"Give it up, give it up," ground out Jack, apparently endeavouring to fracture the tiles with Daw's head. "Come on—you're caught this time!"
"Gr-rr-r!" gurgled Daw. "Clug—gump!"
"All right," panted Billy in Jack's ear. "I've got it!"
Slowly the two boys allowed the infuriated master to regain his feet. He did so, and stood there, panting and scowling at them.
"You brats—you brats!" he gritted, between his teeth. "You infernal brats!"
"I fancy," said Jack quietly, "that we've put a finger in your pie—what?"
Mr. Daw took a step forward, and his eyes blazed with intense anger. It looked very much as if he would strike the cool youngster before him, but his hand fell to his side again.
"Yes," went on Jack, "we've just about spoked your wheel!"
Daw seemed to make an immense effort for self-control. He swallowed several times. Then, "I don't know what you mean, you insolent puppy!" he burst out. "And I'd like to know just what you mean by attacking your master in this disgraceful manner—and also what you are doing out of your dormitory at this time of night!"
"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Jack. "After you jumped on poor Billy here, and—"