MOVING THE SENIOR STONE
“It occurs to me,” remarked Cap Smith one evening about a week after
the hazing, when his two brothers and Whistle-Breeches had foregathered
in the elder Smith lad’s room for a talk, “it occurs to me, fellows,
that we’re not doing much to uphold the honor and dignity of the
Freshman class. What about it?”
“Not doing much?” demanded Bill. “Say, didn’t we put it all over the
fellows who tried to haze us?”
“Yes, for the time being, but they caught us later, and man-handled
us about twice as badly as if we’d let them carry out the original
program,” answered Cap musingly.
“Well, didn’t we win the cane rush, and can’t we carry our sticks?”
asked Pete as he mended a broken bat in anticipation of spring.
“Yes,” admitted Cap, “we did win the rush, and we ought to have, for
the Freshman class is big this term. That’s what I’m complaining of,
it’s so big, and there are such a lot of fine fellows in it—not to
mention ourselves—that it ought to do something to make its name known
and feared for generations to come in the annals of Westfield.”
“Meaning just what?” asked Whistle-Breeches, as he carefully marked a
page in his algebra, lest he forget it.
“Meaning that we ought to get busy. Now have you fellows anything to
propose?”
“We might paint the class numerals on the bell tower. That hasn’t been
done in a couple of years I understand,” spoke Bill.
“Childish,” was Cap’s objection.
“Let’s go about town, changing all the signs in front of the stores,”
came from Pete. “The Freshmen did that one year, and a chap with a pair
of shoes to fix took them into a millinery joint. That would be sport.”
“Regular high-school game,” was what Cap said. “That’s old. Think of
something new.”
“Besides, it isn’t altogether safe,” added Whistle-Breeches. “I tried
to get some signs for my room the other day, and I did get a nice one
from a ladies’ hair dressing parlor, but the proprietor turned out
to be a man, and he spotted me. It cost me just seven-fifty for that
sign. I could have had one made for a dollar. I’m not stuck on the sign
racket. But, Cap, how about taking down the Junior flag pole? We could
dig it up some dark night and shift it over to the football field.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad,” remarked Cap condescendingly. “But I have
what I think is a better plan. You know that big meteor, or piece of a
meteor, that stands just off the middle of the main campus?”
“The Senior stone?” asked Bill.
“That’s it. Now what’s the matter with taking that and depositing it on
the college front steps some dark night?”
“What, move the Senior stone?” cried Whistle-Breeches aghast.
“Exactly,” answered Cap, “it isn’t chained down; is it?”
“No, but it weighs several tons,” declared Bill, “and besides it is
almost sacred. Why, it’s a piece of a meteor that some polar discoverer
brought back and presented to the school. The Seniors have always
claimed it, and that’s where they hold their farewell doings every
commencement.”
“I know it,” said Cap. “All the more reason for moving it. The meteor
must be tired of staying so long in one place. Besides we owe the
Seniors something, for the way they turned in and helped the Juniors
haze us this term.”
“But—move the Senior stone!” gasped Pete, as if it was a crime unheard
of.
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?”
“It’s around here somewhere I think. I spotted it to-day as I was
coming from town, and that’s how I happened to think of the scheme. Ah,
here it is,” and in the semi-darkness he went over to something that
looked like half of a wagon truck. It consisted of two high wheels,
with an iron arrangement between them, a long pole or lever and several
chains.
“What’s that, for the love of tripe?” demanded Bill.
“That,” said Cap, “is a stone-carrier, a pipe-carrier, a stump-puller
and is also used in a variety of other ways to lift heavy weights
and transport them from one place to another. The technical name has
escaped me, but I think that will answer you,” and with this delivered
in his best class room style, Cap took hold of the long pole and began
moving the machine out from amid a pile of sewer and water pipes.
“Say, I believe that _will_ do the trick!” exclaimed Bill admiringly.
“Of course it will,” declared Cap. “Come on, now. We haven’t any too
much time, for the Seniors may come out of meeting any minute, and some
may take a notion to stroll around the campus, though it’s not likely.”
Behold the conspirators then, a little later, trundling the big
two-wheeled affair along the dark road. Fortunately the dirt was
thick, and the machine made no noise. Also the campus grass was long
and soft and the wheels rolled smoothly along.
A careful bit of scout-work on the part of Bill, a cautious approach
and soon the plotters were beside the meteor ready to fasten the chains
around it, lift the heavy weight by the enormous leverage of the long
handle, and wheel it to the main school steps.
Cap and Bill adjusted the chains, handling them with care, so that they
would not rattle. The links were soon fastened about the stone.
“All ready now?” asked Cap in a whisper, as he took his place at the
lever.
“Let her go,” answered Pete.
Cap and his two brothers bore down on the handle. Something began to
give. Suddenly there was a hoarsely whispered appeal.
“Oh! For cats’ sake! You’ve got my foot caught in the chains! You’re
lifting me with the rock!”
It was the unfortunate Whistle-Breeches who had been stationed near the
meteor to steady it when it was raised from its ancient bed.
“Hurry up, get loose!” commanded Cap, and he and the others raised the
pole until the chains were slackened sufficiently for Donald to get his
foot out.
“All right, go ahead!” he called.
There was a creaking of wood and metal. The big lever came slowly down.
More slowly Whistle-Breeches saw the meteor being raised. At last it
was free from the ground, and was slung, in the chains, between the two
big wheels.
“All right!” he whispered. “She’s free!”
“Come on then,” ordered Cap, and they started across the campus,
pulling after them the Senior stone, which from the time when the mind
of man ran not to the contrary, had reposed in a place of honor. Now it
was moved.
“Right in the middle of the steps,” suggested Cap, and they bent their
course in that direction. A little later the heavy stone, weighing
several tons, was carefully lowered on the big paving flag that marked
the beginning of the main school entrance.
“I rather guess they’ll open their eyes when they see that,” said Cap,
as he wheeled the machine away, and stood off to observe the effect.
Truly the meteor rested in a strange place.
“Come on—no time for artistic observation,” suggested Bill. “We may
get caught. Let’s make a get-away.”
“Sure,” agreed Whistle-Breeches, and silently through the darkness they
sped with the wheeled affair.
As they were leaving the college grounds they heard some one
approaching along the road which they must take to return the lifter.
“Some one’s coming! Duck!” whispered Cap hoarsely.
“And leave this?” asked Bill.
“Sure. Shove it into the bushes.”
They tried to carry out this plan, but, even as they were doing so some
one came into sight. There was just light enough to see that the man
was Professor Landmore of the science class, and at the sight of him
the four lads, abandoning the machine, made a headlong dive for the
bushes.
“Who’s there?” demanded the professor, suddenly halting.
No answer, of course; only the sound of hurried flight.
“I demand to know if you are Westfield lads!” went on the instructor
vigorously.
“Think he recognized us?” asked Bill, as they paused for breath, for
they were now well hidden.
“I don’t think so,” answered Cap, peering through the bushes.
“He’s gone to look at the two wheels,” reported Bill, who was also
making an observation.
“Then we’re safe,” decided Cap. “He’ll make a book of notes about it,
and calculate how much more weight it could lift if it had bigger
wheels, and a lever twice as long. Come on, we’ll get back to our
little beds,” and he started away as stealthily as possible.
“But won’t he see the machine, and know how the stone was moved?” asked
Pete.
“What of it? We can’t help it, and even a member of the Senior class in
differential calculus and strength of material will know that meteor
couldn’t move of itself. As long as Prof. didn’t see us I don’t care.
Come on.”
And, before they made their silent ways into their rooms that night,
the four conspirators took another look at the big stone of Senior
fame, resting in its unaccustomed place.
“There’ll be a row in the morning,” was Cap’s opinion.