Gerald left in apparent high dudgeon, deaf to Arthur’s invitations to remain and superintend the packing; but as he scuttled down the stairs and across to his own room, he chuckled softly several times and seemed in very good humor. He began the packing of his own trunk at once; and when Dan came hurrying in a few minutes before six, the trunk was locked and strapped, and Gerald was giving attention to his suit case.
“Well, you’re smart,” said Dan, approvingly. “That’s what I’ve got to get busy and attend to. We got to chinning over there, and I forgot all about packing. I’ll get at it after supper, and then I guess we’d better both get to bed pretty early. You’re going up on the nine-seven, aren’t you, with the rest of us?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” answered Gerald. “Any way, I guess it will be a pretty good plan to get a lot of sleep to-night. Traveling,” he added, demurely, “is very tiresome, isn’t it?”
“Very,” agreed Dan.
After supper, Dan set about his packing, and Gerald helped him. The task was completed about half-past eight, and then Dan announced carelessly that he guessed he’d run over to Dudley for a few minutes. “I want to see Alf about something,” he added. “If I were you, Gerald, I’d get to bed pretty soon. If I come back late, I’ll be quiet so as not to wake you.”
“All right,” answered Gerald, suppressing a yawn. “But you needn’t be especially quiet. You know nothing short of an earthquake can wake me after I’m once asleep, Dan.”
As soon as the door was closed behind his roommate, Gerald hurriedly removed his outer clothes, pulled pajamas on, found a book, and dashed into bed. As it proved, his hurry wasn’t necessary, for Dan didn’t return for over an hour, during which time Gerald, propped up in bed, read comfortably. When he heard Dan’s footsteps he hid the book under the pillow, turned his face from the light and feigned sleep. Dan pottered around quietly for some fifteen or twenty minutes convinced that Gerald was fast asleep, and then put out the light and crept into his own bed. Although Gerald didn’t dare turn over to make sure, he was pretty certain that Dan had, like himself, removed only his shoes, coat, vest, and trousers.
For the better part of an hour the two boys lay there silently and pretended to be asleep. I fancy it was harder for Dan than for Gerald, for the latter was entertained by the thought that he was hoaxing Dan. At last—it was some time after the clock had struck ten—Gerald heard his roommate’s bed creak, and then the soft patter of feet on the floor. Dan was getting into his outer clothes again. Gerald lay still and waited for a space, but Dan took so long that Gerald couldn’t resist the impulse to scare the other, so he yawned and stretched and turned over in his bed. Deep silence settled over the room. Gerald smiled in the darkness.
Finally, Dan took heart and continued his preparations, and presently Gerald heard the door open almost noiselessly and close again. At once he was out of bed and groping for his trousers. He had had the forethought to leave his clothes near by, and to arrange them so that he could get into them easily. He didn’t dare take time enough to lace his shoes. He merely thrust his feet into them, tucked the strings out of the way, and followed Dan.
Downstairs he crept. The door, locked at ten o’clock every night by Mr. Collins, the Assistant Principal, was ajar. He opened it cautiously and looked out. No one was in sight. The night was mild, and a half-moon sailed in and out of a cloudy sky. Closing the door behind him, Gerald crept along in the shadows of the buildings until he had reached the front of Oxford. He knew that the others would meet somewhere, and believed that from here he was certain to see or hear them.