"Wow!" he muttered. "He's gone without me!"
And with this thought in his mind he rushed to his watch to see if he were too late.
No, it was just ten minutes to four, and Texas started hastily to dress, wondering at the same time what on earth could have led Mark to go so early and without his friend.
"That was the goldurndest queer trick I ever did hear of in my life, by jingo!"
It took him but a few short moments to fling his clothes on; and then he stepped quickly across the hall and entered a room on the other side.
"I wonder if that Parson's gone with him," he muttered.
The "Parson" had not, for Texas found him engaged in encasing his long, bony legs in a pair of trousers that would have held a dozen such.
"Are you accoutered for the combat?" he whispered, in a sepulchral tone, sleepily brushing his long black hair from his eyes. "Where is Mark?"
"The fool's gone up there without us!" replied the Texan, angrily.
"Without us!" echoed Stanard, sliding into his pale sea-green socks.