The Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour | Page 8

keep his own eyes from being dazzled by the glow.
"There he is!" shrilled Bobolink, suddenly; "over by the window on the left!"
Impetuous by nature, he made a dive in the direction indicated, only speedily to come to grief; for he tripped over some hair cushions that may have been purposely thrown into the aisle, and measured his length on the floor.
Paul had himself discovered a moving figure over in the quarter mentioned. There could not be the slightest doubt about it being a boy, he believed, and in the hope of at least getting near enough to recognize the interloper, he hastened forward as fast as policy would permit.
With that lamp in his hand he did not want to follow the sad example of Bobolink for such an accident might result in setting fire to the building.
Now the figure began to put on more speed. Evidently the escaping party believed there was considerable danger of his being caught; and could guess what must follow if he fell into the hands of the aroused scouts.
Just in time did Paul discover that a piece of clothes line, probably taken from a yard close by, had been cleverly fastened across the aisle about six inches from the floor. It was undoubtedly intended to trip any who unguardedly came along that way.
"'Ware the rope, fellows!" he called back over his shoulder; for some of his comrades were pushing hotly after him.
The warning came too late, for there was a crash as one scout made a dive; and from the various cries that immediately arose Paul judged that the balance of the detail had swarmed upon the fallen leader, just as though they had the pigskin oval down on the football field.
By now the escaping figure had reached the open window through which he must have entered some time previously, taking time to lay these various traps by means of which he expected to baffle pursuit.
Paul believed that such an ingenious artifice could have originated in no brain save that of Ted Slavin, or possibly his crony, Ward Kenwood. Hence he was trying his best to discover something familiar about the figure now clambering up over the windowsill.
The balance of the scouts had managed to scramble to their feet after that jarring tumble; and were even then at his heels, grumbling and limping.
"It's Ted himself, that's what!" called Bobolink, at this exciting juncture.
The fellow turned his head while crouching in the window, just ready to drop outside. Paul could hardly keep from laughing at what he saw. Possibly foreseeing some such predicament as this, and not wishing to have his identity known if it could be avoided, what had the daring bell-ringer done but assumed an old mask that might have been a part of a Valentine night's fun, or even a left-over from last Hallowe'en frolic.
At any rate it was a coal-black face that Paul saw, with a broad grin capable of no further expansion.
"Yah! yah! yah!" laughed the pretended darky, as he waved a hand mockingly in their direction, and then vanished from view.
Paul thought he recognized something familiar about the voice, though he could not be absolutely certain. And it was not the bully of Stanhope, Ted Slavin, that he had in mind, either.
There arose a chorus of bitter cries of disappointment, showing how the scouts felt over the escape of the intruder who had played such a successful practical joke on the troop.
"He's skidooed!" exclaimed Bobolink, in disgust. "Wouldn't that just jar you some, fellows?"
"There goes William through the window after him! Bully boy, William! Hope you get a grip on the sneak!" cried Nuthin, who was rubbing his right shin as though it had been barked when he sprawled over the rope.
"Say, perhaps the boys outside may get him!" gasped another scout, who must have had the breath squeezed out of his lungs when the balance of the eager squad fell over him heavily, making a cushion of his body.
"Only hope they do," grumbled Nuthin. "But say, what's that you've picked up, Paul? Looks mighty like a hat!"
"It is a hat, and fellows, I've got a pretty good notion I've seen it before," responded the scout leader, as he held the object aloft.
The others crowded around, every eye fastened on the article picked up by Paul just under the window that had afforded the fugitive a chance to escape.
"It's Ward's lid, as sure as you live!" declared Bobolink, immediately.
"That's what it is," observed another, with conviction in his tone; "ain't I had it in my hands more'n once at school? That was Ward in here, doing these stunts!"
"Well," added Paul, cautiously, "it looks that way; but how do we know? We didn't see his face, you remember. It might be another fellow wearing his hat. This might satisfy the trustees