Frank and Paul, having caught his idea, and being nimble enough to follow close on his heels, also had the experience of taking headers, so for a few seconds there was something of a mix-up.
When they managed to untie the tangle and gain their feet, look as they might there was no sign of the little man to be seen. He had vanished as quietly as the wreaths of fog do in the morning when a puff of air welcomes the rising of the sun.
"Please somebody kick me for a duffer!" pleaded the disgusted Lanky.
Loud voices attested to the fact that the smash and jingle of falling fragments of glass had instantly awakened every sleeper in the near-by bunk-house.
Out they came running, helter-skelter, some in pajamas, others partly dressed, as was their habit while sleeping, but all wildly excited.
"What happened, boys?" bellowed Lige Smith, racing up barefooted.
"That measly little runt with the big head's been nosing around here again! But he got scared off when my elbow slipped and broke the window."
It was Lanky who made this hurried explanation, ready to shoulder all the blame of the mishap. No one had accepted his invitation to indulge in kicking him, he felt sure both Frank and Paul must feel as disgusted as he was himself.