“Where are you sleeping?” said the latter to Dick.
“The old place. Where ever did you get to?”
“I’ll tell you. Has any one got my bed there?”
“No. Come on—here, Aspinall, catch hold—look sharp out of the passage. Are you coming, too, Heathcote?”
To his astonishment, Heathcote darted suddenly from his side and dived in at an open door. Before his friend could guess what he meant, he returned with a bundle of clothes in his arms, and a triumphant smile on his face.
“Hurrah!” said he. “Got ’em at last!”
“Whose are they?” asked Dick.
“Mine, my boy. By Jove, I am glad to get them again.”
“Cave there! Westover!” called some one near him. And, as if by magic, the passage was empty in a moment, our heroes being the last to scuttle into their dormitory, with Aspinall between them.
Dick lay awake for some time that night. He was excited, and considered, on the whole, he had made a fair start at Templeton. He had won the new boys’ race, and he was the whipper-in-elect of the Templeton Harriers. Fellows respected him; possibly a good many of them feared him. Certainly, they let him alone.