ok. "What's
cleaning-up bell?"

"Why, to clean up the college," said Petey. "We clean it up once a week.
With the fellows riding their horses into class and tracking mud and
clay in, and eating lunches and stuff around, it gets pretty messy
before the end of the week. We make the Freshmen clean it out. There
they go now."

A dozen "supes" filed slowly into the building with brooms and shovels.
Pubby couldn't have looked more interested if they had been crowned
heads of Europe.

Just then a fine assortment of sounds broke out in the old building. The
doors burst open and a young red-headed Mick from the seventh ward near
by rode a pony down the steps and away for dear life. Behind him came a
double-sized gent with yard-wide mustaches. He was dressed in a red
shirt, overalls and firearms. He was a walking museum of weapons. Petey
told me afterward that he had borrowed him from the roundhouse near by,
and that for a box of cigars he had kindly consented to play the part of
an irritable arsenal for one afternoon only.

"That's the janitor," said Petey in an awestruck whisper. "Get behind a
tree, quick. He's sure some vexed. He hates to have the boys ride their
ponies into classroom."

We got a fine view of the janitor as he swept past. He was a regular
volcano in pants. Never have I heard the English language more richly
embossed with profanity. Firing a fat locomotive up the grades around
Siwash with bad coal gives a man great talent in expression. We listened
to him with awe. Pubby was entranced. He asked me if it would be safe to
take anything down in his notebook, and when I promised to protect him
he wrote three pages.

By this time the campus was filling up. Word had gotten around the real
college that the big show of the season was being pulled off up at
Dillpickle, and the students were arriving by the dozen. We were getting
pretty nervous. The new arrivals weren't coached, and sooner or later
they were bound to give the snap away. We decided to introduce our guest
to the president. If we could keep things quiet another half hour all
would be safe, Petey assured us.

We took the Reverend up to the main entrance, Petey's thinker working
like a well-oiled machine all the way. He pointed out the tree where
they hanged a horse thief, and Pubby made us wait till he had gotten a
leaf from it. The Senior classes at Dillpickle had had the custom of
hauling boulders on to the campus as graduation presents. Petey
ex