"Why," pursued Dan, "we can summon seven of the undertakers for
our job, and still leave two available for the public service."
Dick sprang up from the stone wall, tightly gripping Dan Dalzell
by the coat collar.
"Help me watch this lunatic, fellows," urged Dick, quietly.
"He's dangerous. You've heard him! He's plotting assassination!"
"Undertakers don't assassinate anyone, do they?" queried Dan,
with an air of mock innocence.
"What _are_ you plotting, then?" insisted Dick.
Dan's face broadened into a very pronounced grin.
"Why, see here, fellows, there seems to be some fire behind Dr.
Thornton's smoke that the Board of Education may get excited over
low recitation marks, and actually---_stop football_!" finished
Dalzell, in a gasp.
The other five chums snorted. Dan Dalzell was presently able
to control his feelings sufficiently to proceed:
"No one but actually dead ones would expect an American institution
of the higher learning to exist in these days without football.
Hence, if the Grannies' Club---I mean the School Board---are
planning to stop football, or even believe that it is possible,
then they're sure enough dead ones. Am I right?"
"Right and sane, after all," nodded Dick.
"Therefore," pursued Dan, "if the board members are dead ones,
why not go ahead and bury them? Or, at the least, show our kindly
interest in that direction. See here, fellows"---here Dan lowered
his voice to the faintest sort of whisper, while the other partners
gathered close about him---"tonight we fellows can scatter over
the town, and drop into different telephone booths where we're
not known.
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