Bill shook his head despondently.
The whipping seemed to him inevitable, and there seemed to be no way of avoiding it.
“What time do you expect he will whip you—the old brute?” asked Dick.
“He waits till nine o’clock, just after I have gone to bed.”
“Then will you follow my advice?”
“What is it?”
Dick whispered in Bill’s ear the plan he had in view. There was no need to whisper, but he did it to show that the communication was confidential.
This was the plan:
Bill was to go to bed as usual, but in about fifteen minutes he was to get out of the window, slide along the roof of the L and descend to the ground, when Dick was to meet him, escort him to his house and allow him to share his room for the night.
“Then,” said he, “when the old man comes up to tackle you he’ll have to pound the bed and get his satisfaction out of that. Won’t that be a splendid joke?”