while his comrades stood guard against any attack of sophomores.
"Who's going to throw the stone?" asked Ed Kerr, as he walked along beside Langridge.
"I am, of course."
"Oh, of course," repeated Clinton in a low voice. 'You want to run everything."
"Well, Fred Langridge is a good pitcher," spoke Sid Henderson. "He's likely to make the Varsity this year."
"Um!" was all Phil said.
The boys reached the chapel, and, under the direction of Langridge, the cord and rope were made ready.
"Got a good stone?" asked the leader.
"Here's a hunk of lead," replied Ed. "I made it on purpose. It's not* so likely to slip out as a stone."
"That's good. Hand it over."
The lead was soon fastened to the cord.
"Look out, now, here goes!" called Langridge. "I'm going to pitch it over. Be all ready, Snail."
He stepped back, and tossed the lead, intending to make the cord fall across one arm of the cross. But either his aim was poor, or he could not discern well enough in the darkness the outlines of the cross.
"Missed it!" exclaimed Clinton.
