boathouse about nine. There'll be a full moon and we can have a good view of the sophs' pavilion."
"Are they going to be there?"
"I hope so. In fact I'm counting on it. This is the night of their annual moonlight song festival. They gather in and about the pavilion and make the night hideous with snatches of melody. They're rotten singers—the sophs this year—but that is neither here nor there. The point is that they'll be there, and it's up to us freshmen to give 'em a little surprise party."
"I suppose you're going to arrange the wire so they can't get into the pavilion without cutting it," suggested Tom, "or else put it across the path to trip them up."
"Er—yes—something like that," replied Langridge hastily. "Oh, by the way, have you a knife? I lost mine out rowing the other day. I'll give it back to you to-morrow."
Tom passed over his knife, a good-sized one, with his name engraved on the handle. His father had given it to him.
"Don't lose it," he cautioned. "I think a great deal of it."
"I'll not," promised Langridge. "Now don't forget to be on hand."
"I'll be there to see the fun."
"And maybe you'll see more than you bargain
