“Bless you, sir,” he said. “I can tell you that now. It’s the talk of the place, among the help. One of the girls saw Mr. Harris and his cousin carrying a heavy box up to his room just before réveille this morning.”
And as Mark turned away again he was ready to shout aloud for joy.
CHAPTER XI.
STEALING FROM THIEVES.
“Now,” said Mark, when he rejoined his companions, “we’ve got pretty definite information to go on with now. Mr. Chandler’s got our money in his room. The question is what are we to do next?”
The plebes were sitting over in a secluded corner of Trophy Point discussing this. Texas doubled up his fists with an angry exclamation.
“Git it back!” growled he, with a characteristic disregard of details.
“But how?” said Mark. “Of course we could have him arrested, for he knew the money was ours. But if we did he’d tell how we skipped camp to dig it and we’d be dismissed from West Point. Then there’d be the old Nick to pay.”
“One case where I’d be thankful I’m not in the habit of paying my debts,” observed Dewey, tacking on a stray “b’gee” as usual. “As to Bull and his cousin, I say we punch their faces till they give up the money. Punch their faces, b’gee!”