"It occurs to me, comrade, that we could make a bit of capital out of the adventure of yesterday—what? Written up in terse, vivid style by our friend Billy, it should form a regular scoop for the Busy Bee."
"Of course—write it up as much as you like, but don't get too personal. I refer to our youthful pranks in the boat. Won't do to have Lower School getting a false notion of their seniors!"
And Jack, who cared nothing at all for his dignity as a member of the Fifth, grinned widely.
Nothing of particular importance happened during the day. Perhaps that was because all minds, Cripples and Crees alike, were looking forward to the night. The Cripples were looking forward to the downfall and abasement of the Crees. But the Crees, curiously enough, were expecting the same thing about the Cripples. And with more reason.
Cummles and his gang concealed themselves in the shadow of an ivy-clad wall in close proximity to the old Science classroom, which, for some reason or other, was at the present time quite unused.
They had not long to wait. In twos and threes the Crees came slinking through the darkness, to avoid possible detection at the hand of any master who might happen to be passing. The little parties vanished into the old Science room, whence arose, in the course of a few minutes, the murmur of talk.
"Got them beautifully," whispered Cummles, overjoyed at the success of his plan. "They're waiting for Symonds and the other heads, but they'll wait a long time."
Jack, who with Billy Faraday and Patch, was hidden on the other side of the wall, could not help smiling at the misplaced confidence of the fellow. But the three of them remained quiet, and awaited further developments.
These came, but only after an uneasy quarter of an hour. One of the Cripples had locked the door, and the sulphuretted hydrogen had been duly released, but no wails or lamentations issued from the old Science room.
On the contrary, the place was as still as the grave.