“We’re all here, sir,” said Jack. “There were no others.” And he and his cousins gave their chums a warm look to show they appreciated their coming forward to take a share of the blame.
“Seven of you, eh?” was the teacher’s sour comment. “A fine piece of business, truly.” He thought for a moment. “Come with me, all of you, and we’ll see what damage has been done down in the office.”
The assembled cadets made a passageway, and through this filed the Rovers and their chums with Professor Duke following close on their heels. Professor Grawson remained behind to talk to Stowell.
“They’ll kill me for this—I know they will!” whined Codfish. And now he was on the verge of tears.
“I don’t think the Rovers will touch you, Stowell—I don’t think they’re that class of boys,” answered Professor Grawson. “Come. I’ll go to your room with you and help you throw those snowballs out of the window.” He had not forgotten that he had been a schoolboy himself once, and he had small sympathy for such a sneak as Henry Stowell.
Down in Colonel Colby’s private office it was found that the big snowball had done little damage outside of wetting a couple of the rugs. What was left of the snowball had been gathered up by Pud Hicks, the janitor’s assistant, and now he was mopping up the floor.
“I’ll take the rugs and dry ’em in the laundry,” said Hicks. “I think they’ll be all right by morning.”
“You cadets remain here until I return,” said Professor Duke, when Hicks was ready to depart. And then he went outside and in the hallway held a whispered conversation with the janitor’s assistant.
“I guess we’re in for it,” said Jack to his cousins and his chums.