BERRY was a boy of many characteristics. The most notable were an amazing love of sleep and a desperate activity when awake. He seemed to lay in a fresh stock of energy every time he had a nap, and although the most difficult boy in the world to waken, when he was awake he was irrepressible.

It was winter. Berry found that season of the year did not agree with his constitution.

“This getting up in the middle of the night is killing me,” he remarked one day to a group of sympathizers. He had the whole school on his side in this particular matter, for work before breakfast in winter was decidedly unpopular. At half-past seven every boy had to be at his desk “putting in” an hour at mathematics before prayers and breakfast.

It was pitch dark at seven, when the big bell rang as a signal to rise. It is curious how difficult it was to hear that bell in winter. Berry never heard it, or rather never heeded it. He scorned to rise till twenty minutes270 past seven. He could “do it,” as he termed dressing, in ten minutes, and had been known to do it in five. On such occasions his personal ablutions were apt to be rather neglected.

“That old bell is at the bottom of it,” remarked Culverwell, another boy, who found that the heavy clang disturbed his slumbers.

“It’s John who’s at the bottom of the bell,” put in Millward.

“I wish he’d resign,” said Berry. “It’s time they pensioned him off and sent him to a hospital for incurables.”

“He’s a hopeless job,” said Millward. “I spent half an hour one day trying to make him understand that I was willing to stand him a shilling if he’d give us a few minutes’ grace in the morning. But he’s as deaf as a post and though he took my shilling he rang us up more punctually than ever next morning.”

“I wish he’d hang himself with his bell-rope,” said Culverwell.

They eyed the offending bell, which hung idly in its turret, built over what was once a stable, but was now part of the school building.

“I wish we could muffle the old thing,” said Millward, looking wistfully up. “It’s freezing hard, and ’twill be deadly work getting up to-morrow.”

“I believe I could shy a stone up and crack it,” suggested another.

Berry had been silently inspecting the building.

“Tell you what, you fellows,” he said at last, “I271 believe I could get up there if I had a ladder. Out of the small class-room window, jump on the ledge, then creep up the roof by the chimney, then a ladder over the space to the turret. If you fellows will hand me up the ladder I’ll go!”

They were all dumb for a moment at his audacity. Then Millward said:

“How are you going to get into the small class-room? It’s always locked in play-time.”

“So ’tis,” assented Culverwell.

“Then I must get up to the ledge with a ladder, and then pull it up after me.”

“You’re a plucky beggar!” exclaimed Millward, in admiration. “Shouldn’t we have a jolly snooze in the morning if you could stop that old bell’s jaw!”

“I will, too,” said Berry. “There must be a ladder somewhere about.”

“There’s the one John uses to clean the outside of the windows,” suggested Millward, “but it isn’t long enough.”

“It may do,” said Berry. “Come along, let’s get hold of it. This is just the time; it’s dark, and ’tisn’t tea-time for half an hour.”

It was just five o’clock and nearly every boy was indoors; few cared for sliding on a worn slide in the dark, and a game was out of the question. So the three boys had small fear of being discovered as they prowled about in search of John’s ladder.

That worthy was having his tea, and was not likely to be disturbed by any noise, for he was stone deaf. The272 boys hauled out his ladder almost from under his nose without his hearing a sound. Culverwell kept “cave” while Millward held the ladder for Berry to ascend.

It was a plucky if not perilous feat to attempt in the dark. But Berry was abounding in pluck, and the spirit of the adventure made him keep his nerve. He soon found himself on the ledge, and managed to haul up the ladder after him. It was an assistance instead of an incumbrance in crossing the roof, and he soon was within a dozen feet of the turret.

The boys below anxiously waited for his reappearance. But he had a job before him. His idea was to unship the tongue of the bell. He had a glorious reward if he could succeed, for John would never know if the bell rang or not!

It would be superb to have the old factotum pulling away at his rope and fancying he was fulfilling his duty when the tongueless bell was swinging silently on its pivot.

Berry worked the tongue this way and that, but it was a difficult job. The inside of the bell was as dark as the inside of a wolf, to use a hunter’s simile; he had to feel everything, and the metal was terribly cold.

However, at last he managed to unhitch it. He deliberated what to do with it, now he had it. He put it in his pocket, and descended as quickly as was consistent with security.

“Off with the ladder,” was his first order.

They soon had that in its place again. Then they felt safe from detection.

273

“What are you going to do with it?” asked Millward, alluding to the rusty tongue which Berry exhibited.

“I think I shall leave it at the bottom of the turret. If I take it away they’ll know some one’s been up, but if we leave it here they’ll t............