inst what?" asked Sube languidly.

"We dassent ring that bell!" Gizzard exclaimed in a tone of subdued
alarm.

"Why not! I'd like to know!" demanded Sube, rising quickly to a sitting
posture.

"With ol' Hank Morley waitin' right at the bottom of the ladder when we
come down!"

Sube collapsed. "Gosh! I didn't think about that."

"The minute we begun to ring that bell," Gizzard enlarged, "he'd duck
right to the bottom of the ladder, and he'd wait there for us if we
stayed up here a week!" After a moment he added hoarsely, "Prob'ly
they'd starve us out!--Or else send Dan Lannon up after us!"

"Well," Sube responded weakly, "we can't get out _now_! We got to wait
till ol' Hank goes home--"

"Yes, and we'll miss the bonfire!" whined Gizzard. "You got me into a
_nice_ pickle this time!"

"Well, why didn't you think of it before?" was Sube's feeble defense.

"Why didn't _you_ think of it when you was thinkin' of the rest?"
returned Gizzard. Then contriving a particularly cruel thrust he added
maliciously: "This'll be a _nice_ way to celebrate the ever-glorious
Fourth!"

If Gizzard could have seen Sube's face he would have felt repaid for his
efforts; but darkness prevented, and the depths of Sube's chagrin were
never known.

"I'm layin' down now," was all he said.

Then Gizzard stabbed again. "This'll be a ever-glorious place to see
that ever-glorious bonfire," he taunted.

"I wonder if those bats'll be comin' back pretty quick," Sube ventured
by way of a chastened response.

"Well, if one of the ever-glorious little cusses ever comes flappin'
round _me_, I'll knock his ever-glorious brains out!" threatened Gizzard
as he settled back on his comfortless pillow.

Sube made no reply. But as long as Gizzard was able to keep his eyes
open he babbled of things ever-glorious. It was not long, however,
before they both slept. And below them, stretched at full length on a
pew in the church, Hank Morley also slept.

Midnight approached. A mammoth bonfire was laid in the street at the
bank corner. Butch Bosworth and Dick Bissell took a turn past the
Baptist Church and, observing the sexton on guard before the door,
passed on. At the Presbyterian Church they found the coast apparently
clear. The porch was vacant, and there was no light to be seen inside.
They were not long in locating the open cellar-window, through which
they crawled and stealthily made their way to the gallery. And as the
town clock began the strok