Everyone was in bed early that night, for all were tired; but the boys had a whispered colloquy before they went to sleep in their own big room at the top of the house, and Bob tied a cord to his big toe and weighted the other end so that it would drop out of the window and hang just about head-high above the grass.
The first stableman up about the place ran over from the barns and gave Master Bob’s cord a yank, according to instructions, and pretty nearly hauled that ingenious chap out of bed before the eastern sky was even streaked with light.
“Gee! have we got to get up now?” demanded Busy Izzy, aroused, as were the other boys, by Bobbins dancing about the floor and rubbing his toe. “Somebody has been foolin’ you—it’s nowheres near morning.”
“Bet a dog jumped up and bit that string you hung out of the window,” chuckled Tom Cameron.
He looked at his watch and saw that it really was after four o’clock.
“Come on, then!” Tom added, rolling Ralph Tingley out of bed. “We must do as we said, and surprise the girls.”
“Sh!” commanded Bobbins. “No noise. We want to slide out easy.”
With much muffled giggling and wrestling, they dressed and made their way downstairs. The maids were just astir.
The boys had something particular to do, and they went to work at it very promptly, under Tom Cameron’s leadership. Behind one of the farther barns was a sharp, but smooth slope, well sodded, which descended to the line of the farm that adjoined Mr. Caslon’s. There, at the bottom, the land sloped up again to the stone wall that divided the two estates.
It was a fine place for a slide in winter, somebody had said; but Tom’s quick wit suggested that it would be a good place for a slide in summer, too! And the boys had laid their plans for this early morning job accordingly.