When the four of us got back to boarding school, after the holidays, the first thing we did was to “put up a job” on Plug, the old fellow who occupied the dormitory with us.
“I’ve got it,” said Decker. “We’ll dissect him. I don’t mean out and out; but just make believe, you know. I’ve an uncle that’s a medical man,” and he told me all about it. “I’ll tell Plug we’re going to study anatomy, and must have a subject; and we’ll have some jolly fun. To-night the professor is going to a lecture, and takes his wife with him, so we’ll go up to our dormitory after study hour, and open the door between Plug’s room and ours, and lock the outside ones. We’ll have a table and knives, and a bucket for the blood, and everything prepared, and he’ll believe it all, eh?”
“Jolly!” said I.
And then we set to work to talk it over, sitting on the bench under the dining-room window, and mightily scared we were, to be sure, when, after a while, the window went up behind us, and Plug himself poked his head out. He hadn’t heard a word, though; for all he said was:
“Mornin’, young gents. I hope you’ve had a merry Christmas?”
When Decker makes up his mind to do a thing, he does it. And that night all seemed easy. The professor took his wife to the lecture. The assistant marched the little uns to bed at nine.
Then we heard Plug stumble up, and at ten we four filed upstairs. We’d bought candles and smuggled a couple of long boards up, and I took the sheets off my bed, and spread them over the boards.
Then we took out our four knives, rolled up our shirt sleeves, unlocked Plug’s door, and marched in.
Plug lay sound asleep in bed, or looked as if he did; and Decker walked up to him and shook him.
“Wake up, Plug; you are wanted,” said he solemnly.