"Ho!" said the Colonel. "Said he wouldn't fight, did he."

"Yes, sir, and he actually let the big bully hit him."

"Ha!" said the Colonel. "And then knocked him down for it?"

"No, he didn't, sir," cried Singh, with his eyes twinkling. "He wouldn't fight even then."

"Humph!" grunted the Colonel. "And what then?"

"Well, it put me in such a rage, sir, that I couldn't bear it, and I went and hit the big fellow right in the face, and he hit me again."

"Ah, you needn't tell me that," replied the Colonel; "that's plain enough. Well, what after?"

"Well, that made Glyn take my part, and he swung me behind him; and oh, sir, he did give the big fellow such an awful thrashing!"

"Ha!" said the Colonel, taking his great grey moustache by both hands and drawing it out horizontally. "A thorough thrashing, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what were you doing?"

"Oh, I was seconding him, sir."

"Oh, that was right. You were not both on him at once?"

"Oh no, sir; it was all fair."

"Then Glyn thoroughly whipped him, eh?"

"Yes, sir, thoroughly."

The Colonel turned to his son, and looked him over again; and then, after another two-handed tug at his moustache, he said slowly:

"I say, Glyn, old chap, you got it rather warmly. But tut, tut, tut, tut! This won't do. What did that old chap say: 'Let dogs delight to bark and bite'? Here, I have been talking to the Doctor, and the Doctor has been talking to me. Look here, you, Singh, military fighting, after proper discipline, and done by fighting men, is one thing; schoolboy fighting is quite another, not for gentlemen. It's low and blackguardly.—Do you hear, Glyn?" he cried turning on his son. "Blackguardly, sir—blackguardly. Look at your faces, sir, and see how you have got yourselves marked. But er—er—"

He picked his pocket-handkerchief up from where he had spread it over his knees and blew another blast. "This er—this er—big fellow that you thrashed—big disagreeable fellow—bit of a bully, eh?"

"Regular tyrant, father. We hadn't been here a month, before not a day passed without his insulting Singh or making us uncomfortable."

"Ha! insulted Singh, did he?"

"Yes, sir," cried that individual through his set teeth. "He was always calling me nigger, and mocking at me in some way."

"Humph! Brute! And so, after putting up with a good deal, and obeying my orders till he couldn't stand it any longer, Glyn took your part and thrashed the fellow, eh?"

"Yes, sir, bravely," cried Singh, with his eyes flashing. "I wish you'd been there to see."

"I wish—"

The Colonel stopped short. "No, no. Tut, tut! Nonsense! I did not want to see. Here, hold out your hands, Glyn. No, no, not like that. Double your fists. Hold them out straight. I want to look at your knuckles. Dreadful! Nice state for a gentleman's hands. Fighting's bad.—Do you hear, Singh? Very bad. But I must confess that I didn't get through school without a turn-up or two myself. Glyn took your part, then, and thrashed the fellow. Well, he won't bully either of you again. Yes, I got into my scrapes when I was a boy; but you know times were different then. Everything was rougher. This sort of thing won't do. You must be more of gentlemen now—more polished. Fighting's bad."

"But you let the sergeant, father, teach us how to use the gloves after you had got them over from England."

"Eh? What, sir—what sir?" cried the Colonel sharply. "Well, yes, I did. It was a bit of a lapse, though, and every man makes mistakes. But that, you see, was part of my old education, and through being in India so many years and away from modern civilisation, and er—Of course, I remember; it was after your poor father had been talking to me, Singh, and telling me that he looked to me to make you a thorough English gentleman, one fit to occupy his throne some day, and rule well over his people—firmly, justly, and strongly, as an Englishman would. And, of course, I thought it would be right for you both to know how to use your fists if you were unarmed and attacked by ruffians. And—er, well, well, you see I was not quite wrong. Mind, you know, I detest fighting, and only this morning I have been quite agreeing with the Doctor—fine old gentlemanly fellow, by the way, and a great scholar— agreeing with him, I say, that this fighting is rather a disgrace. At the same time, my boys, as I was about to say, I was not quite wrong about those gloves. You see, it enabled Glyn here to bring skill to bear against a bigger and a stronger man, and er—um—you see, there are other kinds of fighting that a man will have to go through in life; and then when such things do happen, mind this—I mean it metaphorically, you know—when you do have to fight with your fists, or with your tongue, thrash your adversary if you can; but if he from superior skill or strength thrashes you, why then, take it like a man, shake hands, and bear no malice against the one who wins."

The Colonel blew his nose again.

"That's not quite what I wanted to say, my boys; but I shall think this affair over a bit, and perhaps I shall have a few more words to say by-and-by."

"Oh, I say, dad—" cried Glyn.

"What do you mean by that, sir?" said the Colonel sharply.

"Finish it all now, and don't bring it up again."

"Glyn!" cried the Colonel sternly.

"Yes, father."

"Don't you dictate to me, sir. I promised the Doctor that I would talk to you both severely about this—this—well, piece of blackguardism, ungentlemanly conduct, and I must keep my word. But I will reserve the rest till after dinner."

"After dinner, father?" cried Glyn eagerly.

"Yes. I have come down to stay at Plymborough for a few days at the hotel, and I have told them there that I should have two gentlemen to dine with me to-night, of course, if the Doctor gives his consent."

"Oh, but look at us, sir!" cried Singh. "We are in the infirmary, and not fit to come."

"Infirmary!" said the Colonel scornfully. "Ha, ha! You look infirm both of you!"

"Oh, we don't feel much the matter, father," said Glyn; "but look at us."

"Look at you, sir? How can I help looking at you? Yes, you do look nice objects."

"But we can't help it now, sir," said Singh, "and we should like to come."

"Humph! Yes, of course you'd like to come, my boy, and I want to have you both to finish my lecture after I have thought it out a little more. Well, look here, my lads; you are both bruised and—er—a bit discoloured; but the world isn't obliged to know that it was done with fists. You might have been thrown off your horses or been upset in a carriage accident. Oh yes, it's no business of anybody else's. I shall ask the Doctor to let you come."

"Oh, thank you, father!" cried Glyn eagerly. "But I say, dad, you didn't shake hands with Singh when we came in."

"Well, no, boy; but—there, there, that's all right now. You see I had to listen to what the Doctor said. Why, he tells me that you fellows showed them all down here how to deal with a rowdy elephant."

"Singh did, father."

"Well done, boy! You see, that's one great advantage in learning. Nearly everything comes useful some time or other, and—There, let me see," he continued, referring to his watch. "I must be off. Visit too long as it is. Ring the bell, one of you. I want to see the Doctor again before I go."

"And you will get us leave, sir?" cried Singh, as he returned from pulling at the bell.

"Oh yes, I'll manage that. Seven o'clock, boys, military time; and now you both be off; but mind this, I am going to finish my lecture after dinner, for I am not satisfied with what I said. There, right about face! March!"

As the boys reached the door the handle was turned and the Doctor entered the room.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

A LITTLE BIT ABOUT THE PAST.

"Well, boys, glad to see you! Did Dr Justinian say anything to you about coming away to-night?"

"No, father; but—Dr Justinian—who do you mean?"

"Why, your law-maker and instructor. He spoke very seriously to me about breaking his laws and rules. Well, here you are. Come along. The dining-room is this way.—I have been very busy since I saw you, Singh. I have seen the cook and given him a good talking to, and he has promised us a regular Indian dinner, with curry."

The Colonel laid his hand on Singh's shoulder, and they passed out into the hall of the hotel.

As they were crossing, Morris entered from the other side, nodded and smiled to the boys, raised his hat to the Colonel, who stared at him, and then passing on, went up to the office to speak to the manager.

"Friend of yours, boys?" said the Colonel. "Yes, father; one of our masters."

"Oh! What brings him here?"

"I don't know, father. Perhaps he thought you might ask him to dinner."

"Ho!" said the Colonel, with a snort. "Then he thought wrong. Ah—but one moment! Would you like me to ask him, my boy?"

"Oh no," cried Glyn, with a look of dismay. "We want you all to ourselves, father."

"But you, Singh; would you like him to join us?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"No," he said; "I think like Glyn does," and Singh clung in a boyish, affectionate manner to the stalwart Colonel's arm, greatly to that gentleman's satisfaction.

"Then we will have our snug little dinner all to ourselves, boys, and a good long talk about old times and the last news I have had from Dour.— Yes, all right, waiter; serve the dinner at once, and mind everything is very hot.—There you are: snug little table for three. I'll sit this side with my back to the light, and you two can sit facing it, so that I can look at you both."

"Oh, but that isn't fair, father," cried Glyn. "We ought to be with our backs to the light."

"Not at all, sir," said the Colonel, laughing. "A soldier should never be ashamed of his scars."

The seats were taken, the dinner began, and had not proceeded far before Glyn noticed that the waiter was staring very hard at his bruised face, getting so fierce a look in return that the man nearly dropped the plate he was handing, and refrained from looking at him again.

"Better bring candles, waiter," said the Colonel.—"One likes to see what one is eating, boys;" and as a few minutes later the waiter placed a tall branch with its four wax candles in the centre of the table, the Colonel nodded to Singh. "There," he said, "now we can all play fair, and you can see my scars."

"Yes," said Singh, looking at the Colonel fixedly. "There's the big one quite plain that father used to tell me about."

"Indeed!" said the Colonel sharply. "Why, what did he tell you about it, and when?"

"Oh, it was when I was quite a little fellow," replied Singh. "He said it was in a great fight when three of the rajahs had joined against him to attack him and kill him, and take all his land. He said that there was a dreadful fight, and there were so many of his enemies that he was being beaten."

"Oh—ah—yes," said the Colonel. "Your father and I had a great many fights with his enemies when the Company sent me to help him with a battery of horse artillery, and to drill his men."

"Was that, father, when you drilled and formed your regiment of cavalry?"

"Yes, boy, yes. But never mind the fighting now. That was in the old days. Go on with your dinner."

But Singh did not seem to heed his words, for he was sitting gazing straight before him at the scar on his host's forehead; and laying down his knife and fork he continued, in a rapt, dreamy way, "And he said he thought his last hour had come, for he and the few men who were retreating with him had placed their backs against a steep piece of cliff, and they were fighting for their lives, surrounded by hundreds of the enemy."

"My dear boy, you are letting your dinner get cold," said the Colonel, in a petulant way.

"Yes," continued Singh, "and it was all just like a story out of a book. I used to ask father to tell it to me, and when I did he used to smile and make me kneel down before him with my hands on his knees."

"But, my dear Singh," interposed the Colonel, who looked so annoyed and worried that Glyn kicked his schoolfellow softly under the table, and then coloured up.

"Don't!" cried Singh sharply; and then in his old dreamy tone, "When he told me I used to seem to see it all, with his fierce enemies in their steel caps with the turbans round them, and the chain rings hanging about their necks and their swords flashing in the air as they made cuts at my father's brave friends; and first one fell bleeding, and then another, till there were only about a dozen left, and my father the Maharajah was telling his men that the time had come when they must make one bold dash at their enemies, and die fighting as brave warriors should."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" cried the Colonel querulously. "But that curry is getting cold, my boy, and it won't be worth eating if it isn't hot."

"Yes, I'll go on directly," continued Singh in the same imperturbable manner, and he leaned his elbows now upon the table, placed his chin upon his hands, and fixed his eyes upon the Colonel's scar.

"I can see it all now so plainly," he said; and with a quick gesture his host dropped his knife sharply in his plate and clapped his hand across his forehead, while Glyn gave his schoolfellow another thrust—a soft one this time—with his foot.

But Singh paid not the slightest heed to his companion's hint. He only leaned a little more forward to look now in the Colonel's eyes; and laughing softly he continued:

"That doesn't make any difference. I can see it all just the same, and I seem to hear the roar like thunder father spoke about. He said it was the trampling of horses and the shouting of men, and it was you tearing over the plain from out of the valley, with all the men that you had drilled and made into his brave regiment. They swept over the ground with a rush, charging into the midst of the enemy and cutting right and left till they reached my father and his friends, when a terrible slaughter went on for a few minutes before the enemy turned and fled, pursued by your brave soldiers, who had left their leader wounded on the ground. Father said he had just strength enough to catch you in his arms as you fell from your horse with that terrible gash across your forehead. That was how he said you saved his life and always became his greatest friend."

The Colonel's lips had parted to check the narration again and again; but he seemed fascinated by the strange look in the boy's eyes, and for the time being it was as if the whole scene of many years before was being enacted once again; while, to Glyn's astonishment, the boy slowly rose from his seat, went round to the Colonel's side of the table, to stand behind his chair till the waiter left the room, and then laying one hand on the old warrior's shoulder, with the other he drew away that which covered the big scar, and bending over him he said softly:

"Father told me I was to try and grow up like you, who saved his life, and that I was always to think of you as my second father when he was gone."

As Singh ended he bent down gently, and softly and reverently kissed the scar, while the Colonel closed his eyes and Glyn noticed that his lips were quivering beneath the great moustache, which seemed to move strangely as if it had been touched.

For a few moments then there was a deep silence, during which Singh glided back to his seat, took up his knife and fork, and said, in quite a changed tone of voice:

"It always makes me think of that when I sit and look at you. And it comes back, sir, just like a dream. My father the Maharajah told me I was never to forget that story; and I never shall."

Just at that moment the door was opened, and the waiter entered bearing another dish, while through the opening there came a burst of music as if some band were playing a march.

"Hah!" cried the Colonel, speaking with quite a start, but with his voice sounding husky and strange, and the words seeming forced as he gave Singh a long and earnest look. "Why, surely that is not a military band?"

"No, sir," said the waiter, as he proceeded to change the plates, two of them having their contents hardly touched. "There's a wild-beast show in the town, sir, in the field at the back," and as he spoke the man looked sharply at the boys.

"Oh," said the Colonel with a forced laugh. "Why, boys, is that where your elephant came from?"

And then the dinner went on, with the Colonel forcing himself into questioning the boys about their adventure, and from that he brought up the elephants in Dour, and chatted about tiger-shooting and the dangers of the man-eaters in the jungle. But all the time Glyn kept noting that his father spoke as if he had been strangely moved, and that when he turned his eyes upon Singh his face softened and his voice sounded more gentle.

As they sat over the dessert, Singh asked him to tell them about one of the other old fights that his father and the Colonel had been in.

"Don't ask me, my boy," said the Colonel gently. "You can't understand it perhaps. When you grow as old as I am perhaps you will. But I don't know. You like Glyn after a fashion, I suppose?"

"Like him?" cried Singh half-fiercely. "Why, of course I do!"

"Ha!" said the Colonel. "And Glyn likes you, I know; and no wonder— brought up together as you were like brothers. Well, my boy, I went out to India not very much older than you two fellows are, as a cadet in the Company's service, and somehow or other, being a reckless sort of a fellow, I was sent into several of the engagements with some of the chiefs, and was picked out at last, when I pretty well understood my work, to go to your father's court as you said, my boy, with half-a-dozen six-pounders and teams of the most dashing Arab horses in the service. Then, somehow, your father got to like me, and I liked him, and then we did a lot of fighting together until he was fixed securely upon his throne, and he never would hear of my leaving him again. But there, you know all about it. He left you to me, Singh, to make a man of you with Glyn here, and I hope to live to go back with you both to Dour and see you safe in your rightful position and fight for you if the need should ever come. And some day I hope that you two boys will have grown into two strong, true-hearted men, with the same brotherly love between you as held your fathers fast. And then—Oh, hang that music! The fellows can't play a bit. Here, what do you say? Shall we walk into the field and listen to them and see the show? Your elephant too?"

"No," said Singh softly. "Let's stop here and talk about Dour and my father. We don't often see you now, sir, and I should like that best."

"To be sure, then, my dear boys, we will stop here. I want you to do what you like best.—But you, Glyn: what do you say?"

"I like to hear you talk, father, and to be with you as much as we can."

"That's good, my boy. Then, to begin with," cried the Colonel with a chuckle, "I'll just finish my lecture. I was very nearly letting it slip."

"Oh, but, father," cried Glyn, "I thought you had looked over all that."

"I have, my boy; but you know I am not good at talking. The Doctor would have given you a splendid lecture on fighting."

"He did," said Glyn drily, and the Colonel laughed.

"I suppose he would, my boys; but since I saw you this morning something occurred to me that I might have mentioned to you. How much do you boys know about Shakespeare?"

"Not much, father—neither of us, I am afraid."

"Ah, well, I dare say it will come to you by-and-by; but there are some words that Shakespeare put into the mouth of an old court official in Hamlet, when he was bidding his son good-bye before he went abroad. There, don't yawn, either of you. I am only trying to quote it to you because to my mind they were very good words, and just suitable for you, because they were about fighting: 'Beware of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, bear't that the opposer may beware of thee; and—' Humph! Ah, dear me, let me see; there was something else about borrowing and lending. But never mind that. It was about the fighting that I wanted to speak, and the long and short of it was, don't fight, boys, if you can possibly help it; but if you do fight, show the other fellow that you know how. There, that's enough about that. Now then, what shall we talk about next?—Yes, waiter, what is it?"

"Beg pardon, sir, but there's a person, sir, in the hall wants to know if he can see the young gentlemen."

"Eh? Who is it?" said the Colonel sharply. "Not one of the masters?"

"No, sir. It's the proprietor, sir, of the big wild-beast show, sir, in the field—Mr Ramball, sir."

"Oh, pooh! pooh!" cried the Colonel. "Tell him the young gentlemen are engaged, and don't care to visit his show to-night."

"Yes, sir. But beg pardon, sir, I don't think it's about that. He's in great trouble about something, sir. He's well-known here, sir; has a large farm two or three miles away where he keeps his wild things when he's not taking them round the country."

"Well, but—" began the Colonel.

"Said it was very particular business, sir, and he must see the young gentlemen."

"Why, it must be something about his elephant, father," cried Glyn eagerly.

"Well, but, my dear boys, you can't be at the beck and call of this man because he owns animals that he can't manage. But there, there, I don't want you two to withhold help when you can give it. We'll hear what he has to say.—We'll come out and speak to him.—I'll come, boys, because you may want to refer to me."

The little party followed the waiter out into the hall, where Ramball was standing, hat in one hand, yellow handkerchief in the other, dabbing his bald head and looking very much excited.

"Hah!" he cried. "There you are, gentlemen!" And he put his handkerchief on the top of his head and made a movement as if to thrust his hat into his pocket, but recollected himself and put the handkerchief into the hat instead. "I have been up to the school, gentlemen—Your servant, sir. I beg pardon for interrupting you; but I have been up to the school to ask for the young gentlemen there, and I saw Mr Wrench the Doctor's man, and he said that you had come on here to dinner.—Pray, pray, gentlemen, come and help me, or I am a ruined man."

"Why, what's the matter?" cried Singh and Glyn in a breath.

"Didn't you hear, gentlemen? He's got away again—pulled the iron picket out of the ground, and gone off with the chain and all chinkupping from his leg. I have got men out all over scouring the country, and as soon as they have found out where he is I'd take it kindly, gentlemen, if you'd come and bring him home."

"Come, come, my man," said the Colonel good-humouredly, "isn't this rather cool?"

"Cool, sir! It's too hot to be borne. That great beast will be the death of me before he's done. Do say a kind word for me, sir, to the young gents. They have got a power over that beast as beats miracles. I wouldn't ask, sir, but I'm about done. I should have shot him the other day if these 'ere young gents hadn't stopped me and showed me, a man of fifty, as has handled poisonous snakes and gone after lions before now when they'd got out—showed me, I say, that I didn't understand my work."

"Oh, well," said the Colonel, "I—I—"

At that moment the elephant's keeper and another man, a driver of one of the caravans, hurried excitedly into the hotel hall, dragging between them a miserable-looking object, drenched with mud and water, and trembling in every limb.

"Mr Ramball, sir!" cried the keeper.

"What, have you found him?" cried the proprietor.

"No, sir; but we've come across this chap, as has got a cock-and-bull story about something, and I think it means that he's seen him."

"Yes—what? Where? How?" cried Ramball, catching hold of the man by the shoulders and letting go again directly, to dive into his hat for his handkerchief. "Why, you are all wet and muddy!" he cried, wiping his hands. "Where did you see him?"

"The giant, sir?" said the poor fellow, shivering.

"Giant?" cried Ramball. "Well, yes, giant if you like. Where did you see him?"

"It was about a mile down the road, sir, and we was coming down the Cut Lane with a load of clover, my mate and me, which we had been to fetch for the governor's horses in the yard here. My mate was driving, and I was sitting on a heap of the clover, stacked up on the hind ladder of the cart. We'd stopped a while after loading up, being a bit tired, to give the horses a drink, and it had got dark, while as we was coming home, me sitting behind as I telled you, and my mate driving in front, all of a suddent, and just as I was half-asleep and smoking my pipe, a great big giant loomed up on t'other side of the hedge, and before I knew where I was he reaches down, slips his arm round me, and lifts me right out of the cart."

The man wiped his face with his muddy hand and uttered a low groan.

"Well, go on," cried Ramball. "What next?"

"Don't hurry me, master, please," said the man piteously. "I'm shook all to pieces, and feel that freckened that I could sit down and cry. I was too much staggered to call out for help, and when I tried to look round, my mate and the cart was gone, and this 'ere great thing was carrying me away right across Snow's field, and all I could think of was that he was hungry and had made me his prey."

"Humph! An ogre, I suppose," said the Colonel to the boys.

"No, sir," said the man; "it was one of them there great giants as you read of in books; and no matter how I tried to get away, he only hugged me the tighter."

"Well, well," said the Colonel; "but you did escape."

"No, sir; I didn't, sir. He carried me right across the field and dropped me into the big horse-pond in the corner. I was half-drowned, I was; and when I struggled to the side my legs stuck in the mud right up to my knees. And then I found that I had come out, half-blind with mud and water, just where he was standing with his back to me, and then I daren't move. But he took no more notice of me, and walked right off, so that I saved my life. Next thing was I come upon your two men, Mr Ramball, sir, and they got asking me questions; but I was too skeart to understand what they meant, and so they brought me here.—You don't know, I suppose," he continued, speaking to one of the waiters who had come into the hall, "whether my mate came home safely with the clover cart?"

"Bah!" cried Ramball. "With your giant indeed! Which way did he go?"

"I dunno, sir; it was too dark. But it were a giant. I could swear to him if I saw him again. I should know him by his trowges."

"Know him by what?" cried the Colonel, laughing heartily.

"By his trowges, sir. I was down in the mud close behind him, and I could see right up his great legs to his waist. I couldn't see any farther, he was so big. Awful giant, he was. You may take my word, sir, for that."

"Bah!" roared the proprietor. "Here, my lads, he's frightened this poor lad nearly into fits, and we are wasting time. Off with you, and follow his track from the spot where you found the man. Run him down, and then don't do anything more to scare him or make him turn nasty; but one of you stop and watch, and t'other come back here and tell me where he is."

The two keepers obeyed promptly, and hurried away, while one of the waiters sent the scared carter out into the kitchen.

"That's 'im, sir," said Ramball; "and if the young gents would just give me a hand to make things easy—"

"Yes, yes," said the Colonel; "but from what I know of elephants, that great brute may go wandering about through the country for half the night. You'd better go after your men and track him. He'll be most likely in some turnip-field having a gorge, and if you can't get him quietly back come to me again and I'll see what I can do."

"Beg pardon, sir," said Ramball quietly, "I am ready for anything now, cunning as I used to think myself. But does your honour understand elephants?"

"Does he understand elephants, Glyn!" cried Singh.—"Why, Mr Ramball, my friend's father has trapped scores out in the Terai."

"Of course he has, sir," said Ramball.—"Thank you kindly, then, sir. I'll have my pony put to and go after him at once."

Ramball hurried out of the hall, and the Colonel with his young guests was about to return to the dining-room when they found that Morris and Professor Barclay were standing close behind them.

"Quite a succession of adventures, Mr Singh," said Morris.

"Yes," said the Professor, "and most interesting your knowledge of the habits of those great beasts."

"Yes, exactly," said the Colonel drily. "They are rather difficult to deal with.—Come boys," and he led the way into the dining-room. "There, sit down for a bit," he said, resuming his old seat. "Are both those your masters, Glyn, my boy?"

"No, father; only one. The other's a friend of his, I think."

"What, that rather shady-looking individual?"

"No, father, the Professor—Professor Barclay. He dined at the Doctor's the other night."

"Oh," said the Colonel. "Well, I don't wish to be too exclusive; but somehow I never care for strangers who are so very eager to make friends."

"But oughtn't we to have gone to help find the elephant, father?" said Glyn.

"No, my boy, I think not. You are my guests to-night, and we don't often meet. If they find him, and there is any real necessity, perhaps we will go; but we shall see."

They did not see; for a quiet chat was enjoyed for another half-hour, and then the Colonel walked with them to the Doctor's gates and said goodnight.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

THE RAJAH'S MORNING CALL.

"Singh!"

There was no answer. "Singh! Oh, what a sleepy old mongoose it is! Singhy! What's that row out in the playground?"

It was early dawn. The first faint rays of day were peering in on both sides of the drawn blind, the speaker was Glyn, and the words were uttered in consequence of a peculiar clanking noise heard out in the play-yard.

Now, the most common-sense way of finding out the meaning of the noise which had awakened the boy from a deep sleep would have been to jump out of bed, draw up the blind, and throw up the window, letting in the fresh, cool morning air, as the head was thrust out and eyes brought to bear upon the dimly seen shadowy space below. But Glyn felt very drowsy, exceedingly comfortable, and not in the slightest degree disposed to stir. Consequently he called across the little room to the other bed, and, as before said, there was no reply.

"Oh, you are a sleepy one!" muttered the boy, and reaching up his hands he turned them into a catapult, seizing the pillow by both ends, and drawing it upwards from beneath his head, when without rising he hurled it across at Singh, striking him with a pretty good whop.

"Great cowardly bully; that's what you are," muttered the boy. "Oh, I wish I was ten times as strong! Take that, and that, and that!"

The commands were accompanied by a heavy panting, and the sound of blows.

"Why, what's he doing?" said Glyn to himself, growing more wakeful, and beginning to chuckle as he grasped the situation. "Oh, what a game!" he said softly. "He's lying on his back, and got the nightmare, only it's a morning mare; and he's dreaming he's fighting with old Slegge again, and punching my pillow, thinking it's his head. I only wish it had been as soft, and then I shouldn't have had so much skin off my knuckles.— There! There it goes again! It must be the workpeople come to open a drain or something. They must be cross at having to get up so early, or else they wouldn't be banging their tools down like that! Hi! Singhy!"

"Cowardly brute!"

"Singhy!"

"Eh? What's the matter? Time to get up? I haven't heard the bell."

"There it goes again," cried Glyn, as the jangling rattle rose to his ears once more.

"Glyn, what's that?"

"Oh, what an old stupid it is! Here have I been shouting ever so long to make you get up and see. Go and open the window and look out."

"Heigh-ho-hum!" yawned Singh. "I was dreaming that old Slegge hit me in the face again."

"Yes, I know you were."

"Why, you couldn't know I dreamt it."

"But I tell you I did know."

"How could you know, when I was dreaming and you weren't?"

"Why, you were shouting it at me, and pitching into my pillow, thinking it was old Slegge's head."

"Get out! I wasn't. I—Here, how is it I have got two pillows here? Why, you wretch, you must have thrown one at me to wake me!"

There was a sharp rustling, an expiration of breath, and the soft head-rest was hurled back again, just as the jangling noise was repeated more loudly.

"There! Hear that?" cried Glyn.

"I am not deaf, stupid."

"Then jump up and go and see what it is."

"Shan't! It's quite dark yet, and I am as tired as can be."

"Well, only get up and see what that noise is, and then you can go to sleep again."

"Shan't, I tell you. I am not your coolie. What lazy people you English are!"

There was a fresh jangling from below, exciting Glyn's curiosity almost to the highest pitch.

"Look here, Singhy, if you don't get up directly and see what that noise is, I'll come and make you."

"You do if you dare!"

Glyn threw the clothes back, sprang out of bed, and the next moment the coverings of his companion were stripped off on to the floor.

"Oh, you—" snapped Singh. "I'll pay you out for all this!"

"Come on, then."

Glyn did not wait to see whether his companion did come on, but stepped to the window, pulled up the blind, and raised up the window to look out.

"Here, Singh!" he cried, turning to look back. "Come here, quick!"

"Shan't! And if you don't bring those clothes back I'll—I'll—Oh, I say, Glyn, don't be an old stupid. Throw my things over me again and shut that window. Ugh! It is cold!"

"Will you come here and look? Here's the old elephant again."

"Gammon!" cried Singh, whose many years' association with Glyn had made him almost as English in his expressions. "Think you are going to cheat me out of my morning's snooze by such a cock-and-bull story as that?"

Oddly enough at that moment there rang out from one of the neighbouring premises the shrill clarion of a bantam-cock.

"Ha, ha!" laughed Glyn merrily. "It's a cock and elephant!"

"Don't believe you."

But as the rattling noise was continued, Singh sat up in bed.

"I say," he continued, "what's the good of talking such stuff?"

"Stuff, eh? You come and see. Here's that great elephant right in the middle of the playground."

"Tell you I don't believe you, and I shan't get up."

"Ugh! What an old heretic you are! Didn't he get away last night and go no one knows where? Well, he's here."

"I say, though, is he really?"

Clinkitty, clank! clinkitty, clank!

"Hear that?" cried Glyn. "Now you will believe. He's got in here somehow, and he's dragging that chain and the big iron peg all about the playground. Here, I know, Singhy," continued Glyn in a high state of excitement, "he's come after you."

"Rubbish!" shouted Singh; and, springing out of bed, he rushed to the window, where in the gradually broadening dawn, half-across the playground, looking grey and transparent in the morning mist, the huge bulk of the elephant loomed up and looked double its natural size.

"There, then," cried Glyn, "will you believe me now?"

Singh uttered an exclamation aloud in Hindustani, and in an instant there was a shrill snort and a repetition of the clinking of the great chain, as the huge beast shuffled slowly across till it stood close up to the hedge which divided the garden from the playground; and there, muttering softly as if to itself, it began to sway its head from side to side, lifting up first one pillar-like leg and foot and then the other, to plant them back again in the same spot from which they had been raised.

"Well, this is a pretty game," continued Glyn. "Here, you had better say something to him, or shall I?"

"What shall I say?" answered Singh.

"Tell him to kneel down, or lie down and go to sleep before he comes through that hedge and begins walking all over the Doctor's flower-beds."

Seeing the necessity for immediate action, Singh uttered a sharp, short order, and the elephant knelt at once.

"Ah, that's better," cried Glyn.

"What shall I do now?" asked Singh, rather excitedly.

"Do? Why, you had better dress as quickly as you can, and go down to him."

"But it's so early," said Singh. "I haven't finished my sleep."

"And you won't either; and you had better look sharp before he rams that great head of his against the door and comes upstairs to fetch you."

"Bother the elephant!" cried Singh irritably, for this early waking from a comfortable sleep had soured his temper.

"All right; bother him, then," replied Glyn, who was wonderfully wakeful now; "but it seems to me that he's going to bother us. I say, Singhy, the Doctor said he wouldn't let Slegge keep that fox-terrier dog he bought a month ago."

"Well, I know; but what's that got to do with the elephant coming here?"

"Oh, I only meant that the Doctor won't let you keep him as a pet," said Glyn with a chuckle.

"Such rubbish!" snapped out Singh in a rage, as he stood on one leg, thrust one foot through his trousers, and then raising the other he lost his balance somehow, got himself tangled up, and went down with a bang.

"Oh, bother the old trousers!" he cried angrily, as he scrambled up. "Here, I don't know what we are going to do."

"Don't you? Well, I do. It's plain enough that the great brute has been wandering about till he found his way here."

"But how did he get in?" cried Singh jumpily and with a good deal of catching of the breath, for in his haste he kept on getting into difficulties with his buttons and the holes through which they ought to have passed.

"Well, I don't know," said Glyn; "but I should say he tramped along yonder under the wall till he came to where the hedge had been mended up, and then walked through."

"Well, suppose he did," said Singh angrily. "What difference does that make? You see what a mess we are in. You are always pretending to give me good advice; now one is in regular trouble you don't say a word."

"Yes, I did," cried Glyn, who was also hastily dressing. "Not give you advice! Why, didn't I just now tell you I was quite sure the Doctor would not let you keep him for a pet?"

"Look here," snarled Singh, "you'll make me angry directly," and he glanced viciously at his water-jug.

"Can't," cried Glyn. "You're so cross now I couldn't make you any worse. But, I say, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," replied Singh. "Take it home, I suppose. I came here to England to be educated and made into an English gentleman, not to be turned into a low-caste mahout."

"Oh, what's the good of being so waxy? Look at the fun of the thing! Here, I know; let's finish dressing, and then send old Wrench to tell Mr Ramball that we have found his elephant, or that he has found us."

"But he won't be up till it's time to ring the six o'clock bell. What time is it now?"

"I don't know. About half-past one, I should think," cried Glyn, laughing merrily.

"There you go again! You know it must be much later than that. Yet you will keep on saying things to make me wild. Are you going to help me get out of this dreadful scrape?"

"It isn't your scrape. It's only an accident. You talked to the beast in the old language, and it came after you again, just like a dog after its own master."

"Look here," said Singh, "do you know where Wrench sleeps?"

"Yes."

"Where?" cried Singh eagerly.

"In his bed."

"Oh!" roared Singh passionately; and hearing his loud voice the elephant grunted and began to rise slowly.

"There, I knew you would do it," cried Glyn, who was bubbling over with fun. "He's coming upstairs."

"Oh!" cried Singh again, with an ejaculation of dismay, as he hurried to the window, thrust out his head, and shouted something that sounded like "Gangarroo rubble dubble."

But whatever it meant, it stopped the elephant from crashing through a piece of palisading, and made it kneel again with its head over a flowerbed, and begin picking all the blossoms within its reach.

"Oh dear, just look at him!" cried Singh piteously. "And here you are laughing as if it were the best fun you have ever seen!"

"Well, so it is," cried Glyn—"a regular game!"

"Game! Why, I feel as if I could run away to guardian at the hotel, and never show my face here again."

"Here, don't be such a jolly old stupid, making Kunchinjingas out of pimples. Here, I know what I'll do. Of course we couldn't get to old Wrench's place. He sleeps in a turn-up bed in his pantry, I believe. I'd soon turn him down, if I could," cried Glyn, as he poured the contents of his jug into the basin.

"But you had an idea," said Singh.

Bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble, came from the basin as the boy thrust in his face.

Singh uttered a sound like a snarl.

"Wait till I get my towel," gasped Glyn as he raised his face for a moment, and directly after—sounding half-smothered in huckaback, and coming in spasmodic jerks—the boy panted out, "I guess it's about four o'clock now. I'll—I'll go down and make—believe it's six, and ring the big bell. That'll make old Wrench come tumbling out in a fright."

"Ah, to be sure; now you are talking sense. Capital! Make haste."

"Well, I am making haste."

"Oh, Glyn, old chap," cried Singh piteously, "don't, pray don't, begin making fun of it all again. I feel just as if I am to blame for all the mischief that great beast has done and is going to do. He'll obey me, and as soon as I am dressed I am going down to talk to him and try and keep him quiet while you rouse up Wrench."

"Rouse up Wrench!" said Glyn laughing. "Why, it'll rouse up the whole school. Only that I know that the fellows won't be in any hurry to get up, I should be afraid that they would come scrambling out into the playground, and we should have the great monster picking the little ones up one at a time and taking them like pills."

"Oh, there you go again," cried Singh piteously.

"Oh, all right, old chap. That was a slip. But I say, I suppose I'd better not stop to take my hair out of the curl-papers."

"Glyn!"

"There, all right. Dry now. Must put a comb through my hair. I look so fierce the elephant would take me for an enemy. There we are," he continued, talking away as he busied himself. "Is the parting straight? There, come along. Well, you are a fellow! I am ready first."

They hurried down the stairs and made for the door, to find to their great dismay that it was locked, bolted, and chained, and so dark at the end of the passage that it was hard work to find the fastenings; and while Glyn was fumbling about in utter ignorance of how the chain was secured there came, faintly heard, from outside a shrill trumpeting sound.

"Oh," gasped Singh, "he has missed us, and thinks we are gone."

"Run up to the window again and order him to lie down," cried Glyn, speaking earnestly now. "I'll get the door open somehow, or a window, and go out to him and make-believe to mount, till you come down. That'll keep him quiet."

"Yes, yes," panted Singh; "only do make haste."

The boy hurried back along the passage, and in the darkness kicked against a mat and went down with a bang.

"Don't stop to pick up the pieces," cried Glyn, and there was a sound came out of the darkness as if Singh had snapped his teeth together.

Then for nearly five minutes Glyn went on fumbling over the fastenings, and succeeded at last in throwing open the door, to see a few golden fleck-like clouds softly bright high overhead, and away to his right the great animal that had roused him from his peaceful sleep.

He went straight to it without hesitation, and as he got close up, the huge beast began to mutter and grumble, and raised its trunk, while the boy felt it creep round his waist like a serpent and hold him tightly.

"What's he going to do next?" thought Glyn. "He must know I'm not Singh. Why doesn't he come? Hasn't hurt himself, has he?"

Just then Singh appeared at their bedroom window, and called to the intruder softly, with the result that the trunk was uncurled, raised in the air, and used like a trumpet, while a shuffling movement suggested that the animal was about to rise.

"Kneel!" cried Singh, and the animal crouched once more.

"Now you get on his neck, and sit there till I come down."

"It's all very well," grumbled Glyn; "but I don't much like the job while you are away."

All the same, the boy did not hesitate, but took hold of the crouching beast's ear, planted the edge of his shoe in one of the wrinkles of the trunk, and climbed into the mahout's place, his steed raising and lowering its ears and muttering and grumbling impatiently as if waiting to be told to rise.

Meanwhile Singh had disappeared from the window, and after what seemed a very long time made his appearance through the door.

"Oh, what a while you have been!" cried Glyn. "Now then, you had better come here and sit on him to hold him down while I go and ring the bell. Here, I say, though, it won't make him think breakfast's ready, will it, and send him scrambling off after buns?"

"No, no, no! Nonsense!" cried Singh.

"Oh, well, if you don't mind, I don't, because I shall be over there. But, all the same, I shouldn't like to see him kick up behind and throw you over his head."

Singh uttered an impatient ejaculation, and began to climb on to the animal's neck.

"No, no," cried Glyn. "I'm going to get off now."

"No; you must wait till I am up there behind you, and then as you get down I'll slide into your place."

"But you will have to tell him to lift up his ears, for he's nipping my legs hard, and they feel as if they were going to hold me down."

"It will be all right," said Singh impatiently, and throwing his right leg over, he came down upon the elephant's neck; while before the boys could grasp what was about to happen, the animal rose and began to turn round, slinging the massive iron peg over the palisade; and then, as he began to move off and the chain tightened, he drew with him eight or ten feet of the ornamental woodwork.

"Oh, what will the Doctor say?" cried Singh piteously.

"That he'll stop your pocket-allowance to pay for it. Here, I say, old chap, do, do something to steer him."

"But I haven't got a—"

"Here, try a pin," cried Glyn, making-believe to pull one out of the bottom corner of his waistcoat.

"But that won't go through his skin."

"No, I suppose not. He'll think you are tickling him. Here, shall I try my knife?"

"No, no, no! It will make him mad."

"But we must do something," cried Glyn, who couldn't sit still for laughing. "Can't you turn his head? We are mowing and harrowing all these flower-beds with this wood-stack he's dragging at his heels. Ah, that's better!" continued Glyn, as, finding the impediment rather unpleasant, the animal turned off at right angles and reached out with its trunk to remove the obstacles attached to its leg.

"Why, we are anchored! Oh, now he's off again. Why, where's he going?"

"I think he's going to make for the hedge where he came through first, in the cricket-field."

"But we couldn't get through there with all this garden-fence. It would catch in the hedge, and we should be dragging that too all through the town."

"Oh, I don't know," cried Singh.

"Let's scramble down and try to stop him. If you take hold of one leg I'll hang on by his tail if I can reach it.—Ah, that's better!"

For the elephant suddenly came to a standstill about a third of the way across the playground.

"Here, he's stopping for something. I wish we were near a baker's shop."

But the elephant had not stopped for nothing but only to balance itself upon three legs while it kicked out with the fourth, making a loud crashing and jangling noise, which was repeated till the length of wooden palisade was broken into splinters. But the chain and picket-peg were as firmly attached as ever, and were dragged steadily across the remaining portion of the playground right for the hedge, which now stood before the boys, displaying not only the demolished reparations, but a good-sized gap as well.

It seemed as if their steed meant to pass straight through, and he did so. The great iron peg got across a couple of tough old stumps of the hawthorn bushes and drew him up short, but only for a few moments; the huge beast putting forth its strength and dragging them out by the roots, after which it turned off to the left, to go on straight through the still sleeping town, making its way in the calmest manner for the show-field at the back of the principal hotel. Here it stopped at last close to the loosened earth from which it had originally wrenched the picket; and then, raising its trunk, blew such a blast that it produced a chaotic burst of sounds from the quadrangle of cages and dens, each creature after its kind joining in the chorus, and rousing and bringing every keeper and labourer attached to the menagerie upon the scene, the last to arrive, eager and smiling, but before anything was done, being the proprietor himself, who came up cheering and waving hat and handkerchief in the air.

"Think of that now!" he cried. "I say, young gentlemen, it all points to it, you see, and you needn't tell me; the old Rajah saw what was right. He only went to fetch you, and you've come to stay."



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"HALT! RIGHT FACE!"

The yellow silk handkerchief was brought a great deal into use by Mr Ramball to dab his head; and once Glyn nudged his schoolfellow's elbow and suggested that the proprietor was going to cry with disappointment from being told that he was labouring under a very grave mistake.

Soon after the two boys slipped away so as to make for the school and excuse themselves for being out of bounds and going out unseen so early in the morning.

They "slipped away" at Ramball's request. "Just walk up and down with me a few times," he said, "till we get on the other side of the caravans. No, not yet," he said. "I have sent one of the men for a big basket of carrots. They are nice and sweet, and his highness likes them. Once get him busy on them and he won't notice you going."

A big two-handled basket made its appearance a few minutes later, piled up with the orange-red vegetables, and carried by a couple of Ramball's men.

"Just give him two or three yourselves, gentlemen," said the proprietor, "and start him on them. Then get behind him and walk right away straight from his tail. You may do anything of that sort, as I dare say you know, without his seeing. Elephants are very stupid beasts about what goes on behind their backs."

The two boys did as requested, and as soon as the elephant was busy they strolled off with its owner, who was very eager to shake hands with them again and beg of them to come to his place.

"Here, I have had enough of this," cried Glyn as soon as they were out of the great field, "and I never thought of it before. What time is it?"

"I don't know," said Singh. "I have left my watch on the dressing-table."

Just then the striking of the church clock fell upon their ears, and Singh began to count aloud, while Glyn expressed his belief that it must be seven.

"Why, all the chaps will be out when we get back," he said.

"Eight!" said Singh loudly.

"Nonsense! You have muddled it," cried Glyn.

"Nine!" cried Singh.

"Rubbish!"

"It is. Look at the shops all open, and the people about."

"Well; but the time couldn't have gone like that," cried Glyn. "Here, what are we going to say? If you are right—why, breakfast's over ever so long ago, and the fellows are all going in to class. But you can't be right."

"Well, there's the clock," said Singh contemptuously. "Look for yourself."

The hands and Roman numerals of the great church clock had only lately been re-gilded, and they seemed to twinkle and blink and point derisively in the bright morning sunshine.

"Oh, I say," cried Glyn, "who could have thought it! Bother old Ramball and his beasts! Feeding his elephant! I wish somebody would feed me! Why, we shall get no breakfast."

"Oh yes, we shall," cried Singh confidently. "Why, you forget we are in the infirmary still, and Mrs Hamton won't let us go without our breakfast. But come along; let's trot back round by the shortest way."

They started the military double directly, and were about half-way back to the school when, as they turned a corner to get into the main road, a sharp military voice shouted:

"Halt! Right face!"

"Father!" cried Glyn.

"Morning," cried the Colonel, as he shook hands warmly with both. "You two invalids having your constitutional? Well, you ought to be taken off the sick-list now. I have just been having my walk before breakfast. I came past the Doctor's, but could not see anything of either of you."

"Going in to breakfast, father?" said Glyn.

"Yes, my boy. You had yours at eight o'clock, I suppose. What time were you up? Seven o'clock, I suppose."

"No, father," said Glyn, laughing. "It must have been about four."

"Four o'clock! What made you get up so soon as that?" cried the Colonel, as he looked from one to the other.

"We were called, father, and obliged to get up." And between them the boys narrated their early morning adventure.

"Tut, tut, tut, tut!" ejaculated the Colonel. "Then you have had no breakfast at all?"

Singh shook his head.

"Come along with me, then," cried the Colonel. "I'll soon put that right."

"Can't, father. We haven't got leave. We shall be punished for breaking out of school."

"Nonsense!" cried his father. "You didn't break out of school. You were carried off. Here, I'll put that right with the Doctor; but there must be no more of this. You lads don't want elephants till you go back to Dour, and that won't be for years to come."

Very shortly afterwards the boys were once more seated at the Colonel's table, to partake of a leisurely breakfast, before he, as he termed it, marched them back like a couple of deserters to the Doctor's establishment.

Wrench looked at them at first wonderingly, and then shook his head as he announced that the boys were all in their classes, and that the Doctor was going round the grounds with the gardener to see what damage was done by the second visit of the elephant; when the Colonel proposed that they should follow and give the boys' version of their adventure.

They came upon him they sought almost directly after, for he had inspected the damaged hedge, and was gazing very ruefully at the broken-down palisade and the torn and trampled flower-beds.

He was busy pointing out the mischief to his companion, for Morris was with him, looking very sympathetic, as he borrowed the Doctor's walking-cane and carried his mathematical studies into daily life and utility by bending down and taking the dimensions of the elephant's great circular foot-prints.

The Doctor frowned as he turned and saw who were approaching; but explanations followed as he rather ponderously led the way into his study, where everything connected with the discipline of his school was always discussed.

"Oh, of course, Colonel Severn," he said, as his visitor took leave. "I hold your ward and son perfectly blameless, and have nothing to say about their absence from my establishment this morning.—But I hope, young gentlemen, that this is the last of these adventures; and I am glad, Colonel, that you met them and made them your guests."

"Unintentionally, my dear sir—unintentionally," said the Colonel stiffly. "I did mean to ask your permission for them to dine with me once more; but after this morning's meeting I shall not do so. We mustn't interfere with the discipline of the school boys," he said. "To-morrow morning I return to town, and probably I shall not see you again for a couple of months. Good-morning, Doctor; good-morning.—You will see me to the door, boys?"

The Doctor smiled and bowed, and the two lads walked past Wrench and then down with the Colonel to the Doctor's gate, where he stood for a few minutes talking.

"That fellow civil and attentive?" he said, giving his Malacca cane a wave in the direction of Wrench.

"Yes, father; very nice and obliging."

"Give him that," said the Colonel, slipping a crown-piece into his son's hand; "and, let's see; you get your month's allowance regularly. Not overrunning the constable, I hope—not getting into debt?"

The boys shook their heads, and after a few words more the Colonel marched off, erect and soldierly, while the boys rather slowly and unwillingly returned to their room to give a finishing touch or two to their rather hasty morning toilet.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE PROFESSOR MAKES A REQUEST.

Morris, being off duty, as he termed it, walked down the road to clear his head a little of mathematical calculations, as well as to devise an examination paper intended for the improvement of his pupils; not that he looked upon it in that light, for as soon as he had mentally got it into shape, ready for committing to paper, he laughed to himself and rubbed his white hands over and over again in his intense satisfaction.

"That will puzzle their brains," he said maliciously. "That will give some of them a headache;" and as he spoke, on his way back, he suddenly awakened to the fact that he was just coming to the damaged hedge, where a couple of men were for the second time, by Ramball's orders, restaking, half-cutting through, and bending down for interlacing purposes sturdy old growths of hawthorn.

The next moment he was conscious of the fact that Professor Barclay, who looked particularly neat, refined, and clean, was coming up to him with a most friendly smile and with extended hand.

The Professor was clean-shaven, wore his hair cut very short, and from his hat to his boots he was spotless; but somehow or other there was a suggestion that the profession of Sanskrit did not result in the possession of wealth, for the Professor's hat was not so new as it had been once, one of his well-polished boots had a smile in its upper leather just where the little toe pressed outwards, there was a suggestion about his very stiff shirt-collar of the growth of saw-like teeth that might be very unpleasant if they came in contact with his ears, while his tightly buttoned-up frock-coat, which looked very nice in front, had grown extremely shiny in two places at the back where the wearer's blade-bones were prominent.

Morris took the extended hand and shook it, but not half so affectionately as the Professor shook his, while agreeing very simply that the day was remarkably fine; and then, oddly enough, Morris, though the Professor gave him no reason for his thoughts in words, began thinking of a quiet little place in the town where modest dinners were provided, one of which Morris did not require in the least, inasmuch as a repast would be provided for him gratuitously in the Doctor's establishment. Item, he began thinking, too, of half-crowns. But his thoughts were turned in another direction by the Professor.

"So this is the spot," he said, "where the elephant broke through?"

"Yes," said Morris eagerly; "great mischievous beast! It will be a good thing when it's out of the town."

"Exactly," said the Professor, "unless the proprietor had some one to manage it who understood its ways. Is it true, as I have heard, that the young Prince and his friend and fellow-pupil controlled the huge beast by giving it orders in Hindustani?"

"Oh yes," said Morris, smiling now, as he ridded himself of thoughts of cheap dinners and half-crowns.

"Well, I am not surprised," continued the Professor; "but it was a pity I was not there."

"Pity you were not there?" said Morris, making a suggestion with his hand preparatory to saying "good-bye—can't stop," and then telling something very much like a fib; for it was in his mind to say, "So glad to have met you."

"Yes," said the Professor nonchalantly, "you see, I know Hindustani thoroughly; and though I suppose my pronunciation would be faulty in the ears of a native, I could very well make myself understood."

"Ah, yes," said Morris hastily; "so I should suppose; but—er—you will excuse me?" And he glanced at his watch. "I am afraid I must be back at the college. It is close upon dinner-time."

The Professor sighed and inadvertently sniffed as poor boys sniff who are passing cookshops.

"In a moment, my dear friend. I will not detain you; but I will walk with you as far as the college. It will be in my way. You see, just when one wants them most, important letters—important pecuniary letters—have such a bad habit of being delayed."

Morris coughed.

"Now, nothing could have happened better for me than that I should have met you, a brother-student; though we follow divergent lines, you for the attainment of mathematical precision, I for the diffusion of Eastern lore, you of all men seem to have extended towards me a kindly interest."

"Oh, well, that was perfectly natural," said Morris feebly, as, inadvertently he thrust his right hand into his pocket, started, coloured, and withdrew it quickly.

"Now," continued the Professor, "I want you to give me your advice about seeing the Doctor again."

Morris shook his head.

"Ah, I see what you are thinking; but that was for a permanent post. Now, don't you think he might accept my services, say, for a non-resident and three days a week?"

"No," said Morris, "I am sure he wouldn't. Your coming made Rampson dreadfully jealous, and he told me afterwards that the Doctor assured him that he should make no change."

"Well, say one day a week."

Morris shook his head again and looked down the road, as if hoping that some one would come and rescue him from his position.

"Don't speak in haste," said the Professor, taking him with finger and thumb by the plaited guard of silk, as if he had intentions upon the watch—not to know the time.

"I am obliged to speak in haste," replied Morris. "You see, it is so near—"

"Exactly—dinner-time. But for Sanskrit, a lesson a week—"

"The Doctor declared he should not introduce Sanskrit in the curriculum of study."

"Dear, dear! And with that young Eastern Prince in the establishment, and his companion the son of that magnificent old Colonel with the wondrous moustache!" And as he spoke the Professor passed his hand over his closely shaven upper lip. "Well, well, the Doctor knows his own business best; but I must confess that I am disappointed, my dear friend."

"I am very, very sorry," said Morris, drawing back a little; and as the guard tightened, and the watch began to rise out of his pocket, he gave way again and the watch sank down.

So did its owner's spirits, for the Professor continued:

"Don't you think I might go back with you to the college and call upon the Doctor once more?"

"No, that I don't," said Morris hastily; "for almost directly he will be going into the dining-hall."

"Well, what would that matter? Country hospitality and—you understand. But there, if you think the time adverse, I certainly would not presume. But, by the way, would you believe it, that letter has not come this morning?"

"Yes," said Morris faintly. "You said so just now."

"And it puts me to the greatest inconvenience. I am almost ashamed to ask you."

"Would that you were quite!" thought Morris.

"But would you mind—say a couple of half-crowns—a mere trifle, and the moment the letter comes—really, I think it must be stuck in the post-office somewhere from wrong direction. Is there another Plymborough in England?"

"Oh no; this is the only one."

"Yes, two half-crowns, and the moment the letter arrives I shall hurry to you to repay you with many thanks, your kindly interest in my welfare."

"And the other two?"

"Oh, of course," said the Professor. "The-ank you. Some day, my dear Morris, I hope and believe—But, by the way, that young Prince: I could not help taking the greatest interest in what he told me. It came naturally as the result of questions and in conversation upon the beauty of Eastern costume. I remember saying to him, 'Why are not you, a young Eastern potentate, robed in the resplendent garments of your country, wearing a picturesque helmet, plumed, and decked with gorgeous jewels? I remember,' I said, 'a visit paid by the Nawab of Puttyputty when I was one of the masters at the college at Longbourne. He was magnificently dressed, a most picturesque figure amongst the gentlemen, who in their sombre black looked like so many waiters. I remember he wore a resplendent belt, the clasps of which were formed of gigantic emeralds engraved with Eastern characters—Sanskrit, I believe, though I never had them in my hand.' And the boy proudly told me that he possessed just such a one, though he never wore it, because it would not be suitable with modern English costume. All a boy's romance, I suppose— recollections of the Arabian Nights."

"Oh no," said Morris; "it is quite true."

"Dear me," said the Professor, "what an opportunity! Why, I would give worlds to see it," he added with a laugh. "It has been one of the regrets of my life that I did not ask the Nawab's permission to inspect those clasps. To my thinking, the inscriptions must have been of that so-called talismanic kind in which these weak heathen believe. Now, do you think it possible that you could prevail upon your young friend—"

"Oh no, I am sure I couldn't," said Morris, trying hard to read the distant church clock.

"But say you convey to him my invitation, and ask him to bring the belt to my rooms one afternoon."

"Oh, really I—"

"Oh, such a simple thing—educational, and—I beg your pardon, you must go? Of course. I am afraid I have been prolix; but my dear Morris, bear that in mind. A little discussion upon those inscriptions would be beneficial to the boy—I could tell him things he would be proud to know—and it would enable me to send a profitable description to the newspapers.—Yes, good-bye till we meet again."

They separated, and the Professor walked slowly away, with his attention equally balanced between recollections of the Nawab's clasps and the last little dinner he had eaten at the country refreshment-house at Morris's expense, what time he played a pleasant little game of raising one half-crown from where it lay upon its fellow at the bottom of his pocket and letting it fall again with an agreeable chink.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

"WHERE'S MY PRACTICE-BAT?"

The Doctor was quite facetious one morning, for, in addressing the masters, his words being meant for the whole school, he said jocularly that if Severn and Singh had formed any intention of devoting their pocket-allowance to ordering a castle from London they were too late. He looked very hard at Morris as he spoke, and waited for him to reply.

"A castle, sir?" said the master. "I don't quite apprehend your meaning."

"Oh, it was only this, Mr Morris. My mind does not serve me as to what these things are called in India; but I think, and I dare say Mr Rampson will set me right if I am wrong, that in the old classic days in the Punic or Carthaginian wars what were termed castles were fitted on to the backs of elephants, from which archers, slingers, and javelin-throwers dealt out destruction among their foes."

"Yes, sir. Quite correct, sir," said Rampson, "for Pliny states—"

"Oh, I don't think we will disturb Pliny to-day, Mr Rampson," said the Doctor, smiling, "unless your pupils particularly wish it," and he glanced round the school.

"No, sir!"

"No, sir!"

"No, sir!" came in chorus.

"Very well, gentlemen; then Pliny shall be left at rest. It occurred to me that if there was to be much more of the pursuit of elephant-riding as displayed by Messrs. Severn and Singh, a castle, such, I presume, as is kept in record by a celebrated hostelry somewhere in the south of London, where, upon one occasion, I stepped into one of those popular modes of conveyance called omnibuses, would be much more suitable for a mode of progression than the animal's neck. A very slight study of the human anatomy would satisfy the most exacting that nature never intended youths of fifteen or sixteen to strain their muscles after the fashion of acrobats, so as to enable them to bestride an elephant's spine."

There was a low titter at this, and every eye was turned upon Glyn and Singh, the latter turning very red.

"By the way, Mr Singh," continued the Doctor, "you have a colloquial term for the form of castle used in India, have you not?"

The word colloquial seemed to puzzle Singh, who remained silent, and Glyn spoke up.

"Howdah, sir!" he shouted.

"How dare you, sir!" cried the Doctor, with mock indignation; and then he looked smilingly round for appreciation of his pun, which was not seen till Morris expounded it.

Then there was a roar. While he waited patiently enough, the Doctor took off his gold-rimmed spectacles, drew a neatly folded white handkerchief from his pocket, shook it out, breathed upon the glasses, and polished them, kept on holding them to the light to make sure that there was not the symptom of a blur, and as soon as the laughter had died out he exclaimed, "Because—"

There was a dead silence, the boys large and small glancing at one another in a questioning way as if asking whether this was the beginning of another mild joke or a bit of facetiae that ought to be laughed at as it stood.

"Because—" said the Doctor again, more loudly than before, and he seemed, as he glanced round, to direct his words at every boy in turn.

"Because, gentlemen—" This time the Doctor looked hard at the masters, and then continued loudly, "it seems as if I am to be allowed to possess my boarders in peace, the quickset hedge is not to be torn-up any more, the split oak palings on the farther side are to remain untouched. To be brief, I am informed upon the best authority that the visit of Ramball's menagerie is at an end. So now, Mr Singh, you may close up your repertoire of Hindustani words, and condescend to plain English with an occasional garnish from the classic writers of old. We will now resume our studies."

All traces of excitement seemed to give way now to the humdrum routine of school-life. This, however, was diversified with plenty of cricket, Slegge posing in every match as the chief batsman and captain of the eleven.

But he had to work hard to keep up his position in his own particular speciality, which was that of slogging batsman, for he was a bad bowler, too cowardly to keep a wicket, and too big, heavy, and lazy to field.

At the same time he was too jealous and vain to let others step in and help themselves to some of his laurels, notably the two young Indians, as he called them, for none of the older lads, his fellow-pupils for years past, ever dreamed of disputing his position. But both Glyn and Singh, untroubled by a thought of giving way to the older boy, proved themselves a splendid addition to the eleven that was picked from time to time to combat the town players or some other school.

To Slegge's annoyance, he very soon found that if the prestige of the school was to be kept up Glyn and Singh must be in the eleven, for the former in a very short time was acknowledged to be the sharpest bowler in the school, while, from long practice together, Singh was an admirable wicket-keeper—one who laughed at gloves and pads, was utterly without fear, and had, as Wrench said—he being a great admirer of a game in which he never had a chance to play—"a nye like a nork."

"But they can't beat me at batting," Slegge said to himself grimly, and he worked at his practice like a slave. But as a slave he made others slave—to wit, all the small unfortunates who took his fancy.

"You needn't grumble, you lazy little beggars," he used to say. "Nasty, ungrateful little beasts! See what bowlers I'm making of you, and what fielders!"

And in his manufacture of cricketers he would have out five or six at a time, with three or four cricket-balls, to keep on bowling to him while he went on slogging and hitting the balls in all directions, utterly reckless of the poor little fellows' exhaustion and of the risks they ran, as he drove or cut the balls right at them or far away over the field.

The natural result was that in regular play Slegge's score always mounted up when he was not opposed to Glyn and Singh, when there was generally what the delighted younger boys denominated a "swodge of rows;" while Slegge himself, always ready to pick a quarrel, never now attempted to settle it with fists, but he fought pretty hard with his tongue, and always declared that there was "a beastly conspiracy."

Possibly there was; but it was only between the two friends, who strove their best to put him out, the one by a clean ball which sent stumps and bails flying, the other by laying his wicket low with a sharp movement when Slegge's long legs had, in his excitement carried him off his ground.

One morning there was a little meeting held under the elms by twelve of the very junior juniors, for they had found out a malicious act on the part of their tyrant, or rather he had openly boasted of it himself, and not only showed the little fellows visually what he had done to his practice-bat, as he called it, but also awakened them thoroughly to his play.

"'Tisn't fair," said one of them. "I vote we lay it all before Burney and Severn and Hot Pickles."

"No," said another, "it isn't fair. He couldn't do it off Glyn Severn's bowling; not that we chaps bowl badly. Severn calls some of us toppers, and last week and several times since he put me up to giving the balls a twist. You know; you saw—those long-pitched balls that drop in as quiet as a mouse, and look as if they are going wide, but curl in round the end of a fellow's bat, just tap a stump, and down go the bails before he knows where he is."

"Yes; but I don't see much good in that," said another. "You didn't take much out of it yesterday when you put old Shanks's wicket down, and he gave you a lick on the head for it."

"I don't care if he'd given me a dozen," said the little fellow with a grin. "I took old Bully Bounce's wicket. Oh, didn't it make him wild!"

"Yes; but it isn't fair, as I said before," cried the first speaker. "He could do what he liked with our bowling before, but now we have got to run nearly off our legs to fetch up fivers. I say it isn't fair. He must have got half-a-pound of lead let into the end of his bat. Took it down to the carpenter's, he did, and made old Gluepot bore three holes in the bottom with a centre-bit, pour in a lot of melted lead, and then plug the bottom up again with wood."

"Here, I know," said one; "let's watch for our chance, and get Wrench— he'll keep it a secret; he hates Longshanks—let's ask him to make a fire under the wash-house copper, and one of us could do it I'll volunteer. I'll smuggle out Slegge's bat, and it wouldn't take long. Just hold it on the fire where it's hottest, and the lead would all melt and run out."

"And what about the end of the bat?" said another.

"Well, it would be all light again, just the same as it was before."

"Light?" cried the objector. "Why, it would be all black. The wood would all burn away before the fire got to the lead."

"Would it?" said the inventor of the scheme thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose it would. But we must do something."

This was agreed to nem con, and, after a long meeting for boys, their faces indicated a satisfactory termination of their debate.

That something had been done was proved two days later, for the intervening day had been wet; and as usual, on the second day, when it was time to turn out in the grounds, Slegge ordered up his little band of slaves and marched them to the cricket-shed for the necessary implements. Half-a-dozen balls were got out of one locker, the stumps and bails from another, and from his own particular lock-up, flap-topped receptacle, Slegge proceeded to take out the special bat with which he practised hitting—two more, his club-bat and his match-bat, lying there in their cases of green flannel.

Taking his key, one of a bunch, from his pocket, Slegge proceeded to unlock the flap-topped cupboard; but somehow the key would not go in, and he withdrew it, and under the impression that he had made a wrong selection he passed another along the ring and tried that. This was worse, and he tried a third, before withdrawing it, blowing into the pipe, and making it whistle, and then tapping it and bringing forth a few grains of sand.

"Here, what game's this?" shouted the big fellow in what his enemies called a bubble-and-squeak voice, due to the fact that in the change that was taking place his tones were an awkward mingling of treble and bass; and as he spoke he seized the boy nearest to him by the ear.

"Oh, please don't, sir! Please don't! Please don't! I haven't done nothing!"

"Done nothing, you little vermin!" shouted Slegge. "Who said you had? But you've done something. Now, don't deny it, for I'll half-skin you. You can't deceive me. You have been blowing this lock full of sand and gravel with a pea-shooter."

"I haven't, sir; I haven't indeed!" cried the boy.

"Then tell me who has?" cried Slegge; and, seizing the boy's fingers, he held his hand, palm downwards, on the top of the locker, and then began to torture him by sawing the knuckles of his own doubled fist across the back.

The boy squealed and yelped, but bore the inquisition-like torture bravely enough.

Nothing was got out of him, however; and, getting between the boys and the door of the shed, Slegge tortured one after the other, but could not find a traitor to impeach the rest. And at last, in a fit of rage, he stepped back and with a furious kick sent the lid of the locker flying upwards; while, tearful though some of the eyes of the lookers-on were, they were full of a strange kind of exultation as they glanced at one another and waited for the denouement that was to come.

As Slegge saw the result of his kick to the heavy lid, he stepped quickly forward and thrust in his right hand to withdraw the bat; but he uttered a yell, for the great cover rebounded and came down with a bang, sending one of the little fellows skimming out of the shed to get round to the back so that his laughter should not be seen.

"That's one for you, Burton, when I get hold of you again," cried Slegge. "I shan't forget it. And—here, what's the meaning of this? Where's my practice-bat?"

There was a dead silence in the shady, wooden room, and three or four of the boys stood looking as if they were going to have apoplectic fits, for their eyes started and their teeth were clenched together, and they seemed as if they were trying to swallow something.

But there was no danger. It was only bottled-up mirth that they were striving hard to suppress.

"Ugh-h-h-ugh!" snarled Slegge, making a rush at the boys, who scattered at once, dashed out of the door before any of them were seized, and ran as if for their lives, to begin shrieking with laughter as soon as they were out of reach.

In his rage at what he looked upon as a theft, Slegge chased first one and then another; but he was too big, heavy, and clumsy to catch the delighted imps, who, as active as monkeys, dodged him at every turn, till at last he stood panting.

"All right," he said. "I am not going to make myself hot with running after you; but the Doctor's going to know that he has got thieves in the school. I am not going to be robbed for nothing, and if my practice-bat is not back in its place before night I shall go and tell Bewley that he's got blackguards and fellows who use false keys in his school. So you'd better look sharp and bring that bat back. And here, mind this; the carpenter will charge six or seven shillings for putting on a new lock here, so you have got to find sixpence apiece before Saturday night and hand it over to me."

But in spite of threats the bat was not brought back nor its purloiner or annexer betrayed. The bat was gone, and its owner's practice was modified, for he did not care to improve the driving power of his first-class bats by having them bored and weighted with lead.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

WRENCH IS CONFIDENTIAL.

The Doctor was very fond of lecturing the boys on the beneficial qualities of water.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I pass no stern edicts or objections to the use of beer, and for those who like to drink it there is the ale of my table, which is of a nature that will do harm to no one"—which was perfectly true—"but I maintain that water—good, pure, clear, bright, sparkling spring water—is the natural drink of man. And being the natural drink of man, ergo—or, as our great national poet Shakespeare puts the word in the mouth of one of his clowns, argal—it is the natural drink of boys."

As he spoke, the Doctor poured out from a ground-glass decanter-like bottle a tumblerful of clear cold water, which he treated as if it were beer, making it bubble and foam for a moment before it subsided in the glass.

The Doctor said good, pure, sparkling water, and the supply of the school possessed these qualities, for it came from a deep draw-well that went right down, cased in brick, for about forty feet, while for sixty feet more it was cut through the solid stone.

The Doctor was very particular about this well, which was furnished with a mechanical arrangement of winch and barrel, which sent down one big, heavy bucket as the winder worked and brought up another full; and it was Wrench's special task to draw the drinking-water from this well for the whole of the school, that used for domestic purposes coming from two different sources—one an ordinary well, and the other a gigantic soft-water tank.

One morning early, after Singh and Glyn descended from their dormitory, and were strolling down towards the Doctor's neatly-kept garden by a way which led them past the well-house, they stopped to listen to a clear musical pipe that was accompanied by the creaking of a wheel and the splash of water.

The pipe proved to be only Wrench the footman's whistle, and its effect was that of a well-played piccolo flute, as it kept on giving the boys the benefit of a popular air with variations, which stopped suddenly as the big full bucket reached the surface and was drawn sideways on to a ledge by the man, while a hollow musical dripping and tinkling went on as a portion of the superfluous water fell splashing back into the depths.

As Wrench uttered a grunt and proceeded to fill the water-can he had brought and a couple of jugs, he turned slightly and saw that the shadow cast into the cool, moist-smelling interior was that of the two boys.

"Morning, gentlemen," he said. "What do you think of this for weather?"

"Lovely," cried Glyn. "Why, Wrench, you beat the blackbirds."

"Oh, nonsense, sir! I have often tried; but I can't get their nice soft, sweet notes."

"No; but your whistle is of a different kind.—It's beautiful; isn't it, Singh?"

"Yes; it's just like those minas that we have got at home.—Give me a glass of water."

"Haven't got a glass, sir, only a mug. Here, I'll run and fetch you one."

"No, no," cried Singh, and taking up the mug he held it to be filled and then drank heartily, Glyn following his example.

"Beautiful clear water, young gentlemen, isn't it?" said the man. "The Doctor says it will make you strong, and there's iron enough in it to do any man good. I should like to have a well like that in my place when I start for myself. I should put out bills about it and call it mineral water, same as the Doctor says this is."

"How deep is the well really?"

"Just a hundred foot, sir."

"How do you know? You haven't measured it."

"Well, I measured the rope, sir. When the Doctor bought a new one for it, just a year ago, he let me fit it on instead of getting the workpeople in. That cost nothing, and the men would have made a regular job of it."

"But I meant the water. How deep is the water itself?"

"Oh, the water, sir. That gets to be about twenty or thirty feet in the winter-time; but in the summer it gets very low—in the dry time, you know. I don't suppose there's above six or eight feet in now."

"But I say," cried Glyn, "set up for yourself? Why, you're not going to start a school?"

"School, sir?" said the man, laughing. "'Tain't likely! No, sir; me and somebody—never you mind who—is going to be married one of these days, when we have saved up enough, and we are going to take a house at the seaside and let lodgings to visitors who come down for their health. Why, a well of water like that would be the making of us."

"Oh!" cried Glyn, with his eyes twinkling. "You with your somebody and your never mind who! Why, I have found you out, Wrenchy. I know who the lady is."

"Lady she is, sir," said the man sharply, "and right you are, though she's only poor and belongs to my station of life. But, begging your pardon, with all your Latin and Greek and study, you haven't found that out."

"That I have," cried Glyn. "It's the cook."

The man turned scarlet and stood gazing at the boy with his mouth a little way open.

"Why, who telled you, sir?" he stammered at last.

"She did," said Glyn quietly.

"What! My Emily told you that?" cried the man. "In them same words?"

"No; she never spoke to me in my life," replied Glyn. "Singh and I were going down the garden one day, down one path, and she'd been to get some parsley, while you were carrying in one of the garden chairs, and she looked at you. That was enough, and we two laughed about it afterwards. So you see we know."

"Well, I always did say as you was two sharp uns, sir," said the man. And then confidentially, "Yes, sir, that's right. We have been thinking about it for the last five years, and we'd like it to come off at any time. For, you see, it's just the same with us, sir, as it is with rich people—I mean, well-to-do people. It don't do to get married until you see your way."