"I did. Most likely Nat heard of our feast, and it made him extra sore to think we were having a good time and he wasn't invited."
"That is true, and I guess" Shadow stopped short, and a curious look crossed his face.
"What is it, Shadow? Do you know anything of this?" asked Roger.
"Why, I—er—that is, I had a dream last night," stammered the story-teller of the school. "Or, maybe it wasn't a dream after all," he went on, in confusion.
"See here, Shadow, have you been sleep-walking again, and did you make off with our shoes?" demanded Phil. He remembered only too well how poor Shadow was addicted to walking in his sleep, and how he had once walked off with a valuable collection of rare postage stamps belonging to Doctor Clay.
"I—I don't think so," stammered Shadow, and got as red as a beet. "But I had a queer dream. I forgot about it at first, but now it comes back to me. I somehow dreamed that somebody came into this room and bent over me while I was in bed, and then picked up something. I started to stop him—and then I went sound asleep again."
"Who was the person?" questioned Polly Vane.
"I don't know."
"See here, Shadow, I'll wager a new necktie that you walked off with our shoes!" declared
