XI THE UNITED CLUBS
The whole dormitory was in an uproar. “Ow! help—help!” Mr. Harrow, having gone out after dinner, had retired late, and was now sound asleep, so another instructor scaled the stairs, getting there long before Mrs. Fox, the matron, could put in an appearance.
In the babel, it was somewhat difficult to locate the boy who had screamed out. At last, “In there, Farnham's room,” cried several voices at once.
“Nightmare, I suppose,” said the instructor to himself, dashing in.
But it was a real thing he soon saw, as a knot of boys huddled around the bed, where the terrified occupant still sat, drawing up his knees to his chin, and screaming all sorts of things, in which “wild beast” and “cold nose” was all that could be distinguished.
JUST THEN SOMETHING SKIMMED OUT FROM THE CORNER.
“Stop this noise!” commanded the instructor, who had none of Mr. Harrow's pleasant but decided ways for quelling an incipient riot. So they bawled on, the boy in bed yelling that he wouldn't be left alone.
Just then something skimmed out from the corner; the boys flew to one side, showing a tendency to find the door. Even the instructor jumped. Then he bethought himself to light the gas, which brought out the fact that there certainly was an animal in the room, as they could hear it now under the bed.