“It’s soot! Plain chimney soot!” answered Jack, who by this time had partly cleared his eyes. “Some fellow was mean enough just now to open our door and throw that bag in on the table where we were all writing and studying.”
“You don’t say so!”
“Some mean trick, I’ll say!” declared Phil Franklin, his eyes flashing. He stepped into the room. “An awful mess, eh? Your books and papers will be about ruined,” he added. “Ink with it, too!”
“The bag struck my inkwell and knocked it over,” answered Fred. “It certainly is a mess. I wish I knew who did it.”
“Didn’t you see the fellow at all?” questioned Fatty.
“I just caught a glimpse of him,” answered Randy. “He was in uniform and had a pillowcase or something of the sort pulled over his head and neck so that I couldn’t recognize him.”
“Must have been one of your old enemies,” commented Phil.
“I thought all of our enemies were gone,” answered Jack, who was still dabbing away at his eyes with tears running down his cheeks. “Slugger Brown, Nappy Martell, Gabe Werner and Bill Glutts all got out some time ago; and now Brassy Bangs, Paul Halliday, and Billy Sands are gone too. I’m sure I don’t know who can be left.”
“You don’t suppose it could be any of the fellows who wanted to be major of the battalion, do you?” asked Fatty.