“Oh, say, just for one look at Prin.’s face, if we can spring that job on him!” chuckled Harry Hazelton.

“We can,” announced Dick, gravely.  “So go home and enjoy your dinners, fellows.  If you want to meet on the same old corner on Main Street, at half-past two to-day, we’ll go in a body to ‘The Blade’ office and learn what Mr. Pollock has to say about our credit.”

“Your credit, you mean,” corrected Dave.

After dinner Dick & Co. met as agreed.  Arrived at “The Blade” office it was decided that Dick Prescott should go in alone to carry on the negotiation.  He soon came out again, wearing a satisfied smile and carrying a package under one arm.

“If I’m any good at guessing,” suggested Dave, “you put the deal over.”

“Mr. Pollock agreed, all right,” nodded Dick.  “I have fourteen dollars here.  He’ll let us have the rest to-morrow.”

They hurried back to Dick’s room, over the bookstore that was run by Mr. and Mrs. Prescott.

“Whew, but this stuff is heavy,” muttered Dick, dumping the package on the table.  “Mr. Pollock sent out to the pressroom and had some paper cut of just the size that we shall need for wrappers.”

“Did you tell Pollock what we are going to do?” asked Greg Holmes.

“Not exactly, but he guessed that some mischief was on.  He wanted to know if it was anything that would make good local reading in ‘The Blade,’ so I told him I thought it would be worth a paragraph or two, and that I’d drop around Monday afternoon and give him the particulars.  That was all I said.”

Inside the package were three “sticks” of the kind that are used for laying the little coins in a row before wrapping.

“Now, one thing we must be dead careful about, fellows,” urged Dick, as he undid the package, “is to be sure that we get an exact fifteen coins in each wrapper.  If we got in more, we’d be the losers.  If we put less than fifteen cents in any wrapper, then we’re likely to be accused of running a swindling game.”

So every one of the plotters was most careful to count the coins.  It was not rapid work, and only half the partners could work at any one time.  They soon caught the trick of wrapping, however, and then the little rolls began to pile up.

Saturday afternoon Dick & Co. were similarly engaged.  Nor did they find the work too hard.  Americans will endure a good deal for the sake of a joke.

Monday morning, shortly after half-past seven, Dick and his chums had stationed themselves along six different approaches to the High School.  Each young pranker had his pockets weighted down with small packages, each containing fifteen pennies.

Purcell, of the junior class, was the first to pass Dick Prescott.

“Hullo, Purcell,” Dick greeted the other, with a grin.  “Want to see some fun?”

“Of course,” nodded the junior.  “What’s going?”