Scotty to go out on an
errand, and he let Murray into his scheme. Now, Murray not only had
acquired a strong liking for Ken, but he was exceedingly fond of a joke.

"All I want to know," whispered Ken, "is if I might stew them too
much--really scald them, you know?"

"No danger," whispered Murray. "That'll be the fun of it. You can't
hurt them. But they'll think they're dying."

He hustled Raymond, Weir, and Trace into the tanks and fastened the lids,
and carefully tucked towels round their necks to keep in the steam.

"Lots of stew to-day," he said, turning the handles. "Hello! Where's
Scotty?... Peg, will you watch these boys a minute while I step out?"

"You bet I will," called Ken to the already disappearing Murray.

The three cooped-in boys looked askance at Ken.

"Wull, I'm not much stuck--" Raymond began glibly enough, and then,
becoming conscious that he might betray an opportunity to Ken, he
swallowed his tongue.

"What'd you say?" asked Ken, pretending curiosity. Suddenly he began
to jump up and down. "Oh, my! Hullabelee! Schoodoorady! What a chance!
You gave it away!"

"Look what he's doing!" yelled Trace.

"Hyar!" added Weir.

"Keep away from those pipes!" chimed in Raymond.

"Boys, I've been laying for you, but I never thought I'd get a chance
like this. If Murray only stays out three minutes--just three minutes!"

"Three minutes! You idiot, you won't keep us in here that long?"
asked Weir, in alarm.

"Oh no, not at all.... Puff, I think you can stand a little more steam."

Ken turned the handle on full.

"Kel, a first-rate stewing will be good for your daily grouch."

To the accompaniment of Raymond's threats he turned the second handle.

"Trace, you little poll-parrot, you will throw perfume on me? Now roast!"

The heads of the imprisoned boys began to jerk and bob around, and
their faces to take on a flush. Ken leisurely surveyed them and then
did an Indian war-dance in the middle of the room.

"Here, let me out! Ken, you know how delicate I am," implored Raymond.

"I couldn't entertain the idea for a second," replied Ken.

"I'll lick you!" yelled Raymond.

"My lad, you've got a brain-storm," returned Ken, in grieved tones.
"Not in the wildest flights of your nightmares have you ever said
anything so impossible as that."

"Ken, dear Ken, dear old Peggie," cried Trace, "you know I've got a
skinned place on my hip where I slid yesterday. Steam isn't good for
that, Worry says. H