"Can't you coax him out, sir?" said Glyn, as he approached the proprietor.

"No, I can't coax him out," cried Ramball snappishly; "but you mind your own business, I know mine. I have had enough of you putting your spoons in my porridge."

"Here, Mr Severn! Mr Singh!" shouted the mathematical master. "This way! We are going back to the college." But he did not go far.

"But I want to see the elephant brought out, sir," replied Singh. "He oughtn't to be left like this. He may do mischief."

"Oh, now you've begun, have you?" yelped the proprietor, whose voice in his anger had gradually reached the soprano. "I suppose you would like to have a try?"

"Oh, I don't want to interfere," replied Singh coolly. "Where do you want the elephant to go?"

"Where do I want him to go? Why, home of course, before he does any more mischief. I wish he was dead; that I do! And he shall be too. Here, Jem, run back to Number One—here's the key—and bring my rifle and the powder-flask and bullet-bag. I'm sick of him. He'll be killing somebody before he's done—a beast!—Tigers is angels to him, sir," he continued appealingly to Morris. "He's the wickedest elephant I ever see, and I've spent more on him in damages than I paid for him at first; but he's played his last prank, and if I can't drive him I can shoot.—'Member that lion, my lads, as killed the gentleman's hoss?"

"Ay, ay, ay!" came in a low murmured growl.

"Got out, sir," continued the proprietor, waving one hand about oratorically, and dabbing his bald head with his hand. "Here, some of you, where's my yellow handkerchy? Oh, I know; I left it in that there apple-wood, and I'd lay sixpence, he's picked it up and swallowed it because it's yellow and he thinks it's the skin of a big orange. Got out of his cage, he did, sir, that there lion—been fiddling all night, I suppose, at the bolts and bars—and we followed him up to where he got in the loose-box of a gentleman's stable; and there was the poor horse down—a beauty he was—and that there lion—Arena his name was—lying on him with his face flattened out and teeth buried in the poor hoss's throat, so that when I got to the stable door there he was, all eyes and whiskers, and growling at you like thunder. I knowed what my work was, sir," continued the proprietor, addressing his conversation entirely to Morris, "and you can ask my men, sir; they was there."

"Ay, ay, ay!" was growled.

"It warn't the time for showing no white feathers when a lion's got his monkey up like that. I brought my gun with me—fine old flint-lock rifle it is, and I got it now—and the next minute that there dead horse had got a dead lion lying beside him. But I sold his skin to a gent for a ten-pun note, to have it stuffed, and it's in his front hall now, near Lungpuddle, in Lancashire.—Well, you, are you going to fetch that there rifle, or am I to fetch it myself?" he yelled at his man.

"Oh, I wouldn't shoot him, guv'nor," growled the man.

"What's it got to do with you?" almost shrieked his master.

"Oh, I aren't going to lose nothing, guv'nor, only a bit of a chum. He's knocked me about a bit, and tried to squeeze all the wind out of me two or three times; but that was only his fun. I shouldn't like to see him hurt."

"Then perhaps you'd like to go and fetch him out of that there urcherd?" cried his master.

"He aren't in," said the man sturdily; "and if he were, no, thank you, to-day. To-morrow morning perhaps I shouldn't mind; but I do say that it'd be a burning shame to shoot the finest elephant there is in England. The one at the Slogical Gardens in London is nothing to him, and you know, master, that that's the truth."

"You fetch my rifle."

"I wouldn't talk quite so loud, guv'nor, if I was you," replied the man. "Elephants is what they call 'telligent beasts, and you don't know but what that there annymile is a-hearing every word you say and only waiting till I'm gone to make a roosh, knock you down, and do his war-dance all over you."

"Hah! The same as they trample the life out of the tigers at home."

Every one turned sharply upon the speaker, whose voice sounded clear and ringing, as he stood there frowning angrily at the elephant's master.

"Bah! Stuff!" cried the man in his high-pitched voice. "I have read anecdotes about animals, and I know all them stories by heart. They look as if they could; but them beasts can't think, and the stories are all lies.—You be off and fetch that rifle before I send somebody else; and look here, Jem, if you don't obey my orders you take a fortnight's notice to quit from next Saturday, when you are paid."

"Then you are going to shoot the elephant," cried Glyn, "because you don't know how to manage him?"

"What!" half-shrieked the man. "Here, I say, where do you go to school? Things are coming to a pretty pass when boys like you begin teaching me, who've been nigh forty year in the wild-beast trade! What next?"

"Glyn Severn's right," said Singh sternly.

"Here's another of them!" cried the man, looking round from face to face.

"Quite right," continued Singh. "Why, the poorest coolie in my father's dominions would manage one of the noble beasts far better."

"Ho!" said Ramball sarcastically. "Then perhaps the biggest swell out of my father's dominions would like to show me how to do it himself."

"I don't know that I can," said Singh quietly; "but I dare say the poor beast would obey me if I tried."

"Oh, pray try, then, sir.—Only, look here, governor," continued the man, addressing Morris, who was not far off, "I don't know whether he's your son or your scholar—I wash my hands of it. I warn you; he's a vicious beast, and I aren't a-going to pay no damages if my young cock-a-hoop comes to grief."

Singh laughed a curious, disdainful laugh. Then he took a step in the direction of the elephant, but Glyn caught him by the arm.

"Don't do that, Glyn," said the boy quietly. "I don't believe he would hurt me. Come with me if you like. You know what he'll do if he's going to be savage, and you run one way and I'll run the other."

This was in a low voice, unheard by any one but him for whom it was intended; and the next moment, amidst a profound hush, the two boys moved towards the elephant, who was swaying his head slowly from side to side, and looking "ugly," as the man Jem afterwards said.

Then out of the silence, urged by a sense of duty, Morris cried in a harsh, cracked, emotional voice, not in the least like his own, "Severn! Prince! Come back! What are you going to do?"

His last words came as if he were half-choked, and then like the rest he stood gazing, with a strange clammy moisture gathering in his hands and upon his brow, for as the two boys drew near, the elephant suddenly raised its head, threw up its trunk, and uttered a shrill trumpeting sound.

As the defiant cry ceased, Singh stepped forward in advance of his companion, and shouted a few words in Hindustani.

The elephant lowered its trunk and stood staring at the boy, as if wonderingly, before coming slowly forward in its heavy, ponderous way, crashing down the green herbage beneath the orchard trees, and its great grey bulk parting the twigs of a tree that stood alone, and beneath whose shade the monster stopped.

The boys stood still now, and Singh uttered a short, sharp order in Hindustani once more.

Instantly, but in a slow, ponderous way, the great beast slowly subsided, kneeling in the long grass, while Singh went up quite close, with the animal watching him sharply the while, and laying out its trunk partly towards him, so that when close up the boy planted one of his feet in the wrinkling folds of the monstrous nose, caught hold of the huge flapping ear beside him, climbed quickly up, and the next minute was astride the tremendous neck and uttering another command in the Indian tongue. The result was that the elephant raised its ears slightly so that Singh could nestle his legs beneath; and as he settled himself in position a merry smile spread about his lips.

"Come on, Glyn," he cried. "It's all right. Take my hand."

Glyn obeyed, and as if fully accustomed to the act, he rapidly climbed up and settled himself behind his companion.

There was another sharp order, and the great beast slowly heaved himself up, muttering thunder, and grumbling the while.

"Well, I am blessed!" cried the proprietor. "You, Jem, did you ever see such a game as this?"

The man addressed did not say a word, but gave one thigh a tremendous slap, while the elephant stretched out his trunk towards them, took a step or two in their direction, and uttered a squeal.

Singh shouted out a few words angrily, and the long serpent-like trunk hung pendent once again, with the tip curled up inward so that it should not brush the ground.

"Now then," cried Singh to the proprietor, "where do you want him to go?"

"Right up into the show-field, squire," cried the man excitedly. "Think you can take him?"

"Try," replied the boy with a scornful laugh; "but I ought to have an ankus. But never mind, I can do it with words.—I say, Glyn," he continued, speaking over his left shoulder, "we are going to ride in the procession after all. If the Colonel knew, what would he say?"

"But—but—" cried Morris. "My dear boys, pray, pray come down! Think of the consequences to yourselves—and what will be said to me."

"Oh, it's all right, Mr Morris," cried Glyn confidently; "we must take the elephant now. Singh and I have ridden on elephants hundreds of times, though we have never acted the parts of mahouts.—There, go on, Mr What's-your-name, and Singh here will make him carry us back right to where you wish."

There was no further opposition. In fact, it would have been a bold man who would have dared to offer any; but the proprietor came as close as he thought prudent, panting hard, as the huge beast swept along in its stately stride.

"I beg your pardons, young gents—beg your pardons! Honour bright, sirs, I didn't know. Oh, thank you; thank you kindly. You are saving me a hundred pounds at least, and if you'd like a nice silver watch apiece, or a monkey, or a parrot, only say the word, and you shall have the pick of the collection. And look here, gentlemen, I'll give you both perpetual passes to my show."

"Thank you! thank you!" Glyn shouted back. "We will come and see it;" while Singh sat as statuesque as a native mahout, and an imaginative Anglo-Indian would have forgotten his Eton costume and pictured him in white cotton and muslin turban; while, as they neared the great elm-trees where the gap showed grimly in the fence and the boughs hung low, the amateur driver uttered a warning cry in Hindustani, with the result that his great steed threw up its trunk, twined it round a pendent branch that was in their way, snapped it off, and trampled it under foot.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

"SALAAM, MAHARAJAH!"

The menagerie proprietor hurriedly led the way straight across the cricket-field; for, full of excitement, he was eager to get right away with the depredating animal before the owner of the damaged fence and orchard came upon the scene.

"I can talk to him better when I get on my own ground," he said to himself; and, making straight for the gap in the Doctor's hedge, the elephant, in obedience to word after word from his mahout, followed with long, swinging strides.

There was a crowd outside the hedge in the road, and they would have been across the field long before; but, in obedience to an order from the Doctor, Wrench was on guard and kept them back. His rather difficult task ceased as the elephant drew near, for the crowd scattered to avoid the monster, and the Doctor's man gave way too, the only difference being that the little mob drew away outside the hedge while the man made way in; for, seeing who were mounted on the great animal's neck, he ran towards the house to meet the Doctor, who, followed by the other masters, was now coming toward the gap with a small opera-glass in his hand.

"Here, Joseph," he cried breathlessly, "am I right? Are those two of my pupils?"

"Yes, sir; a-riding striddling on the elephant's neck."

"Dangerous! Madness! So undignified too! What will people think? Run and tell them to get off directly and come to me."

The man hurriedly retraced his steps; but before he could reach the gap in the hedge the elephant strode through and out into the road, and the Doctor and his aides hurried back into the house to reach one of the front windows just as, headed by the proprietor and followed by a crowd, the elephant strode by, the two boys taking off their caps to salute those at the window.

The Doctor turned with a look of blank amazement upon his countenance, to stare for a few moments at the classical and French masters, who had followed him in.

"Gentlemen," he exclaimed angrily, "did you ever see such extraordinary behaviour in your lives? Oh, this must be stopped!"

But it was not stopped, for the elephant was striding away along the main street of the town, with a crowd regathering as they saw that the powerful monster seemed to be well under control; while the boys, now thoroughly enjoying their exciting ride, needed no persuasion from Ramball to keep their places and take their mount right up to the show-field, where several of the yellow vans were already in place, their drivers having commenced the formation of the oblong square which was to form the show.

Here, shortly afterwards, the elephant stopped of its own volition close to a great iron picket which was being driven into the soft earth, and by which a truss of hay had been placed ready for its refection.

Here, as the elephant stood still, it paid no heed to a couple of Ramball's men, who in obedience to their master's orders set to work to fasten a strong chain to the monster's leg and attach it to the iron picket.

For, evidently satisfied with its fruity lunch, and calmed down from the excitement brought on by the accident, possibly too from a certain feeling of satisfaction at hearing the native tongue of some old mahout ringing in its great ears, the huge beast now began to take matters according to its old routine. It commenced by gathering up portions of the hay, which it loosened with its trunk, sniffing at it audibly, and then beginning to scatter it about, the boys making no attempt to quit their lofty perch.

"Here, one of you, bring a bucket of water," cried Ramball. "He ain't hungry now. Don't let him waste that hay. Have you fastened the chain?"

Without waiting for the men to answer, the menagerie proprietor examined the great fetters himself.

"Look sharp," he shouted; "quick with that water before he spoils all the hay."

One man had hurried off to the pump with a couple of empty buckets, while the others seized upon the truss which the elephant was disturbing, but only to drop it directly, for the captive just lightly waved its trunk right and left, and the men were sent flying in different directions.

Phoompf snorted the tyrant, and immediately went on picking up and scattering the hay all around it, thickly covering the grass.

"Well, I suppose we had better get down now, hadn't we?" cried Glyn.

"Yes, sir—no, sir. Just wait a little bit, please," cried Ramball. "You're a-keeping of him quiet; only I don't want this 'ere to be made a free gratus exhibition for everybody to see. It's a cutting off my profits. Hi, there, some of you! why don't you shut them gates?" he shouted to certain of his men who were driving in the latter half of the line of yellow vans.

"Can't get the rest in if we do, sir," came back.

"No, of course they can't," grunted their master, looking up at the two lads. "Things is going awkward to-day, and no mistake.—Oh, here comes the water," he continued, speaking now to Singh. "I dare say that will cool him down. Just say a word to him, sir, and tell him to drink."

"Tell the men to put the buckets down before him," replied Singh; and as the water-bearer drew near the elephant evidently scented the refreshing fluid, and uttered a sonorous snort.

Directly after, as the man nervously set down the brimming buckets, anxiously watching the waving trunk the while, and leaping away as he saw it coming towards him, the tip of the great hose-like organ was thrust into the first vessel, there was a low sound of suction as many quarts were drawn up, and then the end was curled under, thrust right back into the huge creature's mouth, and then there was a loud squirting sound like a fire-engine beginning to play to put out the animal's burning thirst.

Back went the trunk into the bucket again, the curving inward followed for a second discharge, there was repetition, till in a very brief space the first bucket was empty, and then, with a disdainful swing of the trunk, the vessel was sent flying, and the emptying of the second commenced, to be ended by the satiated beast picking it up to hold it on high as if to drain out the last drops, and then begin to swing it to and fro as if to hurl it at its master.

"Hah-h-h-h-ah!" cried Singh, and the great creature ceased swinging the bucket to and fro, and dropped it on the hay.

"Come, Singh, we have had enough of this," cried Glyn impatiently. "Let's get back, or we shall be having the Doctor sending to see what has become of us."

"Don't you be afraid about that, young gentlemen," cried Ramball. "I'll speak up for you both."

"Thank you," said Glyn drily; "but you've done with us now."

"Done with you, young gentlemen! I only wish you'd stop and join my troupe. I'll make it right and pleasant for you, and be glad too. Pay you better, too, than any one else would when you leave school. Why, bless your heart, you—the dark one I'm talking to—if you like to come I'll spend any amount up to a hundred pounds for getting you a thorough Indian corstume all muslin and gold, and a turban with jewels in it— imitations, of course, it wouldn't run to real, but the best as is to be had—with a plume of feathers too, ready for you to ride in procession same as you did to-day. What do you say?"

"Yes, Singh," cried Glyn laughing, as he sat close behind his companion, and catching him by the shoulders he began to shake him to and fro. "There's an offer for you. What do you say?"

"I am going to get down," said Singh with a haughty curve to his lip. "Well, I won't tell him I'm not an English boy." Then sharply resuming his native tongue, he uttered an order which made the great beast kneel down in the hay with its trunk stretched straight out before it, and raising its ears a little, ready for its two riders to climb down forwards and spring off.

"Ha!" cried Singh, as he approached close to the elephant and planted his right foot upon the upper portion of its trunk. "I should rather like to have you," he said, speaking softly, so that his words only reached his companion's ear. "You are the first in England to show me that you know what I am."

"But you can't have him, Singh," said Glyn laughing. "No more elephants till we get back to Dour, and that won't be for years to come."

"No," said the boy sadly; "that will not be for years to come.—Huh!" he cried to the elephant, as he removed his foot and drew back. "You're a fine old beast after all."

The monster rose at his command, and stood blinking at him and swinging his trunk to and fro.

"Mind, sir!" shouted Ramball, who had been looking on anxiously. "Don't you trust him. He's brewing mischief. He always is when he looks quiet like that; and the way he can knock you over with that trunk—my word!"

"Oh, he's not going to knock me over with his trunk," said Singh, smiling; and, uttering a few words in Hindustani, he stood close up to the elephant and reached one hand up to its great ear and laid the other upon its trunk.

"Salaam, Maharajah!" he cried, and the animal threw up its head, curled up its trunk, and trumpeted loudly, before going down upon its knees before the lad.

"Good! Up again!" cried Singh in Hindustani, and added a few more words, the result of which was that the monster stood calmly by its great picket-peg, making its chain jingle as it began slowly swaying its head from side to side again.

"Well done, sir!" cried Ramball. "Thank you, sir. You'll shake hands with me, won't you?"

"Oh yes," said Singh quietly; "I'll shake hands," and he extended his own.

"You are a gentleman and no mistake," cried the man. "I say, think that offer of mine over. I'll make it worth your while. I will, honour bright!"

Singh shook his head gravely, and there was a mocking smile upon his lip.

"No, no, thank you," he said. "I am going back to school, and some day back to India; but I should like to come and see you and the elephant again."

"Of course you would, sir, and come you shall," cried Ramball. "Perpetual passes! You don't want no pass. Just you show your face here, both of you, whenever you like, and bring as many of your schoolmates with you too, and you will be as welcome as the flowers of May. Look here, young gentlemen, I am going to keep the show open here for three days, and then we go off to my farm three miles out of the town to lay up for a bit of rest and do repairs, and get the animals into condition, before we take the road again. You come and see me there, and pick out what you'd like to have, monkeys or parrots, as I said. I don't offer you anything big, because I don't suppose you could keep it at school; but I have got some of the amusingest little monkeys you ever see, and a parrot as can talk—when he likes, mind you," continued the man, laying a fat finger against his nose, "and that ain't always. But when he is in the temper for it he can say anything, and you wouldn't know but what it was a human being.—Going, gentlemen?"

"Yes, we are going now," said Singh.

"Yes, it's time we were off," said Glyn; "but I say, Mr Ramball, what about that rifle?"

"Rifle? Oh, you mean my gun?"

"Yes," said Glyn. "You don't mean to shoot that grand beast?"

"Shoot him, sir? Not me. It put me in such a temper and made me say that. But, young gentlemen, do think over what I said. Why, if you joined my troupe, I'm blessed if I wouldn't buy another as big as him, and then you'd have a elephant apiece."



CHAPTER EIGHT.

DOCTOR BEWLEY CHANGES SIDES.

As the two lads reached the main street, chatting over their adventure, something occurred which made Glyn turn his head sharply, and as he did so a small boy shouted, "Hooray!"

It was the little spark applied to the touch-hole of a cannon, and a loud roar followed.

"Here, let's go back," cried Singh. "The Rajah's broken loose again."

"No, no," cried Glyn. "They are shouting at us."

"What for? What have we done?"

"I suppose it's because we rode the elephant. Here, come along; let's turn down here and get round by the fields."

The young Indian generally gave way to his English friend; and, obeying directly, they hurried down the first turning, but in vain. A crowd of men and boys were after them, cheering loudly, and this crowd was snowball-like in the way in which the farther it rolled the more it grew. So that in spite of all their efforts they were literally hunted right up to the Doctor's gates, where they arrived hot and breathless to find a larger crowd than before which had gathered to satisfy themselves with the rather empty view of the damaged hedge, the big footmarks, and a wheelwright and some of Ramball's men getting the great bottomless elephant-van into condition for dragging to the show-field.

As soon as the two boys came in sight there was a rush made for them, and amidst deafening cheering and vain efforts to hoist them shoulder-high and carry them into the playground, they managed to reach this resort at last, and join their schoolfellows in keeping out the excited mob, some of whom, the youngest of course, began to decorate the brick wall with their persons like so many living statues. And then to the two lads' disgust, the whole school, with the exception of Slegge, and half-a-dozen of his party who wanted to join in the ovation but did not dare in the presence of their tyrant, began to cheer them as loudly as the boys without. Several of the younger juniors began to idolise them in a very juvenile way by hanging on to them, slapping their backs, and shaking hands.

Altogether it was a strange mingling of the pleasant and unpleasant, the former predominating with Singh, who for the first time since he had joined the school found himself thoroughly liked.

Slegge and his following stood aloof, the latter listening to the former's sneering remarks, some of which reached Glyn and made him feel hot; while just in the midst of the loudest cheering, Wrench the man-servant made his appearance, followed by a big tom-cat which passed most of its time in the pantry rubbing its head against Wrench's legs while he was cleaning the plate or washing tea-cups, probably in gratitude for past favours. When it was a kitten some young Plymborough roughs had hurled it into the little river, and were making of it what they termed a "cockshy," pelting it with stones, fortunately ineffectually, and trying to beat it under water, when the Doctor's footman, who was crossing the bridge, saw what was going on and made an unexpected charge upon the young ruffians, effectually scattering them. One tripped and fell headlong into the river, out of which he crawled as thoroughly wet as the unhappy little kitten, which Wrench received as it swam ashore, rolled up in his handkerchief and took home to his pantry, where it grew rapidly, waxed fat, and was never so happy as when it could find a chance to rub its head against its master.

Hard on Wrench's heels came also one Sam Grigg, page-boy, who on particular occasions wore a livery jacket with three rows of plated pill-like buttons, but who was now in the fatigue-dress of rolled-up shirt sleeves and a very dirty apron, while his left-hand was occupied by a boot, the right by a blacking-brush, which seemed to have been applied several times to an itching nose, his chin, and one side of his face, rather accounting for the plural nickname given him by the boys of "Day & Martin."

These had come out to join in the ovation, Wrench adding several proud encomiums, one of which was, "My eyes, gentlemen! You did do it fine!"

The Doctor's footman had hardly uttered these words when there was the loud ringing of a bell.

"The Doctor!" he ejaculated, and he hurried into the house, his exit from the playground being followed by a fresh burst of cheering and a peculiar triumphant dance on the part of the page, accompanied by the waving of boot and blacking-brush, till, in his disgust, Slegge made a rush at him from behind, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and ran him rapidly to the boot-house, sent him flying in with a savage kick, and banged the door after him.

"A blackguard!" he cried haughtily. "That's why our boots are not half cleaned. How dare he! The dirty, contemptible scrub! The Doctor ought to be told of this."

Slegge stood sniffing and snorting and glaring round fiercely at the worshippers of the two heroes of the hour, who stood flushed and worried, ready to beat a retreat to the dormitory.

But an end was put to their reception in a very unexpected way, for Wrench suddenly made his appearance, looking very solemn as he hurried off to the two lads with, "The Doctor wants to see you both, sirs, directly, in the study."

Slegge's face lit up with a malicious grin.

"Haw, haw!" he laughed. "Three cheers, boys! The Doctor wants to see them both in his study. Impositions! Hooray! Cheer, you little beggars! Why don't you cheer?"

The adjuration fell flat, for not a boy uttered a sound, save one who exclaimed, "Oh, what a shame!" and then went off to the cricket-field, trying hard, poor little fellow! to suppress the natural desire to cry out and sob, for Slegge had "fetched him," as he termed it, a sounding slap upon the cheek, which echoed in the silence and cut the boy's lips against a sharp white tooth.

"What's the Doctor want?" whispered Singh, as they followed the footman into the house.

"A wigging, I'm afraid, gentlemen," said the man who heard his words. "But don't you mind. You write out your lines and do your imposition like men. It was fine! What you did this morning has made every one think no end of you, and it will never be forgotten so long as this 'ere's a school."

A tap of the knuckles, which sounded hollow and strange, for they had reached the study-door.

"Come in!" in the Doctor's deepest and most severe tones, and the next moment the two boys were standing separated from their preceptor by the large study-table, while he sat back in his revolving chair with his finger-tips joined, frowning at them severely from beneath his up-pushed gold-rimmed spectacles.

There was silence for quite a minute, and it was not the Doctor who spoke first, but Glyn, who, under the impression that the Doctor was deep in thought and had forgotten their presence, ventured to say, "I beg your pardon, sir; you sent for us," and put an end to the mental debate as to the form in which the subject should be approached.

"Yes, sir," said the Doctor sternly. "I have sent for you both, as it is better that any lapse from the strict rules of my establishment should be dealt with immediately; not that I wish to be too severe, for you are both new pupils and strange to the regulations of a high-class school in England. You gather, of course, that I am alluding to your very undignified conduct in the sight of all your fellow-pupils."

"Yes, sir," said Glyn; "about our riding the elephant?"

"Of course. It was disgraceful. You, to whom I should have looked for the conduct and demeanour of a gentleman, being the son of an eminent officer in the army, behaving like some little common street-boy, and leading your fellow-pupil, in whom from his ignorance of English customs and etiquette such a lapse might be excused. It was only the other day that your father the Colonel, sir, told me that you would set an example to the young Prince, and here I find you directly snatching at the opportunity to behave as you have done."

"I beg your pardon, sir," cried Glyn, in a voice full of protest, "it was—"

"Silence, sir!—Yes, what is it?" cried the Doctor angrily, for there was a quick tap at the door, and the footman appeared. "Have I not told you, sir, that when I am engaged like this I am not to be interrupted?— Eh? Who?"

"That showman, sir, wants to see you, sir."

"That showman?" cried the Doctor angrily. "What showman? What about?"

"Come about the damages, sir; the broken fences. He said he wouldn't keep you a moment, sir, if you would see him."

"Oh," said the Doctor, cooling down. "Yes, the damages, the torn-up hedge and the broken fence. A most annoying affair. You can sit down, gentlemen, while I dismiss this man.—Where is he, Wrench?"

"In the hall, sir; on the mat."

"Ho!" said the Doctor, rising; and he marched slowly out, leaving the boys looking at one another and then at the busts of the great scholars of Greece and Rome ranged at intervals upon the cornices of the bookcases that covered the study-walls.

Neither felt disposed to speak, for an inner door stood ajar, and from the other side came the faintly heard scratching noise of a pen.

And so in silence some ten minutes or so passed before the Doctor came in, looking very different of aspect and ready to sign to the boys to sit down again as they rose at his entrance.

"A most unpleasant business, young gentlemen," he began, as he seated himself; and sinking back he removed his spectacles, folded them, and used them to tap his knee; "but in justice to you I must hasten to say that this man's coming has given a very different complexion to the affair. A very strange, uncultured personage, but most straightforward and honest. I like the way in which he has offered to bear all the expense of repairing the fences. He speaks most highly of your gallantry—er—er—er—pluck, he called it—most objectionable phrase!— in dealing with this savage beast. H'm, yes, what did he say—tackling it. But I was not aware that you had engaged in roping or harnessing the animal. He, however, talked of your both managing the monster wonderfully, and—er—it had never occurred to me before that you had both had some experience of elephants in India."

"Oh yes, sir," cried Glyn eagerly. "Singh has elephants of his own, and we often used to go out together through the forest upon one as big as that."

"Ha! Very interesting," cried the Doctor. "I was under the impression that your proceedings this morning were—that is—in fact, that you both did it just for the sake of a ride."

"Oh no, sir," cried Glyn. "The men were all afraid of the elephant, and Singh spoke to it in Hindustani, and—"

"Yes, yes, exactly," said the Doctor, smiling. "It was very brave, and—really, I cannot conceal the fact that I felt alarmed myself when the great furious beast came charging across the grounds. Yes, he speaks highly in praise of your conduct, and really, young gentlemen, I—I must apologise for having spoken to you as I did while suffering from a misunderstanding. Er—hum!" continued the Doctor didactically, and he rose slowly to stand waving the gold spectacles through the air, "it is the duty of every gentleman when he finds that he is in the wrong to acknowledge the fact with dignity and good grace. My dear young pupils, I hope I have properly expressed myself towards you both; and let me add that this will be a lesson to us, to me, against speaking in undue haste, and to you both as—er—

"Well, gentlemen," he continued with a smile, "I don't think I need detain you longer from your studies—I mean—er—from your pleasurable pursuits, as this is a holiday, and we will consider the incident as closed."

Smiling benignantly, the Doctor marched slowly round the end of the table again, shook hands warmly with both his pupils, and then showed them to the door.

"Stop! By the way, a little idea has occurred to me. This is a day of relaxation. Mr Singh—er—it is an understood thing, as you know, that your title is to be in abeyance while you are my pupil; for, as I explained to your guardian, Colonel Severn, it would be better that there should be no invidious distinctions during your scholastic career—I should be glad if you and your friend the Colonel's son would dine with me this evening. No dinner-party, but just to meet your three preceptors and a Mr—dear me, what was his name? Really, gentlemen, I am so deeply immersed in my studies that names escape me in a most provoking manner. A gentleman resident in the town here—a Sanskrit scholar, and friend of Mr Morris. Dear me! What was his name? There was something familiar about it, and I made a mental note, memoria technica, to be sure, yes—what was it? I remember the word perfectly now. 'Beer.' Dear me, how strange! And it doesn't help me a bit. Really, gentlemen, I am afraid this memoria technica is a mistake. How, by any possibility could the name of the ordinary beverage of the working classes have anything to do with the professor's name? Professor Beer—Professor Ale—Professor Porter—Stout? Dear me, how strange! Ah, of course—the great brewers, Barclay—Professor Barclay! At half-past six."

"Thank you, sir. We will come," said Singh, smiling.

"Precisely," said the Doctor, and he stood smiling in the doorway as the boys passed out.

They were at the end of the hall passage when the door closed, and Wrench shot out from somewhere like a Jack from its box.

"Aren't caught it very bad, gentlemen, have you?" he cried eagerly.

"Oh no, Wrench," said Glyn, smiling.

"Thought not, sir, for the Doctor had got a twinkle in his eye when he'd done with the wild-beast man. It would have been hard if you'd caught it after what you did. Pst! There's the study-bell." And the man hurried away, leaving the culprits to stroll out together into the playground, where they found fully half the boys waiting to hear the result of their interview with the Doctor, Slegge and his courtiers hurrying up first.

"Well, beast-tamers," he cried sneeringly, "how many lines of Latin have you got to do?" And he grinned offensively at them both.

"When?" said Glyn coolly.

"When? Why, now, at once."

"We haven't got any lines of Latin to do," said Singh quietly. "To-day is a holiday."

"For us," cried Slegge; "but I know the Doctor. You have both got a pretty stiff dose to do, my fine fellows, and I wish you joy."

"Thank you," said Glyn; "but you are all in the wrong."

"Wrong? Then what did the Doctor say to you?"

"Oh," said Glyn, in a most imperturbable manner, fighting hard the while, though, to keep his countenance as he realised the strength of the shot he was about to send at his malicious persecutor, "he asked Singh and me to come and meet the masters and dine with him to-night."



CHAPTER NINE.

THE NEW PROFESSOR.

"Let 'em go," snarled Slegge to his courtiers. "It's only another way of getting a hard lesson. I know what the Doctor's dinner-parties are. Let the stuck-up young brutes go. But if I wasn't about to leave the blessed old school I would jolly soon let the Doctor know that this sort of thing won't do. The old humbug told me once that fairplay was a jewel. I don't call it fairplay to be currying favour with a new boy because he's an Indian prince. Indian prince, indeed! Indian bear— cub; that's what I call him, with his leader, currying favour like that! Ha, ha! Ho, ho! Haw, haw!"

This was a melodramatic laugh of the most sarcastic description, prefatory to the letting off of a very ponderous joke. "Currying! Indian curry! That's what he was brought up on. Curry and rice instead of pap. Look at the colour of his skin. But only wait a bit," continued Slegge darkly. "Just wait till the right time comes, and I'll let you all see."

But the Doctor's dinner-party was not quite so ponderous and learned as usual, for the incidents of the day formed the main topic of conversation. The Doctor was in high good-humour, and naturally felt rather proud of his pupils. They had distinguished themselves, and in so doing had distinguished him and his school, and the consequence was that the masters readily took up the subject and were most warm and friendly to the two lads, the other guest in particular, Professor Barclay, as Morris took care that he should be called, much to the annoyance of the classical master, who looked at the new-comer, Morris's friend, rather suspiciously, regarding him as one likely to poach upon his preserves.

During the dinner, the Professor had much to say about Sanskrit, military colleges, and India, and was very attentive to Singh and Glyn, but found the boys quiet and retiring in the extreme.

All, however, seemed to be enjoying themselves but Mr Rampson, who grew more uneasy and suspicious over the coffee, pricking up his ears as he bent over his cup and kept on stirring it, but without drinking, while the Doctor and the Professor were talking together as if discussing some subject in a low tone.

The fact must be recorded against the classical teacher that he was eavesdropping, ungentlemanly as it may sound; but the only thing that reached his ears was the conclusion of the conversation, when the Doctor said, raising his voice slightly, "Certainly, Mr Barclay, I shall give every attention to your testimonials; but my staff of preceptors is complete, and I have always considered Greek and Latin sufficient for my pupils, of course with the modern languages thrown in."

The Professor thanked the Doctor effusively, and in the course of the evening contrived to fix himself like a burr upon Singh, while Mr Rampson made an effort and secured Glyn to himself, jealously taking care that the stranger guest and friend, it seemed, of Morris should not monopolise both the boys.

"It's all a plot," said Rampson to himself—"all a scheme to oust me, and I'll never forgive Morris so long as I live.—I say," he said aloud, "that Mr Barclay seems to have a deal to say to your friend the Prince. Do you know what they are talking about?"

"India, and Sanskrit, and catching elephants," replied Glyn. "Has he been out in India?"

"Oh, don't ask me," said Rampson with asperity; then correcting himself quickly, and with a rather ghastly smile, "I say, you two did distinguish yourselves to-day."

"Oh, did we, sir?" said Glyn, who looked rather tired and bored. "Please don't say more about it."

"Oh no, of course not, if you don't want to hear it. But your friend doesn't seem to mind. Why, the Professor's taking him out into the garden, and the Prince is talking to him as hard as ever he can. Yes, he doesn't seem to mind."

"No," replied Glyn, as he saw Singh, in obedience to a gesture from his new acquaintance, sit down upon one of the garden-seats, and for the next quarter of an hour the boy was talking in quite an animated way, and evidently answering questions put to him by the Professor.

The evening soon glided away, and the boys gladly thanked their host and retired to their own room, utterly wearied out by the events of the day.

As a rule, they lay for some time carrying on conversation and discussing the next day's work; but that night very little was said, and the only thing worth recording was a few sentences that were spoken and responded to by Singh in the midst of yawns.

"Talking about India and Sanskrit?" said Glyn.

"Oh yes; he asked me all sorts of questions about Dour, and he asked me if I had ever seen Sanskrit letters."

"Well?"

"And I told him I had, and he shook his head and asked me where I had seen them."

"Well, what did you say?"

"That I had got some precious stones in my box with some Sanskrit letters cut in."

"Why, you never were so stupid as to tell him about that belt?"

"I don't know that there's anything stupid in it," replied Singh sleepily. "I didn't want him to think I was so ignorant as not to know about a language that your father can read as easily as English, and has talked to us about scores of times. Why, of course, I did."

"Well, of all the old Dummkopfs I ever knew, you are the stupidest. Didn't I tell you that—" Snore.

"Why, if he isn't asleep!"

Almost the next moment Glyn was in the same state.



CHAPTER TEN.

"ENGLISH GENTLEMEN DON'T FIGHT LIKE THAT."

The next morning the men sent by Ramball, the proprietor of the world-famed menagerie, were busy at work first thing repairing hedge and fence; and everything was so well done, and such prompt payment made for the estimated damages to the neighbouring orchard, that when a petition-like appeal for patronage was made by Ramball, the owner of the orchard attended with wife, family, and friends; and the Doctor gave permission to the whole school to be present, being moved also, as he told the lads in a brief address, to go himself with the masters and support a very worthy enterprise for the diffusion of natural history throughout the country. The visits were paid to the great yellow-walled prison, and Ramball, in his best blue coat, the one with the basket-work treble-gilt buttons, attended on the Doctor himself to explain the peculiarities of the beasts and give their history in his own fashion.

This was peculiar, and did not in any way resemble a zoological lecture. Still, it was an improvement upon the wild-beast showman of the old-fashioned fairs, and he did not inform his listeners that the tiger was eight feet six inches long from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail, and exactly eight feet four inches long from the tip of his tail to the end of his nose. Neither did he impart knowledge, like another of his craft, and tell people that the boa-constrictor was so-called because he constructed such pleasing images with his serpentine form. But he did inform them that the monstrous reptile he possessed—one which, by the way, was only nine feet long—was always furnished in the cold weather with sawdust into which he could burrow, on account of the peculiarity always practised by creatures of its kind of swallowing its own blankets; and he did deliver an eulogy on his big black bear, and encourage the young gentlemen to furnish it with buns; but he did not confess to the fact that it was his most profitable animal, from the circumstance of his letting it out on hire for so many months in the year to a hairdresser in Bloomsbury, who used, according to his advertisements, to kill it regularly once a week and exhibit it in butcherly fashion hung up and spread open outside his shop, so that passers-by might see its tremendous state of fatness: "Another fat bear killed this morning."

It was in the days when the British public were intense believers in bear's grease as the producer of hair, and no one troubled himself or herself to investigate the precise configuration of the exhibited animal and compare it when hung up, decapitated, and shorn of its feet, with the ordinary well-fatted domestic pig, albeit the illusion was kept up by its being possible to see through the gratings outside the shop-window Ramball's black bear still "all alive-o," parading and snuffling up and down in the area.

Glyn and Singh were there, of course, and responded to Ramball's almost obsequious advances with good-humoured tolerance; but while he was with the Doctor the boys took notes together, laughing with a good deal of contempt at the poor miserable specimens—the tiger and two leopards— compared with those they had seen in their native beauty and grace of outline in the forests of Dour.

They met one friend there, though, chained by a leg to the massive iron peg, as he stood swinging his great head from side to side, and stretching out his enormous trunk for the contributions supplied by the boys.

They were welcomed most effusively by the great beast, which recognised them at once, and it was only by its attention being taken up by its keeper, the man who had driven the bottomless van, that the boys got away without being followed by their new friend, which had manifested a disposition to drag the peg out of the ground and follow them like a dog.

It was while the Doctor was delivering an impromptu disquisition upon the peculiarities of the one-horned rhinoceros and the slight resemblance given by the folds of its monstrous hide to the shell of a turtle, that Ramball followed the two boys and made signs to them to come to the other end of the great van-walled booth, when he asked them if they had considered his proposition.

"I never made such an offer before in my life, young gents. It's a good 'un. Don't you let it slide."

But the boys were saved the pain of telling the man that it was quite out of the question by the coming up of the guest at the Doctor's dinner, Professor Barclay, who was effusively civil to Glyn, and fastened himself upon Singh to talk of Indian matters and language till the visit came to an end.

Just before leaving, Ramball came up to them again, but he had to speak in the presence of the Doctor.

"I only wanted to ask the young gents, sir," he said, "if they had made their choice of the two little somethings to keep in remembrance of what they did over the elephant."

"Two little somethings?" said the Doctor loftily. "I am quite sure, sir, that my pupils do not wish to take any two little somethings as a gift from you."

"No, no, sir, not what you call gifts; but just a couple of little trifles as I asked them to pick out."

"Oh, no, no," cried the Doctor. "It is not necessary, my man, and we have no room for such things in my establishment."

"Ah, excuse me, sir," said the man eagerly; "you are thinking I mean something big and awkward; but a nice little monkey, sir, or a bird?"

"Monkeys don't want monkeys," said Slegge, in a whisper to Burney, just loud enough for Glyn to hear, and making him turn sharply upon the speaker.

"Have a baboon, Severn," said Slegge maliciously, for he met the boy's flashing eyes.

"What for?" said Glyn coolly.

"Oh, I don't know," continued Slegge, after a glance at the boys around, who burst into a low series of titters. "I would if I were you. There's a nice brotherly look about that one in the cage, and he hasn't got a tail."

"Mr Severn," said the Doctor, "come here. I want you to tell Mr Ramball that you do not need any recompense for the services you have performed. Mr Singh has already spoken."

"Yes, sir, I'll come," replied the boy quickly, and he did as requested, fully conscious the while that Slegge was saying something disparaging to the nearest boys, and that the Professor had moved up behind Singh and was talking to him again.

"Do you like this Professor Barclay?" said Glyn as they were walking back towards the school side by side.

"Oh, I don't know. He's very pleasant to talk to, of course, for he knows so much about Indian things."

"Oh," said Glyn thoughtfully, for his companion's words sounded reasonable.

"But what was that fellow saying to you?" asked Singh. "He was grinning at you about something. Oh, I should like to do something to him. That nasty look of his always makes me feel hot."

"He wants to get up a quarrel," replied Glyn.

"Well, let him, and the sooner the better. He's always insulting me."

"Then let's insult him," said Glyn.

"Yes," cried Singh eagerly. "What shall we do? Tell him we won't accept a baboon because one's enough in the school?"

"No; treat him with contempt," said Glyn coldly. "We are not going to be dragged into a fight so as to give him a chance to play the bully and knock us about."

"But let's knock him about," cried Singh, "and show him that we can bully too."

"Won't do," said Glyn slowly. "He's too big and strong."

"Yes, he's big and strong; but we shall be two to one."

"Ah, you have a lot to learn, Singhy. English gentlemen don't fight like that."



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE CUTTING OF THE COCK'S COMB.

There was a smart brush at the school a few days later, which resulted in the cutting of Slegge's comb. The Doctor was seated at his study-table, with the open French window letting in the fresh morning breeze and giving him a view, when he raised his eyes from his book, right across the cricket-field to the clump of elms, when there was a tap at the door, responded to by the customary "Come in!" and Mr Rampson entered.

"Ah, good-morning, Mr Rampson," said the Doctor suavely.

"Good-morning, sir. Could you give me a few minutes?"

"Certainly, Mr Rampson," replied the Doctor, sitting back. "Have you something to report?"

"Well, no, sir, not exactly, but—er, but er—I er—thought I should like to ask you if I had given you satisfaction in connection with my pupils."

"Yes, Mr Rampson," said the Doctor, raising his eyebrows; "but why—oh, I see, you want to speak to me and tell me that you have had a more lucrative offer."

"Oh no, sir; I am quite satisfied here, where I have been so long, but—"

"Well, Mr Rampson, what is it? You wish me to increase your stipend?"

"No, sir, I do not; but I don't want to suddenly find myself supplanted by another master through the machinations of a brother-teacher."

"Don't speak angrily, Mr Rampson. Pray, who has been trying to supplant you?"

"Well, sir, I am a blunt man, and I have come to speak out. I am afraid that Morris—why, I know not—has been introducing this Professor Barclay to you to try to get him in my post."

"Indeed, Mr Rampson!" said the Doctor, with a smile. "Well, then, let me set you at your ease at once. Morris did not introduce this gentleman, for he came to me with an introduction from one of the professors at Addiscombe, a gentleman I do not know from Adam. I find that he has been for a few months a resident in the town here, where he is carrying on some study. Morris seems to know him a little, and tells me that he has visited him two or three times at his apartments. I questioned him as to who the man was, and his antecedents, which seemed to be satisfactory. I did so after his presenting his letter of introduction and some testimonials. I thought that it would be only civil to ask him to dinner and explain to him that it was perfectly hopeless for him to expect anything from me; and, in short, one feels a little sympathetic towards a cultivated gentleman who is seeking to obtain an appointment in a none-too-well-paid profession. So now you see, my dear Mr Rampson, that you have not the slightest cause for uneasiness."

"Dr Bewley," cried Rampson excitedly, "you don't know how you have relieved my mind!"

"I am very glad, Rampson; and let me take this opportunity of telling you that—Bless my heart! what is the meaning of this?"

"Of what, sir?" cried Rampson, startled by the speaker's earnestness.

"Look over yonder beyond the elms. Scandalous! Disgraceful! And after all that I have said! I will not have it, Rampson."

"But, sir, I—"

"Don't you see that there's a fight going on? Just as if it were a common school. Come with me at once."

The Doctor set aside his stately march and hurried out through the open window, bare-headed, and closely followed by his assistant.

There, through the elms and close up to the grey park-fence beyond, the whole school seemed to have assembled, and plainly enough at intervals there was the quick movement of two contending figures, while the clustering boys around heaved and swayed as they watched the encounter, quite forgetful in their excitement of the possibility of their being seen from the house.

Dr Bewley did not run, but went nearer to it than he had been since he wrote DD at the end of his name and gave up cricket; while before they were half-way across the cricket-field Mr Rampson was emitting puffs suggesting that the motive-power by which he moved was connected with a modern utilisation of steam.

So intent was the little scholastic crowd beyond the row of tree-trunks which with the park-palings beyond formed the arena, that not a head was turned to see the approach of the masters and give the alarm. The consequence was that the latter were getting close up and able to make out that a fierce fight was going on between Slegge and Glyn Severn, the former seconded by Burney, the latter by the young Prince.

There was no shouting, no sound of egging on by the juvenile spectators, only an intense silence, punctuated by a hoarse panting sound, the trampling of feet, and the pat, pat, of blows.

The last of these was a heavy one, delivered right from the shoulder with all his remaining force—for the boy was pretty well exhausted—by Glyn Severn; and it was just as the Doctor was filling his capacious chest with the breath necessary after his hurried advance to deliver a stern command to cease fighting. But before he uttered a word his biggest pupil came staggering back towards the ring of boys on the Doctor's side, and as they hurriedly gave way down came Slegge flat upon his back at the fresh-comer's feet.

After delivering his final blow, Glyn Severn nearly followed his impulse, and had hard work to check himself from falling flat upon his adversary. As it was, he dropped only upon one knee, rose again painfully, and stood with bruised and bleeding face gazing blankly at his stern preceptor, who now thundered out in his deepest tones, "What is the meaning of this?"

At the sight of the Doctor a thrill ran through the little throng; and, moved as by one impulse, there was the suggestion of a rush for safety. But the thunderous tones of the Doctor's voice seemed to freeze every young abettor in his steps.

"Do you hear me, sirs?" cried the Doctor again. "What is the meaning of this?"

It was the smallest boy of the school who replied, in a shrill voice full of excitement, conveying the very plain truth:

"Fight, sir. Tom Slegge and one of the new boys."

"Silence!" thundered the Doctor. "You know my rules, and that I have forbidden fighting. Here, somebody, one of the high form boys—you, Burney, let me hear what you have to say. Speak out, sir. Ah, you have been seconder, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir," faltered the lad, whose hands showed unpleasant traces of what he had been doing.

"Ah," continued the Doctor.—"Mr Rampson, see that not a boy dares to move.—Now, Burney, let me hear the whole truth of this from beginning to end. No suppression, sir, from favour or fear. I want the straightforward truth. Who began this disgraceful business?—Stop! Mr Rampson, here. Is that boy Slegge much hurt?"

"A bit stunned, sir, and stupid with his injuries, but he's all right, sir; he's coming round," and in proof thereof Slegge, with the assistance of the master's hands, struggled to his feet, and stood shaking his head as if he felt a wasp in his ear, and then promptly sat down again.

"Now, Burney," cried the Doctor, "speak out. Who began this?"

The boy addressed glanced at the Doctor and then at Slegge, while his lips parted; but he uttered no sound.

"Do you hear me, sir?" roared the Doctor.

"Big Tom Slegge, sir," came from the shrill little fellow who had before spoken.

The Doctor frowningly held up one big white finger at the little speaker, who shrank back amongst his fellows.

"I saw that look of yours, Burney," said the Doctor sternly, "and I read its meaning, sir. It seemed to appeal to your older schoolfellow, one of the principals in this disgraceful encounter, asking him if you might speak out. I'll answer for him. Yes, sir; and beware lest you, as a gentleman's son, lower your position in my eyes by making any suppression. What was the cause of the quarrel?"

Burney's face was working, for after the excitement of the fight and its sudden ending he felt hysterically emotional, and in a broken voice the truth came pouring forth.

"I can't help it, sir, and if he bullies me afterwards for speaking I must tell all. Slegge's been jealous of both the new boys ever since they came. He's been as disagreeable and spiteful as could be, and forced us all to take his side."

"Yes, yes; go on," cried the Doctor, for the boy stopped with a gasp; but he spoke more calmly afterwards. "He's been working it up, sir, for a fight for days, out of jealousy because he thought more was made of Singh and Severn than of him."

"Indeed!" said the Doctor, nodding his head.

"And when it came, sir, to them having such a fuss made over them about their riding the elephant, and you asking them afterwards to dinner, it was bound to come."

The boy stopped, and the Doctor turned to the classical master.

"Do you hear this, Mr Rampson?" he said, in his most sarcastic manner, the one he adopted towards the most stupidly ignorant boys. "I presume then that I ought to ask Mr Thomas Slegge's permission before asking the two new pupils to my board."

"Yes, sir," burst out Burney, who had gathered breath and had now got into the swing of speaking. "It was bound to come, sir. Slegge said he should do it, and I can't help it if I do seem like a sneak for telling all."

"Go on, Burney," said the Doctor. "I'll be the judge of that."

"Well, sir, he told all us seniors to be ready for the first chance there was. He said—"

"Who said?" interrupted the Doctor. "Let us be perfectly correct."

"Slegge, sir. He said we were to be ready, for he was going to begin by giving the nigger fits."

"By giving the nigger fits?" said the Doctor slowly. "And, pray, what did he mean by that?"

"Licking Singh, sir; the new boy from India, sir."

"Oh," said the Doctor sarcastically. "But he has not been giving the nigger fits."

"No, sir; next day he changed his mind, and said he'd let Severn have it first."

"Have it first?" said the Doctor slowly. "Your language is not very correct, Burney. But go on."

"Yes, sir. He sent word round this morning to all the boys except those two that we were to meet down here by the elms; and when we did come, just as he thought, Severn and Singh fancied there was some new game on, and came to see. Then, sir, Slegge began at Severn, insulting him, sir—yes, that he did. I'm not going to say everything he called him; but he told him to stand up like a man and take his punishment."

"Yes; and what did Severn say?"

"He said, sir, he was not going to degrade himself by fighting like a street blackguard; and then Slegge jeered and mocked at him and set us all at him to call him coward and cur; and he ended, sir, by walking straight up to him, and he asked him three times if he'd fight, and Severn, sir, said he wouldn't, and then Slegge gave him a coward's blow—one in the nose, sir, and made it bleed."

"Ah!" said the Doctor. "And what did Severn do?"

"Took out his pocket-handkerchief, sir, and wiped it."

"Exactly," said the Doctor, with grim seriousness, "and a very correct thing too; that is," he continued hastily, as if he had some slight idea of the suggestiveness of his remark, "I mean, that Severn behaved very well in refusing to fight. But he turned upon Slegge, of course, after such an incitement as that."

"No, sir, he didn't; he only stood there looking very red and with his lips quivering, and looking quite wild and reproachful at Singh."

"Oh!" said the Doctor. "Then Singh has been in it too?"

"Yes, sir; Singh came at him like a lion, and said he was a coward and a cur, and that they'd never be friends again. But Severn did not speak a word, and before we knew what was going to happen next, Slegge took hold of Singh's ear and asked him what it had to do with him, and he called him a nigger and an impudent foreign brat; and almost before we knew where we were, Singh hit Slegge quick as lightning, one-two right in the face, and then stepped back and began to take off his jacket; but before he could pull it off, Slegge got at him; and the boys hissed, sir, for while Singh's hands were all in a tangle like in the sleeves, Slegge hit him three or four times in the face; but it only made him fierce, and getting rid of his jacket, he went at big Slegge."

"Ah!" ejaculated the Doctor. "Go on, Mr Burney."

"Slegge made a dash at him, sir; but Singh was too quick, and stepped on one side; and when Slegge turned upon him again Severn sprang in between them, snatched off his jacket, and crammed it into Singh's hands. And then all the boys began to hooray."

"What for?" said the Doctor.

"Because Severn said, sir, out loud, 'Not such a coward as you think, Singhy. I must fight now.'"

"Bad—very bad," said the Doctor; "cowardly too—two boys to one."

"Oh no, sir; Singh didn't do any more. He only laughed, threw down the jacket, and began slapping Severn on the back; and he seconded him, sir, quite fair and square all through, just as if he knew all about fighting, though he is a nig—Indian, sir. And there was a tremendous fight, till, after being a good deal knocked about, Severn was getting it all his own way, and finished off Slegge just as you came up, sir. And that's the whole truth.—Isn't it, boys?"

There was a chorus of the word "Yes," and the Doctor drew a deep breath as it came to an end. Then he uttered the interjection "Hah!" looked very searchingly at Slegge, scanning the injuries he had received, and afterwards made the same keen examination of Severn.

"Disgraceful!" he said at last, shaking his head and frowning. "Young gentlemen, you will resume your studies at once.—Mr Rampson, will you see that these two injured lads go to their dormitory directly. Mrs Hamton will attend to their injuries and report to me whether it is necessary for the surgeon to be called in.—You hear me, boys?" shouted the Doctor. "Disperse at once. There will be a lecture in the theatre in ten minutes' time.—Mr Rampson, there is to be no communication between these two principals and the rest.—You, Burney, and you, Singh, go on to my library."

The next minute the trampled arena was in silence, and the Doctor, with his hands clasped behind him, was marching back alone towards his study, going so slowly that every one who had formed a portion of the little gathering had disappeared by the time he was half-way to the open French window.

There was something peculiar about Dr Bewley's countenance as he slowly marched back. For one minute it was placid, the next stern, and directly after a slight quivering of the facial nerves developed into a mirthful look, which was emphasised by a low, pleasant, chuckling laugh. For the fact was that the tall, stern, portly Doctor's thoughts had gone far back to his old schooldays and a victory he had once achieved over the brutal bully of the school at which he had been placed. And whether he was alluding to the tyrant of his days or to the one who had lorded it for long enough in the establishment of which he was the head must remain a mystery; but certain it was that the Doctor muttered presently to himself, "An overbearing young ruffian! A thoroughly good thrashing; and serve him right!"

The next moment the utterer of these words, which had fallen upon his own ears only, was looking guiltily round as if in dread lest he might have been heard. But there was no one visible but Sam Grigg, who was brushing hard at boots by the entrance to his own particular outdoor den; and he was too far away to hear; while, when the Doctor entered his study, he was met at the door by Wrench, who announced that a lady was waiting in the drawing-room, and he handed a card.

"Ha, yes, Wrench," said the Doctor. "About a new pupil. I will see her directly.—Oh, Singh—Burney, you here? I will speak to you both another time. One moment—this is private, boys. You both know—at least, you do now, Burney, and you from henceforth must remember the same, Singh—I allow no brutal fighting in my establishment; but I am not very angry with you, my lads, for on the whole there was a display of manliness in your conduct that I cannot find it in my heart to condemn. There, you, Singh, can go and see your friend Severn.—And you, Burney, h'm—humph—well, yes, go and see Slegge. You must not forsake your companion now he is down."



CHAPTER TWELVE.

"WITH FACES LIKE THIS."

Singh's encounter with Slegge had been very short, and when the Doctor sent him in the tokens of the affray were very slight; but a few hours afterwards certain discolorations were so manifest that the Doctor frowned and told him he had better join his companion in the dormitory for a few days and consider himself in Mrs Hamton's charge. Singh hailed the order with delight, and went straight to his bedroom, where the plump, pleasant, elderly housekeeper had just entered before him, carrying a small basin half-full of some particular liniment-like preparation of her own, a sponge, and a soft towel.

When Singh appeared at the door Glyn sat up so suddenly that he nearly knocked over the basin that Mrs Hamton had given him to hold, after spreading the soft towel in his lap, when she began sponging his face with the preparation.

"Oh, my dear child," she cried, "pray, be careful!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the boy merrily.—"Oh, do look at him, Mrs Hamton. What a guy!"

"Guy!" cried Singh sharply. "What do you mean?"

He dashed to the dressing-table and took his first look at his face in the glass since he had dressed that morning.

"Oh, I say," he cried, "I never thought of this. Why, it's just like my face was that day after the sergeant had shown us how to use the boxing-gloves."

"Yes," cried Glyn merrily; "but what sort of a phiz would you have had if you had fought it out?"

"One something like yours," cried Singh. "Oh, I say, you ought to talk! What eyes! and your lip all cut. Why, your face is all on one side."

"Yes, isn't it shocking, my dear," said the old housekeeper. "I do hope that it will be a lesson to you both. I never could understand why young gentlemen were so fond of fighting."

"Oh, it's because it's so nice, Mrs Hamton," said Glyn, who spoke as if he were in the height of glee.

"I don't believe you mean that, my dear; but there, lie back in the chair again, and let me go on dabbing all your poor cuts and bruises with this lotion and water. It's so cooling and healing, and it will take all the inflammation out.—And don't you go, my dear," she continued, turning to Singh, "till I have done your face over too."

"I am not going," said Singh quietly. "The Doctor sent me up here to stop."

"Has he?" cried Glyn. "Oh, hurrah! Here, Mrs Hamton, another patient for you to make decent.—I say, Singhy, she's just come from old Slegge. I'm afraid I've made his face in a horrible mess."

"You have indeed, my dear," said the housekeeper reproachfully. "But oh, what a pity it is that young gentlemen will so far forget themselves! It grieves me; it does indeed."

"But I don't forget myself," protested Glyn. "I was obliged to fight. You wouldn't have had me lie down and let him knock both of us about for nothing, would you, nurse—I mean Mrs Hamton?"

"Oh, don't ask me, my dear; it's not for me to say; and you needn't mind calling me nurse, for it always sounds nice and pleasant to me. There, now, doesn't that feel cool and comforting?"

"Lovely," cried Glyn softly, and as he looked up in the pleasant face, with its grey curls on either side, his eyes for the moment, what could be seen of them, seemed to be sparkling with mischief and mirth, for there was a feeling of pride and triumph at his success swelling in his breast, and a few moments later, so great was the comfort he experienced under the delicate manipulation of his motherly attendant's hands, that he looked up at her and began to smile—only began, for he uttered an ejaculation of pain.

"Oh, my dear, did I hurt you?" cried the housekeeper.

"No," said the boy, in rather a piteous tone; "it was my face. It's all stiff and queer."

"Yes, I told you that it was one-sided," said Singh merrily.

"Well, never mind, my dear; it will soon be better," said the housekeeper soothingly. "But you must do exactly what I tell you, and be very patient and still."

"But, I say, look here, Mrs Hamton," cried Glyn, catching the hand which was bearing the sponge and holding it to his cheek, to the old lady's intense satisfaction, though somehow there came an unwonted look of moisture in her eyes.

"What were you going to say, my dear? But, dear, dear, what a pity it is that you should go and disfigure yourselves like this! What would your poor father say if he knew?"

"Oh, I say, don't talk about it," cried Glyn.—"Fancy, Singhy, if he could see us now!"

Glyn tried to whistle, but his puffed-up lips refused to give forth a sound; and, seeing this, Singh whistled for him, and then in spite of the pain and stiffness of their faces the two boys laughed till the suffering became intense.

"Oh, don't, don't, don't, Singhy!" cried Glyn. "I can't bear it."

"Well, I never did see two such young gentlemen as you are," said the old housekeeper, smiling in turn.

"You ought both to be lying back looking as melancholy as black, and here you are making fun of your troubles. Ah, it's a fine thing, my dears, to be boys and quite young; but I do hope that you will never fight any more, and that you will both soon go and shake hands with Mr Slegge, and tell him you are very sorry you hit him. I am sure that he must feel very sorry that he ever hit you, he being so much bigger and having so long had the advantage of being taught by the Doctor, who is the best man that ever lived, while you two are so new, and you, Mr Singh, so much younger than Mr Slegge that I do wonder he ever so far forgot himself as to hit you. Now, you will make friends afterwards, won't you?"

"No!" cried Singh sharply. "I hate the coward."

"Oh, my dear!" cried the old lady.

"He doesn't mean it, nursey," cried Glyn, getting hold of her hand again. "He only said it because he feels so sore. He's got a sore face and a sore temper; but it will be all right when he gets well."

"I hope so, my dear; and you will shake hands with him, won't you?"

"Yes," said Glyn merrily, "as soon as he holds out his. I can afford to.—Can't I, Singhy?"

"Oh yes, of course."

"There," said the old lady, "now that's spoken nicely, and I don't think I'll bathe your face any more.—Now, my dear," she continued to Singh, "it's your turn."

"Oh, mine doesn't want doing, does it?" said the boy carelessly.

"Yes, my dear, and very badly too. If it isn't bathed with my lotion it will go on swelling, and be more discoloured still."

"Oh!" cried the boy eagerly.—"Here, you, Glyn, get up out of that chair. It's my turn now, as Mrs Hamton says," and he took another glimpse at the glass. "There, I'm ready. Oh, I say, I do look a wretch!"

Under the care of the good-natured old housekeeper during the next two days a great deal of the swelling went down; but after the old lady's report, and visits from the Doctor himself, they were both still treated as infirmary patients, and relieved from lessons till such time as they should be presentable amongst their fellows.

But on the third day the confinement was growing irksome in the extreme; and the Doctor, after his daily visit, gave Singh permission to come down into the grounds if he liked. But the boy did not like. A glance at his companion in adversity revealed a disappointed look, and as soon as the Doctor was gone he picked up one of the books with which they were well supplied.

"Well," said Glyn gloomily, "why don't you go down?"

"Because I don't want to," was the reply; and no more was said.

But that afternoon soon after dinner, which was brought up to them by the housekeeper on a folding-tray, and just when the irksomeness of their position was pressing hardest upon their brains, there was a quick step on the stairs, a sharp tap at the door, the handle was turned without any waiting for permission, and Wrench's head was thrust in.

"I say, young gents," he cried, "here's a go!"

"What's the matter?" asked Glyn anxiously. "Don't say Slegge's worse."

"I wasn't going to, sir. It's something worse than that."

"What?"

"There's a gentleman along with the Doctor."

"A gentleman!" cried the boys together.

"Yes; a tall, military-looking gentleman, with long white starchers, and such a voice. He seemed as if he wanted to look me through. Fierce as fierce he was when he gave me his card to take in."

"What was on the card?" cried Glyn excitedly.

"Can't you guess, sir?" said the man, grinning.

"Colonel Severn!" shouted Singh.

"My father!" gasped Glyn. "Oh, Singhy! And us with faces like this!"



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

BEFORE THE "STARCHERS."

Singh ran across to the glass on the dressing-table.

"Why, Glyn, we can't see him. I'm bad enough, but you are far worse. What's to be done?"

"I dunno," cried Glyn. "Who in the world would have thought he was coming down here to-day!"

"We are supposed to be in the infirmary, aren't we?" said Singh. "I say, couldn't we undress and go to bed?"

"No," said Glyn promptly. "What difference would that make?"

"Why, he'd think we were too ill to be seen."

"Nonsense," cried Glyn. "Wouldn't he come up and see us all the same?"

"Oh dear!" groaned Singh. "What a mess we are in! This comes of your fighting."

"Well, who made me fight? Who began it?"

"Well, I suppose it was I," said Singh; "but I couldn't stand still and let him knock us both about. Oh dear, what a lot of bother it all is!"

"Here, I say, Wrench," cried Glyn excitedly, "were you sent up to tell us that my father was here?"

"No, sir," said the man, grinning; "but I thought you'd like to know. I must go now, in case my bell rings."

The footman went off hurriedly, and the two boys, after a fresh visit to the looking-glass, tried to make the best of their appearance.

Glyn combed his hair down in a streak over one side of his bruised forehead, while Singh poured out some cold water and dabbed and sponged his right eye; but he could not wash away the discoloration that surrounded it, and after applying the towel he plumped himself down in a chair and sat staring at his companion.

"It's no use," he said; "I daren't face guardian, and I won't."

"You tell him so," said Glyn, laughing, "and see what he will say."

"How am I going to tell him so when I shan't see him?"

"Why, you'll be obliged to."

"I tell you I won't!" cried Singh passionately.

"There's a sneak! And you will let me go down alone and face it all."

"Oh, I say, don't talk like that," cried Singh. "Can't we get out of it somehow, old chap? Let's run away till the Colonel's gone."

"Yes, of course," cried Glyn sarcastically. "How much money have you got?"

"Oh, I don't know; half-a-crown and some shillings."

"Oh, I have got more than that. I have got half-a-sovereign. Shall we go to Plymouth, and sail for somewhere abroad?"

"Yes, anywhere, so that we don't have to meet your father."

"Ah," said Glyn, who was trying very hard to make the lock of hair he had combed over a bruise stop in its place, but it kept jumping up again and curling back to the customary position in spite of applications of cold water and pomatum.

"Well, what do you mean by 'Ah'?" grumbled Singh.

"Mean by 'Ah'?" replied Glyn slowly. "Why, it means what a stupid old chucklehead you are. Run away! Likely, isn't it?"

"Oh, too late! too late!" cried Singh, for there was another sharp tap at the door, and Wrench entered smartly, closely followed by his cat.

"Doctor's compliments, gentlemen, and you are to come down into the drawing-room directly.—And just you go back to the pantry at once," he shouted at his cat. "How many more times am I to tell you that you are not to follow me up into the young gentlemen's rooms?"

"Bah!" shouted Glyn, and he threw the hairbrush he held smartly at the footman, who caught it cleverly, as if he were fielding a ball at mid-wicket, and deposited it upon the dressing-table.

"Well caught, sir!" cried the man, eulogising his own activity. "There, never mind, gentlemen; go down and get it over. There ain't anything to be ashamed of. If I was you, Mr Severn, I should feel proud at having licked that great big disagreeable chap. I shall be glad to see his back. He's quite big enough to leave school."

"Ah!" said Glyn with a sigh. "Come on, Singhy; Wrench is right. Let's get it over; only I want to bathe my face again. It smells of old Mother Hamton's embro—what did she call it? You may as well go on first. I won't be long."

"What!" cried Singh, looking aghast at the speaker. "Go down and see him alone? I won't! He's not my father; he's yours. You may go first, and I won't come unless I'm obliged."

"Won't you?" said Glyn, laughing softly, and he caught hold of his companion's wrist and drew it under his arm. "Open the door, Wrenchy, and make way for the hospital—two wounded men going down.—I say, Singhy, look as bad as you can. Here, I know: Wrenchy and I will carry you down in a chair."

Singh opened his mouth quickly and shut it sharply, making his white teeth close together with a snap. Then knitting his brows and drawing a deep breath, he held on tightly to his companion, and walked with him in silence downstairs into the hall. Here the pair stopped short by the drawing-room door, where Wrench slipped before them and raised his hand to show them in; but Glyn caught him by the arm.

"Wait a moment," he said, and the three stood there by the mat, forming a group, listening to the slow, heavy murmur of the Doctor's voice and the replies given in a loud, sonorous, emphatic tone.

"Now," said Glyn at last.

The door was thrown open, and they entered, to face the Doctor, who was seated back in an easy-chair with his hands before him and finger-tips joined; while right in the centre of the hearthrug, his back to the fireplace and legs striding as if he were across his charger, stood the tall grey Colonel, swarthy with sunburn and marked by the scar of a tulwar-cut which had divided his eyebrow and passed diagonally from brow to cheek.

He was gazing at the Doctor and listening politely to something he was saying in his soft, smooth voice, but turned his head sharply as the door was opened, and his ultra-long, heavy grey moustache seemed to writhe as he fixed the boys with his keen grey eyes in turn.

"Right, Doctor!" he cried, as if he were giving an order to a squadron to advance. "Disgraceful!—Well, you do look a pretty pair!"

"I'll leave you together," said the Doctor, rising slowly, and then glancing at the boys. "Yes," he said softly, "dreadfully marked; but you should have seen them, Colonel, directly after their encounter."

"Ha, yes; wounded on the field," said the Colonel drily. "Thank you. Yes, sir, I think I should like to have a few words with them alone."

For the first time since they had known him the feeling was strong upon the boys that they would have liked their preceptor to stay.

But the Doctor gave each of them a grave nod as he moved towards the door, and they both stood as if chained to the carpet till the Colonel made a stride forward, when Glyn recollected himself, ran to the door, and opened it for the Doctor to pass out.

The Colonel grunted, and then as the door was closed, he marched slowly across to his son; and as the boy faced him caught him by the shoulder with his right hand, walked him back to where Singh stood alone, grabbed him with his left, and forced them both towards the wide bay window fully into the light.

"Stand there!" he said, in commanding tones.

Then stooping stiffly to seize the Doctor's easy-chair by the back, he made the castors squeak as he swung it round and threw himself into it with his back to the window, when he crossed one leg over the other, and sat staring at them fiercely and scanning for some moments every trace of the late encounter.

Glyn drew a long, deep breath loudly enough to be heard, while Singh stood with hanging hands, opening and closing his fingers, and passing his tongue quickly over his dry lips. But the Colonel still went on staring at them and frowning heavily the while.

At last Singh could bear it no longer.

"Oh, say something, sir!" he cried passionately. "Scold us, bully us, punish us if you like; but I can't bear to be looked at like that."

It was the Colonel's turn now to draw a deep breath, as he raised himself in the chair a little, thrust one hand behind him, fumbled for his pocket, and then drew out a large soft bandana handkerchief and blew his nose with a blast like a trumpeted order to charge.

Then, as he sank back in his chair, "Ha, ha, ha! haw, haw, haw!" he literally roared. "Well, you do look a pretty pair of beauties!" he cried. "But this won't do. Here, you, Glyn, what do you mean by this, sir? Didn't I warn you against fighting, and tell you to protect and set an example to young Singh here?"

"Yes, father."

"Look at yourself in the glass. You look a pretty pattern, don't you?"

"Yes, father."

"I told you to look at yourself in the glass. Why don't you?"

"Because I know every scratch and bruise thoroughly by heart, father."

"But—" began the Colonel.

Here Singh interposed.

"It wasn't his fault, sir," cried the boy. "It was mine. He didn't want to fight, and said he wouldn't."