“Not so bad,” said Leonard. He felt gingerly of his own nose. “This thing’s mighty sore yet. Would you do anything to it?” “Your beak? No, not until we get back again. Bathe it in arnica then. All it needs now is soap and water.” The youth who had gone pounding up to the floor above a few minutes earlier now came thumping down again. The dormitory was by no means quiet, but the visitor’s passing sounded well above all else. Slim frowned. “That’s the noisiest brute I ever heard,” he muttered. He went over to the window and looked down, but all he could see in the darkness was a dim shape going toward Lykes. “Must be wearing wooden shoes, from the sound.” He peered in the direction of the watcher under the tree and then pulled the green shade down. “I hope your feet are cold out there,” he muttered. Both boys laid aside the clothes they had worn to New Falmouth, since, as one never knew just what might occur in the course of a class celebration, it was customary to wear articles that were not highly valued. Slim pulled a pair of gray flannel trousers from the closet and hunted out an old white sweater. Leonard selected a veteran suit of grayish tweed that, during the past summer, had served on Sundays and holidays at the farm. They didn’t hurry in their preparations, since, if only as a joke on the freshman spies, they meant to time their trip to the village while the enemy was at supper. Besides, they were both feeling the effects of the game in the shape of lame muscles and a general disinclination to move faster than a slow walk. Six o’clock struck while they were still dawdling and talking lazily of the afternoon’s experiences, and doors began to open along the corridors and the dwellers in Haylow set off for Lawrence Hall and supper. Slim struggled into an old bath-robe and looked around for his slippers. “I sort of think I’ll be ready to eat, myself, by the time seven o’clock comes,” he remarked. “Where the dickens is that other slipper of mine?” “I’m ready now,” said Leonard. “I hope to goodness nothing happens to that dinner before I get at it!” “Don’t worry, General. Nothing’s going to happen to the food. I’ll bet that right at this minute Kingman is mounting guard down there with a shot-gun loaded with buckshot!” “Well, then I hope that nothing happens to keep me from reaching it,” amended Leonard, smiling. Slim chuckled. “That’s different,” he said. “I’ll guarantee the feed, General, but I won’t guarantee the guests. Ah, here you are, you lopsided old reprobate!” He pulled the missing slipper from under the further side of his bed and thrust a bare foot into it. “Guess we might as well wash up,” he announced. “No use cutting it too fine. I don’t run from trouble, but I don’t hunt for it, either, and maybe we’ll be just as well off if we get inside that restaurant before the freshies finish their supper.”