Littlefield crept into Melvin’s bed that night with a sense of security that he had not felt for weeks, and was soon in a deep, restful sleep. Melvin undressed in his own room, and then slipped across the hall in pajamas to the little Prep’s room, turned on the electric light, and surveyed the field. His first act was to clear away the lighter furniture, so as to leave an open space about the window at which the disturbance was wont to occur. Then he filled two pitchers with water and placed them in convenient positions, one close to the corner of the bed, the other against the wall opposite. When this was done, he adjusted the window-sashes after the usual arrangement, and at the top of the lower sash, in the corner nearest the bed, fastened a nail. To this he attached one end of a string, and taking the other end with him as he jumped into bed, he drew it tight and tied it to his finger.

“Now if I can only keep my hand quiet,” he thought as he lay down, “any movement of the window ought to rouse me; but I suppose I shall begin to roll as soon as I am asleep, and get the string loose, or wake myself a dozen times for nothing. I’ll give it a trial, anyway.”

Healthy and unworried, Dick fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. In his sleep he turned slightly in bed and threw one arm above his head, so that the pressure of the cord on his finger made itself felt. The pressure occasioned a dream, and the dream at length brought him back to consciousness. He seemed to be struggling vainly to free himself from one of the gymnasium rings, to which he was hanging by a single finger. He squirmed and twisted and strove to cast it off, but despite his struggles the ring still clung to the finger, and the finger still clutched the ring. He awoke with a frightened start, relieved to discover that he was free from the ugly predicament, yet still under the spell of the vague terror of the vision. With quickened breath and straining ears, he listened to make sure there was no other reason for his waking. Except for the distant, labored puffing of a night freight, as it worked its way through the edge of the town, the silence was absolute.

Muttering reproaches to himself for the undefined dread that crept into his heart as he felt the depressing influence of the darkness and quiet, and the solitary waiting for an unknown assailant, he turned over and settled himself once more in a comfortable position for sleeping. The rumbling of the ponderous train died gradually away in the distance, leaving a stillness unnatural and oppressive.

“I don’t wonder that the little chap’s nerves are unstrung,” thought Dick. “I can feel my heart throb all over my body.”

The watcher’s nervous tension gradually slackened, and he was just falling into a doze, when the scrape of a rubber sole on a stone surface brought him instantly to attention, as the nodding fisherman starts with the first tug at his line. The sound came clear in the dead silence, repeated at close intervals as the mysterious visitor crept along the ledge, setting foot after foot slowly and carefully in place.

At the first distinct noise Melvin had lifted himself upright in bed and listened intently and fearfully, with his heart madly thumping. Then as the steps drew nearer, and he realized that the opportunity which he had longed for was really to be granted, that the perpetrator of the crazy night pranks would soon be delivered into his hand, the uncanny spell of the night was instantly broken. Throwing off the useless noose from his finger, he slipped out of bed, and took his stand close to the wall beside the window.

It was a moonless night of flying clouds, and Melvin, peeping round the window casing, could barely distinguish the vague outline of the man outside, who, clinging to the window stops, was now trying to raise the lower sash.

“I’ll bet I know you, you lunatic!” thought Melvin, drawing back as the sash slowly lifted. “We’ll see who has the fun out of this night’s adventure.”

The visitor now had the window high enough to admit his head and shoulders; Melvin could hear the shirt scrape against the bottom of the sash as the intruder worked himself cautiously in. From this sound, as well as the noise of breathing, the waiting senior knew that his quarry was within the room as far as the waist. Was this the time to strike? Would the fellow come in still farther, or merely yell and withdraw beyond reach? In a flash Dick considered the question and came to his decision.

The intruder paused, listening for a sound from the bed. Then Dick heard the drawing of a long deep breath, and knew what it meant. A groan, awesome and sepulchral, broke the nocturnal stillness, then suddenly choked and ended in a gasp. Two strong arms caught the prowler’s waist like the jaws of a steel trap, and jerked the floundering legs through the window into the room.

Both went down together to the floor, when with the recollection that the owner of the room could not really be a very powerful adversary, the intruder recovered his presence of mind and fighting spirit. Sure of his prey, Dick let himself be rolled toward the side of the room where one of the pitchers stood; then with a quick wrestler’s turn he twisted himself on top, found the pitcher and emptied it on his enemy’s head.

While the prostrate boy gulped and sputtered and coughed, Melvin freed himself and groped his way to the electric light.

“I thought so,” he said coolly, as the light flashed upon Tompkins’s dripping head and the pool on the floor. “Come, my wild Western Injun, Brave-Man-not-afraid-of-the-Dark, who makes a specialty of frightening little boys! Take that towel and help mop up this water.”

They worked for a few minutes without a word. When the task was finished, Melvin tossed Tompkins a steamer rug from Littlefield’s sofa, and pointed to a chair.

“Wrap yourself up and sit down. This thing has got to be straightened out before we part. What have you to say for yourself?”

“Nothing.” Tompkins spoke for the first time.

“Great sport, isn’t it, to scare a timid little chap into brain fever! I always thought you were half fool, but I never knew before that you were such a coward.”

“I’m not a coward!” retorted Tompkins, aroused. “I didn’t mean to hurt the boy, I was just having a little fun.”

“Why didn’t you try it on me then, or some other fellow of your size?”

“It wouldn’t have been any fun.”

“And for the sake of your amusement you keep Littlefield in fear of his life for weeks. If that isn’t cowardly, what is it?”

“It’s selfish, I admit,” said Tompkins, soberly, “and mean, but not cowardly.”

“Call it selfish and mean, then,” continued Melvin, “if you prefer. Here you are chosen by the school to be pitcher on the nine, a position of honor and responsibility, and you behave like a monkey, doing all sorts of fool tricks, any one of which the Faculty would think ample reason for firing you. What do you call that? It seems to me like a breach of trust.”

“I don’t know,” answered the culprit.

“It’s just as if some one were to give you a thousand dollars to keep for him and you agreed to take care of it, and then spent it for your amusement.”

To this Tompkins said nothing at all. The senior paused a minute for a reply, and then continued: “And the worst thing about you is that you have no sense or conscience and never will have any. You aren’t bad; you’re just childish and selfish. But you have apparently set your heart on getting expelled, and your best friend can’t stop you. It’s really foolish in me to stand here talking to you at two o’clock in the morning. You can’t reform, or if you can, you won’t.”

With disgust stamped on every feature, Melvin turned to look at his watch. When he raised his eyes again, Tompkins was on his feet.

“Yes, I’m a fool, Dick Melvin, I don’t deny it; but I’m not a hopeless case. I can’t become a school balance wheel like you, but you won’t catch me in another scrape this year.”

“Do you mean it?” demanded the senior, with a sharp glance at the speaker’s face.

“I do. I’ll make it right with Littlefield,—and you see if I get into trouble again.”

Dick held out his hand, and gave the other a cordial clasp, but all he said was: “Clear out, then, and let me go to sleep. I’ll believe in the reform when I see it.”

Next morning Melvin waked to find Littlefield standing at his bedside.

“Come, get up,” said the boy, with a grin, “it’s only ten minutes to breakfast. What did you do with the water pitchers?”

On his way to chapel half an hour later Melvin suddenly felt Varrell’s grip on his arm.

“Well, Dick, it has happened!”

“What?”

“The thing that I said would happen. The stealing has begun again. Some one has taken ten dollars from Durand’s bureau drawer.”

“But Durand’s room is in the other entry.”

“That makes no difference. You can reach all the entries through the basement.”