"Der olt maferick iss shleeping like a house afire dis morning," chuckled Carl. "Now I vake him," and he pounded on the door.
The emphatic summons brought no answer.
"Meppyso I pedder ged a cannon," giggled Carl. "He iss shleeping his olt headt off."
"He never used to pound his ear like that," remarked Chub.
"He nefed got so tired in Arizony like he dit in Gansas," Carl explained, rattling at the door in a way that would have wakened the occupant of every room on that floor.
But still there was no response from Matt. Carl began to get alarmed.
"Maybe he locked the door and went out?" suggested Chub.
"Der fairst blace he vould go vould be to preakfast," returned Carl, "und he don'd vas dere. Der madder is somet'ing to be infestigated. You peen as t'ick t'roo as me, so I don'd guess ve eider oof us couldt ged t'roo der dransom; aber ve can look t'roo, anyvay. I got some feelings dot dere has somet'ing gone crossvays. Vat it iss I don'd know, aber, py shinks, ve find it oudt."
Carl went for a chair that was standing farther along the hall, placed it in front of the door, climbed up and peered through the open transom.
"Donnervetter!" he exclaimed in astonishment. "Now vat do you t'ink oof dot!"