“Fraud!” said Jim, with emphasis. He seized his pillow, and hurled it vigorously. It caught Wally on the face and stayed there, and beneath its shelter the victim still snored on serenely.
Jim rose with deliberation and, seizing the bedclothes, gave a judicious pull, which ended in Wally’s suddenly finding himself on the floor. He clasped wildly at the blankets, but they were dragged from his reluctant grasp. Jim’s toe stirred him gently and at length he rose.
“Beast!” he said miserably. “What on earth’s the good of getting up at this hour?”
“Got to make an early start,” replied his host. “Come and stir up old Harry.”
Harry was noted as a sleeper. Pillows hurled on top of him were as nought. The bedclothes were removed, but he turned on his side and slumbered like a little child.
“And to think,” Wally said, “that that chap springs up madly when the getting-up bell rings once at school!”
“School was never like this,” Jim grinned. “There’s the squirt, Wal.”
The squirt was there; so was the jug of water, and a moment sufficed to charge the weapon. The nozzle was gently inserted into the sleeper’s pyjama collar, and in a moment the drenched and wrathful hero arose majestically from his watery pillow and, seizing his tormentors, banged their heads together with great effort.
“You’re slow to wake, but no end of a terror when once you rouse up,” said Wally, ruefully rubbing his pate.
“Goats!” said Harry briefly, rubbing his neck with a hard towel. “Come on and have a swim.”