The big boy quickly explained, and then Dave, with eyes blinking, spoke up:
"If you have any extra mattresses and a lot of straw you might be able to put us up for the night."
"Ha, ha! Nice way o' puttin' it! Ye kin hev a room, sure," answered the man, promptly, "an' some o' them blankets you've toted with yer ought to take the hardness out o' the floor. I'll keep open as late as ye like; but day prices don't go at night—understan'? I can't afford to lose nothing."
"You won't," assured Jack.
A bargain was finally struck, and the boys, with minds at ease, settled back contentedly. The hours slipped by with provoking slowness; conversation lagged; Dave fell asleep, while the others yawned and stretched.
Finally a dingy old clock on the dingiest of old mantelpieces rang out in quavering strokes the hour of eleven.
"Can't stand this any more, fellows," exclaimed Dick, drowsily. "Who wants to take a spin—you, Jack? Well, come ahead. I say, Dave—Dave!"
"Lemme be," mumbled the stout boy. And Dick, who had leaned over to tickle him with a straw, found his wrists seized in a vise-like grip. "Don't bother," laughed Dave; "I'm coming."
The proprietor opened the door to let them out.
A shaft of light fell across the street, and lighted up in ghostlike patches the old rugged oak whose branches almost swept against the corner of the house. In the silence of the night, their footsteps clattered noisily, as they began to trudge down a steep slope.