"Better not," advised Paul, "for that would give the whole thing away. The whole stack of things is piled up in the center, so we needn't tumble over it. And William, you know where to put your hand on those clubs, don't you?"
"That's a cinch," chuckled the other, quickly. "You fellows just hang out here, and let me get busy. Oh! what a chance it looks like to try my little game of tag. Talk to me about baseball! Why, it won't be in the same class with what we'll do to the other fellows, if they give us half a chance! Oh! me, oh! my! yum, yum!"
William came back presently, and handed each of his mates one of the padded clubs he had worked on so industriously, in the expectation that some fine day they might come in useful. Perhaps that hour had arrived; at least William had high hopes.
Paul, meanwhile, had secured some blankets from the pile, and each of them made as comfortable a bed as was possible in the darkness.
"Nothing like getting used to bunking on the hard floor?" grunted Bobolink, after he had fussed around for fully ten minutes, complaining that the boards hurt his bones when he lay on his side.
"Now silence!" came from Paul, in a tone of authority; and after that no one dared to utter a single word in the way of conversation.