“No,” gasped Tom, who was greatly alarmed.
“But I say he has, for I heard him. Come on. We musn’t stay here another moment.”
“But I promised to let Gordon in,” said Tom.
“What do you care for Gordon? Let him go and take care of yourself. That’s what I am going to do.”
So saying the boy went on up the stairs, leaving Tom to himself. The latter could not make up his mind what to do. He knew that he was in danger, but still he did not like to desert Don in his extremity. Don, speaking in school-boy parlance, had shown himself to be a thoroughbred. He could sing a good song, tell an interesting story, and, better than all, he was provided with a liberal supply of pocket-money, which he spent with a lavish hand. This was enough to raise him to a high place in the estimation of Tom Fisher, whose own supply of dimes was limited.
“I have it?” soliloquized Tom, at length, “I’ll leave the key in the lock, and if he succeeds in getting by the guard he can let himself in. Of course he will have sense enough to fasten the door after him, and put the key in his pocket. Henderson will have to explain his conduct in the morning. He had no business to halt any of our fellows unless he did it to protect himself.”
Tom hurriedly ascended the next flight of stairs, but scarcely had he reached the top when the back door was thrown open again and another boy came bounding up the steps. It was Clarence Duncan, who was congratulating himself on the complete success of his plans. He lingered a moment or two in the hall where Fisher had stood waiting for Don Gordon, and then went on to his own dormitory. The floor-guard was so very deeply interested in a dime novel that he did not appear to see or hear him as he passed, and in a few seconds more Clarence was safe in bed. He was just in time. He had not been between the sheets two minutes before he heard the gruff tones of the officer of the day, who was questioning the floor-guard. Clarence could not hear what they said, but he knew what they were talking about. Presently he heard doors softly opened and closed. The sounds came nearer, and at last the door of his own room was opened, and the officer of the day, attended by the corporal of the guard, who carried a lantern in his hand, stepped across the threshold. The officer saw Duncan and Fisher lying with their faces to the wall, apparently fast asleep, took note of the fact that their clothes were deposited in orderly array upon the chairs at the side of their beds, and departed satisfied with his investigations. In a few minutes the relief came up, and Clarence began to breathe easier.
“Say, Fisher,” he whispered, “are you asleep?”
“No,” was the reply. “And what’s more, I don’t want to go to sleep. If I do, I am afraid I shall miss roll-call, and then the superintendent would know where to look to find at least one fellow who ran the guards.”
“I think myself that it would be a good plan for us to keep awake. Say, Fisher,” whispered Clarence, again, “Gordon’s goose is cooked.”