"An' then They've been calling us stinkers, you know. We might shove
somethin' under--sulphur, or something that stunk pretty bad--an'
stink 'em out. I know it can be done somehow." Beetle's eyes turned
to Stalky handling the diagrams.

"Stinks?" said Stalky interrogatively. Then his face grew luminous
with delight. "By gum! I've got it. Horrid stinks! Turkey!" He leaped
at the Irishman. "This afternoon--just after Beetle went away!
_She's_ the very thing!"

"Come to my arms, my beamish boy," caroled McTurk, and they fell into
each other's arms dancing. "Oh, frabjous day! Calloo, callay! She
will! She will!"

"Hold on," said Beetle. "I don't understand."

"Dearr man! It shall, though. Oh, Artie, my pure-souled youth, let us
tell our darling Reggie about Pestiferous Stinkadores."

"Not until after call-over. Come on!"

"I say," said Orrin, stiffly, as they fell into their places along the
walls of the gymnasium. "The house are goin' to hold another
meeting."

"Hold away, then." Stalky's mind was elsewhere.

"It's about you three this time."

"All right, give 'em my love... _Here,_sir_," and he tore down the