MIKE AND PSMITH

By P. G. WODEHOUSE

MEREDITH PRESS / NEW YORK

Copyright 1909 by A. & C. Black

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 1. MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND 2. SEDLEIGH 3. PSMITH 4. STAKING OUT A CLAIM 5. GUERRILLA WARFARE 6. UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS 7. ADAIR 8. MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION 9. THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING 10. ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT 11. THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S 12. THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOR OF JELLICOE 13. JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK LIST 14. MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION 15. ... AND FULFILLS IT 16. PURSUIT 17. THE DECORATION OF SAMMY 18. MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT 19. THE SLEUTH-HOUND 20. A CHECK 21. THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE 22. MAINLY ABOUT SHOES 23. ON THE TRAIL AGAIN 24. THE ADAIR METHOD 25. ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE 26. CLEARING THE AIR 27. IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED 28. MR. DOWNING MOVES 29. THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK 30. SEDLEIGH V. WRYKYN

PREFACE

In Evelyn Waugh's book _Decline and Fall_ his hero, applying for a postas a schoolmaster, is told by the agent, "We class schools in fourgrades--leading school, first-rate school, good school, and school. "Sedleigh in Mike and Psmith would, I suppose, come into the last-namedclass, though not quite as low in it as Mr. Waugh's Llanabba. It is oneof those small English schools with aspirations one day to be able toput the word "public" before their name and to have their headmasterqualified to attend the annual Headmaster's Conference. All it needs isa few more Adairs to get things going. And there is this to be noted, that even at a "school" one gets an excellent education. Its onlydrawback is that it does not play the leading schools or the first-rateschools or even the good schools at cricket. But to Mike, fresh fromWrykyn (a "first-rate school") and Psmith, coming from Eton (a "leadingschool") Sedleigh naturally seemed something of a comedown. It took Mikesome time to adjust himself to it, though Psmith, the philosopher, accepted the change of conditions with his customary equanimity. 

This was the first appearance of Psmith. He came into two other books, _Psmith in the City_ and _Psmith, Journalist_, before becoming happilymarried in _Leave It to Psmith_, but I have always thought that he wasmost at home in this story of English school life. To give full play tohis bland clashings with Authority he needs to have authority to clashwith, and there is none more absolute than that of the masters at anEnglish school. 

Psmith has the distinction of being the only one of my numerouscharacters to be drawn from a living model. A cousin of mine was at Etonwith the son of D'Oyly Carte, the man who produced the Gilbert andSullivan operettas, and one night he told me about this peculiarschoolboy who dressed fastidiously and wore a monocle and who, when oneof the masters inquired after his health, replied "Sir, I grow thinnahand thinnah. " It was all the information I required in order to startbuilding him in a star part. 

If anyone is curious as to what became of Mike and Psmith in later life, I can supply the facts. Mike, always devoted to country life, ran aprosperous farm. Psmith, inevitably perhaps, became an equallyprosperous counselor at the bar like Perry Mason, specializing, likePerry, in appearing for the defense. 

I must apologize, as I did in the preface to _Mike at Wrykyn, _ for allthe cricket in this book. It was unavoidable. There is, however, notquite so much of it this time. 

P. G. Wodehouse. 

1

MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND

If Mike had been in time for breakfast that fatal Easter morning hemight have gathered from the expression on his father's face, as Mr. Jackson opened the envelope containing his school report and read thecontents, that the document in question was not exactly a paean ofpraise from beginning to end. But he was late, as usual. Mike always waslate for breakfast in the holidays. 

When he came down on this particular morning, the meal was nearly over. Mr. Jackson had disappeared, taking his correspondence with him; Mrs. Jackson had gone into the kitchen, and when Mike appeared the thing hadresolved itself into a mere vulgar brawl between Phyllis and Ella forthe jam, while Marjory, recently affecting a grown-up air, looked on ina detached sort of way, as if these juvenile gambols distressed her. 

"Hello, Mike, " she said, jumping up as he entered, "here you are--I'vebeen keeping everything hot for you. "

"Have you? Thanks awfully. I say ... " His eye wandered in mild surpriseround the table. "I'm a bit late. "

Marjory was bustling about, fetching and carrying for Mike, as shealways did. She had adopted him at an early age, and did the thingthoroughly. She was fond of her other brothers, especially when theymade centuries in first-class cricket, but Mike was her favorite. Shewould field out in the deep as a natural thing when Mike was batting atthe net in the paddock, though for the others, even for Joe, who hadplayed in all five Test Matches in the previous summer, she would do itonly as a favor. 

Phyllis and Ella finished their dispute and went out. Marjory sat on thetable and watched Mike eat. 

"Your report came this morning, Mike, " she said. 

The kidneys failed to retain Mike's undivided attention. He looked upinterested. "What did it say?"

"I didn't see--I only caught sight of the Wrykyn crest on the envelope. Father didn't say anything. "

Mike seemed concerned. "I say, that looks rather rotten! I wonder if itwas awfully bad. It's the first I've had from Appleby. "

"It can't be any worse than the horrid ones Mr. Blake used to write whenyou were in his form. "

"No, that's a comfort, " said Mike philosophically. "Think there's anymore tea in that pot?"

"I call it a shame, " said Marjory; "they ought to be jolly glad to haveyou at Wrykyn just for cricket, instead of writing beastly reports thatmake father angry and don't do any good to anybody. "

"Last Christmas he said he'd take me away if I got another one. "

"He didn't mean it really, I _know_ he didn't! He couldn't! You're thebest bat Wrykyn's ever had. "

"What ho!" interpolated Mike. 

"You _are_. Everybody says you are. Why, you got your first the veryfirst term you were there--even Joe didn't do anything nearly so good asthat. Saunders says you're simply bound to play for England in anotheryear or two. "

"Saunders is a jolly good chap. He bowled me a half volley on the offthe first ball I had in a school match. By the way, I wonder if he's outat the net now. Let's go and see. "

Saunders the professional was setting up the net when they arrived. Mikeput on his pads and went to the wicket, while Marjory and the dogsretired as usual to the far hedge to retrieve. 

She was kept busy. Saunders was a good sound bowler of the M. C. C. Minormatch type, and there had been a time when he had worried Mikeconsiderably, but Mike had been in the Wrykyn team for three seasonsnow, and each season he had advanced tremendously in his batting. He hadfilled out in three years. He had always had the style, and now he hadthe strength as well, Saunder's bowling on a true wicket seemed simpleto him. It was early in the Easter holidays, but already he wasbeginning to find his form. Saunders, who looked on Mike as his ownspecial invention, was delighted. 

"If you don't be worried by being too anxious now that you're captain, Master Mike, " he said, "you'll make a century every match next term. "

"I wish I wasn't; it's a beastly responsibility. "

Henfrey, the Wrykyn cricket captain of the previous season, was notreturning next term, and Mike was to reign in his stead. He liked theprospect, but it certainly carried with it a rather awe-inspiringresponsibility. At night sometimes he would lie awake, appalled by thefear of losing his form, or making a hash of things by choosing thewrong men to play for the school and leaving the right men out. It is nolight thing to captain a public school at cricket. 

As he was walking toward the house, Phyllis met him. "Oh, I've beenhunting for you, Mike; Father wants you. "

"What for?"

"I don't know. "

"Where?"

"He's in the study. He seems ... " added Phyllis, throwing in theinformation by a way of a makeweight, "in a beastly temper. "

Mike's jaw fell slightly. "I hope the dickens it's nothing to do withthat bally report, " was his muttered exclamation. 

Mike's dealings with his father were as a rule of a most pleasantnature. Mr. Jackson was an understanding sort of man, who treated hissons as companions. From time to time, however, breezes were apt toruffle the placid sea of good fellowship. Mike's end-of-term report wasan unfailing wind raiser; indeed, on the arrival of Mr. Blake'ssarcastic resume of Mike's shortcomings at the end of the previous term, there had been something not unlike a typhoon. It was on this occasionthat Mr. Jackson had solemnly declared his intention of removing Mikefrom Wrykyn unless the critics became more flattering; and Mr. Jacksonwas a man of his word. 

It was with a certain amount of apprehension, therefore, that Jacksonentered the study. 

"Come in, Mike, " said his father, kicking the waste-paper basket; "Iwant to speak to you. "

Mike, skilled in omens, scented a row in the offing. Only in moments ofemotion was Mr. Jackson in the habit of booting the basket. 

There followed an awkward silence, which Mike broke by remarking that hehad carted a half volley from Saunders over the on-side hedgethat morning. 

"It was just a bit short and off the leg stump, so I stepped out--may Ibag the paper knife for a jiffy? I'll just show--"

"Never mind about cricket now, " said Mr. Jackson; "I want you to listento this report. "

"Oh, is that my report, Father?" said Mike, with a sort of sicklyinterest, much as a dog about to be washed might evince in his tub. 

"It is, " replied Mr. Jackson in measured tones, "your report; what ismore, it is without exception the worst report you have ever had. "

"Oh, I say!" groaned the record-breaker. 

"'His conduct, '" quoted Mr. Jackson, "'has been unsatisfactory in theextreme, both in and out of school. '"

"It wasn't anything really. I only happened--"

Remembering suddenly that what he had happened to do was to drop acannonball (the school weight) on the form-room floor, not once, but onseveral occasions, he paused. 

"'French bad; conduct disgraceful--'"

"Everybody rags in French. "

"'Mathematics bad. Inattentive and idle. '"

"Nobody does much work in Math. "

"'Latin poor. Greek, very poor. '"

"We were doing Thucydides, Book Two, last term--all speeches anddoubtful readings, and cruxes and things--beastly hard! Everybodysays so. "

"Here are Mr. Appleby's remarks: 'The boy has genuine ability, which hedeclines to use in the smallest degree. '"

Mike moaned a moan of righteous indignation. 

"'An abnormal proficiency at games has apparently destroyed all desirein him to realize the more serious issues of life. ' There is more to thesame effect. "

Mr. Appleby was a master with very definite ideas as to what constituteda public-school master's duties. As a man he was distinctly pro-Mike. Heunderstood cricket, and some of Mike's strokes on the off gave himthrills of pure aesthetic joy; but as a master he always made it hishabit to regard the manners and customs of the boys in his form with anunbiased eye, and to an unbiased eye Mike in a form room was about asnear the extreme edge as a boy could be, and Mr. Appleby said as much ina clear firm hand. 

"You remember what I said to you about your report at Christmas, Mike?"said Mr. Jackson, folding the lethal document and replacing it inits envelope. 

Mike said nothing; there was a sinking feeling in his interior. 

"I shall abide by what I said. "

Mike's heart thumped. 

"You will not go back to Wrykyn next term. "

Somewhere in the world the sun was shining, birds were twittering;somewhere in the world lambkins frisked and peasants sang blithely attheir toil (flat, perhaps, but still blithely), but to Mike at thatmoment the sky was black, and an icy wind blew over the face ofthe earth. 

The tragedy had happened, and there was an end of it. He made no attemptto appeal against the sentence. He knew it would be useless, his father, when he made up his mind, having all the unbending tenacity of thenormally easygoing man. 

Mr. Jackson was sorry for Mike. He understood him, and for that reasonhe said very little now. 

"I am sending you to Sedleigh, " was his next remark. 

Sedleigh! Mike sat up with a jerk. He knew Sedleigh by name--one ofthose schools with about a hundred boys which you never hear of exceptwhen they send up their gym team to Aldershot, or their Eight to Bisley. Mike's outlook on life was that of a cricketer, pure and simple. Whathad Sedleigh ever done? What were they ever likely to do? Whom did theyplay? What Old Sedleighan had ever done anything at cricket? Perhapsthey didn't even _play_ cricket!

"But it's an awful hole, " he said blankly. 

Mr. Jackson could read Mike's mind like a book. Mike's point of view wasplain to him. He did not approve of it, but he knew that in Mike's placeand at Mike's age he would have felt the same. He spoke dryly to hidehis sympathy. 

"It is not a large school, " he said, "and I don't suppose it could playWrykyn at cricket, but it has one merit--boys work there. Young Barlittwon a Balliol scholarship from Sedleigh last year. " Barlitt was thevicar's son, a silent, spectacled youth who did not enter very largelyinto Mike's world. They had met occasionally at tennis parties, but notmuch conversation had ensued. Barlitt's mind was massive, but his topicsof conversation were not Mike's. 

"Mr. Barlitt speaks very highly of Sedleigh, " added Mr. Jackson. 

Mike said nothing, which was a good deal better than saying what hewould have liked to have said. 

2

SEDLEIGH

The train, which had been stopping everywhere for the last half hour, pulled up again, and Mike, seeing the name of the station, got up, opened the door, and hurled a bag out on to the platform in an emphaticand vindictive manner. Then he got out himself and looked about him. 

"For the school, sir?" inquired the solitary porter, bustling up, as ifhe hoped by sheer energy to deceive the traveler into thinking thatSedleigh station was staffed by a great army of porters. 

Mike nodded. A somber nod. The nod Napoleon might have given if somebodyhad met him in 1812, and said, "So you're back from Moscow, eh?" Mikewas feeling thoroughly jaundiced. The future seemed wholly gloomy. And, so far from attempting to make the best of things, he had set himselfdeliberately to look on the dark side. He thought, for instance, that hehad never seen a more repulsive porter, or one more obviouslyincompetent than the man who had attached himself with a firm grasp tothe handle of the bag as he strode off in the direction of the luggagevan. He disliked his voice, his appearance, and the color of his hair. Also the boots he wore. He hated the station, and the man who tookhis ticket. 

"Young gents at the school, sir, " said the porter, perceiving fromMike's _distrait_ air that the boy was a stranger to the place, "goes upin the bus mostly. It's waiting here, sir. Hi, George!"

"I'll walk, thanks, " said Mike frigidly. 

"It's a goodish step, sir. "

"Here you are. "

"Thank you, sir. I'll send up your luggage by the bus, sir. Which 'ousewas it you was going to?"

"Outwood's. "

"Right, sir. It's straight on up this road to the school. You can't missit, sir. "

"Worse luck, " said Mike. 

He walked off up the road, sorrier for himself than ever. It was suchabsolutely rotten luck. About now, instead of being on his way to aplace where they probably ran a Halma team instead of a cricket eleven, and played hunt-the-slipper in winter, he would be on the point ofarriving at Wrykyn. And as captain of cricket, at that. Which was thebitter part of it. He had never been in command. For the last twoseasons he had been the star man, going in first, and heading theaverages easily at the end of the season; and the three captains underwhom he had played during his career as a Wrykynian, Burgess, Enderby, and Henfrey, had always been sportsmen to him. But it was not the samething. He had meant to do such a lot for Wrykyn cricket this term. Hehad had an entirely new system of coaching in his mind. Now it mightnever be used. He had handed it on in a letter to Strachan, who would becaptain in his place; but probably Strachan would have some scheme ofhis own. There is nobody who could not edit a paper in the ideal way;and there is nobody who has not a theory of his own about cricketcoaching at school. 

Wrykyn, too, would be weak this year, now that he was no longer there. Strachan was a good, free bat on his day, and, if he survived a fewovers, might make a century in an hour, but he was not to be dependedupon. There was no doubt that Mike's sudden withdrawal meant that Wrykynwould have a bad time that season. And it had been such a wretchedathletic year for the school. The football fifteen had been hopeless, and had lost both the Ripton matches, the return by over sixty points. Sheen's victory in the light weights at Aldershot had been their onesuccess. And now, on top of all this, the captain of cricket was removedduring the Easter holidays. Mike's heart bled for Wrykyn, and he foundhimself loathing Sedleigh and all its works with a great loathing. 

The only thing he could find in its favor was the fact that it was setin a very pretty country. Of a different type from the Wrykyn country, but almost as good. For three miles Mike made his way through woods andpast fields. Once he crossed a river. It was soon after this that hecaught sight, from the top of a hill, of a group of buildings that worean unmistakably schoollike look. 

This must be Sedleigh. 

Ten minutes' walk brought him to the school gates, and a baker's boydirected him to Mr. Outwood's. 

There were three houses in a row, separated from the school buildings bya cricket field. Outwood's was the middle one of these. 

Mike went to the front door and knocked. At Wrykyn he had always chargedin at the beginning of term at the boys' entrance, but this formalreporting of himself at Sedleigh suited his mood. 

He inquired for Mr. Outwood, and was shown into a room lined with books. Presently the door opened, and the housemaster appeared. 

There was something pleasant and homely about Mr. Outwood. In appearancehe reminded Mike of Smee in _Peter Pan_. He had the same eyebrows andpince-nez and the same motherly look. 

"Jackson?" he said mildly. 

"Yes, sir. "

"I am very glad to see you, very glad indeed. Perhaps you would like acup of tea after your journey. I think you might like a cup of tea. Youcome from Crofton, in Shropshire, I understand, Jackson, nearBrindleford? It is a part of the country which I have always wished tovisit. I dare say you have frequently seen the Cluniac Priory of St. Ambrose at Brindleford?"

Mike, who would not have recognized a Cluniac Priory if you had handedhim one on a tray, said he had not. 

"Dear me! You have missed an opportunity which I should have been gladto have. I am preparing a book on Ruined Abbeys and Priories of England, and it has always been my wish to see the Cluniac Priory of St. Ambrose. A deeply interesting relic of the sixteenth century. Bishop Geoffrey, 1133-40--"

"Shall I go across to the boys' part, sir?"

"What? Yes. Oh, yes. Quite so. And perhaps you would like a cup of teaafter your journey? No? Quite so. Quite so. You should make a point ofvisiting the remains of the Cluniac Priory in the summer holidays, Jackson. You will find the matron in her room. In many respects it isunique. The northern altar is in a state of really wonderfulpreservation. It consists of a solid block of masonry five feet long andtwo and a half wide, with chamfered plinth, standing quite free from theapse wall. It will well repay a visit. Good-bye for the present, Jackson, good-bye. "

Mike wandered across to the other side of the house, his gloom visiblydeepened. All alone in a strange school, where they probably playedhopscotch, with a housemaster who offered one cups of tea after one'sjourney and talked about chamfered plinths and apses. It was alittle hard. 

He strayed about, finding his bearings, and finally came to a room whichhe took to be the equivalent of the senior day room at a Wrykyn house. Everywhere else he had found nothing but emptiness. Evidently he hadcome by an earlier train than was usual. But this room was occupied. 

A very long, thin youth, with a solemn face and immaculate clothes, wasleaning against the mantelpiece. As Mike entered, he fumbled in his topleft waistcoat pocket, produced an eyeglass attached to a cord, andfixed it in his right eye. With the help of this aid to vision heinspected Mike in silence for a while, then, having flicked an invisiblespeck of dust from the left sleeve of his coat, he spoke. 

"Hello, " he said. 

He spoke in a tired voice. 

"Hello, " said Mike. 

"Take a seat, " said the immaculate one. "If you don't mind dirtying yourbags, that's to say. Personally, I don't see any prospect of eversitting down in this place. It looks to me as if they meant to use thesechairs as mustard-and-cress beds. A Nursery Garden in the Home. Thatsort of idea. My name, " he added pensively, "is Smith. What's yours?"

3

PSMITH

"Jackson, " said Mike. 

"Are you the Bully, the Pride of the School, or the Boy who is LedAstray and takes to Drink in Chapter Sixteen?"

"The last, for choice, " said Mike, "but I've only just arrived, so Idon't know. "

"The boy--what will he become? Are you new here, too, then?"

"Yes! Why, are you new?"

"Do I look as if I belonged here? I'm the latest import. Sit down onyonder settee, and I will tell you the painful story of my life. By theway, before I start, there's just one thing. If you ever have occasionto write to me, would you mind sticking a P at the beginning of my name?P-s-m-i-t-h. See? There are too many Smiths, and I don't care forSmythe. My father's content to worry along in the old-fashioned way, butI've decided to strike out a fresh line. I shall found a new dynasty. The resolve came to me unexpectedly this morning. I jotted it down onthe back of an envelope. In conversation you may address me as Rupert(though I hope you won't), or simply Smith, the _P_ not being sounded. Compare the name Zbysco, in which the Z is given a similarmiss-in-balk. See?"

Mike said he saw. Psmith thanked him with a certain stately old worldcourtesy. 

"Let us start at the beginning, " he resumed. "My infancy. When I was buta babe, my eldest sister was bribed with a shilling an hour by my nurseto keep an eye on me, and see that I did not raise Cain. At the end ofthe first day she struck for one-and-six, and got it. We now pass to myboyhood. At an early age, I was sent to Eton, everybody predicting abright career for me. But, " said Psmith solemnly, fixing an owl-likegaze on Mike through the eyeglass, "it was not to be. "

"No?" said Mike. 

"No. I was superannuated last term. "

"Bad luck. "

"For Eton, yes. But what Eton loses, Sedleigh gains. "

"But why Sedleigh, of all places?"

"This is the most painful part of my narrative. It seems that a certainscug in the next village to ours happened last year to collar aBalliol--"

"Not Barlitt!" exclaimed Mike. 

"That was the man. The son of the vicar. The vicar told the curate, whotold our curate, who told our vicar, who told my father, who sent me offhere to get a Balliol too. Do _you_ know Barlitt?"

"His father's vicar of our village. It was because his son got a Balliolthat I was sent here. "

"Do you come from Crofton?"

"Yes. "

"I've lived at Lower Benford all my life. We are practically long-lostbrothers. Cheer a little, will you?"

Mike felt as Robinson Crusoe felt when he met Friday. Here was a fellowhuman being in this desert place. He could almost have embraced Psmith. The very sound of the name Lower Benford was heartening. His dislike forhis new school was not diminished, but now he felt that life there mightat least be tolerable. 

"Where were you before you came here?" asked Psmith. "You have heard mypainful story. Now tell me yours. "

"Wrykyn. My father took me away because I got such a lot of badreports. "

"My reports from Eton were simply scurrilous. There's a libel action inevery sentence. How do you like this place, from what you've seenof it?"

"Rotten. "

"I am with you, Comrade Jackson. You won't mind my calling you Comrade, will you? I've just become a socialist. It's a great scheme. You oughtto be one. You work for the equal distribution of property, and start bycollaring all you can and sitting on it. We must stick together. We arecompanions in misfortune. Lost lambs. Sheep that have gone astray. Divided, we fall, together we may worry through. Have you seen ProfessorRadium yet? I should say Mr. Outwood. What do you think of him?"

"He doesn't seem a bad sort of chap. Bit off his nut. Jawed about apsesand things. "

"And thereby, " said Psmith, "hangs a tale. I've been making inquiries ofa stout sportsman in a sort of Salvation Army uniform, whom I met in thegrounds--he's the school sergeant or something, quite a solid man--and Ihear that Comrade Outwood's an archaeological cove. Goes about thecountry beating up old ruins and fossils and things. There's anArchaeological Society in the school, run by him. It goes out onhalf-holidays, prowling about, and is allowed to break bounds andgenerally steep itself to the eyebrows in reckless devilry. And, markyou, laddie, if you belong to the Archaeological Society you get offcricket. To get off cricket, " said Psmith, dusting his right trouserleg, "was the dream of my youth and the aspiration of my riper years. Anoble game, but a bit too thick for me. At Eton I used to have to fieldout at the nets till the soles of my boots wore through. I suppose youare a blood at the game? Play for the school against Loamshire, andso on. "

"I'm not going to play here, at any rate, " said Mike. 

He had made up his mind on this point in the train. There is a certainfascination about making the very worst of a bad job. Achilles knew hisbusiness when he sat in his tent. The determination not to play cricketfor Sedleigh as he could not play for Wrykyn gave Mike a sort ofpleasure. To stand by with folded arms and a somber frown, as it were, was one way of treating the situation, and one not without its meedof comfort. 

Psmith approved the resolve. 

"Stout fellow, " he said. "'Tis well. You and I, hand in hand, willsearch the countryside for ruined abbeys. We will snare the elusivefossil together. Above all, we will go out of bounds. We shall thusimprove our minds, and have a jolly good time as well. I shouldn'twonder if one mightn't borrow a gun from some friendly native, and do abit of rabbit shooting here and there. From what I saw of ComradeOutwood during our brief interview, I shouldn't think he was one of thelynx-eyed contingent. With tact we ought to be able to slip away fromthe merry throng of fossil chasers, and do a bit on our own account. "

"Good idea, " said Mike. "We will. A chap at Wrykyn, called Wyatt, usedto break out at night and shoot at cats with an air pistol. "

"It would take a lot to make me do that. I am all against anything thatinterferes with my sleep. But rabbits in the daytime is a scheme. We'llnose about for a gun at the earliest opp. Meanwhile we'd better go up toComrade Outwood, and get our names shoved down for the Society. "

"I vote we get some tea first somewhere. "

"Then let's beat up a study. I suppose they have studies here. Let's goand look. "

They went upstairs. On the first floor there was a passage with doors oneither side. Psmith opened the first of these. 

"This'll do us well, " he said. 

It was a biggish room, looking out over the school grounds. There were acouple of deal tables, two empty bookcases, and a looking glass, hungon a nail. 

"Might have been made for us, " said Psmith approvingly. 

"I suppose it belongs to some rotter. "

"Not now. "

"You aren't going to collar it!"

"That, " said Psmith, looking at himself earnestly in the mirror, andstraightening his tie, "is the exact program. We must stake out ourclaims. This is practical socialism. "

"But the real owner's bound to turn up some time or other. "

"His misfortune, not ours. You can't expect two masterminds like us topig it in that room downstairs. There are moments when one wants to bealone. It is imperative that we have a place to retire to after afatiguing day. And now, if you want to be really useful, come and helpme fetch up my box from downstairs. It's got a gas ring and variousthings in it. "

4

STAKING OUT A CLAIM

Psmith, in the matter of decorating a study and preparing tea in it, wasrather a critic than an executant. He was full of ideas, but hepreferred to allow Mike to carry them out. It was he who suggested thatthe wooden bar which ran across the window was unnecessary, but it wasMike who wrenched it from its place. Similarly, it was Mike whoabstracted the key from the door of the next study, though the ideawas Psmith's. 

"Privacy, " said Psmith, as he watched Mike light the gas ring, "is whatwe chiefly need in this age of publicity. If you leave a study doorunlocked in these strenuous times, the first thing you know is, somebodycomes right in, sits down, and begins to talk about himself. I thinkwith a little care we ought to be able to make this room quite decentlycomfortable. That putrid calendar must come down, though. Do you thinkyou could make a long arm, and haul it off the parent tintack? Thanks. We make progress. We make progress. "

"We shall jolly well make it out of the window, " said Mike, spooning uptea from a paperbag with a postcard, "if a sort of young Hackenschmidtturns up and claims the study. What are you going to do about it?"

"Don't let us worry about it. I have a presentiment that he will be aninsignificant-looking little weed. How are you getting on with theevening meal?"

"Just ready. What would you give to be at Eton now? I'd give somethingto be at Wrykyn. "

"These school reports, " said Psmith sympathetically, "are the verydickens. Many a bright young lad has been soured by them. Hello, what'sthis, I wonder. "

A heavy body had plunged against the door, evidently without a suspicionthat there would be any resistance. A rattling of the handle followed, and a voice outside said, "Dash the door!"

"Hackenschmidt!" said Mike. 

"The weed, " said Psmith. "You couldn't make a long arm, could you, andturn the key? We had better give this merchant audience. Remind me laterto go on with my remarks on school reports. I had several bright thingsto say on the subject. "

Mike unlocked the door, and flung it open. Framed in the entrance was asmallish, freckled boy, wearing a pork-pie hat and carrying a bag. Onhis face was an expression of mingled wrath and astonishment. 

Psmith rose courteously from his chair, and moved forward with slowstateliness to do the honors. 

"What the dickens, " inquired the newcomer, "are you doing here?"

"We were having a little tea, " said Psmith, "to restore our tissuesafter our journey. Come in and join us. We keep open house, we Psmiths. Let me introduce you to Comrade Jackson. A stout fellow. Homely inappearance, perhaps, but one of us. I am Psmith. Your own name willdoubtless come up in the course of general chitchat over the teacups. "

"My name's Spiller, and this is my study. "

Psmith leaned against the mantelpiece, put up his eyeglass, andharangued Spiller in a philosophical vein. 

"Of all sad words of tongue or pen, " said he, "the saddest are these:'It might have been. ' Too late! That is the bitter cry. If you had tornyourself from the bosom of the Spiller family by an earlier train, allmight have been well. But no. Your father held your hand and saidhuskily, 'Edwin, don't leave us!' Your mother clung to you weeping, andsaid, 'Edwin, stay!' Your sisters--"

"I want to know what--"

"Your sisters froze on to your knees like little octopuses (or octopi), and screamed, 'Don't go, Edwin!' And so, " said Psmith, deeply affectedby his recital, "you stayed on till the later train; and, on arrival, you find strange faces in the familiar room, a people that know notSpiller. " Psmith went to the table, and cheered himself with a sip oftea. Spiller's sad case had moved him greatly. 

The victim of Fate seemed in no way consoled. 

"It's beastly cheek, that's what I call it. Are you new chaps?"

"The very latest thing, " said Psmith. 

"Well, it's beastly cheek. "

Mike's outlook on life was of the solid, practical order. He wentstraight to the root of the matter. 

"What are you going to do about it?" he asked. 

Spiller evaded the question. 

"It's beastly cheek, " he repeated. "You can't go about the place baggingstudies. "

"But we do, " said Psmith. "In this life, Comrade Spiller, we must beprepared for every emergency. We must distinguish between the unusualand the impossible. It is unusual for people to go about the placebagging studies, so you have rashly ordered your life on the assumptionthat it is impossible. Error! Ah, Spiller, Spiller, let this be alesson to you. "

"Look here, I tell you what it--"

"I was in a car with a man once. I said to him: 'What would happen ifyou trod on that pedal thing instead of that other pedal thing?' Hesaid, 'I couldn't. One's the foot brake, and the other's theaccelerator. ' 'But suppose you did?' I said. 'I wouldn't, ' he said. 'Nowwe'll let her rip. ' So he stamped on the accelerator. Only it turned outto be the foot brake after all, and we stopped dead, and skidded into aditch. The advice I give to every young man starting life is: 'Neverconfuse the unusual and the impossible. ' Take the present case. If youhad only realized the possibility of somebody someday collaring yourstudy, you might have thought out dozens of sound schemes for dealingwith the matter. As it is, you are unprepared. The thing comes on you asa surprise. The cry goes round: 'Spiller has been taken unawares. Hecannot cope with the situation. '"

"Can't I! I'll--"

"What _are_ you going to do about it?" said Mike. 

"All I know is, I'm going to have it. It was Simpson's last term, andSimpson's left, and I'm next on the house list, so, of course, it'smy study. "

"But what steps, " said Psmith, "are you going to take? Spiller, the manof Logic, we know. But what of Spiller, the Man of Action? How do youintend to set about it? Force is useless. I was saying to ComradeJackson before you came in, that I didn't mind betting you were aninsignificant-looking little weed. And you _are_ aninsignificant-looking little weed. "

"We'll see what Outwood says about it. "

"Not an unsound scheme. By no means a scaly project. Comrade Jackson andmyself were about to interview him upon another point. We may as wellall go together. "

The trio made their way to the Presence, Spiller pink and determined, Mike sullen, Psmith particularly debonair. He hummed lightly as hewalked, and now and then pointed out to Spiller objects of interest bythe wayside. 

Mr. Outwood received them with the motherly warmth which was evidentlythe leading characteristic of his normal manner. 

"Ah, Spiller, " he said. "And Smith, and Jackson. I am glad to see youhave already made friends. "

"Spiller's, sir, " said Psmith, laying a hand patronizingly on thestudy-claimer's shoulder--a proceeding violently resented bySpiller--"is a character one cannot help but respect. His nature expandsbefore one like some beautiful flower. "

Mr. Outwood received this eulogy with rather a startled expression, andgazed at the object of the tribute in a surprised way. 

"Er--quite so, Smith, quite so, " he said at last. "I like to see boys inmy house friendly toward one another. "

"There is no vice in Spiller, " pursued Psmith earnestly. "His heart isthe heart of a little child. "

"Please, sir, " burst out this paragon of all the virtues, "I--"

"But it was not entirely with regard to Spiller that I wished to speakto you, sir, if you were not too busy. "

"Not at all, Smith, not at all. Is there anything ... "

"Please, sir--" began Spiller

"I understand, sir, " said Psmith, "that there is an ArchaeologicalSociety in the school. "

Mr. Outwood's eyes sparkled behind their pince-nez. It was adisappointment to him that so few boys seemed to wish to belong to hischosen band. Cricket and football, games that left him cold, appeared tobe the main interest in their lives. It was but rarely that he couldinduce new boys to join. His colleague, Mr. Downing, who presided overthe School Fire Brigade, never had any difficulty in finding support. Boys came readily at his call. Mr. Outwood pondered wistfully on this attimes, not knowing that the Fire Brigade owed its support to the factthat it provided its lighthearted members with perfectly unparalleledopportunities for ragging, while his own band, though small, was, in themain, earnest. 

"Yes, Smith, " he said, "Yes. We have a small Archaeological Society. I--er--in a measure look after it. Perhaps you would care to becomea member?"

"Please, sir--" said Spiller. 

"One moment, Spiller. Do you want to join, Smith?"

"Intensely, sir. Archaeology fascinates me. A grand pursuit, sir. "

"Undoubtedly, Smith. I am very pleased, very pleased indeed. I will putdown your name at once. "

"And Jackson's, sir. "

"Jackson, too!" Mr. Outwood beamed. "I am delighted. Most delighted. This is capital. This enthusiasm is most capital. "

"Spiller, sir, " said Psmith sadly, "I have been unable to induce tojoin. "

"Oh, he is one of our oldest members. "

"Ah, " said Psmith, tolerantly, "that accounts for it. "

"Please, sir--" said Spiller. 

"One moment, Spiller. We shall have the first outing of the term onSaturday. We intend to inspect the Roman Camp at Embury Hill, two milesfrom the school. "

"We shall be there, sir. "

"Capital!"

"Please, sir--" said Spiller. 

"One moment, Spiller, " said Psmith. "There is just one other matter, ifyou could spare the time, sir. "

"Certainly, Smith. What is that?"

"Would there be any objection to Jackson and myself taking Simpson's oldstudy?"

"By all means, Smith. A very good idea. "

"Yes, sir. It would give us a place where we could work quietly in theevenings. "

"Quite so. Quite so. "

"Thank you very much, sir. We will move our things in. "

"Thank you very much, sir, " said Mike. 

"Please, sir, " shouted Spiller, "aren't I to have it? I'm next on thelist, sir. I come next after Simpson. Can't I have it?"

"I'm afraid I have already promised it to Smith, Spiller. You shouldhave spoken before. "

"But sir--"

Psmith eyed the speaker pityingly. 

"This tendency to delay, Spiller, " he said, "is your besetting fault. Correct it, Edwin. Fight against it. "

He turned to Mr. Outwood. 

"We should, of course, sir, always be glad to see Spiller in our study. He would always find a cheery welcome waiting there for him. There is noformality between ourselves and Spiller. "

"Quite so. An excellent arrangement, Smith. I like this spirit ofcomradeship in my house. Then you will be with us on Saturday?"

"On Saturday, sir. "

"All this sort of thing, Spiller, " said Psmith, as they closed the door, "is very, very trying for a man of culture. Look us up in our study oneof these afternoons. "

5

GUERRILLA WARFARE

"There are few pleasures, " said Psmith, as he resumed his favoriteposition against the mantelpiece and surveyed the commandeered studywith the pride of a householder, "keener to the reflective mind thansitting under one's own rooftree. This place would have been wasted onSpiller; he would not have appreciated it properly. "

Mike was finishing his tea. "You're a jolly useful chap to have by youin a crisis, Smith, " he said with approval. "We ought to have known eachother before. "

"The loss was mine, " said Psmith courteously. "We will now, with yourpermission, face the future for a while. I suppose you realize that weare now to a certain extent up against it. Spiller's hot Spanish bloodis not going to sit tight and do nothing under a blow like this. "

"What can he do? Outwood's given us the study. "

"What would you have done if somebody had bagged your study?"

"Made it jolly hot for them!"

"So will Comrade Spiller. I take it that he will collect a gang and makean offensive movement against us directly he can. To all appearances weare in a fairly tight place. It all depends on how big Comrade Spiller'sgang will be. I don't like rows, but I'm prepared to take on areasonable number of assailants in defense of the home. "

Mike intimated that he was with him on the point. "The difficulty is, though, " he said, "about when we leave this room. I mean, we're allright while we stick here, but we can't stay all night. "

"That's just what I was about to point out when you put it with suchadmirable clearness. Here we are in a stronghold; they can only get atus through the door, and we can lock that. "

"And jam a chair against it. "

"_And_, as you rightly remark, jam a chair against it. But what of thenightfall? What of the time when we retire to our dormitory?"

"Or dormitories. I say, if we're in separate rooms we shall be in thecart. "

Psmith eyed Mike with approval. "He thinks of everything! You're theman, Comrade Jackson, to conduct an affair of this kind--such foresight!such resource! We must see to this at once; if they put us in differentrooms we're done--we shall be destroyed singly in the watches ofthe night. "

"We'd better nip down to the matron right off. "

"Not the matron--Comrade Outwood is the man. We are as sons to him;there is nothing he can deny us. I'm afraid we are quite spoiling hisafternoon by these interruptions, but we must rout him out once more. "

As they got up, the door handle rattled again, and this time therefollowed a knocking. 

"This must be an emissary of Comrade Spiller's, " said Psmith. "Let usparley with the man. "

Mike unlocked the door. A light-haired youth with a cheerful, rathervacant face and a receding chin strolled into the room, and stoodgiggling with his hands in his pockets. 

"I just came up to have a look at you, " he explained. 

"If you move a little to the left, " said Psmith, "you will catch thelight-and-shade effects on Jackson's face better. "

The newcomer giggled with renewed vigor. "Are you the chap with theeyeglass who jaws all the time?"

"I _do_ wear an eyeglass, " said Psmith; "as to the rest of thedescription--"

"My name's Jellicoe. "

"Mine is Psmith--P-s-m-i-t-h--one of the Shropshire Psmiths. The objecton the skyline is Comrade Jackson. "

"Old Spiller, " giggled Jellicoe, "is cursing you like anythingdownstairs. You _are_ chaps! Do you mean to say you simply bagged hisstudy? He's making no end of a row about it. "

"Spiller's fiery nature is a byword, " said Psmith. 

"What's he going to do?" asked Mike, in his practical way. 

"He's going to get the chaps to turn you out. "

"As I suspected, " sighed Psmith, as one mourning over the frailty ofhuman nature. "About how many horny-handed assistants should you saythat he would be likely to bring? Will you, for instance, join theglad throng?"

"Me? No fear! I think Spiller's an ass. "

"There's nothing like a common thought for binding people together. _I_think Spiller's an ass. "

"How many _will_ there be, then?" asked Mike. 

"He might get about half a dozen, not more, because most of the chapsdon't see why they should sweat themselves just because Spiller's studyhas been bagged. "

"Sturdy common sense, " said Psmith approvingly, "seems to be the chiefvirtue of the Sedleigh character. "

"We shall be able to tackle a crowd like that, " said Mike. "The onlything is we must get into the same dormitory. "

"This is where Comrade Jellicoe's knowledge of the local geography willcome in useful. Do you happen to know of any snug little room, with, say, about four beds in it? How many dormitories are there?"

"Five--there's one with three beds in it, only it belongs to threechaps. "

"I believe in the equal distribution of property. We will go to ComradeOutwood and stake out another claim. "

Mr. Outwood received them even more beamingly than before. "Yes, Smith?"he said. 

"We must apologize for disturbing you, sir--"

"Not at all, Smith, not at all! I like the boys in my house to come tome when they wish for my advice or help. "

"We were wondering, sir, if you would have any objection to Jackson, Jellicoe and myself sharing the dormitory with the three beds in it. Avery warm friendship ... " explained Psmith, patting the gurglingJellicoe kindly on the shoulder, "has sprung up between Jackson, Jellicoe and myself. "

"You make friends easily, Smith. I like to see it--I like to see it. "

"And we can have the room, sir?"

"Certainly--certainly! Tell the matron as you go down. "

"And now, " said Psmith, as they returned to the study, "we may say thatwe are in a fairly winning position. A vote of thanks to ComradeJellicoe for his valuable assistance. "

"You _are_ a chap!" said Jellicoe. 

The handle began to revolve again. 

"That door, " said Psmith, "is getting a perfect incubus! It cuts intoone's leisure cruelly. "

This time it was a small boy. "They told me to come up and tell you tocome down, " he said. 

Psmith looked at him searchingly through his eyeglass. 

"Who?"

"The senior day room chaps. "

"Spiller?"

"Spiller and Robinson and Stone, and some other chaps. "

"They want us to speak to them?"

"They told me to come up and tell you to come down. "

"Go and give Comrade Spiller our compliments and say that we can't comedown, but shall be delighted to see him up here. Things, " he said, asthe messenger departed, "are beginning to move. Better leave the dooropen, I think; it will save trouble. Ah, come in, Comrade Spiller, whatcan we do for you?"

Spiller advanced into the study; the others waited outside, crowding inthe doorway. 

"Look here, " said Spiller, "are you going to clear out of here or not?"

"After Mr. Outwood's kindly thought in giving us the room? You suggest ablack and ungrateful action, Comrade Spiller. "

"You'll get it hot, if you don't. "

"We'll risk it, " said Mike. 

Jellicoe giggled in the background; the drama in the atmosphere appealedto him. His was a simple and appreciative mind. 

"Come on, you chaps, " cried Spiller suddenly. 

There was an inward rush on the enemy's part, but Mike had beenwatching. He grabbed Spiller by the shoulders and ran him back againstthe advancing crowd. For a moment the doorway was blocked, then theweight and impetus of Mike and Spiller prevailed, the enemy gave back, and Mike, stepping into the room again, slammed the door and locked it. 

"A neat piece of work, " said Psmith approvingly, adjusting his tie atthe looking glass. "The preliminaries may now be considered over, thefirst shot has been fired. The dogs of war are now loose. "

A heavy body crashed against the door. 

"They'll have it down, " said Jellicoe. 

"We must act, Comrade Jackson! Might I trouble you just to turn that keyquietly, and the handle, and then to stand by for the next attack. "

There was a scrambling of feet in the passage outside, and then arepetition of the onslaught on the door. This time, however, the door, instead of resisting, swung open, and the human battering ram staggeredthrough into the study. Mike, turning after relocking the door, was justin time to see Psmith, with a display of energy of which one would nothave believed him capable, grip the invader scientifically by an armand a leg. 

Mike jumped to help, but it was needless; the captive was already on thewindowsill. As Mike arrived, Psmith dropped him onto theflowerbed below. 

Psmith closed the window gently and turned to Jellicoe. "Who was ourguest?" he asked, dusting the knees of his trousers where they hadpressed against the wall. 

"Robinson. I say, you _are_ a chap!"

"Robinson, was it? Well, we are always glad to see Comrade Robinson, always. I wonder if anybody else is thinking of calling?"

Apparently frontal attack had been abandoned. Whisperings could be heardin the corridor. 

Somebody hammered on the door. 

"Yes?" called Psmith patiently. 

"You'd better come out, you know; you'll only get it hotter if youdon't. "

"Leave us, Spiller; we would be alone. "

A bell rang in the distance. 

"Tea, " said Jellicoe; "we shall have to go now. "

"They won't do anything till after tea, I shouldn't think, " said Mike. "There's no harm in going out. "

The passage was empty when they opened the door; the call to food wasevidently a thing not to be treated lightly by the enemy. 

In the dining room the beleaguered garrison were the object of generalattention. Everybody turned to look at them as they came in. It wasplain that the study episode had been a topic of conversation. Spiller'sface was crimson, and Robinson's coat sleeve still bore traces ofgarden mold. 

Mike felt rather conscious of the eyes, but Psmith was in his element. His demeanor throughout the meal was that of some whimsical monarchcondescending for a freak to revel with his humble subjects. 

Toward the end of the meal Psmith scribbled a note and passed it toMike. It read: "Directly this is over, nip upstairs as quickly asyou can. "

Mike followed the advice; they were first out of the room. When they hadbeen in the study a few moments, Jellicoe knocked at the door. "Luckyyou two cut away so quick, " he said. "They were going to try and get youinto the senior day room and scrag you there. "

"This, " said Psmith, leaning against the mantelpiece, "is exciting, butit can't go on. We have got for our sins to be in this place for a wholeterm, and if we are going to do the Hunted Fawn business all the time, life in the true sense of the word will become an impossibility. Mynerves are so delicately attuned that the strain would simply reducethem to hash. We are not prepared to carry on a long campaign--the thingmust be settled at once. "

"Shall we go down to the senior day room, and have it out?" said Mike. 

"No, we will play the fixture on our own ground. I think we may take itas tolerably certain that Comrade Spiller and his hired ruffians willtry to corner us in the dormitory tonight. Well, of course, we couldfake up some sort of barricade for the door, but then we should have allthe trouble over again tomorrow and the day after that. Personally Idon't propose to be chivied about indefinitely like this, so I proposethat we let them come into the dormitory, and see what happens. Is thismeeting with me?"

"I think that's sound, " said Mike. "We needn't drag Jellicoe into it. "

"As a matter of fact--if you don't mind ... " began that man of peace. 

"Quite right, " said Psmith; "this is not Comrade Jellicoe's scene atall; he has got to spend the term in the senior day room, whereas wehave our little wooden _châlet_ to retire to in times of stress. ComradeJellicoe must stand out of the game altogether. We shall be glad of hismoral support, but otherwise, _ne pas_. And now, as there won't beanything doing till bedtime, I think I'll collar this table and writehome and tell my people that all is well with their Rupert. "

6

UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS

Jellicoe, that human encyclopedia, consulted on the probable movementsof the enemy, deposed that Spiller, retiring at ten, would make forDormitory One in the same passage, where Robinson also had a bed. Therest of the opposing forces were distributed among other and moredistant rooms. It was probable, therefore, that Dormitory One would bethe rendezvous. As to the time when an attack might be expected, it wasunlikely that it would occur before half past eleven. Mr. Outwood wentthe round of the dormitories at eleven. 

"And touching, " said Psmith, "the matter of noise, must this business beconducted in a subdued and _sotto voce_ manner, or may we let ourselvesgo a bit here and there?"

"I shouldn't think old Outwood's likely to hear you--he sleeps milesaway on the other side of the house. He never hears anything. We oftenrag half the night and nothing happens. "

"This appears to be a thoroughly nice, well-conducted establishment. What would my mother say if she could see her Rupert in the midst ofthese reckless youths!"

"All the better, " said Mike; "we don't want anybody butting in andstopping the show before it's half started. "

"Comrade Jackson's berserk blood is up--I can hear it sizzling. I quiteagree these things are all very disturbing and painful, but it's as wellto do them thoroughly when one's once in for them. Is there nobody elsewho might interfere with our gambols?"

"Barnes might, " said Jellicoe, "only he won't. "

"Who is Barnes?"

"Head of the house--a rotter. He's in a funk of Stone and Robinson; theyrag him; he'll simply sit tight. "

"Then I think, " said Psmith placidly, "we may look forward to a verypleasant evening. Shall we be moving?"

Mr. Outwood paid his visit at eleven, as predicted by Jellicoe, beamingvaguely into the darkness over a torch, and disappeared again, closing the door. 

"How about that door?" said Mike. "Shall we leave it open for them?"

"Not so, but far otherwise. If it's shut we shall hear them at it whenthey come. Subject to your approval, Comrade Jackson, I have evolved thefollowing plan of action. I always ask myself on these occasions, 'Whatwould Napoleon have done?' I think Napoleon would have sat in a chair byhis washhand stand, which is close to the door; he would have posted youby your washhand stand, and he would have instructed Comrade Jellicoe, directly he heard the door handle turned, to give his celebratedimitation of a dormitory breathing heavily in its sleep. Hewould then--"

"I tell you what, " said Mike, "How about tying a string at the top ofthe steps?"

"Yes, Napoleon would have done that, too. Hats off to Comrade Jackson, the man with the big brain!"

The floor of the dormitory was below the level of the door. There werethree steps leading down to it. Psmith switched on his torch and theyexamined the ground. The leg of a wardrobe and the leg of Jellicoe's bedmade it possible for the string to be fastened in a satisfactory manneracross the lower step. Psmith surveyed the result with approval. 

"Dashed neat!" he said. "Practically the sunken road which dished theCuirassiers at Waterloo. I seem to see Comrade Spiller coming one of thefinest purlers in the world's history. "

"If they've got a torch--"

"They won't have. If they have, stand by and grab it at once; thenthey'll charge forward and all will be well. If they have no light, fireinto the brown with a jug of water. Lest we forget, I'll collar ComradeJellicoe's jug now and keep it handy. A couple of sheets would also notbe amiss--we will enmesh the enemy!"

"Right ho!" said Mike. 

"These humane preparations being concluded, " said Psmith, "we willretire to our posts and wait. Comrade Jellicoe, don't forget to breathelike an asthmatic sheep when you hear the door opened; they may wait atthe top of the steps, listening. "

"You _are_ a lad!" said Jellicoe. 

Waiting in the dark for something to happen is always a tryingexperience, especially if, as on this occasion, silence is essential. Mike was tired after his journey, and he had begun to doze when he wasjerked back to wakefulness by the stealthy turning of the door handle;the faintest rustle from Psmith's direction followed, and a slightgiggle, succeeded by a series of deep breaths, showed that Jellicoe, too, had heard the noise. 

There was a creaking sound. 

It was pitch-dark in the dormitory, but Mike could follow the invaders'movements as clearly as if it had been broad daylight. They had openedthe door and were listening. Jellicoe's breathing grew more asthmatic;he was flinging himself into his part with the wholeheartedness of thetrue artist. 

The creak was followed by a sound of whispering, then another creak. Theenemy had advanced to the top step.... Another creak.... The vanguardhad reached the second step.... In another moment--

CRASH!

And at that point the proceedings may be said to have formally opened. 

A struggling mass bumped against Mike's shins as he rose from his chair;he emptied his jug onto this mass, and a yell of anguish showed that thecontents had got to the right address. 

Then a hand grabbed his ankle and he went down, a million sparks dancingbefore his eyes as a fist, flying out at a venture, caught him onthe nose. 

Mike had not been well disposed toward the invaders before, but now heran amok, hitting out right and left at random. His right missed, buthis left went home hard on some portion of somebody's anatomy. A kickfreed his ankle and he staggered to his feet. At the same moment asudden increase in the general volume of noise spoke eloquently of goodwork that was being put in by Psmith. 

Even at that crisis, Mike could not help feeling that if a row of thiscaliber did not draw Mr. Outwood from his bed, he must be an unusualkind of housemaster. 

He plunged forward again with outstretched arms, and stumbled and fellover one of the on-the-floor section of the opposing force. They seizedeach other earnestly and rolled across the room till Mike, contriving tosecure his adversary's head, bumped it on the floor with such abandonthat, with a muffled yell, the other let go, and for the second time herose. As he did so he was conscious of a curious thudding sound thatmade itself heard through the other assorted noises of the battle. 

All this time the fight had gone on in the blackest darkness, but now alight shone on the proceedings. Interested occupants of otherdormitories, roused from their slumbers, had come to observe the sport. They had switched on the light and were crowding in the doorway. 

By the light of this Mike got a swift view of the theater of war. Theenemy appeared to number five. The warrior whose head Mike had bumped onthe floor was Robinson, who was sitting up feeling his skull in agingerly fashion. To Mike's right, almost touching him, was Stone. Inthe direction of the door, Psmith, wielding in his right hand the cordof a dressing gown, was engaging the remaining three with apatient smile. 

They were clad in pajamas, and appeared to be feeling the dressing-gowncord acutely. 

The sudden light dazed both sides momentarily. The defense was the firstto recover, Mike, with a swing, upsetting Stone, and Psmith, havingseized and emptied Jellicoe's jug over Spiller, getting to work againwith the cord in a manner that roused the utmost enthusiasm of thespectators. 

Agility seemed to be the leading feature of Psmith's tactics. He waseverywhere--on Mike's bed, on his own, on Jellicoe's (drawing apassionate complaint from that noncombatant, on whose face heinadvertently trod), on the floor--he ranged the room, sowingdestruction. 

The enemy were disheartened; they had started with the idea that thiswas to be a surprise attack, and it was disconcerting to find thegarrison armed at all points. Gradually they edged to the door, and afinal rush sent them through. 

"Hold the door for a second, " cried Psmith, and vanished. Mike was alonein the doorway. 

It was a situation which exactly suited his frame of mind; he stoodalone in direct opposition to the community into which Fate hadpitchforked him so abruptly. He liked the feeling; for the first timesince his father had given him his views upon school reports thatmorning in the Easter holidays, he felt satisfied with life. He hoped, outnumbered as he was, that the enemy would come on again and not givethe thing up in disgust; he wanted more. 

On an occasion like this there is rarely anything approaching concertedaction on the part of the aggressors. When the attack came, it was not acombined attack; Stone, who was nearest to the door, made a sudden dashforward, and Mike hit him under the chin. 

Stone drew back, and there was another interval for rest and reflection. 

It was interrupted by the reappearance of Psmith, who strolled backalong the passage swinging his dressing-gown cord as if it were someclouded cane. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Comrade Jackson, " he said politely. "Dutycalled me elsewhere. With the kindly aid of a guide who knows the lie ofthe land, I have been making a short tour of the dormitories. I havepoured divers jugfuls of water over Comrade Spiller's bed, ComradeRobinson's bed, Comrade Stone's--Spiller, Spiller, these are harshwords; where you pick them up I can't think--not from me. Well, well, Isuppose there must be an end to the pleasantest of functions. Goodnight, good night. "

The door closed behind Mike and himself. For ten minutes shufflings andwhisperings went on in the corridor, but nobody touched the handle. 

Then there was a sound of retreating footsteps, and silence reigned. 

On the following morning there was a notice on the house board. It ran:

 INDOOR GAMES

 _Dormitory raiders are informed that in future neither Mr. Psmith nor Mr. Jackson will be at home to visitors. This nuisance must now cease. _

 R. PSMITH. M. JACKSON. 

7

ADAIR

On the same morning Mike met Adair for the first time. 

He was going across to school with Psmith and Jellicoe, when a group ofthree came out of the gate of the house next door. 

"That's Adair, " said Jellicoe, "in the middle. "

His voice had assumed a tone almost of awe. 

"Who's Adair?" asked Mike. 

"Captain of cricket, and lots of other things. "

Mike could only see the celebrity's back. He had broad shoulders andwiry, light hair, almost white. He walked well, as if he were used torunning. Altogether a fit-looking sort of man. Even Mike's jaundicedeye saw that. 

As a matter of fact, Adair deserved more than a casual glance. He wasthat rare type, the natural leader. Many boys and men, if accident, orthe passage of time, places them in a position where they are expectedto lead, can handle the job without disaster; but that is a verydifferent thing from being a born leader. Adair was of the sort thatcomes to the top by sheer force of character and determination. He wasnot naturally clever at work, but he had gone at it with a doggedresolution which had carried him up the school, and landed him high inthe Sixth. As a cricketer he was almost entirely self-taught. Nature hadgiven him a good eye, and left the thing at that. Adair's doggedness hadtriumphed over her failure to do her work thoroughly. At the cost ofmore trouble than most people give to their life work he had madehimself into a bowler. He read the authorities, and watched first-classplayers, and thought the thing out on his own account, and he dividedthe art of bowling into three sections. First, and mostimportant--pitch. Second on the list--break. Third--pace. He set himselfto acquire pitch. He acquired it. Bowling at his own pace and withoutany attempt at break, he could now drop the ball on an envelope seventimes out of ten. 

Break was a more uncertain quantity. Sometimes he could get it at theexpense of pitch, sometimes at the expense of pace. Some days he couldget all three, and then he was an uncommonly bad man to face on anythingbut a plumb wicket. 

Running he had acquired in a similar manner. He had nothing approachingstyle, but he had twice won the mile and half mile at the Sports offelegant runners, who knew all about stride and the correct timing of thesprints and all the rest of it. 

Briefly, he was a worker. He had heart. 

A boy of Adair's type is always a force in a school. In a big publicschool or six or seven hundred, his influence is felt less; but in asmall school like Sedleigh he is like a tidal wave, sweeping all beforehim. There were two hundred boys at Sedleigh, and there was not one ofthem in all probability who had not, directly or indirectly, beeninfluenced by Adair. As a small boy his sphere was not large, but theeffects of his work began to be apparent even then. It is human natureto want to get something which somebody else obviously values very much;and when it was observed by members of his form that Adair was going togreat trouble and inconvenience to secure a place in the form eleven orfifteen, they naturally began to think, too, that it was worth being inthose teams. The consequence was that his form always played hard. Thismade other forms play hard. And the net result was that, when Adairsucceeded to the captaincy of Rugger and cricket in the same year, Sedleigh, as Mr. Downing, Adair's housemaster and the nearest approachto a cricket master that Sedleigh possessed, had a fondness for saying, was a keen school. As a whole, it both worked and played with energy. 

All it wanted now was opportunity. 

This Adair was determined to give it. He had that passionate fondnessfor his school which every boy is popularly supposed to have, but whichreally is implanted in about one in every thousand. The averagepublic-school boy _likes_ his school. He hopes it will lick Bedford atRugger and Malvern at cricket, but he rather bets it won't. He is sorryto leave, and he likes going back at the end of the holidays, but as forany passionate, deep-seated love of the place, he would think it ratherbad form than otherwise. If anybody came up to him, slapped him on theback, and cried, "Come along, Jenkins, my boy! Play up for the oldschool, Jenkins! The dear old school! The old place you love so!" hewould feel seriously ill. 

Adair was the exception. 

To Adair, Sedleigh was almost a religion. Both his parents were dead;his guardian, with whom he spent the holidays, was a man with neuralgiaat one end of him and gout at the other; and the only really pleasanttimes Adair had had, as far back as he could remember, he owed toSedleigh. The place had grown on him, absorbed him. Where Mike, violently transplanted from Wrykyn, saw only a wretched little hole notto be mentioned in the same breath with Wrykyn, Adair, dreaming of thefuture, saw a colossal establishment, a public school among publicschools, a lump of human radium, shooting out Blues and Balliol Scholarsyear after year without ceasing. 

It would not be so till long after he was gone and forgotten, but he didnot mind that. His devotion to Sedleigh was purely unselfish. He did notwant fame. All he worked for was that the school should grow and grow, keener and better at games and more prosperous year by year, till itshould take its rank among _the_ schools, and to be an Old Sedleighanshould be a badge passing its owner everywhere. 

"He's captain of cricket and Rugger, " said Jellicoe impressively. "He'sin the shooting eight. He's won the mile and half mile two yearsrunning. He would have boxed at Aldershot last term, only he sprainedhis wrist. And he plays fives jolly well!"

"Sort of little tin god, " said Mike, taking a violent dislike to Adairfrom that moment. 

Mike's actual acquaintance with this all-round man dated from the dinnerhour that day. Mike was walking to the house with Psmith. Psmith was alittle ruffled on account of a slight passage-of-arms he had had withhis form master during morning school. 

"'There's a P before the Smith, ' I said to him. 'Ah, P. Smith, I see, 'replied the goat. 'Not Peasmith, ' I replied, exercising wonderfulself-restraint, 'just Psmith. ' It took me ten minutes to drive the thinginto the man's head; and when I _had_ driven it in, he sent me out ofthe room for looking at him through my eyeglass. Comrade Jackson, I fearme we have fallen among bad men. I suspect that we are going to be muchpersecuted by scoundrels. "

"Both you chaps play cricket, I suppose?"

They turned. It was Adair. Seeing him face to face, Mike was aware of apair of very bright blue eyes and a square jaw. In any other place andmood he would have liked Adair at sight. His prejudice, however, againstall things Sedleighan was too much for him. "I don't, " he said shortly. 

"Haven't you _ever_ played?"

"My little sister and I sometimes play with a soft ball at home. "

Adair looked sharply at him. A temper was evidently one of his numerousqualities. 

"Oh, " he said. "Well, perhaps you wouldn't mind turning out thisafternoon and seeing what you can do with a hard ball--if you can managewithout your little sister. "

"I should think the form at this place would be about on a level withhers. But I don't happen to be playing cricket, as I think I told you. "

Adair's jaw grew squarer than ever. Mike was wearing a gloomy scowl. 

Psmith joined suavely in the dialogue. 

"My dear old comrades, " he said, "Don't let us brawl over this matter. This is a time for the honeyed word, the kindly eye, and the pleasantsmile. Let me explain to Comrade Adair. Speaking for Comrade Jackson andmyself, we should both be delighted to join in the mimic warfare of ourNational Game, as you suggest, only the fact is, we happen to be theYoung Archaeologists. We gave in our names last night. When you arebeing carried back to the pavilion after your century againstLoamshire--do you play Loamshire?--we shall be grubbing in the hardground for ruined abbeys. The old choice between Pleasure and Duty, Comrade Adair. A Boy's Crossroads. "

"Then you won't play?"

"No, " said Mike. 

"Archaeology, " said Psmith, with a deprecatory wave of the hand, "willbrook no divided allegiance from her devotees. "

Adair turned, and walked on. 

Scarcely had he gone, when another voice hailed them with precisely thesame question. 

"Both you fellows are going to play cricket, eh?"

It was a master. A short, wiry little man with a sharp nose and ageneral resemblance, both in manner and appearance, to an excitablebullfinch. 

"I saw Adair speaking to you. I suppose you will both play. I like everynew boy to begin at once. The more new blood we have, the better. Wewant keenness here. We are, above all, a keen school. I want every boyto be keen. "

"We are, sir, " said Psmith, with fervor. 

"Excellent. "

"On archaeology. "

Mr. Downing--for it was no less a celebrity--started, as one whoperceives a loathly caterpillar in his salad. 

"Archaeology!"

"We gave in our names to Mr. Outwood last night, sir. Archaeology is apassion with us, sir. When we heard that there was a society here, wewent singing about the house. "

"I call it an unnatural pursuit for boys, " said Mr. Downing vehemently. "I don't like it. I tell you I don't like it. It is not for me tointerfere with one of my colleagues on the staff, but I tell you franklythat in my opinion it is an abominable waste of time for a boy. It getshim into idle, loafing habits. "

"I never loaf, sir, " said Psmith. 

"I was not alluding to you in particular. I was referring to theprinciple of the thing. A boy ought to be playing cricket with otherboys, not wandering at large about the country, probably smoking andgoing into low public houses. "

"A very wild lot, sir, I fear, the Archaeological Society here, " sighedPsmith, shaking his head. 

"If you choose to waste your time, I suppose I can't hinder you. But inmy opinion it is foolery, nothing else. "

He stumped off. 

"Now _he's_ cross, " said Psmith, looking after him. "I'm afraid we'regetting ourselves disliked here. "

"Good job, too. "

"At any rate, Comrade Outwood loves us. Let's go on and see what sort ofa lunch that large-hearted fossil fancier is going to give us. "

8

MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION

There was more than one moment during the first fortnight of term whenMike found himself regretting the attitude he had imposed upon himselfwith regard to Sedleighan cricket. He began to realize the eternal truthof the proverb about half a loaf and no bread. In the first flush of hisresentment against his new surroundings he had refused to play cricket. And now he positively ached for a game. Any sort of a game. An inningsfor a Kindergarten _v_. The Second Eleven of a Home of Rest forCentenarians would have soothed him. There were times, when the sunshone, and he caught sight of white flannels on a green ground, andheard the "plonk" of bat striking ball, when he felt like rushing toAdair and shouting, "I _will_ be good. I was in the Wrykyn team threeyears, and had an average of over fifty the last two seasons. Lead me tothe nearest net, and let me feel a bat in my hands again. "

But every time he shrank from such a climb down. It couldn't be done. 

What made it worse was that he saw, after watching behind the nets onceor twice, that Sedleigh cricket was not the childish burlesque of thegame which he had been rash enough to assume that it must be. Numbers donot make good cricket. They only make the presence of good cricketersmore likely, by the law of averages. 

Mike soon saw that cricket was by no means an unknown art at Sedleigh. Adair, to begin with, was a very good bowler indeed. He was not aBurgess, but Burgess was the only Wrykyn bowler whom, in his threeyears' experience of the school, Mike would have placed above him. Hewas a long way better than Neville-Smith, and Wyatt, and Milton, and theothers who had taken wickets for Wrykyn. 

The batting was not so good, but there were some quite capable men. Barnes, the head of Outwood's, he who preferred not to interfere withStone and Robinson, was a mild, rather timid-looking youth--not unlikewhat Mr. Outwood must have been as a boy--but he knew how to keep ballsout of his wicket. He was a good bat of the old plodding type. 

Stone and Robinson themselves, that swashbuckling pair, who now treatedMike and Psmith with cold but consistent politeness, were both fairbatsmen, and Stone was a good slow bowler. 

There were other exponents of the game, mostly in Downing's house. 

Altogether, quite worthy colleagues even for a man who had been a starat Wrykyn. 

 * * * * *

One solitary overture Mike made during that first fortnight. He did notrepeat the experiment. 

It was on a Thursday afternoon, after school. The day was warm, butfreshened by an almost imperceptible breeze. The air was full of thescent of the cut grass which lay in little heaps behind the nets. Thisis the real cricket scent, which calls to one like the very voice ofthe game. 

Mike, as he sat there watching, could stand it no longer. 

He went up to Adair. 

"May I have an innings at this net?" he asked. He was embarrassed andnervous, and was trying not to show it. The natural result was that hismanner was offensively abrupt. 

Adair was taking off his pads after his innings. He looked up. "Thisnet, " it may be observed, was the first eleven net. 

"What?" he said. 

Mike repeated his request. More abruptly this time, from increasedembarrassment. 

"This is the first eleven net, " said Adair coldly. "Go in after Lodgeover there. "

"Over there" was the end net, where frenzied novices were bowling on acorrugated pitch to a red-haired youth with enormous feet, who looked asif he were taking his first lesson at the game. 

Mike walked away without a word. 

 * * * * *

The Archaeological Society expeditions, even though they carried withthem the privilege of listening to Psmith's views of life, proved but apoor substitute for cricket. Psmith, who had no counterattractionshouting to him that he ought to be elsewhere, seemed to enjoy themhugely, but Mike almost cried sometimes from boredom. It was not alwayspossible to slip away from the throng, for Mr. Outwood evidently lookedupon them as among the very faithful, and kept them by his side. 

Mike on these occasions was silent and jumpy, his brow "sicklied o'erwith the pale cast of care. " But Psmith followed his leader with thepleased and indulgent air of a father whose infant son is showing himround the garden. Psmith's attitude toward archaeological researchstruck a new note in the history of that neglected science. He wasamiable, but patronizing. He patronized fossils, and he patronizedruins. If he had been confronted with the Great Pyramid, he would havepatronized that. 

He seemed to be consumed by a thirst for knowledge. 

That this was not altogether a genuine thirst was proved in the thirdexpedition. Mr. Outwood and his band were pecking away at the site of anold Roman camp. Psmith approached Mike. 

"Having inspired confidence, " he said, "by the docility of our demeanor, let us slip away, and brood apart for awhile. Roman camps, to beabsolutely accurate, give me the pip. And I never want to see anotherputrid fossil in my life. Let us find some shady nook where a man maylie on his back for a bit. "

Mike, over whom the proceedings connected with the Roman camp had longsince begun to shed a blue depression, offered no opposition, and theystrolled away down the hill. 

Looking back, they saw that the archaeologists were still hard at it. Their departure had passed unnoticed. 

"A fatiguing pursuit, this grubbing for mementos of the past, " saidPsmith. "And, above all, dashed bad for the knees of the trousers. Mineare like some furrowed field. It's a great grief to a man of refinement, I can tell you, Comrade Jackson. Ah, this looks a likely spot. "

They had passed through a gate into the field beyond. At the farther endthere was a brook, shaded by trees and running with a pleasant soundover pebbles. 

"Thus far, " said Psmith, hitching up the knees of his trousers, andsitting down, "and no farther. We will rest here awhile, and listen tothe music of the brook. In fact, unless you have anything important tosay, I rather think I'll go to sleep. In this busy life of ours thesenaps by the wayside are invaluable. Call me in about an hour. " AndPsmith, heaving the comfortable sigh of the worker who by toil hasearned rest, lay down, with his head against a mossy tree stump, andclosed his eyes. 

Mike sat on for a few minutes, listening to the water and makingcenturies in his mind, and then, finding this a little dull, he got up, jumped the brook, and began to explore the wood on the other side. 

He had not gone many yards when a dog emerged suddenly from theundergrowth, and began to bark vigorously at him. 

Mike liked dogs, and, on acquaintance, they always liked him. But whenyou meet a dog in someone else's wood, it is as well not to stop inorder that you may get to understand each other. Mike began to threadhis way back through the trees. 

He was too late. 

"Stop! What the dickens are you doing here?" shouted a voice behind him. 

In the same situation a few years before, Mike would have carried on, and trusted to speed to save him. But now there seemed a lack of dignityin the action. He came back to where the man was standing. 

"I'm sorry if I'm trespassing, " he said. "I was just having a lookround. "

"The dickens you--Why, you're Jackson!"

Mike looked at him. He was a short, broad young man with a fairmoustache. Mike knew that he had seen him before somewhere, but he couldnot place him. 

"I played against you, for the Free Foresters last summer. In passingyou seem to be a bit of a free forester yourself, dancing in among mynesting pheasants. "

"I'm frightfully sorry. "

"That's all right. Where do you spring from?"

"Of course--I remember you now. You're Prendergast. You made fifty-eightnot out. "

"Thanks. I was afraid the only thing you would remember about me wasthat you took a century mostly off my bowling. "

"You ought to have had me second ball, only cover dropped it. "

"Don't rake up forgotten tragedies. How is it you're not at Wrykyn? Whatare you doing down here?"

"I've left Wrykyn. "

Prendergast suddenly changed the conversation. When a fellow tells youthat he has left school unexpectedly, it is not always tactful toinquire the reason. He began to talk about himself. 

"I hang out down here. I do a little farming and a good deal ofputtering about. "

"Get any cricket?" asked Mike, turning to the subject next his heart. 

"Only village. Very keen, but no great shakes. By the way, how are youoff for cricket now? Have you ever got a spare afternoon?"

Mike's heart leaped. 

"Any Wednesday or Saturday. Look here, I'll tell you how it is. "

And he told how matters stood with him. 

"So, you see, " he concluded, "I'm supposed to be hunting for ruins andthings"--Mike's ideas on the subject of archaeology were vague--"but Icould always slip away. We all start out together, but I could nip back, get onto my bike--I've got it down here--and meet you anywhere youliked. By Jove, I'm simply dying for a game. I can hardly keep my handsoff a bat. "

"I'll give you all you want. What you'd better do is to ride straight toLower Borlock--that's the name of the place--and I'll meet you on theground. Anyone will tell you where Lower Borlock is. It's just off theLondon road. There's a signpost where you turn off. Can you come nextSaturday?"

"Rather. I suppose you can fix me up with a bat and pads? I don't wantto bring mine. "

"I'll lend you everything. I say, you know, we can't give you a Wrykynwicket. The Lower Borlock pitch isn't a shirt front. "

"I'll play on a rockery, if you want me to, " said Mike. 

 * * * * *

"You're going to what?" asked Psmith, sleepily, on being awakened andtold the news. 

"I'm going to play cricket, for a village near here. I say, don't tell asoul, will you? I don't want it to get about, or I may get lugged in toplay for the school. "

"My lips are sealed. I think I'll come and watch you. Cricket I dislike, but watching cricket is one of the finest of Britain's manly sports. I'll borrow Jellicoe's bicycle. "

 * * * * *

That Saturday, Lower Borlock smote the men of Chidford hip and thigh. Their victory was due to a hurricane innings of seventy-five by anewcomer to the team, M. Jackson. 

9

THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING

Cricket is the great safety valve. If you like the game, and are in aposition to play it at least twice a week, life can never be entirelygray. As time went on, and his average for Lower Borlock reached thefifties and stayed there, Mike began, though he would not have admittedit, to enjoy himself. It was not Wrykyn, but it was a very decentsubstitute. 

The only really considerable element making for discomfort now was Mr. Downing. By bad luck it was in his form that Mike had been placed onarrival; and Mr. Downing, never an easy form master to get on with, proved more than usually difficult in his dealings with Mike. 

They had taken a dislike to each other at their first meeting; and itgrew with further acquaintance. To Mike, Mr. Downing was all that amaster ought not to be, fussy, pompous, and openly influenced in hisofficial dealings with his form by his own private likes and dislikes. To Mr. Downing, Mike was simply an unamiable loafer, who did nothing forthe school and apparently had none of the healthy instincts which shouldbe implanted in the healthy boy. Mr. Downing was rather strong on thehealthy boy. 

The two lived in a state of simmering hostility, punctuated at intervalsby crises, which usually resulted in Lower Borlock having to play someunskilled laborer in place of their star batsman, employed doing"overtime. "

One of the most acute of these crises, and the most important, in thatit was the direct cause of Mike's appearance in Sedleigh cricket, had todo with the third weekly meeting of the School Fire Brigade. 

It may be remembered that this well-supported institution was under Mr. Downing's special care. It was, indeed, his pet hobby and the appleof his eye. 

Just as you had to join the Archaeological Society to secure the esteemof Mr. Outwood, so to become a member of the Fire Brigade was a safepassport to the regard of Mr. Downing. To show a keenness for cricketwas good, but to join the Fire Brigade was best of all. 

The Brigade was carefully organized. At its head was Mr. Downing, a sortof high priest; under him was a captain, and under the captain avice-captain. These two officials were those sportive allies, Stone andRobinson, of Outwood's house, who, having perceived at a very early datethe gorgeous opportunities for ragging which the Brigade offered to itsmembers, had joined young and worked their way up. 

Under them were the rank and file, about thirty in all, of whom perhapsseven were earnest workers, who looked on the Brigade in the right, orDowning, spirit. The rest were entirely frivolous. 

The weekly meetings were always full of life and excitement. 

At this point it is as well to introduce Sammy to the reader. 

Sammy, short for Sampson, was a young bull terrier belonging to Mr. Downing. If it is possible for a man to have two apples of his eye, Sammy was the other. He was a large, lighthearted dog with a white coat, an engaging expression, the tongue of an anteater, and a manner whichwas a happy blend of hurricane and circular saw. He had long legs, atenor voice, and was apparently made of India rubber. 

Sammy was a great favorite in the school, and a particular friend ofMike's, the Wrykynian being always a firm ally of every dog he met aftertwo minutes' acquaintance. 

In passing, Jellicoe owned a clockwork rat, much in request duringFrench lessons. 

We will now proceed to the painful details. 

 * * * * *

The meetings of the Fire Brigade were held after school in Mr. Downing'sform room. The proceedings always began in the same way, by the readingof the minutes of the last meeting. After that the entertainment variedaccording to whether the members happened to be fertile or not in ideasfor the disturbing of the peace. 

Today they were in very fair form. 

As soon as Mr. Downing had closed the minute book, Wilson, of the SchoolHouse, held up his hand. 

"Well, Wilson?"

"Please, sir, couldn't we have a uniform for the Brigade?"

"A uniform?" Mr. Downing pondered. 

"Red, with green stripes, sir. "

Red, with a thin green stripe, was the Sedleigh color. 

"Shall I put it to the vote, sir?" asked Stone. 

"One moment, Stone. "

"Those in favor of the motion move to the left, those against it to theright. "

A scuffling of feet, a slamming of desk lids and an upset blackboard, and the meeting had divided. 

Mr. Downing rapped irritably on his desk. 

"Sit down!" he said. "Sit down! I won't have this noise and disturbance. Stone, sit down--Wilson, get back to your place. "

"Please, sir, the motion is carried by twenty-five votes to six. "

"Please, sir, may I go and get measured this evening?"

"Please, sir--"

"Si-_lence!_ The idea of a uniform is, of course, out of the question. "

"Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!"

"Be _quiet!_ Entirely out of the question. We cannot plunge intoneedless expense. Stone, listen to me. I cannot have this noise anddisturbance! Another time when a point arises it must be settled by ashow of hands. Well, Wilson?"

"Please, sir, may we have helmets?"

"Very useful as a protection against falling timbers, sir, " saidRobinson. 

"I don't think my people would be pleased, sir, if they knew I was goingout to fires without a helmet, " said Stone. 

The whole strength of the company: "Please, sir, may we have helmets?"

"Those in favor ... " began Stone. 

Mr. Downing banged on his desk. "Silence! Silence!! Silence!!! Helmetsare, of course, perfectly preposterous. "

"Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!"

"But, sir, the danger!"

"Please, sir, the falling timbers!"

The Fire Brigade had been in action once and once only in the memory ofman, and that time it was a haystack which had burned itself out just asthe rescuers had succeeded in fastening the hose to the hydrant. 

"Silence!"

"Then, please, sir, couldn't we have an honor cap? It wouldn't beexpensive, and it would be just as good as a helmet for all the timbersthat are likely to fall on our heads. "

Mr. Downing smiled a wry smile. 

"Our Wilson is facetious, " he remarked frostily. 

"Sir, no, sir! I wasn't facetious! Or couldn't we have tasseled capslike the first fifteen have? They--"

"Wilson, leave the room!"

"Sir, _please_, sir!"

"This moment, Wilson. And, " as he reached the door, "do me one hundredlines. "

A pained "OO-oo-oo, sir-r-r, " was cut off by the closing door. 

Mr. Downing proceeded to improve the occasion. "I deplore this growingspirit of flippancy, " he said. "I tell you I deplore it! It is notright! If this Fire Brigade is to be of solid use, there must be less ofthis flippancy. We must have keenness. I want you boys above all to bekeen. I... ? What is that noise?"

From the other side of the door proceeded a sound like water gurglingfrom a bottle, mingled with cries half suppressed, as if somebody werebeing prevented from uttering them by a hand laid over his mouth. Thesufferer appeared to have a high voice. 

There was a tap at the door and Mike walked in. He was not alone. Thosenear enough to see, saw that he was accompanied by Jellicoe's clockworkrat, which moved rapidly over the floor in the direction of theopposite wall. 

"May I fetch a book from my desk, sir?" asked Mike. 

"Very well--be quick, Jackson; we are busy. "

Being interrupted in one of his addresses to the Brigade irritated Mr. Downing. 

The muffled cries grew more distinct. 

"What ... Is ... That ... Noise?" shrilled Mr. Downing. 

"Noise, sir?" asked Mike, puzzled. 

"I think it's something outside the window, sir, " said Stone helpfully. 

"A bird, I think, sir, " said Robinson. 

"Don't be absurd!" snapped Mr. Downing. "It's outside the door. Wilson!"

"Yes, sir?" said a voice "off. "

"Are you making that whining noise?"

"Whining noise, sir? No, sir, I'm not making a whining noise. "

"What _sort_ of noise, sir?" inquired Mike, as many Wrykynians had askedbefore him. It was a question invented by Wrykyn for use in just such acase as this. 

"I do not propose, " said Mr. Downing acidly, "to imitate the noise; youcan all hear it perfectly plainly. It is a curious whining noise. "

"They are mowing the cricket field, sir, " said the invisible Wilson. "Perhaps that's it. "

"It may be one of the desks squeaking, sir, " put in Stone. "They dosometimes. "

"Or somebody's shoes, sir, " added Robinson. 

"Silence! Wilson?"

"Yes, sir?" bellowed the unseen one. 

"Don't shout at me from the corridor like that. Come in. "

"Yes, sir!"

As he spoke the muffled whining changed suddenly to a series of tenorshrieks, and the India-rubber form of Sammy bounded into the room likean excited kangaroo. 

Willing hands had by this time deflected the clockwork rat from the wallto which it had been steering, and pointed it up the alleyway betweenthe two rows of desks. Mr. Downing, rising from his place, was just intime to see Sammy with a last leap spring on his prey and beginworrying it. 

Chaos reigned. 

"A rat!" shouted Robinson. 

The twenty-three members of the Brigade who were not earnest instantlydealt with the situation, each in the manner that seemed proper to him. Some leaped onto forms, others flung books, all shouted. It was astirring, bustling scene. 

Sammy had by this time disposed of the clockwork rat, and was nowstanding, like Marius, among the ruins barking triumphantly. 

The banging on Mr. Downing's desk resembled thunder. It rose above allthe other noises till in time they gave up the competition anddied away. 

Mr. Downing shot out orders, threats, and penalties with the rapidity ofa Bren gun. 

"Stone, sit down! Donovan, if you do not sit down you will be severelypunished. Henderson, one hundred lines for gross disorder! Windham, thesame! Go to your seat, Vincent. What are you doing, Broughton-Knight? Iwill not have this disgraceful noise and disorder! The meeting is at anend; go quietly from the room, all of you. Jackson and Wilson, remain. _Quietly_, I said, Durand! Don't shuffle your feet in thatabominable way. "

Crash!

"Wolferstan, I distinctly saw you upset that blackboard with a movementof your hand--one hundred lines. Go quietly from the room, everybody. "

The meeting dispersed. 

"Jackson and Wilson, come here. What's the meaning of this disgracefulconduct? Put that dog out of the room, Jackson. "

Mike removed the yelling Sammy and shut the door on him. 

"Well, Wilson?"

"Please, sir, I was playing with a clockwork rat--"

"What business have you to be playing with clockwork rats?"

"Then I remembered, " said Mike, "that I had left my Horace in my desk, so I came in--"

"And by a fluke, sir, " said Wilson, as one who tells of strange things, "the rat happened to be pointing in the same direction, so he camein, too. "

"I met Sammy on the gravel outside and he followed me. "

"I tried to collar him, but when you told me to come in, sir, I had tolet him go, and he came in after the rat. "

It was plain to Mr. Downing that the burden of sin was shared equally byboth culprits. Wilson had supplied the rat, Mike the dog; but Mr. Downing liked Wilson and disliked Mike. Wilson was in the Fire Brigade, frivolous at times, it was true, but nevertheless a member. Also he keptwicket for the school. Mike was a member of the Archaeological Society, and had refused to play cricket. 

Mr. Downing allowed these facts to influence him in passing sentence. 

"One hundred lines, Wilson, " he said. "You may go. "

Wilson departed with the air of a man who has had a great deal of fun, and paid very little for it. 

Mr. Downing turned to Mike. "You will stay in on Saturday afternoon, Jackson; it will interfere with your Archaeological studies, I fear, butit may teach you that we have no room at Sedleigh for boys who spendtheir time loafing about and making themselves a nuisance. We are a keenschool; this is no place for boys who do nothing but waste their time. That will do, Jackson. "

And Mr. Downing walked out of the room. In affairs of this kind a masterhas a habit of getting the last word. 

10

ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT

They say misfortunes never come singly. As Mike sat brooding over hiswrongs in his study, after the Sammy incident, Jellicoe came into theroom, and, without preamble, asked for the loan of a pound. 

When one has been in the habit of confining one's lendings andborrowings to sixpences and shillings, a request for a pound comes assomething of a blow. 

"What on earth for?" asked Mike. 

"I say, do you mind if I don't tell you? I don't want to tell anybody. The fact is, I'm in a beastly hole. "

"Oh, sorry, " said Mike. "As a matter of fact, I do happen to have aquid. You can freeze on to it, if you like. But it's about all I havegot, so don't be shy about paying it back. "

Jellicoe was profuse in his thanks, and disappeared in a cloud ofgratitude. 

Mike felt that Fate was treating him badly. Being kept in on Saturdaymeant that he would be unable to turn out for Little Borlock againstClaythorpe, the return match. In the previous game he had scoredninety-eight, and there was a lob bowler in the Claythorpe ranks whom hewas particularly anxious to meet again. Having to yield a sovereign toJellicoe--why on earth did the man want all that?--meant that, unless acarefully worded letter to his brother Bob at Oxford had the desiredeffect, he would be practically penniless for weeks. 

In a gloomy frame of mind he sat down to write to Bob, who was playingregularly for the Varsity this season, and only the previous week hadmade a century against Sussex, so might be expected to be in asufficiently softened mood to advance the needful. (Which, it may bestated at once, he did, by return of post. )

Mike was struggling with the opening sentences of this letter--he wasnever a very ready writer--when Stone and Robinson burst into the room. 

Mike put down his pen, and got up. He was in warlike mood, and welcomedthe intrusion. If Stone and Robinson wanted battle, they should have it. 

But the motives of the expedition were obviously friendly. Stone beamed. Robinson was laughing. 

"You're a sportsman, " said Robinson. 

"What did he give you?" asked Stone. 

They sat down, Robinson on the table, Stone in Psmith's deck chair. Mike's heart warmed to them. The little disturbance in the dormitory wasa thing of the past, done with, forgotten, contemporary with JuliusCaesar. He felt that he, Stone and Robinson must learn to know andappreciate one another. 

There was, as a matter of fact, nothing much wrong with Stone andRobinson. They were just ordinary raggers of the type found at everypublic school, small and large. They were absolutely free from brain. They had a certain amount of muscle, and a vast store of animal spirits. They looked on school life purely as a vehicle for ragging. The Stonesand Robinsons are the swashbucklers of the school world. They go about, loud and boisterous, with a wholehearted and cheerful indifference toother people's feelings, treading on the toes of their neighbor andshoving him off the pavement, and always with an eye wide open for anyadventure. As to the kind of adventure, they are not particular so longas it promises excitement. Sometimes they go through their whole schoolcareer without accident. More often they run up against a snag in theshape of some serious-minded and muscular person, who objects to havinghis toes trodden on and being shoved off the pavement, and then theyusually sober down, to the mutual advantage of themselves and the restof the community. 

One's opinion of this type of youth varies according to one's point ofview. Small boys whom they had occasion to kick, either from pure highspirits or as a punishment for some slip from the narrow path which theideal small boy should tread, regarded Stone and Robinson as bullies ofthe genuine "Eric" and "St. Winifred's" brand. Masters were ratherafraid of them. Adair had a smouldering dislike for them. They wereuseful at cricket, but apt not to take Sedleigh as seriously as he couldhave wished. 

As for Mike, he now found them pleasant company, and began to get outthe tea things. 

"Those Fire Brigade meetings, " said Stone, "are a rag. You can do whatyou like, and you never get more than a hundred lines. "

"Don't you!" said Mike. "I got Saturday afternoon. "

"What!"

"Is Wilson in too?"

"No. He got a hundred lines. "

Stone and Robinson were quite concerned. 

"What a beastly swindle!"

"That's because you don't play cricket. Old Downing lets you do what youlike if you join the Fire Brigade and play cricket. "

"'We are, above all, a keen school, '" quoted Stone. "Don't you everplay?"

"I have played a bit, " said Mike. 

"Well, why don't you have a shot? We aren't such flyers here. If youknow one end of a bat from the other, you could get into some sort of ateam. Were you at school anywhere before you came here?"

"I was at Wrykyn. "

"Why on earth did you leave?" asked Stone. "Were you sacked?"

"No. My father took me away. "

"Wrykyn?" said Robinson. "Are you any relation of the Jacksonsthere--J. W. And the others?"

"Brother. "

"What!"

"Well, didn't you play at all there?"

"Yes, " said Mike, "I did. I was in the team three years, and I shouldhave been captain this year, if I'd stopped on. "

There was a profound and gratifying sensation. Stone gaped, and Robinsonnearly dropped his teacup. 

Stone broke the silence. 

"But I mean to say--look here? What I mean is, why aren't you playing?Why don't you play now?"

"I do. I play for a village near here. Place called Lower Borlock. A manwho played against Wrykyn for the Free Foresters captains them. He askedme if I'd like some games for them. "

"But why not for the school?"

"Why should I? It's much better fun for the village. You don't getordered about by Adair, for a start. "

"Adair sticks on side, " said Stone. 

"Enough for six, " agreed Robinson. 

"By Jove, " said Stone, "I've got an idea. My word, what a rag!"

"What's wrong now?" inquired Mike politely. 

"Why, look here. Tomorrow's Mid-Term Service Day. It's nowhere near themiddle of the term, but they always have it in the fourth week. There'schapel at half past nine till half past ten. Then the rest of the day'sa whole holiday. There are always house matches. We're playingDowning's. Why don't you play and let's smash them?"

"By Jove, yes, " said Robinson. "Why don't you? They're always stickingon side because they've won the house cup three years running. I say, doyou bat or bowl?"

"Bat. Why?"

Robinson rocked on the table. 

"Why, old Downing fancies himself as a bowler. You _must_ play, andknock the cover off him. "

"Masters don't play in house matches, surely?"

"This isn't a real house match. Only a friendly. Downing always turnsout on Mid-Term Service Day. I say, do play. "

"Think of the rag. "

"But the team's full, " said Mike. 

"The list isn't up yet. We'll nip across to Barnes's study, and make himalter it. "

They dashed out of the room. From down the passage Mike heard yells of"_Barnes_!" the closing of a door, and a murmur of excited conversation. Then footsteps returning down the passage. 

Barnes appeared, on his face the look of one who has seen visions. 

"I say, " he said, "is it true? Or is Stone rotting? About Wrykyn, Imean. "

"Yes, I was in the team. "

Barnes was an enthusiastic cricketer. He studied his _Wisden_, and hehad an immense respect for Wrykyn cricket. 

"Are you the M. Jackson, then, who had an average of fifty-one pointnaught three last year?"

"Yes. "

Barnes's manner became like that of a curate talking to a bishop. 

"I say, " he said, "then--er--will you play against Downing's tomorrow?"

"Rather, " said Mike. "Thanks awfully. Have some tea?"

11

THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S

It is the curious instinct which prompts most people to rub a thing inthat makes the lot of the average convert an unhappy one. Only the veryself-controlled can refrain from improving the occasion and scoring offthe convert. Most leap at the opportunity. 

It was so in Mike's case. Mike was not a genuine convert, but to Mr. Downing he had the outward aspect of one. When you have been impressingupon a noncricketing boy for nearly a month that (_a_) the school isabove all a keen school, (_b_) that all members of it should playcricket, and (_c_) that by not playing cricket he is ruining his chancesin this world and imperiling them in the next; and when, quiteunexpectedly, you come upon this boy dressed in cricket flannels, wearing cricket boots and carrying a cricket bag, it seems only naturalto assume that you have converted him, that the seeds of your eloquencehave fallen on fruitful soil and sprouted. 

Mr. Downing assumed it. 

He was walking to the field with Adair and another member of his teamwhen he came upon Mike. 

"What!" he cried. "Our Jackson clad in suit of mail and armed for thefray!"

This was Mr. Downing's No. 2 manner--the playful. 

"This is indeed Saul among the prophets. Why this sudden enthusiasm fora game which I understood that you despised? Are our opponentsso reduced?"

Psmith, who was with Mike, took charge of the affair with a languidgrace which had maddened hundreds in its time, and which never failed toruffle Mr. Downing. 

"We are, above all, sir, " he said, "a keen house. Drones are notwelcomed by us. We are essentially versatile. Jackson, the archaeologistof yesterday, becomes the cricketer of today. It is the right spirit, sir, " said Psmith earnestly. "I like to see it. "

"Indeed, Smith? You are not playing yourself, I notice. Your enthusiasmhas bounds. "

"In our house, sir, competition is fierce, and the Selection Committeeunfortunately passed me over. "

 * * * * *

There were a number of pitches dotted about over the field, for therewas always a touch of the London Park about it on Mid-Term Service Day. Adair, as captain of cricket, had naturally selected the best for hisown match. It was a good wicket, Mike saw. As a matter of fact thewickets at Sedleigh were nearly always good. Adair had infected thegroundsman with some of his own keenness, with the result that thatonce-leisurely official now found himself sometimes, with a kind of mildsurprise, working really hard. At the beginning of the previous seasonSedleigh had played a scratch team from a neighboring town on a wicketwhich, except for the creases, was absolutely undistinguishable from thesurrounding turf, and behind the pavilion after the match Adair hadspoken certain home truths to the groundsman. The latter's reformationhad dated from that moment. 

 * * * * *

Barnes, timidly jubilant, came up to Mike with the news that he had wonthe toss, and the request that Mike would go in first with him. 

In stories of the "Not Really a Duffer" type, where the nervous new boy, who has been found crying in the changing room over the photograph ofhis sister, contrives to get an innings in a game, nobody suspects thathe is really a prodigy till he hits the Bully's first ball out of theground for six. 

With Mike it was different. There was no pitying smile on Adair's faceas he started his run preparatory to sending down the first ball. Mike, on the cricket field, could not have looked anything but a cricketer ifhe had turned out in a tweed suit and hobnail boots. Cricketer waswritten all over him--in his walk, in the way he took guard, in hisstand at the wicket. Adair started to bowl with the feeling that thiswas somebody who had more than a little knowledge of how to deal withgood bowling and punish bad. 

Mike started cautiously. He was more than usually anxious to make runstoday, and he meant to take no risks till he could afford to do so. Hehad seen Adair bowl at the nets, and he knew that he was good. 

The first over was a maiden, six dangerous balls beautifully played. Thefieldsmen changed over. 

The general interest had now settled on the match between Outwood's andDowning's. The facts in Mike's case had gone around the field, and, asseveral of the other games had not yet begun, quite a large crowd hadcollected near the pavilion to watch. Mike's masterly treatment of theopening over had impressed the spectators, and there was a populardesire to see how he would deal with Mr. Downing's slows. It wasgenerally anticipated that he would do something special with them. 

Off the first ball of the master's over a leg-bye was run. 

Mike took guard. 

Mr. Downing was a bowler with a style of his own. He took two shortsteps, two long steps, gave a jump, took three more short steps, andended with a combination of step and jump, during which the ball emergedfrom behind his back and started on its slow career to the wicket. Thewhole business had some of the dignity of the old-fashioned minuet, subtly blended with the careless vigor of a cakewalk. The ball, whendelivered, was billed to break from leg, but the program was subject toalterations. 

If the spectators had expected Mike to begin any firework effects withthe first ball, they were disappointed. He played the over through witha grace worthy of his brother Joe. The last ball he turned to leg fora single. 

His treatment of Adair's next over was freer. He had got a sight of theball now. Halfway through the over a beautiful square cut forced apassage through the crowd by the pavilion, and dashed up against therails. He drove the sixth ball past cover for three. 

The crowd was now reluctantly dispersing to its own games, but itstopped as Mr. Downing started his minuet-cakewalk, in the hope that itmight see something more sensational. 

This time the hope was fulfilled. 

The ball was well up, slow, and off the wicket on the on-side. Perhapsif it had been allowed to pitch, it might have broken in and becomequite dangerous. Mike went out at it, and hit it a couple of feet fromthe ground. The ball dropped with a thud and a spurting of dust in theroad that ran along one side of the cricket field. 

It was returned on the installment system by helpers from other games, and the bowler began his maneuvers again. A half volley this time. Mikeslammed it back, and mid on, whose heart was obviously not in the thing, failed to stop it. 

"Get to them, Jenkins, " said Mr. Downing irritably, as the ball cameback from the boundary. "Get to them. "

"Sir, please, sir--"

"Don't talk in the field, Jenkins. "

Having had a full pitch hit for six and a half volley for four, therewas a strong probability that Mr. Downing would pitch his nextball short. 

The expected happened. The third ball was a slow long hop, and hit theroad at about the same spot where the first had landed. A howl ofuntuneful applause rose from the watchers in the pavilion, and Mike, with the feeling that this sort of bowling was too good to be true, waited in position for number four. 

There are moments when a sort of panic seizes a bowler. This happenednow with Mr. Downing. He suddenly abandoned science and ran amok. Hisrun lost its stateliness and increased its vigor. He charged up to thewicket as a wounded buffalo sometimes charges a gun. His whole idea nowwas to bowl fast. 

When a slow bowler starts to bowl fast, it is usually as well to bebatting, if you can manage it. 

By the time the over was finished, Mike's score had been increased bysixteen, and the total of his side, in addition, by three wides. 

And a shrill small voice, from the neighborhood of the pavilion, utteredwith painful distinctness the words, "Take him off!"

That was how the most sensational day's cricket began that Sedleigh hadknown. 

A description of the details of the morning's play would be monotonous. It is enough to say that they ran on much the same lines as the thirdand fourth overs of the match. Mr. Downing bowled one more over, offwhich Mike helped himself to sixteen runs, and then retired moodily tocover point, where, in Adair's fifth over, he missed Barnes--the firstoccasion since the game began on which that mild batsman had attemptedto score more than a single. Scared by this escape, Outwood's captainshrank back into his shell, sat on the splice like a limpet, and, offering no more chances, was not out at lunchtime with a score ofeleven. Mike had then made a hundred and three. 

 * * * * *

As Mike was taking off his pads in the pavilion, Adair came up. 

"Why did you say you didn't play cricket?" he asked abruptly. 

When one has been bowling the whole morning, and bowling well, withoutthe slightest success, one is inclined to be abrupt. 

Mike finished unfastening an obstinate strap. Then he looked up. 

"I didn't say anything of the kind. I said I wasn't going to play here. There's a difference. As a matter of fact, I was in the Wrykyn teambefore I came here. Three years. "

Adair was silent for a moment. 

"Will you play for us against the Old Sedleighans tomorrow?" he said atlength. 

Mike tossed his pads into his bag and got up. 

"No, thanks. "

There was a silence. 

"Above it, I suppose?"

"Not a bit. Not up to it. I shall want a lot of coaching at that end netof yours before I'm fit to play for Sedleigh. "

There was another pause. 

"Then you won't play?" asked Adair. 

"I'm not keeping you, am I?" said Mike, politely. 

It was remarkable what a number of members of Outwood's house appearedto cherish a personal grudge against Mr. Downing. It had been thatmaster's somewhat injudicious practice for many years to treat his ownhouse as a sort of Chosen People. Of all masters, the most unpopular ishe who by the silent tribunal of a school is convicted of favoritism. And the dislike deepens if it is a house which he favors and not merelyindividuals. On occasions when boys in his own house and boys from otherhouses were accomplices and partners in wrongdoing, Mr. Downingdistributed his thunderbolts unequally, and the school noticed it. Theresult was that not only he himself, but also--which was ratherunfair--his house, too, had acquired a good deal of unpopularity. 

The general consensus of opinion in Outwood's during the luncheoninterval was that having got Downing's up a tree, they would be foolsnot to make the most of the situation. 

Barnes's remark that he supposed, unless anything happened and wicketsbegan to fall a bit faster, they had better think of declaring somewhereabout half past three or four, was met with a storm of opposition. 

"Declare!" said Robinson. "Great Scot, what on earth are you talkingabout?"

"Declare!" Stone's voice was almost a wail of indignation. "I never sawsuch a chump. "

"They'll be rather sick if we don't, won't they?" suggested Barnes. 

"Sick! I should think they would, " said Stone. "That's just the gayidea. Can't you see that by a miracle we've got a chance of getting ajolly good bit of our own back against those Downing's ticks? What we'vegot to do is to jolly well keep them in the field all day if we can, andbe jolly glad it's so beastly hot. If they lose about a dozen poundseach through sweating about in the sun after Jackson's drives, perhapsthey'll stick on less side about things in general in future. Besides, Iwant an innings against that bilge of old Downing's, if I can get it. "

"So do I, " said Robinson. 

"If you declare, I swear I won't field. Nor will Robinson. "

"Rather not. "

"Well, I won't then, " said Barnes unhappily. "Only you know they'rerather sick already. "

"Don't you worry about that, " said Stone with a wide grin. "They'll be alot sicker before we've finished. "

And so it came about that that particular Mid-Term Service-Day matchmade history. Big scores had often been put up on Mid-Term Service Day. Games had frequently been one-sided. But it had never happened before inthe annals of the school that one side, going in first early in themorning, had neither completed its innings nor declared it closed whenstumps were drawn at 6. 30. In no previous Sedleigh match, after a fullday's play, had the pathetic words "Did not bat" been written againstthe whole of one of the contending teams. 

These are the things which mark epochs. 

Play was resumed at 2. 15. For a quarter of an hour Mike wascomparatively quiet. Adair, fortified by food and rest, was bowlingreally well, and his first half dozen overs had to be watched carefully. But the wicket was too good to give him a chance, and Mike, playinghimself in again, proceeded to get to business once more. Bowlers cameand went. Adair pounded away at one end with brief intervals between theattacks. Mr. Downing took a couple more overs, in one of which a horse, passing in the road, nearly had its useful life cut suddenly short. Change bowlers of various actions and paces, each weirder and morefutile than the last, tried their luck. But still the first-wicket standcontinued. 

The bowling of a house team is all head and no body. The first pairprobably have some idea of length and break. The first-change pair arepoor. And the rest, the small change, are simply the sort of things onesees in dreams after a heavy supper, or when one is out withoutone's gun. 

Time, mercifully, generally breaks up a big stand at cricket before thefield has suffered too much, and that is what happened now. At fouro'clock, when the score stood at two hundred and twenty for no wicket, Barnes, greatly daring, smote lustily at a rather wide half volley andwas caught at short slip for thirty-three. He retired blushfully to thepavilion, amidst applause, and Stone came out. 

As Mike had then made a hundred and eighty-seven, it was assumed by thefield, that directly he had topped his second century, the closure wouldbe applied and their ordeal finished. There was almost a sigh of reliefwhen frantic cheering from the crowd told that the feat had beenaccomplished. The fieldsmen clapped in quite an indulgent sort of way, as who should say, "Capital, capital. And now let's start _our_innings. " Some even began to edge toward the pavilion. 

But the next ball was bowled, and the next over, and the next afterthat, and still Barnes made no sign. (The conscience stricken captain ofOutwood's was, as a matter of fact, being practically held down byRobinson and other ruffians by force. )

A gray dismay settled on the field. 

The bowling had now become almost unbelievably bad. Lobs were beingtried, and Stone, nearly weeping with pure joy, was playing an inningsof the "How-to-brighten-cricket" type. He had an unorthodox style, butan excellent eye, and the road at this period of the game becameabsolutely unsafe for pedestrians and traffic. 

Mike's pace had become slower, as was only natural, but his score, too, was mounting steadily. 

"This is foolery, " snapped Mr. Downing, as the three hundred and fiftywent up on the board. "Barnes!" he called. 

There was no reply. A committee of three was at that moment engaged insitting on Barnes's head in the first eleven changing room, in order tocorrect a more than usually feverish attack of conscience. 

"Barnes!"

"Please, sir, " said Stone, some species of telepathy telling him whatwas detaining his captain. "I think Barnes must have left the field. Hehas probably gone over to the house to fetch something. "

"This is absurd. You must declare your innings closed. The game hasbecome a farce. "

"Declare! Sir, we can't unless Barnes does. He might be awfully annoyedif we did anything like that without consulting him. "

"Absurd. "

"He's very touchy, sir. "

"It is perfect foolery. "

"I think Jenkins is just going to bowl, sir. "

Mr. Downing walked moodily to his place. 

In a neat wooden frame in the senior day room at Outwood's, just abovethe mantlepiece, there was on view, a week later, a slip of paper. 

The writing on it was as follows:

 OUTWOOD'S _v_. DOWNING'S

 _Outwood's. First innings_. 

 J. P. Barnes, _c_. Hammond, _b_. Hassall 33 M. Jackson, not out 277 W. J. Stone, not out 124 Extras 37 Total (for one wicket) 471

 Downing's did not bat. 

12

THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOR OF JELLICOE

Outwood's rollicked considerably that night. Mike, if he had cared totake the part, could have been the Petted Hero. But a cordial invitationfrom the senior day room to be the guest of the evening at about thebiggest rag of the century had been refused on the plea of fatigue. Onedoes not make two hundred and seventy-seven runs on a hot day withoutfeeling the effects, even if one has scored mainly by the medium ofboundaries; and Mike, as he lay back in Psmith's deck chair, felt thatall he wanted was to go to bed and stay there for a week. His hands andarms burned as if they were red-hot, and his eyes were so tired that hecould not keep them open. 

Psmith, leaning against the mantlepiece, discoursed in a desultory wayon the day's happenings--the score off Mr. Downing, the undeniableannoyance of that battered bowler, and the probability of his ventinghis annoyance on Mike next day. 

"In theory, " said he, "the manly what-d'you-call-it of cricket and allthat sort of thing ought to make him fall on your neck tomorrow and weepover you as a foeman worthy of his steel. But I am prepared to bet areasonable sum that he will give no jujitsu exhibition of this kind. Infact, from what I have seen of our bright little friend, I should saythat, in a small way, he will do his best to make it distinctly hot foryou, here and there. "

"I don't care, " murmured Mike, shifting his aching limbs in the chair. 

"In an ordinary way, I suppose, a man can put up with having his bowlinghit a little. But your performance was cruelty to animals. Twenty-eightoff one over, not to mention three wides, would have made Job foam atthe mouth. You will probably get sacked. On the other hand, it's worthit. You have lit a candle this day which can never be blown out. Youhave shown the lads of the village how Comrade Downing's bowling oughtto be treated. I don't suppose he'll ever take another wicket. "

"He doesn't deserve to. "

Psmith smoothed his hair at the glass and turned round again. 

"The only blot on this day of mirth and goodwill is, " he said, "thesingular conduct of our friend Jellicoe. When all the place was ringingwith song and merriment, Comrade Jellicoe crept to my side, and, slipping his little hand in mine, touched me for three quid. "

This interested Mike, tired as he was. 

"What! Three quid!"

"Three crisp, crackling quid. He wanted four. "

"But the man must be living at the rate of I don't know what. It wasonly yesterday that he borrowed a quid from _me_!"

"He must be saving money fast. There appear to be the makings of afinancier about Comrade Jellicoe. Well, I hope, when he's collectedenough for his needs, he'll pay me back a bit. I'm pretty wellcleaned out. "

"I got some from my brother at Oxford. "

"Perhaps he's saving up to get married. We may be helping towardfurnishing the home. There was a Siamese prince fellow at my dame's atEton who had four wives when he arrived, and gathered in a fifth duringhis first summer holidays. It was done on the correspondence system. HisPrime Minister fixed it up at the other end, and sent him the glad newson a picture post card. I think an eye ought to be kept on ComradeJellicoe. "

 * * * * *

Mike tumbled into bed that night like a log, but he could not sleep. Heached all over. Psmith chatted for a time on human affairs in general, and then dropped gently off. Jellicoe, who appeared to be wrapped ingloom, contributed nothing to the conversation. 

After Psmith had gone to sleep, Mike lay for some time running over inhis mind, as the best substitute for sleep, the various points of hisinnings that day. He felt very hot and uncomfortable. 

Just as he was wondering whether it would not be a good idea to get upand have a cold bath, a voice spoke from the darkness at his side. 

"Are you asleep, Jackson?"

"Who's that?"

"Me--Jellicoe. I can't get to sleep. "

"Nor can I. I'm stiff all over. "

"I'll come over and sit on your bed. "

There was a creaking, and then a weight descended in the neighborhood ofMike's toes. 

Jellicoe was apparently not in conversational mood. He uttered no wordfor quite three minutes. At the end of which time he gave a sound midwaybetween a snort and a sigh. 

"I say, Jackson!" he said. 

"Yes?"

"Have you--oh, nothing. "

Silence again. 

"Jackson. "

"Hello?"

"I say, what would your people say if you got sacked?"

"All sorts of things. Especially my father. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. So would mine. "

"Everybody's would, I expect. "

"Yes. "

The bed creaked, as Jellicoe digested these great thoughts. Then hespoke again. 

"It would be a jolly beastly thing to get sacked. "

Mike was too tired to give his mind to the subject. He was not reallylistening. Jellicoe droned on in a depressed sort of way. 

"You'd get home in the middle of the afternoon, I suppose, and you'ddrive up to the house, and the servant would open the door, and you'd goin. They might all be out, and then you'd have to hang about, and wait;and presently you'd hear them come in, and you'd go out into thepassage, and they'd say 'Hello!'"

Jellicoe, in order to give verisimilitude, as it were, to an otherwisebald and unconvincing narrative, flung so much agitated surprise intothe last word that it woke Mike from a troubled doze into which hehad fallen. 

"Hello?" he said. "What's up?"

"Then you'd say, 'Hello!' And then they'd say, 'What are you doinghere?' And you'd say--"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"About what would happen. "

"Happen when?"

"When you got home. After being sacked, you know. "

"Who's been sacked?" Mike's mind was still under a cloud. 

"Nobody. But if you were, I meant. And then I suppose there'd be anawful row and general sickness, and all that. And then you'd be sentinto a bank, or to Australia, or something. "

Mike dozed off again. 

"My father would be frightfully sick. My mater would be sick. My sisterwould be jolly sick, too. Have you got any sisters, Jackson? Isay, Jackson!"

"Hello! What's the matter? Who's that?"

"Me--Jellicoe. "

"What's up?"

"I asked you if you'd got any sisters. "

"Any _what?_"

"Sisters. "

"Whose sisters?"

"Yours. I asked if you'd got any. "

"Any what?"

"Sisters. "

"What about them?"

The conversation was becoming too intricate for Jellicoe. He changed thesubject. 

"I say, Jackson!"

"Well?"

"I say, you don't know anyone who could lend me a pound, do you?"

"What!" cried Mike, sitting up in bed and staring through the darknessin the direction whence the numismatist's voice was proceeding. "Do _what?_"

"I say, look out. You'll wake Psmith. "

"Did you say you wanted someone to lend you a quid?"

"Yes, " said Jellicoe eagerly. "Do you know anyone?"

Mike's head throbbed. This thing was too much. The human brain could notbe expected to cope with it. Here was a youth who had borrowed a poundfrom one friend the day before, and three pounds from another friendthat very afternoon, already looking about him for further loans. Was ita hobby, or was he saving up to buy an airplane?

"What on earth do you want a pound for?"

"I don't want to tell anybody. But it's jolly serious. I shall getsacked if I don't get it. "

Mike pondered. 

Those who have followed Mike's career as set forth by the presenthistorian will have realized by this time that he was a good long wayfrom being perfect. As the Blue-Eyed Hero he would have been a rankfailure. Except on the cricket field, where he was a natural genius, hewas just ordinary. He resembled ninety percent of other members ofEnglish public schools. He had some virtues and a good many defects. Hewas as obstinate as a mule, though people whom he liked could do as theypleased with him. He was good-natured as a general thing, but onoccasion his temper could be of the worst, and had, in his childhood, been the subject of much adverse comment among his aunts. He was rigidlytruthful, where the issue concerned only himself. Where it was a case ofsaving a friend, he was prepared to act in a manner reminiscent of anAmerican expert witness. 

He had, in addition, one good quality without any defect to balance it. He was always ready to help people. And when he set himself to do this, he was never put off by discomfort or risk. He went at the thing with asingleness of purpose that asked no questions. 

Bob's postal order which had arrived that evening, was reposing in thebreast pocket of his coat. 

It was a wrench, but, if the situation was so serious with Jellicoe, ithad to be done. 

Two minutes later the night was being made hideous by Jellicoe's almosttearful protestations of gratitude, and the postal order had moved fromone side of the dormitory to the other. 

13

JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK LIST

Mike woke next morning with a confused memory of having listened to agreat deal of incoherent conversation from Jellicoe, and a painfullyvivid recollection of handing over the bulk of his worldly wealth tohim. The thought depressed him, though it seemed to please Jellicoe, forthe latter caroled in a gay undertone as he dressed, till Psmith, whohad a sensitive ear, asked as a favor that these farmyard imitationsmight cease until he was out of the room. 

There were other things to make Mike low-spirited that morning. To beginwith, he was in detention, which in itself is enough to spoil a day. Itwas a particularly fine day, which made the matter worse. In addition tothis, he had never felt stiffer in his life. It seemed to him that thecreaking of his joints as he walked must be audible to everyone within aradius of several yards. Finally, there was the interview with Mr. Downing to come. That would probably be unpleasant. As Psmith had said, Mr. Downing was the sort of master who would be likely to make trouble. The great match had not been an ordinary match. Mr. Downing was acurious man in many ways, but he did not make a fuss on ordinaryoccasions when his bowling proved expensive. Yesterday's performance, however, stood in a class by itself. It stood forth without disguise asa deliberate rag. One side does not keep another in the field the wholeday in a one-day match except as a grisly kind of practical joke. AndMr. Downing and his house realized this. The house's way of signifyingits comprehension of the fact was to be cold and distant as far as theseniors were concerned, and abusive and pugnacious as regards thejuniors. Young blood had been shed overnight, and more flowed during theeleven-o'-clock interval that morning to avenge the insult. 

Mr. Downing's methods of retaliation would have to be, of necessity, more elusive; but Mike did not doubt that in some way or other his formmaster would endeavor to get a bit of his own back. 

As events turned out, he was perfectly right. When a master has got hisknife into a boy, especially a master who allows himself to beinfluenced by his likes and dislikes, he is inclined to single him outin times of stress, and savage him as if he were the officialrepresentative of the evildoers. Just as, at sea, the skipper when hehas trouble with the crew, works it off on the boy. 

Mr. Downing was in a sarcastic mood when he met Mike. That is to say, hebegan in a sarcastic strain. But this sort of thing is difficult to keepup. By the time he had reached his peroration, the rapier had givenplace to the bludgeon. For sarcasm to be effective, the user of it mustbe met halfway. His hearer must appear to be conscious of the sarcasmand moved by it. Mike, when masters waxed sarcastic toward him, alwaysassumed an air of stolid stupidity, which was as a suit of mailagainst satire. 

So Mr. Downing came down from the heights with a run, and began toexpress himself with a simple strength which it did his form good tolisten to. Veterans who had been in the form for terms said afterwardthat there had been nothing to touch it, in their experience of theorator, since the glorious day when Dunster, that prince of raggers, whohad left at Christmas to go to a crammer's, had introduced three livelygrass snakes into the room during a Latin lesson. 

"You are surrounded, " concluded Mr. Downing, snapping his pencil in twoin his emotion, "by an impenetrable mass of conceit and vanity andselfishness. It does not occur to you to admit your capabilities as acricketer in an open, straightforward way and place them at the disposalof the school. No, that would not be dramatic enough for you. It wouldbe too commonplace altogether. Far too commonplace!" Mr. Downing laughedbitterly. "No, you must conceal your capabilities. You must act a lie. You must--who is that shuffling his feet? I will not have it, I _will_have silence--you must hang back in order to make a more effectiveentrance, like some wretched actor who--I will _not_ have thisshuffling. I have spoken of this before. Macpherson, are you shufflingyour feet?"

"Sir, no, sir. "

"Please, sir. "

"Well, Parsons?"

"I think it's the noise of the draft under the door, sir. "

Instant departure of Parsons for the outer regions. And, in theexcitement of this side issue, the speaker lost his inspiration, andabruptly concluded his remarks by putting Mike on to translate inCicero. Which Mike, who happened to have prepared the first half-page, did with much success. 

The Old Boys' match was timed to begin shortly after eleven o'clock. During the interval most of the school walked across the field to lookat the pitch. One or two of the Old Boys had already changed and werepracticing in front of the pavilion. 

It was through one of these batsmen that an accident occurred which hada good deal of influence on Mike's affairs. 

Mike had strolled out by himself. Halfway across the field Jellicoejoined him. Jellicoe was cheerful, and rather embarrassingly grateful. He was just in the middle of his harangue when the accident happened. 

To their left, as they crossed the field, a long youth, with the faintbeginnings of a moustache and a blazer that lit up the surroundinglandscape like a glowing beacon, was lashing out recklessly at afriend's bowling. Already he had gone within an ace of slaying a smallboy. As Mike and Jellicoe proceeded on their way, there was a shoutof "Heads!"

The almost universal habit of batsmen of shouting "Heads!" at whateverheight from the ground the ball may be, is not a little confusing. Theaverage person, on hearing the shout, puts his hands over his skull, crouches down and trusts to luck. This is an excellent plan if the ballis falling, but is not much protection against a skimming drive alongthe ground. 

When "Heads!" was called on the present occasion, Mike and Jellicoeinstantly assumed the crouching attitude. 

Jellicoe was the first to abandon it. He uttered a yell and sprang intothe air. After which he sat down and began to nurse his ankle. 

The bright-blazered youth walked up. 

"Awfully sorry, you know. Hurt?"

Jellicoe was pressing the injured spot tenderly with his fingertips, uttering sharp howls whenever, zeal outrunning discretion, he proddedhimself too energetically. 

"Silly ass, Dunster, " he groaned, "slamming about like that. "

"Awfully sorry. But I did yell. "

"It's swelling up rather, " said Mike. "You'd better get over to thehouse and have it looked at. Can you walk?"

Jellicoe tried, but sat down again with a loud "Ow!" At that moment thebell rang. 

"I shall have to be going in, " said Mike, "or I'd have helped you over. "

"I'll give you a hand, " said Dunster. 

He helped the sufferer to his feet and they staggered off together, Jellicoe hopping, Dunster advancing with a sort of polka step. Mikewatched them start and then turned to go in. 

14

MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION

There is only one thing to be said in favor of detention on a finesummer's afternoon, and that is that it is very pleasant to come out of. The sun never seems so bright or the turf so green as during the firstfive minutes after one has come out of the detention room. One feels asif one were entering a new and very delightful world. There is also atouch of the Rip van Winkle feeling. Everything seems to have gone onand left one behind. Mike, as he walked to the cricket field, felt verymuch behind the times. 

Arriving on the field he found the Old Boys batting. He stopped andwatched an over of Adair's. The fifth ball bowled a man. Mike made hisway toward the pavilion. 

Before he got there he heard his name called, and turning, found Psmithseated under a tree with the bright-blazered Dunster. 

"Return of the exile, " said Psmith. "A joyful occasion tinged withmelancholy. Have a cherry?--take one or two. These little acts ofunremembered kindness are what one needs after a couple of hours inextra pupil room. Restore your tissues, Comrade Jackson, and when youhave finished those, apply again. "

"Is your name Jackson?" inquired Dunster, "because Jellicoe wants to seeyou. "

"Alas, poor Jellicoe!" said Psmith. "He is now prone on his bed in thedormitory--there a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Jellicoe, the darling of thecrew, faithful below he did his duty, but Comrade Dunster has broachedhim to. I have just been hearing the melancholy details. "

"Old Smith and I, " said Dunster, "were at prep school together. I'd noidea I should find him here. "

"It was a wonderfully stirring sight when we met, " said Psmith; "notunlike the meeting of Ulysses and the hound Argos, of whom you havedoubtless read in the course of your dabblings in the classics. I wasUlysses; Dunster gave a lifelike representation of the faithful dawg. "

"You still jaw as much as ever, I notice, " said the animal delineator, fondling the beginnings of his moustache. 

"More, " sighed Psmith, "more. Is anything irritating you?" he added, eyeing the other's maneuvers with interest. 

"You needn't be a funny ass, man, " said Dunster, pained; "heaps ofpeople tell me I ought to have it waxed. "

"What it really wants is top-dressing with guano. Hello! another manout. Adair's bowling better today than he did yesterday. "

"I heard about yesterday, " said Dunster. "It must have been a rag!Couldn't we work off some other rag on somebody before I go? I shall bestopping here till Monday in the village. Well hit, sir--Adair's bowlingis perfectly simple if you go out to it. "

"Comrade Dunster went out to it first ball, " said Psmith to Mike. 

"Oh! chuck it, man; the sun was in my eyes. I hear Adair's got a matchon with the M. C. C. At last. "

"Has he?" said Psmith; "I hadn't heard. Archaeology claims so much of mytime that I have little leisure for listening to cricket chitchat. "

"What was it Jellicoe wanted?" asked Mike; "was it anything important?"

"He seemed to think so--he kept telling me to tell you to go and seehim. "

"I fear Comrade Jellicoe is a bit of a weak-minded blitherer--"

"Did you ever hear of a rag we worked off on Jellicoe once?" askedDunster. "The man has absolutely no sense of humor--can't see when he'sbeing rotted. Well, it was like this--hello! We're all out--I shall haveto be going out to field again, I suppose, dash it! I'll tell you when Isee you again. "

"I shall count the minutes, " said Psmith. 

Mike stretched himself; the sun was very soothing after his two hours inthe detention room; he felt disinclined for exertion. 

"I don't suppose it's anything special about Jellicoe, do you?" he said. "I mean, it'll keep till teatime; it's no catch having to sweat acrossto the house now. "

"Don't dream of moving, " said Psmith. "I have several rather profoundobservations on life to make and I can't make them without an audience. Soliloquy is a knack. Hamlet had got it, but probably only after yearsof patient practice. Personally, I need someone to listen when I talk. Ilike to feel that I am doing good. You stay where you are--don'tinterrupt too much. "

Mike tilted his hat over his eyes and abandoned Jellicoe. 

It was not until the lock-up bell rang that he remembered him. He wentover to the house and made his way to the dormitory, where he found theinjured one in a parlous state, not so much physical as mental. Thedoctor had seen his ankle and reported that it would be on the activelist in a couple of days. It was Jellicoe's mind that neededattention now. 

Mike found him in a condition bordering on collapse. "I say, you mighthave come before!" said Jellicoe. 

"What's up? I didn't know there was such a hurry about it--what did youwant?"

"It's no good now, " said Jellicoe gloomily; "it's too late, I shall getsacked. "

"What on earth are you talking about? What's the row?"

"It's about that money. "

"What about it?"

"I had to pay it to a man today, or he said he'd write to the Head--thenof course I should get sacked. I was going to take the money to him thisafternoon, only I got crocked, so I couldn't move. I wanted to get holdof you to ask you to take it for me--it's too late now!"

Mike's face fell. "Oh, hang it!" he said, "I'm awfully sorry. I'd noidea it was anything like that--what a fool I was! Dunster did say hethought it was something important, only like an ass I thought it woulddo if I came over at lockup. "

"It doesn't matter, " said Jellicoe miserably; "it can't be helped. "

"Yes, it can, " said Mike. "I know what I'll do--it's all right. I'll getout of the house after lights-out. "

Jellicoe sat up. "You can't! You'd get sacked if you were caught. "

"Who would catch me? There was a chap at Wrykyn I knew who used to breakout every night nearly and go and pot at cats with an air pistol; it'sas easy as anything. "

The toad-under-the-harrow expression began to fade from Jellicoe's face. "I say, do you think you could, really?"

"Of course I can! It'll be rather a rag. "

"I say, it's frightfully decent of you. "

"What absolute rot!"

"But look here, are you certain--"

"I shall be all right. Where do you want me to go?"

"It's a place about a mile or two from here, called Lower Borlock. "

"Lower Borlock?"

"Yes, do you know it?"

"Rather! I've been playing cricket for them all the term. "

"I say, have you? Do you know a man called Barley?"

"Barley? Rather--he runs the White Boar. "

"He's the chap I owe the money to. "

"Old Barley!"

Mike knew the landlord of the White Boar well; he was the wag of thevillage team. Every village team, for some mysterious reason, has itscomic man. In the Lower Borlock eleven Mr. Barley filled the post. Hewas a large, stout man, with a red and cheerful face, who looked exactlylike the jovial innkeeper of melodrama. He was the last man Mike wouldhave expected to do the "money by Monday-week or I write to theheadmaster" business. 

But he reflected that he had only seen him in his leisure moments, whenhe might naturally be expected to unbend and be full of the milk ofhuman kindness. Probably in business hours he was quite different. Afterall, pleasure is one thing and business another. 

Besides, five pounds is a large sum of money, and if Jellicoe owed it, there was nothing strange in Mr. Barley's doing everything he could torecover it. 

He wondered a little what Jellicoe could have been doing to run up abill as big as that, but it did not occur to him to ask, which wasunfortunate, as it might have saved him a good deal of inconvenience. Itseemed to him that it was none of his business to inquire intoJellicoe's private affairs. He took the envelope containing the moneywithout question. 

"I shall bike there, I think, " he said, "if I can get into the shed. "

The school's bicycles were stored in a shed by the pavilion. 

"You can manage that, " said Jellicoe; "it's locked up at night, but Ihad a key made to fit it last summer, because I used to get out in theearly morning sometimes before it was opened. "

"Got it on you?"

"Smith's got it. "

"I'll get it from him. "

"I say!"

"Well?"

"Don't tell Smith why you want it, will you? I don't want anybody toknow--if a thing once starts getting about it's all over the place inno time. "

"All right, I won't tell him. "

"I say, thanks most awfully! I don't know what I should have done, I--"

"Oh, chuck it!" said Mike. 

15

... AND FULFILLS IT

Mike started on his ride to Lower Borlock with mixed feelings. It ispleasant to be out on a fine night in summer, but the pleasure is to acertain extent modified when one feels that to be detected will meanexpulsion. 

Mike did not want to be expelled, for many reasons. Now that he hadgrown used to the place he was enjoying himself at Sedleigh to a certainextent. He still harbored a feeling of resentment against the school ingeneral and Adair in particular, but it was pleasant in Outwood's nowthat he had got to know some of the members of the house, and he likedplaying cricket for Lower Borlock; also, he was fairly certain that hisfather would not let him go to Cambridge if he were expelled fromSedleigh. Mr. Jackson was easygoing with his family, but occasionallyhis foot came down like a steam hammer, as witness the Wrykynschool-report affair. 

So Mike pedaled along rapidly, being wishful to get the job done withoutdelay. 

Psmith had yielded up the key, but his inquiries as to why it was neededhad been embarrassing. Mike's statement that he wanted to get up earlyand have a ride had been received by Psmith, with whom early rising wasnot a hobby, with honest amazement and a flood of advice and warning onthe subject. 

"One of the Georges, " said Psmith, "I forget which, once said that acertain number of hours' sleep a day--I cannot recall for the moment howmany--made a man something, which for the time being has slipped mymemory. However, there you are. I've given you the main idea of thething; and a German doctor says that early rising causes insanity. Still, if you're bent on it.... " After which he had handed over the key. 

Mike wished he could have taken Psmith into his confidence. Probably hewould have volunteered to come, too; Mike would have been glad of acompanion. 

It did not take him long to reach Lower Borlock. The White Boar stood atthe far end of the village, by the cricket field. He rode past thechurch--standing out black and mysterious against the light sky--and therows of silent cottages, until he came to the inn. 

The place was shut, of course, and all the lights were out--it wassometime past eleven. 

The advantage an inn has over a private house, from the point of view ofthe person who wants to get into it when it has been locked up, is thata nocturnal visit is not so unexpected in the case of the former. Preparations have been made to meet such an emergency. Where with aprivate house you would probably have to wander around heaving rocks andend by climbing up a waterspout, when you want to get into an inn yousimply ring the night bell, which, communicating with the boots' room, has that hard-worked menial up and doing in no time. 

After Mike had waited for a few minutes there was a rattling of chainsand a shooting of bolts and the door opened. 

"Yes, sir?" said the boots, appearing in his shirt sleeves. "Why, 'ello!Mr. Jackson, sir!"

Mike was well known to all dwellers in Lower Borlock, his scores beingthe chief topic of conversation when the day's labors were over. 

"I want to see Mr. Barley, Jack. "

"He's bin' in bed this half hour back, Mr. Jackson. "

"I must see him. Can you get him down?"

The boots looked doubtful. "Roust the guv'nor outer bed?" he said. 

Mike quite admitted the gravity of the task. The landlord of the WhiteBoar was one of those men who need a beauty sleep. 

"I wish you would--it's a thing that can't wait. I've got some money togive to him. "

"Oh, if it's _that_ ... " said the boots. 

Five minutes later mine host appeared in person, looking more thanusually portly in a check dressing gown and red bedroom slippers. 

"You can pop off, Jack. "

Exit boots to his slumbers once more. 

"Well, Mr. Jackson, what's it all about?"

"Jellicoe asked me to come and bring you the money. "

"The money? What money?"

"What he owes you; the five pounds, of course. "

"The five--" Mr. Barley stared openmouthed at Mike for a moment; then hebroke into a roar of laughter which shook the sporting prints on thewall and drew barks from dogs in some distant part of the house. Hestaggered about laughing and coughing till Mike began to expect a fit ofsome kind. Then he collapsed into a chair, which creaked under him, andwiped his eyes. 

"Oh dear!" he said, "Oh dear! The five pounds!"

Mike was not always abreast of the rustic idea of humor, and now he feltparticularly fogged. For the life of him he could not see what there wasto amuse anyone so much in the fact that a person who owed five poundswas ready to pay it back. It was an occasion for rejoicing, perhaps, butrather for a solemn, thankful, eyes-raised-to-heaven kind of rejoicing. 

"What's up?" he asked. 

"Five pounds!"

"You might tell us the joke. "

Mr. Barley opened the letter, read it, and had another attack; when thiswas finished he handed the letter to Mike, who was waiting patiently by, hoping for light, and requested him to read it. 

"Dear, dear!" chuckled Mr. Barley, "five pounds! They may teach youyoung gentlemen to talk Latin and Greek and what-not at your school, butit 'ud do a lot more good if they'd teach you how many beans make five;it 'ud do a lot more good if they'd teach you to come in when it rained;it 'ud do ... "

Mike was reading the letter. 

"Dear Mr. Barley, " it ran. 

"I send the £5, which I could not get before. I hope it is in time, because I don't want you to write to the headmaster. I am sorry Jane andJohn ate your wife's hat and the chicken and broke the vase. "

There was some more to the same effect; it was signed "T. G. Jellicoe. "

"What on earth's it all about?" said Mike, finishing this curiousdocument. 

Mr. Barley slapped his leg. "Why, Mr. Jellicoe keeps two dogs here; Ikeep 'em for him till the young gentlemen go home for their holidays. Aberdeen terriers, they are, and as sharp as mustard. Mischief! Ibelieve you, but, love us! they don't do no harm! Bite up an old shoesometimes and such sort of things. The other day, last Wednesday itwere, about 'ar parse five, Jane--she's the worst of the two, always upto it, she is--she got hold of my old hat and had it in bits before youcould say knife. John upset a china vase in one of the bedrooms chasinga mouse, and they got on the coffee-room table and ate half a coldchicken what had been left there. So I says to myself, 'I'll have a gamewith Mr. Jellicoe over this, ' and I sits down and writes off saying thelittle dogs have eaten a valuable hat and a chicken and what not, andthe damage'll be five pounds, and will he kindly remit same by Saturdaynight at the latest or I write to his headmaster. Love us!" Mr. Barleyslapped his thigh, "he took it all in, every word--and here's the fivepounds in cash in this envelope here! I haven't had such a laugh sincewe got old Tom Raxley out of bed at twelve of a winter's night bytelling him his house was afire. "

It is not always easy to appreciate a joke of the practical order if onehas been made even merely part victim of it. Mike, as he reflected thathe had been dragged out of his house in the middle of the night, incontravention of all school rules and discipline, simply in order tosatisfy Mr. Barley's sense of humor, was more inclined to be abusivethan mirthful. Running risks is all very well when they are necessary, or if one chooses to run them for one's own amusement, but to be placedin a dangerous position, a position imperiling one's chance of going tothe 'Varsity, is another matter altogether. 

But it is impossible to abuse the Barley type of man. Barley's enjoymentof the whole thing was so honest and childlike. Probably it had givenhim the happiest quarter of an hour he had known for years, since, infact, the affair of old Tom Raxley. It would have been cruel to dampthe man. 

So Mike laughed perfunctorily, took back the envelope with the fivepounds, accepted a ginger beer and a plateful of biscuits, and rode offon his return journey. 

 * * * * *

Mention has been made above of the difference which exists betweengetting into an inn after lockup and into a private house. Mike was tofind this out for himself. 

His first act on arriving at Sedleigh was to replace his bicycle in theshed. This he accomplished with success. It was pitch-dark in the shed, and as he wheeled his machine in, his foot touched something on thefloor. Without waiting to discover what this might be, he leaned hisbicycle against the wall, went out, and locked the door, after which heran across to Outwood's. 

Fortune had favored his undertaking by decreeing that a stout drainpipeshould pass up the wall within a few inches of his and Psmith's study. On the first day of term, it may be remembered he had wrenched away thewooden bar which bisected the window frame, thus rendering exit andentrance almost as simple as they had been for Wyatt during Mike's firstterm at Wrykyn. 

He proceeded to scale this water pipe. 

He had got about halfway up when a voice from somewhere below cried, "Who's that?"

16

PURSUIT

These things are Life's Little Difficulties. One can never tellprecisely how one will act in a sudden emergency. The right thing forMike to have done at this crisis was to have ignored the voice, carriedon up the water pipe, and through the study window, and gone to bed. Itwas extremely unlikely that anybody could have recognized him at nightagainst the dark background of the house. The position then would havebeen that somebody in Mr. Outwood's house had been seen breaking inafter lights-out; but it would have been very difficult for theauthorities to have narrowed the search down any further than that. There were thirty-four boys in Outwood's, of whom about fourteen weremuch the same size and build as Mike. 

The suddenness, however, of the call caused Mike to lose his head. Hemade the strategic error of sliding rapidly down the pipe, and running. 

There were two gates to Mr. Outwood's front garden. The drive ran in asemicircle, of which the house was the center. It was from theright-hand gate, nearest to Mr. Downing's house, that the voice hadcome, and, as Mike came to the ground, he saw a stout figure gallopingtoward him from that direction. He bolted like a rabbit for the othergate. As he did so, his pursuer again gave tongue. 

"Oo-oo-oo yer!" was the exact remark. 

Whereby Mike recognized him as the school sergeant. "Oo-oo-oo yer!" wasthat militant gentleman's habitual way of beginning a conversation. 

With this knowledge, Mike felt easier in his mind. Sergeant Collard wasa man of many fine qualities (notably a talent for what he was wont tocall "spott'n, " a mysterious gift which he exercised on the riflerange), but he could not run. There had been a time in his hot youthwhen he had sprinted like an untamed mustang in pursuit of volatilePathans in Indian hill wars, but Time, increasing his girth, had takenfrom him the taste for such exercise. When he moved now it was at astately walk. The fact that he ran tonight showed how the excitement ofthe chase had entered into his blood. 

"Oo-oo-oo yer!" he shouted again, as Mike, passing through the gate, turned into the road that led to the school. Mike's attentive ear notedthat the bright speech was a shade more puffily delivered this time. Hebegan to feel that this was not such bad fun after all. He would haveliked to be in bed, but, if that was out of the question, this wascertainly the next-best thing. 

He ran on, taking things easily, with the sergeant panting in his wake, till he reached the entrance to the school grounds. He dashed in andtook cover behind a tree. 

Presently the sergeant turned the corner, going badly and evidentlycured of a good deal of the fever of the chase. Mike heard him toil onfor a few yards and then stop. A sound of panting was borne to him. 

Then the sound of footsteps returning, this time at a walk. They passedthe gate and went on down the road. 

The pursuer had given the thing up. 

Mike waited for several minutes behind his tree. His program now wassimple. He would give Sergeant Collard about half an hour, in case thelatter took it into his head to "guard home" by waiting at the gate. Then he would trot softly back, shoot up the water pipe once more, andso to bed. It had just struck a quarter to something--twelve, hesupposed--on the school clock. He would wait till a quarter past. 

Meanwhile, there was nothing to be gained from lurking behind a tree. Heleft his cover, and started to stroll in the direction of the pavilion. Having arrived there, he sat on the steps, looking out onto thecricket field. 

His thoughts were miles away, at Wrykyn, when he was recalled toSedleigh by the sound of somebody running. Focusing his gaze, he saw adim figure moving rapidly across the cricket field straight for him. 

His first impression, that he had been seen and followed, disappeared asthe runner, instead of making for the pavilion, turned aside, andstopped at the door of the bicycle shed. Like Mike, he was evidentlypossessed of a key, for Mike heard it grate in the lock. At this pointhe left the pavilion and hailed his fellow rambler by night in acautious undertone. 

The other appeared startled. 

"Who the dickens is that?" he asked. "Is that you, Jackson?"

Mike recognized Adair's voice. The last person he would have expected tomeet at midnight obviously on the point of going for a bicycle ride. 

"What are you doing out here. Jackson?"

"What are you, if it comes to that?"

Adair was adjusting his front light. 

"I'm going for the doctor. One of the chaps in our house is bad. "

"Oh!"

"What are you doing out here?"

"Just been for a stroll. "

"Hadn't you better be getting back?"

"Plenty of time. "

"I suppose you think you're doing something tremendously brave anddashing?"

"Hadn't you better be going to the doctor?"

"If you want to know what I think--"

"I don't. So long. "

Mike turned away, whistling between his teeth. After a moment's pause, Adair rode off. Mike saw his light pass across the field and through thegate. The school clock struck the quarter. 

It seemed to Mike that Sergeant Collard, even if he had started to waitfor him at the house, would not keep up the vigil for more than half anhour. He would be safe now in trying for home again. 

He walked in that direction. 

Now it happened that Mr. Downing, aroused from his first sleep by thenews, conveyed to him by Adair, that MacPhee, one of the junior membersof Adair's dormitory, was groaning and exhibiting other symptoms ofacute illness, was disturbed in his mind. Most housemasters feel uneasyin the event of illness in their houses, and Mr. Downing was apt to getjumpy beyond the ordinary on such occasions. All that was wrong withMacPhee, as a matter of fact, was a very fair stomachache, the directand legitimate result of eating six buns, half a coconut, threedoughnuts, two ices, an apple, and a pound of cherries, and washing thelot down with tea. But Mr. Downing saw in his attack the beginnings ofsome deadly scourge which would sweep through and decimate the house. Hehad dispatched Adair for the doctor, and, after spending a few minutesprowling restlessly about his room, was now standing at his front gate, waiting for Adair's return. 

It came about, therefore, that Mike, sprinting lightly in the directionof home and safety, had his already shaken nerves further maltreated bybeing hailed, at a range of about two yards, with a cry of "Is that you, Adair?" The next moment Mr. Downing emerged from his gate. 

Mike stood not upon the order of his going. He was off like an arrow--aflying figure of Guilt. Mr. Downing, after the first surprise, seemed tograsp the situation. Ejaculating at intervals the words, "Who is that?Stop! Who is that? Stop!" he dashed after the much-enduring Wrykynian atan extremely creditable rate of speed. Mr. Downing was by way of being asprinter. He had won handicap events at College sports at Oxford, and, if Mike had not got such a good start, the race might have been over inthe first fifty yards. As it was, that victim of Fate, going well, keptahead. At the entrance to the school grounds he led by a dozen yards. The procession passed into the field, Mike heading as before forthe pavilion. 

As they raced across the soft turf, an idea occurred to Mike, which hewas accustomed in after years to attribute to genius, the one flash ofit which had ever illumined his life. 

It was this. 

One of Mr. Downing's first acts, on starting the Fire Brigade atSedleigh, had been to institute an alarm bell. It had been rubbed intothe school officially--in speeches from the dais--by the headmaster, andunofficially--in earnest private conversations--by Mr. Downing, that atthe sound of this bell, at whatever hour of day or night, every memberof the school must leave his house in the quickest possible way, andmake for the open. The bell might mean that the school was on fire, orit might mean that one of the houses was on fire. In any case, theschool had its orders--to get out into the open at once. 

Nor must it be supposed that the school was without practice at thisfeat. Every now and then a notice would be found posted up on the boardto the effect that there would be fire drill during the dinner hour thatday. Sometimes the performance was bright and interesting, as on theoccasion when Mr. Downing, marshaling the brigade at his front gate, hadsaid, "My house is supposed to be on fire. Now let's do a record!" whichthe Brigade, headed by Stone and Robinson, obligingly did. They fastenedthe hose to the hydrant, smashed a window on the ground floor (Mr. Downing having retired for a moment to talk with the headmaster), andpoured a stream of water into the room. When Mr. Downing was at libertyto turn his attention to the matter, he found that the room selected washis private study, most of the light furniture of which was floating ina miniature lake. That episode had rather discouraged his passion forrealism, and fire drill since then had taken the form, for the mostpart, of "practicing escaping. " This was done by means of canvas chutes, kept in the dormitories. At the sound of the bell the prefect of thedormitory would heave one end of the chute out of the window, the otherend being fastened to the sill. He would then go down it himself, usinghis elbows as a brake. Then the second man would follow his example, andthese two, standing below, would hold the end of the chute so that therest of the dormitory could fly rapidly down it without injury, exceptto their digestions. 

After the first novelty of the thing had worn off, the school had takena rooted dislike to fire drill. It was a matter for self-congratulationamong them that Mr. Downing had never been able to induce the headmasterto allow the alarm bell to be sounded for fire drill at night. Theheadmaster, a man who had his views on the amount of sleep necessary forthe growing boy, had drawn the line at night operations. "Sufficientunto the day" had been the gist of his reply. If the alarm bell were toring at night when there was no fire, the school might mistake a genuinealarm of fire for a bogus one, and refuse to hurry themselves. 

So Mr. Downing had had to be content with day drill. 

The alarm bell hung in the archway, leading into the school grounds. Theend of the rope, when not in use, was fastened to a hook halfway upthe wall. 

Mike, as he raced over the cricket field, made up his mind in a flashthat his only chance of getting out of this tangle was to shake hispursuer off for a space of time long enough to enable him to get to therope and tug it. Then the school would come out. He would mix with them, and in the subsequent confusion get back to bed unnoticed. 

The task was easier than it would have seemed at the beginning of thechase. Mr. Downing, owing to the two facts that he was not in thestrictest training, and that it is only a Bannister who can run for anylength of time at top speed shouting "Who is that? Stop! Who is that?Stop!" was beginning to feel distressed. There were bellows to mend inthe Downing camp. Mike perceived this, and forced the pace. He roundedthe pavilion ten yards to the good. Then, heading for the gate, he putall he knew into one last sprint. Mr. Downing was not equal to theeffort. He worked gamely for a few strides, then fell behind. When Mikereached the gate, a good forty yards separated them. 

As far as Mike could judge--he was not in a condition to make nicecalculations--he had about four seconds in which to get busy with thatbell rope. 

Probably nobody has ever crammed more energetic work into four secondsthan he did then. 

The night was as still as only an English summer night can be, and thefirst clang of the clapper sounded like a million iron girders fallingfrom a height onto a sheet of tin. He tugged away furiously, with an eyeon the now rapidly advancing and loudly shouting figure of thehousemaster. 

And from the darkened house beyond there came a gradually swelling hum, as if a vast hive of bees had been disturbed. 

The school was awake. 

17

THE DECORATION OF SAMMY

Psmith leaned against the mantelpiece in the senior day room atOutwood's--since Mike's innings against Downing's the Lost Lambs hadbeen received as brothers by the center of disorder, so that evenSpiller was compelled to look on the hatchet as buried--and gave hisviews on the events of the preceding night, or, rather, of that morning, for it was nearer one than twelve when peace had once more fallen onthe school. 

"Nothing that happens in this loony bin, " said Psmith, "has power tosurprise me now. There was a time when I might have thought it a littleunusual to have to leave the house through a canvas chute at one o'clockin the morning, but I suppose it's quite the regular thing here. Oldschool tradition, etc. Men leave the school, and find that they've gotso accustomed to jumping out of windows that they look on it as a sortof affectation to go out by the door. I suppose none of you merchantscan give me any idea when the next knockabout entertainment of this kindis likely to take place?"

"I wonder who rang that bell!" said Stone. "Jolly sporting idea. "

"I believe it was Downing himself. If it was, I hope he's satisfied. "

Jellicoe, who was appearing in society supported by a stick, lookedmeaningly at Mike, and giggled, receiving in answer a stony stare. Mikehad informed Jellicoe of the details of his interview with Mr. Barley atthe White Boar, and Jellicoe, after a momentary splutter of wrathagainst the practical joker, was now in a particular lighthearted mood. He hobbled about, giggling at nothing and at peace with all the world. 

"It was a stirring scene, " said Psmith. "The agility with which ComradeJellicoe boosted himself down the chute was a triumph of mind overmatter. He seemed to forget his ankle. It was the nearest thing to aBoneless Acrobatic Wonder that I have ever seen. "

"I was in a beastly funk, I can tell you. "

Stone gurgled. 

"So was I, " he said, "for a bit. Then, when I saw that it was all a rag, I began to look about for ways of doing the thing really well. I emptiedabout six jugs of water on a gang of kids under my window. "

"I rushed into Downing's, and ragged some of the beds, " said Robinson. 

"It was an invigorating time, " said Psmith. "A sort of pageant. I wasparticularly struck with the way some of the bright lads caught hold ofthe idea. There was no skimping. Some of the kids, to my certainknowledge, went down the chute a dozen times. There's nothing like doinga thing thoroughly. I saw them come down, rush upstairs, and be savedagain, time after time. The thing became chronic with them. I should sayComrade Downing ought to be satisfied with the high state of efficiencyto which he has brought us. At any rate I hope--"

There was a sound of hurried footsteps outside the door, and Sharpe, amember of the senior day room, burst excitedly in. He seemed amused. 

"I say, have you chaps seen Sammy?"

"Seen who?" said Stone. "Sammy? Why?"

"You'll know in a second. He's just outside. Here, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy!Sam! Sam!"

A bark and a patter of feet outside. 

"Come on, Sammy. Good dog. "

There was a moment's silence. Then a great yell of laughter burst forth. Even Psmith's massive calm was shattered. As for Jellicoe, he sobbedin a corner. 

Sammy's beautiful white coat was almost entirely concealed by a thickcovering of bright-red paint. His head, with the exception of the ears, was untouched, and his serious, friendly eyes seemed to emphasise theweirdness of his appearance. He stood in the doorway, barking andwagging his tail, plainly puzzled at his reception. He was a populardog, and was always well received when he visited any of the houses, buthe had never before met with enthusiasm like this. 

"Good old Sammy!"

"What on earth's been happening to him?"

"Who did it?"

Sharpe, the introducer, had no views on the matter. 

"I found him outside Downing's, with a crowd round him. Everybody seemsto have seen him. I wonder who on earth has gone and mucked him uplike that!"

Mike was the first to show any sympathy for the maltreated animal. 

"Poor old Sammy, " he said, kneeling on the floor beside the victim, andscratching him under the ear. "What a beastly shame! It'll take hours towash all that off him, and he'll hate it. "

"It seems to me, " said Psmith, regarding Sammy dispassionately throughhis eyeglass, "that it's not a case for mere washing. They'll eitherhave to skin him bodily, or leave the thing to time. Time, the GreatHealer. In a year or two he'll fade to a delicate pink. I don't see whyyou shouldn't have a pink bull terrier. It would lend a touch ofdistinction to the place. Crowds would come in excursion trains to seehim. By charging a small fee you might make him self-supporting. I thinkI'll suggest it to Comrade Downing. "

"There'll be a row about this, " said Stone. 

"Rows are rather sport when you're not mixed up in them, " said Robinson, philosophically. "There'll be another if we don't start off for chapelsoon. It's a quarter to. "

There was a general move. Mike was the last to leave the room. As he wasgoing, Jellicoe stopped him. Jellicoe was staying in that Sunday, owingto his ankle. 

"I say, " said Jellicoe, "I just wanted to thank you again about that--"

"Oh, that's all right. "

"No, but it really was awfully decent of you. You might have got into afrightful row. Were you nearly caught?"

"Jolly nearly. "

"It _was_ you who rang the bell, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was. But for goodness' sake don't go gassing about it, orsomebody will get to hear who oughtn't to, and I shall be sacked. "

"All right. But, I say, you _are_ a chap!"

"What's the matter now?"

"I mean about Sammy, you know. It's a jolly good score off old Downing. He'll be frightfully sick. "

"Sammy!" cried Mike. "My good man, you don't think I did that, do you?What absolute rot! I never touched the poor brute. "

"Oh, all right, " said Jellicoe. "But I wasn't going to tell anyone, ofcourse. "

"What do you mean?"

"You _are_ a chap!" giggled Jellicoe. 

Mike walked to chapel rather thoughtfully. 

18

MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT

There was just one moment, the moment in which, on going down to thejunior day room of his house to quell an unseemly disturbance, he wasboisterously greeted by a vermilion bull terrier, when Mr. Downing wasseized with a hideous fear lest he had lost his senses. Glaring down atthe crimson animal that was pawing at his knees, he clutched at hisreason for one second as a drowning man clutches at a life belt. 

Then the happy laughter of the young onlookers reassured him. 

"Who--" he shouted, "WHO has done this?"

"Please, sir, we don't know, " shrilled the chorus. 

"Please, sir, he came in like that. "

"Please, sir, we were sitting here when he suddenly ran in, all red. "

A voice from the crowd: "Look at old Sammy!"

The situation was impossible. There was nothing to be done. He could notfind out by verbal inquiry who had painted the dog. The possibility ofSammy being painted red during the night had never occurred to Mr. Downing, and now that the thing had happened he had no scheme of action. As Psmith would have said, he had confused the unusual with theimpossible, and the result was that he was taken by surprise. 

While he was pondering on this, the situation was rendered still moredifficult by Sammy, who, taking advantage of the door being open, escaped and rushed into the road, thus publishing his condition to alland sundry. You can hush up a painted dog while it confines itself toyour own premises, but once it has mixed with the great public, thisbecomes out of the question. Sammy's state advanced from a privatetrouble into a row. Mr. Downing's next move was in the same directionthat Sammy had taken, only, instead of running about the road, he wentstraight to the headmaster. 

The Head, who had had to leave his house in the small hours in hispajamas and a dressing gown, was not in the best of tempers. He had acold in the head, and also a rooted conviction that Mr. Downing, inspite of his strict orders, had rung the bell himself on the previousnight in order to test the efficiency of the school in saving themselvesin the event of fire. He received the housemaster frostily, but thawedas the latter related the events which had led up to the ringing ofthe bell. 

"Dear me!" he said, deeply interested. "One of the boys at the school, you think?"

"I am certain of it, " said Mr. Downing. 

"Was he wearing a school cap?"

"He was bareheaded. A boy who breaks out of his house at night wouldhardly run the risk of wearing a distinguishing cap. "

"No, no, I suppose not. A big boy, you say?"

"Very big. "

"You did not see his face?"

"It was dark and he never looked back--he was in front of me all thetime. "

"Dear me!"

"There is another matter ... "

"Yes?"

"This boy, whoever he was, had done something before he rang thebell--he had painted my dog Sampson red. "

The headmaster's eyes protruded from their sockets. "He--he--_what_, Mr. Downing?"

"He painted my dog red--bright red. " Mr. Downing was too angry to seeanything humorous in the incident. Since the previous night he had beenwounded in his tenderest feelings, his Fire Brigade system had been mostshamefully abused by being turned into a mere instrument in the hands ofa malefactor for escaping justice, and his dog had been held up toridicule to all the world. He did not want to smile; he wanted revenge. 

The headmaster, on the other hand, did want to smile. It was not hisdog, he could look on the affair with an unbiased eye, and to him therewas something ludicrous in a white dog suddenly appearing as a red dog. 

"It is a scandalous thing!" said Mr. Downing. 

"Quite so! Quite so!" said the headmaster hastily. "I shall punish theboy who did it most severely. I will speak to the school in the Hallafter chapel. "

Which he did, but without result. A cordial invitation to the criminalto come forward and be executed was received in wooden silence by theschool, with the exception of Johnson III, of Outwood's, who, suddenlyreminded of Sammy's appearance by the headmaster's words, broke into awild screech of laughter, and was instantly awarded two hundred lines. 

The school filed out of the Hall to their various lunches, and Mr. Downing was left with the conviction that, if he wanted the criminaldiscovered, he would have to discover him for himself. 

The great thing in affairs of this kind is to get a good start, andFate, feeling perhaps that it had been a little hard upon Mr. Downing, gave him a most magnificent start. Instead of having to hunt for aneedle in a haystack, he found himself in a moment in the position ofbeing set to find it in a mere truss of straw. 

It was Mr. Outwood who helped him. Sergeant Collard had waylaid thearchaeological expert on his way to chapel, and informed him that atclose on twelve the night before he had observed a youth, unidentified, attempting to get into his house _via_ the water pipe. Mr. Outwood, whose thoughts were occupied with apses and plinths, not to mentioncromlechs, at the time, thanked the sergeant with absent mindedpoliteness and passed on. Later he remembered the fact apropos of somereflections on the subject of burglars in medieval England, and passedit on to Mr. Downing as they walked back to lunch. 

"Then the boy was in your house!" exclaimed Mr. Downing. 

"Not actually in, as far as I understand. I gather from the sergeantthat he interrupted him before--"

"I mean he must have been one of the boys in your house. "

"But what was he doing out at that hour?"

"He had broken out. "

"Impossible, I think. Oh yes, quite impossible! I went around thedormitories as usual at eleven o'clock last night, and all the boys wereasleep--all of them. "

Mr. Downing was not listening. He was in a state of suppressedexcitement and exultation, which made it hard for him to attend to hiscolleague's slow utterances. He had a clue! Now that the search hadnarrowed itself down to Outwood's house, the rest was comparativelyeasy. Perhaps Sergeant Collard had actually recognized the boy. Onreflection he dismissed this as unlikely, for the sergeant wouldscarcely have kept a thing like that to himself; but he might very wellhave seen more of him than he, Downing, had seen. It was only with aneffort that he could keep himself from rushing to the sergeant then andthere, and leaving the house lunch to look after itself. He resolved togo the moment that meal was at an end. 

Sunday lunch at a public-school house is probably one of the longestfunctions in existence. It drags its slow length along like a languidsnake, but it finishes in time. In due course Mr. Downing, after sittingstill and eyeing with acute dislike everybody who asked for a secondhelping, found himself at liberty. 

Regardless of the claims of digestion, he rushed forth on the trail. 

Sergeant Collard lived with his wife and a family of unknown dimensionsin the lodge at the school front gate. Dinner was just over when Mr. Downing arrived, as a blind man could have told. 

The sergeant received his visitor with dignity, ejecting the family, whowere torpid after roast beef and resented having to move, in order toensure privacy. 

Having requested his host to smoke, which the latter was about to dounasked, Mr. Downing stated his case. 

"Mr. Outwood, " he said, "tells me that last night, Sergeant, you saw aboy endeavoring to enter his house. "

The sergeant blew a cloud of smoke. "Oo-oo-oo, yer, " he said; "I did, sir--spotted 'im, I did. Feeflee good at spottin', I am, sir. Dook ofConnaught, he used to say, ''Ere comes Sergeant Collard, ' 'e used tosay, ''e's feeflee good at spottin'. '"

"What did you do?"

"Do? Oo-oo-oo! I shouts 'Oo-oo-oo yer, yer young monkey, what yer doin'there?'"

"Yes?"

"But 'e was off in a flash, and I doubles after 'im prompt. "

"But you didn't catch him?"

"No, sir, " admitted the sergeant reluctantly. 

"Did you catch sight of his face, Sergeant?"

"No, sir, 'e was doublin' away in the opposite direction. "

"Did you notice anything at all about his appearance?"

"'E was a long young chap, sir, with a pair of legs on him--feeflee fast'e run, sir. Oo-oo-oo, feeflee!"

"You noticed nothing else?"

"'E wasn't wearing no cap of any sort, sir. "

"Ah!"

"Bare'eaded, sir, " added the sergeant, rubbing the point in. 

"It was undoubtedly the same boy, undoubtedly! I wish you could havecaught a glimpse of his face, Sergeant. "

"So do I, sir. "

"You would not be able to recognize him again if you saw him, youthink?"

"Oo-oo-oo! Wouldn't go as far as to say that, sir, 'cos yer see, I'mfeeflee good at spottin', but it was a dark night. "

Mr. Downing rose to go. 

"Well, " he said, "the search is now considerably narrowed down, considerably! It is certain that the boy was one of the boys in Mr. Outwood's house. "

"Young monkeys!" interjected the sergeant helpfully

"Good afternoon, Sergeant. "

"Good afternoon to you, sir. "

"Pray do not move, Sergeant. "

The sergeant had not shown the slightest inclination of doing anythingof the kind. 

"I will find my way out. Very hot today, is it not?"

"Feeflee warm, sir; weather's goin' to break' workin' up for thunder. "

"I hope not. The school plays the M. C. C. On Wednesday, and it would be apity if rain were to spoil our first fixture with them. Good afternoon. "

And Mr. Downing went out into the baking sunlight, while SergeantCollard, having requested Mrs. Collard to take the children out for awalk at once, and furthermore to give young Ernie a clip side of the'ead, if he persisted in making so much noise, put a handkerchief overhis face, rested his feet on the table, and slept the sleep of the just. 

19

THE SLEUTH-HOUND

For the Doctor Watsons of this world, as opposed to the SherlockHolmeses, success in the province of detective work must be, to a verylarge extent, the result of luck. Sherlock Holmes can extract a cluefrom a wisp of straw or a flake of cigar ash. But Doctor Watson has gotto have it taken out for him, and dusted, and exhibited clearly, with alabel attached. 

The average man is a Doctor Watson. We are wont to scoff in apatronizing manner at that humbler follower of the great investigator, but, as a matter of fact, we should have been just as dull ourselves. Weshould not even have risen to the modest level of a Scotland Yardbungler. We should simply have hung around, saying: "My dear Holmes, how... ?" and all the rest of it, just as the downtrodden medico did. 

It is not often that the ordinary person has any need to see what he cando in the way of detection. He gets along very comfortably in thehumdrum round of life without having to measure footprints and smilequiet, tight-lipped smiles. But if ever the emergency does arise, hethinks naturally of Sherlock Holmes, and his methods. 

Mr. Downing had read all the Holmes stories with great attention, andhad thought many times what an incompetent ass Doctor Watson was; but, now that he had started to handle his own first case, he was compelledto admit that there was a good deal to be said in extenuation ofWatson's inability to unravel tangles. It certainly was uncommonly hard, he thought, as he paced the cricket field after leaving SergeantCollard, to detect anybody, unless you knew who had really done thecrime. As he brooded over the case in hand, his sympathy for DoctorWatson increased with every minute, and he began to feel a certainresentment against Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It was all very well for SirArthur to be so shrewd and infallible about tracing a mystery to itssource, but he knew perfectly well who had done the thing beforehe started!

Now that he began really to look into this matter of the alarm bell andthe painting of Sammy, the conviction was creeping over him that theproblem was more difficult than a casual observer might imagine. He hadgot as far as finding that his quarry of the previous night was a boy inMr. Outwood's house, but how was he to get any further? That was thething. There was, of course, only a limited number of boys in Mr. Outwood's house as tall as the one he had pursued; but even if there hadbeen only one other, it would have complicated matters. If you go to aboy and say, "Either you or Jones were out of your house last night attwelve o'clock, " the boy does not reply, "Sir, I cannot tell a lie--Iwas out of my house last night at twelve o'clock. " He simply assumes theanimated expression of a stuffed fish, and leaves the next move to you. It is practically stalemate. 

All these things passed through Mr. Downing's mind as he walked up anddown the cricket field that afternoon. 

What he wanted was a clue. But it is so hard for the novice to tell whatis a clue and what isn't. Probably, if he only knew, there were clueslying all over the place, shouting to him to pick them up. 

What with the oppressive heat of the day and the fatigue of hardthinking, Mr. Downing was working up for a brainstorm when Fate oncemore intervened, this time in the shape of Riglett, a junior member ofhis house. 

Riglett slunk up in the shamefaced way peculiar to some boys, even whenthey have done nothing wrong, and, having "capped" Mr. Downing with theair of one who had been caught in the act of doing somethingparticularly shady, requested that he might be allowed to fetch hisbicycle from the shed. 

"Your bicycle?" snapped Mr. Downing. Much thinking had made himirritable. "What do you want with your bicycle?"

Riglett shuffled, stood first on his left foot, then on his right, blushed, and finally remarked, as if it were not so much a sound reasonas a sort of feeble excuse for the low and blackguardly fact that hewanted his bicycle, that he had got leave for tea that afternoon. 

Then Mr. Downing remembered. Riglett had an aunt resident about threemiles from the school, whom he was accustomed to visit occasionally onSunday afternoons during the term. 

He felt for his bunch of keys, and made his way to the shed, Riglettshambling behind at an interval of two yards. 

Mr. Downing unlocked the door, and there on the floor was the Clue!

A clue that even Doctor Watson could not have overlooked. 

Mr. Downing saw it, but did not immediately recognize it for what itwas. What he saw at first was not a clue, but just a mess. He had a tidysoul and abhorred messes. And this was a particularly messy mess. Thegreater part of the flooring in the neighborhood of the door was a seaof red paint. The tin from which it had flowed was lying on its side inthe middle of the shed. The air was full of the pungent scent. 

"Pah!" said Mr. Downing. 

Then suddenly, beneath the disguise of the mess, he saw the clue. Afootmark! No less. A crimson footmark on the gray concrete!

Riglett, who had been waiting patiently two yards away, now coughedplaintively. The sound recalled Mr. Downing to mundane matters. 

"Get your bicycle, Riglett, " he said, "and be careful where you tread. Somebody has upset a pot of paint on the floor. "

Riglett, walking delicately through dry places, extracted his bicyclefrom the rack, and presently departed to gladden the heart of his aunt, leaving Mr. Downing, his brain fizzing with the enthusiasm of thedetective, to lock the door and resume his perambulation of thecricket field. 

Give Doctor Watson a fair start, and he is a demon at the game. Mr. Downing's brain was now working with a rapidity and clearness which aprofessional sleuth might have envied. 

Paint. Red paint. Obviously the same paint with which Sammy had beendecorated. A footmark. Whose footmark? Plainly that of the criminal whohad done the deed of decoration. 

Yoicks!

There were two things, however, to be considered. Your careful detectivemust consider everything. In the first place, the paint might have beenupset by the groundsman. It was the groundsman's paint. He had beengiving a fresh coating to the woodwork in front of the pavilion scoringbox at the conclusion of yesterday's match. (A labor of love which wasthe direct outcome of the enthusiasm for work which Adair had instilledinto him. ) In that case the footmark might be his. 

_Note one_: Interview the groundsman on this point. 

In the second place Adair might have upset the tin and trodden in itscontents when he went to get his bicycle in order to fetch the doctorfor the suffering MacPhee. This was the more probable of the twocontingencies, for it would have been dark in the shed when Adairwent into it. 

_Note two_: Interview Adair as to whether he found, on returning to thehouse, that there was paint on his shoes. 

Things were moving. 

 * * * * *

He resolved to take Adair first. He could get the groundsman's addressfrom him. 

Passing by the trees under whose shade Mike and Psmith and Dunster hadwatched the match on the previous day, he came upon the Head of hishouse in a deck chair reading a book. A summer Sunday afternoon is thetime for reading in deck chairs. 

"Oh, Adair, " he said. "No, don't get up. I merely wished to ask you ifyou found any paint on your shoes when you returned to the houselast night. "

"Paint, sir?" Adair was plainly puzzled. His book had been interesting, and had driven the Sammy incident out of his head. 

"I see somebody has spilled some paint on the floor of the bicycle shed. You did not do that, I suppose, when you went to fetch your bicycle?"

"No, sir. "

"It is spilled all over the floor. I wondered whether you had happenedto tread in it. But you say you found no paint on your shoesthis morning?"

"No, sir, my bicycle is always quite near the door of the shed. I didn'tgo into the shed at all. "

"I see. Quite so. Thank you, Adair. Oh, by the way, Adair, where doesMarkby live?"

"I forget the name of his cottage, sir, but I could show you in asecond. It's one of those cottages just past the school gates, on theright as you turn out into the road. There are three in a row. His isthe first you come to. There's a barn just before you get to them. "

"Thank you. I shall be able to find them. I should like to speak toMarkby for a moment on a small matter. "

A sharp walk took him to the cottages Adair had mentioned. He rapped atthe door of the first, and the groundsman came out in his shirt sleeves, blinking as if he had just waked up, as was indeed the case. 

"Oh, Markby!"

"Sir?"

"You remember that you were painting the scoring box in the pavilionlast night after the match?"

"Yes, sir. It wanted a lick of paint bad. The young gentlemen willscramble about and get through the window. Makes it look shabby, sir. SoI thought I'd better give it a coating so as to look shipshape when theMarylebone come down. "

"Just so. An excellent idea. Tell me, Markby, what did you do with thepot of paint when you had finished?"

"Put it in the bicycle shed, sir. "

"On the floor?"

"On the floor, sir? No. On the shelf at the far end, with the can ofwhitening what I use for marking out the wickets, sir. "

"Of course, yes. Quite so. Just as I thought. "

"Do you want it, sir?"

"No, thank you, Markby, no, thank you. The fact is, somebody who had nobusiness to do so has moved the pot of paint from the shelf to thefloor, with the result that it has been kicked over and spilled. You hadbetter get some more tomorrow. Thank you, Markby. That is all Iwished to know. "

Mr. Downing walked back to the school thoroughly excited. He was hot onthe scent now. The only other possible theories had been tested andsuccessfully exploded. The thing had become simple to a degree. All hehad to do was to go to Mr. Outwood's house--the idea of searching afellow master's house did not appear to him at all a delicate task;somehow one grew unconsciously to feel that Mr. Outwood did not reallyexist as a man capable of resenting liberties--find the paint-splashedshoe, ascertain its owner, and denounce him to the headmaster. Therecould be no doubt that a paint-splashed shoe must be in Mr. Outwood'shouse somewhere. A boy cannot tread in a pool of paint without showingsome signs of having done so. It was Sunday, too, so that the shoe wouldnot yet have been cleaned. Yoicks! Also tally-ho! This really wasbeginning to be something like business. 

Regardless of the heat, the sleuth-hound hurried across to Outwood's asfast as he could walk. 

20

A CHECK

The only two members of the house not out in the grounds when he arrivedwere Mike and Psmith. They were standing on the gravel drive in front ofthe boys' entrance. Mike had a deck chair in one hand and a book in theother. Psmith--for even the greatest minds will sometimes unbend--waswrestling with a Yo-Yo. That is to say, he was trying without success tokeep the spool spinning. He smoothed a crease out of his waistcoat andtried again. He had just succeeded in getting the thing to spin when Mr. Downing arrived. The sound of his footsteps disturbed Psmith and broughtthe effort to nothing. 

"Enough of this spoolery, " said he, flinging the spool through the openwindow of the senior day room. "I was an ass ever to try it. Thephilosophical mind needs complete repose in its hours ofleisure. Hello!"

He stared after the sleuth-hound, who had just entered the house. 

"What the dickens, " said Mike, "does he mean by barging in as if he'dbought the place?"

"Comrade Downing looks pleased with himself. What brings him around inthis direction, I wonder! Still, no matter. The few articles which hemay sneak from our study are of inconsiderable value. He is welcome tothem. Do you feel inclined to wait awhile till I have fetched a chairand book?"

"I'll be going on. I shall be under the trees at the far end of theground. "

"'Tis well. I will be with you in about two ticks. "

Mike walked on toward the field, and Psmith, strolling upstairs to fetchhis novel, found Mr. Downing standing in the passage with the air of onewho has lost his bearings. 

"A warm afternoon, sir, " murmured Psmith courteously, as he passed. 

"Er--Smith!"

"Sir?"

"I--er--wish to go round the dormitories. "

It was Psmith's guiding rule in life never to be surprised at anything, so he merely inclined his head gracefully, and said nothing. 

"I should be glad if you would fetch the keys and show me where therooms are. "

"With acute pleasure, sir, " said Psmith. "Or shall I fetch Mr. Outwood, sir?"

"Do as I tell you Smith, " snapped Mr. Downing. 

Psmith said no more, but went down to the matron's room. The matronbeing out, he abstracted the bunch of keys from her table and rejoinedthe master. 

"Shall I lead the way, sir?" he asked. 

Mr. Downing nodded. 

"Here, sir, " said Psmith, opening the door, "we have Barnes's dormitory. An airy room, constructed on the soundest hygienic principles. Each boy, I understand, has quite a considerable number of cubic feet of air allto himself. It is Mr. Outwood's boast that no boy has ever asked for acubic foot of air in vain. He argues justly--"

He broke off abruptly and began to watch the other's maneuvers insilence. Mr. Downing was peering rapidly beneath each bed in turn. 

"Are you looking for Barnes, sir?" inquired Psmith politely. "I thinkhe's out in the field. "

Mr. Downing rose, having examined the last bed, crimson in the face withthe exercise. 

"Show me the next dormitory, Smith, " he said, panting slightly. 

"This, " said Psmith, opening the next door and sinking his voice to anawed whisper, "is where _I_ sleep!"

Mr. Downing glanced swiftly beneath the three beds. 

"Excuse me, sir, " said Psmith, "but are we chasing anything?"

"Be good enough, Smith, " said Mr. Downing with asperity, "to keep yourremarks to yourself. "

"I was only wondering sir. Shall I show you the next in order?"

"Certainly. "

They moved on up the passage. 

Drawing blank at the last dormitory, Mr. Downing paused, baffled. Psmithwaited patiently by. An idea struck the master. 

"The studies, Smith, " he cried. 

"Aha!" said Psmith. "I beg your pardon, sir. The observation escaped meunawares. The frenzy of the chase is beginning to enter into my blood. Here we have--"

Mr. Downing stopped short. 

"Is this impertinence studied, Smith?"

"Ferguson's study, sir? No, sir. That's farther down the passage. Thisis Barnes's. "

Mr. Downing looked at him closely. Psmith's face was wooden in itsgravity. The master snorted suspiciously, then moved on. 

"Whose is this?" he asked, rapping a door. 

"This, sir, is mine and Jackson's. "

"What! Have you a study? You are low down in the school for it. "

"I think, sir, that Mr. Outwood gave it us rather as a testimonial toour general worth than to our proficiency in schoolwork. "

Mr. Downing raked the room with a keen eye. The absence of bars from thewindow attracted his attention. 

"Have you no bars to your windows here, such as there are in my house?"

"There appears to be no bar, sir, " said Psmith, putting up his eyeglass. 

Mr. Downing was leaning out of the window. 

"A lovely view, is it not, sir?" said Psmith. "The trees, the field, thedistant hills ... "

Mr. Downing suddenly started. His eye had been caught by the water pipeat the side of the window. The boy whom Sergeant Collard had seenclimbing the pipe must have been making for this study. 

He spun around and met Psmith's blandly inquiring gaze. He looked atPsmith carefully for a moment. No. The boy he had chased last night hadnot been Psmith. That exquisite's figure and general appearance wereunmistakable, even in the dusk. 

"Whom did you say you shared this study with, Smith?"

"Jackson, sir. The cricketer. "

"Never mind about his cricket, Smith, " said Mr. Downing with irritation. 

"No, sir. "

"He is the only other occupant of the room?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Nobody else comes into it?"

"If they do, they go out extremely quickly, sir. "

"Ah! Thank you, Smith. "

"Not at all, sir. "

Mr. Downing pondered. Jackson! The boy bore him a grudge. The boy wasprecisely the sort of boy to revenge himself by painting the dog Sammy. And, gadzooks! The boy whom he had pursued last night had been justabout Jackson's size and build!

Mr. Downing was as firmly convinced at that moment that Mike's had beenthe hand to wield the paintbrush as he had ever been of anything inhis life. 

"Smith!" he said excitedly. 

"On the spot, sir, " said Psmith affably. 

"Where are Jackson's shoes?"

There are moments when the giddy excitement of being right on the trailcauses the amateur (or Watsonian) detective to be incautious. Such amoment came to Mr. Downing then. If he had been wise, he would haveachieved his object, the getting a glimpse of Mike's shoes, by a deviousand snaky route. As it was, he rushed straight on. 

"His shoes, sir? He has them on. I noticed them as he went out justnow. "

"Where is the pair he wore yesterday?"

"Where are the shoes of yesteryear?" murmured Psmith to himself. "Ishould say at a venture, sir, that they would be in the basket, downstairs. Edmund, our genial knife-and-boot boy, collects them, Ibelieve, at early dawn. "

"Would they have been cleaned yet?"

"If I know Edmund, sir--no. "

"Smith, " said Mr. Downing, trembling with excitement, "go and bring thatbasket to me here. "

Psmith's brain was working rapidly as he went downstairs. What exactlywas at the back of the sleuth's mind, prompting these maneuvers, he didnot know. But that there was something, and that that something wasdirected in a hostile manner against Mike, probably in connection withlast night's wild happenings, he was certain. Psmith had noticed, onleaving his bed at the sound of the alarm bell, that he and Jellicoewere alone in the room. That might mean that Mike had gone out throughthe door when the bell sounded, or it might mean that he had been outall the time. It began to look as if the latter solution were thecorrect one. 

He staggered back with the basket, painfully conscious all the whilethat it was creasing his waistcoat, and dumped it down on the studyfloor. Mr. Downing stooped eagerly over it. Psmith leaned against thewall, and straightened out the damaged garment. 

"We have here, sir, " he said, "a fair selection of our variousbootings. "

Mr. Downing looked up. 

"You dropped none of the shoes on your way up, Smith?"

"Not one, sir. It was a fine performance. "

Mr. Downing uttered a grunt of satisfaction, and bent once more to histask. Shoes flew about the room. Mr. Downing knelt on the floor besidethe basket, and dug like a terrier at a rathole. 

At last he made a dive, and, with an exclamation of triumph, rose to hisfeet. In his hand he held a shoe. 

"Put those back again, Smith, " he said. 

The ex-Etonian, wearing an expression such as a martyr might have wornon being told off for the stake, began to pick up the scatteredfootgear, whistling softly the tune of "I do all the dirty work, " ashe did so. 

"That's the lot, sir, " he said, rising. 

"Ah. Now come across with me to the headmaster's house. Leave the baskethere. You can carry it back when you return. "

"Shall I put back that shoe, sir?"

"Certainly not. I shall take this with me, of course. "

"Shall I carry it, sir?"

Mr. Downing reflected. 

"Yes, Smith, " he said. "I think it would be best. "

It occurred to him that the spectacle of a house master wandering abroadon the public highway, carrying a dirty shoe, might be a trifleundignified. You never knew whom you might meet on Sunday afternoon. 

Psmith took the shoe, and doing so, understood what before had puzzledhim. 

Across the toe of the shoe was a broad splash of red paint. 

He knew nothing, of course, of the upset tin in the bicycle shed; butwhen a housemaster's dog has been painted red in the night, and when, onthe following day, the housemaster goes about in search of a paintsplashed shoe, one puts two and two together. Psmith looked at the nameinside the shoe. It was "Brown bootmaker, Bridgnorth. " Bridgnorth wasonly a few miles from his own home and Mike's. Undoubtedly it wasMike's shoe. 

"Can you tell me whose shoe that is?" asked Mr. Downing. 

Psmith looked at it again. 

"No, sir. I can't say the little chap's familiar to me. "

"Come with me, then. "

Mr. Downing left the room. After a moment Psmith followed him. 

The headmaster was in his garden. Thither Mr. Downing made his way, theshoe-bearing Psmith in close attendance. 

The Head listened to the amateur detective's statement with interest. 

"Indeed?" he said, when Mr. Downing had finished, "Indeed? Dear me! Itcertainly seems ... It is a curiously well-connected thread of evidence. You are certain that there was red paint on this shoe you discovered inMr. Outwood's house?"

"I have it with me. I brought it on purpose to show to you. Smith!"

"Sir?"

"You have the shoe?"

"Ah, " said the headmaster, putting on a pair of pince-nez, "now let melook at--This, you say, is the--? Just so. Just so. Just ... But, er, Mr. Downing, it may be that I have not examined this shoe withsufficient care, but--Can _you_ point out to me exactly where this paintis that you speak of?"

Mr. Downing stood staring at the shoe with a wild, fixed stare. Of anysuspicion of paint, red or otherwise, it was absolutely andentirely innocent. 

21

THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE

The shoe became the center of attention, the cynosure of all eyes. Mr. Downing fixed it with the piercing stare of one who feels that his brainis tottering. The headmaster looked at it with a mildly puzzledexpression. Psmith, putting up his eyeglass, gazed at it with a sort ofaffectionate interest, as if he were waiting for it to do a trick ofsome kind. 

Mr. Downing was the first to break the silence. 

"There was paint on this shoe, " he said vehemently. "I tell you therewas a splash of red paint across the toe. Smith will bear me out inthis. Smith, you saw the paint on this shoe?"

"Paint, sir?"

"What! Do you mean to tell me that you did _not_ see it?"

"No, sir. There was no paint on this shoe. "

"This is foolery. I saw it with my own eyes. It was a broad splash rightacross the toe. "

The headmaster interposed. 

"You must have made a mistake, Mr. Downing. There is certainly no traceof paint on this shoe. These momentary optical delusions are, I fancy, not uncommon. Any doctor will tell you--"

"I had an aunt, sir, " said Psmith chattily, "who was remarkablysubject--"

"It is absurd. I cannot have been mistaken, " said Mr. Downing. "I ampositively certain the toe of this shoe was red when I found it. "

"It is undoubtedly black now, Mr. Downing. "

"A sort of chameleon shoe, " murmured Psmith. 

The goaded housemaster turned on him. 

"What did you say, Smith?"

"Did I speak, sir?" said Psmith, with the start of one coming suddenlyout of a trance. 

Mr. Downing looked searchingly at him. 

"You had better be careful, Smith. "

"Yes, sir. "

"I strongly suspect you of having something to do with this. "

"Really, Mr. Downing, " said the headmaster, "this is surely improbable. Smith could scarcely have cleaned the shoe on his way to my house. Onone occasion I inadvertently spilled some paint on a shoe of my own. Ican assure you that it does not brush off. It needs a very systematiccleaning before all traces are removed. "

"Exactly, sir, " said Psmith. "My theory, if I may... ?"

"Certainly Smith. "

Psmith bowed courteously and proceeded. 

"My theory, sir, is that Mr. Downing was deceived by the light-and-shadeeffects on the toe of the shoe. The afternoon sun, streaming in throughthe window, must have shone on the shoe in such a manner as to give it amomentary and fictitious aspect of redness. If Mr. Downing recollects, he did not look long at the shoe. The picture on the retina of the eye, consequently, had not time to fade. I remember thinking myself, at themoment, that the shoe appeared to have a certain reddish tint. Themistake.... "

"Bag!" said Mr. Downing shortly. 

"Well, really, " said the headmaster, "it seems to me that that is theonly explanation that will square with the facts. A shoe that is reallysmeared with red paint does not become black of itself in the course ofa few minutes. "

"You are very right, sir, " said Psmith with benevolent approval. "May Igo now, sir? I am in the middle of a singularly impressive passage ofCicero's speech _De senectute_. "

"I am sorry that you should leave your preparation till Sunday, Smith. It is a habit of which I altogether disapprove. "

"I am reading it, sir, " said Psmith, with simple dignity, "for pleasure. Shall I take the shoe with me, sir?"

"If Mr. Downing does not want it?"

The housemaster passed the fraudulent piece of evidence to Psmithwithout a word, and the latter, having included both masters in a kindlysmile, left the garden. 

Pedestrians who had the good fortune to be passing along the roadbetween the headmaster's house and Mr. Outwood's at that moment sawwhat, if they had but known it, was a most unusual sight, the spectacleof Psmith running. Psmith's usual mode of progression was a dignifiedwalk. He believed in the contemplative style rather than the hustling. 

On this occasion, however, reckless of possible injuries to the creaseof his trousers, he raced down the road, and turning in at Outwood'sgate, bounded upstairs like a highly trained professional athlete. 

On arriving at the study, his first act was to remove a shoe from thetop of the pile in the basket, place it in the small cupboard under thebookshelf, and lock the cupboard. Then he flung himself into a chairand panted. 

"Brain, " he said to himself approvingly, "is what one chiefly needs inmatters of this kind. Without brain, where are we? In the soup, everytime. The next development will be when Comrade Downing thinks it over, and is struck with the brilliant idea that it's just possible that theshoe he gave me to carry and the shoe I did carry were not one shoe buttwo shoes. Meanwhile ... "

He dragged up another chair for his feet and picked up his novel. 

He had not been reading long when there was a footstep in the passage, and Mr. Downing appeared. 

The possibility, in fact the probability, of Psmith's having substitutedanother shoe for the one with the incriminating splash of paint on ithad occurred to him almost immediately on leaving the headmaster'sgarden. Psmith and Mike, he reflected, were friends. Psmith's impulsewould be to do all that lay in his power to shield Mike. Feelingaggrieved with himself that he had not thought of this before, he, too, hurried over to Outwood's. 

Mr. Downing was brisk and peremptory. 

"I wish to look at these shoes again, " he said. Psmith, with a sigh, laid down his novel, and rose to assist him. 

"Sit down, Smith, " said the housemaster. "I can manage without yourhelp. "

Psmith sat down again, carefully tucking up the knees of his trousers, and watched him with silent interest through his eyeglass. 

The scrutiny irritated Mr. Downing. 

"Put that thing away, Smith, " he said. 

"That thing, sir?"

"Yes, that ridiculous glass. Put it away. "

"Why, sir?"

"Why! Because I tell you to do so. "

"I guessed that that was the reason, sir, " sighed Psmith, replacing theeyeglass in his waistcoat pocket. He rested his elbows on his knees, andhis chin on his hands, and resumed his contemplative inspection of theshoe expert, who, after fidgeting for a few moments, lodged anothercomplaint. 

"Don't sit there staring at me, Smith. "

"I was interested in what you were doing, sir. "

"Never mind. Don't stare at me in that idiotic way. "

"May I read, sir?" asked Psmith, patiently. 

"Yes, read if you like. "

"Thank you, sir. "

Psmith took up his book again, and Mr. Downing, now thoroughlyirritated, pursued his investigations in the boot basket. 

He went through it twice, but each time without success. After thesecond search, he stood up, and looked wildly round the room. He was ascertain as he could be of anything that the missing piece of evidencewas somewhere in the study. It was no use asking Psmith point-blankwhere it was, for Psmith's ability to parry dangerous questions withevasive answers was quite out of the common. 

His eye roamed about the room. There was very little cover there, evenfor so small a fugitive as a number nine shoe. The floor could beacquitted, on sight, of harboring the quarry. 

Then he caught sight of the cupboard, and something seemed to tell himthat there was the place to look. 

"Smith!" he said. 

Psmith had been reading placidly all the while. 

"Yes, sir?"

"What is in this cupboard?"

"That cupboard, sir?"

"Yes. This cupboard. " Mr. Downing rapped the door irritably. 

"Just a few odd trifles, sir. We do not often use it. A ball of string, perhaps. Possibly an old notebook. Nothing of value or interest. 

"Open it. "

"I think you will find that it is locked, sir. "

"Unlock it. "

"But where is the key, sir?"

"Have you not got the key?"

"If the key is not in the lock, sir, you may depend upon it that it willtake a long search to find it. "

"Where did you see it last?"

"It was in the lock yesterday morning. Jackson might have taken it. "

"Where is Jackson?"

"Out in the field somewhere, sir. "

Mr. Downing thought for a moment. 

"I don't believe a word of it, " he said shortly. "I have my reasons forthinking that you are deliberately keeping the contents of that cupboardfrom me. I shall break open the door. "

Psmith got up. 

"I'm afraid you mustn't do that, sir. "

Mr. Downing stared, amazed. 

"Are you aware whom you are talking to, Smith?" he inquired icily. 

"Yes, sir. And I know it's not Mr. Outwood, to whom that cupboardhappens to belong. If you wish to break it open, you must get hispermission. He is the sole lessee and proprietor of that cupboard. I amonly the acting manager. "

Mr. Downing paused. He also reflected. Mr. Outwood in the general ruledid not count much in the scheme of things, but possibly there werelimits to the treating of him as if he did not exist. To enter his housewithout his permission and search it to a certain extent was all verywell. But when it came to breaking up his furniture, perhaps... !

On the other hand, there was the maddening thought that if he left thestudy in search of Mr. Outwood, in order to obtain his sanction for thehouse-breaking work which he proposed to carry through, Smith would bealone in the room. And he knew that if Smith were left alone in theroom, he would instantly remove the shoe to some other hiding place. Hethoroughly disbelieved the story of the lost key. He was perfectlyconvinced that the missing shoe was in the cupboard. 

He stood chewing these thoughts for a while, Psmith in the meantimestanding in a graceful attitude in front of the cupboard, staringinto vacancy. 

Then he was seized with a happy idea. Why should he leave the room atall? If he sent Smith, then he himself could wait and make certain thatthe cupboard was not tampered with. 

"Smith, " he said, "go and find Mr. Outwood, and ask him to be goodenough to come here for a moment. "

22

MAINLY ABOUT SHOES

"Be quick, Smith, " he said, as the latter stood looking at him withoutmaking any movement in the direction of the door. 

"_Quick_, sir?" said Psmith meditatively, as if he had been asked aconundrum. 

"Go and find Mr. Outwood at once. "

Psmith still made no move. 

"Do you intend to disobey me, Smith?" Mr. Downing's voice was steely. 

"Yes, sir. "

"What!"

"Yes, sir. "

There was one of those you-could-have-heard-a-pin-drop silences. Psmithwas staring reflectively at the ceiling. Mr. Downing was looking as ifat any moment he might say, "Thwarted to me face, ha, ha! And by a verystripling!"

It was Psmith, however, who resumed the conversation. His manner wasalmost too respectful; which made it all the more a pity that what hesaid did not keep up the standard of docility. 

"I take my stand, " he said, "on a technical point. I say to myself, 'Mr. Downing is a man I admire as a human being and respect as amaster. In--'"

"This impertinence is doing you no good, Smith. "

Psmith waved a hand deprecatingly. 

"If you will let me explain, sir. I was about to say that in any otherplace but Mr. Outwood's house, your word would be law. I would fly to doyour bidding. If you pressed a button, I would do the rest. But in Mr. Outwood's house I cannot do anything except what pleases me or what isordered by Mr. Outwood. I ought to have remembered that before. Onecannot, " he continued, as who should say, "Let us be reasonable, " "onecannot, to take a parallel case, imagine the colonel commanding thegarrison at a naval station going on board a battleship and ordering thecrew to splice the jibboom spanker. It might be an admirable thing forthe Empire that the jibboom spanker _should_ be spliced at thatparticular juncture, but the crew would naturally decline to move in thematter until the order came from the commander of the ship. So in mycase. If you will go to Mr. Outwood, explain to him how matters stand, and come back and say to me, 'Psmith, Mr. Outwood wishes you to ask himto be good enough to come to this study, ' then I shall be only too gladto go and find him. You see my difficulty, sir?"

"Go and fetch Mr. Outwood, Smith. I shall not tell you again. "

Psmith flicked a speck of dust from his coat sleeve. 

"Very well, Smith. "

"I can assure you, sir, at any rate, that if there is a shoe in thatcupboard now, there will be a shoe there when you return. "

Mr. Downing stalked out of the room. 

"But, " added Psmith pensively to himself, as the footsteps died away, "Idid not promise that it would be the same shoe. "

He took the key from his pocket, unlocked the cupboard, and took out theshoe. Then he selected from the basket a particularly battered specimen. Placing this in the cupboard, he relocked the door. 

His next act was to take from the shelf a piece of string. Attaching oneend of this to the shoe that he had taken from the cupboard, he went tothe window. His first act was to fling the cupboard key out into thebushes. Then he turned to the shoe. On a level with the sill the waterpipe, up which Mike had started to climb the night before, was fastenedto the wall by an iron band. He tied the other end of the string tothis, and let the shoe swing free. He noticed with approval, when it hadstopped swinging, that it was hidden from above by the windowsill. 

He returned to his place at the mantelpiece. 

As an afterthought he took another shoe from the basket, and thrust itup the chimney. A shower of soot fell into the grate, blackeninghis hand. 

The bathroom was a few yards down the corridor. He went there, andwashed off the soot. 

When he returned, Mr. Downing was in the study, and with him Mr. Outwood, the latter looking dazed, as if he were not quite equal to theintellectual pressure of the situation. 

"Where have you been, Smith?" asked Mr. Downing sharply. 

"I have been washing my hands, sir. "

"H'm!" said Mr. Downing suspiciously. 

"Yes, I saw Smith go into the bathroom, " said Mr. Outwood. "Smith, Icannot quite understand what it is Mr. Downing wishes me to do. "

"My dear Outwood, " snapped the sleuth, "I thought I had made itperfectly clear. Where is the difficulty?"

"I cannot understand why you should suspect Smith of keeping his shoesin a cupboard, and, " added Mr. Outwood with spirit, catching sight of agood-gracious-has-the-man-_no_-sense look on the other's face, "Why heshould not do so if he wishes it. "

"Exactly, sir, " said Psmith, approvingly. "You have touched the spot. "

"If I must explain again, my dear Outwood, will you kindly give me yourattention for a moment. Last night a boy broke out of your house, andpainted my dog Sampson red. "

"He painted... !" said Mr. Outwood, round-eyed. "Why?"

"I don't know why. At any rate, he did. During the escapade one of hisshoes was splashed with the paint. It is that shoe which I believe Smithto be concealing in this cupboard. Now, do you understand?"

Mr. Outwood looked amazedly at Psmith, and Psmith shook his headsorrowfully at Mr. Outwood. Psmith's expression said, as plainly as ifhe had spoken the words, "We must humor him. "

"So with your permission, as Smith declares that he has lost the key, Ipropose to break open the door of this cupboard. Have you anyobjection?"

Mr. Outwood started. 

"Objection? None at all, my dear fellow, none at all. Let me see, _what_is it you wish to do?"

"This, " said Mr. Downing shortly. 

There was a pair of dumbbells on the floor, belonging to Mike. He neverused them, but they always managed to get themselves packed with therest of his belongings on the last day of the holidays. Mr. Downingseized one of these, and delivered two rapid blows at the cupboard door. The wood splintered. A third blow smashed the flimsy lock. The cupboard, with any skeletons it might contain, was open for all to view. 

Mr. Downing uttered a cry of triumph, and tore the shoe from its restingplace. 

"I told you, " he said. "I told you. "

"I wondered where that shoe had got to, " said Psmith. "I've been lookingfor it for days. "

Mr. Downing was examining his find. He looked up with an exclamation ofsurprise and wrath. 

"This shoe has no paint on it, " he said, glaring at Psmith. "This is notthe shoe. "

"It certainly appears, sir, " said Psmith sympathetically, "to be freefrom paint. There's a sort of reddish glow just there, if you look at itsideways, " he added helpfully. 

"Did you place that shoe there, Smith?"

"I must have done. Then, when I lost the key--"

"Are you satisfied now, Downing?" interrupted Mr. Outwood with asperity, "or is there any more furniture you wish to break?"

The excitement of seeing his household goods smashed with a dumbbell hadmade the archaeological student quite a swashbuckler for the moment. Alittle more, and one could imagine him giving Mr. Downing a good, hard knock. 

The sleuth-hound stood still for a moment, baffled. But his brain wasworking with the rapidity of a buzz saw. A chance remark of Mr. Outwood's set him fizzing off on the trail once more. Mr. Outwood hadcaught sight of the little pile of soot in the grate. He bent down toinspect it. 

"Dear me, " he said, "I must remember to have the chimneys swept. Itshould have been done before. "

Mr. Downing's eye, rolling in a fine frenzy from heaven to earth, fromearth to heaven, also focused itself on the pile of soot; and a thrillwent through him. Soot in the fireplace! Smith washing his hands! ("Youknow my methods, my dear Watson. Apply them. ")

Mr. Downing's mind at that moment contained one single thought; and thatthought was, "What ho for the chimney!"

He dived forward with a rush, nearly knocking Mr. Outwood off his feet, and thrust an arm up into the unknown. An avalanche of soot fell uponhis hand and wrist, but he ignored it, for at the same instant hisfingers had closed upon what he was seeking. 

"Ah, " he said. "I thought as much. You were not quite clever enough, after all, Smith. "

"No, sir, " said Psmith patiently. "We all make mistakes. "

"You would have done better, Smith, not to have given me all thistrouble. You have done yourself no good by it. "

"It's been great fun, though, sir, " argued Psmith. 

"Fun!" Mr. Downing laughed grimly. "You may have reason to change youropinion of what constitutes--"

His voice failed as his eye fell on the all-black toe of the shoe. Helooked up, and caught Psmith's benevolent gaze. He straightened himselfand brushed a bead of perspiration from his face with the back of hishand. Unfortunately, he used the sooty hand, and the result was that helooked like a chimney sweep at work. 

"Did--you--put--that--shoe--there, Smith?" he asked slowly. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Then what did you _MEAN_ by putting it there?" roared Mr. Downing. 

"Animal spirits, sir, " said Psmith. 

"WHAT?"

"Animal spirits, sir. "

What Mr. Downing would have replied to this one cannot tell, though onecan guess roughly. For, just as he was opening his mouth, Mr. Outwood, catching sight of his soot-covered countenance, intervened. 

"My dear Downing, " he said, "your face. It is positively covered withsoot, positively. You must come and wash it. You are quite black. Reallyyou present a most curious appearance, most. Let me show you the wayto my room. "

In all times of storm and tribulation there comes a breaking point, apoint where the spirit definitely refuses to battle any longer againstthe slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Mr. Downing could not bearup against this crowning blow. He went down beneath it. In the languageof the ring, he took the count. It was the knockout. 

"Soot!" he murmured weakly. "Soot!"

"Your face is covered, my dear fellow, quite covered. "

"It certainly has a faintly sooty aspect, sir, " said Psmith. 

His voice roused the sufferer to one last flicker of spirit. 

"You will hear more of this, Smith, " he said. "I say you will hear moreof it. "

Then he allowed Mr. Outwood to lead him out to a place where there weretowels, soap, and sponges. 

 * * * * *

When they had gone, Psmith went to the window, and hauled in the string. He felt the calm afterglow which comes to the general after asuccessfully conducted battle. It had been trying, of course, for a manof refinement, and it had cut into his afternoon, but on the whole ithad been worth it. 

The problem now was what to do with the painted shoe. It would take alot of cleaning, he saw, even if he could get hold of the necessaryimplements for cleaning it. And he rather doubted if he would be able todo so. Edmund, the boot-boy, worked in some mysterious cell far from themadding crowd, at the back of the house. In the boot cupboard downstairsthere would probably be nothing likely to be of any use. 

His fears were realized. The boot cupboard was empty. It seemed to himthat, for the time being, the best thing he could do would be to placethe shoe in safe hiding, until he would have thought out a scheme. 

Having restored the basket to its proper place, accordingly, he went upto the study again, and placed the red-toed shoe in the chimney, atabout the same height where Mr. Downing had found the other. Nobodywould think of looking there a second time, and it was improbable thatMr. Outwood really would have the chimneys swept, as he had said. Theodds were that he had forgotten about it already. 

Psmith went to the bathroom to wash his hands again, with the feelingthat he had done a good day's work. 

23

ON THE TRAIL AGAIN

The most massive minds are apt to forget things at times. The mostadroit plotters make their little mistakes. Psmith was no exception tothe rule. He made the mistake of not telling Mike of the afternoon'shappenings. 

It was not altogether forgetfulness. Psmith was one of those people wholike to carry through their operations entirely by themselves. Wherethere is only one in a secret, the secret is more liable to remainunrevealed. There was nothing, he thought, to be gained from tellingMike. He forgot what the consequences might be if he did not. 

So Psmith kept his own counsel, with the result that Mike went over toschool on the Monday morning in gym shoes. 

Edmund, summoned from the hinterland of the house to give his opinionwhy only one of Mike's shoes was to be found, had no views on thesubject. He seemed to look on it as one of these things which no fellowcan understand. 

"'Ere's one of 'em, Mr. Jackson, " he said, as if he hoped that Mikemight be satisfied with a compromise. 

"One? What's the good of that, Edmund, you chump? I can't go over toschool in one shoe. "

Edmund turned this over in his mind, and then said, "No, sir, " as muchas to say, "I may have lost a shoe, but, thank goodness, I can stillunderstand sound reasoning. "

"Well, what am I to do? Where _is_ the other shoe?"

"Don't know, Mr. Jackson, " replied Edmund to both questions. 

"Well, I mean ... Oh, dash it, there's the bell. " And Mike sprinted offin the gym shoes he stood in. 

It is only a deviation from those ordinary rules of school life, whichone observes naturally and without thinking, that enables one to realizehow strong public-school prejudices really are. At a school, forinstance, where the regulations say that coats only of black or darkblue are to be worn, a boy who appears one day in even the mostrespectable and unostentatious brown finds himself looked on with amixture of awe and repulsion, which would be excessive if he hadsandbagged the headmaster. So in the case of shoes. School rules decreethat a boy shall go to his form room in shoes. There is no real reasonwhy, if the day is fine, he should not wear gym shoes, should he preferthem. But, if he does, the thing creates a perfect sensation. Boys say, "Great Scott, what _have_ you got on?" Masters say, "Jones, _what_ areyou wearing on your feet?" In the few minutes which elapse between theassembling of the form for call-over and the arrival of the form master, some wag is sure either to stamp on the gym shoes, accompanying the actwith some satirical remark, or else to pull one of them off, andinaugurate an impromptu game of football with it. There was once a boywho went to school one morning in elastic-sided boots. 

Mike had always been coldly distant in his relations to the rest of hisform, looking on them, with a few exceptions, as worms; and the form, since his innings against Downing's on the Friday, had regarded Mikewith respect. So that he escaped the ragging he would have had toundergo at Wrykyn in similar circumstance. It was only Mr. Downing whogave trouble. 

There is a sort of instinct which enables some masters to tell when aboy in their form is wearing gym shoes instead of the more formal kind, just as people who dislike cats always know when one is in a room withthem. They cannot see it but they feel it in their bones. 

Mr. Downing was perhaps the most bigoted anti-gym-shoeist in the wholelist of English schoolmasters. He waged war remorselessly against gymshoes. Satire, abuse, lines, detention--every weapon was employed by himin dealing with their wearers. It had been the late Dunster's practicealways to go over to school in gym shoes when, as he usually did, hefelt shaky in the morning's lesson. Mr. Downing always detected him inthe first five minutes, and that meant a lecture of anything from tenminutes to a quarter of an hour on Untidy Habits and Boys Who LookedLike Loafers--which broke the back of the morning's work nicely. On oneoccasion, when a particularly tricky bit of Livy was on the bill offare, Dunster had entered the form room in heelless Turkish bathslippers, of a vivid crimson; and the subsequent proceedings, includinghis journey over to the house to change the heelless atrocities, hadseen him through very nearly to the quarter-to-eleven interval. 

Mike, accordingly, had not been in his place for three minutes when Mr. Downing, stiffening like a pointer, called his name. 

"Yes, sir?" said Mike. 

"_What_ are you wearing on your feet, Jackson?"

"Gym shoes, sir. "

"You are wearing gym shoes? Are you not aware that gym shoes are not theproper things to come to school in? Why are you wearing gym shoes?"

The form, leaning back against the next row of desks, settled itselfcomfortably for the address from the throne. 

"I have lost one of my shoes, sir. "

A kind of gulp escaped from Mr. Downing's lips. He stared at Mike for amoment in silence. Then, turning to Stone, he told him to starttranslating. 

Stone, who had been expecting at least ten minutes' respite, was takenunawares. When he found the place in his book and began to construe, hefloundered hopelessly. But, to his growing surprise and satisfaction, the form master appeared to notice nothing wrong. He said "Yes, yes, "mechanically, and finally, "That will do, " whereupon Stone resumed hisseat with the feeling that the age of miracles had returned. 

Mr. Downing's mind was in a whirl. His case was complete. Mike'sappearance in gym shoes, with the explanation that he had lost a shoe, completed the chain. As Columbus must have felt when his ship ran intoharbor, and the first American interviewer, jumping on board, said, "Wal, sir, and what are your impressions of our glorious country?" sodid Mr. Downing feel at that moment. 

When the bell rang at a quarter to eleven, he gathered up his gown andsped to the headmaster. 

24

THE ADAIR METHOD

It was during the interval that day that Stone and Robinson, discussingthe subject of cricket over a bun and ginger beer at the school shop, came to a momentous decision, to wit, that they were fed up with theAdair administration and meant to strike. The immediate cause of revoltwas early-morning fielding practice, that searching test of cricketkeenness. Mike himself, to whom cricket was the great and seriousinterest in life, had shirked early-morning fielding practice in hisfirst term at Wrykyn. And Stone and Robinson had but a lukewarmattachment to the game, compared with Mike's. 

As a rule, Adair had contented himself with practice in the afternoonafter school, which nobody objects to; and no strain, consequently, hadbeen put upon Stone's and Robinson's allegiance. In view of the M. C. C. Match on the Wednesday, however, he had now added to this an extra doseto be taken before breakfast. Stone and Robinson had left theircomfortable beds that day at six o'clock, yawning and heavy-eyed, andhad caught catches and fielded drives which, in the cool morning air, had stung like adders and bitten like serpents. Until the sun has reallygot to work, it is no joke taking a high catch. Stone's dislike of theexperiment was only equaled by Robinson's. They were neither of them ofthe type which likes to undergo hardships for the common good. Theyplayed well enough when on the field, but neither cared greatly whetherthe school had a good season or not. They played the games entirely fortheir own sakes. 

The result was that they went back to the house for breakfast with anever-again feeling, and at the earliest possible moment met to debateas to what was to be done about it. At all costs another experience liketoday's must be avoided. 

"It's all rot, " said Stone. "What on earth's the good of sweating aboutbefore breakfast? It only makes you tired. "

"I shouldn't wonder, " said Robinson, "if it wasn't bad for the heart. Rushing about on an empty stomach, I mean, and all that sort of thing. "

"Personally, " said Stone, gnawing his bun, "I don't intend to stick it. "

"Nor do I. "

"I mean, it's such absolute rot. If we aren't good enough to play forthe team without having to get up overnight to catch catches, he'dbetter find somebody else. "

"Yes. "

At this moment Adair came into the shop. 

"Fielding practice again tomorrow, " he said briskly, "at six. "

"Before breakfast?" said Robinson. 

"Rather. You two must buck up, you know. You were rotten today. " And hepassed on, leaving the two malcontents speechless. 

Stone was the first to recover. 

"I'm hanged if I turn out tomorrow, " he said, as they left the shop. "Hecan do what he likes about it. Besides, what can he do, after all? Onlykick us out of the team. And I don't mind that. "

"Nor do I. "

"I don't think he will kick us out, either. He can't play the M. C. C. With a scratch team. If he does, we'll go and play for that villageJackson plays for. We'll get Jackson to shove us into the team. "

"All right, " said Robinson. "Let's. "

Their position was a strong one. A cricket captain may seem to be anautocrat of tremendous power, but in reality he has only one weapon, thekeenness of those under him. With the majority, of course, the fear ofbeing excluded or ejected from a team is a spur that drives. Themajority, consequently, are easily handled. But when a cricket captainruns up against a boy who does not much care whether he plays for theteam or not, then he finds himself in a difficult position, and, unlesshe is a man of action, practically helpless. 

Stone and Robinson felt secure. Taking it all around, they felt thatthey would just as soon play for Lower Borlock as for the school. Thebowling of the opposition would be weaker in the former case, and thechance of making runs greater. To a certain type of cricketer runs areruns, wherever and however made. 

The result of all this was that Adair, turning out with the team nextmorning for fielding practice, found himself two short. Barnes was amongthose present, but of the other two representatives of Outwood's housethere were no signs. 

Barnes, questioned on the subject, had no information to give, beyondthe fact that he had not seen them about anywhere. Which was not a greathelp. Adair proceeded with the fielding practice without further delay. 

At breakfast that morning he was silent and apparently rapt in thought. Mr. Downing, who sat at the top of the table with Adair on his right, was accustomed at the morning meal to blend nourishment of the body withthat of the mind. As a rule he had ten minutes with the daily paperbefore the bell rang, and it was his practice to hand on the results ofhis reading to Adair and the other house prefects, who, not having seenthe paper, usually formed an interested and appreciative audience. Today, however, though the house prefects expressed varying degrees ofexcitement at the news that Sheppard had made a century againstGloucestershire, and that a butter famine was expected in the UnitedStates, these world-shaking news items seemed to leave Adair cold. Hechamped his bread and marmalade with an abstracted air. 

He was wondering what to do in the matter of Stone and Robinson. 

Many captains might have passed the thing over. To take it for grantedthat the missing pair had overslept themselves would have been a safeand convenient way out of the difficulty. But Adair was not the sort ofperson who seeks for safe and convenient ways out of difficulties. Henever shirked anything, physical or moral. 

He resolved to interview the absentees. 

It was not until after school that an opportunity offered itself. Hewent across to Outwood's and found the two nonstarters in the senior dayroom, engaged in the intellectual pursuit of kicking the wall andmarking the height of each kick with chalk. Adair's entrance coincidedwith a record effort by Stone, which caused the kicker to overbalanceand stagger backward against the captain. 

"Sorry, " said Stone. "Hello, Adair!"

"Don't mention it. Why weren't you two at fielding practice thismorning?"

Robinson, who left the lead to Stone in all matters, said nothing. Stonespoke. 

"We didn't turn up, " he said. 

"I know you didn't. Why not?"

Stone had rehearsed this scene in his mind, and he spoke with thecoolness which comes from rehearsal. 

"We decided not to. "

"Oh?"

"Yes. We came to the conclusion that we hadn't any use for early-morningfielding. "

Adair's manner became ominously calm. 

"You were rather fed up, I suppose?"

"That's just the word. "

"Sorry it bored you. "

"It didn't. We didn't give it the chance to. "

Robinson laughed appreciatively. 

"What's the joke, Robinson?" asked Adair. 

"There's no joke, " said Robinson, with some haste. "I was only thinkingof something. "

"I'll give you something else to think about soon. "

Stone intervened. 

"It's no good making a row about it, Adair. You must see that you can'tdo anything. Of course, you can kick us out of the team, if you like, but we don't care if you do. Jackson will get us a game any Wednesday orSaturday for the village he plays for. So we're all right. And theschool team aren't such a lot of flyers that you can afford to gochucking people out of it whenever you want to. See what I mean?"

"You and Jackson seem to have fixed it all up between you. "

"What are you going to do? Kick us out?"

"No. "

"Good. I thought you'd see it was no good making a beastly row. We'llplay for the school all right. There's no earthly need for us to turnout for fielding practice before breakfast. "

"You don't think there is? You may be right. All the same, you're goingto tomorrow morning. "

"What!"

"Six sharp. Don't be late. "

"Don't be an ass, Adair. We've told you we aren't going to. "

"That's only your opinion. I think you are. I'll give you till five pastsix, as you seem to like lying in bed. "

"You can turn out if you feel like it. You won't find me there. "

"That'll be a disappointment. Nor Robinson?"

"No, " said the junior partner in the firm; but he said it without anydeep conviction. The atmosphere was growing a great deal too tense forhis comfort. 

"You've quite made up your minds?"

"Yes, " said Stone. 

"Right, " said Adair quietly, and knocked him down. 

He was up again in a moment. Adair had pushed the table back, and wasstanding in the middle of the open space. 

"You cad, " said Stone. "I wasn't ready. "

"Well, you are now. Shall we go on?"

Stone dashed in without a word, and for a few moments the two might haveseemed evenly matched to a not too intelligent spectator. But sciencetells, even in a confined space. Adair was smaller and lighter thanStone, but he was cooler and quicker, and he knew more about the game. His blow was always home a fraction of a second sooner than hisopponent's. At the end of a minute Stone was on the floor again. 

He got up slowly and stood leaning with one hand on the table. 

"Suppose we say ten past six!" said Adair. "I'm not particular to aminute or two. "

Stone made no reply. 

"Will ten past six suit you for fielding practice tomorrow?" said Adair. 

"All right, " said Stone. 

"Thanks. How about you, Robinson?"

Robinson had been a petrified spectator of the Captain-Kettle-likemaneuvers of the cricket captain, and it did not take him long to makeup his mind. He was not altogether a coward. In different circumstanceshe might have put up a respectable show. But it takes a more thanordinarily courageous person to embark on a fight which he knows mustend in his destruction. Robinson knew that he was nothing like a matcheven for Stone, and Adair had disposed of Stone in a little over oneminute. It seemed to Robinson that neither pleasure nor profit waslikely to come from an encounter with Adair. 

"All right, " he said hastily, "I'll turn up. "

"Good, " said Adair. "I wonder if either of you chaps could tell me whichis Jackson's study. "

Stone was dabbing at his mouth with a handkerchief, a task whichprecluded anything in the shape of conversation; so Robinson repliedthat Mike's study was the first you came to on the right of the corridorat the top of the stairs. 

"Thanks, " said Adair. "You don't happen to know if he's in, I suppose?"

"He went up with Smith a quarter of an hour ago. I don't know if he'sstill there. "

"I'll go and see, " said Adair. "I should like a word with him if heisn't busy. "

25

ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE

Mike, all unconscious of the stirring proceedings which had been goingon below stairs, was peacefully reading a letter he had received thatmorning from Strachan at Wrykyn, in which the successor to the cricketcaptaincy which should have been Mike's had a good deal to say in alugubrious strain. In Mike's absence things had been going badly withWrykyn. A broken arm, contracted in the course of some rash experimentswith a day boy's motor bicycle, had deprived the team of the services ofDunstable, the only man who had shown any signs of being able to bowl aside out. Since this calamity, wrote Strachan, everything had gonewrong. The M. C. C. , led by Mike's brother Reggie, the least of the threefirst-class cricketing Jacksons, had smashed them by a hundred and fiftyruns. Geddington had wiped them off the face of the earth. The Incogs, with a team recruited exclusively from the rabbit hutch--not awell-known man on the side except Stacey, a veteran who had been playingfor the club for nearly half a century--had got home by two wickets. Infact, it was Strachan's opinion that the Wrykyn team that summer wasabout the most hopeless gang of deadbeats that had ever made exhibitionof itself on the school grounds. The Ripton match, fortunately, was off, owing to an outbreak of mumps at that shrine of learning andathletics--the second outbreak of the malady in two terms. Which, saidStrachan, was hard lines on Ripton, but a bit of jolly good luck forWrykyn, as it had saved them from what would probably have been a recordhammering, Ripton having eight of their last year's team left, includingDixon, the fast bowler, against whom Mike alone of the Wrykyn team hadbeen able to make runs in the previous season. Altogether, Wrykyn hadstruck a bad patch. 

Mike mourned over his suffering school. If only he could have been thereto help. It might have made all the difference. In school cricket onegood batsman, to go in first and knock the bowlers off their length, maytake a weak team triumphantly through a season. In school cricket theimportance of a good start for the first wicket is incalculable. 

As he put Strachan's letter away in his pocket, all his old bitternessagainst Sedleigh, which had been ebbing during the past few days, returned with a rush. He was conscious once more of that feeling ofpersonal injury which had made him hate his new school on the firstday of term. 

And it was at this point, when his resentment was at its height, thatAdair, the concrete representative of everything Sedleighan, enteredthe room. 

There are moments in life's placid course when there has got to be thebiggest kind of row. This was one of them. 

Psmith, who was leaning against the mantelpiece, reading the serialstory in a daily paper which he had abstracted from the senior day room, made the intruder free of the study with a dignified wave of the hand, and went on reading. Mike remained in the deck chair in which he wassitting, and contented himself with glaring at the newcomer. 

Psmith was the first to speak. 

"If you ask my candid opinion, " he said, looking up from his paper, "Ishould say that young Lord Antony Trefusis was in the soup already. Iseem to see the consommé splashing about his ankles. He's had a notetelling him to be under the oak tree in the Park at midnight. He's justoff there at the end of this installment. I bet Long Jack, the poacher, is waiting there with a sandbag. Care to see the paper, Comrade Adair?Or don't you take any interest in contemporary literature?"

"Thanks, " said Adair. "I just wanted to speak to Jackson for a minute. "

"Fate, " said Psmith, "has led your footsteps to the right place. This isComrade Jackson, the Pride of the School, sitting before you. "

"What do you want?" said Mike. 

He suspected that Adair had come to ask him once again to play for theschool. The fact that the M. C. C. Match was on the following day madethis a probable solution of the reason for his visit. He could think ofno other errand that was likely to have set the head of Downing's payingafternoon calls. 

"I'll tell you in a minute. It won't take long. "

"That, " said Psmith approvingly, "is right. Speed is the keynote of thepresent age. Promptitude. Dispatch. This is no time for loitering. Wemust be strenuous. We must hustle. We must Do It Now. We--"

"Buck up, " said Mike. 

"Certainly, " said Adair. "I've just been talking to Stone and Robinson. "

"An excellent way of passing an idle half hour, " said Psmith. 

"We weren't exactly idle, " said Adair grimly. "It didn't last long, butit was pretty lively while it did. Stone chucked it after thefirst round. "

Mike got up out of his chair. He could not quite follow what all thiswas about, but there was no mistaking the truculence of Adair's manner. For some reason, which might possibly be made clear later, Adair waslooking for trouble, and Mike in his present mood felt that it would bea privilege to see that he got it. 

Psmith was regarding Adair through his eyeglass with pain and surprise. 

"Surely, " he said, "you do not mean us to understand that you have been_brawling_ with Comrade Stone! This is bad hearing. I thought that youand he were like brothers. Such a bad example for Comrade Robinson, too. Leave us, Adair. We would brood. 'Oh, go thee, knave, I'll none ofthee. ' Shakespeare. "

Psmith turned away, and resting his elbows on the mantelpiece, gazed athimself mournfully in the looking glass. 

"I'm not the man I was, " he sighed, after a prolonged inspection. "Thereare lines on my face, dark circles beneath my eyes. The fierce rush oflife at Sedleigh is wasting me away. "

"Stone and I had a discussion about early-morning fielding practice, "said Adair, turning to Mike. 

Mike said nothing. 

"I thought his fielding wanted working up a bit, so I told him to turnout at six tomorrow morning. He said he wouldn't, so we argued it out. He's going to all right. So is Robinson. "

Mike remained silent. 

"So are you, " said Adair. 

"I get thinner and thinner, " said Psmith from the mantelpiece. 

Mike looked at Adair, and Adair looked at Mike, after the manner of twodogs before they fly at one another. There was an electric silence inthe study. Psmith peered with increased earnestness into the glass. 

"Oh?" said Mike at last. "What makes you think that?"

"I don't think. I know. "

"Any special reason for my turning out?"

"Yes. "

"What's that?"

"You're going to play for the school against the M. C. C. Tomorrow, and Iwant you to get some practice. "

"I wonder how you got that idea!"

"Curious I should have done, isn't it?"

"Very. You aren't building on it much, are you?" said Mike politely. 

"I am, rather, " replied Adair, with equal courtesy. 

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. "

"I don't think so. "

"My eyes, " said Psmith regretfully, "are a bit close together. However, "he added philosophically, "it's too late to alter that now. "

Mike drew a step closer to Adair. 

"What makes you think I shall play against the M. C. C. ?" he askedcuriously. 

"I'm going to make you. "

Mike took another step forward. Adair moved to meet him. 

"Would you care to try now?" said Mike. 

For just one second the two drew themselves together preparatory tobeginning the serious business of the interview, and in that secondPsmith, turning from the glass, stepped between them. 

"Get out of the light, Smith, " said Mike. 

Psmith waved him back with a deprecating gesture. 

"My dear young friends, " he said placidly, "if you _will_ let your angrypassions rise, against the direct advice of Doctor Watts, I suppose youmust. But when you propose to claw each other in my study, in the midstof a hundred fragile and priceless ornaments, I lodge a protest. If youreally feel that you want to scrap, for goodness' sake do it wherethere's some room. I don't want all the study furniture smashed. I knowa bank whereon the wild thyme grows, only a few yards down the road, where you can scrap all night if you want to. How would it be to move onthere? Any objections? None. Then shift ho! And let's get it over. "

26

CLEARING THE AIR

Psmith was one of those people who lend a dignity to everything theytouch. Under his auspices the most unpromising ventures became somehowenveloped in an atmosphere of measured stateliness. On the presentoccasion, what would have been, without his guiding hand, a mereunscientific scramble, took on something of the impressive formality ofthe National Sporting Club. 

"The rounds, " he said, producing a watch, as they passed through a gateinto a field a couple of hundred yards from the house gate, "will be ofthree minutes' duration, with a minute rest in between. A man who isdown will have ten seconds in which to rise. Are you ready, ComradesAdair and Jackson? Very well, then. Time. "

After which, it was a pity that the actual fight did not quite live upto its referee's introduction. Dramatically, there should have beencautious sparring for openings and a number of tensely contested rounds, as if it had been the final of a boxing competition. But school fights, when they do occur--which is only once in a decade nowadays, unless youcount junior school scuffles--are the outcome of weeks of suppressed badblood, and are consequently brief and furious. In a boxing competition, however much one may want to win, one does not dislike one's opponent. Up to the moment when "time" was called, one was probably warmlyattached to him, and at the end of the last round one expects to resumethat attitude of mind. In a fight each party, as a rule, hatesthe other. 

So it happened that there was nothing formal or cautious about thepresent battle. All Adair wanted was to get at Mike, and all Mike wantedwas to get at Adair. Directly Psmith called "time, " they rushed togetheras if they meant to end the thing in half a minute. 

It was this that saved Mike. In an ordinary contest with the gloves, with his opponent cool and boxing in his true form, he could not havelasted three rounds against Adair. The latter was a clever boxer, whileMike had never had a lesson in his life. If Adair had kept away and usedhis head, nothing could have prevented his winning. 

As it was, however, he threw away his advantages, much as Tom Brown didat the beginning of his fight with Slogger Williams, and the result wasthe same as on that historic occasion. Mike had the greater strength, and, thirty seconds from the start, knocked his man clean off his feetwith an unscientific but powerful righthander. 

This finished Adair's chances. He rose full of fight, but with all thescience knocked out of him. He went in at Mike with both hands. TheIrish blood in him, which for the ordinary events of life made himmerely energetic and dashing, now rendered him reckless. He abandonedall attempt at guarding. It was the Frontal Attack in its most futileform, and as unsuccessful as a frontal attack is apt to be. There was aswift exchange of blows, in the course of which Mike's left elbow, coming into contact with his opponent's right fist, got a shock whichkept it tingling for the rest of the day; and then Adair went down ina heap. 

He got up slowly and with difficulty. For a moment he stood blinkingvaguely. Then he lurched forward at Mike. 

In the excitement of a fight--which is, after all, about the mostexciting thing that ever happens to one in the course of one's life--itis difficult for the fighters to see what the spectators see. Where thespectators see an assault on an already beaten man, the fighter himselfonly sees a legitimate piece of self-defense against an opponent whosechances are equal to his own. Psmith saw, as anybody looking on wouldhave seen, that Adair was done. Mike's blow had taken him within afraction of an inch of the point of the jaw, and he was all but knockedout. Mike could not see this. All he understood was that his man was onhis feet again and coming at him, so he hit out with all his strength;and this time Adair went down and stayed down. 

"Brief, " said Psmith, coming forward, "but exciting. We may take that, Ithink, to be the conclusion of the entertainment. I will now have a dashat picking up the slain. I shouldn't stop, if I were you. He'll besitting up and taking notice soon, and if he sees you he may want to goon with the combat, which would do him no earthly good. If it's going tobe continued in our next, there had better be a bit of an interval foralterations and repairs first. "

"Is he hurt much, do you think?" asked Mike. He had seen knockoutsbefore in the ring, but this was the first time he had ever effected oneon his own account, and Adair looked unpleasantly corpselike. 

"_He's_ all right, " said Psmith. "In a minute or two he'll be skippingabout like a little lambkin. I'll look after him. You go away andpick flowers. "

Mike put on his coat and walked back to the house. He was conscious of aperplexing whirl of new and strange emotions, chief among which was acurious feeling that he rather liked Adair. He found himself thinkingthat Adair was a good chap, that there was something to be said for hispoint of view, and that it was a pity he had knocked him about so much. At the same time, he felt an undeniable thrill of pride at having beatenhim. The feat presented that interesting person, Mike Jackson, to him ina fresh and pleasing light, as one who had had a tough job to face andhad carried it through. Jackson the cricketer he knew, but Jackson thedeliverer of knockout blows was strange to him, and he found this newacquaintance a man to be respected. 

The fight, in fact, had the result which most fights have, if they arefought fairly and until one side has had enough. It revolutionizedMike's view of things. It shook him up, and drained the bad blood out ofhim. Where before he had seemed to himself to be acting with massivedignity, he now saw that he had simply been sulking like some wretchedkid. There had appeared to him something rather fine in his policy ofrefusing to identify himself in any way with Sedleigh, a touch of thestone-walls-do-not-a-prison-make sort of thing. He now saw that hisattitude was to be summed up in the words, "Sha'n't play. "

It came upon Mike with painful clearness that he had been making an assof himself. 

He had come to this conclusion, after much earnest thought, when Psmithentered the study. 

"How's Adair?" asked Mike. 

"Sitting up and taking nourishment once more. We have been chatting. He's not a bad cove. "

"He's all right, " said Mike. 

There was a pause. Psmith straightened his tie. 

"Look here, " he said, "I seldom interfere in terrestrial strife, but itseems to me that there's an opening here for a capable peacemaker, notafraid of work, and willing to give his services in exchange for acomfortable home. Comrade Adair's rather a stoutish fellow in his way. I'm not much on the 'Play up for the old school, Jones, ' game, buteveryone to his taste. I shouldn't have thought anybody would getoverwhelmingly attached to this abode of wrath, but Comrade Adair seemsto have done it. He's all for giving Sedleigh a much-needed boost-up. It's not a bad idea in its way. I don't see why one shouldn't humor him. Apparently he's been sweating since early childhood to buck the schoolup. And as he's leaving at the end of the term, it mightn't be a scalyscheme to give him a bit of a send-off, if possible, by making thecricket season a bit of a banger. As a start, why not drop him a line tosay that you'll play against the M. C. C. Tomorrow?"

Mike did not reply at once. He was feeling better disposed toward Adairand Sedleigh then he had felt, but he was not sure that he was quiteprepared to go as far as a complete climb-down. 

"It wouldn't be a bad idea, " continued Psmith. "There's nothing likegiving in to a man a bit every now and then. It broadens the soul andimproves the action of the skin. What seems to have fed up ComradeAdair, to a certain extent, is that Stone apparently led him tounderstand that you had offered to give him and Robinson places in yourvillage team. You didn't, of course?"

"Of course not, " said Mike indignantly. 

"I told him he didn't know the old _noblesse oblige_ spirit of theJacksons. I said that you would scorn to tarnish the Jackson escutcheonby not playing the game. My eloquence convinced him. However, to returnto the point under discussion, why not?"

"I don't ... What I mean to say ... " began Mike. 

"If your trouble is, " said Psmith, "that you fear that you may be inunworthy company--"

"Don't be an ass. "

"--Dismiss it. _I_ am playing. "

Mike stared. 

"You're _what? You_?"

"I, " said Psmith, breathing on a coat button, and polishing it with hishandkerchief. 

"Can you play cricket?"

"You have discovered, " said Psmith, "my secret sorrow. "

"You're rotting. "

"You wrong me, Comrade Jackson. "

"Then why haven't you played?"

"Why haven't you?"

"Why didn't you come and play for Lower Borlock, I mean?"

"The last time I played in a village cricket match I was caught at pointby a man in braces. It would have been madness to risk another suchshock to my system. My nerves are so exquisitely balanced that a thingof that sort takes years off my life. "

"No, but look here, Smith, bar rotting. Are you really any good atcricket?"

"Competent judges at Eton gave me to understand so. I was told that thisyear I should be a certainty for Lord's. But when the cricket seasoncame, where was I? Gone. Gone like some beautiful flower that withers inthe night. "

"But you told me you didn't like cricket. You said you only likedwatching it. "

"Quite right. I do. But at schools where cricket is compulsory you haveto overcome your private prejudices. And in time the thing becomes ahabit. Imagine my feelings when I found that I was degenerating, littleby little, into a slow left-hand bowler with a swerve. I fought againstit, but it was useless, and after a while I gave up the struggle, anddrifted with the stream. Last year in a house match"--Psmith's voicetook on a deeper tone of melancholy--"I took seven for thirteen in thesecond innings on a hard wicket. I did think, when I came here, that Ihad found a haven of rest, but it was not to be. I turn out tomorrow. What Comrade Outwood will say, when he finds that his keenestarchaeological disciple has deserted, I hate to think. However ... "

Mike felt as if a young and powerful earthquake had passed. The wholeface of his world had undergone a quick change. Here was he, therecalcitrant, wavering on the point of playing for the school, and herewas Psmith, the last person whom he would have expected to be a player, stating calmly that he had been in the running for a place in theEton eleven. 

Then in a flash Mike understood. He was not by nature intuitive, but heread Psmith's mind now. Since the term began, he and Psmith had beenacting on precisely similar motives. Just as he had been disappointed ofthe captaincy of cricket at Wrykyn, so had Psmith been disappointed ofhis place in the Eton team at Lord's. And they had both worked it off, each in his own way--Mike sullenly, Psmith whimsically, according totheir respective natures--on Sedleigh. 

If Psmith, therefore, did not consider it too much of a climb-down torenounce his resolution not to play for Sedleigh, there was nothing tostop Mike doing so, as--at the bottom of his heart--he wanted to do. 

"By Jove, " he said, "if you're playing, I'll play. I'll write a note toAdair now. But, I say"--he stopped--"I'm hanged if I'm going to turn outand field before breakfast tomorrow. "

"That's all right. You won't have to. Adair won't be there himself. He'snot playing against the M. C. C. He's sprained his wrist. "

27

IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED

"Sprained his wrist?" said Mike. "How did he do that?"

"During the brawl. Apparently one of his efforts got home on your elbowinstead of your expressive countenance, and whether it was that yourelbow was particularly tough or his wrist particularly fragile, I don'tknow. Anyhow, it went. It's nothing bad, but it'll keep him out of thegame tomorrow. "

"I say, what beastly rough luck! I'd no idea. I'll go around. "

"Not a bad scheme. Close the door gently after you, and if you seeanybody downstairs who looks as if he were likely to be going over tothe shop, ask him to get me a small pot of some rare old jam and tellthe man to chalk it up to me. The jam Comrade Outwood supplies to us attea is all right as a practical joke or as a food for those anxious tocommit suicide, but useless to anybody who values life. "

On arriving at Mr. Downing's and going to Adair's study, Mike found thathis late antagonist was out. He left a note informing him of hiswillingness to play in the morrow's match. The lock-up bell rang as hewent out of the house. 

A spot of rain fell on his hand. A moment later there was a continuouspatter, as the storm, which had been gathering all day, broke inearnest. Mike turned up his coat collar, and ran back to Outwood's. "Atthis rate, " he said to himself, "there won't be a match at alltomorrow. "

 * * * * *

When the weather decides, after behaving well for some weeks, to showwhat it can do in another direction, it does the thing thoroughly. WhenMike woke the next morning the world was gray and dripping. Leaden-colored clouds drifted over the sky, till there was not a traceof blue to be seen, and then the rain began again, in the gentle, determined way rain has when it means to make a day of it. 

It was one of those bad days when one sits in the pavilion, damp anddepressed, while figures in mackintoshes, with discolored buckskinboots, crawl miserably about the field in couples. 

Mike, shuffling across to school in a Burberry, met Adair at Downing'sgate. 

These moments are always difficult. Mike stopped--he could hardly walkon as if nothing had happened--and looked down at his feet. 

"Coming across?" he said awkwardly. 

"Right ho!" said Adair. 

They walked on in silence. 

"It's only about ten to, isn't it?" said Mike. 

Adair fished out his watch, and examined it with an elaborate care bornof nervousness. 

"About nine to. "

"Good. We've got plenty of time. "

"Yes. "

"I hate having to hurry over to school. "

"So do I. "

"I often do cut it rather fine, though. "

"Yes. So do I. "

"Beastly nuisance when one does. "

"Beastly. "

"It's only about a couple of minutes from the houses to the school, Ishould think, shouldn't you?"

"Not much more. Might be three. "

"Yes. Three if one didn't hurry. "

Another silence. 

"Beastly day, " said Adair. 

"Rotten. "

Silence again. 

"I say, " said Mike, scowling at his toes, "awfully sorry about yourwrist. "

"Oh, that's all right. It was my fault. "

"Does it hurt?"

"Oh, no, rather not, thanks. "

"I'd no idea you'd crocked yourself. "

"Oh, no, that's all right. It was only right at the end. You'd havesmashed me anyhow. "

"Oh, rot. "

"I bet you anything you like you would. "

"I bet you I shouldn't.... Jolly hard luck, just before the match. "

"Oh, no.... I say, thanks awfully for saying you'd play. "

"Oh, rot.... Do you think we shall get a game?"

Adair inspected the sky carefully. 

"I don't know. It looks pretty bad, doesn't it?"

"Rotten. I say, how long will your wrist keep you out of cricket?"

"Be all right in a week. Less, probably. "

"Good. "

"Now that you and Smith are going to play, we ought to have a jolly goodseason. "

"Rummy, Smith turning out to be a cricketer. "

"Yes. I should think he'd be a hot bowler, with his height. "

"He must be jolly good if he was only just out of the Eton team lastyear. "

"Yes. "

"What's the time?" asked Mike. 

Adair produced his watch once more. 

"Five to. "

"We've heaps of time. "

"Yes, heaps. "

"Let's stroll on a bit down the road, shall we?"

"Right ho!"

Mike cleared his throat. 

"I say. "

"Hello?"

"I've been talking to Smith. He was telling me that you thought I'dpromised to give Stone and Robinson places in the--"

"Oh, no, that's all right. It was only for a bit. Smith told me youcouldn't have done, and I saw that I was an ass to think you could have. It was Stone seeming so dead certain that he could play for LowerBorlock if I chucked him from the school team that gave me the idea. "

"He never even asked me to get him a place. "

"No, I know. "

"Of course, I wouldn't have done it, even if he had. "

"Of course not. "

"I didn't want to play myself, but I wasn't going to do a rotten tricklike getting other fellows away from the team. "

"No, I know. "

"It was rotten enough, really, not playing myself. "

"Oh, no. Beastly rough luck having to leave Wrykyn just when you weregoing to be captain, and come to a small school like this. "

The excitement of the past few days must have had a stimulating effecton Mike's mind--shaken it up, as it were, for now, for the second timein two days, he displayed quite a creditable amount of intuition. Hemight have been misled by Adair's apparently deprecatory attitude towardSedleigh, and blundered into a denunciation of the place. Adair hadsaid, "a small school like this" in the sort of voice which might haveled his hearer to think that he was expected to say, "Yes, rotten littlehole, isn't it?" or words to that effect. Mike, fortunately, perceivedthat the words were used purely from politeness, on the Chineseprinciple. When a Chinese man wishes to pay a compliment, he does so bybelittling himself and his belongings. 

He eluded the pitfall. 

"What rot!" he said. "Sedleigh's one of the most sporting schools I'veever come across. Everybody's as keen as blazes. So they ought to be, after the way you've sweated. "

Adair shuffled awkwardly. 

"I've always been fairly keen on the place, " he said. "But I don'tsuppose I've done anything much. "

"You've loosened one of my front teeth, " said Mike, with a grin, "ifthat's any comfort to you. "

"I couldn't eat anything except porridge this morning. My jaw stillaches. "

For the first time during the conversation their eyes met, and thehumorous side of the thing struck them simultaneously. They beganto laugh. 

"What fools we must have looked, " said Adair. 

"_You_ were all right. I must have looked rotten. I've never had thegloves on in my life. I'm jolly glad no one saw us except Smith, whodoesn't count. Hello, there's the bell. We'd better be moving on. Whatabout this match? Not much chance of it from the look of the skyat present. "

"It might clear before eleven. You'd better get changed, anyhow, at theinterval, and hang about in case. "

"All right. It's better than doing Thucydides with Downing. We've gotmath till the interval, so I don't see anything of him all day; whichwon't hurt me. "

"He isn't a bad sort of chap, when you get to know him, " said Adair. 

"I can't have done, then. I don't know which I'd least soon be, Downingor a black beetle, except that if one was Downing one could tread on theblack beetle. Dash this rain. I got about half a pint down my neck justthen. We shan't get a game today, or anything like it. As you'recrocked, I'm not sure that I care much. You've been sweating for yearsto get the match on, and it would be rather rot playing it without you. "

"I don't know that so much. I wish we could play because I'm certain, with you and Smith, we'd walk into them. They probably aren't sendingdown much of a team, and really, now that you and Smith are turning out, we've got a jolly hot lot. There's quite decent batting all the waythrough, and the bowling isn't so bad. If only we could have given thisM. C. C. Lot a really good hammering, it might have been easier to getsome good fixtures for next season. You see, it's all right for a schoollike Wrykyn, but with a small place like this you simply can't get thebest teams to give you a match till you've done something to show thatyou aren't absolute rotters at the game. As for the schools, they'reworse. They'd simply laugh at you. You were cricket secretary at Wrykynlast year. What would you have done if you'd had a challenge fromSedleigh? You'd either have laughed till you were sick, or else had afit at the mere idea of the thing. "

Mike stopped. 

"By Jove, you've struck about the brightest scheme on record. I neverthought of it before. Let's get a match on with Wrykyn. "

"What! They wouldn't play us. "

"Yes, they would. At least, I'm pretty sure they would. I had a letterfrom Strachan, the captain, yesterday, saying that the Ripton match hadhad to be scratched owing to illness. So they've got a vacant date. Shall I try them? I'll write to Strachan tonight, if you like. And theyaren't strong this year. We'll smash them. What do you say?"

Adair was as one who has seen a vision. 

"By Jove, " he said at last, "if we only could!"

28

MR. DOWNING MOVES

The rain continued without a break all the morning. The two teams, afterhanging about dismally, and whiling the time away with stump-cricket inthe changing rooms, lunched in the pavilion at one o'clock. After whichthe M. C. C. Captain, approaching Adair, moved that this merry meeting beconsidered off and he and his men permitted to catch the next train backto town. To which Adair, seeing that it was out of the question thatthere should be any cricket that afternoon, regretfully agreed, and thefirst Sedleigh _v_. M. C. C. Match was accordingly scratched. 

Mike and Psmith, wandering back to the house, were met by a damp juniorfrom Downing's, with a message that Mr. Downing wished to see Mike assoon as he was changed. 

"What's he want me for?" inquired Mike. 

The messenger did not know. Mr. Downing, it seemed, had not confided inhim. All he knew was that the housemaster was in the house, and would beglad if Mike would step across. 

"A nuisance, " said Psmith, "this incessant demand for you. That's theworst of being popular. If he wants you to stop to tea, edge away. Ameal on rather a sumptuous scale will be prepared in the study againstyour return. "

Mike changed quickly, and went off, leaving Psmith, who was fond ofsimple pleasures in his spare time, earnestly occupied with a puzzlewhich had been scattered through the land by a weekly paper. The prizefor a solution was one thousand pounds, and Psmith had already informedMike with some minuteness of his plans for the disposition of this sum. Meanwhile, he worked at it both in and out of school, generally withabusive comments on its inventor. 

He was still fiddling away at it when Mike returned. 

Mike, though Psmith was at first too absorbed to notice it, wasagitated. 

"I don't wish to be in any way harsh, " said Psmith, without looking up, "but the man who invented this thing was a blighter of the worst type. You come and have a shot. For the moment I am baffled. The whisper fliesround the clubs, 'Psmith is baffled. '"

"The man's an absolute driveling ass, " said Mike warmly. 

"Me, do you mean?"

"What on earth would be the point of my doing it?"

"You'd gather in a thousand of the best. Give you a nice start in life. "

"I'm not talking about your rotten puzzle. "

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"That ass Downing. I believe he's off his nut. "

"Then your chat with Comrade Downing was not of theold-College-chums-meeting-unexpectedly-after-years'-separation type?What has he been doing to you?"

"He's off his nut. "

"I know. But what did he do? How did the brainstorm burst? Did he jumpat you from behind a door and bite a piece out of your leg, or did hesay he was a teapot?"

Mike sat down. 

"You remember that painting-Sammy business?"

"As if it were yesterday, " said Psmith. "Which it was, pretty nearly. "

"He thinks I did it. "

"Why? Have you ever shown any talent in the painting line?"

"The silly ass wanted me to confess that I'd done it. He as good asasked me to. Jawed a lot of rot about my finding it to my advantagelater on if I behaved sensibly. "

"Then what are you worrying about? Don't you know that when a masterwants you to do the confessing act, it simply means that he hasn'tenough evidence to start in on you with? You're all right. The thing's astand-off. "

"Evidence!" said Mike. "My dear man, he's got enough evidence to sink aship. He's absolutely sweating evidence at every pore. As far as I cansee, he's been crawling about, doing the Sherlock Holmes business forall he's worth ever since the thing happened, and now he's dead certainthat I painted Sammy. "

"_Did_ you, by the way?" said Psmith. 

"No, " said Mike shortly, "I didn't. But after listening to Downing Ialmost began to wonder if I hadn't. The man's got stacks of evidence toprove that I did. "

"Such as what?"

"It's mostly about my shoes. But, dash it, you know all about that. Why, you were with him when he came and looked for them. "

"It is true, " said Psmith, "that Comrade Downing and I spent a verypleasant half hour together inspecting shoes, but how does he dragyou into it?"

"He swears one of the shoes was splashed with paint. "

"Yes. He babbled to some extent on that point when I was entertaininghim. But what makes him think that the shoe, if any, was yours?"

"He's certain that somebody in this house got one of his shoes splashed, and is hiding it somewhere. And I'm the only chap in the house whohasn't got a pair of shoes to show, so he thinks it's me. I don't knowwhere the dickens my other shoe has gone. Of course I've got two pairs, but one's being soled. So I had to go over to school yesterday in gymshoes. That's how he spotted me. "

Psmith sighed. 

"Comrade Jackson, " he said mournfully, "all this very sad affair showsthe folly of acting from the best motives. In my simple zeal, meaning tosave you unpleasantness, I have landed you, with a dull, sickening thud, right in the cart. Are you particular about dirtying your hands? If youaren't, just reach up that chimney a bit!"

Mike stared. 

"What the dickens are you talking about?"

"Go on. Get it over. Be a man, and reach up the chimney. "

"I don't know what the game is, " said Mike, kneeling beside the fenderand groping, "but--_Hello_!"

"Ah ha!" said Psmith moodily. 

Mike dropped the soot-covered object in the fender, and glared at it. 

"It's my shoe!" he said at last. 

"It _is_, " said Psmith, "your shoe. And what is that red stain acrossthe toe? Is it blood? No, 'tis not blood. It is red paint. "

Mike seemed unable to remove his eyes from the shoe. 

"How on earth did--By Jove! I remember now. I kicked up againstsomething in the dark when I was putting my bicycle back that night. Itmust have been the paint pot. "

"Then you were out that night?"

"Rather. That's what makes it so jolly awkward. It's too long to tellyou now--"

"Your stories are never too long for me, " said Psmith. "Say on!"

"Well, it was like this. " And Mike related the events which had led upto his midnight excursion. Psmith listened attentively. 

"This, " he said, when Mike had finished, "confirms my frequently statedopinion that Comrade Jellicoe is one of Nature's blitherers. So that'swhy he touched us for our hard-earned, was it?"

"Yes. Of course there was no need for him to have the money at all. "

"And the result is that you are in something of a tight place. You're_absolutely_ certain you didn't paint that dog? Didn't do it, by anychance, in a moment of absent-mindedness, and forgot all about it? No?No, I suppose not. I wonder who did!"

"It's beastly awkward. You see, Downing chased me that night. That waswhy I rang the alarm bell. So, you see, he's certain to think that thechap he chased, which was me, and the chap who painted Sammy, are thesame. I shall get landed both ways. "

Psmith pondered. 

"It _is_ a tightish place, " he admitted. 

"I wonder if we could get this shoe clean, " said Mike, inspecting itwith disfavor. 

"Not for a pretty considerable time. "

"I suppose not. I say, I _am_ in the cart. If I can't produce this shoe, they're bound to guess why. "

"What exactly, " asked Psmith, "was the position of affairs between youand Comrade Downing when you left him? Had you definitely parted brassrags? Or did you simply sort of drift apart with mutual courtesies?"

"Oh, he said I was ill advised to continue that attitude, or some rot, and I said I didn't care, I hadn't painted his bally dog, and he saidvery well, then, he must take steps, and--well, that was about all. "

"Sufficient, too, " said Psmith, "quite sufficient, I take it, then, thathe is now on the warpath, collecting a gang, so to speak. "

"I suppose he's gone to the Old Man about it. "

"Probably. A very worrying time our headmaster is having, taking it allround, in connection with this painful affair. What do you think hismove will be?"

"I suppose he'll send for me, and try to get something out of me. "

"_He'll_ want you to confess, too. Masters are all whales on confession. The worst of it is, you can't prove an alibi, because at about the timethe foul act was perpetrated, you were playing Round-and-round-the-mulberry-bush with Comrade Downing. This needs thought. You hadbetter put the case in my hands, and go out and watch the dandelionsgrowing. I will think over the matter. "

"Well, I hope you'll be able to think of something. I can't. "

"Possibly. You never know. "

There was a tap at the door. 

"See how we have trained them, " said Psmith. "They now knock beforeentering. There was a time when they would have tried to smash in apanel. Come in. "

A small boy, carrying a straw hat adorned with the School House ribbon, answered the invitation. 

"Oh, I say, Jackson, " he said, "the headmaster sent me over to tell youhe wants to see you. "

"I told you so, " said Mike to Psmith. 

"Don't go, " suggested Psmith. "Tell him to write. "

Mike got up. 

"All this is very trying, " said Psmith. "I'm seeing nothing of youtoday. " He turned to the small boy. "Tell Willie, " he added, "that Mr. Jackson will be with him in a moment. "

The emissary departed. 

"_You're_ all right, " said Psmith encouragingly. "Just you keep onsaying you're all right. Stout denial is the thing. Don't go in for anyairy explanations. Simply stick to stout denial. You can't beat it. "

With which expert advice, he allowed Mike to go on his way. 

He had not been gone two minutes, when Psmith, who had leaned back inhis chair, rapt in thought, heaved himself up again. He stood for amoment straightening his tie at the looking glass; then he picked up hishat and moved slowly out of the door and down the passage. Thence, atthe same dignified rate of progress, out of the house and in atDowning's front gate. 

The postman was at the door when he got there, apparently absorbed inconversation with the parlor maid. Psmith stood by politely till thepostman, who had just been told it was like his impudence, caught sightof him, and, having handed over the letters in an ultraformal andprofessional manner, passed away. 

"Is Mr. Downing at home?" inquired Psmith. 

He was, it seemed. Psmith was shown into the dining room on the left ofthe hall, and requested to wait. He was examining a portrait of Mr. Downing which hung on the wall when the housemaster came in. 

"An excellent likeness, sir, " said Psmith, with a gesture of the handtoward the painting. 

"Well, Smith, " said Mr. Downing shortly, "what do you wish to see meabout?"

"It was in connection with the regrettable painting of your dog, sir. "

"Ha!" said Mr. Downing. 

"I did it, sir, " said Psmith, stopping and flicking a piece of fluff offhis knee. 

29

THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK

The line of action which Psmith had called Stout Denial is an excellentline to adopt, especially if you really are innocent, but it does notlead to anything in the shape of a bright and snappy dialogue betweenaccuser and accused. Both Mike and the headmaster were oppressed by afeeling that the situation was difficult. The atmosphere was heavy, andconversation showed a tendency to flag. The headmaster had openedbrightly enough, with a summary of the evidence which Mr. Downing hadlaid before him, but after that a massive silence had been the order ofthe day. There is nothing in this world quite so stolid anduncommunicative as a boy who has made up his mind to be stolid anduncommunicative; and the headmaster, as he sat and looked at Mike, whosat and looked past him at the bookshelves, felt awkward. It was a scenewhich needed either a dramatic interruption or a neat exit speech. As ithappened, what it got was the dramatic interruption. 

The headmaster was just saying, "I do not think you fully realize, Jackson, the extent to which appearances ... "--which was practicallygoing back to the beginning and starting again--when there was a knockat the door. A voice without said, "Mr. Downing to see you, sir, " andthe chief witness for the prosecution burst in. 

"I would not have interrupted you, " said Mr. Downing, "but--"

"Not at all, Mr. Downing. Is there anything I can ... "

"I have discovered ... I have been informed ... In short, it was notJackson, who committed the--who painted my dog. "

Mike and the headmaster both looked at the speaker. Mike with a feelingof relief--for Stout Denial, unsupported by any weighty evidence, is awearing game to play--the headmaster with astonishment. 

"Not Jackson?" said the headmaster. 

"No. It was a boy in the same house. Smith. "

Psmith! Mike was more than surprised. He could not believe it. There isnothing which affords so clear an index to a boy's character as the typeof rag which he considers humorous. Between what is a rag and what ismerely a rotten trick there is a very definite line drawn. Masters, as arule, do not realize this, but boys nearly always do. Mike could notimagine Psmith doing a rotten thing like covering a housemaster's dogwith red paint, any more than he could imagine doing it himself. Theyhad both been amused at the sight of Sammy after the operation, butanybody, except possibly the owner of the dog, would have thought itfunny at first. After the first surprise, their feeling had been that itwas a rotten thing to have done and beastly rough luck on the poorbrute. It was a kid's trick. As for Psmith having done it, Mike simplydid not believe it. 

"Smith!" said the headmaster. "What makes you think that?"

"Simply this, " said Mr. Downing, with calm triumph, "that the boyhimself came to me a few moments ago and confessed. "

Mike was conscious of a feeling of acute depression. It did not make himin the least degree jubilant, or even thankful, to know that he himselfwas cleared of the charge. All he could think of was that Psmith wasdone for. This was bound to mean the sack. If Psmith had painted Sammyit meant that Psmith had broken out of his house at night; and it wasnot likely that the rules about nocturnal wandering were less strict atSedleigh than at any other school in the kingdom. Mike felt, ifpossible, worse than he had felt when Wyatt had been caught on a similaroccasion. It seemed as if Fate had a special grudge against his bestfriends. He did not make friends very quickly or easily, though he hadalways had scores of acquaintances--and with Wyatt and Psmith he hadfound himself at home from the first moment he had met them. 

He sat there, with a curious feeling of having swallowed a heavy weight, hardly listening to what Mr. Downing was saying. Mr. Downing was talkingrapidly to the headmaster, who was nodding from time to time. 

Mike took advantage of a pause to get up. "May I go, sir?" he said. 

"Certainly, Jackson, certainly, " said the Head. "Oh, and er--if you aregoing back to your house, tell Smith that I should like to see him. "

"Yes, sir. "

He had reached the door, when again there was a knock. 

"Come in, " said the headmaster. 

It was Adair. 

"Yes, Adair?"

Adair was breathing rather heavily, as if he had been running. 

"It was about Sammy--Sampson, sir, " he said, looking at Mr. Downing. 

"Ah, we know ... Well, Adair, what did you wish to say?"

"It wasn't Jackson who did it, sir. "

"No, no, Adair. So Mr. Downing--"

"It was Dunster, sir. "

Terrific sensation! The headmaster gave a sort of strangled yelp ofastonishment. Mr. Downing leaped in his chair. Mike's eyes opened totheir fullest extent. 

"Adair!"

There was almost a wail in the headmaster's voice. The situation hadsuddenly become too much for him. His brain was swimming. That Mike, despite the evidence against him, should be innocent, was curious, perhaps, but not particularly startling. But that Adair should informhim, two minutes after Mr. Downing's announcement of Psmith'sconfession, that Psmith, too, was guiltless, and that the real criminalwas Dunster--it was this that made him feel that somebody, in the wordsof an American author, had played a mean trick on him, and substitutedfor his brain a side order of cauliflower. Why Dunster, of all people?Dunster, who, he remembered dizzily, had left the school at Christmas. And why, if Dunster had really painted the dog, had Psmith asserted thathe himself was the culprit? Why--why anything? He concentrated his mindon Adair as the only person who could save him from impendingbrain fever. 

"Adair!"

"Yes, sir?"

"What--_what_ do you mean?"

"It _was_ Dunster, sir. I got a letter from him only five minutes ago, in which he said that he had painted Sammy--Sampson, the dog, sir, for arag--for a joke, and that, as he didn't want anyone here to get into arow--be punished for it, I'd better tell Mr. Downing at once. I tried tofind Mr. Downing, but he wasn't in the house. Then I met Smith outsidethe house, and he told me that Mr. Downing had gone over to seeyou, sir. "

"Smith told you?" said Mr. Downing. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Did you say anything to him about your having received this letter fromDunster?"

"I gave him the letter to read, sir. "

"And what was his attitude when he had read it?"

"He laughed, sir. "

"_Laughed_!" Mr. Downing's voice was thunderous. 

"Yes, sir. He rolled about. "

Mr. Downing snorted. 

"But Adair, " said the headmaster, "I do not understand how this thingcould have been done by Dunster. He has left the school. "

"He was down here for the Old Sedleighans' match, sir. He stopped thenight in the village. "

"And that was the night the--it happened?"

"Yes, sir. "

"I see. Well, I am glad to find that the blame can not be attached toany boy in the school. I am sorry that it is even an Old Boy. It was afoolish, discreditable thing to have done, but it is not as bad as ifany boy still at the school had broken out of his house at night todo it. "

"The sergeant, " said Mr. Downing, "told me that the boy he saw wasattempting to enter Mr. Outwood's house. "

"Another freak of Dunster's, I suppose, " said the headmaster. "I shallwrite to him. "

"If it was really Dunster who painted my dog, " said Mr. Downing, "Icannot understand the part played by Smith in this affair. If he did notdo it, what possible motive could he have had for coming to me of hisown accord and deliberately confessing?"

"To be sure, " said the headmaster, pressing a bell. "It is certainly athing that calls for explanation. Barlow, " he said, as the butlerappeared, "kindly go across to Mr. Outwood's house and inform Smith thatI should like to see him. "

"If you please, sir, Mr. Smith is waiting in the hall. "

"In the hall!"

"Yes, sir. He arrived soon after Mr. Adair, sir, saying that he wouldwait, as you would probably wish to see him shortly. "

"H'm. Ask him to step up, Barlow. "

"Yes, sir. "

There followed one of the tensest "stage waits" of Mike's experience. Itwas not long, but, while it lasted, the silence was quite solid. Nobodyseemed to have anything to say, and there was not even a clock in theroom to break the stillness with its ticking. A very faint drip-drip ofrain could be heard outside the window. 

Presently there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs. The door wasopened. 

"Mr. Smith, sir. "

The Old Etonian entered as would the guest of the evening who is a fewmoments late for dinner. He was cheerful, but slightly deprecating. Hegave the impression of one who, though sure of his welcome, feels thatsome slight apology is expected from him. He advanced into the room witha gentle half-smile which suggested good will to all men. 

"It is still raining, " he observed. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"Sit down, Smith. "

"Thank you, sir. "

He dropped into a deep armchair (which both Adair and Mike had avoidedin favor of less luxurious seats) with the confidential cosiness of afashionable physician calling on a patient, between whom and himselftime has broken down the barriers of restraint and formality. 

Mr. Downing burst out, like a reservoir that has broken its banks. 

"Smith. "

Psmith turned his gaze politely in the housemaster's direction. 

"Smith, you came to me a quarter of an hour ago and told me that it wasyou who had painted my dog Sampson. "

"Yes, sir. "

"It was absolutely untrue?"

"I am afraid so, sir. "

"But, Smith ... " began the headmaster. 

Psmith bent forward encouragingly. 

"... This is a most extraordinary affair. Have you no explanation tooffer? What induced you to do such a thing?"

Psmith sighed softly. 

"The craze of notoriety, sir, " he replied sadly. "The curse of thepresent age. "

"What!" replied the headmaster. 

"It is remarkable, " proceeded Psmith placidly, with the impersonal touchof one lecturing on generalities, "how frequently, when a murder hasbeen committed, one finds men confessing that they have done it when itis out of the question that they should have committed it. It is one ofthe most interesting problems with which anthropologists are confronted. Human nature--"

The headmaster interrupted. 

"Smith, " he said, "I should like to see you alone for a moment. Mr. Downing, might I trouble... ? Adair, Jackson. "

He made a motion toward the door. 

When he and Psmith were alone, there was silence. Psmith leaned backcomfortably in his chair. The headmaster tapped nervously with his footon the floor. 

"Er ... Smith. "

"Sir?"

The headmaster seemed to have some difficulty in proceeding. He pausedagain. Then he went on. 

"Er ... Smith, I do not for a moment wish to pain you, but have you ... Er, do you remember ever having had, as a child, let us say, any ... Er ... Severe illness? Any ... Er ... _mental_ illness?"

"No, sir. "

"There is no--forgive me if I am touching on a sad subject--there isno ... None of your near relatives have ever suffered in the way I ... Er ... Have described?"

"There isn't a lunatic on the list, sir, " said Psmith cheerfully. 

"Of course, Smith, of course, " said the headmaster hurriedly, "I did notmean to suggest--quite so, quite so. ... You think, then, that youconfessed to an act which you had not committed purely from some suddenimpulse which you cannot explain?"

"Strictly between ourselves, sir ... "

Privately, the headmaster found Psmith's man-to-man attitude somewhatdisconcerting, but he said nothing. 

"Well, Smith?"

"I should not like it to go any further, sir. "

"I will certainly respect any confidence ... "

"I don't want anybody to know, sir. This is strictly between ourselves. "

"I think you are sometimes apt to forget, Smith, the proper relationsexisting between boy and--Well, never mind that for the present. We canreturn to it later. For the moment, let me hear what you wish to say. Ishall, of course, tell nobody, if you do not wish it. "

"Well, it was like this, sir, " said Psmith, "Jackson happened to tell methat you and Mr. Downing seemed to think he had painted Mr. Downing'sdog, and there seemed some danger of his being expelled, so I thought itwouldn't be an unsound scheme if I were to go and say I had done it. That was the whole thing. Of course, Dunster writing created a certainamount of confusion. "

There was a pause. 

"It was a very wrong thing to do, Smith, " said the headmaster, at last, "but.... You are a curious boy, Smith. Good night. "

He held out his hand. 

"Good night, sir, " said Psmith. 

"Not a bad old sort, " said Psmith meditatively to himself, as he walkeddownstairs. "By no means a bad old sort. I must drop in from time totime and cultivate him. "

Mike and Adair were waiting for him outside the front door. 

"Well?" said Mike. 

"You _are_ the limit, " said Adair. "What's he done?"

"Nothing. We had a very pleasant chat, and then I tore myself away. "

"Do you mean to say he's not going to do a thing?"

"Not a thing. "

"Well, you're a marvel, " said Adair. 

Psmith thanked him courteously. They walked on toward the houses. 

"By the way, Adair, " said Mike, as the latter started to turn in atDowning's, "I'll write to Strachan tonight about that match. "

"What's that?" asked Psmith. 

"Jackson's going to try and get Wrykyn to give us a game, " said Adair. "They've got a vacant date. I hope the dickens they'll do it. "

"Oh, I should think they're certain to, " said Mike. "Good night. "

"And give Comrade Downing, when you see him, " said Psmith, "my very bestlove. It is men like him who make this Merrie England of ours whatit is. "

 * * * * *

"I say, Psmith, " said Mike suddenly, "what really made you tell Downingyou'd done it?"

"The craving for--"

"Oh, chuck it. You aren't talking to the Old Man now. I believe it wassimply to get me out of a jolly tight corner. "

Psmith's expression was one of pain. 

"My dear Comrade Jackson, " said he, "you wrong me. You make me writhe. I'm surprised at you. I never thought to hear those words fromMichael Jackson. "

"Well, I believe you did, all the same, " said Mike obstinately. "And itwas jolly good of you, too. "

Psmith moaned. 

30

SEDLEIGH V. WRYKYN

The Wrykyn match was three parts over, and things were going badly forSedleigh. In a way one might have said that the game was over, and thatSedleigh had lost; for it was a one-day match, and Wrykyn, who had ledon the first innings, had only to play out time to make the game theirs. 

Sedleigh were paying the penalty for allowing themselves to beinfluenced by nerves in the early part of the day. Nerves lose moreschool matches than good play ever won. There is a certain type ofschool batsman who is a gift to any bowler when he once lets hisimagination run away with him. Sedleigh, with the exception of Adair, Psmith, and Mike, had entered upon this match in a state of the mostazure funk. Ever since Mike had received Strachan's answer and Adair hadannounced on the notice board that on Saturday, July the twentieth, Sedleigh would play Wrykyn, the team had been all on the jump. It wasuseless for Adair to tell them, as he did repeatedly, on Mike'sauthority, that Wrykyn were weak this season, and that on their presentform Sedleigh ought to win easily. The team listened, but were notcomforted. Wrykyn might be below their usual strength, but then Wrykyncricket, as a rule, reached such a high standard that this probablymeant little. However weak Wrykyn might be--for them--there was a veryfirm impression among the members of the Sedleigh first eleven that theother school was quite strong enough to knock the cover off _them_. Experience counts enormously in school matches. Sedleigh had never beenproved. The teams they played were the sort of sides which the Wrykynsecond eleven would play. Whereas Wrykyn, from time immemorial, had beenbeating Ripton teams and Free Foresters teams and M. C. C. Teams packedwith county men and sending men to Oxford and Cambridge who got theirblues as freshmen. 

Sedleigh had gone onto the field that morning a depressed side. 

It was unfortunate that Adair had won the toss. He had had no choice butto take first innings. The weather had been bad for the last week, andthe wicket was slow and treacherous. It was likely to get worse duringthe day, so Adair had chosen to bat first. 

Taking into consideration the state of nerves the team was in, this initself was a calamity. A school eleven are always at their worst andnerviest before lunch. Even on their own ground they find thesurroundings lonely and unfamiliar. The subtlety of the bowlers becomesmagnified. Unless the first pair make a really good start, a collapsealmost invariably ensues. 

Today the start had been gruesome beyond words. Mike, the bulwark of theside, the man who had been brought up on Wrykyn bowling, and from whom, whatever might happen to the others, at least a fifty wasexpected--Mike, going in first with Barnes and taking first over, hadplayed inside one from Bruce, the Wrykyn slow bowler, and had beencaught at short slip off his second ball. 

That put the finishing touch on the panic. Stone, Robinson, and theothers, all quite decent punishing batsmen when their nerves allowedthem to play their own game, crawled to the wickets, declined to hit outat anything, and were clean bowled, several of them, playing back tohalf volleys. Adair did not suffer from panic, but his batting was notequal to his bowling, and he had fallen after hitting one four. Sevenwickets were down for thirty when Psmith went in. 

Psmith had always disclaimed any pretensions to batting skill, but hewas undoubtedly the right man for a crisis like this. He had an enormousreach, and he used it. Three consecutive balls from Bruce he turned intofull tosses and swept to the leg boundary, and, assisted by Barnes, whohad been sitting on the splice in his usual manner, he raised the totalto seventy-one before being yorked, with his score at thirty-five. Tenminutes later the innings was over, with Barnes not out sixteen, forseventy-nine. 

Wrykyn had then gone in, lost Strachan for twenty before lunch, andfinally completed their innings at a quarter to four for a hundred andthirty-one. 

This was better than Sedleigh had expected. At least eight of the teamhad looked forward dismally to an afternoon's leather hunting. But Adairand Psmith, helped by the wicket, had never been easy, especiallyPsmith, who had taken six wickets, his slows playing havoc withthe tail. 

It would be too much to say that Sedleigh had any hope of pulling thegame out of the fire; but it was a comfort, they felt, at any rate, having another knock. As is usual at this stage of a match, theirnervousness had vanished, and they felt capable of better things than inthe first innings. 

It was on Mike's suggestion that Psmith and he went in first. Mike knewthe limitations of the Wrykyn bowling, and he was convinced that, ifthey could knock Bruce off, it might be possible to rattle up a scoresufficient to give them the game, always provided Wrykyn collapsed inthe second innings. And it seemed to Mike that the wicket would be sobad then that they easily might. 

So he and Psmith had gone in at four o'clock to hit. And they had hit. The deficit had been wiped off, all but a dozen runs, when Psmith wasbowled, and by that time Mike was set and in his best vein. He treatedall the bowlers alike. And when Stone came in, restored to his properframe of mind, and lashed out stoutly, and after him Robinson and therest, it looked as if Sedleigh had a chance again. The score was ahundred and twenty when Mike, who had just reached his fifty, skied oneto Strachan at cover. The time was twenty-five past five. 

As Mike reached the pavilion, Adair declared the innings closed. 

Wrykyn started batting at twenty-five minutes to six, with sixty-nine tomake if they wished to make them, and an hour and ten minutes duringwhich to keep up their wickets if they preferred to take things easy andgo for a win on the first innings. 

At first it looked as if they meant to knock off the runs, for Strachanforced the game from the first ball, which was Psmith's, and which hehit into the pavilion. But, at fifteen, Adair bowled him. And when, tworuns later, Psmith got the next man stumped, and finished up his overwith a c-and-b, Wrykyn decided that it was not good enough. Seventeenfor three, with an hour all but five minutes to go, was getting toodangerous. So Drummond and Rigby, the next pair, proceeded to play withcaution, and the collapse ceased. 

This was the state of the game at the point at which this chapteropened. Seventeen for three had become twenty-four for three, and thehands of the clock stood at ten minutes past six. Changes of bowling hadbeen tried, but there seemed no chance of getting past the batsmen'sdefence. They were playing all the good balls, and refused to hit atthe bad. 

A quarter past six struck, and then Psmith made a suggestion whichaltered the game completely. 

"Why don't you have a shot this end?" he said to Adair, as they werecrossing over. "There's a spot on the off which might help you a lot. You can break like blazes if only you land on it. It doesn't help my legbreaks a bit, because they won't hit at them. "

Barnes was on the point of beginning to bowl when Adair took the ballfrom him. The captain of Outwood's retired to short leg with an air thatsuggested that he was glad to be relieved of his prominent post. Thenext moment Drummond's off stump was lying at an angle of forty-five. Adair was absolutely accurate as a bowler, and he had dropped his firstball right on the worn patch. 

Two minutes later Drummond's successor was retiring to the pavilion, while the wicket keeper straightened the stumps again. 

There is nothing like a couple of unexpected wickets for altering theatmosphere of a game. Five minutes before, Sedleigh had been lethargicand without hope. Now there was a stir and buzz all around the ground. There were twenty-five minutes to go, and five wickets were down. Sedleigh was on top again. 

The next man seemed to take an age coming out. As a matter of fact, hewalked more rapidly than a batsman usually walks to the crease. 

Adair's third ball dropped just short of the spot. The batsman, hittingout, was a shade too soon. The ball hummed through the air a couple offeet from the ground in the direction of mid off, and Mike, diving tothe right, got to it as he was falling, and chucked it up. 

After that the thing was a walk over. Psmith clean bowled a man in hisnext over: and the tail, demoralized by the sudden change in the game, collapsed uncompromisingly. Sedleigh won by thirty-five runs with eightminutes in hand. 

 * * * * *

Psmith and Mike sat in their study after lockup, discussing things ingeneral and the game in particular. "I feel like a beastly renegade, playing against Wrykyn, " said Mike. "Still, I'm glad we won. Adair's ajolly good sort and it'll make him happy for weeks. "

"When I last saw Comrade Adair, " said Psmith, "he was going about in asort of trance, beaming vaguely and wanting to stand people things atthe shop. "

"He bowled awfully well. "

"Yes, " said Psmith. "I say, I don't wish to cast a gloom over thisjoyful occasion in any way, but you say Wrykyn are going to giveSedleigh a fixture again next year?"

"Well?"

"Well, have you thought of the massacre which will ensue? You will haveleft, Adair will have left. Incidentally, I shall have left. Wrykyn willswamp them. "

"I suppose they will. Still, the great thing, you see, is to get thething started. That's what Adair was so keen on. Now Sedleigh has beatenWrykyn, he's satisfied. They can get fixtures with decent clubs, andwork up to playing the big schools. You've got to start somehow. So it'sall right, you see. "

"And, besides, " said Psmith, reflectively, "in an emergency they canalways get Comrade Downing to bowl for them, what? Let us now sally outand see if we can't promote a rag of some sort in this abode of wrath. Comrade Outwood has gone over to dinner at the School House, and itwould be a pity to waste a somewhat golden opportunity. Shallwe stagger?"

They staggered.