Since the Topovers and the other hard boys had behaved themselves so well, all precautions were relaxed; for the principal knew that barred windows were a standing temptation for them to escape. The students were allowed all the liberty it was practicable to give them. The bars had been removed from the windows of the restless spirits, as soon as they showed a spirit of subordination.

All the students retired at whatever time they pleased, provided that it was before ten o'clock. All lights were to be put out at that hour, and one of the instructors always passed through the halls of the dormitory at this time. The boys were required to lock their doors; and, when it was found that the door was locked and the light put out, that was sufficient evidence that the occupant of the room had gone to bed.

Tom Topover had instructed his gang to lock their doors, and put the keys in their pockets. If they succeeded in reaching the old wharf, which was the place appointed, without being seen, they would be safe. They passed out of the dormitory one at a time, and crept very cautiously to the meeting-place.

It was evident that Tom had opened the subject to Bent Fillwing and Jack Dumper before he said any thing to his former comrades. But he was careful not to say a word of the details of his plan to any one. He had caught this idea from the principal, and the officers of the steamer. They never said what they were going to do, and always insisted on blind obedience. He had followed their example, as well for the sake of prudence as in order to preserve his power over his companions. He believed in "sealed orders," and he kept his own counsel.

Nim Splugger had entered readily into the spirit of the enterprise, whatever it might prove to be; but Kidd and Pell were sorry a dozen times before they reached the old wharf. They would have turned back, if they had learned to bear the ridicule of Tom and Nim.

"Now what is all this about, Tom?" asked Bent Fillwing, who had been the terror of the town in which he lived before he came to Beech Hill.

"You will find out all about it in due time," replied Tom.

"But I want to find out now," Bent insisted.

"I can't tell you a thing now. All you have to do is to obey orders," replied Tom serenely, as though he believed it was all right.

"Obey orders? Whose orders?" asked Bent, with an obvious sneer.

"Mine, of course. I got this thing up; and I am going to see it through, whatever it costs."

"Oh, you are!" snuffed Bent. "But I prefer to know something more about it before I go any farther."

"Not a thing!" exclaimed Tom. "If you don't want to join, you can go back to your room and study your lessons. I have had lessons enough for a while, and I don't believe old Gildrock will see me again very soon. I am a free man!" blustered Tom.

"Do you expect us to follow your lead without knowing where we are going, or what we are to do?" demanded Bent, rather sharply.

"I have said enough to let you know that we are to take a sail, that we are going to a hotel, and that we shall go to the theatre or the circus, if we can find one. I saw some big bills, with colored pictures, on the fences near the wharf in Burlington; and I guess there is a circus somewhere in these parts."

"That's all very well, but we don't know that you can do all you say you can," replied Bent, moved by the bill of fare which their leader held out to them.

"I can do all that, and a great deal more," answered Tom, chuckling, and with an air of confidence which seemed to have its influence upon his companions.

"It takes money to go to a hotel, or to get into a theatre or a circus," continued Bent; and not one of the party had ever been any nearer to an equestrian performance than the outside of the canvas.

"I know that as well as you do," replied Tom, as he put one of his hands into his trousers-pocket, as if to emphasize his remark.

"If you have got any money, say so, and tell us how much you have," said Jack Dumper. "What's the use of being so secret? It don't do any good."

"Do you suppose I am going to have any one of you fellows that gets mad, running back to old Gildrock, and telling him what I have got in my trousers-pocket, where we are going, and what we are going to do? Not if I know myself. And Tom Topover thinks he knows himself better than any other fellow knows him. That's the whole of it. I won't trust you any farther than I have said; and you can all go back if you like, and I will carry out the plan myself, without any help from any of you. I can get along well enough alone, and I know where to go and what to do."

This independence was too much for the rest of them; and, though Bent growled, he submitted. They were all sure by this time that the chief had plenty of money, and they wondered with all their might where he had obtained it. There was no report of any theft about Beech Hill, and most of the boys never left the grounds except in the boats.

"I don't like this way of doing it, but I hate to back out," said Bent, when Tom had delivered himself, in full, of his opinions and intentions. "The fairest thing would be to tell what you are going to do, Tom; and then the fellows can't find any fault if things go wrong."

"The fellows may find fault if they like: what do I care for that? If I find the money and the brains for the scrape, I ought to have the management of the thing."

"Nobody objects to your managing it," said Jack Dumper. "But we should like to know what you are going to do."

"You won't know from me," replied Tom doggedly. "If any fellow wants to back out, now is the time for him to make tracks."

Kidd and Pell were tempted to accept the invitation.

"I don't want any little lambs with me," added Tom; and this remark upset the two penitents, and they had not the pluck to retire from the enterprise.

Tom Topover continued to talk for some time longer in a low tone, so that no one who happened to be out could hear him. He was waiting for the timid ones to withdraw, but no one did so. The good time promised influenced Bent and Jack, while the fear of ridicule upset the good intentions of Kidd and Pell. It was evident enough that Tom intended to take one of the boats; and it must be one of the sailboats, for all the barges and rowboats were locked up in the boat-house.

But at the old wharf there was a skiff, which was used when the Goldwing was to be brought in for a party. It was not large enough to accommodate more than three with safety, and Tom divided his forces for the trip. It was not till after ten that he did this, and the lights were all put out in the dormitory. Even the mansion was shrouded in darkness; for all the people in it were early risers, and had retired before this time. It was clear that the absent ones had not been missed at the dormitory.

Tom sent Nim back for the three who had been left on shore; for he would not trust either Kidd or Pell, lest they should back out and give the alarm. He could control them while they were in his presence, but he was afraid of them if they were out of sight. The messenger could bring only two of them, and he went a second time for the last one, who happened to be Bent Fillwing. To the surprise of this worthy, he found that the leader had taken possession of the Lily, instead of the Goldwing, which he supposed would be the one selected. He objected with all his might to the selection.

"This is the stupidest thing you ever did in your life, Tom Topover!" he exclaimed, when he met the commander of the expedition on the forward deck of the schooner.

"What is?" asked Tom coolly.

"To take the Lily when there are only six of us," repeated Bent, rounding up fully the expression of his wonder at the folly of the leader. "What are you going to do in this big boat?"

"The fun of sailing her is half what the trip is for," added Tom. "If you don't want to go in the Lily, there is the skiff, and you know the way to the shore. I don't want you, if you won't take things as they come and quit grumbling. I am going to do all the grumbling myself."

"You always do it all, and it is not fair to give the other fellows no chance at all," replied Bent, struggling to be as facetious as the chief. "It took thirty-two of us to handle her last Saturday; and six of us have no show, and in the night too. How are you going to get through the outlet with her? You are no pilot, and Dory Dornwood is fast asleep by this time."

"I can take her through as well as Dory. I don't want any more growling. If you are not satisfied, Bent, go ashore, wrap yourselves up in your wool and go to sleep. I am the captain of this ship."

"Perhaps you are!"

"I know I am. Did you hear any fellow growling to Matt Randolph last Saturday?"

"He had the principal behind him. Besides, some of the fellows will get seasick, and then who will handle this big schooner. I move you put it to vote, whether we go in the Goldwing or the Lily," continued Bent, suddenly assuming a pleasant tone.

"I don't care how you vote, or what you want to do. I am going in the Lily, and any fellow who don't want to go with me can go on shore, and go to bed," said Tom decisively.

That settled the question. Tom did not hear the remarks the principal made to the captain of the schooner, in regard to taking risks; but he determined to run no needless risk on the present occasion. Though everybody appeared to be asleep at Beech Hill, Captain Gildrock might be wandering about the estate; for he was a man who was very likely to turn up unexpectedly when any mischief was in progress. Tom waited till he heard the town-clocks strike eleven. It was safe then, in his opinion, to proceed.

The leader of the Topovers had certainly learned a great deal since he had been a pupil at Beech Hill. The principal, to encourage him when he appeared to be doing well, had humored him a good deal. He had steered the steamer and the Goldwing, and could handle a sailboat about as well as the average boy who did not pretend to be a boatman.

The moorings of the Lily were so near the dormitory and the stables, that Tom was afraid to hoist the fore and main sail of the schooner, lest any noise should be heard on shore. The old quartermaster had a room over the carriage-house, and he slept with one eye open. The moorings were cast off into the skiff, and the Lily was allowed to float on the current. It took her a long time to get to the outlet. With all his boasted skill, Tom was afraid to sail the schooner through the outlet in the darkness.

He rigged a pair of large oars in the fore-rigging, and put his crew on the handles. They obtained headway enough to give her steerage-way, and the pilot had no trouble in keeping the Lily in the middle of the stream. With no little difficulty, and a great deal of jaw, the sails were set, and the schooner stood down the river.

The wind was light; but in half an hour she passed into the lake, and Tom headed her to the north.