"You are mistaken, young man," he interrupted. "I know no more about it than do—"
"Than do I," finished Ned.
"That was what I was about to say, but I hardly think that would be correct. Now if you gentlemen will be good enough to see what has happened to those tents, and put them back, we may be able to get a wink or so of sleep before morning."
"Surely, you don't think I would do a trick like that, Professor?" demanded Ned indignantly.
"I am not saying. I am making no accusations, neither am I declaring any particular individual's innocence," was the stiff retort.
"Why don't you blame me, while you are about it?" grumbled Stacy. "I can stand most anything now. I've been chased out of bed by a ghost, shot at by a spook, hauled out of bed by the ankles by a band of gnomes, and—"
"Well, what else?" urged Tad.
"Thrown down by a bunch of Veal."
"Awful, awful!" groaned Ned. "Positively the most sickening pun I ever heard. Chops, did you see any spooks?"
"Nassir, yassir."