But it was a false alarm. As the footsteps came nearer the waiting lads saw one of the janitors on his rounds. He did not see them, and passed on.
Andy was doing some hard thinking. The suggestion made by Dunk that the capture of the thief would be more of a black spot for Yale than the fact of the robberies taking place was bearing fruit.
“But what can we do?” Andy asked himself. “We’ve got to stop these thefts if we can, and the only way is to catch the fellow who’s doing it.”
They had been in their hiding place nearly an hour, and were getting exceedingly weary. Dunk shifted about, as did Andy, and it was on the tip of the latter’s tongue to suggest that they give up their plan for the night when they heard a distant door opened cautiously.
“Listen!” whispered Andy.
“All right,” assented his chum. “I hope it amounts to something.”
With strained ears they listened. Now they heard steps coming along the corridor. Curious, shuffling steps they were, not hard, honest heel-and-toe steps—rather those of someone treading softly, as on soles of rubber.
“It’s him all right this time!” whispered Andy in Dunk’s ear.
“I guess so—yes. Shall we follow him?”
“Yes. Take off your shoes.”