But by the end of three-quarters of an hour, with the aid of a moist sponge and other persuasives, he got them to their feet well awake to a sense of the undertaking before them.
They still grumbled--at the cold, and the darkness, and the fatigue, and blamed Ramshaw for all three.

They heartily despised themselves for their promise to the Classic boys last night, and still more for the row with their own prefects, which was the cause for all this inconvenience.
But as they gradually slipped on their clothes, and the warm bed receded more into the background, they cheered up and recovered their courage.
There was no difficulty in getting out.

The dormitory door stood open.
Brinkman, who was the prefect on duty, lay snoring loud and long in the end bed.

Mr Forder's bedroom was on the safe side of a brick wall.
Carrying their boots in their hands they slunk off to their study, where they made a hasty selection from the miscellaneous provisions stored over-night, and then, one by one, solemnly slid down the rope.
Once on the grass, in the chill, dark air, depression fell upon them a second time.

Their thoughts returned to the snug beds they had left.
Even Brinkman and Clapperton could not take it out of them more than this white frost and nipping air.