"I don't know what to do," he said. "I certainly don't feel like going to bed."
One of the proctors had heard that Tom was missing and came to the room to see about it. Sam told him all he knew and the proctor said he would immediately report the case to Doctor Wallington.
"You know he can't stay out as late as this without permission," observed the proctor.
"Permission or no permission I wish he was here," answered Sam. "He is sick and I am very much worried about him." And then the proctor left.
An hour dragged by and the other students went to bed. Sam sat up in an easy chair, trying to doze, but starting up at every sound. He tried to figure out what would be best for him to do, but could reach no satisfactory conclusion. He looked out of the window. The moon was setting and soon all became dark. A wagon rattled by on the roadway beyond the campus, and the clock in the college tower tolled out the hour of midnight.
"This is simply awful!" murmured Sam, as he walked back to the easy chair and dropped down. "I wonder if I hadn't better send a message to Dick? But I can't do it until seven o'clock—the telegraph office is closed."
At last Sam became so worn out that he could keep his eyes open no longer. He flung himself on his bed, dressed as he was, and fell into a fitful doze. And thus the hours went by until the sun shone over the hills in the East.
"Did he come in?" It was a question put by Songbird, as he came to the door.
"No."
"Say, Sam, this is strange. What are you going to do?"