bolsters were crashing on him right and left. He rolled into the passage, spluttering and squirming and gurgling The terrific din rang through the House. Startled voices were heard calling from downstairs; doors opened; lights flashed on. The deep, fruity voice of Mr. Prout was heard; is that uproar? “what—what What?” roared Bob Cherry. “Burglars!” “Urrrgh! Groogh! Wurrgggh!” In the passage the sooty man scrambled frantically to his feet. Pillows and bolsters swiped at him, and he fairly turned and ran roared Bob Cherry. After “After him!” “Burglars! him!” “Stop him!” “Stop thief!” let him get “Don’t away!” ejaculated Mr. Prout “Great gad!” He reached the landing and switched on the light, just in time to see a blackened figure bolting out of the dormitory passage, with a mob of yelling juniors in pursuit. Who it was, what it was, Mr. Prout did not know; he stared at it petrified. “Stop him!” “Burglars!” The roar from the passage enlightened Mr. Prout! He leaped in the way of the running figure, and grasped at it manfully. Prout was a stout fellow—not only in circumference. He jumped at the blackened figure and grasped it, and they went over together on the landing. Clouds of soot scattered over Prout, and he gasped and spluttered. But he held on, like the stout fellow he was. you gasped Prout. have you—rascal. I have you! “Surrender, scroundrel!” “I Surrender!” gasped Bob Cherry. “Oh crikey!” have gasped Prout. not be alarmed, my boys, I have caught the “I him!” “Do scroundrel! I have him safe! A negro, I think—a ruffianly negro!” “Oh crumbs!” got gasped Johnny Bull. got the “Prout’s him!” “Prout’s burglar!” “Oh scissors!” The was stirring frantically in grasp. Probably he would soon “burglar” Prout’s have accounted for the stout Prout. But there was plenty of help at hand for Prout.
bolsters were crashing on him right and left. He rolled into the passage, spluttering and squirming and gurgling The terrific din rang through the House. Startled voices were heard calling from downstairs; doors opened; lights flashed on. The deep, fruity voice of Mr. Prout was heard; “what—what is that uproar? What?” “Burglars!” roared Bob Cherry. “Urrrgh! Groogh! Wurrgggh!” In the passage the sooty man scrambled frantically to his feet. Pillows and bolsters swiped at him, and he fairly turned and ran “After him!” roared Bob Cherry. “Burglars! After him!” “Stop him!” “Stop thief!” “Don’t let him get away!” “Great gad!” ejaculated Mr. Prout He reached the landing and switched on the light, just in time to see a blackened figure bolting out of the dormitory passage, with a mob of yelling juniors in pursuit. Who it was, what it was, Mr. Prout did not know; he stared at it petrified. “Stop him!” “Burglars!” The roar from the passage enlightened Mr. Prout! He leaped in the way of the running figure, and grasped at it manfully. Prout was a stout fellow—not only in circumference. He jumped at the blackened figure and grasped it, and they went over together on the landing. Clouds of soot scattered over Prout, and he gasped and spluttered. But he held on, like the stout fellow he was. “Surrender, you scroundrel!” gasped Prout. “I have you—rascal. I have you! Surrender!” “Oh crikey!” gasped Bob Cherry. “I have him!” gasped Prout. “Do not be alarmed, my boys, I have caught the scroundrel! I have him safe! A negro, I think—a ruffianly negro!” “Oh crumbs!” “Prout’s got him!” gasped Johnny Bull. “Prout’s got the burglar!” “Oh scissors!” The “burglar” was stirring frantically in Prout’s grasp. Probably he would soon have accounted for the stout Prout. But there was plenty of help at hand for Prout.