"Let's have another look round," suggested Fisher. So once more the study was turned topsy-turvy, and every nook and cranny searched. But no money was there, nor any sign of it.

The captain looked grave.

"It's precious awkward," said he.

"It's sure to turn up," said Fisher. "I'll go over the whole thing again, and have the room searched."

"Meanwhile," said Ranger, "it's to be hoped no questions are asked by the fellows opposite."

"Not much chance; I hear they are none of them going to turn up," said Dalton.

"That's their look-out," responded the captain.

Much to their disgust, Ashby and Fisher minor were summoned from the vicinity of the shop that morning to assist the treasurer in his hopeless search. They did not mind turning a study upside down on their own account, but they strongly objected to have to do it for any one else.

Fisher major did not at first vouchsafe much information with regard to the missing object.

"Look round everywhere," said he, "and see if you see anything."

Ashby looked, and said he saw a lot of things.

"I mean money, of course," said the treasurer.

Whereupon the two simultaneously made a grab at the loose cash on the table, declaring they had found it first go off.

"No—not that. It's some that's missing."

"How much?" asked Ashby.

"Never mind—a pound or two."

"Are you sure it's about in the room?"

"That's what I want you to look and see, you young donkey!"

"Two pounds," said Ashby; "was it all in silver?"

"No—it was three or four pounds—about L4 10. I don't know what it was in."

"Four pound ten—that's a lot," said the young brother. "I thought you said you were hard up?"

"So I did. It's not my money, but the club's. What's that to do with it? I want you to see if you can find it while I'm down in class."

Whereupon they set to work. They emptied the contents of every drawer in a glorious heap on the floor. They shook out his socks, and turned the pockets of all his coats inside out. They pulled his bed about the room, and shook out all his sheets. They raked out his fire, and prised up a loose board in the floor. They emptied his basins into his bath, and investigated the works of his eight-day clock. But high or low they could find no money.

Fisher's study did not get over that morning's quest in a hurry. When the owner returned, he wished devoutly he had never been ass enough to confide the task to a couple of raw Goths like these. Whatever chance there may have been before of discovering any mislaid article, it was now hopelessly and irredeemably gone.

He dismissed the two youngsters with a kick, which they felt to be very ungrateful after all the trouble they had taken. Limp in spirits and grimy in personal appearance, they crawled away to the shop to console themselves with ginger-beer and a cheese-cake.

"Hullo," said Lickford, as they arrived, "what have you been up to? Sweeping the chimneys? I heard they wanted it on your side. What'll you have? We've been doing prime. Where have you been?"

"We've been hunting about in my senior's study for some club money that's lost; about four pou—"

"Shut up!" said Ashby, nudging his companion. "What do you want to blab all over the place about it for?"

"How much?—four pounds?" said a voice near; and looking round, to their horror they saw Dangle.

"All right," said Ashby, trying to save the situation, "it's bound to turn up. He stuck it in a specially safe place, and can't remember where. Look sharp with the ginger-beer, young Lickford."

"Money down first," said Lickford. "Catch me trusting any of you Classic chaps with tick! You've got no tin generally, to begin with, and then you go and lose it."

"That's better than stealing it," retorted Ashby.

"The thing is," said Dangle, breaking in on these pleasant recriminations, "it wouldn't matter if it was Fisher's own money that was lost. But it belongs to all of us."

"I tell you he's found it by now," said Ashby. Then, turning to Fisher minor, he whispered, "you howling young ass, you've done it! Now there'll be a regular row, and your brother will have you to thank for it!"

"Don't blame him," said Dangle. "It's quite right of him to tell the truth."

With which highly moral pronouncement the Modern senior strolled away.

Lickford was too much engrossed by a sudden influx of customers to improve the occasion; and Fisher minor, who never enjoyed ginger-beer less in his life, was allowed to depart in peace to meditate on the evil of his ways, and the possible hot water he had been preparing for his brother.

He had sense enough to reflect that he had better make a clean breast of it to his brother at once.

To his surprise, the latter took the news that Dangle had heard of the deficiency in the accounts more quietly than he had expected.

"I do wish you'd hold your tongue out of doors about things that don't concern you," said he.

"Will Dangle get you into a row?" asked Fisher minor.

"Dangle? I'm not responsible to him more than to any one else. The money's lost; and unless I can find it or make out where the mistake comes in, I shall have to stump up—that's all."

"But, I say, you haven't got money enough," said the boy.

"I know that, you young duffer."

"Whatever will you do?"

Fisher major laughed.

"I shan't steal it, if that's any comfort to you; and I shan't cook the accounts."

"I say, I wonder if Rollitt could lend it you. He must have some money, for he paid for Widow Wisdom's new boat, you know."

"I heard of that. I wish I saw my way to paying my debts as well as he did."

"I say, shall I ask him?"

"Certainly not. The best thing you can do is to shut up."

Fisher minor felt very grateful to his brother for not thrashing him, and went in to afternoon school meekly, though out of spirits.

"Well," said D'Arcy, as he took his place, "what's the latest? Who are you going to get into a mess now! Has Yorke been swindling anybody lately, or Ranger been getting tight! You're bound to have some story about somebody."

"I didn't mean— It's not wicked to lose money," pleaded Fisher minor. "I never thought—"

"That's just it," said Wally. "You couldn't if you tried. Dangle will make a nice thing out of it, thanks to you. Classic treasurer been and collared Modern boys' money—that sort of thing—and they'll kick him out and stick in one of their own lot, and call it triumph of honesty. Oh, you beauty; you can do things nicely when you try?"

"I wish I'd never come up here at all," moaned Fisher minor.

"Humph. That would have been a bad go for Fellsgarth," said D'Arcy. "Shut up—Forder's looking. If we're lagged we shan't get in to the meeting."

The dreaded misadventure did not occur; and punctually at the hour our four young gentlemen trooped into Hall. Everything was very quiet there. The place was only half full. The Classics had turned up in force, but the mutineering house was so far unrepresented. Presently, however, five juvenile figures might be seen marching arm in arm across the Green, keeping a sharp look-out on every side.

Before they arrived in Hall, a solitary figure wearing the Modern colours had made his way up to the seniors' end. It was Corder, looking very limp and haggard, and with a savage flash of the eyes which told how ill "Coventry" was agreeing with his spirits. The cheers, with which he was greeted, due quite as much to his pluck in coming to-day as to his exploit at the match last Saturday, appeared to disconcert rather than please him, and he took a corner seat as far as possible from the Classic seniors present. When, however, Percy and Co. entered the Hall, a much livelier demonstration ensued. Cheers and compliments and pats on the back showered fast on the youthful "blacklegs," and tended greatly to exaggerate in their own eyes the importance of their action.

"We shall get jolly well welted for it, you fellows," said Percy, with all the swagger of a popular martyr. "Never mind; we aren't going to be done out of Hall for anybody."

"At any rate, they won't hurt you for it," cried Wally, disparaging. "Kids like you won't hurt."

"We've come to see you cads don't get it all your own way," said Cash. "That's what we've come for!"

"Ho, ho! Hope you've brought your lunch. You'll be kept here a day or two, if you're going to wait for that!"

When Yorke and the other prefects arrived on the scene there were, of course, loud cheers; but as the opposition was not there to make any counter-demonstration, it was not quite as noisy as on former occasions.

Percy did, indeed, attempt to get up a little opposition at this stage by calling for "three cheers for the Moderns"; but as he was left to give them by himself—even his own adherents declining to be drawn into cheers for Clapperton—the display fell rather flat.

The captain's speech was short and to the point. Of course they knew why the meeting was called. There had been mutiny at Fellsgarth. Fellows had deliberately set themselves against his authority as captain, which was a minor thing, and against the success of Fellsgarth in sports, which was a low and shabby thing. (Cheers.) He wasn't going to mention names; but he meant to say this, that they had much better dissolve the club right away—(No, no)—than not all pull together. Last Saturday, as every one knew, they had been left utterly in the lurch; and but for good luck, and the good play of some of the fifteen— amongst whom, he was glad to say, was one fellow who had had the pluck to act on his own judgment of what was due to the School—(loud and prolonged cheers, in the midst of which Corder perked up, and looked pleased)—they had held their own with a very scratch team. They couldn't expect to do as much again—(Why not?)—and it was not fair to the School to play matches without all their best men in the team. The proposal he had to make was that unless the fellows now standing out chose to return to their allegiance to the School within a week, all future matches for the term should be scratched, and the club dissolved.

The captain's proposal caused considerable consternation. Ridgway rose, and said he considered the motion dealt far too leniently with the mutineers. He would say, drum them out of the club, and reorganise without them.

Denton asked if it would not be more honest and straightforward to summon them to the next match, and if they didn't turn up give them the thrashing they deserved?

Fisher major said he supported the captain's proposal. It was nonsense their playing with scratch teams, and letting it be supposed that was the best the School could do. Some of the fellows on strike were no doubt good players, and that made it all the more discreditable of them to try to damage the School record by crippling the team. They no doubt hoped that they would be begged to rejoin on their—own terms. Rather than that, he was in favour of disbanding the club, and letting the fellows devote their energy to running and jumping, and other sports, where each fellow could distinguish himself independently of what any others chose to do. (Hear, hear.)

Ranger also supported Yorke's motion. Very likely the mutineers would crow, and say the club couldn't get on without them. No more they could, in a sense. But he, for one, was not going to ask them to come back, and would sooner break up the club, and let them have the satisfaction of knowing they had injured Fellsgarth.

Amid loud cheers Corder followed. He was sorry, he said, there was to be no more football, but supposed there was nothing else they could do. He was glad to see some Moderns present, even though they were only juniors. (Laughter.) It showed that there were some fellows on the Modern side that stuck by the School. He fancied these youngsters could take care of themselves. He was glad to hear a human voice again. (Laughter.) It might be fun to some present, but he could assure them it was none to him. No one had spoken to him for four days. He was cut by his house, and had to thank even some of the juniors present for assisting to make his life in Forder's miserable. He didn't care much, so far. They might make him cave in, in the long run. (No! Stick out!) Let the fellow who cried "Stick out," come and try it. His only offence had been that he had played for the School. To do anything for the School was now considered a crime on the Modern side. (Shame.) Anyhow, he should vote for the captain's motion; and though he wasn't particularly sweet on the Classics as a body, he was beginning to think they weren't quite as bad as his own side.

Percy hereupon rose, amid derisive cheers. He didn't know why the names of him and his lot had been brought in; but he just wanted to say that they were here to-day because they had a right to come, and weren't going to be kept out by anybody—not if they knew it. (Rather not!) He and his lot thought there wasn't much to choose between anybody, especially the juniors of the Classic side, who thought they were jolly clever, but were about the biggest stuck-uppest louts he— (Order. Kick him out.) He hoped the meeting would rally round the School shop, where every one was treated alike, and got the best grub for the money of any school going. They were going to get some Ribston— (Order. Time.) All right. They shouldn't hear what he was going to say now. (Loud cheers.)

Yorke said they all seemed to be pretty much of the same mind; and he would put his motion to the vote.

This accordingly was done, and carried without a dissentient voice.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

A BELEAGUERED GARRISON.

The decision arrived at by the club meeting speedily came to the ears of the recalcitrant Moderns, and by no means pleased them. They had expected at least that some one would propose that they should be met half-way, and appealed to, for the sake of the School, to abandon their attitude. That would have given them an opportunity of figuring in an heroic light before Fellsgarth, and showing how, for the general good, they could afford even to overlook the slight which had been put upon them.

But now, so far from that, they figured as the party who had wrecked the School clubs for the sake of a petty pique, and in their absence had been quietly deposed along with every one else from office and privilege, and left looking uncommonly foolish and uncommonly ridiculous.

Yorke himself hardly realised, when he made his downright motion, that he was dealing the hardest blow possible at the mutiny. A mutiny is all very well as long as there is some one to mutiny against. But now, even this luxury was denied them.

Naturally the wrath of Clapperton and his friends fell on the traitors in their own camp whose presence at the meeting had made it impossible to discredit it as entirely one-sided in its composition.

That Corder would go, every one was prepared for. He had laid up for himself yet one more rod in pickle, and should punctually taste its quality.

But the mutiny of the juniors was a surprise. No one imagined that their threats at revolt were anything more than the ordinary bluster in which these young braves notoriously dealt. Had they sinned in ignorance it would have mattered less. But they had gone to the meeting in deliberate defiance of their captain's order, and in the face of his warning as to what the consequences of disobedience would be.

The discipline of the house was at an end if a flagrant act of insubordination like this was to be allowed to pass unnoticed. Besides, if allowed to spread, other fellows would go over to the enemy, and the "moral" effect of the strike would be at an end.

A peremptory summons was therefore dispatched to Percy and his friends to appear before the prefects of their house that same evening.

"That all?" inquired Percy of the middle-boy who brought the message. "We hear you. You needn't stop."

"I'll tell him you'll come?" said the messenger.

"I don't mind what you tell him. Cut out of our room, that's all. We aren't particular, me and my chaps; but we draw the line at louts."

"He says if you don't come—"

"What's to prevent him saying anything he likes? Look here, young Gamble," (Gamble was at least two years the senior of any boy present), "if you don't cut your sticks, they'll be cut for you. So there."

Gamble gave a general invitation to the party to come and try to tamper with his sticks, and departed with a final caution as to the desirability of obeying their captain.

"Lick," said Percy, when he had gone, "how much grub have we got in the room?"

"What are you talking about? You aren't hungry surely, after that go-in at the shop?"

"Have we got enough for two days?"

The party opened their eyes, and began to suspect the drift of the inquiry.

"No; but Maynard owes us a loaf, and Spanker some butter, and those kids in Reynolds' study half a tongue."

"All right; go out and get it all in, sharp. Scrape up all you can."

"What, are we going to have a blockade?"

"Rather. You don't suppose we're going to cave in to Clapperton, do you?"

"But we shan't want enough for two days, shall we?"

"Shan't we, that's all! To-morrow's exeat day, and no school. Next day's Sunday, and next day exeat doesn't end till twelve. We may have to stick out three days."

"Whew! we shall want a lot of grub," said Cash.

"You young pig; that's all you think about. You'll have to go on jolly short rations, I can promise you. Do you know what we're going to do?"

No one had an idea what they were going to do.

"Do you know those four Classic kids," said Percy, "my younger brother and his lot? They've not been quite such cads lately as they used to be, have they?"

"They've been a bit more civil," said Cottle. "I suppose that's because of the shop."

"What about them?" asked Ramshaw.

"Why, I fancy if we asked them, they might come over and back us up. Of course they'd have to bring their own grub; and we'd kick them out if they weren't civil. What do you say?"

"Rather a lark," said Lickford.

"All serene. I'll go and see about it. Keep it dark, whatever you do, and mind you scrape up all the grub that's owing us. There's no time to lose, I say; Clapperton expects us in half an hour. Wire in!"

By the end of half an hour the larder had been fairly well replenished. Lickford and Cash had gone round on a general raid; recovering by force, where persuasion failed, their outstanding loans, and in other cases borrowing additional supplies in the same genial manner. Among other booty, they secured a tin of pressed beef from Spanker, who had to be clouted on the head before he would "lend it," and some sardines from another boy, who was thankful to find any one to take them off his hands at any price.

Cottle and Ramshaw, acting on sealed orders from their leader, had been round borrowing a screw-driver and screws, a few yards of rope, and other material of war, among which was a squirt belonging to Reynolds, who had been pleased to "swap" it for a couple of Greek stamps which Cottle had to dispose of.

Many were the fears lest not only should Percy fail to secure the services of the Classic juniors, but should himself be too late to take part in the siege. However, much to their relief, this was not so; as presently he came over arm in arm with Wally (who carried a parcel under his arm), followed at a respectful distance by D'Arcy, Ashby, and Fisher minor, the bulkiness of whose pockets gave promise of a further addition to the sinews of war.

By general consent the visitors slipped in, not in a body, but casually one by one, and so escaped special observation. As soon as they were all assembled, Percy gave the order to screw up, and pile on the barricades.

Wally, who was disposed to be patronising, snuffed up somewhat at his brother's calm assumption of the command.

"Why didn't you say you wanted screws?" said he; "we've got one or two long ones. That's not the way to stick it in, young Lickford; make the hole more sideways. Here, I'll do it for you."

"I'll tell you what," said D'Arcy, "you chaps had better begin to move up the bed against the door, in case they come before we're fast in. Fire away. Stick it close up, and young Lickford can stand on to it to put in the screw."

"Come on, Cash; stick these parcels out of the way," said Ashby, handing out the provender; "they'll be better in the cupboard. Mind how you put them in."

"You've got a knife, Cottle," said Fisher minor. "Cut these bits of wood into wedges to go under the door. They'll make it pretty secure."

In this manner the Classic auxiliaries coolly took charge of the arrangements before ever their hosts had time to realise that they had been relegated to a back seat.

However, just now there was no time for arguing questions of precedence and authority. The enemy might be upon them at any moment, and they had a lot to do before their outworks could be said to be in a proper state of defence.

The screws in the door were driven hard home into the wainscot; the wedges underneath were tightly fixed. The bed, with bedding complete, was drawn against the entry. A second line of defence was thrown up of chairs, chest of drawers, book-case, and wash-stand. Beyond that were stacked against the wall cricket bats, stumps, boxing-gloves, and other dangerous-looking implements, for use in a last emergency. At Percy's suggestion, and under Wally's direction, an additional loophole was bored in the panel of the door (in flagrant forgetfulness of the rights of School property), through which, as well as through the ventilating holes above, the enemy might be reconnoitred and operated on.

These preliminaries being complete, and Fisher minor having been perched on the table (which was on the bed), with his eye to the loophole, the company, to pass the time, resolved itself into a committee on the School shop, and waited anxiously for the attack.

Percy was specially anxious, for he had enlisted his four recruits on the distinct understanding there would be a row, and all the blame would fall on his head if by any ill-luck the evening passed off quietly.

Already the Classic juniors were beginning to get impatient, and hinting that they saw no fun in the proceeding so far, when Fisher minor scrambled down from his perch and cried:

"Sh!—here comes somebody."

"About time," said Wally, taking possession of the squirt.

As he spoke, the footsteps halted at the door, and the handle turned.

"Lie low, you chaps," whispered Percy. "Don't let them know you're here to begin with. Hullo! who's that?"

"Let me in!" cried Gamble, outside.

"Can't; we're busy," replied Lickford.

"We've got a committee meeting, and you'd better cut," cried Percy.

"Do you hear?" replied the ambassador; "let me in."

"There's plenty of room in your own study, ain't there? Why don't you go there? We don't want you here."

"Cut your sticks, and learn your rotten Modern lessons," shouted Wally, who began to be tired of being a listener.

Luckily, Cottle knocked over one of the chairs at this juncture, which served to conceal the voice of the speaker from the ears outside.

"All right," said Gamble; "you'll catch it. Clapperton sent me to tell you if you don't come to his room directly, he'll come and fetch you himself. There!"

"Good evening," cried Ramshaw. "Our love to them all at home."

D'Arcy, meanwhile, had mounted the bed, and by means of a pea-shooter materially assisted in the departure of the discomfited envoy.

"Now we're getting livery," said Wally, proceeding to load his squirt out of the jug. "Better light the candle, one of you, and have some light on the subject."

A terrible discovery ensued. Neither candle nor matches could be found! In a quarter of an hour daylight would depart, and after that—well, the prospect was not brilliant, at any rate. However, there was no time to do anything but recriminate, which the company industriously did until the sentinel again gave the signal to stand by.

"Look here," said Percy, "we'd better keep him jawing as long as he'll stand it, and not let fly till he begins to get violent—eh?"

"All serene," said Wally; "that won't be long."

"No; and he'll bring the whole kit of prefects with him. What a high old time there'll be!" chuckled D'Arcy.

"There's one lucky thing," said Cash. "Forder and his dame have gone out for the evening; so we shan't hurt their feelings."

"Look out—it's Clapperton," whispered the sentinel.

Clapperton tried the door, and on finding it fast, gave it a kick.

"Hello! who's there?"

"Open the door; let me in!"

"Who is it? that young cad Gamble again?" cried Percy, with a wink; the company generally.

"No. Do you hear? Let me in!"

"Say what your name is. How do we know you aren't a Classic cad? Oh! ow!"

This last interjection was in answer to a fraternal kick from behind.

"You know who I am," replied Clapperton. "Let me in!"

"Very sorry, Corder, we can't let you in. Clapperton says we're to cut you, because you played a jolly sight too well last week."

"It's not Corder, it's me—Clapperton."

"Go on! no larks, whoever you are. Clapperton's got something better to do than go to tea-parties in fags' rooms. Go and tell that to the Clap— Oh! ow! I mean, try it on next door!"

"I tell you what," said Clapperton, whose temper, none of the best, was rapidly evaporating, "if you young cads don't open the door instantly, I'll break it open."

"If you do, we'll tell Clapperton. He'll welt you for it. He won't let you spoil our new paint, not if he knows it. Good old Clappy?"

A thundering kick was the only reply, which shook the plaster of the walls, and nearly sent Fisher minor headlong with terror off his perch.

This was getting serious. But in Percy's judgment the time was not even yet ripe for extreme measures. The assailant might be given a little rope yet.

He took it, and worked himself into a childish passion against the refractory door, encouraged by the friendly gibes of the besieged. "Go it!"

"Two to one on his boots!"

"Keep your temper!"

"Come in!" "Stick to it!" "One more and you'll do it!" and so on.

It was hardly likely that the spectacle of the captain of the house in a towering rage, toying to kick his way into a fag's room, would long be allowed to continue unheeded by the rest of the inhabitants of Forder's, and in a very short time new voices without apprised the beleaguered garrison that the enemy was sitting down in force.

Brinkman's voice could be heard demanding admission, and presently Dangle's; while a posse of mercenary middle-boys relieved Clapperton of the kicking. The stout old door held out bravely and defied all their efforts.

Presently a pause was made, and Dangle's voice outside was heard demanding a parley.

"Young Wheatfield," he said, "it will be wiser for you to open the door at once. If you don't it will be broken open, and you needn't expect to get off easy then. Take my advice, and don't be a fool."

"Thanks awfully," said Percy. "I and my chaps are just going to sit down to tea. Wish you could join us, whoever you are. We've got as much right to have tea in our study as you have in yours. That's right! Kick away! Never mind the varnish! Somebody tapping at the study door."

"It's no good wasting time over young asses like them," Brinkman was heard to say.

"I don't mean to go now," said Clapperton. "They shall have such a hiding, all of them, as they won't forget in a hurry."

"It's funny how when we seniors strike against the School it's so noble, and when these juniors strike against us it's so inexcusable," said Fullerton. "Strikes always did puzzle me."

"If, instead of talking rubbish, you'd go and fetch Robert with a crowbar to smash open the door," said Clapperton, "you'd be more use."

It was getting quite dark in the room by this time, but Wally could be heard refilling his squirt at the jug, "I mean to start now," said he.

Percy came beside him.

"All serene," said he; "but why use, water when there's ink?"

"My eye! I never thought of that. Rather! I say, old man, while I remember it, I'll write home this week. Don't you fag, good old Percy."

"Oh no, it's my turn."

"Oh, let me. Is that the ink-pot? Hold it tight while I get a good go at it."

"Suppose we tickle them up with the pea-shooter first," suggested Lickford. "Mind how you go over the chairs, Cash," added he, as that hero in the dark got entangled in the second line of fortifications.

"All serene—wire away! Young Ashby, you'd better mix up some soap and coal-dust in the water for use when the ink's done."

By this time the attack without had redoubled, and Cash, mounting up to the loophole, began to operate on the besiegers with his pea-shooter. He had to guess where to shoot, for though the gas was alight in the passage, he was unable for anatomical reasons to look and shoot through the same hole at the same time. However, he had the satisfaction of feeling sure his fire was taking effect, by the aggravated exclamations of the besiegers, who vowed terrific vengeance for this fresh insult. In due time the marksman fell short of ammunition and was carefully helped down from his post in the dark, while Wally and Percy, gingerly carrying the squirt, ascended in his place.

"Hand up the basin," said Wally, "and get another lot of water ready."

"I say," said Fisher minor, who was always being seized by heroic impulses, "if you could let me down out of the window by the rope, I'd be able to get a candle."

"Good old 'How now!' awfully good notion," said Wally. "You chaps see to that, while my young brother and I work the squirt. Don't tell anybody what's up, young Fisher, and get back as soon as you can."

So, while the squirt was carefully being levelled in the face of the enemy, Fisher minor, with the end of the rope round his waist, was swinging precariously in mid-air out of the window, heartily repenting, until his feet touched terra firma, of his rash and desperate undertaking.

Before he was safe, the great attack had been delivered through the loophole. The kickers had receded from the door a pace or two in order to get up impetus for a combined onslaught, and Clapperton with a poker in his hand was advancing to annihilate the lock, when Percy, who was reconnoitring from the ventilating holes, gave the signal to have at them.

Whereupon Wally let fly with all his might, and converted half of the enemy, their captain included, into Ethiopians.

The effect was instantaneous. The four-footed kick did not come off. Clapperton's poker fell with a clatter on the floor, and a howl went up which electrified both besiegers and besieged.

"Look alive now!" said Wally. "Let 'em have the water! Keep it up!"

For five minutes an almost uninterrupted flow of coloured water poured through the loophole and kept the enemy at bay. But even a jugful will not last for ever, and presently the squirt gave a dismal groan on the bottom of the basin.

Almost at the same moment an ominous crack proclaimed that the good old door was giving way by degrees under the now renewed attack of the besiegers.

"They'll have it, after all," said Percy.

"Tell you what! Suppose we slip out by the window, and you chaps come and have supper in our room. Rather a lark, eh? It's getting a bit slow here. Nice sell for them too. Besides, they can't get at you over on our side."

This hospitable invitation fitted in with the humour of the company generally, particularly as every moment the door gave a more doubtful sound than before.

In three minutes the whole party was on the grass below, where Fisher minor, returning breathless, with a candle and matches, encountered them.

"Come on, you chaps," said Wally. "I'd give sixpence to see how they look when they find we've gone—ha! ha!"

They salved their honour with a keen sense of the humour of the situation, and followed their host across the Green in the dark, not at all sorry to have a harbour of refuge in sight, though very loth to admit that this rearward movement was a retreat.

At the door of Wakefield's, to their consternation, they met Ranger.

"What on earth are all you youngsters up to at this hour?"

"It's all right," said Wally. "The shop committee, you know. We're going to talk things over in my room. Come on, you Modern kids. We'll make an exception for you this once, and let you into Wakefield's; won't we, Ranger? But it mustn't occur again."

Yet another peril awaited them before they were safe in port. This time it was Mr Stratton on the stairs.

"Ah, here you are—all of you," said he. "I came to look for you. I want to hear how the shop is doing."

"Very well, thank you, sir. I say, Mr Stratton," said Wally, with a presence of mind which moved the admiration of his friends, "would you mind coming to a committee meeting in my and my chaps' room! We can show you the things we want ordered next week, if you don't mind."

"Certainly; I'll come. I'm delighted to find you're sticking so well to the business."

And so it happened that when at last Percy's door succumbed, and the besiegers rushed in, vowing vengeance and slaughter, to find the room empty, the nine innocents were sitting prettily round the table in Wally's room with Mr Stratton in the chair, deciding that until November was out it would be premature to order oranges for the Fellsgarth shop.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

HAWK'S PIKE.

Victory has its drawbacks, like everything else. The brilliant retreat of the Modern juniors and their auxiliaries under the enemy's fire was all very well as a strategic movement. But when it came to deciding what to do next, the difficulties of the situation became painfully apparent.

Mr Stratton stayed half an hour chatting over the shop affairs, and then rose to go.

"Good night, boys. It's time for Mr Forder's boys to be back in their house."

This unpleasant reminder had a very damping effect on the conviviality of the party generally. As soon as the master had gone, Wally said—

"It strikes me you Modern kids are in a bit of a mess."

"I'm afraid your bedroom will be a little untidy," said Fisher minor.

"The best thing you can do is to climb back by the window," suggested D'Arcy.

"I don't fancy you'll want a warming-pan to-night," said Ashby.

This was all very nice and helpful. The heroes looked at one another dismally.

"We must lump it," said Percy. "They can't do anything very bad."

"Can't they?" said Cottle. "Were you ever licked by Brinkman?"

"No," said the others.

"All right—I have been—that's all." This sounded alarming. D'Arcy said—

"Why don't you come over to our side, and out that lot! We could have no end of larks if you were Classics, instead of little Modern beasts."

"Our side's as good as yours," snapped Lickford. "All serene; you'd better go and join them," said Wally.

This did not advance the argument much further. Of course it was out of the question to go and tell tales to the Classic prefects, or even to their own master. Nor was the suggestion of sleeping that night on the Classic side hailed with enthusiasm by either party.

On the whole D'Arcy's suggestion of getting back by the window seemed the most hopeful. When once back they would go straight to bed, where they would be safe for a while. Then, if they could manage to rise at the supernatural hour of six, they might succeed in evading the penalties of rebellion for another day. For to-morrow being exeat day, they would be free to roam where they liked. And they had a very good idea that wherever it was, they would give Forder's house a very wide berth.

"Tell you what!" exclaimed Wally, slapping his brother on the back so hard as to cause him to yell loud enough to bring every prefect of Fellsgarth on to the spot. "Tell you what, old chappies; of course we will! Why ever didn't we think of it before—eh?"

"Think of what?"

"Why, we'll go up Hawk's Pike, of course."

"Of course we will," said everybody.

What mattered it to them that Hawk's Pike had defied the ordinary tourist for generations? They weren't ordinary tourists, or anything like.

"You come over for us at six," said Wally. "Bring the grub we left in your room. It'll be a regular sell for all those chaps. We'll make a day of it."

It seemed a magnificent solution of the problem; and on the strength of it the five truants departed, not without misgivings, for their quarters.

The rope was still dangling from their window, and Cash, whose father was in the Navy, was selected by general consent as the member of the party best qualified to make the first ascent. He modestly tried to induce some one else to assume the honour, but he was outvoted, and, devoutly hoping to find the coast clear of the enemy, he addressed himself to the venture.

It was not particularly arduous for a decent climber, and in a couple of minutes his companions saw him swing himself on to the ledge, and disappear into the room.

In a moment he put out his head.

"All clear," said he. "The door's smashed in, and all the things kicked about anyhow; but there's no one about."

That was the main thing. The company speedily followed, materially assisted in their clamber by sundry knots tied in the rope by the ingenious Cash, and by his energetic hauling from above.

The programme was carried out without a hitch. Without waiting for the bed-bell they one and all presented themselves to the dormitory dame, and requested permission to turn in, pleading severe fatigue (which was by no means imaginary) as the reason for this unwonted haste. So smartly was the retirement effected, that no one was aware of their return to their house until half an hour later. When the dormitory filled up, their five noses were discernible peeping from out the sheets.

Whatever chastisement the prefects may have had in store for them evidently could not be administered at present. For a disturbance in the dormitory was a capital offence in Mr Forder's eyes, and, as the master's room was adjacent, and he was known to have returned and to be within earshot, the only thing possible was secretly to promise the rebels a warm time of it as soon as they woke next morning.

But Revenge sleeps sounder than Caution. As five struck in the clock tower, Ramshaw, who had had it on his mind he might oversleep himself, and, in consequence, had been up looking at his watch every ten minutes during the night, slipped finally out of bed, and roused each of his partners. He expected no gratitude for his good offices, and was not disappointed. The sleepers growled and grunted at his well-meant efforts, pulled the clothes over their heads, called him unfriendly names, threatened him with untold vengeance, and scouted all idea of danger by delay, till he was almost tired of trying. But by the end of three-quarters of an hour, with the aid of a moist sponge and other persuasives, he got them to their feet well awake to a sense of the undertaking before them.

They still grumbled—at the cold, and the darkness, and the fatigue, and blamed Ramshaw for all three. They heartily despised themselves for their promise to the Classic boys last night, and still more for the row with their own prefects, which was the cause for all this inconvenience. But as they gradually slipped on their clothes, and the warm bed receded more into the background, they cheered up and recovered their courage.

There was no difficulty in getting out. The dormitory door stood open. Brinkman, who was the prefect on duty, lay snoring loud and long in the end bed. Mr Forder's bedroom was on the safe side of a brick wall. Carrying their boots in their hands they slunk off to their study, where they made a hasty selection from the miscellaneous provisions stored over-night, and then, one by one, solemnly slid down the rope.

Once on the grass, in the chill, dark air, depression fell upon them a second time. Their thoughts returned to the snug beds they had left. Even Brinkman and Clapperton could not take it out of them more than this white frost and nipping air. However, the bell began to toll six; and the thought of their companions in discomfort spurred them on to energy. They crawled across the Green to Wakefield's.

Four ghostly figures were visible in the feeble dawn, hovering under the wall.

"Got the grub?"

It was the cheery voice of Wally Wheatfield, at sound of which the pilgrims took comfort, and were glad they had turned out after all.

The first thing was to get clear of Fellsgarth, which was easily accomplished, as no one was about. Even had they been observed, beyond the general wonder of seeing nine juniors taking a morning walk at 6 a.m., there was nothing to interfere with their liberty. As soon as they got into Shargle Woods a brief council of war was held.

"It's a jolly stiff climb," said Wally.

"I've got a compass," said Ashby, as if that disposed of the difficulty. Ashby had an ulster, which just then seemed to some of his comrades a still more enviable possession.

"How many miles?" asked Lickford.

"Miles? Who ever reckoned mountains by miles? It's three hours to the top."

"That'll be nine o'clock," wisely observed Cash.

"Who knows the way up?" Percy asked.

"Way up? Can't you see it?" said Wally. "When you get to the bottom, you go straight up."

"All very well for you. I can't walk up a perpendicular cliff. I dare say I could come straight down if I tried," submitted Percy.

"Oh, there are lots of paths. It's as easy as pot," said Wally. "Suppose we have a bit of grub now. It'll be less to carry, you know."

Whereupon an attack was made on the provisions, with the result that considerably less was left to carry up.

The meal ended, a start was made in earnest, and the party trailed down the valley towards the lake at an easy jog-trot, and came to the conclusion that ascending a pike was ridiculously simple work.

By the time they reached the lake, and began to strike up the winding lane that led round to the rearward slopes of the great mountain, an hour had passed.

"Nearly half-way there," said Fisher minor, hoping some one would corroborate the statement.

"Oh, we don't count that bit we've come anything," said Wally. "We're just starting up now."

"Oh," said Fisher, again hoping to be confirmed. "Then it's only two hours' climb?"

"That's all you know about it. Wisdom used to say he could do it in three hours from the lake-side. But he was a wonner to go. Come along; wire in, you chaps."

"Where did Wisdom get killed?" asked Percy, by way of a little genial conversation.

"I heard over the other side, down the cliffs above the lake. He got caught in a mist and lost his way."

"How do you know this is the right way up?" asked Cottle.

"Because it's as plain as the nose on your face," retorted the guide.

It was a long dreary pull up the lower slope, over the wet grass and through the bracken, and Fisher minor before he accomplished the first stage was heartily sick of Hawk's Pike. One or two of his companions, to tell the truth, were not quite as enamoured of the expedition as they tried to appear, but they kept their emotions to themselves. Wally was the only member of the party who was uniformly cheerful, and no one, not even Percy, exactly liked to incur his contempt by appearing to enjoy the clamber less than he.

"Come on, you chaps," cried the leader as he staggered to the top of the slope. "Keep it up. What a crow it will be for us, when we get to the top!"

"I suppose," gasped Fisher minor, as he threw himself on the grass, "we're half-way now?"

"Getting on," said Wally. "I dare say on the top of that next ridge we shall be able to see the top."

"What, isn't that the top?" said poor Fisher, craning his head up towards the beetling crag above them.

"Top? No, that's the knob half-way down we see from the school window. The stiff part begins after that."

Really Wally, if he had tried to be heartless, could not have succeeded better. Had he but expressed some hint at regret that the distance was so long, or vouchsafed the least semblance of a growl at the labour involved, they would have loved him. As it was, they durst do nothing but hate him, and accept his information joyously.

"That's nothing," said Lickford. "I feel quite fresh; don't you, you chaps?"

"Rather!" they chimed in plaintively.

"Better get on," said Wally, after a few minutes more. How they loathed Wally then!

The new slope was worse than the first; for the grass was more boggy, and big stones here and there jarred their tender feet. Besides, it grieved them to see Wally zigzagging steadily on ahead, utterly regardless of their distress behind. Yet no one exactly liked to stop. Had any one had the courage to do so, they would have gone down like a row of ninepins.

Let no one charge these boys with chicken-heartedness. On the contrary, they worked up that slope like heroes; all the more so that they were ready to drop, and durst not for very shame. There is no hero like the coward who compels himself to be brave. Many a man in history has become famous for an exploit that cost him far less than this climb cost the Fellsgarth juniors. Therefore let this record at least award the the credit they deserve.—It was some satisfaction, when the knob was reached, and they looked up at the black towering crags above, to see that even Wally seemed staggered for a moment.

"We may as well have a rest and some grub before we tackle that lot," said he. "What do you say?"

The motion was carried unanimously.

"It's eleven o'clock," said Cash. "We've been five hours already."

"Thank goodness we've broken the back of it," said Fisher minor.

"I don't know so much about that," said Percy.

"We shan't get up that as easily as we've done so far, I fancy."

"Rather not," said Wally, cheerfully, with his mouth full of sandwich. "I believe it's not so bad after we get past those rocks though, on to the top."

"What," cried Fisher, "isn't that the top then?"

"Bless you, no. We have to go down a bit when we get there, and cross a bog, and then the real pike begins."

The information was received with dead silence, and the party sat grimly munching their lunch with upturned eyes.

"Which way do we go?" asked Cottle presently.

"I suppose up by the stream. It's bound to lead up to the bog."

The stream in question was a torrent which fell in a series of leaps through a narrow gorge in the rocks.

Fisher minor looked very blue.

"I wish I'd got my strong boots," said he.

The dismal tone in which he uttered the words startled the others.

"I say, young Fisher," said D'Arcy, "you're not done yet, are you!"

Fisher minor had not the pluck to say "Yes."

"I'll be game after this rest. I got a little blown up that last bit, that's all."

"It doesn't look awfully far now," said Ashby.

"It's further than it looks. Come on; let's be jogging," said Wally.

The new ascent, which consisted chiefly in clambering from stone to stone up the rocky ravine, was less exhausting than the tramp up the bog, and as Wally was no better at this sort of climbing than any of the rest, he did not dishearten them by getting hopelessly ahead, but kept with the party. Occasionally they had to help one another up a specially stiff ledge, and this mutual accommodation was an additional source of comfort to the weak goers. Progress was very slow. Cash, having hauled himself up on to a little platform of moss, looked at his watch and was alarmed to find it was past one. The huge ravine, at the far head of which they could see the open sky, seemed a tremendous distance yet. And after that, according to Wally, was to come the bog and the cliffs beyond, on which Wisdom lost his life.

Yet none of these things was quite so bad as the rolling up of some fleecy clouds behind them, which effaced the view below, and seemed to be crawling up the mountain in pursuit of them.

Cash pointed this out to Wally, who grunted.

"We shall miss the view from the top," said he.

"If we ever get there," said Cash.

On they scrambled again, casting every now and then a longing look upward at the grim ravine head, and now and then an anxious glance behind at the fast overhauling clouds.

"We're bound to get out of it up there," sang out Wally.

But almost as he spoke the light mist swept past him, blotting out everything but the boulder he stood on and a rift of the dashing water at his feet.

The clouds had befriended Fisher minor. They did what he durst not do; ordered the party to halt.

"Where are you?" shouted Wally from the invisible. "Here; where are you?"

"Stay there; and I'll come to you."

Slowly the party foregathered, and stood huddled in the blinding mist on a flat rock.

"It's blowing over," said Wally. "We'd better make back for the hill- side, and get out of this ravine till it clears up."

It was no easy task scrambling back, down that difficult way, over boulders already made slippery by the moist mist, and not able to see four yards ahead. The clouds poured up to meet them in column upon column, growing denser and wetter every minute. At last, how they scarcely knew, they came down to where the rush of the water ceased and the stones gave place to wet grass.

"We must be somewhere near where we sat down last," said Ashby. "Whew! it's cold."

"The thing is," said Percy, "aren't we too much out to the left? There's no sign of a path that I can see."

"This looks like one," said a voice ahead, which they recognised as Wally's. "Come along—this way."

They followed as well as they could, and groped about for the path. Then they shouted.

Wally replied out of the mist.

"Stay there a bit—it's not a path. I'll yell when I've got it."

They waited, and for five minutes listened anxiously for the signal. Then they thought they heard it away to the right, and floundered off in pursuit. But after a little they discovered that they were going uphill.

"Hadn't we better go back to where we were," said Cash, "or we may miss him?"

It occurred to most of the party that they had missed him already. Still, they decided to go back.

Presently they distinctly heard what sounded like a voice below them.

"That must be he. Yell!"

They shouted, and again there seemed to come a faint response.

"All right," said Percy. "Stay where you are, and I'll go and fetch him up."

And he vanished into the mist.

"What's the time?" said Ashby, as the party stood dismally waiting.

"Half-past four. It's a good job it doesn't get dark till six."

"Only an hour and a half," said Cottle; "I wish those chaps would come."

But though they strained their ears and eyes, no sign of the missing ones came; nothing but the swish of the rain and the whistle of the wind through the grass.

"We'd better go on," said D'Arcy presently; "they'll probably get down some other way. Look sharp, or it will be dark."

So they started at a fast walk down the boggy slope.

"Keep close," said D'Arcy after a time. "Are you all there?"

Everybody answered for himself, but not for his neighbour.

"You there, young Fisher minor?"

"Yes," replied Fisher's voice from the rear.

He seemed so near that they started on again.

But after another five minutes, Ashby, who was last but one, shouted again.

"Where are you, Fisher minor?"

There was no answer.

"Wait a bit, you fellows. Fisher minor's behind."

But no answer came from that direction either.

"Here's a go," said Ashby to himself. "That kid Fisher's gone lame, and he'll be lost if I don't wait for him."

So he dismally turned back, shouting and whistling as he went.

The clouds all round grew duller and heavier in the fading light, and the wind-blown rain struck keenly on the wanderer's cheek.

"That kid," said Ashby to himself, as he sturdily tramped through the marsh, "ought not to have come. He's not up to it."

But despite all his shouting and whistling and cooeying, not a sound came out of the mist but the wind and the driving of the rain.

Still Ashby could not bring himself to leave the "kid" in the lurch. Even if he did not find him it would be better to—

"Ah! what was that?"

He clapped his hands to his mouth and shouted against the wind with all his might.

His voice was flung back in his face; but with it there came the feeble sound of a "coo-ey" somewhere near.

Ashby sprang to it like a drowning man to a straw. If it was only a lost sheep it would be some company. For ten minutes he beat round, shouting all the time, and once or twice fancying he heard an answer.

Then suddenly he came upon a great boulder, against which leaned Fisher minor, whimpering and shivering.

"Here you are!" said Ashby, joyously. "Thank God for it! I gave you up for lost. The others are gone on. Come on. Hang on my arm, old hoss."

"I can't; I'm too fagged to go on. I'm awfully sleepy, Ashby. You go on; I'll come presently."

Ashby's reply was prompt and vigorous. He took his fellow-junior by the arm and began to march him down the slope as fast, almost faster than his weary legs would carry him.

And as they started, the last of the light died out of the mist, and left them in blank darkness.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

ROLLITT MAKES A RECORD FOR FELLSGARTH.

The Modern seniors had slept on soundly that morning, secure of their prey. The military operations of the preceding evening, although they resulted in the night of the besieged, had not tended to the glory of the besiegers. Indeed, when the door had at last been broken in and it was discovered that the birds had flown, a titter had gone round at the expense of Messrs. Clapperton, Dangle, and Brinkman, which had been particularly riling to those gentlemen.

When in the morning the birds were found to have flown once more, the position of the seniors became positively painful. Fullerton, as usual, did not salve the wound.

"I should say—not that it matters much to me—that that scores another to the rebels," said he. "How very naughty of them not to stay and be whopped, to be sure!"

"The young cads!" growled Clapperton, who had the grace to be perfectly aware that he had been made ridiculous. "I don't envy them when I get hold of them."

"No more do I," said Fullerton, "with their door off its hinges. It will be very draughty."

"Do shut up. Why don't you go and join the enemy at once, if you're so fond of them?" said Dangle.

"Well," said Clapperton, "they will keep; but we must have it out with Corder now. It's no use simply cutting him; he'll have to be taught that he can't defy the house for nothing. Go and tell him to come, Brinkman."

But Corder's back was against the wall, literally and metaphorically.

To Brinkman's demand (almost the first voice he had heard speaking to him for a week) he returned a curt refusal.

"Well, I'll make you come," said Brinkman. Whereupon Corder retreated behind his table and invited the interloper to begin.

To dodge round and round a study table after a nimble boy is not a very dignified operation for a prefect, particularly when the object of his chase is a prefect too; and Brinkman presently abandoned the quest and went off, breathing threatenings and slaughter, for reinforcements.

So did Corder. Less sensitive than his junior fellow-martyrs, he marched straight across to Yorke's study. The captain was away, but in the adjoining room he found Fisher major and Denton, poring over their endless accounts.

"You two," said Corder, "you're prefects. You're wanted over on the other side to stop bullying."

"Who's being bullied?"

"I am. I've been cut dead for a week. I'm sick of it. Now they're going to lick me. I'd take my chance against them one at a time, but I can't tackle three of them."

"Is it for playing in the match?"

"Yes, that and going to the meeting. Nothing else. I'd go to twenty a day, if I had the chance, to spite them."

"Who are bullying you?"

"Clapperton, Brinkman, and Dangle, of course."

"I tell you what," said Denton, "we couldn't go over. We've no authority. But there's nothing to prevent you staying here and letting them fetch you. Then we can interfere."

"All serene," said Corder; "I hope they will come. I say, I wish you'd let me wait here and hear you fellows talk. I've not had a word spoken to me for a week. I can tell you it's no joke. I laughed at it at first, and thought it would be nice rather than otherwise. But after two days, you chaps, it gets to be decidedly slow; you begin to wonder if it isn't worth caving in. But that would be such a howling come down, when all you've done is to do what you had a right to do—or rather what you're bound to do—play up for the School."

"And jolly well you played too," said Usher.

"It was a lucky turn. You know I was so awfully glad to be in the fifteen, and felt I could do anything. Of course the lucky thing was my getting past their forwards, and then—" And then Corder bunched into a delighted account of the never-to-be-forgotten match, during which the cloud passed away from his face, the light came back to his eyes, and the spirit into his voice.

"What business have they to stop me," said he, "or bully me for it?"

"None. And Yorke, when he hears of it, will report it to the doctor."

"No, don't let him do that. What's the use? If I can stay here it's all right."

An hour later, about the time that the young mountaineers were beginning to look out for their second wind on the lower slope, Dangle came across in a vicious temper.

He had not come to look for Corder, the sight of whom in the sanctuary of a Classic study took him aback.

"That's where you're sneaking, is it?" said he. "I'm not surprised."

"Not much need to sneak from you. It's three against one I object to," said Corder. "But if you like to fetch Clapperton and Brinkman over here, we can have it out comfortably now."

"You must think yourself uncommonly important if you suppose we're going to trouble about an ass like you," said Dangle. "I never once thought of you."

"What have you come for, then?" said Fisher. "Hadn't you better wait till you're invited before you come where you're not wanted?"

"I've come on club business, and I've a perfect right to come. You fellows, I hear, have taken it into your heads to dissolve the club."

"What of that? Why didn't you come and vote against it if you didn't like it?"

"Thank you. It wasn't quite good enough. What I want to know is, what is the treasurer going to do with the money? I suppose that's hardly going to be treated as a perquisite for him?"

Fisher major looked troubled. He had dreaded this awkward question for days. For the lost money was still missing.

"You know it's nothing of the kind."

"What are you going to do with it, then?"

"That's for the club to decide. If you'd come to the meeting you could have proposed something."

"It's funny how sore you are about that precious hole-and-corner meeting of yours. How much is there on hand?"

"You'll know presently."

"I dare say—as soon as you've hit on a dodge for getting over that little deficiency of four or five pounds—eh?"

Fisher major looked up in astonishment. How had the fellow heard about that?

Dangle laughed.

"You thought it was a snug little secret of your own, didn't you? You're mistaken. And you're mistaken if you think we aren't going to get at the bottom of it."

Fisher major rose to his feet.

"Look here, Dangle," said he; "do you mean to insinuate that I've taken the club money!"

"I never said so."

"Or that I was going to cook the accounts so that it should not be known?"

"I didn't mean you were."

"Whom did you mean? Me?" said Denton.

"No; I didn't say anybody," said Dangle, beginning to feel himself in a fix. "All I meant was, we want to know what's become of the money?"

"You don't want to know more than I do," said Fisher major. "I'd have handed over the money days ago, if I could only have found it."

"Do you suspect any one?" said Dangle.

"Suspect? No. No one comes here that would be likely to take it."

"You leave it about, though. I've noticed that myself. Who's your fag?"

"As honest a man as you, every bit, and that's saying a good deal for you," retorted Fisher major, hotly.

"Keep your temper. Who's study is that next yours?"

"That's Yorke's."

"No: on the other side."

"That's Rollitt's. I suppose you're going to insinuate—"

"Stop a bit," said Dangle, suddenly, turning to close the door before he proceeded. "When did you first miss the money?"

"You're uncommonly interested in the accounts," said Fisher; "if you want to know so much, it was ten days ago."

"I'm interested because I've an idea. When did you get in the subscriptions?"

"They were all in a week before the first Rendlesham match, the match where you—"

Fisher major stopped.

Dangle took no notice of the broken taunt, and said—

"Look here, Fisher. There's no love lost between you and me, and it doesn't affect me."

"Or me."

"For all that, I don't care to see you or the clubs robbed without giving you a friendly hint."

"You're very kind. Who is the culprit? The doctor?"

"No; Rollitt. Stay," said he, waving down the interruption, "I shouldn't be fool enough to say it unless I was pretty sure. Tell me this, Fisher; when you go out and leave money about do you lock your door?"

"No. We don't have to do that this side."

"Did you ever see Rollitt in here?"

"No."

"Do you know that on the first half-holiday this term Rollitt nearly came to grief on the river?"

"What on earth has that to do with it?"

"Everything. You heard of it? Your young brother was with him, of course. And you heard that he lost Widow Wisdom's boat over the falls."

"Yes," said Fisher, suddenly beginning to see the drift of the cross- examination.

"And you heard that the very next day he bought her a new one for five pounds?"

"Yes, I did; but whatever right have you to connect that with the missing money?"

"Wait a bit. You were away all that afternoon, weren't you!"

"Yes."

"I wasn't. I happened to come over to look for you, and found you were out. The only fellow I met in the house was Rollitt. He'd just got back, and I met him at the door of this room. There, you can make what you like of it. Even a Classic knows what twice two makes."

And he turned on his heel and left the room.

"There's goes a thoroughbred cad for you," said Denton.

"I don't know how we came to let him go without a kicking," said Fisher.

"Shall I call to him to come back?" asked Corder.

"Of course," said Fisher major, "it is a curious coincidence about Rollitt. But I never thought of connecting the two things together before."

"No. It's utter guesswork on Dangle's part."

"If it comes to that," said Corder, "if Dangle was over here that afternoon, why shouldn't he have collared it as well as Rollitt?"

"He has any amount of money. He's not hard up, like Rollitt."

"All I can say is," said Denton, "I wish that cad had kept his suspicions to himself."

The object of these suspicions, meanwhile, blissfully unconscious of the interest with which he was being remembered at Fellsgarth, was utilising his holiday in the prosecution of his favourite sport.

This time he did not fish from a boat, nor did he affect the upper stream. He tried the lower reach; and not very successfully. For he had never been able to replace the tackle lost on the eventful afternoon when Widow Wisdom's boat had gone over the falls. He had his fly-book still, and had come across an old reel which, fitted to a makeshift rod with common twine, had to do duty until he could afford a regular new turnout. It was better than nothing, but the fish seemed somehow to get wind of the fact that they were not being treated with proper respect, and refused to have more to do than they could help with irregular- looking apparatus.

Rollitt put up with their unreasonableness for a long time that morning and afternoon. With infinite patience he tried one fly after another, and either bank in turn. He gave them a chance of being hooked under the falls, or right down on the flats by the lake. But it was no go. They wouldn't be tempted.

At last, as it was growing dusk, he became conscious that it had been raining fast for half an hour, and that he was wet through. He looked up and saw a grim pall of wet lying over the lake and all up the side of Hawk's Pike, of which only the lower slope was distinguishable through the mist. It was not a promising evening; and Rollitt, now he came to think of it, might as well go back to Fellsgarth as stand about here.

So he collected his tackle and turned homeward. His path from the lake brought him across the track which leads round to the back of the mountain; and he was just turning in here when he heard what sounded like a halloo on the hill-side. It was probably only a shepherd calling his dog, but he waited to make sure.

Yes, it was a shout, but it sounded more like a sheep than a man. Rollitt shouted back. A quick response came, and presently out of the mist a shadowy form emerged running down the slope, hopping over the boulders, and making for the lane.

A minute more and Wally presented himself.

"Hullo, is that you, Rollitt? I thought I was lost. I say, have you seen the others?"

Rollitt shook his head.

"Whew! I made sure they'd come down. I say, what a go if they're lost up there, a night like this?"

Rollitt looked up at the dim mountain-side and nodded again.

"I thought I was on a path, you know, and hallooed to them. They didn't hear, so I went back for them, and—so we've missed."

"Who!" said Rollitt.

"Do you know my young brother Percy, a Modern kid? He was one, and all our lot, you know, D'Arcy and Ashby and Fisher minor and—"

"Fisher minor," said Rollitt, suddenly becoming interested; "up there?"

"Yes—he's the lame horse of the party—not up to it. What's up, I say?"

Rollitt had suddenly deposited his rod under the wall, and quitting the path was beginning to strike up the base of the hill.

"Go, and bring guides," he growled.

"You'll get lost, to a dead certainty. I say, can't I come too?" said the boy, looking very miserable.

"No. Fetch guides. Come with them. Quick."

There were no guides to be had nearer than Penchurch, four miles off, and Wally, very cold and wet and hungry and footsore, with a big load on his heart as he thought of Percy, pulled himself together with an effort and stumped off.

Rollitt strode on up the slope in the gathering night. Cold and weather mattered little to him, still less did danger. But Fisher minor mattered very much. For Percy or any of the rest he might probably have stayed where he was; but for the one boy in Fellsgarth he oared about he would cheerfully go over a precipice.

Every now and again he stood still and shouted. But in the wind and rain it was impossible to say if any one heard him or called again.

After an hour or more he found himself on the first ridge, where for a few yards the ground is level before it rises again. Here he called again, once or twice. Once there came, as he thought, a faint distant whistle, but by no manner of calling could he get it to come again. He started off in the direction from which it seemed to come, calling all the way, but never a voice came out of the darkness. For a couple of hours he doggedly haunted the place, loth to leave it while a chance remained. Then he gave it up, and started once more up the steep slope. He looked at his watch by the light of a match. It was eleven o'clock. He shuddered, but not with the cold, and went on.

Something—who could say what?—told him that fee must go higher yet. Once last year, in company with Wisdom, he had been as far as the upper bog, and had wanted to go to the top. But Wisdom had dissuaded him. Now, even in the darkness the ground seemed familiar, and he tramped on up the swampy steep till presently he found himself near the sound of rushing water at the foot of the great ravine.

The stream had grown so strong since the afternoon that to shout against it was more hopeless than ever. Yet Rollitt shouted. Had a voice replied, he felt sure he could have heard it. But none did.

Up the steep ravine he went, finding the going easier than through the spongy swamps below. About half-way up, just where the juniors ten hours ago had decided to turn back, as he looked up, he saw what seemed like clear sky through a frame in the mist. Was it clearing after all? Yes. The higher he got the more the mist broke up into fleeting clouds, which swept aside every few moments and let in a dim glimmer of moonlight on the scene.

At the top of the ravine he shouted again; but all was still. Even the wind was dying down, and the rain fell with a deadened sob at his feet. Three o'clock! Wisdom had told him, the day they had been up there, that the top was only three-quarters of an hour beyond where he stood. Something still cried "Excelsior" within him, and without halting longer than to satisfy himself by another shout, he started on.

How he achieved that tremendous climb he could never say. The clouds had rolled off, and the moonlight lit up the rocks almost like day. Never once did he pull up or flag in his ascent. He even ceased to shout.

Presently there loomed before him, gleaming in the moonlight, the cairn. For the first time in its annals, a Fellsgarth boy had got to the top of Hawk's Pike.

But, so far from elation at the glory of the achievement, Rollitt uttered a groan of dismay when he looked round and found no one there after all. That he would find Fisher minor there he had never doubted; and now—all this had been time lost.

Without waiting to heed the glorious moonlight prospect over lake and hill, he turned almost savagely, and scrambled down the crags. It was perilous work—more perilous than the scramble up. But Rollitt did not think of danger, and therefore perhaps did not meet it. In half an hour he was down on the bog—and in an hour after, just as a faint break in the east gave warning that the night was gone, he stood bruised and panting at the foot of the gorge on the second ridge.

He was too dispirited to shout now. It had not been given to him after all to rescue his friend. He would have done better if he had never—

There was a big boulder just ahead, poised almost miraculously on its edge, on the sloping hill-side. It looked as if a moderate blast of wind would send it headlong to the bottom. But it had stood there for centuries, a shelter for sheep in winter from the snow and hail.

What made Rollitt bound now in the direction of this rock, like a man shot? Surely not to admire a natural curiosity, or to seek shelter under its wing.

No. He had found that his quest after all had not been in vain. There, curled up under the overhanging rock, lying one almost across the other for warmth, with cheek touching cheek, and Ashby's coat covering both, were Fisher minor and his chum—not dead, but sleeping soundly!



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

CORDER STRIKES A BLOW FOR LIBERTY.

The absence of the juniors had excited no curiosity in either house till evening. It was a holiday, and though the rule was that even on a holiday no boy should go "out of touch," as it was called, that is, beyond a certain radius, without permission, it was not always enforced. The Modern seniors had every reason to guess the object of this prolonged absence. They had promised many things to the juniors when they caught them. It was not surprising, while things were as warm as they were, that the young rebels should give Fellsgarth a wide berth.

As to the Classic juniors, no one was surprised at anything they did, in reason.

But when "call-over" came and all nine names were returned absent (in addition to that of Rollitt and a few other habitual vagrants), fellows began to ask where they were.

"Has any one seen Wally?" asked Yorke, who had just had the unusual experience of making his own tea and cooking his own eggs.

"He's probably fooling about somewhere out of bounds with my fag," said Ranger. "He'll have to catch it, Fisher, though he is your brother."

"Let him have it," said Fisher. "I'd do the same to your young brother if I had the chance. But to change the subject, I've something to tell you fellows that's rather awkward. That money hasn't turned up yet."

"That is awkward," said Yorke. "I wish I could help you out with it, but I'm cleaned out."

"Oh, that's not it. Of course I'm responsible, and must get the governor to make it good. Dear old governor, he'll do it, but he'll pull a precious long face, and go round the house lowering the gas and telling every one he must economise, with two such expensive sons as me and my minor at school. It's not that, though. Dangle came over this morning, and wanted to know what we were going to do about the accounts, now we've dissolved the clubs; and somehow or other he's heard of the deficiency, and wants to know all about it."

"I hope you told him," said Yorke. "Of course I did; but he told me a lot more than I could tell him. He thinks he knows what's become of it."

And Fisher proceeded to narrate Dangle's suspicions against Rollitt.

The captain's face grew very long as the story went on. Then he said—

"I hope to goodness there's nothing in it. Is it a fact about Widow Wisdom's boat?"

"Yes; my young brother was with Rollitt that day, and told me about it as a secret. But as it's out now, there's no good keeping it."

"Dangle has a spite against Rollitt. If any one else had told you this, there might have been something in it."

"And if it had been any one but Rollitt bought the boat, it would have been nothing. But he's so frightfully poor. He'd no time to write home, even if he could have got money from there, and there was no one here he could borrow of. Why, he must have gone off very first thing in the morning and bought the boat."

"And are you quite certain you had all the money collected by that Saturday?" asked Yorke.

"Yes; and what's more, I'm almost certain I counted it and made it come right. That's the last time it has come right."

The captain drummed his fingers on the table and looked very miserable.

"I wish, Fisher," said he, "I hadn't advised you to take that treasurership. If we could only be quite sure there wasn't some mistake in the accounts, it would be different. It would be a frightful thing to suspect Rollitt unless it was absolutely certain."

"You're welcome to round on me," said Fisher, looking quite as miserable as his chief. "I was a fool to take your advice. I'd much sooner make the money up myself, and not say a word about it to any one."

"You can't do that now. You maybe sure Dangle won't let it drop."

"What shall you do?" asked Ranger.

"What would you do?" said Yorke, testily. "Isn't it bad enough to be in a fix like this without being asked hopeless questions? I'm sorry, old man, I've lost my temper; and as it's not come back I vote we say no more on the subject at present."

The evening wore on, and still the truants did not return. At ten o'clock Yorke reported their absence to Mr Wakefield, and Mr Wakefield reported it to the head-master. A similar report reached him from the matron of Mr Forders house with regard to the missing ones there; and presently, further report was made that Rollitt was not in the school.

No one could give any account of their probable whereabouts. Rollitt had been seen going out with a rod early in the day, but no one had seen any of the juniors since last night, when they had prematurely gone to bed in their own dormitory. A consultation was held, in which all sorts of conjectures were put forward, the most plausible of which was that the juniors had organised an expedition to Seastrand, a fashionable watering-place an hour distant on the railway, which both Wally and Lickford had separately been heard to express a desire to visit. It seemed probable that they had lost the last train back, and would literally "not come home till morning."

In which case warm things were promised to be ready for my gentlemen.

As to Rollitt, his vagaries were consistent with any explanation. He may have gone to Penchurch in mistake for Fellsgarth, and curled himself up in the church porch, mistaking it for his bed.

In any case the general impression was that nothing could be done till morning, and that the juniors at least were making themselves pretty comfortable, wherever they might be.

Still, Fisher major felt a vague uneasiness. Had he been quite sure his brother was in the capable company of his fellow-fags, he would have been comparatively comfortable. But the possibility of the feckless youngster wandering about benighted somewhere on his own account added a new weight to the burden which already lay on the spirit of the luckless treasurer of the School clubs.

"I've a good mind to turn out and look for my minor," said he to Denton.

"What could you do? He's all right. You couldn't do anything in the dark, and on a night like this. I'm game to turn out any hour you like in the morning, if he's not come by then. I bet you the four young scamps will all stroll in for call-over, and wonder whatever the fuss was about."

There was nothing to be done, and Fisher lay awake all night, listening to every sound, and reproaching himself over and over again (as one will do when everything goes wrong) that he had made such a mess of everything this term.

About daybreak there came a ring at the school-bell, and half the school jumped to its feet. Fisher was down on the Green among the first, in slippers and ulster.

Five shivering youngsters were standing inside the gate, with dripping garments and chattering teeth and white faces—D'Arcy, Lickford, Ramshaw, Cottle, and Cash—but no Fisher minor.

"Where's my minor?" asked the senior.

"What! hasn't he turned up?" said D'Arcy. "Haven't Wally and Percy and Ashby turned up? We got lost on Hawk's Pike. I'm awfully hungry, I say."

"No one's turned up. Do you mean to say he's out on the hill a night like this?"

"He was behind—he and Ashby. He was a lame duck, you know. The others were in front."

"Were they together?"

"Who? Young Fisher minor and Ashby? I don't think so."

"Ashby yelled to see if we knew where he was, and must have gone to look for him. We made sure they'd be back long ago, didn't we, you chaps?"

Here the doctor and several of the prefects came on the scene. The truants were ordered to the hot bath and bed at once, and a council was held as to what should be done. Fisher major did not wait to take part in it. He rushed to his room, flung on his clothes and boots, and started off, accompanied by Denton, at full speed, in the direction of the mountain.

Neither spoke a word. As they passed Widow Wisdom's, Denton darted in.

"Have your fire alight and some food ready. Some of our youngsters have been all night on the mountain. We're going to look for them."

Half-way to the lake, they were pulled up by a shout from across the stream. It was Percy Wheatfield, dead beat, sitting on a log, as white and miserable as a ghost.

"I say, have you chaps seen Wally?" he called.

"No; we're off to look. Some of them have turned up. Can you get as far as Widow Wisdom's? There's a roaring fire and some grub waiting there. We'll see after Wally."

Percy staggered to his feet. He had been wandering, he could not say where, all night. The very mention of the words "fire" and "food" revived him.

"Get up to school as soon as you can and get to bed. You can't be any use looking for the rest. There's plenty of us to do that. Good-bye."

It was half-past seven when they reached the lake and turned up the mountain path. The mist had vanished, and the late autumn sun was shining brightly on the hill-side. The distant barking of a dog above apprised them that some one was abroad already, and the hopes of the searchers rose within them as they struck up the steep slope.

Half-way up they stood and shouted; but no reply came except the far- away barking of the shepherd's dogs. "We shall be able to see a good way all round when we get on to the ridge," said Denton.

Almost as he spoke, a shout close by startled them. Looking up they perceived emerging from behind some boulders a little procession.

Fisher major's blood ran cold as he saw it. For at the head stalked a stalwart guide, who carried in his arms one small boy, while in the rear followed a form which they recognised as Rollitt's carrying on his back another. Between the two tramped a third junior, hanging on to the arm of another guide.

What terrified Fisher major more than anything was to see that the head of the boy on Rollitt's back had fallen helplessly forward on the shoulder of his porter.

With a groan the elder brother bounded to the spot. The history of years flashed through his mind as he did so. He saw the people at home and heard their voices. He seemed to be in the nursery, hectoring it, as big brothers will, among the little ones, amongst whom was a little boy with curly hair and a shrill piping voice. He called to mind the first-night of this term, and the vision of his young brother breaking down with his new-boy troubles next morning. All this and more fleeted through his mind as he bounded to where Rollitt stood.

"Hush!" said the latter, almost gruffly. "Asleep."

So he was. It had scarcely roused him when Rollitt had picked him up two hours ago from his roost under the rocking-stone. And having once been perched on his preserver's back his head fell forward again, and there it had lain ever since. How Rollitt had carried him so far, resting only now and then, and that in a way not to disturb his burden, only those who knew the huge strength of the Fellsgarth giant could understand.

"Hullo," said Wally, greeting the new-comers in a limp, sleepy way, "have you seen my young brother Percy? He was—"

"Yes—Percy's all right; so are all the rest."

"I'm all right," sang out Ashby from the front. "This chap wanted to carry me, so I let him."

"Jolly glad you were to get the lift," said Wally. "You new kids oughtn't to have come. Twenty-four hours on the hills is nothing when you get used to—"

Here Wally (who had had twenty-six hours) suddenly collapsed and tumbled over from sheer fatigue on the grass.

Fisher and Denton made a chair of their hands for him, and so the procession went on.

A cart was in waiting at the foot of the slope, filled with warm wraps and other restoratives, and in less than two hours the whole party was safe inside the walls of Fellsgarth.

Hot baths, blankets, food, and a little physic, succeeded in a very few days in restoring the invalided truants to their sorrowing class-mates. Fisher minor was the only member of the party about whom any serious uneasiness existed, and he, thanks to a wiry constitution and a rooted dislike to do what nobody else did, got off with a bad cold, which detained him in his house for a fortnight.

Rollitt, as might have been expected, vanished to his own quarters as soon as he had deposited his precious burden into Mr Wakefield's charge. No one heard of his having been to the top. To Fisher's thanks he returned a grumpy "Not at all." And the curious inquiries of others he met by shutting his door and saying "Get out" to any one who entered.

As might be expected also, the Modern seniors were baulked, after all, of their promised vengeance on the rebels. On the contrary, while the fags were making merry on chicken and toasting their toes at the roaring fire in the sanatorium, Clapperton, Brinkman, and Dangle were hauled up into the presence of the head-master, and there seriously reprimanded for the damage done to one of the doors in Mr Forder's house, and cautioned not to let such a breach of discipline happen again, under a pain of severer penalties.

"If you are unable to keep order in your own house," said the doctor cuttingly, "your duty is to report the matter to me, and I will deal with it. Remember that another time."

This incident did not tend to smooth the ruffled plumes of the discomfited heroes.

Still less did another little rebuff, which happened a few days later.

Corder had taken advantage of the general excitement attending the escapade of the juniors to return to his own quarters and attempt once more to resume the privileges of ordinary civilised life. He only partially succeeded. Two or three boys, among whom was Fullerton, who were getting sick of the present state of affairs and longing for football once more, had begun seriously to doubt what advantage was coming to themselves or any one else by the strike. Among these Corder found a temporary shelter. But the authority of the seniors still controlled the general public opinion of the house, and the life of the boycotted boy was still only half tolerable.