The sergeant walked off, smacking his lips, and Don and Bert kept on up the stairs.
“I rather think Egan has been there,” observed the latter.
“I know he has,” replied Don, “and the taste of that maple syrup clings to his palate yet.”
On entering their room Don threw himself into a chair, stretched his legs out before him, buried his hands in his pockets, and gazed down at the floor in a brown study; while Bert leaned his elbows on the table, rested his chin on his hands, and looked at him. Presently Don threw back his head and laughed so loudly and heartily that his brother was obliged to laugh too.
“I never dreamed of such a thing,” said Bert, who knew what was passing in Don’s mind.
“No more did I. Just think how that dignified father of ours must have looked running the guard and standing punishment for it afterward! He took good care not to say a word to us about it, didn’t he? I say, Bert,” exclaimed Don, suddenly, and then he as suddenly paused.
“Don’t you do it,” said Bert, earnestly. “You will be certain to get yourself into trouble by it.”
“If I did, I should be perfectly willing to take the consequences. But father couldn’t haul me over the coals for it, could he?”
“If father were here now, he wouldn’t think of doing such things.”
“Neither would I if I were a man.”