"Take it to him myself."
"You! He'll be suspicious at once and won't touch it."
"Perhaps not—we'll wait and see."
When the feast was practically at an end, Dave put the doctored salad in a dessert dish, topping it with some that was sweet and good. On all he laid some fancy crackers which one of the boys had contributed.
"Now, here is where I try the trick," he said, and put on a sweater, leaving the upper portion partly over his face. Then, leaving his dormitory, he tiptoed his way to No. 13 and pushed open the door softly.
As he had surmised, Nat Poole had gone to bed and had just fallen asleep. Going noiselessly to his side, Dave bent over him and whispered into his ear:
"Here, Nat, is something I stole for you from that crowd that was having the feast. Eat it up and don't tell the other fellows."
"Eh, what? The feast?" stammered Nat, and took the plate in his hand. "Who are you?"
"Hush!" whispered Dave, warningly. "Don't wake the others. I stole it for you. Eat it up. I'll tell you how I did it in the morning. It's a joke on Dave Porter!" And then Dave glided away from the bed and out of the room like a ghost, shutting the door noiselessly after him.
