Buster Beggs, as if talking in his sleep. "Oh, what a sum to do! 24a plus ab square——" and the rest was lost in a mumble.
"He is certainly asleep," was the worthy doctor's comment. "His algebra has been too much for him."
The assistant did not reply, but gazed into some more of the clothes closets, only to find everything in perfect order. Then he looked under the beds and tables.
"Well?" demanded the doctor, in even a harder voice than that previously employed.
"I—do not seem to find anything wrong, sir," admitted the second assistant, humbly.
"Then your informant must have been mistaken."
"Well, there was no mistake about his being where I found him," returned Job Haskers, grimly.
"It was some small lark, probably, and the boy magnified it," was Dr. Clay's answer, as he stalked into the hall again. A moment later he and the assistant took their departure.
For fully a minute the dormitories remained perfectly silent—each boy straining his ears to catch the sounds of the retreating footsteps; then one cover after another was flung back and all sat up.
"Are they gone," whispered Sam Day.
