He paused to look at the three brothers. They did not answer for a moment. Then Bill exclaimed: “Say, is that what you mean—to paint the statue?” Chapin nodded slowly. “It’s—sacrilege,” whispered Cap. “Only an iconoclast would dare think of such a thing,” declared Bill. “But—” there was an eager light in his eyes. “It was done once, years ago,” proceeded the tempter, “and the whole Freshman class was suspended for a week, as the faculty couldn’t find out who did it. It has been many, many, weary years since such an honor fell upon us Freshmen,” and he sighed deeply, as though in pain. “By Jove!” exclaimed Cap softly. The daring plot appealed to him, conservative as he was. “How did they get the paint off?” asked Pete. “It had to wear off,” replied Chapin. “But I don’t want to do anything like that. We can use water colors, and they won’t spoil the bronze, and really it would be a little too rotten to make such a mess of it. Just tint it a light Alice blue, or a dainty Helen pink—it will wash off, but it will look pretty for a while, and the freshmen class will have made a name for itself that it can be proud of. Are you with me? It can easily be done, and the chances are we won’t be caught. How about it?” “I’ll do it!” exclaimed Bill quickly. “I don’t know,” began Cap. “Oh, come on,” urged Pete. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had any fun.” “If we’re caught, it means good-bye to balls and bats,” went on the eldest brother. “But we won’t be caught,” declared Chapin eagerly. “Besides, what if we are—that’s half the fun.” “All right, go ahead,” agreed Cap. “Might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb, I guess. I’m in on it.” “Now about the paint,” went on the tempter, as he again listened at the door. “We’ll have to be careful where we get it, as McNibb is a regular detective for following a clue. It ought to be bought out of town.” “That’s so,” agreed Pete. “Hold on, I have it!” cried Bill, after a moment’s thought. “Professor Clatter.” “Professor Clatter?” inquired Chapin. “You mean that medicine man with his queer wagon?” “Exactly,” went on the pitcher. “I saw him in town the other day, and he said he was coming back to play a return engagement near here. He’s got some new kind of stomach dope or something like that. Besides, he has some patent face powder that he says he got at a bargain, and he’s going to try and work it off on the ladies in the crowd. It’s a beautiful pink, and it’s harmless. I was looking at a box of it, and it got on my hands. Say, for a few minutes I had the nicest baby complexion you’d want to see. But it all washed off as easily as soap.” “Well, what’s the answer?” asked Chapin, as Bill paused. “Why we’ll get some of that powder from the professor, mix it up, and use it on the statute. It will come off easily and I defy Proctor McNibb to trace where it came from. The professor is a friend of ours, and he’ll keep mum.” “The very thing!” cried the visitor. “When can you get it?”