started away, the clapper of the bell safe in their possession, while the others brought up the rear, a guard against a possible unexpected attack. But none was made, and presently the long, iron tongue was safely hidden in the rooms of the freshmen.
"I say," remarked Tom Parsons to Sidney Henderson, when the excitement had somewhat calmed down, "I wonder if I'd better report to the proctor, or to Dr. Churchill to-night. I've just entered, you know."
"What's the use?" asked his companion. "You're to room with me that's settled. Mr. Zane, the proctor, won't want to be disturbed. Besides, I rather think that Dr. Churchill, our venerable and respected head by the way, we call him Moses, you know I say I don't believe he'd thank you for coming."
"Why not?"
"Well, you see, there's been more or less of doings to-night. Of course, the faculty are not supposed to know that we take the bell clapper, but you can bet they do know. They pretend not to, and take no notice of it. If you were to go and ring Moses up at this hour, he'd have to become aware—take cognizance, he'd call it—of our little racket. That might make trouble. No, on the whole, let the proctor and Moses alone."
"Why Moses?"
"What's that?"
