Keeping well out of sight, the two cronies had watched with curiosity Todd's manoeuvres as he tried to run the cigar-smokers to earth. When Gus entered the punt-house, a bright idea struck Wilson.
"Say, Rogers, remember Toddy locking us in the laboratory last term? Two hundred Virgil."
"Ah!" said Rogers, catching the meaning of Wilson's remark instanter; "if we only could cork him up there for the afternoon! That would pay him out for Merishall's call-over lines."
"We'll chance it," said Wilson. "If we can't do it, well, we didn't know Gussy was in—eh?"
"Rather! That is the exact fable we'll serve out to Todd, if necessary."
Breaking cover, the young Biffenites had secured the door of the punt-house without any difficulty, and then had run for dear life.
"Golly!" said Rogers, pulling up when well out of sight of the boat-house; "we did that rather neat, eh? Hanged if Toddy wasn't smoking like a chimney. Did you twig his weed?"
"Regular stench," said Wilson. "Toddy will have to swim out through the front way, or howl for help. The punt is sure to be locked."
"He'll have to take a header off the punt into the moat, and that isn't crystal, exactly."
"Six yards of mud is about the figure," said Wilson, almost hysterically.