“If bread is the staff of life, butter is the gold head to the cane,” remarked Max profoundly, as he waved the butter-knife.
“I say, Max,” inquired Stanley; “how long did it take you to study that up?”
“I knew he had something on his mind,” added Alex; “he has been unusually quiet all the morning.”
“None of your impertinence, Alex,” Max was beginning, with mock dignity, when Louis said, from his seat farther down the table,—
“He made it up last night, before he went to sleep. I was just dropping off when I heard him mumbling, ‘Bread—staff of life—butter—hm—butter?—um—yellow—no, gold.’ I fell asleep just then, and left him still studying on it.”
“You don’t appreciate really good jokes,” said Max loftily; “and if you tell any more such stories about me, I’ll leave you out of the next lark I have on foot.”
“You don’t dare,” said Louis, laughing.
“What’s going on?” inquired Stanley curiously, for he had caught a knowing glance which passed between the room-mates, and felt sure, from Max’s suppressed excitement, that there was some frolic on hand.
“Nothing more exciting than the game to-morrow,” answered Max evasively, as he moved away from the table. “I only wish that Leon had been ordered for extra duty in the afternoon, instead of Frank Osborn. I’m afraid our side hasn’t much chance, unless two days of arrest have undermined Leon’s constitution. He’ll make trouble for us, if it hasn’t.”
The boys separated for evening study-hour, and soon afterwards quiet reigned over Flemming, for the members of the eleven went early to bed, to be ready for the event of the morrow, while the other boys soon followed the example of their mates. Long before “lights out” had sounded and Lieutenant Wilde had made his round, Old Flemming was as dark and silent as a deserted house, left tenantless even by ghosts. However, if any ghostly wanderer had been walking the halls of Old Flemming, that night at midnight, he would have been surprised to see a door swing slowly open and two boys step stealthily out into the hall, their shoes in their hands and a great, dark bundle under the arm of one of them. With long, noiseless steps they moved towards the head of the stairs, pausing often to listen and peer into the velvety darkness around them; then they stole down the stairs to the outer door which they opened as cautiously as they had done the other, closed it behind them, and passed out into the night. At the foot of the steps leading from the drive up to the level of the armory door, they dropped down on the ground and began to put on their shoes.