The village of Ogleport was satisfactorily quiet, and as dark as the occasion called for, when Bar Vernon and Val Manning, with their shoes fastened to their waistbands, crept noiselessly out on the back roof.

There was not the least difficulty in getting into the branches of the maple, or from them to the ground below.

Then the shoes were hurriedly put on, and the two boys were off through the garden, down to the river bank, and from thence it was easy enough to gain one of the lower crossroads without being seen.

Half a mile of brisk walking in the direction of the lake brought them to the clump of bushes where they had hidden the joint product of their own skill and that of Puff Evans.

A curious thing it was.

A sort of “van” or wing about three feet[Pg 232] square, made of a wooden frame with cotton cloth stretched across it, and one side of the frame swung easily in a pair of “journal holes” bored in another and stronger frame.

Below the wing, at right angles to the outside frame, a sort of arm reached down about two inches.

“I don’t see how you’ll make it work,” said Val, “but I suppose you do.”

“Show you when we get there,” said Bar. “Now we must make for the sheds.”

By the time the two boys reached the rear of the Academy there was not a soul stirring in all Ogleport.

Even Dr. Dryer felt safe about the bell, now that the rope had been removed, and he had looked to the doors and windows for himself, that afternoon.

“Are you a good climber, Val?” asked Bar.

“Not very.”

“Then I’ll let you in through that side-door in the basement,” said Bar. “You keep the machine.”

“But how’ll you get in?”

“Lightning-rod,” replied Bar. “It goes up[Pg 233] close by one of the second story windows, and that has no fastening.”

“Is it strong enough?”

“Plenty. That’s the way the village boys got in. One of ’em left the mark of his heel deep in the grass at the bottom. Must have slipped and come down hard.”

“You’re a detective!” said Val.

It would have done the heart of Zeb Fuller good, if it had not revolutionized his views concerning “those two boarders,” if he had seen the practiced skill and agility with which Bar Vernon went up that lightning-rod.

“It’s equal to his billiards,” thought Val.

Yes, and it had been learned very much in the same way, during some of the queer episodes of his “old time.”

The window was opened and Bar disappeared, shutting it carefully and silently behind him, while Val hurried around to the basement door.

That, too, was speedily unbarred, and Val and his machine admitted.

“What are you barring it behind us for?” asked Val.

“Don’t want any accidents,” Bar began, and[Pg 234] then he added, “Hush, we’re not inside here a minute too soon.”

Indeed they were not, for one of the Academy trustees, unable to be easy in his mind over the events of the previous night, had come out for a scouting expedition of his own.

Slowly, with heavy and circumspect tread, the good citizen was making his rounds of the old edifice, and now he carefully tried the fastenings of that lower door and peered anxiously in through the curtainless windows.

Very still kept the two adventurers, and both felt an unusually active pumping at their hearts, until they were sure that every door and window within his reach had been examined by the careful trustee, and that he had taken his satisfied departure.

“Now, Val,” said Bar, “we’re safe enough. Come on.”

Up they went, first into the main hall, then into the second story, then up the creaking and short-turning flight of steps which led to the lower deck of the steeple bell-tower.

“This west window,” said Bar, “towards the roof, is just the thing for our windmill. The[Pg 235] wind has a clean sweep across the deck, for there isn’t a bit of sash all around.”

“There used to be, in winter,” said Val, “but I s’pose they think this deck is roof enough.”

“So it is,” said Bar, as he worked steadily and rapidly away, “but nobody can see this west window from the ground, unless they get over into the graveyard back of the sheds.”

“I don’t understand it quite yet,” said Val. “Even if the wind works it, how’ll it ring the bell?”

“Why,” replied Bar, “up there, on one side of the bell, is an old pulley-wheel. I’ll have to oil it before it will run well. Now, I’ll hitch the end of this rope to the bell-hammer, and pass it over that wheel. It’ll come down at the east side, close to the timbers, where nobody can see it with a telescope. Then I’ll pass it under this wheel here and hitch it to the lower arm of our van. Then, if there comes a good wind, that bell’s bound to toll every time the van is blown in.”

“It would take a west wind for it,” said Val.

“Perhaps, to work it regularly,” replied Bar,[Pg 236] “but ’most any wind may do some good. Now, I’ve a pokerish job before me.”

It looked like it, indeed!

Val Manning was brave enough, but he would hardly have liked to undertake that climb in the dark. Not every boy would have cared for it in broad daylight.

Up went Bar, however, as surely and as rapidly as if he had served an apprenticeship at sea, and Val waited for him in almost breathless expectation till he saw him once more emerge into the moonlight, which was now beginning to stream through the bell-tower.

“It’ll work,” said Bar, “but I came pretty near losing my hold once. That would have been a bad piece of business.”
<............