e mark, sure enough. However did you come
to put it there inside of Ward's hat?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh!" answered Jud, with a broad grin, "that was my idea of a little
joke, fellows. I happened to find his hat one fine day at school, and
having a pen in my hand, thought I'd give him something to puzzle his
head about. So I made that high sign there. Guess he wondered what it
all meant, and if he was marked for a Black Hand victim. But you can
roll your hoop, fellows, that this is Ward's lid."

"If we had only caught him, Peter, you would know it was so," observed
Jack; who had led the crowd that rushed outdoors, and felt rather cheap
because their intended game had succeeded in escaping.

"Look here, what's to hinder us going and collarin' him on his way
home?" broke in Bobolink, always conjuring up bright ideas.

"That's so, Paul. What d'ye think?" asked Jack, eagerly.

"A good idea," declared the one addressed, without stopping an instant;
"and Peter shall go along to be a witness, if we find that Ward is minus
his hat. Perhaps we might be lucky enough to find that black mask in his
pocket, too. And somehow, I've got a notion he had his hands rubbed
with charcoal, to match his face. If we found that to be the case I
guess the trustees would be ready to admit _we_ didn't have anything to
do with this affair."

"Give the order then, Paul. Every one will want to go along; but that
would be sure to queer the job. Pick out several likely chaps, won't
you?" asked Jack.

"Sure I will. To begin with, Jack, you stay to see about closing up
shop. Bobolink, you and Bluff come with us; yes, and Nuthin can trot
along, too. That ought to be enough, with Peter here to help."

The German sexton was not so very dull of comprehension after all. And
besides, he believed in Paul Morrison. He agreed to accompany the group
of scouts on their strange errand, since Jack promised to close all the
windows, and remain in the basement until his return.

Accordingly the five walked away, vanishing in the darkness. Paul
suspected that one or more of the enemy might be concealed close by,
hoping to learn what they meant to do; and so he had lowered his voice
when speaking.

He led the way, passing through several side streets until finally they
found themselves close to the fine residence of Mr. Kenwood, the banker.

"Say, I happen to know that Ward always uses the back gate when he goes
out nights," ventured Nuthin, in a whisper, clo