big enough yet!_"

There was a moment's hush. Then the class caught the spirit of the
answer. A few titters sounded, cautiously--to be followed instantly by
an explosion of laughter. Even Old Dut had to join in the laugh.

"That young man will bear watching," thought the principal grimly. "He's
my best pupil, and one of the most mischievous. I'd rather have any
youngster mischievous than stupid."

Glancing at the clock, Principal Jones swung around, running a finger
down a line of push buttons in the wall back of his seat. In this
fashion did he announce to the schoolrooms of the seven lower grades
that morning recess time had come. Then he swung back.

"Attention, class!" he called. Tap! sounded a bell. The eighth-grade
boys and girls rose, standing by their seats.

Tap! At the second bell the lines filed out in orderly fashion to the
coatrooms, at the sides of the schoolroom.

But many of the young people soon came back. It was raining heavily
outdoors on this September morning. True, the boys' and girls' basements
served as playrooms in bad weather, but the basements were always
crowded at such times, and many of the young people preferred to pass
the recess time in the schoolroom.

"Old Dut's getting rather too fresh these days," growled Greg Holmes to
his chum. Then whispered in Dick's ear:

"We'll get hunk with him to-night. Some of us will go around and play
the wreck scene in his flower gardens."

"Nothing doing," retorted Dick briefly.

"I know a good one," whispered Dave Darrin, his dark eyes flashing with
anticipated mischief. "We'll switch Old Dut's new gate off and play
Moses in the bulrushes at the river bank."

"Say," demanded Dick, gazing curiously at his tempters, "since when have
you thought I don't know enough to pay back my own grudges!"

"Have you got a scheme?" demanded Tom Reade eagerly, while Harry
Hazelton and Dan Dalzell, sure that Dick had a "corker" of a scheme,
grinned as happily as though they had already seen it put through with a
rush.

"Have you got a scheme?" insisted Dave.

"Maybe," replied Dick evasively.

"Any of you fellows going down to the basement?" asked Hazelton after a
moment.

"What's the use?" questioned Dick. "Tramp down three flights of stairs,
and then climb the flights again in ten minutes."

With that Dick sauntered into the schoolroom. Old Dut was seated at his
desk, a half dozen of the girls standing about, eating apples or candy,
and talking wit