"Great Cæsar, he's stealing Shadow's fireworks!" burst out Phil.
"I apologize to Shadow," answered Dave, with a low bow to the lad mentioned. "This is only an idea. It happened at a college in New Jersey. They tarred and feathered a fellow there, but the tar was—molasses!"
"Eureka!" shouted Roger. "Dave has hit the head on the nail, as the tinker said to the ice-man. Molasses it is, and good and thick."
The matter was discussed for a few minutes, and Sam Day and Shadow volunteered to get the molasses, which was kept in a big jug in the kitchen pantry. They were gone fifteen minutes, and returned with a big tin dipper brimming full of the sticky fluid.
"Here's the tar, boys!" he said, in a loud voice, so that Gus Plum might hear, and he winked. "All we've got to do is to heat it up."
"We can do that over Lazy's pocket stove," answered Roger. "Now, boys, for some feathers."
"Tar and feathers!" murmured Macklin, turning pale. "Don't—don't tar and feather me, please, don't!"
"Then hurry up and finish your job," came from one of the students, and the sneak bent to his task with more of a will than ever.
One of the pillows was opened and a quantity
