The next morning was clear and bright and Bob was awakened by the sunlight streaming into the room. He looked about and saw that his companions were still sound asleep.
"Here, get up, you sleepy heads," he cried, giving each a vigorous shake.
But as this brought nothing from them but muffled grunts, he took harsher measures. He pulled off all the bedclothes.
This might have worked in Winter, but on this warm Summer morning it was no hardship and the drowsy boys refused to budge.
"No help for it," muttered Bob to himself, and filling a glass with water, he divided it impartially, throwing half on the face and neck of each sleeper.
There was a howl and a jump as Frank and Sammy started from their beds in chase of their tormentor, but Bob had his clothes ready at hand and darted off into the adjoining room, where he turned the key in the lock just as Frank and Sammy, hot in pursuit, banged up against the door.
"What's the matter, fellows?" called Bob from the other side. "You seem to be excited about something."
"It'll be a pitcher full for you instead of a glassful, the next time we wake up first," threatened Sammy.
"It certainly will," confirmed Frank, rattling vainly at the door knob.
"Then I'm safe enough," mocked Bob, "for you lazybones will never wake up first in a thousand years."