s, and he
wears a wig. It's out on the window sill to air, and I think I can
hook it."

"Oh, young gentlemen, don't, I beg of you!" expostulated the janitor.
But they paid no heed to him, and hurried off with the long poker,
while the studious janitor, to drown his apprehension, took up a Latin
book which he was struggling through, endeavoring to educate himself in
the classics.

Tom was engaged in the exciting, if forbidden, sport of trying to lift
the wig of the unfortunate professor from the ledge beneath his room
window, when there came a knock on his door.

"Oh ho!" ejaculated Bruce Bennington, as he entered. "Up to your old
tricks, I see. Well I can't blame you. I did the same thing once.
What are you after, a bottle of pop?"

"A wig," explained Tom, briefly. "Want a try for it?"

"Not me. I've got to walk pretty straight you know. I'm regarded as a
sort of professor now, and I suppose, if I did my strict duty, I'd
report you. But I'm off duty to-night. I say, Tom, are you ready now
for that experiment I spoke of?"

"Sure I am. But--" and Tom looked suggestively at the poker and
motioned downward to where the wig was still reposing.

"We'll get it up while you're gone," said Jack.

"You will not!" cried Tom. "Do you think I want to miss all the fun?
Wait until I get back. Will your experiment take long, Bruce?"

"It may take most of the evening. But the wig will keep, and you may
think up a better plan in regard to it. Why not substitute another for
it while you're at it?"

"By Jove! The very thing!" cried Jack.

"You can get one while you're in town if you like," went on Bruce
dryly, "for I'm going to drag you off to town, Tom."

"Good! I'm with you. Mind now," he cautioned his chums, "don't touch
that wig until I get back."

They promised, and, though wondering what Bruce had in mind, they asked
no questions.

"I guess it's safe to run the guard to-night," remarked Bruce, as he
and Tom crossed the campus on their way to the trolley line running
into Elmwood.

"Oh, sure," assented our hero. "But what's in the wind?"

"I'm going to prove to you that it would be bad policy to make a class
matter of sending Sam to Coventry, or of trying to run him out of the
school. And to do that I invite you to have a little lunch with me in
town."

"All right," assented Tom, wondering what his friend had in store for
him.

A little later they were seated in a private room in one of the