“Better hustle into bed before it gets d-d-dark,” says Mark; and up-stairs we scurried.
In about two jerks we were undressed and between the sheets. For a minute everybody was still, and right there I began to feel spooky. I got to thinking of the long halls and empty bedrooms—and the ten miles between us and town. It wasn’t comfortable. It seemed like it got pitch-dark in a minute, and then the wind, which we’d been too busy to notice, started to blow around the hotel and make noises.
I reached over and felt of Plunk to be sure he was there, and I caught him in the act of feeling for me. He felt the same way I did.
“Kinda still, ain’t it?” says I.
“I wouldn’t mind if a brass band was to start up under the window,” says he.
In the other room we heard Mark and Binney begin to talk.
“Git over,” says Binney; “two-thirds of the bed is yours fair and square, but I ain’t goin’ to sleep danglin’ over the edge.”
We heard Mark wallow over.
“Seems to me there’s l-lots of things rattlin’ and b-bangin’ around,” says Mark.
“Is the door locked?” says Binney.