Pretty soon I was sure I heard something soft-footed come sneaking along the hall. I held my breath and listened with all my might. Whatever it was, it came along, breathing so you could hear, and stopped by our door and sniffed. Then it sounded just as if somebody said, “’Shhh!”
“I’m goin’ to see,” says I. “Layin’ here waitin’ to be bit is worse ’n bein’ up and gettin’ bit.”
I jumped out of bed, with Plunk right after me, and rushed across the room. Right in the middle of it I ran into somebody coming from the other way, and down we went in a kicking, punching heap. Scared? Say, I thought I’d just naturally scream. I guess maybe I did let out some kind of a yell. Whatever I’d run into was pretty lively and thrashed around considerable. All of a sudden I realized it was fat—mighty fat.
“Mark Tidd,” says I, “is that you?”
“Wough!” says he. “What you wanderin’ around at night like this for?”
“Same to you. This is our room, ain’t it? Was that you sniffin’ outside our door?”
“No,” says he. “I heard it and g-g-got up to see.”
“Come on, then,” says I.
We untangled and made for the door. I grabbed it open and looked out. The hall was as dark as a pocket. The only light was a window at the far end that seemed about half a mile away. If anything had been between us and that window we could have seen it, but nothing was there. We listened. There wasn’t a sound.
“Huh!” says Mark. “Guess it was imagination.”