"You shoot up and get Jimmy and Lewis," Frank continued, "and I'll shoot down and hitch up my trap. Have them come to the bank right under our window, and we'll wait there and see what happens." Frank was off with a rush to do his part of the work, and David started on his errand. In ten or fifteen minutes Frank had accomplished his purpose, and was back, waiting at the bank behind Warren Hall, alongside the trunk of a big oak, protected from the cold of the late November night by a thick sweater and heavy cap. He was joined there a few minutes later by the three boys and the Wee One; for on the way over they had run across the latter and brought him along.
When the new arrivals came to the meeting-place, the Wee One wanted to know what it was all about. Frank gave a whispered account of what he had done.
"Yes, but what gives you the notion that the great scene from Macbeth is coming off to-night?"
"Never mind, I just feel that it is, and I wanted you fellows to see it. All we have to do is to watch here and keep out of sight."
"If you expect us to watch here long with you," said the Wee One, "you should have provided a gas stove or something. It's blithering cold." The boys huddled up close together, and waited while the minutes passed without anything happening.
"My opinion of it is, that you're a bum guesser. Get us out of our cosey corners just to see how wrong you could be," grumbled the Wee One.
"Keep your nerve, Big Fellow," retorted Frank. "'Everything comes to him who waits,' so the copybook of my fast vanishing childhood told me. The night is only begun. I say, Lewis, will you run over and look in the library and see if the Codfish is there?"
"Run over yourself," suggested Lewis.
"'Fraid cat. I can't go," said Frank. "I'm stage manager of this act, and I can't leave the job."