“Well, can’t you think of one?” “No, I can’t. I’d like to get square with him, though.” “Put him out of business you mean—so he couldn’t pitch for a while?” asked the bully. “That would do, yes.” “You might put up a job to burn his hands with acid in chemistry class some day. Just a little burn would do. You could say it was an accident.” “No, that’s too risky,” remarked Mersfeld, after thinking it over. “I’d like to have it come about naturally. Now if he or his brothers would try some trick, and get caught—suspended by the faculty for a month—or laid off from athletics, that would do. But the Smith fellows seem to have given up pranks lately, and have buckled down to lessons. I guess they’re afraid.” North did not answer for a few moments. He walked along, apparently deeply thinking. Suddenly he exclaimed: “I believe I have it! Get them caught while doing some fool cut-up thing, such as is always going on around here. That would do it, if we can get them into something desperate enough so they’ll be suspended. Fine!” “Yes, it’s all very well enough to say ‘fine!’ But how are you going to work it? Haven’t I told you that they’ve cut out jokes?” “That’s all right. We can get ’em into the game again.” “How?” “Easy enough. All they need is to have some one to make a suggestion. They’ll fall into line quickly enough, and then—have McNibb catch ’em in the act, and it’s all off with their baseball. I haven’t any love for ’em, either, and I’d like to see ’em out of the game. They don’t belong in our class here.” “Oh, they’re all right, but they think they’re the whole show,” complained the pitcher bitterly. “All I ask is for Bill Smith to get out of the box, and let me in. I can do as good as he!” “Of course you can,” agreed North, though if Mersfeld could have seen the covert sneer in the bully’s smile perhaps he would not have been so friendly with him. “Well, if you’ll help, I’ll work it. We’ll have ’em caught in the act—say painting the Weston statue red or green—that ought to fetch ’em.” “Yes, but how are you going to arrange to have ’em caught?” asked Mersfeld. “Easy enough. Here’s my game,” went on North. “First we’ll propose to Bill or Cap, or to the other brother, that as things around the school are a little dull, they ought to be livened up. They’ll bite at the bait, for they like fun, and when they hear that it would be a good stunt to decorate the big bronze statue of old man Weston, in front of the main building with green or red paint, they’ll fall for it.” “Yes, but they know enough not to get caught, even if they go into the trick.” “They can’t help being caught the way we’ll work it,” was the crafty reply. “Why not?” “Because the night they select for the joke—and we’ll know when it is—there’ll be an anonymous letter dropped at Proctor McNibb’s door, telling him what is going to be pulled off. He’ll get on the job, and catch the Smith boys at the game. How’s that?” Mersfeld meditated a moment.