“My hands are all blue—and so is my nose!”
“I’m blue too!” ejaculated Billy Sabine. “Oh, what has happened to us?”
“Maybe they had blue paint in those towels,” suggested Coulter. “Gosh, if this ain’t fierce! We look like a lot of painted Indians!”
“So we do!” cried another student. “Wonder if it will wash off?”
Reff Ritter turned up the light and examined a towel closely.
“I see what it is!” he cried. “Somebody has put blueing powder all over the towels. The water has made a regular dye of it!”
“Oh!” came in a groaning chorus.
“Will the—the blueing wash off?” asked Paxton, in a faint voice.
“I don’t think all of it will—it’s too strong,” answered Ritter. “I’ll bet this is some of the Ruddy crowd’s work,” he added bitterly.
Just then a sheet of paper was thrust under the door. Coulter picked it up. A patter of footsteps could be heard in the distance.