“It’s funny how when we seniors strike against the School it’s so noble, and when these juniors strike against us it’s so inexcusable,” said Fullerton. “Strikes always did puzzle me.”
“If, instead of talking rubbish, you’d go and fetch Robert with a crowbar to smash open the door,” said Clapperton, “you’d be more use.”
It was getting quite dark in the room by this time, but Wally could be heard refilling his squirt at the jug, “I mean to start now,” said he.
Percy came beside him.
“All serene,” said he; “but why use water when there’s ink?”
“My eye! I never thought of that. Rather! I say, old man, while I remember it, I’ll write home this week. Don’t you fag, good old Percy.”
“Oh no, it’s my turn.”
“Oh, let me. Is that the ink-pot? Hold it tight while I get a good go at it.”
“Suppose we tickle them up with the pea-shooter first,” suggested Lickford. “Mind how you go over the chairs, Cash,” added he, as that hero in the dark got entangled in the second line of fortifications.
“All serene—wire away! Young Ashby, you’d better mix up some soap and coal-dust in the water for use when the ink’s done.”