“I know it; but I promised to wait at this door and let Gordon in. He has no key of his own.”
“If he doesn’t come along pretty soon he’ll not get in this morning without being reported, for Gulick comes after me.”
“Is that so?[so?] Then he’d better hurry, that’s a fact. I can’t wait much longer for him without bringing myself into trouble.”
The sentry, who did not dare remain longer in conversation with Tom for fear that the officer of the day or the corporal of the guard might come quietly up the stairs and catch him at it, walked away toward the other end of the hall, while Tom closed the door and stood there in the dark, impatiently awaiting the arrival of Don Gordon. He heard his friends as they crossed the landing one after another, and went on up to their dormitories, but the boy he wanted to see did not make his appearance. Presently some one jerked open the back door, slammed it behind him, and came up the stairs in great haste.
“Who is that idiot, I wonder? He makes noise enough to arouse the whole school. B-l-e-r-s,” whispered Tom, as the boy sprang upon the landing.
“R-a-m,” came the prompt response.
“Who is it?” continued Tom.
“Brown.”
“Well you are making a fearful racket, the first thing you know,” said Tom, angrily.
“I am in a hurry,” panted the boy. “Here’s the very mischief to pay. That fool Henderson has gone and challenged one of our fellows.”