“Oh, going out will be easy,” declared Bill. “You can let us slip out of your rooms into the corridor. We can go down it a way on our tiptoes and come back flat-footed so Frank will hear us. He’ll think we’re coming back from a trip to town, where we can intimate that we’re going.”
“Any way you like,” said Jerry.
The night of the feast came. It was the night before the second big game with Kenwell.
To the rooms of our friends came those invited to the feast. All but Bart and Bill arrived in the usual way, stepping softly along the corridor. If Frank, in his den across the hall, knew that a feast was going on he gave no sign. Not a light showed over the transom.
“He went out before we did,” said Bart when he and Bill arrived by way of the fire escape. “I guess we’ve got him fooled all right.”
“I hope so,” returned Jerry.
“And now for the chicken pie!” said Bob, when some of the other things had been passed around and the fun was under way.
“‘Hurrah for the fun, is the pudding done? Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!’” quoted Bart.
“Not so loud!” cautioned Bob, turning the electric current on in the chafing dish.