“The gardener, when I passed you and Durfee.”
“Oh, nothing much. He came along and didn’t see us, and I happened to have my foot out, and he very stupidly fell over it. That’s all. Then Harry and I ran like thunder and boosted you over. You were apparently going to sleep on the side of the post; and we got over about six yards ahead of the gardener, I guess. It was a narrow squeak.”
“Do you think we will get in trouble?” asked Gerald, anxiously.
“Wouldn’t be a bit surprised,” answered Alf, cheerfully. “If I fall asleep, Gerald, and walk into a fence, I wish you’d wake me up, please.”
That trip back to Yardley wasn’t much fun. They were all pretty tired and rather sleepy, and the four miles seemed like ten. Fortunately, they met no one on the way until they reached the station at Wissining. There a freight crew was busying itself about the platform, but it was quite dark by then, and they slipped past unheard and unseen. Once on school ground they stopped at the foot of The Prospect and held council. In view of what Alf termed the extemporaneous incidents of their visit to Broadwood, it had become more than ever desirable that they reach their several rooms unseen. To that end it was decided that they should gain their dormitories by way of the gymnasium, and should go one at a time. So they skirted the base of the hill until they were near the tennis courts, and then gained the porch of the gymnasium. From there, out of sight of any dormitory window, they made their way, one at a time, toward their rooms. The Yard was dark and, in the end, the last of the Predatory Marauders gained safety and seclusion apparently undetected.
In 28 Clarke there was little conversation during the hurried process of disrobing. It was practically all contained in two sentences, as follows:
“If anything comes of this, Gerald, please remember that I did my best to keep you out of it.” (This in a stern and somewhat displeased tone of voice.)
“Yes, Dan, I will.” (This very, very meekly.)
Then they both went to sleep and, in spite of the uncertainties of the future, slumbered as soundly as though there was no such thing as a conscience!