"No fear of that," said Bill. "What's the answer, Bob? Shall we merely mob him or what shall it be?"
"Let's dump him on the floor and have some fun with him," said Bob.
The two boys then went over and with a mighty shove, they dumped Pud on the floor and turned cot and mattress over him. They both climbed on top and only smothered sounds could be heard from beneath the pile. Then like Goliath in his wrath, Pud arose, cot, mattress, blankets, two yelling boys, and all, and shook himself. He made a bull-like rush at Bob but Bill got him from behind and for five minutes there was some pretty rough-house work in that room.
"Ye gods! I'm hot," at last cried Bob, stepping back for a breathing spell.
"Same here," said Pud, sitting down on a cot and wiping off the sweat with a pajama top that had gotten separated from its master during the melee.
"Let's get dressed and get some breakfast," said Bill.
"Is this the regular setting up exercises that this little company of mild-eyed anarchists have every morning?" asked Mr. Waterman in his quiet way. "If so, I am afraid that I cannot recommend it for persons nervously disposed."
"Oh, this is nothing," said Bob. "This will just give us an appetite."
"Well, I hear Madame Colombe busy getting breakfast ready, so we'll just be in time," said Mr. Waterman.
Ten minutes later, the party was seated around a table in the dining room eating a breakfast of oatmeal, milk, ham and eggs, hot biscuits and coffee.