The match arched through the darkness like a miniature comet and fell in the grate with a shower of tiny sparks, while Bert, blinded by the sudden transition from light to gloom, went stumbling and bumping to the window.
“What is it?” he asked hoarsely.
“I don’t know,” answered Hansel doubtfully. “Perhaps I was mistaken.”
“Well, well, what was it?” the other demanded impatiently, as he peered out into the darkness.
“See that light stretch over there between the grand stand and the woods? Well, I could have sworn that I saw three figures cross there coming this way.”
“You couldn’t have,” said Bert. “It’s too dark to see anything. You imagined it, probably. Besides, what would three fellows be doing alone? There are eighty-four Towners this year, and when they come they’ll come in a big old bunch. I tell you what, Hansel; what you saw was probably some of our pickets. Gordon and Stark and two or three others are down that way somewhere.”
“Maybe that was it, then,” said Hansel. “Only I was sure I saw something. And they seemed to be sort of crouching along as though they didn’t want to be seen.”
“It was probably some of the pickets coming in. It’s eight o’clock; they won’t be up to-night.”
“Well, let’s go out for a few minutes,” said Hansel. “I can’t study now. I don’t see what good we could do up here, anyhow, if they did come!”
“Well, we wanted them to think we weren’t expecting them. That’s why we told the fellows to stay in their rooms and keep the gas lighted until they heard the alarm given. If they came sneaking up here and found us all standing around the yard waiting for them they might take it into their head to go back again. But it’s so dark now I guess they couldn’t see us, so come on. I’ll light up first, though. What the dickens did I do with that box of matches, I wonder? I had it a minute ago. See if I left it on the window sill there, will you? Here—oh, hang it! I’ve spilled them all over the floor!”