“If you wish to catch the vandals, be on hand near the statue shortly after midnight,” the anonymous epistle went on. Now the proctor was an honorable man, and usually did not pay much attention to unsigned letters. But here was one he felt that he must heed. Where it had come from he did not bother his head about. “Some upper classmen, who have given over such sacrilegious horse-play may have sent it,” he argued, “or the townsman from whom the paint was purchased may have been stricken with remorse, or have a fear that he will be found out. At any rate I’ll catch them red-handed. No, pink-handed I guess,” and the proctor smiled at his joke. The official’s surprise may be imagined when, shortly after the receipt of the first letter, he got another. Our friends had a spy, in the person of one of the janitors, who did work in that part of the school where Mr. McNibb had his rooms, and the janitor at once informed Bill when there were signs of unusual activity in the proctor’s office. “It’s their letter!” declared Bill. “Now for ours!” and it was sent, disclosing the information that the would-be painters of the statue would be hidden in the clump of rhododendron bushes. Then there was a busy time for our friends. Throwing in his lot with the Smith boys and Whistle-Breeches, Bob Chapin helped them in the plot, by pretending to keep Mersfeld and North posted. “You can hide in the bushes, just as you planned,” said the languid youth to them. “And see the fun?” eagerly asked Mersfeld. “Will they be on hand?” “Oh, they’ll be on hand all right,” said Bob, and there was a grim smile on his face, which the plotters did not observe. So anxious were they to be present, and see the Smith boys captured, that Mersfeld and North left their rooms early. This was the cue for Bill and his brothers to make their way to the enemies’ apartments, and, by scattering around a little of the pink mixture, give the idea, to a casual observer, that the coloring stuff had been prepared there. In the meanwhile, and before the two lads who had planned to get their classmates in trouble had gone to their hiding place, several pails of the pink mixture had been hidden in the clump of bushes. Strings led from the pails to behind a stone wall, where Bill, his brothers, together with Whistle-Breeches and Bob, would hide. At the proper time the strings would be pulled, and the stuff upset. This would be additional evidence against the two plotters. “Well, I guess it’s about time for us to go out,” said Cap, as midnight approached, that hour, having been suggested to Bob by the plotters. “Go easy, now, for McNibb may have spotters posted.” “No, I think not,” said Bob. “He’ll depend on catching us at the statue. Oh, wow! Won’t those fellows be surprised!” Mersfeld and North were in hiding. They had been waiting for some time. “Hang it all!” muttered the deposed Varsity pitcher, “why don’t they come?” “Oh, they’ll be here all right.”