“All right, all right, Bob, so it is.” And Tom roused up on an elbow and rubbed his eyes. Then he gave a prodigious yawn.
“Whew!” he exclaimed. “What a night I had of it. I don’t wonder we slept late, do you?”
“Well, hardly,” answered Bob. “My! But I can hear that explosion go off now, it seems to me. And wasn’t that an awful sight when the flame shot up against the sky? I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”
“We’ll have to keep our eyes on Harvey after this for awhile,” said Tom. “Hulloa!” he exclaimed, suddenly, as they tumbled out on to the floor. “Where are our clothes? We left them right here when we turned in, didn’t we?”
The boys looked at each other and stared in astonishment.
“Of course we did,” answered Bob.
“What can it mean?” gasped Tom.
“Hope to die if I can guess,” said Bob. “It’s plain enough, though, that some one has been in here while we were asleep and cleaned out our wardrobe. Not a thing left. You don’t suppose that Harvey—”
“Nonsense,” interrupted Tom. “It’s that young scoundrel of a Joe Warren. He’s always up to his monkey-shines. It’s some of his doings. He was the one, mind you, that proposed yesterday that we carry our change of good clothing up to his cottage for safe-keeping. Here we are, now, without a rag to put on.”
“I suppose he thinks we’ll have to march up to his cottage in blankets, like Indians,” said Bob. “Well, if it comes to that, I’ll stay right here till night. You don’t catch me parading around in a blanket in the daytime, to be laughed at by everybody.”