But
the latter demurred. It was Sam's fault -- he started the racket.
"I won't touch it." And Fred proceeded to go to bed.
"I reckon we had best dust," said one of the boys from another
dormitory.
"So you had!" burst out Tom. "I hear somebody coming already,"
and in a twinkle the outsiders ran for their various quarters,
leaving the occupants of Dormitory No. 6 to fix up matters as best
they could.
It was no easy job to straighten out the washstand, clear up the
general muss, and disrobe. But the boys were on their mettle, and
in less than two minutes the light was out and all were under the
covers, although, to be sure, Sam had his shoes still on and Tom
was entirely clothed.
"Boys, what is the row up here?" The call came from Captain
Putnam himself. He was ascending the front stairs, lamp in hand,
and attired in a long dressing gown.
As no one answered, he paused in the upper hallway and asked the
question again. Then he looked into one dormitory after another.
"All asleep, eh? Well, see that you don't wake up again as soon
as my back is turned," he went on, and soon after walked below
again, a faint smile on his features. He knew that boys were
bound to be more or less mischievous, no matter how strict his
regulations.
"I'll tell you what, the captain's a brick!" whispered Tom, as he
began to disrobe noiselessly.
"So he is," answered Frank. "You wouldn't catch old Crabtree
acting that way.
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