman class, or even ten members of it shall have a part in it,” went on Cap. “We four are enough.” “What, to move that big stone?” cried Bill. “Hush!” exclaimed his elder brother. “Do you want to give the scheme away? Not so loud. Evidently you haven’t studied physics lately; and the principles of the wedge, lever, pulleys and the like are lost on you. I have the very machine needed to move the stone, and if you fellows will help we can do it to-night.” “Of course we’ll help!” said Pete. “We haven’t done much lately,” added Whistle-Breeches. “I’m with you. But why to-night? It’s late now.” “So much the better. We can get out without any one seeing us. Besides the Seniors are having a class meeting to-night and they won’t spot us. If you’re ready come on.” The others hesitated a moment, and then prepared to follow Cap. That leader, having ascertained by a careful observation that the coast was clear below, let himself out into the corridor, went down it a short distance to see that no scouting monitor was on the alert, and then signalled to his brothers and Whistle-Breeches. A little later four shadowy forms, skirting along in the darkness made their way softly out of the school grounds. “Where are you going?” asked Bill, as Cap led them along a road which was dug up for the putting in of a sewer and water system. “This is as bad as crossing the Alps.” “Well, beyond the Alps lies Italy, and beyond these dirt piles is the machine we need for moving the Senior stone, my lads,” was Cap’s whispered answer. “Come on, we are almost there.” They proceeded in silence until there came a sudden cry of dismay from Bill. “What’s the matter?” inquired Cap. “Oh, I stumbled in a hole! Say, it’s as dark as red ink, and full of gullies along here.” “You’re as bad as Beantoe,” declared Pete. “Come on. How much farther, Cap?”