down his nose in the style of Panurge, and all he said was, 'Oh, you abject burblers!'
'You're three beastly scabs!' was the instant retort of the democracy, and they went out amid execrations.
'This is piffling,' said M'Turk. 'Let's get our sallies, and go and shoot bunnies.'
Three saloon-pistols, with a supply of bulleted breech-caps, were stored in Stalky's trunk, and this trunk was in their dormitory, and their dormitory was a three-bed attic one, opening out of a ten-bed establishment, which, in turn, communicated with the great range of dormitories that ran practically from one end of the College to the other. Macrea's house lay next to Prout's, King's next to Macrea's, and Hartopp's beyond that again. Carefully locked doors divided house from house, but each house, in its internal arrangements—the College had originally been a terrace of twelve large houses—was a replica of the next; one straight roof covering all.
They found Stalky's bed drawn out from the wall to the left of the dormer window, and the latter end of Richards protruding from a two-foot-square cupboard in the wall.
'What's all this? I've never noticed it before. What are you tryin' to do, Fatty?'
'Fillin' basins, Muster Corkran.' Richards's voice was hollow and muffled. 'They've been savin' me trouble. Yiss'
' 'Looks like it,' said M'Turk. 'Hi! You'll stick if you don't take care.'
Richards backed puffing.
