"Why, Mr. Haskers, where have you been?" asked the doctor in astonishment. "I heard a noise, but I did not know you were stirring."
"I—er—I imagined some of the students were skylarking," faltered the assistant.
"Did you catch anybody?"
"No, sir,—they were too slick for me."
"This skylarking after hours must cease. Have you any idea who they were?"
"Not—er—exactly. I had some trouble early in the evening with Porter, Lawrence, and Morr, and they may be the ones. If you please, I'll take a look in their room."
"Do so, and if anything is wrong, have them report to me in the morning," said Doctor Clay, and retired once more to his room.
Moving swiftly through the hallway, Job Haskers reached his own room and threw open the door. He made a light, and gazed around in great perplexity. Everything was in perfect order excepting the bedclothes, which were just as he had left them. He walked slowly to the window and drew in the rope that was used for a fire escape.
"Strange! Strange!" he murmured to himself, as he scratched his head. "I was sure the bed moved. Can I have been dreaming after all? I ate a rather heavy supper, and my digestion is not as good as it used to be."
He put on his slippers and donned a dressing gown, and thus arrayed sallied forth once more, this time in the direction of the dormitory occupied by Dave and his chums. He approached on tip-toe and opened the door quickly and noiselessly.