“Just the same, Andy, you’d better be careful how you handle the salt-shaker after this,” put in Jack.
After the meal the Rovers and their chums mingled with the other cadets and informed two or three of what was in the wind, and as a consequence there was quite some excitement noticeable when a little later the crowd, with the exception of Randy, slipped out of the school building by a side door. Randy ran upstairs, to appear presently on the lower landing of the fire-escape. Here was suspended a heavy iron ladder in such a fashion that it could be easily shoved out so that one end would drop to the ground.
Soon the crowd of cadets appeared in the snow below him, and then, with a warning to them to get out of the way, Randy let down the ladder and then came down himself.
“All clear upstairs,” he announced. “Not a soul in sight.”
“One of us ought to stay on guard up there to give warning in case it’s necessary,” announced Spouter.
“Well, suppose you go up,” returned Jack.
“I’d just as soon help with the snowballs,” returned Spouter. “But if you want me to go I’ll do so.” And a moment later he disappeared up the ladder and into the school building through a window which had been thrown open.
The cadets on the ground found it no easy task to raise the big snowballs up the ladder. They tried it first with nothing but their hands, but soon found they could do much better by dumping a snowball into a big overcoat and then hauling it up by the sleeves and the tail of the garment. They worked as rapidly as possible, and soon had eight of the snowballs raised to the platform of the fire-escape.
“How about it? Everything clear?” questioned Randy, as he came into the corridor where Spouter was on guard.
“All clear so far,” was the reply. “A few of the fellows are in their rooms, but no one that we are going to bother.”