Taking their valises, the boys, with a parting glance around the room to see if they had left anything, opened the door softly, and crept downstairs cautiously, waiting long after each step; for, as Ralph had said, they did creak unmercifully, as if in a league to betray them.
They knew the boys, their schoolmates, were too soundly sleeping to be disturbed, and if Mr. Andrews, whose room was at the farther end of the hall, did not hear them, they were safe.
They were down at last; and, unlocking the outer door, they stepped outside, and closed it carefully behind them.
"Good!" whispered Ben. "Now put on your boots, and away you go."
The moon was down long ago, and only the stars gave light to the runaways as they hastened through the Academy garden and over the fence into the field leading to the shore, feeling that every bush by the way might have some one behind to arrest them.
Everything on the Cape was quiet.
There were several vessels at the wharf, but if manned at all, it was by a sleeping crew. They crept under the outside stairs leading to the second story of a sail-loft, and waited impatiently and uncomfortably for daylight.
"It seems like a graveyard or a funeral. I hate things so still," whispered Ben, as if whispering were necessary in such stillness.
"It is an hour yet before daylight," said Ralph, looking at his watch.
"We may as well have a nap."