[Frontispiece: "A fierce hand-to-hand fight was in progress. "]

SOLDIERS OF THE QUEEN

BY

HAROLD AVERY

LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK

THOMAS NELSON AND SONS

1898

CONTENTS

 I. Tin Soldiers II. An Ugly Duckling III. The Rebel Reclaimed IV. The Court of Queen Mab V. An Unlucky Picnic VI. A Keepsake VII. Strife in the Upper Fourth VIII. A Banquet at "Duster's" IX. "Guard Turn Out!" X. "Storms in a Tea-cup" XI. "Out of the Frying-pan--" XII. "--Into the Fire" XIII. A Robbery at Brenlands XIV. The Sound of the Drum XV. The Queen's Shilling XVI. On Active Service XVII. Under Fire XVIII. The Battle XIX. "Food for Powder" XX. The River's Brink XXI. "When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again!" XXII. Conclusion

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"Lieutenant Lawson, revolver in hand, stepped into a gap in the ranks". . . . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_. 

"Another volley swept the intervening stretch of tablecloth"

"'Make haste! I can't hang on much longer'" (missing from book)

"The visitors were seized, and hustled unceremoniously out of the room"

"'Here they are! now we've got them!'"

"It was Christmas Day in the camp at Korti"

"The enemy swerved round the flank of the square, and burst furiouslyupon the rear"

"The oncoming mass of Arabs"

SOLDIERS OF THE QUEEN. 

CHAPTER I. 

TIN SOLDIERS. 

"They shouldered arms, and looked straight before them, and wore asplendid uniform, red and blue. "--_The Brave Tin Soldier_. 

The battle was nearly over. Gallant tin soldiers of the line lay wherethey had fallen; nearly the whole of a shilling box of light cavalryhad paid the penalty of rashly exposing themselves in a compact body tothe enemy's fire; while a rickety little field-gun, with bright redwheels, lay overturned on two infantry men, who, even in death, heldtheir muskets firmly to their shoulders, like the grim old "die-hards"that they were. The brigade of guards, a dozen red-coated veterans ofsolid lead, who had taken up a strong position in the cover of acardboard box, still held their ground with a desperate valour onlyequalled by the dogged pluck of a similar body of the enemy, who hadoccupied the inkstand with the evident intention of remaining thereuntil the last cartridge had been expended. 

Another volley swept the intervening stretch of tablecloth, and thedeadly missiles glanced against the glass bottles and rattled among thepencils and penholders. Two men fell without a cry, and lay motionlesswith their heads resting on the pen-wiper. 

[Illustration: "Another volley swept the intervening stretch oftablecloth. "]

"Look here, Barbara, you're cheating! You put in more than two peasthat time, I know. "

It was the commander-in-chief of the invading forces who spoke, and thewords were addressed to a very harum-scarum looking young lady, whostood facing him on the opposite side of the table. 

"How d'you know I did?" she cried. 

"Because I saw them hit. There were three at least, and the rule wasthat we weren't to fire more than two at a time. "

"There weren't three, then, " retorted the girl, laughing, and shakingback her tangled locks with an impatient movement of her head. "Therewere _six_! Ha! ha! I put them all in my mouth at once, and you nevernoticed. "

"Oh, you little cheat!" cried the boy. "I'll lick you. "

The threat had evidently no terrors for her. She danced wildly roundthe table, crying, "Six! six! six!" and when at length he caught her, and held her by the waist, she turned round and rapped him smartly onthe head with a tin pea-shooter. 

At this stage of the proceedings a lady, who had been sitting in a lowchair by the fire, looked up from her book. 

"Come, come!" she said pleasantly. "I thought the day was past whengenerals fought single combats in front of their men. Isn't that true, Valentine?"

The tussle ceased at once; the boy released his sister, who laughed, and shook herself like a small kitten. 

"She's been cheating!" he exclaimed. 

"I fired six peas instead of two!" cried the culprit, evidentlydelighted with her little piece of wickedness. "And I knocked over twoof his silly old soldiers. "

A girl, somewhat older than Valentine, though very like him in face, laid down her needlework, saying, with a quiet smile, --

"All's fair in love and war, isn't it, Barbara?"

"Yes, of course it is, " answered her sister. 

"It's not--is it, aunt?" retorted the boy. 

The lady rose from her chair, and, with a merry twinkle in her eye, came over to the table. 

"Well, we'll hope not, " she said. "Why, Val, I should have thought youwere too old to play with tin soldiers; you were fourteen lastbirthday. "

"I don't think I shall ever be tired of playing with them--that is, " headded, "until I'm with real ones. "

"Queen Mab, " as the children sometimes called her, was below the mediumheight, and as she stood by her nephew's side his head reached abovethe level of her shoulder. She glanced over the mimic battlefield, andthen down at the bright, healthy-looking young face at her side, withits honest grey eyes and resolute little mouth and chin. The oldwords, "food for powder, " came into her mind, and she laid her handlightly on his rumpled hair. 

"So you still mean to be a soldier?"

"Yes, rather; and father says I may. "

Miss Fenleigh was silent for a moment. "Ah, well, " she said at length, "a happy time will come some day when there will be no more war; and Ithink it's about time this one ceased, for Jane will be here in aminute to clear the table for tea. "

If Valentine or either of his sisters had been asked to describe theirAunt Mabel, they would probably have done so by saying she was the bestand dearest person in the world; and accepting this assertion ascorrect, it would be difficult to say more. Her house also was one ofthe most delightful places which could well be imagined; and there, since their mother's death, the children spent each year the greaterpart of their summer holidays. 

It was a dear, easy-going old house, with stairs a little out of thestraight, and great beams appearing in unexpected places in the bedroomceilings. There were brass locks with funny little handles to thedoors, and queer alcoves and cupboards let into the walls. There wasno fusty drawing-room, with blinds always drawn down, and covers to thechairs, but two cosy parlours meant for everyday use, the larger ofwhich was panelled with dark wood which reflected the lamp andfirelight, and somehow seemed to be ready to whisper to one stories ofthe days when wood was used for wall-paper, and when houses were builtwith sliding panels in the walls and hiding-places in the chimneys. The garden exactly matched the house, and so did the flowers that grewin it--the pink daisies, "boy's love, " sweet-williams, and hollyhocks, all of which might be picked as well as looked at. Visitors never hada chance of stealing the fruit, because they were always invited to eatit as soon as it was ripe, or even before, if they preferred. 

There were a lawn, and a paddock, and a shrubbery, the last so muchovergrown that it resembled a little forest, and often did duty for aminiature "merry Sherwood, " when the present of some bows and arrowscaused playing at Robin Hood and his men to become a popular pastime. Lastly, there was the stable, where Jessamine, the little fat pony, andthe low basket-carriage were lodged; and above was the loft, a charmingplace, which had been in turn a ship, a fortress, a robbers' cave, anda desert island. Up there were loads of hay and bundles of straw, which could be built up or rolled about in; the place was always in aromantic twilight; there were old, deserted spiders' webs hanging tothe roof, looking like shops to let, which never did any business; andthe ascent and descent of the perpendicular ladder from the groundfloor was quite an adventure in itself. To picture a ship on which onehad to go aloft to enter the cabin would seem rather a difficult task;but a child's imagination is the richest in the world, and thoughValentine and his sisters had grown rather too old for this style ofamusement, every fresh visit to Brenlands was made brighter byrecollections of the many happy ones which had preceded it, and of allthe fun and frolic they had already enjoyed there. 

But best and foremost of all the charming things which made the placeso bright and attractive was Queen Mab herself. She never said thatlittle people ought to be seen and not heard; and there never was aperson so easy to tell one's troubles to, or so hard to keep a secretfrom, as Aunt Mabel. No one in the world could ever have told storiesas well as she did. "The Brave Tin Soldier" and "The Ugly Duckling"were the favourites, and came in time to be always associated withBrenlands. They had been told so often that the listeners always knewexactly what was coming next, and had the narrator put the number ofmetal brethren at two dozen instead of twenty-five, or missed out asingle stage of the duckling's wanderings, she would have beeninstantly tripped up by her audience. But Queen Mab was too skilful astory-teller to leave out the minutest detail in describing theperilous voyage of the paper boat, or to spare the duckling a singlesnub from the narrow-minded hen or the bumptious tom-cat. The "TinSoldier" she generally gave in answer to the special request of hersmall nephew, but she herself seemed to prefer the other story. There, the duckling's sorrowful wanderings finished with his turning into aswan, and Queen Mab always had a liking for happy endings. 

She and the old house were exactly suited to each other, and seemed toshare the same fragrant atmosphere, so that wherever her courtiers mether, and flung their arms round her neck, they were instantly remindedof sweet-brier and honeysuckle, jars of dried rose leaves, and all theother delicious scents of Brenlands. The children never noticed thatthere were streaks of silver in her hair, or that on her left hand shewore a mourning ring; nor did they know the reason why, on a certainday in the year, she seemed, if possible, more kind and loving than onany other, and went away somewhere early in the morning with a bigbunch of flowers, and came back with the basket empty. 

"Aunt, " said Barbara, "what's an old maid?"

"Why, I'm one!" answered Queen Mab, laughing; whereupon it became everyone's ambition to live a life of single blessedness. When there wascherry-tart for dinner, an alarming number of stones were secretlyswallowed, in order that the person guilty of this abominable piece ofsharp practice might count out, "This year--Next year--Sometime--Never!" and at old maid's cards the object of the game was nowreversed, and instead of trying to "go out, " every one strove to remainin, the fortunate being in whose hands the "old maid" remained at thefinish always brandishing the hitherto detested card with a shriek oftriumph. 

The last trace of the mimic battle had been cleared away, and now wheretin cavalry had ridden boldly to their fate, and lead guards had diedbut not surrendered, nothing was to be seen but peaceful plum-cake, orbread and butter cut in thin and appetizing slices. 

"I'm sorry you weren't able to make a longer stay, " said Aunt Mabel, asshe poured out the tea. "But your father said he couldn't spare youfor more than a week at Easter. However, the summer will soon be here, and then you will come again for a proper visit. By-the-bye, Valentine, d'you know that your cousin Jack is coming to be aschool-fellow of yours at Melchester?"

"No, aunt; is that Uncle Basil's son?"

"Yes; I want you to make friends with him, and bring him over here onyour half-term holiday. I hope he will come for a few weeks atmidsummer, and then you will all be able to have a jolly time together. "

"How old is he?" asked Valentine. 

"Oh, I think he is about a year older than you are--fifteen orthereabouts. "

Barbara had fished a stranger out of her cup, and was smiting the backof one plump little hand against the other, to the accompaniment of"Monday--Tuesday--Wednesday, " and so on. 

"Aunt Mab, " she said suddenly, "how is it we never hear anything ofUncle Basil, or that he never comes to visit us? What's Jack like?"

"Well, I can hardly tell you, " replied Miss Fenleigh; "I've only seenhim once, poor boy, and that was several years ago. "

"But why don't we ever see Uncle Basil?" persisted Barbara. "You oftencome and visit us, and why doesn't he?"

"Well, I live within ten miles of your house, and Padbury is thirty orforty miles on the other side of Melchester. "

"But that isn't very far by railway; and if he can't come, why doesn'the write?"

Aunt Mabel seemed perplexed what reply to make, but at this moment theboy came to her rescue. 

"Don't ask so many questions, Bar, " he said. 

Miss Barbara was always ready for a tussle, with words or any otherweapons. "Pooh!" she answered, "whom d'you think you're talking to? Iknow what it is, you're angry because I knocked over more of yoursoldiers than you did of mine!"

"Yes, you cheated. "

"Fiddles! You thought I'd only got two peas in my mouth, you oldstupid, and instead of that I'd got six, _six_! ha! ha!" And so thediscussion continued. 

Helen was nearly two years older than Valentine. She was a quiet, thoughtful girl, and later in the evening, when her brother and sisterhad gone to bed, she remained talking with her aunt in front of thefire. While so doing, she returned to the subject of theirconversation at the tea-table. 

"Aunt, why is it that father and Uncle Basil never meet?"

"Well, my dear, I didn't like to talk about it before Val and Barbara;it's a pity they should hear the story before they are older and canunderstand it better; besides, I wish the boys to be good friends whenthey meet at school. Basil and your father had a dispute many yearsago about some money matters connected with your grandfather's will, and I am sorry to say they have never been friends since. Your unclehas always been a very unpractical man; he has wasted his lifefollowing up ideas which he thought would bring him success and riches, but which always turned out failures. He always has some fresh fad, and it always brings him fresh trouble. I don't think he wouldwilfully wrong any one, but from being always in difficulties and underthe weather, his temper has been soured and his judgment warped, and hecannot or will not see that your father acted in a perfectly just andhonourable manner, and the consequence is, as I said before, they nevermade up their quarrel. "

"And Jack is going to the school at Melchester?"

"Yes; and I want Valentine to make friends with him, and for us to havehim here in the summer. Poor boy, soon after your mother died, he losthis, and I am afraid his life and home surroundings have not been veryhappy since. Well, we must try to brighten him up a bit. I've nodoubt we shall be able to do that when we get him here at Brenlands. "

CHAPTER II. 

AN UGLY DUCKLING. 

"They had not been out of the egg long, and were very saucy. 'Listen, friend, ' said one of them to the duckling, 'you are so ugly that welike you very well. '"--_The Ugly Duckling_. 

It was the first day of term, and Melchester School presented a generalappearance of being unpacked and put together again, as though thewhole institution had been sent out of town for the holidays, and hadreturned by goods train late on the previous evening. The passageswere strewn with the contents of boxes belonging to late comers; newboys wandered about, apparently searching for something which theynever found; while the old stagers exchanged noisy greetings, devouredeach other's "grub, " and discussed the prospects of the coming thirteenweeks which they must pass together before the commencement of thesummer vacation. 

Most of the boys had arrived on the Monday evening, but ValentineFenleigh did not come back until the following morning. According to apromise made to his aunt before leaving Brenlands, one of the firstthings he did was to inquire after his cousin. 

"Yes, " said one of his classmates, "there is a new chap by the name ofFenleigh, but I don't know what he's like. He's not put with us in theLower Fourth. "

Among a hundred and fifty boys, and in the confusion of a first day, itwas a difficult matter to discover at once the whereabouts of thefellow he wanted. He accosted one or two of the new-comers, but by thetime the bell rang for afternoon school he had only succeeded inascertaining the fact that his cousin must be somewhere about, fromhaving seen the name "J. Fenleigh" ticked off on the bedroom list. Holms was full of a project for hiring a bicycle during the summermonths, and, what with listening to the unfolding of this plan, andstruggling with the work in hand, Valentine soon forgot the existenceof his undiscovered relative. 

Towards the end of the first hour Mr. Copland, the form-master, foldedup a piece of paper on which he had been writing, and handing it acrossthe desk, said, --

"Fenleigh, take this in to Mr. Rowlands, and bring back an answer. "

Valentine made his way to the head-quarters of the Upper Fourth. Theclassroom was rather quieter than the one he had left, Mr. Rowlandsbeing somewhat of a martinet. 

"All right, " said the latter, who was copying a list of questions onthe blackboard; "put your note on my table, and I'll attend to you in amoment. "

The messenger did as he was told, and stood looking round the room, exchanging nods and winks with one or two members of the upper divisionwith whom he was on friendly terms. 

On a form at the back of the room sat three boys who were hardly everseen apart, and who had apparently formed an alliance for the purposeof idling their time, and mutually assisting one another in gettinginto scrapes. Their names were Garston, Rosher, and Teal; and seatedat the same desk was a boy with whom they seemed to have already struckup an acquaintance, though Valentine did not remember having seen hisface before. Even in the Upper Fourth there was a subdued shuffle, showing that work was going rather hard on this first day; and theyoung gentlemen whose names have just been mentioned were evidently notthrowing themselves heart and soul into the subject which was supposedto be occupying their undivided attention. 

Mr. Rowlands finished a line, made a full stop with a sharp rap of hischalk, and then turned round sniffing. 

"Dear me!" he said, "there's a strong smell of something burning. "

"Perhaps it's Jackson's cricket cap, " murmured a small boy. Jackson'shair, be it said, was of a fiery red, and hence the suggestion that hishead-gear might be smouldering in his pocket. 

"What's that?" demanded Mr. Rowlands, and the joker subsided. 

Jackson waited until a fresh sentence had been begun on the blackboard;then he dropped a ruler, and in picking it up again smote the small boyon a vulnerable spot beneath the peak of his shell-jacket. 

"There _is_ something burning, " repeated the master. "Has any one ofyou boys got matches in his pocket?"

"Oh, _no_, sir!" shouted a dozen voices. 

"Answer more quietly, can't you? I'm not deaf! Jackson, see ifthere's anything in the stove. "

The stove was found to contain nothing but a bit of ink-soddenblotting-paper. Jackson drew it carefully forth, and held it upbetween his finger and thumb. "That's all, sir, " he said. 

"Then put it _back_, sir, " cried the master, "and go on with your work. "

Valentine had some difficulty in keeping from laughing. The smellwhich had greeted Mr. Rowlands' nostrils was caused by Garston, who wasdeliberately burning holes with a magnifying glass in the coat of theboy in front of him, who sat all unconscious of what was happening tothis portion of his wardrobe. 

The new fellow, who watched the proceedings with great interest, nowstretched out his hand, and taking the glass held it up level with thevictim's neck. 

A moment later there was a yell. 

"Who made that noise?"

"Please, sir, somebody burnt my neck!"

"Burnt your neck! What boy has been burning Pilson's neck?"

The new-comer raised his hand and gave a flip with his thumb andfinger. "I did, " he answered. 

"You did!" exclaimed Mr. Rowlands wrathfully. "What are you thinkingof, sir? I've spoken to you four times to-day already. I don't knowif you were accustomed to behave in this manner at the last school youwere at, but let me tell you--"

"Please, sir, " interrupted Pilson plaintively, "they've burnt a hole inmy back!"

At this announcement the class exploded. 

"_Silence_!" cried the master. "What do you mean, Pilson? is your coatburnt?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Very well, Fenleigh; I shall give you five hundred lines. "

Valentine, who had been an unoffending spectator of the affair, wasfairly staggered at suddenly hearing himself commissioned to write fivehundred lines. Then the situation dawned upon him--this recklessgentleman with the burning-glass was his cousin Jack. 

Mr. Rowlands made a memorandum of the punishment, and at the same timescribbled a few words in reply to Mr. Copland. As he did so, Valentinehad an opportunity of examining his relative's appearance. The lattermight have been pronounced good-looking, had it not been for aperpetual expression of restlessness and discontent, which soured whatwould otherwise have been a pleasant face. He seemed to care verylittle for the lines, and as soon as the master's eye was off him heturned to Garston and winked. 

Valentine was by no means what is commonly known as a "good boy;" hewas as fond of a lark as any right-minded youngster need be; but he hadbeen taught at home that any one who intended to become a soldiershould first learn to obey, and to respect the authority of those setover him. He did not like plunging into rows for the sake of beingdisorderly; and something in Jack Fenleigh's careless behaviour did nottend to leave on his mind a very favourable impression of hisnewly-found cousin. He had, however, promised Queen Mab to makefriends; and so, as soon as afternoon school was over, he waited forJack in the gravel playground, and there introduced himself. 

"Oh, so you're Valentine, " said the other. "My guv'nor told me youwere here. "

"Yes. I hope we shall be friends. "

"Well, there's no reason why we shouldn't. My guv'nor's had a row withyours, I know; but that's nothing, he's always quarrelling withsomebody, and I'm sure I don't mind, if you don't. By-the-bye, weren'tyou the fellow who was in the classroom when I got into that row aboutthe burning-glass?"

"Yes; and I say it's rather a pity you go on like that the first dayyou're here. Masters don't expect new fellows to begin larking atonce, and you'll get into Rowlands' bad books. "

"Oh, I don't mind that, " answered the other; "I didn't want to comehere, and I don't care if I'm sent going again. "

At this moment Garston joined them. 

"Hallo!" he said, "are you two related to each other? I never thoughtof your names being the same before. Cousins, eh? Well, look here, new Fenleigh, Pilson's on the war-path after you for burning his neck. "

"I don't care if he is, " answered the other. 

Hardly had the words been spoken when the subject of them turned thecorner. 

"Yes, " he cried, "you're the chap I'm after! What did you burn my coatfor?"

"I didn't burn your coat. "

"Oh, you liar! Look here, I'm just going to--"

What Pilson _was_ going to do will remain for ever unknown. He had nosooner laid his hand on Jack's collar than the latter, without amoment's hesitation, struck him a heavy blow on the chest which senthim staggering back against the wall gasping for breath. 

"Just keep your dirty paws off me. I tell you I didn't burn your coat;though to look at it, I should think burning's about all it's good for. "

This was not at all the usual line of conduct which new boys adoptedwhen brought to book by an oldster. Pilson felt aggrieved, but made noattempt to follow up his attack. 

"All right, " he said. "You're a liar, and I'll tell all the otherfellows. "

"You can tell 'em what you please, " returned the other, and taking holdof Garston's arm he walked away. 

Valentine turned on his heel with a doubtful look on his face; hiscousin evidently knew how to take care of himself, yet the latter'sconduct was not altogether satisfactory. It was Garston who had burntthe coat, and it was like him to let another boy bear the blame; whileJack evidently cared as little for being thought a liar as he did forany other misfortune that might befall him. 

During the next few days the cousins met every now and again in theplayground, or about the school buildings, but it was only to exchangea nod or a few words on some subject of general interest. There seemedto be little in common between them; and Jack, though willing enough tobe friendly and forget the family feud, evidently found the society ofthe three unruly members of the Upper Fourth more to his liking thanthat of a steady-going boy like Valentine. 

For nearly a month the latter did his best to form the friendship whichhis aunt had desired; then an event happened which caused him to almostregard the task as hopeless. Jack had been steadily winning forhimself the reputation of a black sheep; but the climax was reachedwhen he further distinguished himself in connection with certainextraordinary proceedings known and remembered long afterwards as the"Long Dormitory Sports. "

It was Rosher's idea. The chamber in question was called "Long" fromthe fact that it contained sixteen beds, eight on a side, all of whichwere occupied by members of the Upper Fourth. Skeat, the Sixth Formboy in charge, was ill, and had gone to the infirmary; and in theabsence of the proverbial cat, the mice determined to get in as muchplay as possible, only stopping short at performances which mightattract the attention of the master on duty. 

It was one Tuesday night. Garston and Teal had had a quarter milewalking race up and down the centre aisle, which had ended, to thegreat delight of the spectators, in Garston nearly tearing hisnightshirt off his back by catching it on a broken bedstead, while theother competitor had kicked his toe against an iron dumb-bell, andfinished the race by dancing a one-legged hornpipe in the middle of thecourse, while his opponent won "hands down. "

"I say, " remarked Rosher, "why shouldn't we have proper sports, with aproper list of events and prizes?"

"Who'll give the prizes?" asked Teal. 

"Oh, anybody! Look here. I vote we have sports to-morrow night beforeold Skeat comes back. Hands up, those who are agreeable! To thecontrary!--none. Very well, it's carried!"

"But how about prizes?" persisted Teal, who was of rather a mercenarydisposition. 

"There needn't be any proper prizes, " answered Rosher; "we can give thewinners anything. "

"Give 'em lines, " suggested Garston. 

"No; shut up, Garston. Everybody must give something. I'll offer abrass match-box, shaped like a pig. "

"No, you won't, " interrupted Teal. "It's mine; you borrowed it a weekago, and never gave it me back. "

"Did I? Well, I'll tell you what, I'll offer a photograph of mybrother; the frame's worth something. Now, what'll you give, Garston?"

Garston offered a small pocket-mirror. Jack Fenleigh a bonecollar-stud, while a boy named Hamond promised what was vaguelydescribed as "part of a musical box, " and which afterwards turned outto be the small revolving barrel, the only fragment of the instrumentwhich remained. 

Prizes having been secured, the next thing was to arrange competitionsin which to win them; and in doing this, the committee were obliged tokeep in view the peculiar nature and limitations of the ground at theirdisposal. It was no good Hamond's clamouring for a pole jump, or Tealsuggesting putting the weight. Jack's proposal of a sack race inbolster cases was, for a moment, entertained as a good idea; then itwas suddenly remembered that the bolsters had no cases, and so thatproject fell through. 

One by one the events were decided on. Rosher promised to draw up aprogramme, and insisted that after every boy's name some distinguishingcolours should appear, as on a proper sports list, and that competitorswere to arrange their costumes accordingly. 

"When shall it come off?" asked Garston. 

"Oh, to-morrow, after the masters have all gone in to supper. Now, we've been planning long enough; good-night. "

The occupants of the Long Dormitory, be it said to their credit, werenot fellows to form a scheme and then think no more about it, and thenext day their minds were exercised with preparations for the sports, the chief difficulty being in arranging costumes which should answer tothe descriptions given on Rosher's card. These vagaries in dresscaused an immense amount of amusement, and when the masters'supper-bell gave the signal for the commencement of operations, everyone found it difficult to retrain from shouts of laughter at the sightof the various styles of war-paint. Perhaps that of Jack Fenleigh, though simple to a degree, was most comical: his colours were describedas "red and white, " and his costume consisted of his night-shirt, and alarge scarlet chest-protector which he had borrowed from a small boy, whose mother fondly believed him to be wearing it according to herinstructions, instead of utilizing it to line a box containing acollection of birds' eggs. 

As every race had to be run in a number of heats the events werenecessarily few in number. There were a hopping race, a hurdle raceover the beds, and a race in which the competitors were blindfolded, and each carried a mug full of water, which had not to be spilt by theway. 

Teal, over whose bed, as the result of a collision, two boys happenedto empty the contents of their half-pint cups, professed not to seemuch fun in the performance, though every one else voted it simplyscreaming. 

But the contest looked forward to with the greatest amount of interestwas the obstacle race. It was placed at the end of the programme;Garston's pocket-mirror, the only prize worth having, was to reward thewinner; and the conditions were as follows:--

The runners were to go once round the room, alternately crawling underand hopping over the sixteen beds; the finish was to be down the middleaisle, across the centre of which a row of chairs was placed, on whichboys stood or sat to keep them steady while the racers crawled underthe seats. In spite of the fact that the pocket-mirror was to be theprize, only Jack and Hamond appeared at the starting-point when it cameto this last item on Rosher's programme, their companions voting it toomuch fag, and preferring to sit on the obstacles and look on. 

The signal was given, and the two competitors started off in grandstyle, plunging in and out among the beds like dolphins in a choppysea. Jack led from the first; he dashed up to the row of chairs a longway in front of Hamond, and had wriggled the greater portion of hisbody through the bars, when--

No one could have said exactly how the alarm was given, or who firstsaw the gleam of light through the ground-glass ventilator. Theobstacle was snatched from the centre of the room; with a rush and abound everybody was in bed; a moment later Mr. Rowlands entered theroom, the first thing which met his gaze being the extraordinaryspectacle of Jack Fenleigh, who, like a new kind of snail, was crawlingalong the floor on his hands and knees with a cane-bottomed chair fixedfirmly on the centre of his back. The weight of the boy sitting on itbeing removed, the unfortunate Jack found it impossible to force hisway any further, and thus remained unable to extricate himself frombetween the bars of the obstacle. 

"Fenleigh, " said the master, "get up off the ground. What are youdoing, sir?"

The boy struggled to his feet, and in doing so revealed the glories ofthe chest-protector. There was a subdued titter from the adjacent beds. 

"Silence!" cried Mr. Rowlands. "So you're responsible for this noiseand disorder, Fenleigh? If you want to perform as a clown, you hadbetter leave school and join a circus. At nine o'clock to-morrow youwill come with me to the headmaster's study. "

By breakfast-time on the following morning the story of this tragicfinish to the obstacle race was all over the school. Valentine heardit, and waited anxiously to learn his cousin's fate. The latterescaped with a severe reprimand, and the loss of the next twohalf-holiday afternoons; but he was reminded that his conduct, especially for a new boy, had been all along most unsatisfactory, andhe was given clearly to understand that any repetition of this constantmisbehaviour would result in his being expelled without further warning. 

"I wish you'd take more care what you're up to, Jack, " said Valentine. "You're bound to get thrown out if you don't behave better. "

"What's the odds if I am? I've only been here a month, and I hate theplace already. "

"It seems to me, " answered Valentine sadly, "that you don't care astraw for anything or anybody. "

"Well, why should I?" returned the other. "You wouldn't, if you werein my place. "

CHAPTER III. 

THE REBEL RECLAIMED. 

"'I think he will grow up pretty, and perhaps be smaller; he hasremained too long in the egg, and therefore his figure is not properlyformed;' and then she stroked his neck and smoothed thefeathers. "--_The Ugly Duckling_. 

Towards the end of June, Queen Mab wrote asking the two boys to comeover for their usual half-term holiday. 

"I'm not going, " said Jack. 

"Why not?" asked Valentine, astonished that any one should decline aninvitation to Brenlands. "Why ever not? You'd have a jolly time; AuntMabel's awfully kind. "

"I daresay she is, but I never go visiting. I hate all that sort ofthing. "

It was no good trying to make Jack Fenleigh alter his mind; he stuck tohis resolution, and Valentine went to Brenlands alone. 

"I'm sorry Jack wouldn't come with you, " said Queen Mab on the Saturdayevening; "why was it? Aren't you and he on good terms with each other?"

"Oh, yes, aunt, we're friendly enough in one way, but we don't seemable to hit it off very well together. "

"How is that?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm not his sort; I suppose I'm too quiet for him. "

"I always thought you were noisy enough, " answered Miss Fenleighlaughing. 

"You wouldn't, if you knew some of our fellows, " returned the boy. 

The weeks slipped by, the holidays were approaching, and the far-offhaven of home could almost, as it were, be seen with the naked eye. Whether the disastrous termination to the dormitory sports had reallyserved as a warning to Jack to put some restraint upon his waywardinclinations, it would be difficult to say; but certainly since theaffair of the obstacle race he had managed to keep clear of theheadmaster's study, and had only indulged in such minor acts ofdisorder as were the natural consequences of his friendship withGarston, Rosher, and Teal. It needed the firm hand of Mr. Rowlands tohold in check the sporting element which at this period was, unfortunately, rather strong in the Upper Fourth, and which, at certaintimes--as for instance during the French lessons--attempted to turn thevery highroad to learning into a second playground. 

Monsieur Durand, whose duty it was to instil a knowledge of hisgraceful mother tongue into the minds of a score of restless andunappreciative young Britons, found the facetious gentlemen of theUpper Fourth a decided "handful. " They seemed to regard instruction inthe Gallic language as an unending source of merriment. Garston threwsuch an amount of eloquence into the reading of the sentence, "Mycousin has lost the hat of the gardener, " that every one sighed tothink that a relative of one of their classmates should have broughtsuch sorrow on the head of the honest son of toil; and when Tealannounced joyfully that "His uncle had found the hat of the gardener, "Rosher was obliged to slap the speaker on the back, and say, "Bravo!"

This being M. Durand's first term in an English school, that gentlemancould hardly have been expected, as the saying goes, to be up to allthe moves on the board; and certain of his pupils, sad to relate, wereonly too ready to take advantage of his lack of experience. It wasdiscovered that it was comparatively easy to obtain permission to leavethe class. "Please, sir, may I go and get a drink of water?" or"Please, sir, may I go and fetch my dictionary?" was sufficient toobtain temporary leave of absence; nor did the French master seem totake much notice as to the length of time which such errands should byright have occupied. The consequence was that not unfrequently towardsthe end of the hour a quarter of his pupils were gathered in what wasknown as the playshed, drinking sherbet, or playing cricket with afives ball and a walking-stick. 

One particular morning, when the Lower Fourth were struggling with theparsing and analysis of a certain portion of Goldsmith's "DesertedVillage, " a mysterious patch of light appeared dancing about on thewall and ceiling, attracting the attention of the whole class, andcausing the boy just told to "go on" to describe "man" as a personalpronoun, and to put a direct object after the verb "to be. "

"Fenleigh, " said Mr. Copland, "just see who that is outside. "

Valentine, who was seated nearest the window, rose from his place, andlooking down into the yard beneath saw the incorrigible Jack amusinghimself by flashing sunbeams with the pocket-mirror which he had won inthe dormitory sports. The latter, who ought by rights to have beentranscribing a French exercise, grinned, and promptly bolted round thecorner. 

"Who was it, Fenleigh?"

Valentine hesitated. 

"Who was it? Did you see the boy?"

"Yes, sir; it was my cousin. "

"What! J. Fenleigh in the Upper Fourth?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Humph! very well, " answered Mr. Copland, making a memorandum on a slipof paper in front of him; "I'll seek an interview with that younggentleman after school. "

Valentine's heart sank, for he had in his pocket a letter from QueenMab saying that she was driving over in the pony carriage that veryafternoon, and inviting the two boys to spend their half-holiday withher in Melchester. This significant remark of Mr. Copland's meant thatJack would be prevented from going. Valentine felt that he wasindirectly the cause of the misfortune, and his wayward relative seemedinclined to view the matter in the same light. 

"I say, " he exclaimed, "you were a sneak to tell Copland it was I whowas flashing that looking-glass. "

"I couldn't help it, " answered Valentine. "He told me to look out andsee who was there. "

"Well, why didn't you say the fellow had run away, or something of thatsort?"

"Because it would have been a lie. "

"Pooh! telling a cram like that to a master doesn't count. You are amuff, Valentine, " and the speaker turned on his heel with acontemptuous shrug of his shoulders. 

The little fat pony, the low basket-carriage, Jakes the gardenerdriving, and last and best of all Queen Mab herself, arrived at thetime appointed; but only one of her nephews was waiting at therendezvous. 

"Why, where's Jack?"

"He got into a scrape this morning, and is kept in. What's more, hesays it's my fault, and we've had a row about it. I don't think weever shall be friends, aunt. "

"Oh, you mustn't say that. In a fortnight's time we shall all be atBrenlands together, and then we must try to rub some of the sharpcorners off this perverse young gentleman. I must come back with youto the school and try to see him before I drive home. "

In the quiet retirement of Mr. Copland's classroom, Jack was writinglines when a messenger came to inform him that some one wished to seehim in the visitors' room. 

"Bother it! Aunt Mabel, " he said to himself. "I suppose I must go, "he added, swishing the ink from his pen and throwing it down on thedesk. "What a bore relations are! I wish they'd let me alone. "

From their one brief meeting years before, neither aunt nor nephewwould have recognized each other now had they met in the streets, andso this was like making a fresh acquaintance. Jack had heard only onehalf of a very lopsided story, and though he took no interest in thefamily disagreement, yet he was inclined to be suspicious of hisgrown-up relations. He marched down the passage, jingling his keyswith an air of defiance; but when he entered the visitors' room, andsaw the bright smile with which his aunt greeted his appearance, hedropped the swagger and became stolidly polite. She, for her part, hadcome prepared for the conquest which she always made; his awkward, boyish manner and uncared-for appearance, the dissatisfied look uponhis face, and the ink stains on his collar, all were noticed in oneloving glance, and touched her warm heart. 

"Well, Jack, " she said, "you see Mahomet has come to the mountain. Howare you, dear?"

Jack muttered that he was quite well. It was rather embarrassing to becalled "dear. " He attempted to hide his confusion by wiping his nose;but in producing his handkerchief, he pulled out with it a forkedcatapult stick and a broken metal pen-holder, which clattered to theground and had to be picked up again. 

"How you've grown!" said Queen Mab, "and--my senses! what musclesyou've got, " she added, feeling his arm. 

Jack grinned and bent his elbow, the next moment he straightened itagain. 

"Go on!" he said; "you're chaffing me. "

"I'm not. I wish you'd been at Brenlands at Easter, and I'd have setyou to beat carpets. Never mind, I shall have you with me in afortnight. "

"I don't think I shall come, " he began. 

"Stuff and nonsense!" interrupted the aunt. "I say you _are_ coming. Valentine never makes excuses when I send him an invitation. Don't youthink I know how to amuse young people?"

"Oh, yes; it's not that. "

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know, " answered the boy, grinning, and kicking the leg of thetable. 

"Of course you don't; so you've got to come. Valentine's sisters willbe there; you'd like to meet the two girls?"

"No, I shouldn't. "

"Oh, shocking! you rude boy. "

Jack stood on one leg and laughed; this was like talking to a fellow inthe Upper Fourth, and his tongue was loosed. 

"They'd hate me, " he said; "I don't know anything about girls. "

"I should think you didn't. Wait till you see Helen and Barbara. "

"But there's another thing. I haven't got any clothes. "

"My dear boy, how dreadful! Whose are those you are wearing now?"

"Oh, go on, aunt; what a chaff you are! I don't mean that--I--"

"No, you evidently don't know what you mean. Well, one thing'ssettled, you're coming to Brenlands for the summer holidays. "

The battle was won, and Queen Mab had gained her usual victory. 

"How is your father? Didn't he send me any message?"

"Yes, I think he told me to give you his love. "

"Is that all?"

"Well, that's a jolly sight more than what he sends to most people, "answered the boy. 

He would have been surprised to have seen that there were tears in hereyes when she walked out of the school gates, and still more astonishedto know that it was love for his unworthy self which brought themthere; for little did Fenleigh J. Of the Upper Fourth imagine that anyone would come so near to crying on his account. 

That evening, just before supper, Valentine felt some one touch him onthe shoulder, and turning round saw that it was his cousin. 

"I've seen Queen Mab, as you call her, " remarked the latter, "and, Isay--I like her--rather. "

"I knew you would. She's an angel--only jollier. "

"She made me promise I'd go there for the holidays. "

"Oh, that's fine!" cried Valentine. "I thought she would; she's gotsuch a way of making people do what she wants. I am glad you aregoing; you'll enjoy it awfully. "

Fenleigh J. Regarded the speaker for a moment with rather a curiousglance. In view of the events of the morning he rather expected thathis cousin would not be overpleased to hear that he had been asked tospend the holidays at Brenlands; and that Valentine should rejoice athis having accepted the invitation, struck him as being rather odd. 

"Look here, Val, " he blurted out, "I'm sorry I called you a sneak thismorning. It was my fault, and you're a good sort after all. "

"Oh, stop it!" answered the other. "I'll forgive you now that you'vepromised to go to Brenlands. "

Queen Mab was at home, miles away by this time; yet, as a result of herflying visit, some of the softening influence of her presence andkindly usages of her court seemed to linger even amid the rougher andmore turbulent atmosphere of Melchester School. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE COURT OF QUEEN MAB. 

"They were swans . .. The ugly little duckling felt quite a strangesensation as he watched them. "--_The Ugly Duckling_. 

During the short period which elapsed between Queen Mab's visit and theend of the term Jack managed to steer clear of misfortune; but on thelast evening he must needs break out and come to grief again. 

He incited the occupants of the Long Dormitory to celebrate the end ofwork by a grand bolster fight, during the progress of which conflict apillow was thrown through the ventilator above the door. It sohappened that, at that moment, Mr. Copland was walking along thepassage; and a cloud of feathers from the torn case, together withfragments of ground glass, being suddenly rained down on hisunoffending head, he was naturally led to make inquiries as to thecause of the outrage. As might have been expected, Fenleigh J. Wasfound to be the owner of the pillow which had done the damage, and hewas accordingly kept back on the following day to pay the usual penaltyof an imposition. 

"I'll take your luggage on with me, " said Valentine. "You get out atHornalby, the first station from here, and it's only about a quarter ofa mile from there to Brenlands. Any one will tell you the way. "

It turned out a wet evening. Queen Mab and her court had already beenwaiting tea for nearly half an hour, when Valentine exclaimed, "Hallo!here he is!"

The expected guest took apparently no notice of the rain; his clothcricket cap was perched on the back of his head, and he had not eventaken the trouble to turn up the collar of his jacket. He walked upthe path in a cautious manner, as though he expected at every step totrip over the wire of a spring-gun; but when he came within a dozenyards of the house he quickened his pace, for Aunt Mabel had opened thedoor, and was standing ready to give him a welcome. 

"Why, boy, how late you are! You must be nearly starving!"

"I couldn't come before, " he began; "I had some work to do, and--"

"Yes, you rascal! I've heard all about it. Come in, and Jane shallrub you down with a dry cloth. "

Jack left off jingling his keys; he did not like being "rubbed down, "but he submitted to the process with great good-humour. It was thecosiest old kitchen; the table was the whitest, and the pots and pansthe brightest, that could be imagined; and Jane, the cook, groomed himdown as though brushing a damp jacket with a dry glass-cloth was themost enjoyable pastime in life. In the parlour it was just the same:the pretty china cups and saucers, and the little bunches of brightflowers, only made all the nice things there were to eat seem moreattractive; and the company were as happy and gay as though it waseverybody's birthday, and they had all met to assist one another inkeeping up the occasion with a general merry-making. Jack alone wasquiet and subdued, for the simple reason that he had never seenanything like it in his life before. 

Queen Mab, strongly entrenched at the head of the table, behind theurn, sugar basin, and cream jug, held this line of outworks against anynumber of flank attacks in the shape of empty cups, the old silverteapot apparently containing an inexhaustible supply of ammunition, andenabling her to send every storming party back to the place from whenceit came, and even invite them to attempt another assault. 

Once or twice Jack turned to find his aunt watching him with a look inher eyes which caused his own face to reflect the smile which was onhers. She was thinking, and had been ever since she had seen thelatest addition to her court coming slowly up the front path throughthe dismal drizzle, of the old favourite story, and of that part in itwhere the ugly duckling, overtaken by the storm, arrived in front ofthe tumble-down little cottage, which "only remained standing becauseit could not decide on which side to fall first. "

When the meal was over, and while the table was being cleared, Jackwandered out into the porch, and stood watching the rain. He hadhardly been there a minute before he was joined by Barbara. 

"I say, " she exclaimed, "why didn't you talk at tea time? I wanted toask you heaps of things. Your name's Jack, isn't it? Well, mine'sBarbara; they call me Bar, because it's the American for bear, andfather says I am a young bear. I want to hear all about that pillowfight, and those races you had in the dormitory. "

"Oh, they weren't anything! How did you get to hear about them?"

"Why, Val told us. "

"Well, what a fellow he is! He's always talking about the rows I getinto. "

"It doesn't matter; we thought it awful fun. Helen laughed likeanything, and she's very good. I say, can you crack your fingers?"

"No; but I can crack my jaw. "

"Oh, do show me!"

Jack really did possess this gruesome accomplishment; he could somehowmake a blood-curdling click with his jawbone. When he did it in"prep. " his neighbours smote him on the head with dictionaries, andwhen he repeated the performance in the dormitory, fellows rose intheir beds and hurled pillows and execrations into the darkness. Barbara, however, was charmed. 

"You are clever!" she cried; "I wish I could do it. Now, come back, and sit by me; we're going to play games. "

Jack, who had cherished some vague notion that every girl was somethingbetween a saint and a bride-cake ornament, was agreeably surprised atthis conversation with his small admirer, and readily complied with herrequest. Several of the games he had never seen before, but he madebold attempts to play them some way or another, and soon entered intothe spirit of his surroundings. 

In making words out of words his spelling was nearly as bad asBarbara's, but he seemed to think his own mistakes a great joke, anddidn't care a straw how many marks he gave to the other players. In"Bell and Hammer, " however, he always managed to buy the "White Horse, "while other people would squander their all in bidding for a card whichperhaps turned out after all to be only the "Hammer. " At "Snap" he wassimply terrible; he literally swept the board, but kept passingportions of his winnings under the table to Barbara, whose pile seemedto be as inexhaustible as the widow's cruse. By the end of the eveninghe was the life of the party, and no one would have believed that hewas the same boy who, a few hours ago, had come up the front pathwishing in his secret heart that he was safely back at Melchesterwriting lines in the Upper Fourth classroom. 

He and Valentine shared a delightful, old four-post bed, which in timesgone by had had the marvellous property of turning itself into a tent, a gipsy van, or a raft, which, though launched from a sinking ship inthe very middle of a stormy ocean, always managed to bring its crew ofdistressed mariners safely to shore in time to answer Queen Mab'scheery call of "Tea's ready!"

"It is nice to be here, " said Valentine, dropping his head upon thepillow with a sigh of contentment. "Aren't you glad you came?"

"Yes, " answered Jack. "Aunt Mabel seems so jolly kind and glad to seeyou. I wish you hadn't told her about all those rows I got into; Idon't think she'll like me when she knows me better. "

"Oh, yes, she will! Don't you like Helen?"

"Yes; I think she has the nicest face I ever saw. But she's too goodfor me, Val, my boy. I think I shall get on better with Barbara; she'smore like a boy, and I don't think I shall ever be a ladies' man. "

Valentine laughed; the idea of Fenleigh J. Of the Upper Fourth everbecoming a ladies' man was certainly rather comical. 

"You'll like Helen when you get to know her. I wouldn't exchange heras a sister for any other girl in the kingdom. Well--good-night!"

That one evening at Brenlands had done more towards forming afriendship between the two boys than all the ninety odd days which theyhad already spent in each other's company. The next afternoon, however, they were destined to become still more united; and the mannerin which this came about was as follows. 

During the morning the weather held up, but by dinner time it wasraining again. 

"Bother it! what shall we do?" cried Valentine. 

"I should think you'd better play with your tin soldiers, " answeredHelen, laughing. "They always seem to keep you good. "

Valentine hardly liked this allusion to his miniature army being madein the hearing of his older schoolfellow, for boys at Melchester Schoolwere supposed to be above finding amusement in toys of any kind. Thelatter, however, pricked up his ears, and threw down the book he hadbeen reading. 

"Who's got any tin soldiers?" he asked. "Let's see 'em. " The boxeswere produced. "My eye!" continued Jack, turning out the contents, "what a heap you've got! I should like to set them out and have abattle. And here are two pea-shooters; just the thing!"

"You don't mean to say you're fond of tin soldiers, Jack?" said AuntMabel. "Why, you're much too old, I should have thought, for anythingof that kind. "

"I'm not, " answered the boy; "I love tin soldiers, and anything to dowith war. Come on, Val, we'll divide the men and have a fight. "

The challenge was accepted. There was an empty room upstairs, and onthe floor of this the opposing forces were drawn up, and a desperateconflict ensued. The troops were certainly a motley crew; some wererunning, some marching, and some were standing still; some had theirrifles at the "present, " and some at the "slope;" but what they lackedin drill and discipline, they made up in their steadiness when underfire, and Jack showed as much skill and resource in handling them asdid their rightful commander. He set out his men on some thin piecesof board, which could be moved forward up the room, it having beenagreed that he should be allowed to stand and deliver his fire from thespot reached by his advancing line of battle. Each group of thesetag-rag-and-bobtail metal warriors was dignified by the name of somefamous regiment. Here was the "Black Watch, " and there the "ColdstreamGuards;" while this assembly of six French Zouaves, a couple ofred-coats, a bugler, and a headless mounted officer on a three-leggedhorse, was the old 57th Foot--the "Die-Hards"--ready to exhibit oncemore the same stubborn courage and unflinching fortitude as they haddisplayed at Albuera. Valentine held a position strengthened byredoubts constructed out of dominoes, match-boxes, pocket-knives, andother odds and ends. They were certainly curious fortifications; yetthe nursery often mimics in miniature the sterner realities of thegreat world; and since that day, handfuls of Englishmen have builtbreastworks out of materials almost as strange, and as little intendedfor the purpose, and have fought desperate and bloody fights, and wonundying fame, in their defence. 

"I'm going to be this chap, who takes on and off his horse, " said Jack. "Which is you?"

"Here I am, " answered Valentine. "Now then, you fire first--blazeaway!"

As he spoke he picked up the veteran captain of the solid lead guards, and set him down in the centre of the defending force, and so thebattle commenced. It was still raging when Jane came to say that teawas ready; but the losses on both sides had been terribly severe. Theinvading army still pressed forward, though the "57th" were once moredecimated by the withering fire; and nothing actually remained of the"Coldstream Guards" but a kettle-drummer of uncertain nationality, anda man carrying a red and green flag, which he might very possibly havecaptured from some Sunday-school treat. The opposite side were in nobetter plight: men were lying crushed under the ruins of the workswhich they had so gallantly defended; and hardly enough artillerymenwere left to have pulled back, with their united efforts, the spring ofone of the pea cannons. The leaders on both sides remained unscathed, and continued to brandish bent lead swords at each other in mutualdefiance. 

"Make haste! you've got one more shot, " said Valentine. 

The pea-shooter was levelled and discharged, the veteran lead captaintottered and tell, and thus the fight ended. 

"Val, my boy, you're killed!" cried Jack. "No matter, it's the bed ofhonour, old chap!"

"Oh, I don't mind!" answered the other, laughing. "_C'est la guerre_, you know; come along. I'd no idea you were so fond of soldiers. "

So they passed down to Queen Mab's merry tea-table, unsaddened by anyrecollections of the stricken field, or of the lead commander leftbehind among the slain. 

The two boys talked "soldiering" all the evening; and the next morning, when breakfast was nearly over, and Helen ran upstairs to inquire ifthey meant to lie on till dinner-time, they were still harping away onthe same subject. The door was standing ajar, and she heard theirwords. 

"Don't move your knee, " Jack was saying; "that's the hill where Ishould post my artillery. "

"Yes, that's all right, " answered Valentine; "but you couldn't shell myreserves if I got them down under cover of this curl in theblanket. --All right, Helen! down directly!"

The sun was shining brightly, the fine weather seemed to have come atlast, and the question was how to put it to the best possible use. 

"Why don't you children go and picnic somewhere?" said Queen Mab. "Youcan have Prince and the carriage, and drive off where you like, andhave tea out of doors. "

A general meeting was held in the hayloft directly after dinner for thepurpose of discussing this important question. Jack won a still higherplace in Barbara's affections by hauling himself up the perpendicularladder without touching the rungs with his feet; and though knowinglittle or nothing about such things as picnics, he was ready with anynumber of absurd suggestions. 

"Let's go to Pitsbury Common, " said Barbara; "there's such a lot ofjolly sandpits to roll about in, and we can burn gorse-bushes. "

"Oh, no, don't let's go there!" answered Helen; "there's no place toshelter in if it comes on rain, and when you're having tea the sandblows about and gets into everything, so that you seem to be eating itby mouthfuls. "

"It's so nice having it out of doors, " persisted Barbara. 

"Well, let's go out in the road and sit with our feet in the ditch, like the tramps do, " said Jack. "I'll bring the tea in my sponge bag. Rosher used to carry it about in his pocket, full of water for a littlesquirt he was always firing off in the French class. Pilson had thesentence, 'Give me something to drink;' and as soon as he'd said it, hegot a squirtful all over the back of his head, and Durand--"

"Oh, stop that!" said Valentine, laughing. "Look here! I vote wedrive over to Grenford, and call on the Fosbertons, and ask them tolend us their boat; they'd give us lunch, and then we could take ourtea with us up the river. It's not more than six miles. "

"Don't let's go there, " said Barbara. "I hate them. "

"Is Raymond away?" asked Helen. 

"Yes; didn't you hear Queen Mab say he was going to spend his holidaysin London? Uncle James is rather a pompous old fellow, but we shan'thave to go there except for lunch; and father said we ought to call onthem while we're here; besides, it'll be jolly on the river. You knowthem, don't you, Jack?"

"Well, I've _heard_ about them, " answered the other. "I know that theguv'nor's sister married old Fosberton, and that he got a lot of moneymaking tin tacks, or whatever it was; and now he fancies he's rather aswell, and says he's descended from William the Conqueror's sea-cook, or something of that sort. I don't want to go and see them; but Idon't mind having some grub there, if they'll lend us a boat. "

"My senses! you ought to feel very much honoured at the thought ofgoing to lunch at Grenford Manor, " said Helen, laughing. 

"I'm sure I don't, " answered her cousin. "I'd sooner have a feed inold 'Duster's' shop at Melchester. "

"Well, that's what we'll do, " said Valentine. "We'll take a kettle andsome cups with us, and tea, and all that sort of thing, and go up theriver as far as Starncliff, and there we'll camp out and have a jollytime. "

With some reluctance the proposal was agreed upon. Had the companyforeseen the chain of events which would arise directly and indirectlyfrom this memorable picnic, they might have made up their minds tospend the day at Brenlands. 

CHAPTER V. 

AN UNLUCKY PICNIC. 

"The tom-cat, whom his mistress called 'My little son, ' was a greatfavourite; he could raise his back, and purr, and could even throw outsparks from his fur if it were stroked the wrong way. "--_The UglyDuckling_. 

"Now, Jack, do behave yourself!" cried Valentine, as thebasket-carriage turned through two imposing-looking granite gate-postsinto a winding drive which formed the approach to Grenford Manor. Jack, as usual, seemed to grow particularly obstreperous just whencircumstances demanded a certain amount of decorum, and at that momenthe was kneeling on the narrow front seat belabouring Prince with thecushion. 

"Well, " he answered, turning round, "we must drive up to the door instyle; if we come crawling in like this, they'll think we're ashamed ofourselves. "

As he spoke, a curve in the drive brought the house into view. It wasa big, square building, with not the slightest touch of green torelieve the monotony of the rigid white walls, and level rows ofwindows, which seemed to have been placed in position by some precise, mathematical calculation. A boy was lounging about in front of theporch, with his hands in his pockets, kicking gravel over theflower-beds. 

"O Val! you said Raymond wasn't at home, " murmured Helen. 

"Well, Aunt Mab said he was going to London; he must have put off hisvisit. "

Raymond Fosberton turned at the sound of the carriage-wheels, andsauntered forward to meet the visitors. He had black hair, and a verypink and white complexion. To say that he looked like a girl would bedisparaging to the fair sex, but his face would at once have impresseda careful observer as being that of a very poor specimen of Britishboyhood. 

"Hallo!" he said, without removing his hands from his pockets, "soyou've turned up at last! You've been a beastly long time coming!"

He shook hands languidly with Valentine and the two girls, but greetedJack with a cool stare, which the latter returned with interest. Grenford Manor was very different from Brenlands. Aunt Isabel wasfussy and querulous, while Mr. Fosberton was a very ponderous gentlemenin more senses than one. He had bushy grey whiskers and a very redface, which showed up in strong contrast to a broad expanse of whitewaistcoat, which was in turn adorned with a massive gold chain andimposing bunch of seals. 

"Well, young ladies, and how are you?" he began in a deep, sonorousvoice, of which he was evidently rather proud. "How are you, Valentine? So this is Basil's son?--hum! What's your father doingnow?"

"I don't know, " answered Jack, glancing at the clock. "I expect he'shaving his dinner, though there's no telling, for we're always a bitlate at home. "

Mr. Fosberton stared at the boy, cleared his throat rather vigorously, and then turned to speak to Helen. 

Lunch was a very dry and formal affair. Raymond spoke to nobody, hisfather and mother addressed a few words to Valentine and the girls, butJack was completely ignored. The latter, instead of noticing thisneglect, pegged away merrily at salmon and cold fowl, and seemeddevoutly thankful that no one interrupted his labours by forcing him tojoin in the conversation. 

"You may tell your father, " said Mr. Fosberton to Valentine, "that Ifind his family are related to one of the minor branches of my own;I've no doubt he will be pleased to hear it. His father's sistermarried a Pitsbury, a second cousin of the husband of one of theFosbertons of Cranklen. You'll remember, won't you?"

Valentine said he would, and looked scared. 

The silver spoons and forks were all ornamented with the Fosbertoncrest--a curious animal, apparently dancing on a sugar-stick. 

"What is it?" whispered Barbara to Jack. 

"The sea-cook's dog, " answered her cousin. 

"But what's he doing?"

"He's stolen the plum-duff, and the skipper's sent him up to ride on aboom, and he's got to stay there till he's told to come down. "

At last the weary meal was over. 

"I suppose we may have the boat, " said Valentine. 

"Oh, yes. I'm coming with you myself, " answered Raymond; whichannouncement was received by Miss Barbara with an exclamation of"Bother!" which, fortunately, was only overheard by Jack, who smiled, and pinched her under the table. 

It did not take long to transport the provisions and materials from thepony-carriage to the boat, and the party were soon under way. It was asplendid afternoon for a river excursion. Raymond, who had not offeredto carry a thing on their way to the bank, lolled comfortably in thestern, leaving the other boys to do the work, and the girls toaccommodate themselves as best they could. He was evidently accustomedto having his own way, and assumed the position of leader of theexpedition. 

"Have you finished school?" asked Jack. 

"I don't go to one, " answered the other; "I have a private tutor. Ithink schools are awful rot, where you're under masters, and have to doas you're told, like a lot of kids. I'm seventeen now. I'm goingabroad this winter to learn French, then I'm coming home to read forthe law. I say, why don't you row properly?"

"So I do. "

"No, you don't; you feather too high. "

"There you go again, " continued the speaker petulantly a few momentslater; "that's just how the Cockneys row. "

"Sorry, " said Jack meekly. "Look here, d'you mind showing me how itought to be done?"

Raymond scrambled up and changed places with Jack. "There, " hesaid--"that's the way--d'you see? Now, try again. "

"No, thanks, " answered Jack sweetly, "I'd rather sit here and watchyou; it's rather warm work. I think I'll stay where I am. "

Raymond did not seem to relish the joke, but it certainly had thewholesome effect of taking him down a peg, and rendering him a littleless uppish and dictatorial for the remainder of the journey. 

At Starncliff the right bank of the river rose rocky and precipitousalmost from the water's edge. There was, however, a narrow strip ofshore, formed chiefly of earth and shingle; and here the party landed, making the boat fast to the stump of an old willow. 

"We promised Queen Mab that we wouldn't be very late, " said Valentine, "so I should think we'd better have tea at once; it'll take some timeto make the water boil. "

There is always some special charm about having tea out of doors, evenwhen the spout of the kettle gets unsoldered, or black beetles invadethe tablecloth. To share one teaspoon between three, and spread jamwith the handle-end of it, is most enjoyable, and people who picnicwith a full allowance of knives and forks to each person ought never tobe allowed to take meals in the open. Jack and Valentine set aboutcollecting stones to build a fireplace, and there being plenty of drydriftwood about, they soon had a good blaze for boiling the water. Thegirls busied themselves unpacking the provisions; but Raymond Fosbertonwas content to sit on the bank and throw pebbles into the river. 

The repast ended, the kettle and dishes were once more stowed away inthe boat, and Valentine proposed climbing the cliff. 

"It looks very steep, " said Helen. 

"There's a path over there by those bushes, " answered her brother. "Come along; we'll haul you up somehow. "

The ascent was made in single file, and half-way up the party paused toget their breath. 

"Hallo!" cried Jack, "there's a magpie. "

On a narrow ledge of rock and earth at the summit of the cliff two tallfir-trees were growing, and out of the top of one of these the bird hadflown. The children stood and watched it, with its long tail and sharpcontrast of black and white feathers, as it sailed away across theriver. 

"One for sorrow, " said Helen. 

"I shouldn't like to climb that tree, " said Valentine. "It makes myhead swim to look at it, leaning out like that over the precipice. "

"Pooh!" answered Raymond; "that's nothing. I've climbed up trees inmuch worse places before now. "

Helen frowned, and turned away with an impatient twitch of her lips. 

Jack saw the look. "All right, Master Fosberton, " he said to himself;"you wait a minute. "

They continued their climb, and reaching the level ground abovestrolled along until they came opposite the tall tree out of which themagpie had flown. 

"There's the nest!" cried Jack, pointing at something half hidden inthe dark foliage of the fir. "Now, then, who'll go up and get it?"

"No one, I should think, " said Helen. "If you fell, you'd go rightdown over the cliff and be dashed to pieces. "

"I know I wouldn't try, " added her brother. "I should turn giddy in amoment. "

"Will you go?" asked Jack, addressing Raymond. 

"No, " answered the other. 

"Why, I thought you said a moment ago that you've climbed trees in muchworse places. Come, if you'll go up, I will. "

"Not I, " retorted Raymond sulkily; "it's too much fag. "

"Oh, well, if you're afraid, I'll go up alone. "

"Don't be such a fool, Jack, " said Valentine; "there won't be any eggsor young birds in the nest now. "

"Never mind; I should like to have a look at it. "

Fenleigh J. Of the Upper Fourth was a young gentleman not easily turnedfrom his purpose, and, in spite of Valentine's warning and theentreaties of his girl cousins, he lowered himself down on to theledge, and the next moment was buttoning his coat preparatory to makingthe attempt. 

For the first twelve or fifteen feet the trunk of the fir afforded nogood hold, but Jack swarmed up it, clinging to the rough bark and thestumps of a few broken branches. The spectators held their breath; butthe worst was soon passed, and in a few seconds more he had gained thenest. 

"There's nothing in it, " he cried; "but there's a jolly good view uphere, and, I say, if you want a good, high dive into the river, this isthe place. Come on, Raymond; it's worth the fag. "

"Oh, do come down!" exclaimed Helen. "It frightens me to watch you. "She turned away, and began picking moon daisies, when suddenly anexclamation from Valentine caused her to turn round again. 

"Hallo! what's the matter?"

Jack had just begun to slip down the bare trunk, but about a quarterway down he seemed to have stuck. 

"My left foot's caught somehow, " he said. "I can't get it free. "

He twitched his leg, and endeavoured to regain the lower branches, butit was no good. 

"Oh, do come down!" cried Helen, clasping her hands and turning pale. "Can't any one help him?"

Jack struggled vainly to free his foot. 

"Look here, " he said in a calm though strained tone, "my boot-lace isloose, and has got entangled with one of these knots; one of you chapsmust come up and cut it free. Make haste, I can't hang on much longer. "

[Illustration: "'Make haste! I can't hang on much longer. '" (missingfrom book)]

Valentine turned to Raymond. 

"You can climb, " he said; "I can't. "

"I'm not going up there, " answered the other doggedly, and turned onhis heel. 

Valentine wheeled round with a fierce look upon his face, threw off hiscoat, took out his knife, opened it, and put it between his teeth. 

"O Val!" cried Helen in a choking voice, and hid her face in her hands. Only Barbara had the strength of nerve to watch him do it, and couldgive a clear account afterwards of how her brother swarmed up thetrunk, and held on with one arm while he cut the tangled lace. Valentine himself knew very little of what happened until he foundhimself back on the grass with Helen's arms round his neck. 

"I thought you couldn't climb, " said Jack, a minute later. 

"It's possible to do most things when it comes to a case like that, "answered the other quietly. "Besides, I remembered not to look down. "

That sort of answer didn't suit Fenleigh J. ; he caught hold of thespeaker, and smacked him on the back. 

"Look here, Valentine, the truth is you're a jolly fine fellow, and Inever knew it until this moment. "

The party strolled on across the field. 

"It's precious hot still, " said Raymond; "let's go and sit under thathayrick and rest. "

"We mustn't stay very long, " Helen remarked as they seated themselveswith their backs against the rick. "We want to be home in time forsupper. "

"We can stay long enough for a smoke, I suppose, " said Fosberton, producing a cigarette case. "Have one. What! don't you chaps smoke?Well, " continued the speaker patronizingly, "you're quite right; it's abad habit to get into. Leave it till you've left school. "

"And then, when you smoke before ladies, " added Helen, "ask theirpermission first. "

"Oh, we haven't come here to learn manners, " said Raymond, with a snort. 

"So it appears, " returned the lady icily. 

Fenleigh J. , who had been smarting under that "Leave it till you'veleft school, " chuckled with delight, and began to think that he likedHelen quite as much as Barbara. 

At length, when Raymond had finished his cigarette, the voyagers roseto return to the boat. Jack enlivened the descent of the cliff byevery dozen yards or so pretending to fall, and starting avalanches ofstones and earth, which were very disconcerting to those who wentbefore. On arriving at the shingly beach, he proposed a trial of skillat ducks and drakes, and made flat pebbles go hopping right across theriver, until Valentine put an end to the performance by saying it wastime to embark. The girls were just stepping into the boat when Helengave an exclamation of surprise. 

"Look!" she cried, pointing towards the top of the cliff, "where canall that smoke be coming from?"

"It's a heap of rubbish burning in one of the fields, " said Raymond. 

"There's too much smoke for that, " said Jack. "It may be a barn or ahouse. Wait a moment; I'll run up and see. I shan't be more than fiveor six minutes. " He started off, jumping and scrambling up the path;but almost immediately on reaching the summit he turned and came racingdown again. 

"What a reckless beggar he is;" said Valentine. "He'll break his necksome day. Well, what is it?"

Jack took a flying jump from the path on to the shingle. 

"The rick!" he cried--"the one we were sitting under--it's all in ablaze!"

The boys and girls stood staring at one another with a horrified lookon their faces. 

"You must have done it with your matches, Raymond, " said Helen. 

"I didn't, " returned the other. "It's the sun. Come on into the boat. "

"You must have dropped your cigarette end, " said Valentine. "We oughtto find the owner of the hay and say who we are. "

"You fool! I tell you it wasn't me, " returned the other passionately. "Ricks often catch fire of their own accord. I'm not going to be madepay for what isn't my fault. "

Valentine hesitated, and shook his head. Jack seemed ready to sidewith him; but Raymond jumped into the boat and seized the oars. "Lookhere!" he cried, "it's my boat, and I'm going. It you don't choose tocome, you can stay. "

The two boys had no alternative but to obey their cousin's demand. Jack took the second oar, while Valentine steered. Raymond was readyenough now for hard work, and pulled away with all his might, evidentlywishing to escape as fast as possible from the neighbourhood of theburning rick. 

"What are you pulling so fast for?" asked Jack; but "stroke" made noreply, and seemed, if anything, to increase the pace. 

"Look out!" cried Valentine, as the boat approached an awkward corner, one side of which was blocked by the branches of a big tree which hadfallen into the water. "Steady on, Raymond!" "Stroke, " who did notsee what was coming, and thought this was only another attempt toinduce him to lessen the speed at which they were going, pulled harderthan ever. Valentine tugged his right-hand line crying, "Steady on, Itell you!" but it was too late. There was a tremendous lurch whichnearly sent every one into the river, the water poured over thegunwale, and something went with a sounding crack. Raymond's oar hadcaught in a sunken branch and snapped off short. His face turned whitewith anger. 

"You cad!" he cried with an oath, "you made me do that on purpose. "

"I didn't!" answered Valentine hotly; "and I should think you mightknow better than to begin swearing before the girls. "

Helen looked frightened, but Barbara was sinking with laughter at thesight of Jack, who, on the seat behind, was silently going through themotions of punching Master Fosberton's head. 

"Well, we can't go on any further, " said the latter. "We must get theboat into that backwater and tie her up. Though it'll be a beastly faghaving to walk to Grenford. "

Dividing between them the things which had to be carried, the cousinsmade their way through a piece of waste ground studded withgorse-bushes, and gained the road, which ran close to the river. Barbara lingered behind to pick Quaker grass, but a few moments latershe came racing after them and caught hold of Jack's arm. 

"Hallo!" he said, "what's up? you look scared. "

"So I am, " she answered. "I saw a man's face looking at me. He washiding behind the bushes. "

"Fiddles!" answered Jack. "It was only imagination. Come along withme. I'll carry those plates. "

Raymond Fosberton seemed bent on making himself as disagreeable aspossible. He was still in a great rage about the broken oar, andlagged behind, refusing to speak to the rest of the party. 

"We ought not to let him walk by himself, " said Helen, after they hadgone about a mile; "it looks as if we wanted to quarrel. "

She stopped and turned round, but Raymond was nowhere in sight. Theywaited, but still he did not appear. 

"He can't be far behind, " said Valentine. "I heard him kicking stonesa moment or so ago. "

Jack walked back to the last bend in the road and shouted, but therewas no reply. 

"It's a rum thing, " he said, as he rejoined his companions. "I wonderwhat has become of the beggar. I thought just then I heard himtalking. "

The boys shouted again, and Barbara drew a little closer to Jack. Whether the watching face was imagination or not, she had evidentlybeen frightened. 

"Surly brute! he has gone home by a short cut, " said Jack. "Comealong! it's no use waiting. "

They had not gone very far when they heard somebody running, andturning again saw their missing cousin racing round the corner. Hisface was pale and agitated, and it was evident that something was thematter. 

"Hallo! where have you been?"

"Nowhere. I only stopped to tie my shoe-lace. "

"But you must have heard us calling?"

"I never heard a sound, " answered Raymond abruptly, and so the matterended. 

The four Fenleighs were not at all sorry to find themselves free oftheir cousin's society, and bowling along behind Prince in the littlebasket-carriage. It was still more delightful to be back once more atBrenlands, and there, round the supper-table, to give Queen Mab anaccount of their adventures. 

"I should like to know who that man was whom I saw hiding among thebushes, " said Barbara. 

"I should like to know what Raymond was up to when we missed him cominghome, " said Valentine. 

"Yes, " added Jack thoughtfully; "he was hiding away somewhere, for Icould have sworn I heard his voice when I walked back to the corner. "

CHAPTER VI. 

A KEEPSAKE. 

"He is my own child, and he is not so very ugly after all, if you lookat him properly. "--_The Ugly Duckling_. 

The holidays passed too quickly, as they always did at Brenlands. Jackwas no longer the ugly duckling. Whatever misunderstanding or lack ofsympathy might have existed hitherto between himself and Valentine hadmelted away in the sunny atmosphere of Queen Mab's court; and since theincident of the magpie's nest, the two boys had become fast friends. 

Soldiering was their great mutual hobby. They constructed miniatureearthworks in the garden, mounted brass cannon thereon, fired them offwith real powder, and never could discover where the shots went to. They read and re-read "A Voice from Waterloo, " the only military bookthey could discover in their aunt's bookcase; and on wet days the barefloor of the empty room upstairs was spread with the pomp andcircumstance of war. The soldiers had a wonderful way of concealingtheir sufferings; they never groaned or murmured, and, shot down oneday, were perfectly ready to take the field again on the next, and sowhen the solid lead captain or die mounted officer who took on and offhis horse was "put out of mess" by a well-directed pea, the knowledgethat they would reappear ready to fight again another day considerablylessened one's grief at the sight of their fall. Perhaps, after all, lead is a more natural "food for powder" than flesh and blood, and sothe only time tears were shed over one of these battles was one morningwhen Barbara surreptitiously crammed two dozen peas into her mouth, fired them with one prolonged discharge into the midst of Valentine'scavalry, and then fled the room, whereupon Jack sat down and laughedtill he cried. 

It would be difficult to say what it was that made Queen Mab's nephewsand nieces like to wander out into the kitchen and stand by her sidewhen she was making pastry or shelling peas; but they seemed to find ita very pleasant occupation, and in this, after the first week of hisstay, Jack was not a whit behind the others. 

He was sitting one morning on a corner of the table, watching withgreat interest his aunt's dexterous use of the rolling-pin. 

"Well, Jack, " she said, looking up for a moment to straighten her back, "are you sorry I made you come to Brenlands?"

"No, rather not; I never enjoyed myself so much before. I should liketo stay here always. "

"What! and never go home again?"

The moment that word was mentioned he was once more Fenleigh J. Of theUpper Fourth. 

"Home!" he said; "I hate the place. I've got no friends I care for, and the guv'nor's always complaining of something, and telling me hecan't afford to waste the money he does on my education, because Idon't learn anything. I do think I'm the most unlucky beggar under thesun. I've got nothing to look forward to. But I don't care. When I'molder I'll cut the whole show, and go away and enlist. Any road, Iwon't stay longer than I can help at Padbury. "

Queen Mab smiled, and went on cutting out the covering for anapple-tart. 

"I know you like soldiers, " she said; "well, listen to this. Justbefore the battle of Waterloo, the father of Sir Henry Lawrence was incharge of the garrison at Ostend. He knew that some great action wasgoing to take place, and wished very much to take part in it; so hewrote to Wellington, reminding him that they had fought together in thePeninsular War, and asking leave to pick out the best of the troopsthen under his command and come with them to the front. The duke senthim back this reply, --'That he remembered him well, and believed he wastoo good a soldier to wish for any other post than the one which wasgiven to him. '"

"You're preaching at me, " said Jack suspiciously; "it's altogetherdifferent in my case. "

"No, I'm not preaching; I'm only telling you a story. Now go and findmy little Bar, and say I've got some bits of dough left, and if shelikes she can come and make a pasty. "

Barbara came, and Jack assisted her in the manufacture of two shapelesslittle turn-overs, which contained an extraordinary mixture of apples, currants, sugar, and a sprinkling of cocoa put in "to see what it wouldtaste like. " But the boy's attention was not given wholly to the work, his mind was partly occupied with something else. He wandered over andstood at the opposite end of the table, watching Queen Mab as she putthe finishing touch to her pie-crust, twisting up the edge into her ownparticular pattern. 

"I don't see why people shouldn't wish for something better when theyhave nothing but bad luck, " he said. 

"I don't think people ever do have nothing but bad luck. "

"Yes, they do, and I'm one of them. I hate people who're alwayspreaching about being contented with one's lot. "

"You intend that for me, I suppose, " said his aunt, slyly. "All right;if you weren't out of reach I'd shake the flour dredge over you!"

"No, you know I don't mean you, " said the boy, laughing. "And I havehad one stroke of good luck, and that was your asking me to Brenlands. "

He went away, and told Valentine the story of Colonel Lawrence. 

"I didn't think she knew anything about soldiers. "

"She's a wonderful woman!" said Valentine, solemnly. "She knowseverything!"

The following morning, as the two cousins were constructing an advancedtrench in a supposed siege of the cucumber-frame, Helen came out andhanded her brother a letter. Valentine read it, and passed id on toJack. 

"What d'you think of that?" he asked. 

The epistle was a short one, and ran as follows:--

"GRENFORD MANOR, "_Tuesday_. 

"DEAR VALENTINE, --I want five shillings to square the man whose hayrickwe set fire to the other day. If you fellows will give one half-crown, I'll give the other. Send it me by return certain, or there'll be arow. --Yours truly, "RAYMOND FOSBERTON. "

"Pooh! I like his cheek!" cried Jack. "At the time he said it was thesun; and now he says, 'the hayrick _we_ set on fire, ' when he knowsperfectly well it was entirely his own doing. I should think he's richenough to find the five shillings himself. "

"Oh, he's always short of money, and trying to borrow from somebody, "answered Valentine. "The thing I don't understand is, what good fiveshillings can be; the man would want more than that for his hay. "

"I don't understand Master Raymond, " said Jack. "What shall you do?"

"Well, as we were all there together, I suppose we ought to try to helphim out. The damage ought to be made good; I thought he would have gotUncle Fosberton to do that. I'll send him the money; though I shouldlike to know how he's going to square the man with five shillings. "

A description of half the pleasures and merry-making that went to makeup a holiday at Brenlands would need a book to itself, and it wouldtherefore be impossible for me to attempt to give an account of allthat happened. The jollification was somehow very different from muchof the fun which Fenleigh J. Had been accustomed to indulge in, incompany with his associates in the Upper Fourth; and though it was nota whit less enjoyable, yet after it was over no one was heard to remarkthat they'd "had their cake, and now they must pay for it. "

On the last morning but one, when the boys came down to breakfast, theyfound Queen Mab making a great fuss over something that had come bypost. 

"Isn't it kind of your father?" she said. "Look what he's sent me!"

The present was handed round. It was a gold brooch, containing threelocks of hair arranged like a Prince of Wales's plume, two light curls, and a dark one in the middle--Valentine's, Helen's, and Barbara's. 

"He says it's to remind me of my three chicks when they are not with meat Brenlands. "

"Mine's in the middle!" cried Barbara. 

"You ought to have some of Jack's put in as well, " said Helen. 

The boy glanced across at her with a pleased expression. 

"Oh, no, " he answered, "not alongside of yours. "

During the remainder of the morning he seemed unusually silent, anddirectly after dinner he disappeared. 

"D'you know where Jack is?" asked Valentine. 

"No, " answered Helen; "he went out into the road just now, but I havenot seen him since. "

It was a broiling day, and the children spent the greater part of theafternoon reading under the shade of some trees in the garden. Theywere just sitting down to tea when their cousin reappeared, coveredwith dust, and looking very hot and tired. He refused to say what hehad been doing, and in answer to a fire of questions as to where he hadbeen he replied evasively, "Oh, only along the road for a walk. "

"Look sharp!" said Valentine, bolting his last mouthful of cake, "we'regoing to have one more game of croquet. Come on, you girls, and helpme to put up the hoops. "

Jack, who in the course of his travels had acquired a prodigiousthirst, lingered behind to drink a fourth cup of tea. 

"You silly boy, " said his aunt, "where have you been?"

"To Melchester. "

"To Melchester! You don't mean to say you've walked there and back inthis blazing sun?"

"Yes, I have. I wanted to get something. "

"What?"

The boy rose from his chair, and came round to the head of the table. 

"That's it, " he said, producing a little screw of tissue paper from hispocket. "It's for you. It's only a cheap, common thing, but I hadn'tany more money. "

The paper was unrolled, and out came a little silver locket. 

"I didn't want the others to see--you mustn't ever let any one know. There's a bit of my hair inside. "

"Now, then, don't stay there guzzling tea all night!" came Valentine'svoice through the open window. 

"But, my dear boy, whatever made you spend your money in giving me sucha pretty present?"

"I want, " answered the boy, speaking as though half ashamed of therequest he was making--"I want you to wear it when you wear the brooch;stick it somewhere on your chain. I should like, don't you know, tofeel I'm one of your family. "

"So you are, " answered Queen Mab, kissing him. "So you are, and alwayswill be--my own boy Jack!"

CHAPTER VII. 

STRIFE IN THE UPPER FOURTH. 

"'You are exceedingly ugly, ' said the wild ducks. "--_The Ugly Duckling_. 

School was a great change after Brenlands. The rooms seemed barer, thedesks more inky, and the bread and butter a good eighth of an inchthicker than they had been at the close of the previous term; but bythe end of the first week our two friends had settled to work, andthings were going on much the same as usual. 

Considerable alterations had been made in the composition of the UpperFourth. Most of the occupants of the front row of benches had gottheir remove, while a number of boys from the lower division, of whomValentine was one, had come up to join Mr. Rowlands' class. The LongDormitory was also changed, and Jack now found himself in Number Eight, sleeping in a bed next to that of his cousin. 

Being thus so much thrown together, both in and out of school, it wasonly natural that the friendship which they had formed in the holidaysshould be still more firmly established. Only one thing acted as adrag upon it, and that was the fact of Jack's still finding a strongcounter-attraction in the society of Garston, Rosher, and Teal. 

The quartette began the term badly by being largely responsible for adisturbance which occurred in the dining-hall, when a clockwork frogwas suddenly discovered disporting itself in Pilson's teacup; and it isprobable that Jack would have continued to distinguish himself as ablack sheep, in company with his three unruly classmates, had it notbeen for an unforeseen occurrence which caused him to make a change inhis choice of friends. 

As not unfrequently happens, the few original members of the UpperFourth who had not been called upon to "come up higher" still clung totheir old position at the bottom of the class, while the front bencheswere filled by their more industrious schoolfellows who had earnedpromotion. This state of affairs was not altogether pleasing to someof the old hands. In Garston's opinion, the ideal Form was one whichwould have no top, and where everybody would be bottom; and when thefirst week's "order" was read out, he remarked, concerning thosenew-comers who had won the posts of honour, that it was "like theirblessed cheek, " and that some of them wanted a licking. Teal wasentirely at one with his chum in this opinion, and showed his approvalof the latter's sentiments by laying violent hands upon the person ofHollis, the head boy, making a playful pretence of wringing his neck, and then kicking his bundle of books down a flight of stairs. Hollis, a weakly, short-sighted youth, threatened to complain to Mr. Rowlands;which course of action, as may be supposed, did not tend to increasehis popularity with his new classmates. 

The very next morning the dogs of war broke loose. The boys wereconstruing the portion of Virgil which had been set them overnight. Garston, who came last, had floundered about for a few moments amongthe closing lines, giving vent to a few incoherent sputterings, andevery one was impatiently awaiting the first tinkle of the bell. 

"Yes, Garston, " said Mr. Rowlands, "that's certainly up to your usualform--quite a brilliant display; I'll give you naught. Let me see: Iset the lesson to the end of the page, and told you to go further ifyou could; has any one done any more?"

"I have, sir, " said Hollis; "shall I go on?"

The master nodded, Hollis proceeded, and Valentine, who stood second, also followed in turn with a continuation of the translation. He hadonly got through a couple of lines when the bell rang, and the classwas dismissed. Hardly had the door closed behind them, when Rosher andTeal charged along the passage and seized hold of Valentine and Hollis. The other boys crowded round in a circle. 

"Look here, my good chap, " said Teal, "in future you'll have to dropthat; d'you hear?"

"Drop what?"

"Why, doing more work than what's set. "

"But why shouldn't I?" said Hollis. "There's no harm in it; he didn'tgive us any marks. "

"You young fool! don't you see that if you do more than what's set, he'll think we can all do the same, and make the lessons longer. "

"Of course he will!" added several voices. 

"Just you mind what you're up to, " continued Teal, "or you'll get whatyou won't like. "

"Pass on there! What are you waiting for?" cried Mr. Rowlands, appearing in the doorway of his classroom, and the gathering dispersed. 

The following morning, as fate would have it, nearly the same thinghappened again, only this time during the hour devoted to algebra. 

"Has any one had time to do any of the next set of examples?" asked Mr. Rowlands. "If so, let him hold up his hand. "

Only two boys held up their hands--Hollis and Valentine. There weremurmurs of discontent at the back of the room, and several fists wereshaken ominously. 

Jack had not troubled to side with either party--it mattered verylittle to him whether the lessons were long or short, as he only did asmuch as he felt inclined--but, if anything, his sympathies lay with hisless industrious comrades, who, he considered, had very good ground forfeeling aggrieved with Hollis and his cousin. 

"Look here, Val, " he said, when they met at the close of morningschool, "what d'you want to go and work so beastly hard for?"

"I don't. "

"No, perhaps you don't, because you're clever; but you're always doingmore than you're obliged to, and the other chaps don't like it, becausethey say it'll make Rowlands set longer pieces. "

"Oh, that's all rubbish! It's simply because they're waxy with us forgetting above them in class. I don't see why I should take my ordersfrom Rosher and Teal, and only do what they like; and I don't intend toeither. "

"All right, my boy, " answered Jack, carelessly. "Do what you like, only look out for squalls. "

The latter piece of advice was not at all unnecessary; for soon afterthis, as the giver was strolling across the gravel playground, he heardhis name called, and looking round saw his cousin hurrying after himwith a scrap of paper in his hand. 

"Look, " he said; "I found this in my desk just now, and there was onejust like it in Hollis's. "

Jack took the paper. It was an anonymous note, printed in capitals todisguise the handwriting; and it ran as follows:--

"This is to give you fair warning, that if you will persist in doingmore work than what is set, you'll get a thrashing. The rest of theclass don't intend to get more work on your account, and so havedecided not to put up with your nonsense any longer. "

"It was Rosher or one of those chaps wrote it, " said Jack. "You'dbetter look out; any one of them could give you a licking. "

"They'd have to try first, " answered Valentine, hotly. 

His cousin laughed; the reply rather tickled his fancy. 

Those concerned had not long to wait before matters came to a head. That same afternoon Mr. Rowlands set a history lesson for the followingday. "Take the reign of Elizabeth, " he said. "By-the-bye, there's agenealogical tree at the end of the chapter; get that up if you can. "

The examination next morning was a written one, and the last questionon the board was, "Show, by means of a genealogical tree, theconnection between the Tudors and the Stuarts. "

"Please, sir, " said Garston, "you told us we needn't do that. "

"I said you were to get it up if you had time, " returned the master. "Haven't any of you done it?"

"Yes, sir, " came from the front desk. 

"Very well; let those who have learned it write it down. "

"Val, my boy, " said Jack, in his happy-go-lucky style, as they met inthe dormitory to change for football, "you just keep your eyes open;you're going to get licked. "

Valentine replied with a snort of defiance, and the subject wasdropped. Tea was over, and in the short respite between the end of themeal and the commencement of "prep. , " Jack was strolling down one ofthe passages, when his attention was attracted by a certain small boywho stood beneath a gas-jet scanning the contents of a small book, andoccasionally scribbling something on a half-sheet of exercise-bookpaper. Suddenly the youngster flung down the book in a rage, andkicked it across the passage, whereupon Jack promptly cried, "No goal!"

"Hallo, little Garston!" he continued, "what's up with you?"

"Why, I've got to write out the translation of some of this Caesar forold Thorpe, and I can't make head or tail of the blessed stuff. I say, Fenleigh, you might do a bit for me!"

Jack was a good-natured young vagabond. "Where is it?" he said, picking up the book. "All right! here goes. "

Garston Minor slapped his piece of paper up against the wall, and wroteat his friend's dictation. The translation was not very accurate, butcoming from the lips of a fellow in the Upper Fourth it was acceptedwithout question by the juvenile, and in ten minutes the rough copy ofthe imposition was finished. 

"Thanks awfully!" said the youngster, as he stuffed the book and paperback into his pocket. "Look here, Fenleigh; as you've done me a goodturn, I'll let you into a secret, only you must promise not to let mybrother know who told you. He and Teal and Rosher are going to giveyour cousin a licking. "

"How d'you know?"

"I heard them talking about it. They said, 'We'll lick ValentineFenleigh. If we touched Hollis, he'd sneak; but it'll frighten him ifwe thrash the other chap. '"

"When are they going to do it?"

"Now--some time; they said soon after tea. "

"Where?" cried Jack. 

"I can't tell you; they didn't say. That's all I know. "

Jack exploded with wrath. He had talked calmly enough to Valentineabout his getting licked, and was inclined to think he deserved it; butnow that it had come to the point, he found that the idea of his cousinbeing thrashed was not at all to his liking. Even at that very momentthe outrage might be taking place. The victim was not equal to any oneof his three assailants, and stood much less chance of escaping fromtheir combined attack. 

Fenleigh J. Rushed off down the passage on a wild-goose chase after hischum, but nowhere was the latter to be found. As a last resource, heran into the schoolroom. Valentine's seat was empty, but a boy satreading at the next desk but one. 

"Have you seen my cousin?"

"Yes, he was here a minute ago. "

"Where's he gone?"

"Bother you!--let's see--oh, I know; some one came in to say Darltonwanted him in the little music-room. "

"Darlton never gives lessons after tea. Phew! I see what's up!"

The boy looked up from his reading with a grunt of astonishment as hisquestioner turned sharply on his heel and dashed out of the room. Jackhad his faults, but he was loyal-hearted enough to remember those whohad at any time proved themselves to be his friends, and not to leavethem in the lurch when an opportunity offered for rendering them someassistance. He was a strong boy, but the back desk trio were alsogood-sized fellows for their age. Had it, however, been the whole ofthe Sixth Form who were licking Valentine, Jack in his present state ofmind would have charged in among them and attempted a rescue. 

"It's clear enough, " he muttered to himself, as he turned off down ashort, narrow passage; "that message was a trap to catch him alone. But wait a minute, and I'll surprise the beggars. "

He paused outside a door, and hearing voices within tried the handle. It was locked. 

"Hallo! who's there? You can't come in. "

Jack was too wary to make any reply. He glanced round rapidly, endeavouring to concoct some plan for gaining an entrance. Stoopingdown, he discovered that the key was turned so that it remained exactlyin the centre of the keyhole, anything pushed against it would send itout on the other side. "I believe that bathroom key fits this door, "he muttered, and tiptoed a little further along the passage. Inanother moment he was back again, and thrusting the key suddenly intothe lock he turned it, and forced open the door. 

The room was a small chamber set apart for music practice, the onlyfurniture it contained being a piano, a chair, some fiddle-cases, andmusic-stands, while on the mantelpiece, in the place of a clock, was ametronome that had something wrong with the works. Jack, however, hadno eye for these details; his attention was centred in a group of boyswho were struggling under the single gas-jet, which was flaring away ina manner which showed it had evidently been turned up in a hurry. 

"Here, leave that chap alone!" he exclaimed, plunging into the centreof the scrimmage. "Let him alone, I say!"

"Hallo! it's Fenleigh J. , " cried Garston. "You've just come in time tohelp us to teach this cousin of yours a lesson on the subject of notoverworking himself. "

"Leave him alone!" repeated Jack angrily, giving Rosher a push whichsent him staggering back into the fireplace, where he knocked over themetronome, which fell with a crash on the fender. 

"Don't be a fool, Fenleigh, " cried Teal. "We're going to teach thischap a lesson. If you don't want to help, you can clear out. "

"I shall do nothing of the sort, " returned the other. "You let himalone. "

Both parties were too much in earnest to waste their breath in talking, and the next moment Garston and Rosher sprang on the intruder andendeavoured to force him out of the room. Valentine, being unable tofree himself from the muscular grasp of Teal, could render noassistance; but his cousin, whose blood was fairly up, struggledfuriously with his two assailants. Round the room they went, like acircular storm, wrecking everything they came in contact with;music-stands went over with an appalling clatter, while the back of thesolitary chair gave way with a crash as the three combatants fellagainst it. Suddenly a sharp voice sounded down the passage, --

"Now then, there! What's all that noise about?"

Teal released his hold of Valentine, and springing to the gas-jetturned out the light. 

"_Cave_!" he whispered: "it's old Thorpe!"

It was impossible to continue the struggle in the darkness, and thetumult ceased. 

"He's gone into Copland's classroom, " continued Teal. "Quick! let'shook it before he comes back!"

A rush was made for the door. 

"All right, Fenleigh; don't you think you're going to be friends withus any more. "

"I've no wish to be, " answered Jack. "If you want to finish this outany time, I shall be quite ready for you!"

"It was jolly good of you to stick up for me like that, " saidValentine, as the two cousins hurried off towards the schoolroom. 

"I should have been a mean cad if I hadn't, " returned the other, laughing. "You don't think I've forgotten that affair of the magpie'snest, do you? I don't care a straw for any of those fellows, and itthey want to fight, I'll take them on any day; but they'll have to lickme first before they talk about thrashing you. "

In course of time the dispute between the two extremes of the UpperFourth died a natural death. Mr. Rowlands did not increase the lengthof the "prep. " lessons, and peace was restored. Garston and his twocompanions, however, did not forgive Jack for his interference withtheir plans. Regarding him, perhaps, as rather a hard nut to crack, they made no attempt to renew the combat, but evidently decided to cuthim off from any future enjoyment of their society or friendship. 

Jack, on his part, did not seem to take this loss very much to heart;it only induced him to become more chummy with Valentine, and, judgingfrom the comparatively few times that his name was down for punishment, this change of associates seemed to be decidedly to his advantage. Asthe autumn advanced, and wet days became more frequent, the two boystook to doing fretwork in their spare time; and having purchased arather large and complicated design for a kind of bracket bookcase, they conceived the happy notion of making it as a Christmas present forQueen Mab, and so worked away together, taking an immense amount ofinterest in their task. 

Before the term ended a rather curious incident happened, insignificantin itself, but worthy of being recorded as bearing on more importantevents to be dwelt on at a later period in our story. 

It wanted about three weeks to the holidays, and Jack and Valentinewere returning from the ironmonger's, where they had been purchasingsome sandpaper wherewith to put the finishing touches to their work. 

"I wish it was midsummer instead of Christmas, " the former was saying. "I don't want to go home. I'd much rather go to stay with Aunt Mab atBrenlands. "

Valentine was about to reply, when both boys were surprised by ashabby-looking man suddenly crossing from the other side of the streetand taking up his stand directly in their path. The stranger wore abattered brown hat, no necktie, and a suit of clothes which he mighthave stolen from some scarecrow. 

"'Afternoon, young gents!" he said. 

"Good afternoon, " answered Jack shortly, stepping out into the road. 

The stranger turned and walked at their side. 

"You may not remember me, gents, but I'm Ned Hanks. "

"I don't care who you are, " answered Valentine; "I don't know you. "

"Oh, but I know you, sir; it's Mr. Fenleigh I'm a-talking to. Ithought, perhaps, you might like to stand me a drink. "

"I say, just be off, " cried Jack sharply, "here's old Westford coming. "

The man fell back, and a moment later the two boys raised their caps tothe headmaster. Mr. Westford acknowledged their salutation with a coldstare, which clearly showed that he had seen their late companion, andwas wondering what business two of his pupils had to be talking withsuch a vagabond. 

"I wonder who that fellow was!" said Jack. 

"Oh, some tramp. I never saw him before. "

"But he knew your name. "

"Well, these beggars are up to all kinds of dodges, " answeredValentine. "If we'd waited long enough, I daresay he'd have told methe names of all the family!"

CHAPTER VIII. 

A BANQUET AT "DUSTER'S. "

"It must have been the fault of the black goblin who lived in thesnuff-box. "--_The Brave Tin Soldier_. 

At Easter, Jack and Valentine got their remove into the Fifth, andthere became acquainted with a young gentleman who rejoiced in the nameof Tinkleby. 

Tinkleby was a comical-looking fellow of medium height; he worenippers, and had a perpetual smirk on his lips. 

"Hallo, you two Fenleighs!" he said, coming up to them on the secondmorning of the term; "I suppose you'll join our society. "

"What society?" asked Jack. 

"The Fifth Form Literary Society. "

"What's it for?" asked Valentine. "We're neither of us very literary. "

"Well, to tell you the truth, the society isn't either. It's kept upfor the sake of having a feed at the end of every summer term. "

"What?" cried Jack, laughing. 

"If you'll listen a moment, " said Tinkleby glibly, "I'll explain thewhole matter in two words. 

"The fellows in the Fifth used to run a manuscript magazine. Aston wasthe first editor, and he called it the 'Portfolio, ' because it wasbound up in the case of an old blotter that he bagged out of thereading-room. The chaps who contributed papers called themselves theFifth Form Literary Society, and elected a secretary, treasurer, andpresident. Aston was so pleased with one of the numbers that he sentit to _The Melchester Herald_ to be reviewed; but after waiting aboutsix months for a notice to appear, he went down to the office, and theeditor said that the manuscript was lost, and that Aston ought to haveenclosed stamps if he wanted it returned. Godson, one of the prefects, said he saw a bit at Snell's the fish-shop, where they were using it towrap up screws of shrimps; but that was all rot, and he only said itbecause the fellows in the Sixth were jealous. Well, then, it wassuggested that the magazine should be printed, and the memberssubscribed towards bringing out the first number; but after they'draked in all the money they could get, they found there wasn't enoughfor the purpose, so they decided to spend what they'd got in having afeed at 'Duster's, ' and it was agreed it should be an annual affair. 

"When I was made president I brought out two numbers of the'Portfolio, ' but in the second I wrote rather a smart thing on oldWard, and called it 'The Career of a Class Master. ' It was really sogood I thought he'd enjoy reading it, and so I got another fellow toshow it him; but he didn't properly appreciate it, and cut up rough. He said he would overlook the personal allusions, but he reallycouldn't allow any fellow in his form to be so backward in spelling, and therefore I must borrow a spelling-book from one of the kids, andlearn two pages a day until I improved. He used to hear me before webegan first lessons. It was rather rough on the president of aliterary society, making him stand up every morning and reel off twopages of 'Butter's Spelling-Book. ' And that squashed the 'Portfolio;'fellows wouldn't send in any more papers, for fear they should behauled up in the same manner. 

"But they went on subscribing for the feed, " continued Tinkleby, brightening up. "We didn't let that fall through. It comes off on thebreaking-up day, after the old boys' match. The Sixth are alwaysinvited in to have supper with the swells; but I know a lot or themwould much rather be with us having a blow-out at 'Duster's. ' Well, that's the meaning of our literary society; the subscription is onlytwo-pence a week, so you'd better join. "

The two cousins promised they would do so. Every Monday morning, inthe classroom, Tinkleby passed round an old missionary box, crying, "Now then! pay up, you beggars. No broken glass or brace buttons!" Itwas always a race to get the collection over by the time Mr. Wardentered the room; but the sprightly Tinkleby, who seemed to haveundertaken the combined duties of president, secretary, and treasurer, hurried through it somehow; and each week the box grew heavier, and thehearts of the contributors lighter as they looked forward to the timewhen they should sit down to the long-expected banquet. 

The term passed very pleasantly for Jack and Valentine; and whatbetween cricket, bathing, and the prospect of spending the comingholiday at Brenlands, they had good reason for feeling contented andhappy. Only one thing happened to disturb their peace of mind, andthat an incident of rather a curious nature. 

They were strolling back to the school one afternoon, and had gotwithin twenty yards of the main entrance, when some one hurrying alongbehind them touched Jack on the shoulder, and looking round they foundthemselves once more confronted by the same shabby-looking man who hadaccosted them on a previous occasion. 

"Beg pardon, Mr. Fenleigh, " he began. "I'm Ned Hanks; you'll remember, sir. Maybe you've got a copper or two you can spare a poor fellowwho's out of work. "

"I've got no money to give away to beggars, " said Jack; "and I tell youonce more we don't know you. "

"That's rather ungrateful, I calls it, " answered the man. "I did youtwo gents a good turn last year, and got precious little for it. Imight have made more out of the other party. "

By this time they had reached the school-gates. 

"Look here, " broke in Valentine, "don't you bother us any more, orwe'll put a policeman on your track. I don't understand a word of whatyou've been saying, and--"

"Stop, stop, Fenleigh!" interrupted a deep voice. "What's the meaningof this, pray?"

The two boys looked up and found they were standing in the presence ofthe headmaster. 

"What's the meaning of this?" he repeated. "Who is this man you'retalking to?"

There was a moment's silence, during which the seedy stranger slunkaway, and disappeared round the corner. 

"I ask who is this man you are speaking to?"

"I don't know, sir, " answered Valentine. 

"Nonsense!" retorted Mr. Westford sharply. "I saw you two boys holdinga conversation with him once before. You must know who he is; answermy question immediately. "

"He told us his name was Hanks, " said Jack; "but we don't know him. Hecame up and spoke to us of his own accord. "

"And, pray, what did he want to speak to you about?"

"I don't know, sir, " answered Valentine--"that is--he wanted to begsome money. "

"I don't understand your answer, Fenleigh, " replied Mr. Westford. "Ifear you are not telling me the truth--or, at all events, you aretrying to keep something back which ought to come to my knowledge. There must be some reason for my having twice found you in conversationwith that disreputable-looking fellow. Both of you will not go outsidethe school premises for a fortnight without special permission. "

Jack stormed and raved, and threatened what he would do if they shouldencounter the tramp again; but of the two, Valentine felt thepunishment far more acutely than his cousin. He was not accustomed torows; and for a boy with his naturally high sense of honour, the merethought that the headmaster suspected him of telling a falsehood wasten times worse than the fact of being "gated. "

The term ran on, and at length the last day arrived; a day of perfecthappiness, with no more work, and a letter by the first post from QueenMab, saying that the pony-carriage would meet the train as usual atHornalby station. The prize-giving, with the Mayor of Melchester inthe chair, and Augustus Powler, Esq. , M. P. , and other grandees, uponthe platform, was a very serious and formal business; the Past andPresent match, in which Preston, the coming man in bowling, took sevenwickets, and dear old Clayton, a bygone captain, lifted a ball over theroof of the pavilion, was certainly more interesting; but, at allevents, in the opinion of all those concerned, the chief event of theday was the annual supper of the Fifth Form Literary Society. 

"Come along, " cried Tinkleby, as the cheers which greeted a win for thePresent were gradually dying away--"come along. I told Duster to havethe grub ready at half-past five sharp, and it's a quarter to six. "

"Shan't we get into a row for cutting tea?" asked Jack. 

"No fear, " answered the other. "Old Ward knows where we're going; andit's all right as long as we get back before lock-up. "

The confectioner's shop patronized by the Melchester boys was situatedin a quiet street some five minutes' walk from the school-gates. Whythe proprietor's name should have been changed from Downing to "Duster"it would be difficult to say; but as long as his customers camefurnished with ready money and good appetites, the probability is thatthe former would have been quite content to serve them under anynickname which they chose to invent. 

At the back of "Duster's" establishment was a little square parlour, where boys repaired to eat ices and drink alarming quantities ofDuster's famous home-made ginger-beer--a high explosive, which alwayssent the cork out with a bang, and to drink two bottles of whichstraight off would have been a risky business for any boy to attemptwithout first testing the staying power of his waistcoat-buttons, andputting several bags of sand in his jacket-pockets. In this parlour itwas that the literary society assembled for their banquet; as many ascould find room squeezing themselves on to the two short forms oneither side of the table, and the remainder camping out wherever theycould find room on the chairs, window-ledge, and a small sofa. At theclose of a summer day the place was decidedly hot and stuffy, and thefirst thing everybody did was to pull off their coats and blazers andappear in their shirt-sleeves. 

Tinkleby, as president, took the post of honour at the head of thetable, and hammering the festive board with his fist, called on"Duster" to "bring in the grub and something to drink. " To describethe banquet itself would need an abler pen than mine. The sausageswere browned to perfection, the ices were pinker than a maiden's cheek, and the ginger-beer was stronger and more filling at the price than ithad ever been before, and made those who drank it gasp for breath andfeel as though they had swallowed a cyclone. James, surnamed "GuzzlingJimmy, " distinguished himself by finishing up with ices, and thenbeginning all over again with cold ham and pickles; but at length, wheneven he had finished, there was a general hammering of the table, and acall for "speeches. "

"Well, fire away, " said the president. "Who's going to start?"

"I will, " cried a boy named Dorris. "Gentlemen, I beg to propose atoast--success to the Fifth Form Literary Society, and with it I couplethe name of our worthy president, Mr. Tinkleby; may he live long and behappy!"

This sentiment, though not very original, was received with greatenthusiasm, the company showing their approval of it by administeringto themselves fresh doses of "Duster's" liquid explosive. 

The president, rising slowly to his feet, sticking his thumbs in thearmholes of his waistcoat, and expanding that portion of his body whichcontained his supper, in imitation of the movements of Augustus Powler, Esq. , M. P. , cleared his throat, and began in pompous tones: "Mr. Mayor, ladies and gentlemen, I cannot well express to you the delight withwhich I stand here to fulfil the pleasing duties which you have sokindly called upon me to perform. When I look round on the bright, young faces before me--"

The speaker paused to dodge a shower of crusts, corks, and othermissiles; the owners of the "bright, young faces" evidently resentedthis personal allusion. 

"Shut up, Tinky!" cried several voices. "Talk sense, can't you?"

The president smiled, and readjusted his nippers. 

"I was about to remark, " he continued in his natural tone, and with hisaccustomed fluency of speech, "I was about to remark that I thank youvery much for having drunk my health. You were good enough to couplemy name with that of our society. Gentlemen, I am convinced that theFifth Form Literary Society has a great future before it. (Laughter. )I look forward to the time when we shall not grub here at 'Duster's, 'but dine together in premises of our own. Our friend Mr. James has anice little plot of ground in a soap-box, where he now growsmustard-and-cress, but which I have no doubt he would let to us onreasonable terms for building purposes. But, perhaps, I am looking alittle too far ahead. As regards our immediate future, I intend makinga determined effort to publish another number of the 'Portfolio. '(Cheers. ) Mr. Ward has intimated his willingness to contribute a largenumber of Latin lines written by members of his class; while Mr. SamJones, the boot-cleaner, has offered to place his talented brush at ourdisposal, and produce a grand New-Year's Illustrated Supplement, entitled, 'Christmas in the Coal-Hole. ' Gentlemen, I fear I amtrespassing on your time and good nature. Mr. James, I see, is anxiousto drink another toast. Once more I thank you for having drunk myhealth, and would now call upon you to drink that of Mr. Preston, whodistinguished himself this afternoon by taking no less than seven ofthe old boys' wickets. "

Great applause greeted the finish of the president's speech, andPreston's health was drunk amid a scene of the wildest enthusiasm. Cries of "On your pins, Preston!"--"Well bowled, sir!"--"Order!"--"Speak up!" etc. , rent the air; while the pounding offists and drumming of feet were continued until a game leg of one ofthe forms suddenly gave way, causing a temporary disappearance of halfthe company beneath the table. 

Preston might have been able to howl, but he certainly could not talk, and it was hard for him to follow such a glib speaker as the president. However, the fact remained that he had distinguished himself, andbrought honour to the Fifth Form in general by taking seven wickets;and for this reason his comrades would have been content had he merelystood up and reeled off the list of prepositions which govern theaccusative, or quoted selections from the multiplication table. As itwas, they awarded him a cordial reception, and filled up the pauses inhis disjointed utterances with tumultuous applause. 

"I'm much obliged to you fellows for drinking my health, " began thebowler. "It's jolly good of you, and--all that sort of thing. (Cheers. ) I did manage to bag seven wickets. " (Renewed applause, interrupted by a warning shout of "Look out! this form's going again!")"I was going to say, " continued the speaker, attempting to hide hisembarrassment by pretending to drink out of an empty glass, "that itwas rather a fluke--" (Shouts of "No! no!" "More pop for thegentleman!" and fresh outbursts of cheering. ) "Well, I did the best Icould, and--well--glad you're pleased, and all that sort of thing. (Alarums and excursions. ) I suppose I ought to say something aboutthis society, but, as regards that matter, the former speaker hasrather taken the sails out of my wind. (Cheers and laughter. ) No, Ishould say the _whales_ out of my-- (Yells of laughter. ) Any way, "concluded Preston, shouting to be heard above the general uproar, "I'mmuch obliged to you, and--all that sort of thing--"

It was not until several ginger-beer bottles had rolled off the table, and the rickety form had once more gone down with every soul on board, that a sufficient amount of order was restored to enable the presidentto call on somebody for a song. 

"Sing yourself, Tinkleby, " was the answer. "Give us 'Little BrownJug. '"

The president complied with the request. Mead, a musical companion, ground out an unearthly accompaniment on "Duster's" little, broken-winded harmonium; and the company shrieked the chorus, regardless of time, tune, or anything but the earnest desire of eachindividual to make more noise than any one else. 

When this deafening uproar had at length subsided, everybody was forcedto remain quiet for a few moments to regain their breath. "Now, then, "said Tinkleby, "who's next? What's that? All right. Bos. Jones sayshe will give us a recitation. "

The announcement was received with a groan. Mr. Boswell-Jones wasrather a pompous young gentleman, who expended most of his energiestrying to live up to his double surname, and in consequence was notvery popular with his schoolfellows. He rather fancied himself as anelocutionist; and though he might have seen "rocks ahead" in the mannerin which the audience received the president's announcement, Boswell-Jones had sufficient confidence in his own powers to be blindto any lack of appreciation on the part of other people. He stood upand adjusted his necktie, cleared his throat, and began, --

 "I remembah, I remembah, The house where I was bawn, ("Euh! re--ah--lly!" murmured the listeners. )

 The leetle window where the sun Came peeping in at mawn. "

"Whose little son?" interrupted Dorris. 

"Shut up!" cried the president. 

"Well, I only wanted to know, " said Dorris in an injured tone. "Ishould call it jolly good cheek of anybody's son to come peeping inthrough my bedroom window--"

"Shut _up_!" exclaimed Tinkleby. "Go on, Bos. "

 "He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day; But now"--

continued the reciter with a great amount of pathos, --"I often wish the night Had bawn my breath away!"

"So do I, " mumbled Paterson. "Let's have another song. "

 "I remembah, I remembah, The roses, red and white--"

"Go on, Bossy, " ejaculated the irrepressible Dorris; "you don'tremember it at all, you're simply making it up as you go along. "

A general disturbance followed this last interruption--the audiencelaughed, the president vainly endeavoured to restore order, andBoswell-Jones sat down in a rage, and refused to continue his oration. 

"A song, a song!" cried several voices. "Jack Fenleigh, you knowsomething; come on, let's have it. "

Jack had a good voice, and with Mead extracting fearful groans andgrowls out of the harmonium, he started off on the first verse of "TheMermaid, " a song which he was destined in after years to sing understrangely different circumstances:--

 "Oh, 'twas in the broad Atlantic, 'mid the equinoctial gales, That a gay young tar fell overboard, among the sharks and whales; And down he went like a streak of light, so quickly down went he, Until he came to a mermaid at the bottom of the deep blue sea. "

Then the audience took up the chorus, and yelled, --

 "Rule, Britannia! Bri--tann--ia rules the waves! And Bri--tons never, never, ne--ver shall be Mar--ri--ed to a mer--mai--ed At the bottom of the deep blue sea!"

The song was received with great enthusiasm, and the performers mighthave been kept repeating the last chorus until break of day on thefollowing morning, it Tinkleby had not suddenly jumped up, crying, "Isay, you chaps, it's five-and-twenty past seven. We shall be late forlock-up. "

Every one sprang to his feet. Dorris was the first to reach the door, and being of a playful disposition caught up a bundle of coats andblazers and bolted with them under his arm. A moment later certain ofthe peaceful citizens of Melchester were astonished at the sight of adozen or more young gentlemen tearing madly down the street in theirshirt-sleeves. And so ended the third annual supper of the Fifth FormLiterary Society. 

CHAPTER IX. 

"GUARD TURN OUT!"

"He felt for them as he had never felt for any other bird in the world. He was not envious . .. But wished to be as lovely as they. "--_The UglyDuckling_. 

"It is jolly to be here at Brenlands again, " said Jack, as he satdangling his legs from the kitchen table, and munching one of the sweetpods of the peas which his aunt was shelling. "I've been lookingforward to it ever since last summer. "

"Yes, and a pretty fuss I had to get you to accept my firstinvitation, " answered Queen Mab; "I thought you were never going tocondescend to favour us with your company. However, I've got you allhere again, and it _is_ jolly; and what's more, you managed to turn upat the proper time yesterday instead of coming half a day late, as youdid last year, you rascal!"

The boy laughed. "Oh, well! you may put that down to Val, " heanswered. "He's quite taken me in hand lately, and has been in anawful funk for fear I should get into another row just before theholidays. You know those penny toys you get with a little thing like apair of bellows under them that squeaks--well, I got a bird the otherday and pulled off the stand, and stuck it in my shoe so that I couldmake a noise with it when I walked. Whenever I moved about in class, old Ward used to beseech me with tears in his eyes to wear another pairof boots. I used to come squeaking into assemblies a bit late onpurpose, and send all the fellows into fits. It was a fearful joke;but poor old Val got quite huffy about it, and kept saying I should befound out, and that there was no sense in my 'monkey tricks, ' as hecalled them. "

"So they are, " answered Queen Mab, smiling in spite of herself. "Ishould have thought you were old enough to find some more sensibleamusement than putting pieces of penny toys in your boots. You maylaugh at Valentine if you like, but I can tell you this, he's very fondof you, and that's the reason why he doesn't like to see you introuble. "

"I know he is, " returned the boy briskly. "He's a brick; and I likehim better than any other chap in the school. "

Queen Mab went on shelling her peas, and Jack remained perched on theend of the table, quite content to continue watching her nimble fingersand sweet, restful face. It certainly was jolly to be back again atBrenlands. He was no longer the ugly duckling; Helen and Barbara werelike sisters, and he got on with them swimmingly; all kinds of splendidprojects were on the carpet, and there were plenty of long summer daysto look forward to in which to carry them out. To be a careless dog ofa schoolboy, ready for anything in the way of larks and excitement, andpaying precious little attention to one's books or conduct record, might be a fascinating sort of existence; yet somehow it was notaltogether unpleasant, once in a way, to become for a time a member ofa more civilized and refined society, where gentler treatmentencouraged gentler manners, where hearts were thought of as well asheads, where there was no black list, and where no one would have madea boast of being on it, had such a thing existed. 

This year the mimic war operations were of a more advanced kind thanhad ever been attempted before. A fortress built of clay and pebbleswas mined and blown up; and there still being some powder left, Jacksuccessfully performed the feat of blowing himself up, and in doing sosustained the loss of an eyebrow. In order that this catastropheshould not alarm Queen Mab, the missing hair was replaced by burntcork; but Jack, forgetting what had happened, sponged his face andrushed down to tea, where Barbara, after regarding him for a fewmoments in silence, leaned across the table and remarked, with a wiseshake of her head, "Yes, I see--you've been shaving. "

But what proved a source of endless delight to the two boys was an old, military bell-tent which Queen Mab had bought for their special use andamusement. They pitched it on a corner of the lawn, and were alwaysrepairing thither to read, and talk, and hold councils of war. It wasdelightful to speculate as to what doughty warriors might have beensheltered beneath it; and to imagine that sundry small rents andpatches must be the result of the enemy's fire, and not due to the wearand tear of ordinary encampments. 

Not satisfied with living in it by day, they determined to pass a nightthere also, and would not rest content until their aunt had given thempermission to try the experiment. 

"All we want, " said Valentine, "is a mackintosh to spread on theground, and a few rugs and sofa cushions, and a candle and a box ofmatches. "

"Very well, you can have plenty of those, " answered Queen Mab; "perhapssome day you won't be so well off, Valentine. "

She spoke lightly enough, and with no foreshadowing of a visionarypicture, often to haunt her mind in the days to come, of men lyingsilently under a clear, starlit sky, with belts on, rifles by theirsides, and bayonets ready fixed. 

The two boys prepared to put their project into immediate execution;and in connection with this their first but by no means last experienceof a night under canvas, they were destined to fall in with a littleadventure which must be recorded. 

Shortly before the commencement of the holidays a lot of strawberrieshad been stolen from the garden, and Queen Mab feared lest a similarfate should overtake a fine show of pears which were just getting ripe. 

"Well, good-night, " she said, as she prepared to close the door on thetwo adventurers; "if you're cold, and want to come in, throw somepebbles up at my window. "

"Oh, we shan't want to come in, " answered Jack stoutly. "If you hearany one coming to steal the fruit, you shout, 'Guard turn out!' andwe'll nab 'em. "

The boys settled down like old campaigners. "Awful joke, isn't it?"said Jack. 

"Yes, prime!" answered Valentine; "soldiering must be jolly. "

Half an hour passed. 

"I say, " murmured Valentine, "this ground seems precious hard!"

"Yes, " answered his companion. "I've tried lying on it every way, andI believe my bones are coming through my skin. "

A long pause, and then, "I say, don't you think it's nearly morning?"

"Oh, no! the church clock has only just struck one. "

The darkness seemed to lengthen out into that of a polar winter insteadof a single night. At length the canvas walls began to grow grey withdawn, and Jack awoke with a shiver, wondering whether he had reallybeen asleep or not. 

"It's beastly cold, " he muttered. 

"Yes, " answered Valentine. "I thought it was never going to get light. Look here, I'm determined I _will_ sleep! What's the good of my beinga soldier if I can't sleep in a tent?"

He turned over on his face, and had just dropped off into a doze, whenhe was awakened by Jack, who had reached over and was shaking his arm. 

"I say--Val--who was that?"

"Who's what?" was the drowsy answer. 

"Why! didn't you hear? Some one just walked down the path. It can'tbe Jakes; it isn't five o'clock. "

Valentine rubbed his eyes, thought for a moment, and then suddenly satup broad awake. 

"The pears!" he whispered. 

Both boys sprang up, unlaced the door of the tent, and sallied forth inthe direction of the fruit garden. 

"Don't make a row; walk on the grass border. Hist! there he is!"

There he was, sure enough; a boy about their own age, calmly pickingpears and dropping them into a basket. Jack and Valentine slowly creptdown by the side of the raspberry bushes, like Indians on a war-trail. 

"Now then!" murmured the former, "charge!"

The thief jumped as if a gun had been fired off behind him, and startedto run, but before he could reach the path he was fairly collared. Hestruggled violently, and then commenced to kick, whereupon his arm wassuddenly twisted behind his back, a style of putting on the curb-reinwith which fractious small boys will be well acquainted. 

"Woa! steady now, 'oss!" said Jack facetiously. "Keep your feet quiet, or I shall put the screw on a bit tighter. Now then, what shall we dowith him?"

"Put him into the tool shed, " answered Valentine. 

The culprit, finding himself fairly mastered, became more docile. Hiscaptors, however, turned a deaf ear to his pleadings to be let go; andthrusting him into the little outhouse, turned the key in the lock, andthen began to wonder what they should do next. 

"Well, " said Jack, "we've got a prisoner of war now, and no mistake. What shall we do with the beggar? go for a policeman?"

"No, we don't want to get the chap sent to prison. "

"If we tell Aunt Mab she'll let him go, and he ought to be punished. "

"Of course he does--young villain! It's like his cheek coming here andbagging all the fruit. "

"I have it!" said Jack, suddenly struck with a bright idea. "We'lllick him!"

Valentine hesitated. "I don't like setting on a chap two against one, "he answered. "I don't mind a stand-up fight. "

"Well, that's what I mean, " answered Jack joyously. "Look here!" hecontinued, hammering on the door of the shed--"look here, you insidethere! I'm going to punch your head for stealing those pears. If youlike to come out I'll fight you, and then you can go; if not, you canstay where you are. Will you come?"

"Yes, " answered the prisoner sullenly. 

Twenty years ago a fight was not quite such a rare occurrence atMelchester School as it would be to-day. Jack threw off his coat withalacrity. 

"Now, Val, you watch; and if the beggar tries to bolt, you leg himdown. "

With a dogged look the stranger took up his ground, and on the signalbeing given for the commencement of hostilities, lowered his head, andmade a wild rush at his antagonist. The latter stepped aside, andgreeted him with a smart cuff on the side of the head. Once more thevisitor came on like a runaway windmill, but this time Jack walkedbackward and refused the encounter. 

"Oh, look here, " he cried, in an injured tone, "can't you do any betterthan that? Can't you stand up and hit straight? Don't you know how tobox?"

"No. "

"Well, what's the good of saying you'll come out and fight? What'syour name?"

"Joe Crouch. "

"Well then, Joseph, you'd better take your hook. There's your oldbasket, only just leave those pears behind; and don't come here again, or we'll set the bobby on your track. "

Crouch marched off, evidently astonished at finding himself at libertyto depart. When he reached the gate, he turned, and touched his cap. "Morning, gen'lemen, " he said, and so disappeared. Valentine laughed, and regarded his cousin with a queer look in his face. 

"You are a rum fellow, Jack; you're always wanting to fight somebody. When you get two fellows against you like Garston and Rosher, you go atit like a tiger; and then another time, just because you get hold of achap who can't knock you down, you back out and make peace. "

"Well, " answered the other, "there's no sport in licking a chap likethat. I'll tell you what, I'm frightfully hungry. "

The two adventurers had plenty to tell at breakfast that morning, andthe interest in their capture lasted throughout the day. In theevening the young folks went out a favourite walk through the lanes andfields. Valentine and Barbara were running races on the way home; butJack lingered behind with Helen, who was gathering ferns. 

"Let me carry your basket, " he said. 

"Oh, don't you trouble; you'd rather run on with Val and Barbara. "

"I expect you don't want me. I know you think I've got no manners, andin that you're about right. "

"No, I don't think anything of the kind, " said Helen, laughing. "Ishall be very glad if you will carry the basket, because I want to talkto you. "

"Now for a lecture, " said Jack to himself. --"All right, fire away!"

"Well, " began the girl, looking round at him with a twinkle in her eye, "I want to know why you didn't set Val on to fight that boy thismorning, instead of offering to do it yourself. "

"Oh, I don't know! It was my own idea; besides, I'm bigger andstronger. "

"You mean you did it so that Val shouldn't get hurt, in the same waythat you grappled with those three fellows who were ill-treating him atschool. "

"Pooh! he didn't tell you that, did he? He always lets you know allthe bothers I get into. You'll think I do nothing but fight and kickup rows; and, " added the speaker, with a pathetic look of injuredinnocence, "I've been behaving jolly well lately. "

"I think you're a dear, good fellow for defending Val, " said Helenwarmly, "and I've been wanting to thank you ever since. "

"It was nothing. 'Twasn't half as much as he did for me when heclimbed that tree and freed my bootlace. I wish he wouldn't go tellingyou everything that happens at school. "

"You were saying a day or so ago, " said the girl, slyly, "that youdidn't care for anybody, or for what people thought of you. "

"Yes, I do, " answered the ugly duckling; "I care a lot what you folksthink of me at Brenlands. "

"Why?"

"Why, because you're all better than I am, and yet you never try tomake me feel it; but I do all the same. And I love you three and QueenMab; and I love the place; and I should like to live here always. Butoutside of that, " he added quickly, "I don't care a button foranything. "

"I wish you wouldn't talk like that. "

"But it's a fact. "

"You mean, " she answered gently, "that you've said it so often that atlast you're beginning to believe it's true. "

A few mornings later, when the boys came down to breakfast, they weresurprised, on looking out of the window, to see no less a personagethan Joe Crouch weeding the garden path. 

"I found he was out of work, and his parents wretchedly poor, " saidQueen Mab; "so I said he might come and help Jakes by doing a few oddjobs. You know the old maxim, " she added, smiling--"the beet way tosubdue an enemy is to turn him into a friend. "

The two boys took considerable interest in Crouch, regarding him astheir own particular protégé. Joe, for his part, seemed to remembertheir early morning encounter with gratitude, as having been the meansof landing him in his present situation. He had apparently a greatamount of respect for Jack, and seeing the latter cutting sticks with ablunt knife, asked leave to take it home with him, and brought it backnext day with the blades shining like silver, and as sharp as razors. 

One afternoon, when the boys were lying reading in the tent, Barbarasuddenly appeared in the open doorway, and stamping her foot, cried, "_Bother_!"

"What's up with you, Bar?"

"Why, that wretched Raymond Fosberton is in the house talking to AuntMab. He's walked over from Grenford; and he is going to stay thenight. "

Valentine groaned, and Jack administered a kick to an unoffendingcamp-stool. 

"What does he want to come here for, I wonder?" continued Barbara. "Silly monkey! you should just see him in his white waistcoat and shinyboots--faugh!" And she choked with wrath. 

Raymond's presence certainly did not contribute very much to thehappiness of the party. He monopolized the conversation at tea-time, was very high and mighty in his manner, and patronized everybody inturn. He lost his temper playing croquet, and broke one of themallets; and later on in the evening he cheated at "word-making, " andbecause he failed to win, pronounced it a "stupid game, only fit forkids. "

In Barbara, however, he found his match. She cared not two straws forall the Fosbertons alive or dead; and when the visitor, who had beenteasing her for some time, went so far as to pull her hair, shepromptly dealt him a vigorous box on the ear, a proceeding which sodelighted the warlike Jack that he chuckled till bed-time. 

Every one felt relieved when it came to tea-time on the following day. Raymond had announced his intention of walking home in the cool of theevening, and Queen Mab proposed that his cousins should accompany himpart of the way. 

They had walked about a mile, Jack and Helen being a little in advanceof the others, when the girl caught hold of her cousin's arm. 

"Oh, look!" she said, "there's a man coming who's drunk. "

"Never mind, " answered Jack stoutly; "he won't interfere with us. "

The man, who had reeled into the hedge, suddenly staggered back intothe middle of the road, and stood there barring the way. 

"'Ello! Misser Fenleigh, " he began, "'ow're you to-night, sir?"

Jack stared at the speaker in astonishment, and then recognized him asthe same man who had spoken to them in Melchester. 

"Look here!" he said hotly. "I've told you twice I don't know you. You just stand clear and let us pass. "

By this time the remainder of the party had come up. 

"Why, 'ere's Misser Fosbe'ton, " continued the man, with a tipsy leer. "Now I jus' ask you, sir, if these two gen'lemen don't owe me somemoney for a drink. "

Raymond's face flushed crimson, and then turned white. 

"You've had too much already, Hanks, " he said sharply; "just shut up, and stand out of the road. "

"Oh, no offence!" muttered the man, staggering aside to let the cousinspass; "'nother time'll do jus' the same. "

"Look here, Raymond, who is that fellow?" asked Valentine, as soon asthey had got out of earshot of the stranger, "Twice he's come up to usin the street at Melchester, saying he knows us, and wanting money; andthe last time, old Westford saw us talking to him, and we got into abeastly row, and were gated for a fortnight. Who is he?"

"Oh, he's a lazy blackguard called Ned Hanks; he's always poaching andgetting drunk. He never does any work, except now and then he collectsrags and bones, and sells them in Melchester. "

"How does he know you?"

"He lives close to Grenford, and every one knows me there. "

"But how does he know _us_?"

"I can't say. Haven't you ever seen him at Brenlands?"

"No, never. "

"Well, I suppose he must have found out your name somehow; and he'salways cadging for money for a drink. Don't you trouble to come anyfurther. By-the-bye, next year I'm going to set up in diggings atMelchester. I shall be articled to a solicitor there; and if youfellows are still at the school, we might go out together. "

"Confound that man!" said Jack, on the following morning; "I shouldlike to find out who he is, and why he always speaks to us. I wonderif Crouch knows anything about him. "

Joe Crouch was questioned, and admitted that he knew the man Hanks wellby sight, and had sometimes spoken to him. 

Jack explained the reason of his inquiry. "The fellow's got us intoone row already. Why should he always be bothering us for money?"

Joe Crouch stood thoughtfully scratching his head for a moment with thepoint of the grass clippers. 

"I dunno, sir, " he answered; "but maybe I might find out. "

CHAPTER X. 

"STORMS IN A TEA-CUP. "

"'Are you not in a warm room, and in society from which you may learnsomething? But you are a chatterer, and your company is not veryagreeable. '"--_The Ugly Duckling_. 

At the commencement of the winter term, in addition to being in thesame class and dormitory, the two cousins were thrown still moretogether by occupying adjoining desks in the big schoolroom. 

"Now I shall be able to keep an eye on you, " said Valentine, "and seethat you do some work. "

"Shall you?"

"Yes; Helen gave me special instructions that I was to make you behaveyourself. This is my last year; and the guv'nor says if I do well Ishall go on then to an army coach to work up for Sandhurst. "

"Well, I suppose I must behave myself, if it's Helen's orders, " saidJack, laughing. "I wish I knew what I was going to do when I leavethis place. I only wish I was going into the army like you. Some fineday I think I shall enlist. "

"Oh, no, you wouldn't. What d'you think Queen Mab would say when sheheard about it?"

"But she wouldn't hear about it, " returned the other, with a touch ofhis restless discontent. "No one would hear about it. I should callmyself Jones, or something of that sort. It would be a happier lifethan that I live at home; and what the guv'nor thinks he's going to dowith me, I'm sure I don't know. "

Valentine certainly did his best to follow out his sister'sinstructions, and keep Master Jack out of hot water. The latter seemedto have become a trifle more tractable; perhaps, finding other peoplewere interested in him, he was led to take more interest in himself. At all events, his conduct underwent a considerable change for thebetter, and his name no longer appeared on every page of thedefaulters' book. 

Football was now on, a sport which he specially enjoyed. In additionto this, Garston and Teal had left, and Rosher, who had now joined theFifth, seemed to be increasing in wisdom as well as in stature, and nolonger sought the bubble reputation in official visits to theheadmaster's study. In short, Jack had improved with his surroundings. He and Valentine, in addition to their fretwork, had taken upcarpentry; and on wet afternoons, when idle hands were steeped inmischief, they were always to be found in the shed which had been setapart for the boys to use as a sort of workshop. As far as the FifthForm was concerned, only one incident happened to relieve the monotonyof a somewhat uneventful term; and as one of our heroes was largelyresponsible for what took place, an account of the episode may as wellbe included in our story. 

Jack, it should be said, was not to blame for what happened in thefirst place, his and Preston's share in the business was, as it were, only the effect arising from a primary cause; and for this, the realroot of the matter, Tinkleby was solely responsible. 

"Look here, " said Tinkleby, "those fellows in the Sixth are runningthat debating show of theirs, and they get let off 'prep. ' everySaturday night; wherefore I vote we join. "

"They wouldn't have us, " answered Dorris; "they won't allow any one tojoin if they are lower in the school than Sixth or Remove. "

"Ah!" answered Tinkleby, adjusting his nippers, "but, don't you see, Ishould do it in this way--I should propose that our society beamalgamated with theirs. "

"What society?" asked Preston the bowler. 

"Why, the Fifth Form Literary Society, you blockhead!"

Preston and Dorris both exploded. 

"You seem to think, " continued Tinkleby, with a cynical smile, "thatthe only use for our society is to provide us with an excuse for havinga feed once a year at 'Duster's;' but let me remind you, sir, that itsmain object, according to the original rules, was the cultivation of ataste for literary pursuits among its members. "

"Yes, " added Dorris, "and so you want to get off Saturday 'prep. ' Fireaway, Tinky, I'm with you. "

That very afternoon Tinkleby addressed a large, square envelope to

_S. R. HENINGSON, Esq. , _ _Hon. Sec. Melchester School Debating Society. _

and having sealed it with an old military button, dropped it into theletter-box, a proceeding more in keeping with the importance of thecommunication than if he had delivered it by hand. The honorarysecretary went one higher--he sent his reply by post. It was polite, and to the point. The committee of the debating society did not seetheir way to extend the limit of the rule relating to membership. Theywould be pleased to admit any of the Fifth Form who could obtainpermission to attend the meetings, but they would not be entitled tovote, or to take any active part in the proceedings. 

Tinkleby was incensed at this cool reception of his proposal, andharangued his comrades during a temporary absence of Mr. Ward from theclassroom. 

"They think such a confounded lot of themselves, with their miserableessays and dry debates. I'll bet we could stand up and spout as wellas they can, on any subject you like to mention, from cribbing toastronomy. "

"Of course we could, " answered Boswell-Jones, who had prepared a paperentitled, "An Hour with the Poets, " into which he had introduced allhis favourite recitations, and which he longed to fire off at somethingin the shape of an audience--"of course we could; it's all thatconceited beast Heningson. He thinks he's an orator--great ass!"

"Well, look here, " said Tinkleby, fixing his nippers with an air ofresolution and defiance, "Heningson's going to open a debate nextSaturday. The subject is: 'That this house is of opinion that themoral and physical condition of mankind is in a state ofretrogression. ' We'll go and hear it. Ward'll let us do our 'prep. 'in the afternoon. I've got a little plan in my head, and we'll take arise out of these gentlemen. "

The Melchester School Debating Society, as we have already mentioned, was established for the benefit of the senior boys, who held theirmeetings every Saturday night during the winter and Easter terms inwhat was known as the drawing classroom. It was conducted in a verysolemn and serious manner. Redbrook, the head of the school, took thechair; while on the table before him, as a sign of his office andauthority, a small hand-bell was placed, which he was supposed to ringwhen, in the heat and excitement of debate, members so far forgotthemselves as to need a gentle reminder of the rule relating tosilence. As a matter of fact, the chairman seldom, if ever, had anyneed to use this instrument, though on one occasion some wag removed itbefore the proceedings commenced, and substituted in its place the hugerailway-bell used by Mullins, the school-porter; a jest which greatlyincensed the grave and dignified assembly on whom it was practised. There was a proper mahogany ballot-box. The subjects for discussionalways began, "That this house, etc. , " and the secretary entered in abook exhaustive minutes of every meeting, which the chairman signedwith a quill pen. These details are given in order that the reader mayunderstand the character of the society in question, and be thereforein a better position to pass judgment on the outrageous behaviour ofcertain gentlemen whose conduct will shortly be described. 

On the following Saturday evening, in answer to the formal invitationwhich they had received, Tinkleby and his friends filed into the room, looking very good and demure, and occupied the desk against the endwall, which they entered as though it had been a pew in church. Theusual preliminaries were gone through, and the chairman called on "ourworthy friend the secretary" to open the debate by moving, "That thishouse is of opinion that the moral and physical condition of mankind isin a state of retrogression. "

For a time all went well. The visitors sat as mute as mummies, and theopener sought to justify his proposition by launching out into animpassioned discourse, which seemed rather inclined to resolve itselfinto a brief history of the world, and which the critical Tinklebyafterwards described as containing "more wind than argument. " Touchingbriefly on the statements of the Hebrew chroniclers, Heningsonproceeded with a wordy exposition of the manners and customs of ancientGreece, and from this stumbled rather abruptly into the rise of theRoman empire. Drawing a fancy and perhaps rather flattering portraitof one of the world-conquering legionaries, the speaker thought fit tocompare it with that of a latter-day Italian organ-grinder who oftenvisited the school, and who had recently been had up for being drunkand disorderly in the streets of Melchester. 

"Gentlemen, " exclaimed the orator earnestly, pointing accidentally atthe chairman, but meaning to indicate the unfortunate musician, "is_this_ the culmination of a race of gods? this inebriate, undersized--"

At this point the discourse was suddenly interrupted by a loud andprolonged snore. Heningson hesitated, and glanced up from his noteswith a look of annoyance. He was about to proceed when a chorus ofsnores in every imaginable pitch and key effectively checked hisutterance. With an indignant "Sh--s-h!" the audience turned in theirseats to witness the following astonishing spectacle. At the back ofthe room every one of the half-dozen visitors sat, or rather sprawled, with his head upon the desk, in an attitude suggestive of the soundestslumber; the only variation in position being on the part of JackFenleigh, who lay back with a handkerchief thrown over his face like anold gentleman taking his after-dinner nap. The nasal concertcontinued, and the chairman smote his hand-bell. 

"Firs' bell, " murmured Tinkleby drowsily, "stop working;" while Dorrisbecame suddenly afflicted with a catch in his breath which caused asuccession of terrific snorts, each of which nearly cracked the windows. 

"Here, stop that noise!" cried Redbrook, springing to his feet in greatwrath. "Wake 'em up, somebody!"

An obliging member caught Tinkleby by the arm, and gave him aprodigious shake. 

"Shur up, " growled that gentleman. "Give me back my pillow, 'tisn'ttime to ger up. Hallo! have I been asleep? I'm beastly sorry. "

One by one the other occupants of the visitors' gallery were made tounderstand that they were not in their beds. Jack Fenleigh, however, absolutely refused to return from the land of dreams. He was shaken, pinched, and pommelled, but all to no purpose; his snores only becamelouder, and the style more fantastic. 

Meanwhile a heated altercation was going on between the chairman andthe president of the Fifth Form Literary Society. 

"Look here, Tinkleby, we don't want any more of your silly foolery, sojust stop it. "

"My dear sir, I'm doing nothing. "

"Well, why did you begin?"

"If you mean my having dropped off to sleep, I'm very sorry; but reallythere's something in the air of the place--"

"Haw-r-r-r-r-ratch, " interposed Jack Fenleigh. Redbrook rose from hischair, boiling with wrath. 

"Just clear out!" he cried. "Go on--all the lot of you!" The visitorsdemurred, but being outnumbered three to one, they were seized andhustled unceremoniously out of the room. In the midst of all thiscommotion, however, Fenleigh J. , still continued in an unbrokenslumber, and was distinctly heard snoring louder than ever as hiscompanions dragged him off down the passage. 

[Illustration: "The visitors were seized, and hustled unceremoniouslyout of the room. "]

For the time being this little joke gave rise to a rather strainedrelationship between the members of the Sixth and Fifth Forms. Tinkleby and his comrades were designated a set of rowdy jackasses; andthey replied to the compliment by declaring that a fraternity of livedonkeys was better than a collection of stuffed owls, and advisingHeningson to patent his discourse as an infallible cure for insomnia. Cutting allusions to the "Literary Society" and sarcastic retorts wereexchanged in the corridors and playing-field; and so the feud continued. 

All his classmates were charmed with Jack's share in the performance. 

"You wait, " was his invariable answer to their congratulations; "I'lltake a better rise out of them before long. "

For a time this boast was not considered to imply any definiteintention on the speaker's part to play any further pranks on themembers of the debating society; but at length a rumour got abroad thatsomething _was_ going to happen. Fenleigh J. And Preston had been seenmore than once taking counsel together in out-of-the-way corners, andexchanging mysterious nods and winks. They were known to have spentthe free time between "prep. " and supper, on two consecutive evenings, alone together in the workshop, with the door locked. A great deal ofhammering went on, but no one could find out what they were making. When questioned on the subject, they professed a lamb-like state ofinnocence; and even Tinkleby himself could give no explanation of theirconduct. A fortnight after the delivery of Heningson's essay, thedebating society held an important meeting, the announcement of which, posted the previous evening on the notice-board, was worded asfollows:--

 M. S. D. S. _Saturday, November . .. Th. _ DEBATE. 

"That this house approves of the settlement of all internationaldisputes by arbitration instead of war, "

 _Aff. _, Mr. N. J. CARTER. _Neg. _, Mr. SHEPHERD. 

The members turned up in force, for this time the openers of thediscussion were the two leading lights of the society, and the contestbetween them was certain to prove an intellectual treat which ought notto be missed. Carter's style of oratory was of the impassioned order;he thumped on the desk, and went through the "extension motions, " withthe exception of that awful movement where you bend double and try totouch your toes. It was rumoured that he wrote deep, unintelligiblepoetry that did not rhyme; and if the school rules had not forbiddenthe practice, he would have worn long hair and a fly-away necktie. Shepherd, on the other hand, went in for logic, unadorned by anymovements suggestive of setting-up drill. His style bore a suspiciousresemblance to that of Augustus Powler, Esq. , M. P. He stuck his thumbsin the armholes of his waistcoat, and pushed forward that portion ofhis body which it would have been unfair to strike at in a fight. Itwould be impossible to give here anything like a detailed report of theproceedings. From the moment when the chairman rose to introduce thefirst speaker, every one felt that the meeting would be one of unusualinterest; and in one sense they were certainly destined not to bedisappointed. Carter was in great form; he dealt the desk suchterrific blows that the ink spurted out of the ink-pots, and ran downon to the secretary's breeches. War, he declared, was legalizedmurder, and the soldier little better than a hired assassin. NapoleonBonaparte was far more roughly handled than at Leipsic or Waterloo; anda long list of conquerors, ranging back to Alexander the Great, were, figuratively speaking, torn from their graves and hung in chains. Atlength, having dwelt on the enormous cost of standing armies, and othermore practical aspects of the subject, the speaker concluded with avivid picture of the horrors of a battlefield, and was in the act ofquoting a verse of poetry, when he was suddenly silenced by anunlooked-for interruption. 

 "The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, The rattling musketry, the clashing blade; And ever and anon, in tones of thunder, The--"

Bang!

Every one started; something like a miniature representation of the"bursting shell" had just exploded in the neighbourhood of theblackboard. A boy sitting close by stooped down and picked up from thefloor a small fragment of burnt tissue-paper. 

"Who threw that?" he exclaimed. 

"What is it?" asked the chairman. 

"Why, one of those 'throw-downs. '"

Redbrook glanced round the room in angry astonishment. 

"Look here, " he said sharply, "I don't know who did it, but if any ofyou have come to play the fool, you'd better leave the room at once, for we aren't going to have any more nonsense like we had the othernight. "

The audience turned in their seats, and stared at one another inamazement. Most of my readers will probably have some practicalknowledge of the small, round paper pellets known as "throw-downs, "which explode when flung against anything; and it was difficult toimagine that any member of the select and decorous Melchester SchoolDebating Society would cause an interruption by flinging such thingsabout in the middle of an important discussion. 

"Go on, Carter, " said the chairman. 

"Shan't!" returned the other, snappishly. "I've finished. "

Shepherd was now called upon to open on the side of the negative. 

"War, " he began, assuming his accustomed attitude, and beaming round onhis listeners with a very good imitation of the Powler smile--"war islike surgery. When drugs are of no avail, we are often forced toresort to the use of the knife, and so--"

Another mimic bomb exploded in the very centre of the speaker'swaistcoat, causing him to jump nearly out of his skin. Redbrook sprangto his feet in a towering rage, and as he did so another projectileburst on the open pages of the minute book. 

"Who threw those things? I will find out!"

A babel of voices rose in reply. No one had done it. The door wasshut, the windows were fastened, a hasty search was made in thecupboards and under the back desks, in the hope of discovering alurking enemy; but even while the search was in progress anothermissile went off under the secretary's chair. 

"Who is it?" shouted Redbrook. "Where do they come from?"

"That seemed to fall from the ceiling, " answered Heningson; "yes--lookthere!"

Above the hanging gas-jet in the centre of the room was an ornamentaliron grating, between the apertures of which there now appeared aboutan inch and a half of brass tube, like the end of a big peashooter. Amoment later there was a prodigious puff, and four "throw-downs"exploded with a simultaneous crash in the centre of the chairman'stable. 

"There's some one up on the roof!" cried several voices. --"Stop it, youvillain!"

"How could any one get there?"

"There's a trap-door at the end of the passage, " exclaimed Shepherd. "Quick! we shall cut him off. "

A rush was made for the door, but it refused to open; some one hadevidently blocked the exit from the outside, by placing a short formlengthways across the passage. The drawing classroom formed part of aone-storied building which bounded one side of the school quadrangle. Finding the door closed, Shepherd dashed to the nearest window, andflinging it open dropped out on to the gravel, an example which wasspeedily followed by the chairman and several members of the audience. Breathing out all manner of threats, they ran round through the nearestdoor and gained the entrance to the passage. The trap-door in theceiling was wide open, and communicating with it was a curious, home-made ladder, consisting of an old post, with half a dozen roughcross pieces fastened to it with stout nails. A candle end was lyingon the floor, and with its aid Shepherd climbed up and explored theroof; but the bird had flown. 

After such an interruption it was no use attempting to continue thedebate, and Redbrook and his companions spent the remainder of theevening trying to discover the authors of this outrage. 

The culprits, however, had made good their escape; no one rememberedhaving seen the ladder before, and it was impossible to say to whom itbelonged. The members of the debating society were clearly outwitted;and not wishing to make the story of their discomfiture too public, they determined for the present to let the matter drop, at the sametime announcing their intention of taking dire vengeance on anyirreverent jokers who should rashly attempt to disturb their meetingsin future. Two days later, Valentine was sitting at his desk reading, when he was joined by his cousin. 

"I borrowed your brass ruler the other afternoon, " said the latter, producing something from under his coat. 

"Yes, I know all about it, you villain!"

"I only used it as a sort of pea-shooter. "

"Oh, I've heard all about your little game; Preston told me. "

Jack tried to look innocent, and then laughed. 

"It's no use, Val, old chap, you'll never make a good boy of me. It'sthe old story of the silk purse and the sow's ear. "

Valentine laughed too. 

"I'm afraid I never shall, " he answered. "The joke is that you'realways ready to bring the whole place about your ears with some madprank, and then when a cartload of bricks does fall on your head, yousay, 'It's just your luck, and that--'"

"A collection will be taken at the door in aid of the poor fund at theclose of the present service, " interrupted the other. "Good-bye--I'moff!"

He moved away a step or two, then came softly back, and began to rumplehis cousin's hair; whereupon an exciting struggle ensued, which broughtthem both down on to the floor, and ended with the edifying spectacleof the preacher sitting flushed and triumphant on the congregation'schest. 

CHAPTER XI. 

"OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN--"

"Above all, beware of the cat. "--_The Ugly Duckling_. 

"Here, Val, you're just the man I want! Tell me something to say. "

It was a broiling afternoon. The summer term had once more come round, and Jack, with his coat off, was sitting in a shady corner of theschoolroom wrestling with a letter to Queen Mab. 

"I write to her nearly every blessed week, " he continued, "and theconsequence is I've never got anything to say. I've told her how jollyit is to think that in four weeks' time we shall be at Brenlands again;and now I'm stuck, and I can't get any further. "

"Have you told her how well you've been doing in cricket this season?"

"No. "

"Well, I have; so it doesn't much matter. Look here! RaymondFosberton's outside, and wants to see you. "

"Oh, tell him to go to Bath!" answered Jack, making another stab at theink-pot with his pen. "I want to finish this letter. "

"No, come along, " answered Valentine, laughing. "You must be civil tothe fellow; he's been waiting about for nearly a quarter of an hour. "

"Do him good, " growled the scribe, reluctantly pitching his untidyepistle into a very disorderly desk. "He only comes here to show off. Just because he's in a lawyer's office, he thinks he's a big pot, andall he does is to write copies like a kid in the Lower School. "

According to his own opinion, Raymond Fosberton had blossomed out intothe full-blown man. He wore a light check suit of the very latestfashion, a rosebud adorned his button-hole, and he tapped the toe ofhis highly-polished, patent-leather boots with the point of asilver-mounted cane. 

"Hallo!" he exclaimed; "what the dickens d'you want to keep a chapwaiting so long for? I can tell you my time's more valuable thanyours. Look here! I'm sorry I haven't been able to ask you boys tocome and see me before, but nearly every night since I've been hereI've been engaged. However, I want you to get leave to come and havetea at my rooms on Wednesday, and after that we'll go to the fair. Youknow what I mean. It's held once a year in a big field on the otherside of the town; there are shows, and round-abouts, and all that sortof thing. "

"Thanks, " answered Valentine, "but I'm afraid we can't go. "

"Why not?"

"Because the rule of the school is that no boys are allowed to go toMelchester Fair. Old Westford is awfully strict about it. Two yearsago some fellows went, and had a row with one of the showmen, and itgot into the papers. "

"Oh, rubbish! you can say you're only going out to tea. " Valentineshook his head. 

"Oh, yes, you can, " continued Raymond. "By-the-bye, there's a fellowhere called Rosher, isn't there? My guv'nor knows his people, and toldme to ask him out sometimes; tell him to come too, if he can. "

"We can't do it, " answered Valentine decisively; "while the fair's on, Westford won't even give fellows leave to go down into town. "

"Nonsense!" answered Raymond contemptuously. "You leave it to me, andI'll manage it all right. Now I must cut back to the office. Ta! ta!"

On Wednesday afternoon the two cousins were preparing to start for thecricket field, when a small boy brought them word that the headmasterwished to see them for a moment in his study. 

"What's the row now, I wonder?" said Jack. "'Pon my word, it's so longsince I went to the old man's study that I feel quite nervous. "

The interview was not of a distressing nature. "I have received aletter from your uncle, " began Mr. Westford, "asking for you to beallowed to go and meet him at the station this afternoon at fiveo'clock. He wishes also to see Rosher, so you can tell him that he maygo. Be back, of course, in time for supper. "

"I wonder what brings Uncle Fosberton to Melchester, " said Valentine toJack as they walked away together. 

"Can't say, " returned the other. "I don't want to see him; but Isuppose we must go. Let's hunt up Rosher. "

A few minutes before five, the three boys entered the booking-office atthe railway station. 

"I wonder which platform it is!" said Jack. "Hallo! there's Raymond. "

The gentleman in question came forward, flourishing his silver-mountedcane. 

"Well, my dear nephews, " he cried, laughing. "How are you to-day? Didold Westford get my letter all right?"

"What letter?" asked Valentine. 

"Why, the letter asking for you to come out. "

"But uncle wrote that!"

"Not a bit of it!" answered Raymond triumphantly. "I did it. I had abit of the manor note-paper, and I sent it to our man to post it fromGrenford. Ha! ha! I told you I'd manage the business!"

Rosher chuckled, Jack whistled, but Valentine remained silent. 

"Look here, Raymond, " said Valentine, after a moment's pause, "I tellyou straight, I don't believe in this sort of thing. I'm going back. "

"Don't be a fool, man, " retorted the other. "You can't go back now, orthey'll want to know the reason. Come along to my diggings and havesome tea, and I'll bear all the blame. "

With some reluctance Valentine agreed to go with the party to hiscousin's lodgings. Raymond did not seem on very good terms with hislandlady. The tea was a long time coming; and when at length it didmake its appearance, the fare consisted only of bread and butter, and ahalf-empty pot of jam. 

"Sorry I can't offer you anything more, " remarked the host, "but justnow I've run rather short of cash. Better luck next time. "

As soon as the meal was over, Raymond repeated his proposal that theyshould visit the fair. 

"It's an awful joke, " he said. "I'm going, and you chaps may as wellcome along too. "

"It's all very well for you to go, " answered Jack, "but with us it'sdifferent. Any one can see by our hat-bands that we belong to theschool; and if it gets to Westford's ears that we've been, we shallstand a jolly good chance of being expelled. "

"Oh, well! if you're afraid, don't go, " answered Raymond, with a sneer. "I thought you were a chap who didn't care for anything. Will you go, Rosher?"

"I don't mind. "

"Come on, then; don't let's stick here all the evening. "

The four boys put on their hats and sauntered out into the street. Valentine said good-night, and turned off in the direction of theschool; but Jack lingered behind with the other two. 

"That's right, " said Raymond, taking his arm; "I knew you'd come. "

The evening was always the gayest part of the day at Melchester Fair. Crowds of people from the town and surrounding neighbourhood jostledeach other in the open spaces between the tents and booths, while thenoise of bands, steam-organs, and yelling showmen was somethingterrific. 

"I say, have either of you fellows got change for a sovereign?" askedRaymond. "You haven't? well, you pay, and I'll settle up with you someother time. "

The boys wandered round the field, listening to the cheap Jacks, andthe proprietors of various exhibitions, which were all "just a-goin' tobegin. " They patronized a shooting-gallery, where they fired down longtubes with little rifles, which made the marksman's hands very black, and seemed to carry round the corner. Jack, however, succeeded inhitting the bull's-eye, and ringing the bell, and was rewarded with ahandful of nuts. 

"Come on, " said Rosher; "let's have a turn on the wooden horses, " andthe party accordingly moved off in the direction of the nearestround-about. The steeds were three abreast, and Raymond mounted theone on the outside. A little group of factory boys were standing closeby, and, just as the engine started, one of them thought fit to enliventhe proceedings with a joke. 

"Hallo, mister! how much starch d'you put on your weskit?"

"That much!" answered Raymond, snappishly, and leaning outwards inpassing he dealt the speaker a sharp cut with his cane. 

"Yah! Thatches!" cried the boy, and every time the whirligig broughthis assailant into view the shout was repeated. 

In the year of grace 1877 some traces still remained of an ancient feudbetween the school and the boys of the town. The name "Thatches" hadbeen invented by the latter on account of the peculiar pattern of strawhat worn by their adversaries; while the answering taunt always used inthose warlike times was, "Hey, Johnny, where's your apron?" a remarkwhich greatly incensed the small sons of toil, who usually wore thisgarment. 

"What have you been doing to those chaps?" asked Jack, as the horsesslowed down and the yell was repeated. 

"One of them cheeked me, and I hit him with my stick. "

"Well, we'd better slip away as soon as this thing stops; we don't wantto have a row with them here. "

Unfortunately for the three boys, their steeds stopped just oppositethe hostile group. Jack pushed through them with an expression oflofty contempt, an example followed by Rosher; but Raymond was stupidlyled into a further exchange of incivilities. 

"Don't you give me any more of your confounded impudence, you miserablelittle cads, or I'll give you another taste of this stick. "

The "cads" answered with a shout of derisive laughter, and a few morestraggling clansmen joining the band, they followed after the threefriends, keeping at a safe distance, and repeating their cries of "Yah!Thatches! Hit one yer own size!" and other remarks of a similar nature. 

"We can't go on like this, " said Jack. "They'll follow us all roundthe fair. Shall we charge the beggars?"

"No, " answered Raymond. "Let's go into the circus, and that'll putthem off the track. You fellows pay, and I'll owe it you; I don't wantto change my sovereign here. "

Rosher paid for three shilling seats, and the trio entered the bigcircular tent, thus for the time being effectually escaping from thepursuing band of unfriendly natives. 

The performance had just commenced, and though the display was by nomeans brilliant, yet the boys enjoyed it, and soon forgot the existenceof everything except clowns, acrobats, and trained horses. 

"_I say_!" exclaimed Rosher suddenly, "d'you know what the time is?It's close on nine o'clock!"

"By jingo!" answered Jack, "we must do a bolt. "

"No, don't go, " interposed Raymond; "you can't get back in time now, soyou may as well stay and see the end. If you'll come round by mylodgings, I'll get my guv'nor to write a letter of excuse. "

"I don't want any more of your letters, " murmured Jack, "it's toorisky. We'd better hook it. "

"No, stay; you can't get back in time now, so what's the good of losingpart of the performance?"

After some further discussion, Jack and Rosher decided to remain, andso kept their seats until the end of the performance. It was quitedark when they emerged from the tent, and every part of the fair waslit up with flaring paraffin lamps. They had not gone very far when, as ill-luck would have it, a shrill cry of "Hallo! Thatches!" showedthat they had been sighted by some small scout of the enemy. 

"I've got some coppers left, " said Rosher; "let's have a shot at thecocoa-nuts. "

They stopped opposite a pitch, and began bowling at the fruit. Thefirst two or three shies were unsuccessful; then Jack knocked down anut. 

"I'm not going to let you beat me!" cried Rosher. "Here; mister, giveme some more balls. "

A fresh group of town boys were hovering about in the rear, theirnumber being now augmented by one or two of a larger size. 

"Yah! Thatch! you can't hit 'em! Come 'ere and let's see that stickyou was talking about. "

"I say, " whispered Raymond to his cousin, "wouldn't it be a lark topretend to make a good shot, and knock that lamp over. " He pointed ashe spoke to one of the flaring oil lamps which, fastened to a stake afew feet above the ground, illuminated the line of nuts. 

"No, don't do it, " answered Jack; but the warning came too late. Raymond threw with all his might, and, as ill-luck would have it, theaim was only too true; the heavy wooden ball hit the lamp a soundingwhack, dashed it from its stand, and the next moment the canvas screenat the back of the pitch against which it fell was all in a blaze. 

In an instant all was confusion. Quick as thought Raymond turned, andslipped away between the wheels of a caravan which stood close by. Theproprietor of the pitch sprang forward and seized Jack by the coat. 

"'Ere, you did that, " he cried, "and you did it a purpose. "

The crowd of juvenile roughs closed in behind. 

"Yes, 'e did it, " they cried; "'e's the man. "

"I didn't do it, " retorted the boy. "Leave go!"

Rosher leaned forward, and giving his friend a nudge, uttered the oneword, --

"_Bolt_!"

Jack's blood was up. He wrenched himself free of the man's grasp, andplunged into the little crowd of riff-raff, striking heavy blows toright and left. Rosher did the same; and the enemy, who were nothingbut a pack of barking curs, went down like ninepins, falling over oneanother in their efforts to escape. 

The two fugitives rushed on, stumbling over tent-ropes and dodginground the booths and stalls, until they came to the outskirts of thefair. Then they paused to take breath and consider what was to be donenext. The glare of the burning canvas and a noise of distant shouting, which could be clearly distinguished above the other babel of sounds, showed the quarter from which they had come. 

"Where's Raymond?" cried Jack. 

"I don't know, " answered Rosher; "we can't wait here, or we shall becollared. "

"Didn't you see what became of him? I don't like the thought ofleaving the fellow--"

The sentence was never finished; for at that moment two men suddenlyappeared from behind a neighbouring stall. One was arrayed in a blueuniform with bright buttons, and his companion was at once recognizedby the boys as being the proprietor of the cocoa-nut pitch. 

"Here they are!" shouted the latter, catching hold of the policeman'sarm; "now we've got 'em!"

[Illustration: "'Here they are! now we've got them!'"]

Quick as thought the two schoolfellows turned and dashed off at the topof their speed. Beyond the outskirts of the fair all lay in darkness;a high hedge loomed in front of them. Jack scrambled up the bank, crashed through the thorn bushes, and fell heavily to the ground on theother side. In an instant he had regained his feet, and was runningfor his life with Rosher by his side. In this manner they crossedthree fields, stumbling over uneven places in the ground, scratchingtheir hands, and tearing their clothes in the hedges, and at lengthlanded nearly up to their knees in a ditch half-full of mud and water. 

"It's no good, Fenleigh, I can't go any further. I'm completelypumped. "

Struggling on to a bit of rising ground, the fugitives halted andturned round to listen. The glare of light and noise of the fair hadbeen left some distance behind them, and there were no sounds ofpursuit. The night was very dark, and everything in their immediateneighbourhood was quiet and still. 

"We must get to the town some other way, " said Jack. "Doesn't the roadto Hornalby pass somewhere here on the right?"

"I don't know, " answered Rosher; "we ought to strike some road or otherif we keep going in that direction. "

The boys continued their flight, varying their walk by occasionallybreaking into a jog-trot. At length they found themselves in a narrowlane; but after wandering down it for nearly half a mile, their furtherprogress was barred by the appearance of a private gate. 

"Botheration!" cried Jack, "we've come wrong; this leads to some farm. We shall never get home at this rate. "

Retracing their steps the way they had come, the two unfortunateadventurers at length found themselves on the Hornalby road; but whenthey reached Melchester, and were hurrying down the side street past"Duster's" shop, the cathedral clock struck half-past eleven. 

"Oh, my!" said Rosher; "how shall we get in? Everybody will be in bed. We shall have to knock up old Mullins at the lodge. "

"No fear, " answered Jack. "We must get into Westford's garden, andfrom there into the quad; then we'll try some of the windows. "

The plan was carried out, and a few moments later the two boys werestanding in the dark and deserted playground. Jack made a circuit ofthe buildings on tiptoe, and then returned to his companion. 

"All the classroom windows are fast, " he said, "but there's one on thefirst landing belonging to the bathroom that's open. What we must dois this. Under the bench in the workshop is that ladder thing thatPreston and I made last year. We must fetch it, and you must hold itwhile I get up to the window. Then you must put the ladder back, andI'll creep down and let you in at the side door. The workshop'slocked, but luckily I've got the key in my pocket!"

The scheme was successful, and ten minutes later the two wanderers werecreeping up the main staircase. Rosher had a private bedroom; andJack, moving softly, and undressing in the dark, managed to get intobed without awakening any of the other boys in his dormitory. 

CHAPTER XII. 

"--INTO THE FIRE. "

"One of the little boys took up the tin soldier and threw him into thestove. "--_The Brave Tin Soldier_. 

"Hallo, Fenleigh! You were back precious late last night, " saidWalker, the Sixth Form boy in charge of the dormitory. 

"Yes, " answered the other carelessly. "I had leave to go out to tea. "

The reply seemed to satisfy Walker; but there was one person in theroom to whom Jack knew he would have to make a full confession. Whiledressing he avoided Valentine's questioning glances, but afterbreakfast he was forced to give his cousin a full account of all thathad happened. A dark frown settled on the latter's face as he listenedto the recital, which he several times interrupted with impatientejaculations. 

"I knew you'd be in a wax with me, " concluded Jack, with an air ofdefiance; "but it can't be helped now. You'll never make a saint ofme, Val, old chap, so don't let's quarrel. "

"It's not you that I'm angry with, " answered Valentine wrathfully, "it's that beast of a Raymond. It's just his way to get other peopleinto a mess, and leave them to get out of it as best they can. Isuppose he never paid up his share of the money you spent?"

"Not he. Never mind, we got out of the bother a lot better than Iexpected. "

Valentine shook his head. 

"I hope to goodness you won't be found out, " he said anxiously. "Ifyou are, you'll stand a jolly good chance of being expelled. "

"Oh, we're safe enough. Don't you fret, " answered Jacklightly. --"Hallo, Tinkleby, what's up with you?"

The president of the Fifth Form Literary Society was striding acrossthe gravel, fingering his nippers, as he always did when excited. 

"Haven't you heard?" he answered. "Some one's in for a thundering row, I can tell you. "

"Why, what do you mean?"

"Why, Mullins says that some man from the fair came this morning, andwanted to see the headmaster. He says one of our fellows was up therelast night, kicking up a fine shindy, and set his show on fire; and hemeans to find out who it is, and summon him for damages. Mullins toldhim he'd better call again later on, as Westford was at breakfast. Myeye! I pity the chap who did it, if it's true, and he's collared. "

The clang of the school bell ended the conversation, and Tinklebyrushed off to impart his news to other classmates. 

The distressed look on Valentine's face deepened, but he said nothing. 

"Pooh!" exclaimed Jack, sticking his hands in his pockets, and makingthe gravel fly with a vicious kick. "Let him come and say what helikes. What do I care?"

The school had reassembled after the usual interval, and the Sixth Formwere sitting in their classroom waiting for the arrival of theheadmaster. A quarter of an hour passed, and still he did not arrive. At length the door opened, and Mullins poked his head inside. 

"Mr. Westford wants to see all those gentlemen who are in charge of thedifferent dormitories--now, at once, in his study. "

A murmur of surprise followed the announcement, as the boys indicatedrose to their feet and prepared to obey the summons. On entering thestudy they found a shabby-looking man standing just inside the door, who eyed them all narrowly as they came in. The headmaster sat at hiswriting-table looking stern and troubled. The twelve prefects arrangedthemselves in a semicircle, and stood silently waiting and wonderingwhat could have happened. 

"You say this took place about a quarter past ten?"

"Yes, sir, " answered the man, twirling his hat with his fingers. "Asnear as I can say, it must have been about a quarter a'ter ten. "

"I have sent for you, " continued Mr. Westford, turning to the group ofsenior scholars, "to know if any of the boys were absent from any ofthe dormitories at the usual bed-time. "

"One was absent from Number Five, sir, " said Walker. 

"Who?"

"Fenleigh J. , sir. "

"Why didn't you report him? What time did he return?"

"I don't know, sir. I was asleep when he came back. He said he'd hadleave to go out to tea. "

"Was any one else absent from any of the rooms? Very well. You maygo. Redbrook, send Fenleigh J. To me at once. "

A minute or so later the culprit entered the room. 

"That's the young feller I want!" exclaimed the stranger. "I couldtell him anywheres in a moment. "

"Fenleigh, were you at the fair last night?"

"Yes, sir. "

"What were you doing there? You know my orders?"

The boy was silent. 

"I can tell you what he was doing, " interrupted the man. "He knockedover one of my lamps and set my screen afire; and a'ter that he startedfightin', and I was obliged to fetch a p'liceman. But there was two of'em, this one and another. "

"Did this really happen, Fenleigh?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Who else was with you?"

"My cousin, Raymond Fosberton. It was he who knocked over the lamp. "

"That's a lie!" interrupted the man. "It was you done it. I seed youwith my own eyes. "

"I don't think I need detain you any longer, " said Mr. Westford, turning to the owner of the cocoa-nuts. "I need hardly say I regretthat one of my scholars should be capable of such conduct. I shallmake some further inquiries, and if you will call again this evening, whatever damage has been done shall be made good. "

The man knuckled his forehead and withdrew. Jack was left alone withhis judge, and felt that the case was ended. 

"Now, sir, " said the latter, in a cold, rasping tone, "you havesucceeded in bringing public disgrace on the school, and I hope you aresatisfied. Go to the little music-room, and remain there for thepresent. "

There was something ominous in the brevity of this reprimand. Nopunishment had been mentioned, but in the school traditions the littlemusic-room was looked upon as a sort of condemned cell. Every one knewthe subsequent fate of boys who had been sent there on previousoccasions; and in a short time the news was in everybody's mouth thatFenleigh J. Was going to be expelled. It was a grave offence to holdany communication with a person undergoing solitary confinement, yet, before Jack had been very long a prisoner, a pebble hit the window, andlooking out he saw Rosher. 

"I say, " began the latter dolefully, "I'm awfully sorry you've beenfound out. If you like, I'll go and tell Westford I was with you. "

"Of course you won't. What's the good?"

"Well, I thought perhaps you'd think I was a sneak if I didn't. I'mafraid you'll get the sack, " continued Rosher sadly. "It was awfullygood of you, Fenleigh, not to split; you always were a brick. I say, we were rather chummy when you first came, if you remember; and then wehad a bit of a row. I suppose it don't matter now. If you like, I'llwrite you when you get home. "

It was something, at such an hour, to have the sympathy and friendshipeven of a scapegrace like Rosher. The prisoner said "it didn'tmatter, " and so they parted. 

For some time Jack wandered round the little room, swinging the blindcords, and trifling with the broken-down metronome on the mantelpiece. It was this very instrument that had been upset when he sent Roshersprawling into the fireplace; and yet, here was the same fellow talkingabout keeping up a correspondence. A litter of torn music lay on thetop of the piano; among it a tattered hymn-book. Jack turned over thepages until he came to "Hark, hark, my soul!" and then, sitting down, played the air through several times with one finger. It was a tunethat had been popular on Sunday evenings at Brenlands, and the childrenhad always called it Queen Mab's hymn. 

Jack shut the book with a bang. In less than a fortnight's time heought to have been with her again, and what would she think of him now?

 * * * * *

Dinner was over in the big hall, and most of the boys had started forthe playing-field. Mr. Ward sat correcting exercises in the desertedFifth Form classroom, when there was a knock at the door, and Valentineentered. 

"Well, Fenleigh, " said the master kindly, "what do you want?"

"I came to speak to you, sir, about my cousin Jack. Don't you thinkthere's any chance of getting Mr. Westford to let him off?"

"I'm afraid there isn't. I don't see what excuse can be offered foryour cousin's conduct. "

"But there is an excuse, sir, " persisted Valentine, his love of honourand justice causing the blood to mount to his cheeks at therecollection of Raymond Fosberton's share in the adventure. "It wasnot all Jack's fault, and it'll be an awful shame if he's expelled. "

Had it been another fellow, Mr. Ward might have pooh-poohed theobjection, and sent the speaker about his business; for, it beingnearly the end of the term, the master had plenty of work to occupy hisattention. He was not given to making favourites among his pupils, butValentine was a boy who had won his respect; and so he laid down hispen to continue the conversation. 

"I still fail to see what can be said on your cousin's behalf. If itwas not his fault, who then is to blame?"

Valentine hastily recounted all that had happened on the previousafternoon. He did not hesitate to give a true account of the bogusinvitation, and repeated all that Jack had told him as to what hadtaken place at the fair. Mr. Ward listened patiently till he had heardthe whole of the story. 

"There certainly is something in what you say, " he remarked. "But thefact remains that your cousin went to the fair in defiance of theschool rules. There was no reason at all why he should have gone. Yousay you came back; then why couldn't he have done the same?"

"If I'd thought that my staying away would have made it any the worsefor him, I'd have gone to the fair myself, " said Valentine desperately. 

Mr. Ward smiled. 

"Well, what do you want me to do?" he asked. "I don't see that I canbe of much service to you in the matter. The only thing I can adviseyou to do is to go to Mr. Westford, and tell him exactly what you havetold me. "

"I thought perhaps you might say a word for him too, sir, " pleaded theboy. "He's been behaving a lot better lately than he used to do. "

"There certainly was some room for improvement, " returned the master, laughing. "Well, if you like to come to me again just before school, I'll go with you and speak to Mr. Westford. "

The long summer afternoon dragged slowly away. Mullins brought Jackhis dinner; and after that had been consumed, he sought to while awaythe hours of captivity by reading a tattered text-book on harmony, andstrumming tunes with one finger on the piano. He wondered whether hewould be sent away that evening or the following morning. 

At length, just before the second tea-bell rang, the school porter oncemore appeared, this time to inform the prisoner that the headmasterwished to see him in his study. Mr. Westford sat at his table writinga letter, and received his visitor in grim silence. 

"I've sent for you, sir, " he said at length, "to tell you that I havebeen given to understand that you were not altogether to blame for whathappened yesterday. There is, however, no excuse for your having setme at defiance by breaking the strict rule I laid down that no boy wasto attend the fair. As I have already said, I believe you are notsolely responsible for the disgraceful behaviour of which I received acomplaint this morning. I shall not, therefore, expel you at once, asI at first intended, but I am writing to your father to inform him thatyour conduct is so far from satisfactory that I must ask him to removeyou at the end of the present term. Until then, remember you are notto go beyond the gates without my permission. "

"Well, I've got off better than I expected, " said Jack, as he walked upand down the quadrangle, talking matters over with his cousin. "It wasjolly good of you, Val, to go and speak up for me to the old man. Wardtold me all about it. If it hadn't been for that, I should have beenexpelled at once. You've always been a good friend to me ever since Icame here. "

"I'm sorry to think you're going at all, " returned the other. "I can'thelp feeling awfully mad with Raymond. "

"Yes, " answered Jack, "it wasn't all my fault; but there, it's just myluck. The guv'nor'll be in a fine wax; but I don't care. Only onething I'm sorry for, and that is that this'll be my last holidays atBrenlands. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

A ROBBERY AT BRENLANDS. 

"So at last he ran away, frightening the little birds in the hedge ashe flew over the palings. 'They are afraid of me, because I am sougly, ' he said. So he closed his eyes, and flew still further. "--_TheUgly Duckling_. 

Whatever changes and alterations might take place in the outside world, Brenlands seemed always to remain the same. Coming there again andagain for their August holidays, the children grew to think of it as aplace blessed with eternal summer, where the flowers and green leavesnever faded from one year's end to another, and such a thing as a cold, foggy winter day, with the moisture dripping from the trees, and theslush of slowly melting snow upon the ground, was a thing which couldnever have been possible, even in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. Better still, the welcome which greeted them on their arrival wasalways as warm as on previous occasions, and never fell one singledegree during the whole of the visit. 

In spite of all this, on that glad day when Queen Mab's court gatheredonce more round her cosy tea-table, Jack was not in his usual spirits, but appeared silent and depressed. The result of Mr. Westford's letterto his father had been a reply to the effect that, as he seemeddetermined to waste his opportunities at school, it would be decidedlythe best thing for him to come home and find some more profitableemployment for his time. 

When tea was over he strolled out into the garden, and wandered moodilyup and down the trim, box-bordered paths. To realize that one has donewith school life for ever, that the book, as it were, is closed, andthe familiar pages only to be turned again in memory, is enough to makeany boy thoughtful; but it was not this exactly that weighed uponJack's mind. He had grown to love Queen Mab and his cousins; thethought of being different from them became distasteful; and he hadentertained some vague notion of turning over a new leaf, and becominga respectable member of society. Now all his half-formed resolutionshad come to the ground like a house of cards, and he was ending upworse than he had begun. 

He was standing staring gloomily at the particular pear-tree whichmarked the scene of his and Valentine's first encounter with JoeCrouch, when his aunt came out and joined him. 

"Well, Jack, and so you've left school for good?"

She made no mention of the Melchester fair incident, though Jackhimself had sent her all particulars. He wished she would lecture him, for somehow her forbearance in not referring to the subject was worsethan a dozen reproofs. 

"Yes, aunt, they've thrown me out at last!"

"It will be dreadful when both of you have left Melchester. Valentinetells me that next Easter he expects to be going on to an army coach, to prepare for Sandhurst. "

"Yes, I know, " answered Jack, petulantly. "I'm always telling him whata lucky dog he is. I wish I had half his chances, and was going intothe army, instead of back to that miserable Padbury. "

"What does your father mean you to do?"

"Oh, he's got some scheme of sending me into the office of some metalworks there. He says it's about all I'm good for, and he hasn't anymoney to put me in the way of learning a profession. But, " added theboy impatiently, "he knows I hate the idea of grubbing away at a deskall day. I want to be a soldier. "

"I know you do, and I believe you'd make a good one; but, after all, itwould be a sad thing if every one devoted themselves to learning tofight. Besides, we can't afford to let all our gallants go to thewars; we want some to stay behind and do brave things in their dailylife at home. "

"Well, I'm not going to rust all my life in an office, " answered Jackdoggedly. "Rather than do that, I'll go off somewhere and enlist. "

Queen Mab looked down and smiled. They were walking together arm inarm, and he was fumbling with the little bunch of trinkets on her watchchain. 

"Do you recollect who gave me that little silver locket?"

"Yes, " he answered, with a pouting smile. 

"Well, then, please to remember that you are always going to be my ownboy, and so don't talk any more about such things as running away andenlisting. "

"Yes, but what am I to do? Look at the difference between my chancesand Val's. "

"I think that a man's success often depends more on himself, and lesson circumstances, than you imagine, " she answered. "'To be born in aduck's nest, in a farmyard, is of no consequence to a bird if it ishatched from a swan's egg. ' That's what the story says that I used totell the children. "

Jack laughed, and shook his head. He was far from being convinced ofthe truth of this statement. 

A few mornings later the usual harmony of the breakfast-table wasdisturbed by the arrival of a letter from Raymond Fosberton. 

"He writes, " said Miss Fenleigh, "to say that his father and mother aregoing away on a visit, and so he wants to come here for a few days. "

The announcement was received with a chorus of groans. 

"I wonder he has the cheek to come, after the way he treated us atMelchester, " said Valentine; "I never wish to see him again. "

Raymond did come, however, and instead of being at all abashed at therecollection of the termination of his tea-party, he was, if anything, more uppish than ever. It was only natural that he should make somereference to their adventure at the fair, and this he did by blamingJack for not having made good his escape. 

"Why didn't you run for it sooner, you duffer? You stood still therelike a stuffed monkey, and wouldn't move till the man collared you. "

"And you ran so far and so fast, " retorted Jack, "that you couldn't getback to own up it was your doing, and save me from being expelled. "

"Oh, go on! it isn't so bad as that, " answered Raymond airily. "Youought to be jolly glad you're going to get out of that place. It's nogood quarrelling over spilt milk. --Look here, will either of you do achap a friendly turn? Can you lend me some money? I want a pound ortwo rather badly. Of course, I'd have got it from home, only theguv'nor's away. "

Jack and Valentine shook their heads. 

"Well, I wish you could, " continued the other. "I'd give you ashilling in the pound interest, and pay you back for certain at the endof next month. "

"I wonder how it is, " said Jack to Valentine that evening as they wereundressing, "that Raymond's always wanting money, and never seems tohave any. His people are rich enough, and I should think they make hima good allowance. "

"Of course they do, " answered Valentine, "but he throws it awaysomehow; and he's the most selfish fellow in the world, and neverspends a halfpenny on any one but himself. "

Raymond was certainly no great addition to the party at Brenlands. Hismanners, one could well imagine, resembled those of the ferociousanimal in the Fosberton crest, which capered on a sugar-stick with itstongue stuck out of its mouth, as though it were making faces at theworld in general. He monopolized the conversation at table, votedcroquet a bore, and spent most of his time lying under a tree smokingand reading a novel. He fell foul of Joe Crouch (who still came to doodd jobs in the garden) over some trifling matter, calling him animpudent blockhead, and telling Miss Fenleigh in a lofty manner that"he would never allow such a cheeky beggar to be hanging about thepremises at Grenford. "

"I am sick of the fellow, " said Valentine to Helen that same evening. "I wish he wouldn't come here during the holidays; it spoils the wholething. "

On the following day Raymond was destined to give his cousins stillmore reason for wishing that he had not favoured Brenlands with avisit. At dinner he was full of a project for borrowing a gun, andhaving some target practice in the garden. 

"I know a man living not far away who's got a nice, little, single-barrelled muzzle-loader. We might borrow it, and make somebullets, then stick up a piece of board against that hedge at the endof the long path, and have a regular shooting match. "

"Oh, I don't want any guns here!" said Queen Mab. "I should be afraidthat one of you might get hurt. You'd far better stick to yourcroquet. "

"Yes, " added Valentine. "It would be precious risky work firingbullets about in this garden with a muzzle-loader. "

"Pooh! you're a nice chap to think of being a soldier, if you're afraidof letting off a gun!"

"Val knows a lot more about guns than you do, " broke in Jack. "Isuppose you think a thorn hedge and a bit of board would stop a bullet, you duffer!"

Raymond lost his temper, and the discussion was carried on in a mannerwhich was more spirited than polite. 

"Come, come, " interposed Queen Mab, "I think we might change thesubject. I'm sure Raymond won't want to borrow the gun if he knows itwould make me nervous. "

The meal was finished in silence. Anything so near a quarrel had neverbeen known before at Brenlands, and proved very disturbing in what wasusually such a peaceful atmosphere. 

Jack sauntered out into the garden in no very tranquil frame of mind. Joe Crouch was there, weeding. They had always been good friends eversince the pear incident, and something in Jack's mode of action on thatoccasion seemed to have gained for him an abiding corner in Crouch'srespect and affections. 

"Well, Joe, what's the news?"

"Nothing particular that I knows of, sir, but there--there wassomethin' I had to tell you; somethin' about this 'ere young bloke whocomes orderin' every one around, as if the place was his own. "

"What's that?"

"Why, I'll tell you, " continued Crouch, lowering his voice in asignificant manner. "You remember, sir, you was askin' me this timelast year about a man called Hanks, who'd come up to you wantin' money, and you didn't know 'ow he'd got to know you. Well, he's in jail nowfor stealing fowls; but I seen him a month or so back, and got to knowall about the whole business. "

The speaker paused to increase the interest of his story. 

"Well, what was it?"

"D'you remember, sir, about two years agone you and Master Valentineand the young ladies went up the river to a place called Starncliff?Well, Hanks said he saw you there, and that you set some one's rickafire. He wasn't sure which of you done it, but he had a word withMaster Fosberton as you was comin' 'ome, and he told him it was you twohad been smokin', but that you were his cousins, and he didn't want toget you into a row; so he said he'd give Hanks five shillings to holdhis tongue, and promised he'd speak to you, and between you you'd makeit up to something more, and that's why Hanks was always botherin' ofyou for money. "

Jack's wrath, which had been quickly rising to boiling point during therecital of this narrative, now fairly bubbled over. 

"What a lie!" he exclaimed. "What a mean cad the fellow is! Why, heset the rick on fire himself!"

"I just thought as much, " said Joe. 

"Yes, and that's not all. He knew we got into a row at school throughthe man talking to us; and then last summer, when the man was drunk, and met us in the road, he pretended he couldn't tell how it was thefellow knew our names!"

"Well, 'ere he is, " interrupted Joe Crouch; "and if I was you, I'd justgive him a bit of my mind!"

Raymond came sauntering across the lawn. 

"I say, " he exclaimed, "what a place this is! Fancy not being allowedto let off a gun. It's just what you might have expected from an oldmaid like Aunt Mabel, but I should have thought Valentine would havehad more pluck. A fine sort of soldier he'll make--the milksop!"

Raymond Fosberton had for some time been running up an account in hiscousin's bad books. This speech was the final entry, and caused Jackto demand an immediate settlement. 

"Look here, " he began, trembling with indignation, "don't you speaklike that to me about Aunt Mab or Valentine, He's got a jolly sightmore pluck than you have, you coward! If you want to begin callingnames, I'll tell you yours--you're a liar and a sneak!"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean what I say. I know all your little game, and it's no good yourtrying to keep it dark any longer. You told Hanks that Val and I hadset that rick on fire, and so got us into a row through the man'sspeaking to us at Melchester. And last year, when we met him, you madeout you didn't know why he should be always pestering us for money. "

Raymond's face turned pale, but he made no attempt to deny theaccusation. 

"That was one of your cowardly tricks. Another was when you ran awayafter knocking that lamp over at the fair, the other day, and leftRosher and me to get out of the bother as best we could. That was whatpractically got me thrown out of the school. For two pins I'd punchyour head, you miserable tailor's dummy!"

It was hardly likely that a fashionable young man like Master RaymondFosberton would stand such language from a school-boy two years hisjunior. 

"I should like to see you!" he remarked. "Two can play at that game. "

The speaker did not know the person he was addressing; in anothermoment his request was granted. Jack came at him like a tiger, put allthe force of his outraged feelings into a heavy right and left, andRaymond Fosberton disappeared with a great crash into a laurel bush. 

Joe Crouch rose from his knees with a joyful exclamation, wiping hishands on his apron. "I should have liked to have had a cut in myself, "he afterwards remarked, "but Master Jack he managed it all splendid!"

Whatever Joseph's wishes may have been, he had no opportunity of takingpart in the proceedings; for, before the contest could be renewed, Helen rushed across the lawn and caught Jack by the arm. 

"Oh, don't fight!" she cried breathlessly. "What is the matter?"

"Ask him!" answered Jack shortly, nodding with his fists stillclenched, in the direction of Fosberton, who was in the act of emergingfrom the depths of the laurel bush. "Ask him, he knows. "

"He called me a liar!" answered Fosberton; "and then rushed up and hitme when I was unprepared, the cad!"

This assertion very nearly brought on a renewal of the contest, but thespeaker knew that Helen's presence would prevent any more blows beingstruck. Jack watched his adversary with a look of contempt, as thelatter wiped the blood from his cut lip. 

"Yes, I said you were a liar and a coward. "

"Oh, hush!" said the girl, laying her hand on her cousin's mouth. "Don't quarrel any longer; it's dreadful here, at Brenlands! Whatwould Aunt Mabel say if she knew you'd been fighting? Come away, Jack, and don't say any more. "

The boy would have liked to stay behind for another private interviewwith Raymond, but for Helen's sake he turned on his heel and followedher into the house. 

"All right, my boy, " muttered Raymond, looking after the retreatingfigures with a savage scowl on his face, "I'll be even with you someday, if ever I get the chance. "

There was a great lack of the usual mirth and gaiety at the tea-tablethat evening. Every one knew what had happened, and in their anxietyto avoid any reference to the painful subject conversation flagged, andeven Queen Mab's attempts to enliven the assembly for once proved afailure. Neither of the boys would have been at all shocked at seeinga row settled by an exchange of blows, had the dispute taken place atschool; but here, at Brenlands, it seemed a different matter--bad bloodand rough language were out of keeping with the place, and the punchingof heads seemed a positive crime. 

To make matters worse, the day ended with a thunderstorm, and theevening had to be spent indoors. Raymond was in a sulk, and refused tojoin in any of the parlour games which were usually resorted to in wetweather. 

"Aunt Mab, I wish you'd show us some of your treasures, " said Barbara. She was kneeling upon a chair in front of a funny little semicircularcupboard with a glass door, let into the panelling of the wall, andfilled with china, little Indian figures, and all kinds of other oddsand ends. 

"Very well, dear, I will, " answered Miss Fenleigh, glad to think ofsome way of amusing her guests. "Run up and fetch the bunch of keysout of the middle drawer in my dressing-table. "

The young people gathered round, and the contents of the cupboard werehanded from one to another for examination. The curiosities were manyand various. The girls were chiefly taken with the china; while whatmost appealed to Jack and Valentine was a small Moorish dagger. Theycarefully examined the blade for any traces of bloodstains, and tryingthe point against their necks, speculated as to what it must feel liketo be "stuck. "

"And what's that?" asked Barbara, pointing to a little, square leathercase on the bottom shelf. 

"Ah! that's the thing I value more than anything else, " answered QueenMab. "There!" she continued, opening the box and displaying a large, handsome gold watch. "That was given to your grandfather by thepassengers on his ship at the end of one of his voyages to Australia. They met with dreadful weather, and I know I've heard him say that fortwo days and nights, when the storm was at its height, he never leftthe deck. You boys ought to be proud to remember it. There, Valentine, read the inscription. "

The boy read the words engraved on the inside of the case:--

 Presented to CAPTAIN JOHN FENLEIGH, OF THE "EVELINA" STEAMSHIP, As a small acknowledgment of the skill and ability displayed by him under circumstances of exceptional difficulty and danger. 

"My father has a gold watch that was given to him when he retired frombusiness, " said Raymond; "it's bigger than that, and has got our creston the back. By-the-bye, " he continued, "aren't you afraid of havingit stolen? I shouldn't keep it in that cupboard, it I were you. Youare certain to get it stolen some day. "

"Oh, we don't have any thieves at Brenlands, " answered his aunt, smiling. 

"I've a jolly good mind to steal it myself, " said Jack; "or it youlike, aunt, I'll exchange. "

Jack's watch was always a standing joke against him, and, as he drew itout, the bystanders laughed. It was something like the timepiece bywhich, when the hands were at 9. 30 and the bell struck three, one mightknow it was twelve o'clock. The silver case was dented and scratched;the long hand was twisted; the works, from having been taken to piecesand hurriedly put together again in class, were decidedly out of order;in fact, Jack was not quite certain if, when cleaning it on oneoccasion, he had not lost one of the wheels. 

Queen Mab laughed and shook her head. "No, thank you, " she said. "Ithink I should prefer to keep mine for the present, though one of youshall have it some day. "

Raymond always came down to breakfast long after the others hadfinished. The next morning there was a letter waiting for him whichhad been readdressed on from Melchester. He was still in a sulk, andthe contents of the epistle did not seem to improve his temper. Hedevoured his food in silence, and then went off by himself to smoke atthe bottom of the garden. 

"He is a surly animal, " said Valentine. "I wish he had never come. "

"Well, he's going to-morrow evening, " answered Helen, "and I suppose wemust make the best of him till then. "

During the remainder of the day Raymond kept to himself, and though, after tea, he condescended to take part in some of the usual indoorgames, he did it in so ungracious a manner as to spoil the pleasure ofthe other players. 

Somehow the last day or so did not seem at all like the usual happytimes at Brenlands. There was a screw loose somewhere, and every onewas not quite so merry and good-tempered as usual. 

"Bother it! wet again!" said Barbara, pushing back her chair from thebreakfast-table with a frown and a pout. 

"Never mind, " answered her aunt. "Rain before seven, fine beforeeleven. "

Barbara did not believe in proverbs. She wandered restlessly round theroom, inquiring what was the good of rain in August, and expressing herdiscontent with things in general. 

"Oh, I say, " she exclaimed suddenly, halting in front of the littleglass door of the cupboard, "what do you think has happened? That dearlittle china man with the guitar has tumbled over and broken his headoff!"

Helen and the boys crowded round to look. It was certainly thecase--the little china figure lay over on its side, broken in themanner already described. 

"Who can have done it?"

"I expect I must have upset it the other evening when I was showing youthe things, " answered Miss Fenleigh. "Never mind, I think I can mendit. Go and fetch my keys, Bar, and we'll see just what's the matterwith the little gentleman. "

"This is funny, " she continued, a few minutes later, "the key won'tturn. Dear me! what a silly I am! why, the door isn't locked afterall. "

The little image was taken out, and while it was being examined Barbarapicked up the little leather case on which it usually stood. Inanother moment she gave vent to an ejaculation of surprise whichstartled the remainder of the company, and made them immediately forgetall about the china troubadour. 

"Why, aunt, where's the watch?"

Every one looked. It was true enough--the case was empty, and thewatch gone. For a moment there was a dead silence, the company beingtoo much astonished to speak. 

"Stolen!" exclaimed Raymond. "I said it would be some day. "

"But when was it taken?--Who could have done it?--Where did they getin?--How did they know about it?"

These and other questions followed each other in rapid succession. Arobbery at Brenlands! The thing seemed impossible; and yet here wasthe empty case to prove it. The watch had disappeared, and no one hadthe slightest notion what could have become of it. 

"There's something in this lock, " said Valentine, who had been peeringinto the keyhole. "Lend me your crochet needle, Helen, and I'll get itout. "

With some little difficulty the obstacle was removed, and onexamination proved to be a fragment of a broken key. 

"Hallo!" said Raymond, "here's a clue at any rate. Don't lose it; putit in that little jar on the mantelpiece. "

The remainder of the morning was passed in an excited discussionregarding the mysterious disappearance of the gold timepiece. 

"I can't think any one can have stolen it, " said Queen Mab. "Howshould they have known about it? and, besides, if any one broke intothe house last night, how is it they didn't take anything else--thatlittle silver box, for instance?"

"It's stolen, right enough, " said Raymond. "It couldn't have been JoeCrouch, could it?"

"Not a bit of it, " answered Jack decisively. "He wouldn't do a thinglike that. He stole some fruit once, but he's honest enough now. "

"Could the servant have taken it?"

"Oh, no!" answered Queen Mab. "I could trust Jane with anything. "

During the afternoon the weather cleared, but no one seemed inclined todo anything; a feeling of gloom and uneasiness lay upon the wholecompany. 

Jack was sitting in a quiet corner reading, when his aunt called him. 

"Oh, there you are! I wanted to speak to you alone just for a minute. Helen told me about your quarrel with Raymond, and I want you to makeit up. He's going away to-night, and I shouldn't like you to part, except as friends. "

The boy frowned. "I don't want to be friends, " he answeredimpatiently. "He's played me some very shabby tricks, and I think theless we see of him the better. "

"Perhaps so; but I'm so sorry that you should have actually come toblows, and that while you were staying here with me at Brenlands. "

"I'm not sorry! I wish I'd hit him harder!"

"Oh, you 'ugly duckling!'" answered the lady, smiling, and running herfingers through his crumpled hair. "You'll find out some day that'punching heads, ' as you call it, isn't the most satisfactory kind ofrevenge. However, I don't expect you to believe it now, but I thinkyou'll do what I ask you. Go to Raymond, and say you're sorry youforgot yourself so far as to strike him, and ask his pardon. There, Idon't think there is anything in that which need go against yourconscience, or that it is a request that any gentleman need be ashamedto make. "

Jack complied, but with a very bad grace. If the suggestion had comefrom any one but Queen Mab, he would have scouted the idea from thefirst. 

He found Raymond swinging in a hammock under the trees. 

"I say, " he began awkwardly, "I'm sorry I hit you when we had that row. Aunt Mabel wished me to tell you so. "

"Hum! You'll be sorrier still before long. I suppose now you want to'kiss and be friends'?"

"No, I don't. "

"Then if you don't want to be forgiven, " returned the other with asneer, "why d'you come and say you're sorry?"

Jack turned away in a rage, feeling that he had at all events got theworst of this encounter, and that it was entirely his own fault forhaving laid himself open to the rebuff. 

He felt vexed with Helen for telling his aunt what had taken place, andwith the latter for influencing him to offer Raymond an apology. Altogether the atmosphere around him seemed charged with discomfort andannoyance, and even the merry tinkle of the tea-bell was not so welcomeas usual. 

"Where's Raymond?" asked Queen Mab. 

"I think he's putting his things in his bag, " answered Valentine. "Shall I go and call him?"

At that moment the subject of their conversation entered the room. Hewalked round to his place in silence, pausing for a moment to takesomething down from the mantelpiece. 

"Who owns a key with a scrap of steel chain tied on to it?"

"I do, " answered Jack. "It belongs to my play-box. "

"Well, here it is, " returned the other. "I picked it up among thebushes. Do you notice anything peculiar about it?"

"No. "

"You don't? Well, here's something belonging to it, " and so saying, the speaker flipped across the table the little metal fragment whichhad been taken from the lock in the cupboard door. 

"Confound it!" said Jack. "The thief must have used my key!"

"_Faugh_!" ejaculated Raymond, bitterly. 

Jack looked up quickly with an expression of anger and astonishment. 

"What's the matter?" he cried. "D'you mean to say I took the watch?"

"I've said nothing of the kind, " answered the other coldly; "though Iremember you did say you'd a good mind to steal it. I've simply givenyou back your key. "

If a thunderbolt had fallen in the middle of the pretty tea-table, itcould not have caused more astonishment and dismay than this lastspeech of Raymond's. Every one for the moment was too much taken abackto speak. 

The smouldering fire of Jack's wrath had only needed this breeze to setit into a flame. His undisciplined spirit immediately showed itself inan outburst of ungovernable anger. 

"You are a cad and a liar!" he said. "Wait till I get you outside. "

"Hush! hush!" interrupted Miss Fenleigh, fearing a repetition of theprevious encounter. "I can't have such words used here. PerhapsRaymond may be mistaken. "

The last words were spoken thoughtlessly, in the heat of the moment. Jack in his anger resented that "may" and "perhaps, " as implying doubtas to his honesty, and regarded the silence of the others as a signthat they also considered him guilty. In his wild, reckless manner hedashed his knife down upon the table, and with a parting glare at hisaccuser, marched straight out of the room. 

Valentine rose to follow him. 

"No, Val, " said Miss Fenleigh, in an agitated voice. "Leave him tohimself for a little while. He'll be calmer directly. "

Ten minutes later the front door closed with a bang. 

"He's going out to get cool, I suppose, " said Raymond scornfully. "Hedidn't seem to relish my finding his play-box key. However, perhapshe'll explain matters when he comes back. "

But Jack did not come back. The blind fury of the moment gave place toa dogged, unreasoning sense of wrong and injustice. He had beenaccused of robbing the person he loved best on earth, and she believedhim to be guilty. The old, wayward spirit once more took fullpossession of his heart, and in a moment he was ready to throwoverboard all that he prized most dearly. 

He had some money in his pocket, enough to carry him home if he walkedto Melchester, and his luggage could come on another time. The planwas formed, and he did not hesitate to put it into immediate execution. 

It was not until nearly an hour after his departure that Queen Mabrealized what had become of him, and then her distress was great. 

"Why didn't he wait to speak to us!" she cried. "We must all write hima letter by to-night's post, to tell him that, of course, we don'tthink he's the thief, and to beg him to come back. "

"If you like to do it at once, " said Raymond, "I'll post them atGrenford. They'll reach him then the first thing in the morning. "

The letters were written; even Barbara, who never could be got tohandle a pen except under strong compulsion, scribbled nearly fourpages, and filled up the blank space at the end with innumerable kisses. 

About two hours later the scapegoat tramped, footsore and weary, intothe Melchester railway station; and at nearly the same moment, RaymondFosberton, on his way home, took from his pocket the letters which hadbeen entrusted to his care, tore them to fragments, and dropped themover the low wall of a bridge into the canal. 

"Now we're about quits!" he said. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE SOUND OF THE DRUM. 

"'I believe I must go out into the world again, ' said theduckling. "--_The Ugly Duckling_. 

The summers came and went, but Jack Fenleigh remained a rebel, refusingto join the annual gathering at Brenlands, and to pay his homage at thecourt of Queen Mab. 

One bright September morning, about four years after the holidaysdescribed in the previous chapter, he was sitting at an untidybreakfast-table, evidently eating against time, and endeavouring todivide his attention between swallowing down the meal and reading aletter which lay open in front of him. The teapot, bread, butter, andother provisions had been gathered round him in a disorderly group, soas to be near his hand; the loaf was lying on the tablecloth, the baconwas cold, and the milk-jug was minus a handle. It was, on the whole, avery different display from the breakfast-table at Brenlands; andperhaps it was this very thought that crossed the young man's mind ashe turned and dug viciously at the salt, which had caked nearly into asolid block. 

In outward appearance, to a casual observer, Jack had altered verylittle since the day when he knocked Master Raymond Fosberton into thelaurel bush; yet there was a change. He had broadened, and grown tolook older, and more of a man, though the old impatient look seemed tohave deepened in his face like the lines between his eyebrows. 

The party at Brenlands had waited in vain for a reply to their letters. Within a week, Miss Fenleigh had written again, assuring the runawaythat neither she nor his cousins for one moment suspected him of havingstolen the watch; but in the meantime the mischief had been done. 

"They think I did it, " muttered Jack to himself, "or they'd havewritten at once. Aunt Mabel wants to forgive me, and smooth it over;but they know I'm a scamp, and now they believe I'm a thief!"

Again he hardened his heart, and though his feelings towards Queen Maband his cousins never changed, yet his mind was made up to cut himselfadrift from the benefit of their society. He left Valentine's letterunanswered, and refused all his aunt's pressing invitations to visither again. 

Every year these were renewed with the same warmth and regularity, andit was one which now lay open beside his plate. 

"I suppose, " ran the letter, "that you have heard how well Val passedout of Sandhurst. He is coming down to see me before joining hisregiment, and will bring Helen and Barbara with him. I want you tocome too, and then we shall all be together once more, and have thesame dear old times over again. I shan't put up with any excuses, as Iknow you take your holiday about this time, so just write and say whenyou are coming. "

Jack lifted his eyes from the letter, and made a grab at the loaf. 

"I should like to go, " he muttered; "how jolly the place mustlook!--but no, I've left it too long. I ought to have gone back atonce, or never to have run away like that. Of course, now they mustthink that I stole the watch. Yet, perhaps, if I gave them my word ofhonour, they'd believe me; I know Aunt Mabel would. "

At this moment the door opened, and a gentleman entered the room. Hewas wearing a shabby-looking dressing-gown, a couple of ragged quillpens were stuck in his mouth, and he carried in his hand a bundle ofclosely-written sheets of foolscap. Mr. Basil Fenleigh, to tell thetruth, was about to issue an invitation to a "few friends" to join himin starting an advertisement and bill-posting agency business; to beconducted, so said the rough copy of the circular, on entirely novellines, which could not fail to ensure success, and the drafting out ofwhich had occupied most of his leisure time during the past twelvemonths. 

"Humph!" he exclaimed sourly. "Down at your usual time, eh? You'll belate again at your office. "

"No, I shan't, " answered the son, glancing up at the clock. "I can getthere in ten minutes. "

"You can't. You know very well Mr. Caston complained only the otherday of your coming behind your time. The next thing will be thatyou'll lose your situation. "

"I don't care if I do; I'm heartily sick of the place. "

"You're heartily sick of any kind of work, and you always have been. "

Jack threw down his knife and fork and rose from the table, leavingpart of his breakfast unfinished on his plate. 

"All right, " he said sulkily; "I'll go at once. "

He strode out of the room, crushing Queen Mab's letter into a crumpledball of paper in his clenched fist. After what had just passed, hewould certainly not broach the subject of a holiday. 

The morning's work seemed, if possible, more distasteful than ever. Casting up sheets of analysis, he got wrong in his additions, and hadto go over them again. He watched the workmen moving about in the yardoutside, and wished he had been trained to some manual trade liketheirs. Then he thought of Valentine, and for the first time hisaffection for his old friend gave place to a feeling of bitterness andenvy. 

"Confound the fellow! he's always done just as he liked. I wish he washere in my shoes for a bit. It isn't fair one chap should have suchluck, and another none at all. Little he cares what becomes of me. Imay rot here all my life, and no one troubles the toss of a buttonwhether I'm happy or miserable. "

He was in the same ill-humour when he returned home to dinner. Mr. Fenleigh was also out of temper, and seemed inclined to give vent tohis feelings by renewing the dispute which had commenced at thebreakfast-table. Father and son seldom met except at meals; andunfortunately, on these occasions, the conversation frequently took theform of bickering and complaint. Jack, as a rule, appeared sullenlyindifferent to what passed; this time, however, his smoulderingdiscontent burst out into a name of anger. 

"I suppose you _were_ late this morning?"

"No, I wasn't. "

"Humph! You said before you started that you were sick of the place, and didn't care whether you lost it. If you do, I hope you won'texpect me to find you another berth. "

"No, I'll find one myself. "

"What d'you think you're good for? You're more likely to idle abouthere doing nothing than find any other employment. "

"I work harder than you do, " said the son angrily. 

"Hold your tongue, sir! If you can't treat me with some amount ofrespect, you'd better leave the house. "

"So I will. I'll go and enlist. "

"You may go where you please. I've done the best I could for you, andall the return I get is ingratitude and abuse. Now you can act foryourself. "

It was not the first time that remarks of this character had been firedacross the table. Jack made no reply, but at that moment his mind wasseized with a desperate resolve. Once for all he would settle thisquestion, and change the present weary existence for something morecongenial to his taste. All that afternoon he turned the plan over inhis thoughts, and his determination to follow it up grew stronger asthe time approached for putting it into execution. What if the movewere a false one? a person already in the frying-pan could but jumpinto the fire; and any style of life seemed preferable to the one hewas now living. His father had told him to please himself, and, as hehad only himself to consider, he would do so, and follow the drum, ashad always been his inclination from childhood. 

The big bell clanged out the signal for giving over work; but Jack, instead of returning home, picked up a small handbag he had broughtwith him, and walked off in the direction of the railway station. Onhis way thither, he counted the money in his pocket. He had some ideaof going to London, but the expense of the journey would be too heavyfor his resources. It mattered little where the plunge was taken; hewould go to the barracks at Melchester. 

He lingered for a moment at the window of the booking-office, hardlyknowing why he hesitated. 

Why not? He had only himself to please. 

The clerk grew impatient. "Well?" he said. 

Jack threw down his money. "Third, Melchester!" he said, and socrossed the Rubicon. 

Very few changes had taken place in the little city during the fouryears which had elapsed since he last visited it. Here and there ahouse had been modernized, or a new shop-front erected, but in theneighbourhood of the school no alterations seemed to have been made. He strolled past it in the dusk, and paused to look in through thegates: the boys had not yet returned, and the quadrangle was dark anddeserted. He thought of the night when he and Rosher had climbed in byway of the headmaster's garden, and forced an entry into the housethrough the bathroom window. It seemed a hardship then to be obligedto be in by a certain time, yet it was preferable to having noresting-place to claim as one's own. 

A few minutes later he halted again, this time outside thewell-remembered cookshop. "Duster's" was exactly the same as it alwayshad been, except for the fact that, it being holiday time, the displayof delicacies in the window was not quite so large as usual. Jacksmiled as there flashed across his mind the memory of the literarysociety's supper; the faces of the sprightly Tinkleby, Preston thebowler, "Guzzling Jimmy, " and a host of others, rose before him in thedeepening twilight. They had been good comrades together once; most ofthem had probably made a fair start by this time in various walks oflife. He wondered if they remembered him, and what they would say ifthey knew what he was doing, and whether any of them would care whatbecame of him. No, he had only himself to please now, and if hepreferred soldiering to office-work, what was there to hinder him fromtaking the shilling?

There was no particular hurry. He passed the night at a smalltemperance hotel, and next morning, after a plain breakfast, startedout for a stroll into the country. He had written a note to his fatherbefore leaving Padbury merely stating his intention, and giving noaddress. There was nothing more to be done but to enjoy himself as afree man before making application to the nearest recruiting sergeant. 

He passed the barracks where the 1st Battalion of the Royal BlankshireRegiment was quartered, and thought how often he and Valentine hadlingered there, listening to the bugle-calls, and watching the drillinstructors at work in the square with their awkward squads. Justinside the gate the guard were falling in, preparatory to the arrivalof the relief, and something in their smart appearance, and in the veryclank of their rifle-butts upon the flagstones, stirred his heart; yes, that was the calling he meant to follow. 

He strode off along the Hornalby road, whistling a lively tune, andconjuring up bright mental pictures of the life before him. He mightnot have Valentine's luck, but he would make up for it in other ways. The path was steep and rough, no doubt, but in treading it scores ofbrave men had won honour and renown; and with courage anddetermination, there was no reason why he should not do the same. Itwas a man's life, and here there was certainly more chance ofdistinguishing oneself than in a manufacturer's office. 

With these and other thoughts of a similar nature occupying his mind, Jack tramped on gaily enough in the bright sunshine. Suddenly, however, he stopped dead in the middle of the road. He had come insight of a wayside inn, the Black Horse, and the thought struck himthat he was within two miles of Brenlands. 

All unbidden, a host of recollections came rushing upon him. The lasttime he had walked from Melchester along this road was the afternoon onwhich he brought back the silver locket for Queen Mab. What if thepony-carriage should suddenly turn the corner? and yet, why should hebe afraid to meet her? He was doing nothing to be ashamed of, and therecollection of the stolen watch never entered his head. He would havegiven anything to have gone on and seen her again--to have had one morekind smile and loving word. "My own boy Jack!" Would he ever hear hersay that again?

He turned on his heel, and began the return journey with a gloomy lookof discontent upon his face. His castles in the air had vanished: whatwas there that made a soldier's life attractive but the right to goabout in a red coat like a barrel-organ monkey? For two pins he wouldabandon the project, and go back to Padbury. 

This impression, however, was not destined to last very long. As heapproached the barracks he noticed a small crowd of idlers collectingnear a gateway, and at the same instant the silence was broken by thesound of a drum. He knew what it was--the regiment had been outdrilling on the neighbouring common, and was on its way home. 

He hurried forward to watch the soldiers as they passed. 

Boom! boom! boom!--boom! boom! boom! With a glorious crash the brassinstruments burst out with the tune. Jack knew it well, and his heartdanced to it as the band marched out into the road. 

 "'Twas in the merry month of May, When bees from flower to flower did hum, Soldiers through the town marched gay, The village flew to the sound of the drum!"

Jack drew back into the hedge to watch as the regiment went by. 

"March at ease!" The sunlight flashed as the arms were sloped, andglittered on bright blades as the officers returned their swords. Nota detail escaped his eager observation; the swing of the rifle-barrels, the crisp tramp of the marching feet, even the chink of the chainbridles as the horses of the mounted officers shook their heads, allseemed to touch answering chords in his inmost heart, and awaken therethe old love and longing for a soldier's life. 

 "The tailor he got off his knees, And to the ranks did boldly come: He said he ne'er would sit at ease, But go with the rest, and follow the drum!"

Jack hesitated no longer, but hurried back to pick up the fewbelongings he had left at the hotel, determined to put his project intoexecution without further delay. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE QUEEN'S SHILLING. 

"If he had called out, 'Here I am, ' it would have been all right; buthe was too proud to cry out for help while he wore a uniform. "--_TheBrave Tin Soldier_. 

There was no more hesitation or uncertainty about his movements now, and before he knew it, Jack found himself once more back at thebarracks. The corporal on "gate duty, " who, for want of somethingbetter to do, had been chastising his own leg with a "swagger cane, "ceased in the performance of this self-imposed penance, and shot asignificant glance at the stranger. 

"Looking out for any one?" he inquired, by way of opening up aconversation. 

"No, " answered Jack; "the fact is, I've come to enlist. D'you thinkyou could make a soldier of me?"

"Well, at any rate, I should say you were big enough, " answered thecorporal briskly. "Why, we ought to make a general of a smart youngfellow like you, in less than no time!"

This seemed a promising commencement; but the adjutant, in front ofwhom Jack was conducted after undergoing a preliminary examination asto his height, chest measurement, and strength of eyesight, did notappear to be of quite so sanguine a temperament as the non-commissionedofficer. 

He eyed the would-be recruit with no very favourable expression on hisface, as he prepared to take down the answers to the questions on theattestation paper. 

"Name?"

"John Fenleigh. "

"Is that a _nom de guerre_?"

"No, sir, it's my real name. "

"Humph! So you speak French?"

Jack coloured slightly. 

"No, sir--that is, I learned some at school. "

The officer looked up, and laid his quill pen down on the table. 

"Look here, my good fellow, " he said, "it's not my business to ask whatbrings you here, but one thing I should like to know: how long do youexpect you are going to remain in the army--a week, or six months?"

"The full time, I hope, sir. "

"Are your parents living? And do they know of the step you're taking?"

"My father is living. I told him what I meant to do before I lefthome. "

"Well, " returned the officer, once more dipping his quill in the ink, "if you change your mind before to-morrow, you'll have to pay asovereign; after that, it'll cost you ten pounds!"

The paper was filled up, and our hero received the historical shilling, which he slipped into his waistcoat pocket, having previouslydetermined never to part with that particular coin, unless he wereobliged. He was then conducted to the hospital, and there examined bythe medical officer; his eyesight being once more tested by his havingto count a number of white dots on a piece of black paper displayed onthe opposite side of the room, each eye being covered alternately. 

Having passed satisfactorily through this ordeal, he was informed thathe could not be sworn in before the following day, when he must presenthimself at the orderly room at eleven o'clock. Until that time he wasfree to do as he pleased; and being still in the possession of thegreater portion of his previous week's salary, he chose to sleepanother night at the hotel, and so spent the remainder of the daywandering about the streets of Melchester. 

On the following morning, at the appointed hour, he returned to thebarracks, and after some little delay, was brought into the presence ofthe commanding officer, where he was duly "sworn in, " and signed hisname to the declaration of allegiance. 

"You'll join C Company, " said the sergeant-major. "Just take himacross, orderly, and show him the room. "

With feelings very much akin to those of the "new boy" arriving for thefirst time at a big boarding-school, our hero followed his guide acrossthe square, up a flight of stairs, and down a long corridor, amid agood deal of noise and bustle. The bugle had not long since sounded"Come to the cook-house door, " and the dinner orderlies were hurryingback with the supply of rations for their respective rooms. 

At length a door was reached, in front of which the orderly pausedwith, "Here you are!" Jack entered, and made his first acquaintancewith his future home--the barrack-room. 

It was large and lofty, with whitewashed walls and a floor of bareboards. A row of wooden tables and forms ran down the centre, abovewhich was a hanging shelf for the men's plates and basins. Around theroom were sixteen small iron bedsteads, each made in such a fashionthat one half closed up under the other, the mattress when not in usebeing rolled up and secured by a strap, with the blankets and sheetsfolded on the top; the remaining portion of the couch, on which the rugwas laid, serving for a seat. Above the bed were shelves and hooks foraccoutrements, and other possessions. Above some of the cots smallpictures or photographs were hung, which served to relieve the monotonyof the whitewash; but these, like the rest of Tommy Atkins's property, were arranged with that scrupulous care and neatness which is socharacteristic of all that concerns the service from baton tobutton-stick. 

At the moment Jack entered, his future room-mates were busy round oneend of the tables, assisting the orderly man in the task of pouringsoup from a large can into the small basins, and making a similar equaldivision of the meat and potatoes. The new-comer's arrival, therefore, was scarcely noticed, except by the sergeant, who told him to sit down, and saw that he received a share of the rations. The fare wascertainly rough, and seemed in keeping with the table manners of therank and file of the Royal Blankshire; they forbore to "trouble" eachother for things out of reach, but secured them with a dive and a grab. "Here, chuck us the rooty!" was the request when one needed bread;while though substantial mustard and pepper pots adorned the board, thesalt was in the primitive form of a lump, which was pushed about fromman to man, and scraped down with the dinner knives. 

But Jack had not come to barracks expecting a _table d'hôte_ dinner ofeight or nine courses, served by waiters in evening dress, and he setto work with a good grace on what was set before him. The remarksaddressed to him, if a trifle blunt, were good-natured enough, and hereplied to them in the same spirit. His comrades evidently remarkedfrom the first that he was a cut above the ordinary recruit; but he waswise enough to avoid showing any airs, and soon saw that this line ofconduct was appreciated. 

The meal was in progress when there was a sharp rap, and the door wasopened. 

"'Tenshun!" The men laid down their knives and forks, and rose totheir feet. 

"Dinners all right here?"

"Yes, sir. "

"All present?"

"All present, sir. " The orderly officer glanced round the room, andthen turned and walked out. 

"'E's a gentleman, is Mr. Lawson, " murmured one of the men; "'e alwaysshuts the door behind 'im. " Jack's eye followed the figure of thelieutenant as he rejoined the orderly sergeant in the passage. It wasnot so much the sash and sword, and neat, blue patrol jacket, as thecheery voice and pleasant sunburnt face, which had attracted our hero'sattention; somehow these reminded him of Valentine, and turned histhoughts back to his old friend. He wondered how his cousin looked inthe same uniform. Well, well, however wide and deep the gulf might bewhich the doings of the last two days had placed between them, theywere, in a way, reunited; for the service was the same, whateverdifference there might be in shoulder-straps. 

Dinner over, some of the men made down their beds for a nap, whileothers announced their intention "to do some soldiering, " a term whichimplied the cleaning and polishing of accoutrements. 

Sergeant Sparks, the non-commissioned officer in charge of the room, had a few friendly words with Jack, told him what he would have to doon the following day, and advised him in the meantime to make himselfas comfortable as he could. "Here, " he added, turning to a private, "just show this man his cot, and explain to him how to keep hisbedding; you may want a good turn yourself some time. "

The soldier obeyed readily enough. Jack had already caught his eyeseveral times during dinner, and now followed him into a corner of theroom, resolved if possible to patch up a friendship. In the carryingout of this intention he was destined to experience a startlingsurprise. 

The man paused before one of the end beds, and began to unfasten thestrap of the mattress. 

"I didn't think of meeting you here, Mr. Fenleigh. "

Jack started and stared at the speaker in silent astonishment. 

"You remember me, sir?--Joe Crouch. "

"What! Joe Crouch, who used to work at Brenlands?"

"Yes, sir; Joe Crouch as stole the pears, " answered the soldier, smiling. "I never expected to find you 'listin' in the army, sir. Isuppose Miss Fenleigh ain't aware of what you're doin'?"

"Oh, no!" exclaimed the other eagerly. "Promise me you'll never tellany one at Brenlands where I am--swear you won't. "

"Very well, sir, " replied Joe Crouch, calmly proceeding to unroll themattress and make down the bed. 

"For goodness' sake, drop that _sir_. Look here, Joe: I'm a lame dog, down on my luck, and no good to anybody; but we were friendly yearsago, and if you'll have me for a comrade now, I'll do my best to be agood one. "

Joe flung down the bedding, and held out his big, brown hand. 

"That I will!" he answered. "You did the square thing by me once, andnow I'll see you through; don't you fret. "

Tea in barracks was evidently a very informal meal, of which no greataccount was taken. As Jack sat down to his bowl and chunk of bread, Joe Crouch pushed a screw of paper in front of him, which onexamination proved to contain a small pat of butter. 

"What's this?" asked Jack. 

"Fat, " answered Joe, shortly. "From the canteen, " he added. 

"Then you've paid for it, and--look here--you've got none yourself. "

"Don't want any, " answered Joe, breaking up a crust and dropping itinto his tea. "There you are. That's what's called a 'floatin'battery. '"

In the evening most of the men went out. Jack, however, preferred toremain where he was, and passed the time reading a paper he had broughtwith him, at one of the tables. Sergeant Sparks came up to him andchatted pleasantly for half an hour. He wore a ribbon at his breast, and had stirring stories to tell of the Afghan war, and Roberts' marchto Candahar. About half-past eight the men began to return from theirwalks and various amusements, and the barrack-room grew more noisy. Athalf-past nine the roll was called, and the orders read out for thefollowing day, and Jack was not sorry when the time came to turn in. Crouch came over to see if he understood the preparation of his cot. 

"The feathers in these 'ere beds grew on rather a large bird, " remarkedJoe, referring to the straw mattress, "but they're soft enough when youcome off a spell of guard duty or a day's manoeuvrin'. "

The bugle sounded the long, melancholy G, and the orderly man turnedoff the gas. Our hero lay awake for some time listening to the heavybreathing of his new comrades, and then turned over and fell asleep. 

The bright morning sunshine was streaming in through the big windowswhen the clear, ringing notes of reveille and the cheery strains of"Old Daddy Longlegs" roused him to consciousness of where he was. 

"Now then, my lads, show a leg there!" cried the sergeant. 

Jack stretched and yawned. Yes, it was certainly a rough path, but hismind was made up to tread it with a good heart, and this being thecase, he was not likely to turn back. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

ON ACTIVE SERVICE. 

"A voice cried out, 'I declare here is the tin soldier!'"--_The BraveTin Soldier_. 

A brilliant, clear sky overhead, and such a scorching sun that the airdanced with the heat, as though from the blast of a furnace; surelythis could not be the twenty-fifth of December!

But Christmas Day it was--Christmas Day in the camp at Korti. 

[Illustration: "It was Christmas Day in the camp at Korti. "]

Among the pleasant groves of trees which bordered the steep banks ofthe Nile glistened the white tents of the Camel Corps. Still fartherback from the river lay fields of grass and patches of green dhurra;and behind these again an undulating waste of sand and gravel, dottedhere and there with scrub and rock, and stretching away to thefaintly-discerned hills of the desert. The shade of the trees temperedthe heat, making a pleasant change after the roasting, toilsome journeyup country. 

Here, though hardly to be recognized with their ragged clothing andunshaven faces, was gathered a body of men who might be regarded asrepresenting the flower of England's army--Life Guards, Lancers, Dragoons, Grenadiers, Highlanders, and linesmen from many a famous footregiment; all were there, ready to march and fight shoulder to shoulderin order to rescue Gordon from his perilous position in Khartoum. 

Every day the numbers in camp had been gradually growing larger, freshbatches of troops arriving either on camels or in boats. A whole fleetof these "whalers" lay moored along the bank of the Nile; the usualquiet of the river being continually broken by the dog-like panting ofsteam launches hurrying up and down the stream. 

Friendly natives, clad in loose shirts and skull-caps, wandered throughthe lines, gazing wonderingly at all they saw; while in strangecontrast to their unintelligible jabberings, rose the familiar _patois_of the barrack-room, or snatches of some popular music-hall song hummedor whistled by every urchin in the streets of London. 

The concentration of the expedition had now been almost completed, andthe chief topic of conversation was the immediate prospect of a desertmarch to Shendy. 

But to return to our commencement, Christmas Day it was; and howeverdifficult it might have been to realize this as far as the weather wasconcerned, the fact had, to a certain extent, been impressed upon theminds of the men by the supplementing of their ordinary dinner rationswith a gallant attempt at plum-pudding, manufactured for the most partout of boiled dates. 

Two men, who had just partaken of this delicacy, were lying stretchedout full length under a shady tree, their pith helmets brought wellforward over their eyes, their grey serge jumpers thrown open, andpipes in their mouths. To see them now, with their tattered nethergarments, stubbly chins, and sunburnt faces, from which the skin waspeeling off in patches, one could hardly have recognized in them thesame smart soldiers who paraded a few months ago on the barrack squareat Melchester. Yet such they were, as the reader will soon discover bythe opening remarks of their conversation. 

"This weather don't seem very seasonable. I wonder whether it's frostand snow away home at Brenlands. "

"Yes; I wonder if the reservoir at Hornalby is frozen. We used to goskating there when I was at school. It seems a jolly long time agonow!"

"It don't seem three years ago to me since you enlisted. I neverthought you'd have stayed so long. "

"Didn't you? When my mind's made up, it's apt to stick to it, Joe, myboy. Besides, I had no prospect of anything better. "

There was a pause, during which the two comrades (who, from theforegoing, will have been recognized as our hero and Joe Crouch)continued to puff away at their pipes in silence, listening to theremarks of three men who were playing a drowsy game with a tatteredpack of cards. 

"These cards are gettin' precious ragged; you'd better get 'emclipped. "--"Why don't you play the king?"--"'Cause there ain't one!he's one of 'em as is lost. "

"You used to have fine times, I reckon, when you and Mr. Valentine andthe young ladies came to stay at Miss Fenleigh's, " said Crouch. "Iwonder what she'd say if she knew you was out here in Egypt. "

"I took precious good care she shouldn't know. I suppose she heardfrom the guv'nor that I went off and enlisted, but I didn't send wordwhat regiment I joined. I never mean to see her again--no fear!"

"She was a kind lady, " murmured Joe reflectively; "very good to me onceupon a time. "

"Yes, that she was--the best and kindest woman in the world; and that'sjust the reason why I'm glad to think she doesn't know what's become ofme. -- Hallo, Swabs, what are you after?"

The person thus addressed was a gaunt, lanky-looking warrior, cladsimply in helmet, shirt, and trousers; the sleeves of his "greyback"were rolled up above his elbows; and he was armed with a roughly-madecatapult, evidently intended for the destruction of some of the small, brightly-coloured birds that were flitting about among the branches ofthe palms. "Swabs, " who answered at roll-call to the name of Smith H. , in addition to holding the badge as best shot in the regiment, was apopular character in C Company. 

"Shist!" he answered; "when there ain't nothink better to shoot at, I'mgoin' to try me 'and on some of these dickies. "

"Swabs" was evidently more skilful with the rifle than with his presentweapon. He discharged his pebble, but with no result. 

"Miss; high right, " said Jack. "Where did you get your elastic from?"

"The tube of me filter. I'll take a finer sight next time, " and"Swabs" went stalking off in search of further sport. 

"It seems hard to imagine that we're on the real business at last, "said Jack, clasping his hands behind his head and stretching out hislegs. "After so many sham fights, it seems rum to think of one in realearnest. The strange thing to me, " he continued, "is to think howoften my cousin and I used to talk about war, and wonder what it waslike; and we thought he was the one more likely to see it. I used tobe always grumbling about his luck, and now I expect he'd envy me mine. "

"I suppose he hasn't come out?"

"No, I don't think so. I forget just where he's stationed. Look atTom Briggs over there, he using his towel to put a patch on the seat ofhis breeches. Hey, Tommy! how are you going to dry yourself when youwash?"

"Wash!" answered the man, looking up from his work with a grin, "you'llbe glad enough afore long to lap up every spot of water you comeacross; there won't be much talk of washin' in this 'ere desert, I'mthinkin'. "

The answer was lost on Jack; something else had suddenly attracted hisattention. He sat up and made a movement as though he would rise tohis feet. An officer had just strolled past, wearing a fatigue cap andthe usual serge jumper. His face was tanned a deep brown, and showedup in strong contrast to his fair hair and small, light-colouredmoustache. Our hero's first impulse was to run after and accost thestranger, but he checked himself, and sank back into his formerposition. 

"I say, Briggs, " he called, "what men were those who came up in theboats yesterday?"

"Some of the ----sex Regiment, " answered the other, stooping forward tobite off his cotton with his teeth. 

Jack's heart thumped heavily, and he caught his breath; his eyes hadnot deceived him, and the subaltern who had just walked by wasValentine. 

He was roused from his reverie by the warning call to "stables, " itbeing the time for feeding and grooming the camels. They were queersteeds, these "ships of the desert, " and for those who had never riddenthem before even mounting and dismounting was no easy task. In thecase of the former, unless the animals' heads were brought round totheir shoulders, and held there by means of the rope which served as arein, they were apt to rise up suddenly before the rider had gotproperly into the saddle, a proceeding usually followed by disastrousresults; while, on the other hand, the sudden plunge forward as theydropped on their knees, followed by the lurch in the opposite directionwhen their hind-quarters went down, made it an extremely easy matter tocome a cropper in either direction. Their necks seemed to be made ofindiarubber, and their hind legs, with which they could scratch the topof their heads, or, if so inclined, kick out behind, even when lyingdown, appeared to be furnished with double joints. Jack had christenedhis mount "Lamentations, " from the continual complaints which ituttered; but in this the animal was no worse than the remainder of itsfellows, who bellowed and roared whatever was happening, whether theywere being unsaddled, groomed, mounted, or fed. 

With thoughts centred on his recent discovery, our hero made his way tothe spot where the camels of his detachment were picketed, and therewent mechanically through the work of cleaning up the lines, and thestill more unsavoury task of attending to "Lam's" toilet. Should hespeak to Valentine, or not? That was the question which occupied hismind. Unless he did so, it was hardly likely that after seven years, and with a moustache and sprouting beard, his cousin would recognizehim among the seventeen hundred men destined to form the expedition. 

The men marched back to their lines, and were then dismissed for tea. Jack sat silently sipping at his pannikin and munching his allowance ofbiscuit. 

Should he speak to Valentine, or not? The vague day-dream of theirschool-boy days was realized--they were soldiers together, and onactive service; but everything was altered now. The great differenceof rank was, of itself, sufficient to place an impassable barrierbetween them; and then the recollection of their last parting, hisrefusals to meet his cousins again at Brenlands, and the fact of hishaving left so many of his old chum's letters unanswered, all seemed tolead up to one conclusion. Valentine would long ago have come toregard it as a clear proof that the runaway had really stolen thewatch, and not have been surprised to hear that he had gone to thedogs. Nor was he likely now to be very well pleased if the black sheepsuddenly walked up and claimed relationship. No. Jack felt he hadlong ago severed all ties with what had once been dear to him; it wasthe better plan to let things remain as they were, and make no attemptto renew associations with a past which could not be recalled. 

Sunset was rapidly followed by darkness. In honour of its beingChristmas Day, an impromptu concert had been announced; and the menbegan to gather round a rough stage which had been erected under thetrees, and which was lit up with lamps and the glare of two hugebonfires. 

The programme was of the free-and-easy character: volunteers werecalled for, and responded with songs, step-dances, and the like; whilethe audience, lying and sitting round on the sand, greeted theirefforts with hearty applause, and joined in every chorus with unwontedvigour. 

Jack had always possessed a good voice, a fact which had long ago beendiscovered by his comrades, and now, for the honour of the RoyalBlankshire, those standing near him insisted that he should sing. Before he knew it, he was pushed forward, and hoisted on to theplatform. There was no chance of retreat. He glanced round the sea offaces glowing brightly in the firelight, and after a moment's thoughtas to what would be likely to go down best, he struck up his old song, "The Mermaid. "

 "Oh! 'twas in the broad Atlantic, 'mid the equinoctial gales, That a gay young tar fell overboard, among the sharks and whales. "

The great crowd of listeners burst out into the "Rule, Britannia!"chorus with a mighty roar. But our hero heeded them not; his thoughtshad suddenly gone back to the little parlour at the back of "Duster's"shop; his eyes wandered anxiously over the faces of the officers whowere grouped together in front of the stage, but Valentine did notappear to be among them. 

An uproarious repetition of the last "Rule, Britannia!" was still inprogress as Jack rejoined the Blankshire contingent, and submitted hisback to a number of congratulatory slaps. 

These signs of approval were still being showered down upon him, whenSergeant Sparks touched his elbow. 

"Here's an officer wants to speak to you, Fenleigh. There he is, standing over by that tree. "

With his heart in his mouth, the singer stepped out of the crush, andapproached the figure standing by itself under the heavy shadow of thepalm. 

"Jack!"

The private soldier made no reply, but raised his hand in the customarysalute. The action was simple enough, and yet full of meaning, showingthe altered relationship between the two old friends. 

"Why, man, didn't you tell us where you were? and what had become ofyou?"

"There was no need; and, besides, I didn't wish you to know, sir?"

"Surely you are not still offended over what happened that summer atBrenlands? You must have known that we, none of us, suspected you fora moment of having stolen that watch. It was only a cad like RaymondFosberton would ever have thought of suggesting such a thing. "

"Appearances were very much against me, sir--and--well, it's all pastand done with now. "

Valentine was silent. That "sir, " so familiar to his ear, and yetseemingly so incongruous in the present instance, baffled himcompletely. In the first moment of his discovery he had intended, figuratively speaking, to fall upon the prodigal's neck, and conversewith him in the old, familiar style; but now, between ValentineFenleigh, Esq. , of the ----sex, and Private Fenleigh, of the RoyalBlankshire, there was a great gulf fixed, and the latter, especially, seemed determined to recognize that the former conditions of theirfriendship could now no longer exist. After a moment's pause, Jackspoke. 

"Could you tell me, sir, if they are all well?"

"Who? my people? They're all right, thanks. Helen's just gone and gotmarried; and little Bar's just the same as ever, only a bit older. Shewas twenty-one last month. "

Jack smiled. "And Aunt Mabel, have you seen her lately?"

"Oh, yes! she's very well, and doesn't seem to alter at all. She oftentalks of you, and is always sad because you never write. Why have younever been to see her?"

"I have seen her once. I passed her in the street in Melchester; but Iwas in uniform, and she didn't notice me. "

"But why didn't you go over to Brenlands?"

"Oh, I couldn't do that! I struck out a path for myself. It may be abit rough, like the way of transgressors always is; but it suits mewell enough. I've been in it now for three years, and mean to stick toit; but it'll never bring me to Brenlands again. "

"Oh, yes, it will, " answered the other cheerily, "At the end of thelong lane comes the turning. "

There was another pause; the conversation had been running more freely, but now Jack fell back again into his former manner. 

"I beg pardon, sir, but I should like to ask if you'll be good enoughnot to mention my name in any of your letters home. "

"Why not?"

"I should be glad, sir, if you wouldn't. I've managed hitherto to keepmy secret. "

"Well, if it's your wish, for the present I won't, " answered Valentine;"but if we both live through this business, then I shall have somethingto say to you on the subject. "

"Good-night, sir. "

"Good-night, old chap, and good luck to us both!"

CHAPTER XVII

UNDER FIRE. 

"The tin soldier trembled; yet he remained firm; his countenance didnot change; he looked straight before him, and shouldered hismusket. "--_The Brave Tin Soldier_. 

Five days afterwards the camp was all astir, and presented an unusualscene of activity and animation. 

On the twenty-eighth of December, orders had been issued for a portionof the force to march across the desert and occupy the wells at Gakdul;and on this, the morning of the thirtieth, the Guards Camel Regimentand the Mounted Infantry (to which latter force Jack and his comradesof the Royal Blankshire were attached), together with detachments ofthe Engineers and Medical Staff Corps, a squadron of the 19th Hussars, and a large train of "baggagers, " were preparing for the start, amidmuch bugle-blowing, shouting of orders, and roaring of camels as theloads were being placed on their backs. Gradually, as the hourapproached for the assembly of the force, the noise grew less; even"Lamentations" ceased his protestations, and stalked off to the paradeground without further murmuring. 

Lord Wolseley inspected the force, and shortly before three o'clock thecavalry scouts started. As Jack stood by the side of his kneelingsteed, with Joe Crouch on his right, his heart beat fast. This wassomething different from any of his previous military experiences; thecartridges in his pouch and bandoleer were ball, not blank. It was tobe the real thing this time; the stern reality of what he and Valentinehad so often pictured and played at far away in the peaceful old houseat Brenlands. 

Though showing it in different ways, all his comrades were more or lessexcited at the prospect of a move: some were silent, others unusuallynoisy; Joe Crouch puffed incessantly at a little clay pipe; SergeantSparks seemed to have grown ten years younger, and overflowed withreminiscences of Afghanistan and the Ghazees; while Lieutenant Lawsonmight, from his high spirits and cheery behaviour, have been juststarting on a hunting expedition or some pleasure excursion. 

At last it came: "Prepare to mount!"

"Well, here goes!" said Jack, drawing his steed's head round, andputting his foot in the stirrup. "Here goes!" echoed Joe Crouch. 

"Mount!" The bugle sounded the advance, the word was given, and thecolumn moved off across the undulating plain--the Guards in front, baggage camels in the centre, and the Mounted Infantry bringing up therear; the length of the column extending to nearly a mile. 

Scared gazelles sprang up from among the rocks and bushes, and boundedaway. 

"Hi, Swabs! where's yer catapult?" inquired Tommy Briggs. 

"Keepin' it for the niggers, " answered the marksman significantly. 

After an hour's going, many of the riders sought to ease themselves, and vary the peculiar swaying motion by a change of position: somecrossed their legs in front of them; while Jack and his chum satside-saddle, facing each other, and for the twentieth time that dayexchanged opinions as to when and where they would first come in touchwith the enemy. 

In addition to the heat, the clouds of dust raised by the force infront rendered it choky work for those in rear; and no one was sorrywhen, about five o'clock, the bugles sounded the halt. 

Jack dismounted, feeling uncommonly sore and stiff, but was soon busilyengaged helping to make fires of dry grass and mimosa scrub, on whichto boil the camp kettles for tea. 

Never, even when poured from Queen Mab's old silver teapot, had thesteaming beverage tasted so refreshing; and the men, sitting round ingroups, mess-tin in hand, seemed to regard the whole business in thelight of a gigantic picnic. The sun dropped below the horizon; andafter a rest of about an hour and a half, the march was continued, thecolumn closing up and proceeding with a broadened front. 

The clear, brilliant light of the moon flooded the scene with silverysplendour, throwing up in strange contrast the black, dark hills in thedistance. Gradually, as the men grew sleepy, their laughter andconversation died away, the padded feet of the camels made no sound asthey passed over the sand, and the silence remained unbroken save forthe occasional yelping bark of some hungry jackal. Jack felt cold anddrowsy, and, in spite of the movement of his camel, had hard work tokeep awake. 

Once or twice, when the loads of some of the baggagers slipped, a haltwas called while they were refixed; and men, dismounting from theirsaddles, fell fast asleep on the sand, only to be roused again in whatseemed a moment later by the "advance" being sounded. 

Hours seemed drawn out into weeks, and Jack, glancing with heavy eyesto his left front, wondered if the sky would ever brighten with thesigns of dawn. At length the east grew grey, then flushed with pink, and the sun rose with the red glare of a conflagration, sending a glowof warmth across the desert. For about two hours the march wascontinued; then, at a spot where a number of trees were growing, a haltwas made, camels unloaded, and preparations made for a well-earnedbreakfast. 

In spite of the excitement of this first bivouac, as soon as the mealwas over Jack stretched himself out upon the ground and fell fastasleep, only returning to consciousness when wakened by the flies andmidday heat; and so ended his first experience of a desert march. 

For the purposes of this story it will not be necessary to followclosely all our hero's doings during the next fortnight; and we shalltherefore rest content with describing, as briefly as possible, themovements of the force during that period of time which preceded itscoming in actual contact with the enemy. 

Starting again on the afternoon of the thirty-first of December, thecolumn pushed forward with occasional halts, until, early on themorning of the second of January, Gakdul was reached, and the wellsoccupied without resistance. Leaving the Guards and Engineers togarrison the place, the rest of the column marched the same evening onthe return journey to Korti, to collect and bring on the remainingtroops and stores necessary for continuing the advance to Metemmeh. Ten days later, the remainder of the force arrived at Gakdul; and aftera day spent in watering and attending to arms and ammunition, a startwas made on the afternoon of the fourteenth in the direction of AbuKlea. Soon after sunset the column halted, and resuming the marchearly on the following morning, by five o'clock in the evening hadreached Jebel-es-Sergain, or the Hill of the Saddle, which was to bethe resting-place for the night. 

The men lay down as usual, with piled arms in front and camels in rear;the order for perfect silence was hardly needed; the sandywater-channels made a comfortable couch for wearied limbs; and thetired warriors were glad enough to wrap themselves in their blankets, and enjoy a few hours of well-earned repose. 

In spite of the long and fatiguing day through which he had justpassed, Jack did not fall asleep at once, like the majority of hiscomrades. Ever since his meeting with Valentine, his mind had beencontinually going back to the days when they were at school together;and now, in the solemn stillness of the desert, as he lay gazing up atthe bright, starlit sky, his thoughts flew back to Brenlands, and hepictured up the dear face that had always been the chief of the manyattractions that made the place so pleasant. He almost wished now thathe had written to her before leaving England. She knew where Valentinewas, and every morning would glance with beating heart at the warheadings in the newspaper. It would have been a great satisfaction tofeel confident of having a share in her loving thoughts. SinceChristmas Day, our hero had only caught an occasional glimpse of hiscousin, but that was sufficient to revive his old love for the bright, frank-looking face. 

"He's just the same as ever, " thought Jack. "Well, I hope he'll getthrough this all right. There are the girls, and Aunt Mabel--it wouldbe dreadful if anything happened!" And with this reflection FenleighJ. Turned over and fell asleep. 

Before daybreak next morning the column was once more on the move, crossing a large waste of sand and gravel, relieved here and there bystretches of black rock; while, bordering the plain on either side, were ranges of hills, which gradually approached each other until, inthe distance, they formed the pass through which ran the track leadingto the wells of Abu Klea. 

The march was now beginning to tell upon the camels, which, weakened byfatigue and short allowance of forage, fell down in large numbersthrough sheer exhaustion, throwing the transport into great confusion. 

Shortly before mid-day the force halted at the foot of a steep slopefor the usual morning meal of tea and bully beef. 

"I shan't be sorry when we get to those wells, " said Jack, sipping atthe lid of his mess-tin; "I've been parched with thirst ever since weleft Gakdul. I wonder it we shall reach them this evening!"

"I don't reckon it's much further, " answered Joe Crouch. "I heard theNineteenth are going on ahead to water their horses. Look! they'rejust off. "

Jack watched the Hussars as they disappeared over the brow of the hill. 

"Lucky beggars!" he muttered, and lying down upon his bed he pulled hishelmet over his eyes, and prepared for a quiet snooze before the ordershould be given to mount. 

He had been dozing, and was in the dreamy stage between waking andsleeping, when his attention was attracted by a conversation which wastaking place in his immediate vicinity. A few yards away, LieutenantLawson was sitting on the ground rearranging the folds of his putties, and talking to another subaltern. 

"I shouldn't have brought a thing like that with me, " the latter wassaying; "you might lose it. Any old silver one's good enough for thisjob, especially if you get bowled over, and some villain picks yourpockets. "

"Well, I hadn't another, " answered Lawson; "and, after all, it didn'tcost me much. I knew a fellow at Melchester, called Fosberton, anawful young ass. He got into debt, and was hard pushed to raise thewind. He wanted me to buy this. I was rather sorry for the chap, so Igave him five pounds for it, and told him he could have it back if hechose to refund the money; but he left the town soon after that, andI've never heard from him since. Hallo! What's up now?"

A couple of horsemen were galloping down the slope, and a few minuteslater the command was passed back from the front, --

"Fall in! Examine arms and ammunition!"

The men sprang forward to the row of piled arms, and then, like anelectric current, the report passed from one to another--the enemy wasin sight!

"Cast loose one packet of your ammunition, " said the commander of thecompany. 

Jack's fingers twitched with excitement as he pulled off the string ofthe familiar little brown paper parcel, and dropped the ten cartridgesinto his pouch. It was the real thing now, and no mistake!

Moving forward in line of columns, the force ascended the slope, andafter one more brief halt, while further reconnaissances were beingmade, began to advance across the level stretch beyond, from which agood view was obtained of the distant valley of Abu Klea, with thesteep hills rising on either side, and opening out at the entrance ofthe pass. 

"There they are!"

Far away, on the dark, rocky eminences, crowds of tiny, white-robedfigures could be clearly distinguished moving and gesticulating in anexcited manner. 

Steadily the force advanced until, when within a comparatively shortdistance of the mouth of the valley, the word for "close order" wasgiven. The camels were driven forward into a solid mass in rear of theleading company as it halted; the men dismounted, and knee-lashed theirsteeds. 

There was not much time for looking about, for the order wasimmediately given to build a zareba; and while some men were set towork to cut down brushwood, Jack and his comrades were told off togather stones for constructing a breastwork. 

"Look alive, my lads!" said Sergeant Sparks, "and get whatever you can. Hallo!" he added; "they've begun, have they?"

Jack had heard something like the sound of the swift flight of aswallow far overhead, but he did not understand its significance until, a moment later, the sound was repeated, and on the ground in front ofhim there suddenly appeared a mark, as though some one had struck thesand with the point of an invisible stick, leaving behind a short, deepgroove, and causing a handful of dust to spring into the air. Far awayon the distant hillside was a tiny puff of smoke, and as he looked thefaint pop of the rifle reached his ear. Then the truth dawned on him:this was his baptism of fire--a long-range fire, to be sure, but nonethe less deadly if the bullet found its billet!

He caught up a fragment of rock, and carried it to where the wall wasto be constructed. Men were hurrying to and fro all around him, andyet suddenly he seemed to feel himself alone, the sole mark for theenemy's fire; again that z--st overhead, and a cold chill ran down hisback. He shut his teeth, and, with a careless air, strode off for afresh load. He had not gone twenty yards when another shot ricochettedoff a stone, and flew up into the air with a shrill chirrup. Jackwinced and shivered. It was no good, however well he might conceal thefact from others--the fear of death was on him; it was impossible todeceive his own heart. A fresh terror now seized him, coupled with asense of shame. He was the fellow who had always expressed a wish tobe a soldier, and go on active service; and now, before the firstfeeble spitting of the enemy's fire, all his courage was ebbing away. What if his comrades should notice that his limbs trembled and hisvoice was shaky? What if, when the advance was made, his nerve shouldfail him altogether, and he should turn to run?

With dogged energy he pursued his task, hardly noticing what was goingon around him. For the fourth time he was approaching the zareba, whena comrade, a dozen yards in front, stumbled forward and sank down uponthe ground. There was no cry, no frantic leap into the air, yet it wassufficiently horrible. Jack felt sick, and his teeth chattered; he hadnever before seen a man hit, and it was his first experience of thesacrifice of human flesh and blood. At the same moment, like a clap ofthunder, one of the screw-guns was discharged; the droning whizz of theshell grew fainter and fainter--a pause--and then the boom of itsexplosion was returned in a muffled echo from the distant hillside. 

A couple of men hurried forward and raised their wounded comrade. Jackturned away his eyes, and immediately they encountered a ratherdifferent spectacle. 

A young subaltern, with a short brier pipe in his mouth, and without ahair on his face, was making a playful pretence of dropping a hugeboulder on to the toes of the lieutenant of Jack's detachment. 

"Hold the ball--no side!" said Mr. Lawson facetiously. "Look here, Mostyn, you beggar! I've just spotted a fine rock, only it's too bigfor one to carry. Come and help to bring it in; it's a chance for youto distinguish yourself. Look sharp! or some of the Tommies will havebagged it. "

Something in this speech, and the careless, happy-go-lucky way in whichit was uttered, seemed to revive Jack's spirits. Mr. Lawson recognizedand spoke to him as he passed. 

"Well, Fenleigh, they've begun to shake the pepper-box at us; but it'llbe our turn to-morrow. "

There was nothing in the remark itself, but there was something in thecheery tone and manly face of the speaker; something that brought freshcourage to the soldier's heart, and filled it with a suddendetermination to emulate the example of his leader. 

"Yes, sir, " he answered briskly, and from that moment his fears werebanished. 

Slowly the construction of the zareba was completed--a low, stone wallin front, and earthen parapets and abattis of mimosa bushes on theother three sides. The enemy still continued a dropping fire, whichwas replied to with occasional rounds of shrapnel from the guns; butJack saw no further casualties. 

Once, during the work of collecting stones, he encountered Valentine. 

"I say, " remarked the latter, acknowledging his cousin's salute with anod and a smile, "this reminds me of the time when we went up the riverwith the girls to Starncliff, and built up a fireplace to boil thekettle. "

When darkness fell, the force was assembled within the zareba; the lowbreastwork was manned in double rank, every soldier lying down in hisfighting place, with belts on, rifle by his side, and bayonet fixed;all lights were extinguished, and talking and smoking forbidden. Inspite of the day's exertions, few men felt inclined for sleep; thedrumming of tom-toms, and the occasional whistle of a bullet overhead, were not very effective as a lullaby, and served as a constant reminderof the coming struggle. 

Jack settled himself into as comfortable a position as his belts andaccoutrements would allow, and lay gazing up at the silent, starlitsky. What was death? and what came after? Before another night hehimself might know. Lying there in perfect health, it seemedimpossible to realize that before another night his life might haveended. He turned his thoughts to Brenlands. Yes; he would like tohave said good-bye to Aunt Mabel, and to have had once more theassurance from her own lips that he was still "my own boy Jack!"

"I always make a mess of everything, " he said to himself. "I thought Ishould always have had Brenlands to go to; and first of all I gotchucked out of the school a year before I need have left, and then thishappens about the watch. In both cases I've Raymond Fosberton tothank, in a great measure, for what happened. I'll pay him out if everI get the chance. "

The thought of his cousin brought back to his mind the recollection ofthe conversation he had overheard that morning. Strange that Mr. Lawson should have known Raymond! Jack wondered what the monetarytransaction could have been that had been alluded to by his officer. 

Gradually a sense of drowsiness crept over him, and his heavy head sankback upon the sand. 

"Stand to your arms!" He clutched instinctively at the rifle by hisside, and rose to his feet; the noise of the tom-toms seemed close athand. 

"They're coming!" But no; it was a false alarm. Once more the mensettled down, and silence fell on the zareba. Suddenly there was awild yell from one of the sleepers. 

"What's up there?--man hit?"

"No--silly chump!--only dreaming!"

Again Jack dozed off, to be wakened, after what seemed only a moment offorgetfulness, by Joe Crouch shaking him by the shoulder. The word wasonce more being passed along, "Stand to your arms!" and the men laywith their hands upon their rifles. Daybreak was near, and an attackmight be expected at any moment. 

The sky was ghostly with the coming dawn, the air raw and cold. Jackshivered, and "wished for the day. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE BATTLE. 

"Then he heard a roaring sound, quite terrible enough to frighten thebravest man. "--_The Brave Tin Soldier_. 

Numbed with the cold, and stiff from lying so long in a crampedposition, Jack and many of his comrades rose as the daylightstrengthened, to stretch their legs and stamp some feeling into theirfeet. As they did so, however, the dropping shots of the enemy rapidlyincreased to a sharp fusilade; bullets whizzed overhead, or knocked uplittle spurts of sand and dust within the zareba; and the defenderswere glad enough to once more seek the shelter of the low wall andparapet of earth. Several men were wounded, and the surgeons commencedtheir arduous duties--services which so often demand the exercise ofthe highest courage and devotion, and yet seldom meet with their dueshare of recognition in the records of the battlefield. Ever and anonthe screw-guns thundered a reply to the popping of the distant riflefire, and men raised their heads to watch the effect of the shrapnel, as each shot sped away on its deadly errand. 

Even amid such surroundings, hunger asserted itself; and breakfast wasserved out, a good draught of hot tea being specially acceptable afterthe long exposure to the cold night air. 

"When you're on active service, eat and sleep whenever you can, " saidSergeant Sparks, munching away at his bully beef and biscuit. "There'snever no telling when you'll get another chance. "

Bands of the enemy kept appearing and disappearing in the distance;spear-heads and sword-blades flashed and glittered in the rosy morningsunlight, and the tom-toms kept up a continual thunder; but still therewas no sign of an attack. 

Jack longed to be doing something. He lay on the ground nervouslydigging pits with his fingers in the soft sand, listening to themonotonous murmur of conversation going on around him, and the constantz--st! z--st! of bullets flying over and into the zareba. Now andagain he exchanged a few remarks with "Swabs" or Joe Crouch; and whenat length he was told off to join a party of skirmishers, he sprang upand seized his rifle with a sigh of relief. 

Moving out in extended order to the right front of the zareba, theymarched forward a short distance, then halted, and lay down to fire avolley. 

"Ready, at eleven hundred yards. Now, men, be steady, and take yourtime. "

"Swabs" was in his element. He sprawled his legs wide apart, rootedhis left elbow into the sand, and settled down as though he were firingfor the battalion badge on the range at Melchester. Our hero was notquite so cool; his heart thumped and his fingers twitched as headjusted the sliding bar of his back-sight. 

"Aim low--present--fire!"

The rifles were discharged with a simultaneous crash. 

"Good volley, " said Mr. Lawson, who was kneeling, peering through hisfield-glass; "a bit short, I'm afraid; put your sights up toeleven-fifty. "

Jack opened the breach of his rifle with a sharp jerk, and drew a longbreath. For the life of him he could not have told whether his aim hadbeen good or bad, but this much he knew, that he had fired his firstshot in actual conflict. 

The skirmishers retired; but still the enemy hung back, too wary toattempt a charge. At length the order was given for an advance, andpreparations were accordingly made for forming a moving square. Thevarious detachments marched out of the zareba and lay down as they tookup their positions. Camels for carrying the wounded, and conveyingwater and reserve ammunition, were drawn up in the centre; the two gunsand the Gardiner with its crew of sailors taking positions respectivelywithin the front and rear faces of the formation. 

Jack raised himself and looked round, anxious, if possible, to make outthe whereabouts of his cousin. He could distinguish "Heavies, "Blue-jackets, and the Guards, but Valentine and the ----sex men werestationed somewhere out of sight on the other side of the central massof baggagers and their drivers. A short wait, and then came theorder, --

"Rise up! The square will advance!"

Two deep, as in the days of the "thin red line, " the men marchedforward, stumbling over rocky hillocks and deep water-ruts, vainlyattempting to keep unbroken their solid formation, and delayed by theslow movement of the guns and camels. The Arabs, swarming on eitherflank, opened a heavy fire. The flight of the bullets filled the airwith a continual buzz. Men dropped right and left, and a halt was madewhile the wounded were placed on the cacolets. The sides of the squareturned outwards, the Mounted Infantry formed its left-front corner, andJack and his comrades were in the left face. 

"Why can't we give 'em a volley?" murmured "Swabs, " gazing at thefeathery puffs of smoke on the distant hillside, which looked soinnocent, but each of which might mean death to the spectator. Noorder, however, was given to fire, and the command, "Rightturn--forward!" put the marksman and his comrades once more in motion. 

To walk along and be shot at was not exactly the ideal warfare of hisboyhood: but Jack had been "blooded" by this time, and trudged alongwith a set face, paying little attention to the leaden hail which sweptoverhead, and only wishing that something would happen to bring mattersto a crisis. 

A few minutes later his attention was turned to the line ofskirmishers, who were moving, some little distance away, in a directionparallel to the march of the square. Suddenly, close to two of these, a couple of Arabs sprang up from behind some bushes. One rushed uponthe nearest Englishman; but the latter parried the spear-thrust, andwithout a pause drove his bayonet through his adversary's chest. Theother native turned and ran. 

"Bang! bang!" went a couple of rifle shots; but the fugitive escapeduntouched, and disappeared behind the brow of an adjacent knoll. 

"See that, Lawson?" inquired a voice from the supernumerary rank. 

"Yes, " answered the subaltern, "like potting rabbits. I think I couldhave wiped that fellow's eye if I'd been there. The bayonet _versus_lance was done better. "

Jack glanced round, and saw the speaker smoking a pipe, while SergeantSparks tramped along close behind with an approving smile upon hisface, as though, if questioned, he would have made exactly the sameobservation himself. It was no time to be fastidious or sentimental;the callous indifference to life and death, whether real or assumed, was the thing wanted. Here, at least, were two superiors who did notseem to consider the situation very serious. The young soldier shiftedhis rifle to the other shoulder, and grasped the butt with a firmergrip. 

For an hour, which might have been a lifetime, the square toiled on, every now and again changing direction to gain more open ground; thestretchers and cacolets constantly receiving fresh burdens. A man, twofiles in front of our hero, went down with a bullet through the head, and those in rear stumbled over him. 

"Close up! close up, and keep that corner blocked in!"

With mouth parched with the stifling heat and dust, Jack sucked at thelukewarm dregs of his water-bottle, and wondered if the river itselfwould ever quench his thirst. "Swabs, " his rear-rank man, keptfingering the loose cartridges in his pouch. At length the marksman'spatience and _sang froid_ seemed exhausted. 

"Is this going on for ever?" he blurted out, "Ain't we ever going togive it 'em back?"

Hardly had the question been asked, when the answer was made evident ina most unmistakable manner. 

Away in the grass to the left front a number of white and green flags, mounted on long poles, had been for some time visible; and at thispoint, as though they sprang out of the ground, swarms of Arabssuddenly made their appearance, and with headlong speed and recklessdevotion charged down upon the left-front corner of the square. Thescattered line of skirmishers turned and fled for their lives; whilebehind them, like a devouring tidal wave, the vast black mass rushedforward, their fierce shouts filling the air with a hollow roar likethat of a ground sea. 

Like many another young soldier, with nothing but a few hundred yardsof desert between himself and death, Jack's first impulse was to raisehis rifle and blaze away at random as fast as he could load; but theclear, calm voices in the supernumerary rank, and the old habit ofdiscipline, held him in check. 

"Steady, men:--Aim low--Fire a volley!"

Another moment, and the black mass with its waving banners andglittering weapons disappeared in a burst of fire and smoke, as therifles spoke with a simultaneous crash. Again, and yet again, thevivid sheet of flame flashed from the side of the square; then, throughthe drifting fog, it was seen that the enemy were apparently changingthe direction of their attack. Falling in scores before the terrible, scythe-like sweep of the volley firing, they swerved round the flank ofthe square and burst furiously upon the rear. 

[Illustration: "The enemy swerved round the flank of the square, andburst furiously upon the rear. "]

Rapid independent firing had succeeded the regular volleys, and Jackwas in the act of using his rifle, when he became conscious of a shockand swaying movement, like the commencement of a Rugby scrimmage. Heturned, and saw in a moment what had happened: by sheer weight ofnumbers, the overpowering rush of Arabs had forced back the thin lineof "Heavies, " and a fierce hand-to-hand fight was in progress. Whathad been the interior of the square was now covered with a confusedmass of struggling combatants, dimly seen through clouds of dust andsmoke. Desperate fanatics hacked and stabbed with their heavy swordsand long spears, while burly giants of the Guards returned equallydeadly strokes with butt and sword-bayonet. Shouts, cries, and wordsof command mingled in a general uproar, half-drowned in the incessantdin of the firing. 

How long this awful contest lasted, or exactly what happened, Jackcould never clearly remember. He was conscious that the rear rank hadturned about, and of a vision of "Swabs" standing like a man shootingrabbits in a cover, with his rifle at his shoulder, waiting for achance of a clear shot. Turning again to his front, he noticed thefellow on his right working frantically at his lever, and sobbing withrage and excitement over a jammed cartridge-case. "Knock it out withyour cleaning-rod!" he yelled, and thrust another round into the breachof his own weapon, determined, if this were the end, to make a hardfight of the finish. 

At length the pressure seemed to grow less, and then ceased; the enemywavered, then turned and began to slowly retreat, hesitating every nowand again, even in face of the withering rifle fire, as thoughhalf-minded to renew their attack. Some turned and shook their fists, while others, with the fanatic's unconquerable spirit and recklessvalour, rushed back singly, only to fall long before they reached thehated foe. 

Once the threatening attitude of the retiring masses raised the cry of"Close up! they're coming again!" But a well-directed volley settledthe question, and the last stragglers soon disappeared behind thedistant sandhills. 

Cheer on cheer rose from the square, and Jack, grounding the butt ofhis heated weapon, joined in with a right good will, for he had foughthis first battle, and his heart throbbed with the triumph of victory. 

But even now the conflict was not quite over. Arab marksmen were stilllurking in the broken ground, and one of them suddenly rose into viewfrom behind a rock. Levelling his piece he fired, and Mr. Lawson, who, revolver in hand, had stepped into a gap in the ranks, fell forward onhis face, the blood gushing in a crimson torrent from his mouth. Atthe same moment "Greek met Greek;" for "Swabs, " throwing his rifle intohis shoulder fired, and the Arab sharpshooter tossed up his arms anddropped out of sight behind a rock. 

Our hero fell upon his knees with something like a sob, and attemptedto raise the fallen man. There was no lack of assistance. Mr. Lawsonwas one of those officers for whose sake men are always ready and gladto risk their lives; but the boldest among them could do nothing forhim now, and a moment or so later he died in Jack's arms. 

"He's gone, right enough, poor fellow!" said Captain Hamling, thecommander of the company, who had hurried to the spot. "See what's inhis pockets, Fenleigh. It there's anything of value, it must be takencare of, and sent to his people. "

Jack did as he was ordered. A pipe, tobacco-pouch, jack-knife, androlled bandage were the chief things he found; and he handed them tothe captain. There was still the breast-pocket of the tunic, and thison examination was found to contain a small letter-case and a handsomegold watch. Jack glanced at the timepiece, and very nearly let it dropfrom his fingers to the ground; he knew it in a moment--the losttreasure which years ago had been stolen from Queen Mab's cupboard. This then was the thing which Raymond Fosberton had parted with forfive pounds. 

 * * * * *

The square moved on a short distance to ground less encumbered with theslain, and then halted. The carnage was awful; dead and dying of theenemy lay in heaps where they had fallen, mown down by the deadly fireof the Martinis; while among them on the knoll where the square hadbeen broken, and in many cases hardly recognizable from the blood anddust which covered their forms and faces, were the bodies of theEnglishmen who had perished in the fray. 

Orders were now given for burying the dead, collecting the arms andammunition, and destroying the useless weapons that lay scattered aboutin all directions; and it was while engaged in this latter duty thatJack encountered his cousin. 

"I've just been inquiring for you. Thank God, you're safe!"

In spite of all that he had just passed through, Jack's thoughts werenot fixed upon the fighting or dearly-won victory. 

"O Val!" he blurted out, "I've found that watch--the one that wasstolen at Brenlands!"

In a few hurried sentences he described the conversation he hadoverheard, and the discovery of the timepiece in the dead lieutenant'spocket. The dread scene around him was for the moment forgotten in hisanxiety to clear his character from the doubts which he imagined muststill be entertained to a certain extent by his former friend. 

"So you see, sir, " he concluded, "I can now prove that I'm no thief. Raymond Fosberton stole it. I wish you'd ask Captain Hamling to showit to you, sir, and then you'd know I'm speaking the truth. "

Valentine listened to this extraordinary revelation in open-eyedastonishment. 

"There's no need for that, " he answered--"I'll ask to see it if it'syour particular wish--but, Jack, I wish you would believe that what Isay is true, and that neither I nor Queen Mab ever for a momentimagined that you were the thief. You may doubt us, but we have neverlost faith in you. "

CHAPTER XIX. 

"FOOD FOR POWDER. "

"And so he lay quite still, while the shot rattled through the rushes, and gun after gun was fired over him. "--_The Ugly Duckling_. 

At last the wells were reached, and after the wants of the wounded hadbeen supplied, Jack and his comrades got a chance of quenching theirparching thirst. 

Water! It was a moving sight--a crowd of men standing round a pit, atthe bottom of which appeared a little puddle, which when emptied outwould gradually drain in again, the spectators watching its progresswith greedy eyes. Never had "Duster's" celebrated home-madeginger-beer tasted so refreshing as this muddy liquid. Jack sighed inan ecstasy of enjoyment as he gulped it down, and Joe Crouch remarkedthat he wished his throat was as long as a "hostridge's. "

A body of three hundred men from the Guards, Heavies, and MountedInfantry started on a return journey to the zareba to bring up thebaggage, and the remainder of the force bivouacked near the wells. Thenight was fearfully cold; the men had nothing but the thin sergejumpers which they had worn during the heat of the day to protect themagainst the bitter night air. Shivering and gnawed with hunger, Jack, Joe Crouch, "Swabs, " and two more men huddled together in a heap; andfinding it impossible to sleep, endeavoured to stay the cravings oftheir empty stomachs with an occasional whiff of tobacco, those whowere without pipes obtaining the loan of one from a more fortunatecomrade. Jack's thoughts wandered back to Brenlands, and he smiledgrimly to himself at the recollection of that first camping-outexperience, and of Queen Mab's words as she promised them a supply ofrugs and cushions, "Perhaps some day you won't be so well off. " Hismind was still full of his recent discovery. The thought that hisfriends must regard him as guilty of the theft, and the feeling that hecould never give them proof to the contrary, had rankled in his heartmore, perhaps, than he himself suspected; and now that he had at lastdiscovered a solution to the riddle, and could prove beyond thepossibility of a doubt who was the guilty party, he longed to ease hissoul by talking the matter over with some one who knew thecircumstances of the case. Joe Crouch was the very man. 

"Joe. "

"Yes. "

"You remember my cousin, Raymond Fosberton?"

Joe was not in the best of humours; he was cold, and his pipe had goneout. 

"Yes, I do, " he grumbled. "I wish I had him here now in his whiteweskit and them shiny boots!" The speaker drew hard at his empty clay, which gave forth a fierce croak, as though it thoroughly approved ofits owner's sentiments. 

"D'you remember that time when the watch was stolen out of MissFenleigh's cupboard?"

"Yes; and that Fosberton said it might 'a been me as took it, andMaster Valentine told me afterwards that you said that though I'dstolen some pears once, you knew I was honest. Ay, but I thought ofthat the morning I seen you come into the barrack-room. And then hetold them as it was you 'ad done it. My eye! if I had him here now, I'd knock his face out through the back of his head!" The clay pipeliterally crowed with rage. 

"Well, you may be interested to hear that it was Raymond Fosbertonhimself who took the watch. " And Jack proceeded to tell the story ofhis find. 

"So he stole it himself, did he?" exclaimed Crouch, as the narrativeconcluded. "Law me! if I had him here, I'd--"

"Never mind!" interrupted the other, laughing. "I may have a chance ofsettling up with him myself some day. "

"What shall you do when you see him?"

"Oh, I don't know!" answered Jack. "I daresay I shall have my revenge. "

Joe relapsed into silence, but for some time sudden squeaks from hispipe showed that he was still meditating on the terrible vengeancewhich he would mete out to Raymond Fosberton, should that gentlemanleave his comfortable lodgings in England and appear unexpectedly inthe Bayuda Desert. 

 * * * * *

At length the morning came, and with it the report that thebaggage-train was in sight. The news was welcome, and the work ofknee-lashing and unloading the camels did not take long. The previousmorning's hasty breakfast under fire had not been, by any means, asatisfying meal; and so, after a fast of nearly two days, the prospectof food made the men active enough in unpacking the stores. 

Jack seized his ration of bully beef and biscuit with the fierceeagerness of a famished wolf; cold, hunger, and weary, sleepless nightshad never been the lot of the lead troops campaigning on thelumber-room floor at Brenlands, or of their commanders either; nor, forthe matter of that, is it usual for youthful, would-be warriors toassociate such things with the triumph of a victory. 

Our hero had finished his meal, and was cleaning his rifle, when he wasaccosted by Joe Crouch. 

"I say, Mr. Fenleigh wants to see you. He's over there by the guns. "

Valentine was standing talking to some of his fellow-officers. Heturned away from the group as he saw his cousin approaching, and thelatter halted and accorded him the customary salute. 

"Look here, " said the subaltern, "the general is sending dispatchesback to Korti, and the officers have the opportunity of telegraphing totheir friends in England. I'm going to send a message home to let themknow I'm all right. Shall I put in a word for you? I'm sure, " addedthe speaker, "that Aunt Mabel would be glad to know that you are here, and quite sate and sound after the fighting. "

Jack hesitated, but there was no sign yet of the long lane turning. 

"It's very good of you, sir, " he answered, "but I'd rather they didn'tknow my whereabouts. If I live through this, and return to England, Ishall still be a private soldier. I'm much obliged to you, sir, allthe same. "

He saluted again, and walked away. Valentine looked after theretreating figure with a queer, sad smile upon his face. 

"You're a difficult fish to deal with, " he muttered; "but we shall landyou again some day, though I hardly know how. "

Late in the afternoon the column was once more in motion, and thencommenced an experience which Jack, and all those who shared in it, have probably never forgotten. At first the march was orderly, but, asthe hours went by, progress became more and more difficult. Camels, half-starved and exhausted, lagged and fell, causing continual delayand confusion. The desert track having been abandoned in order toavoid possible collision with the enemy, the road lay at one timethrough a jungle of mimosa trees and bushes, when the disorder wasincreased tenfold--baggagers slipped their loads, and ranks opening outto avoid obstacles found it impossible in the dark to regain theiroriginal formation. Utterly unable to keep awake, men fell asleep asthey rode, drifting out of their places, some, indeed, straying offinto the darkness, never to be seen again. 

Worn out, and chilled to the bone with the bitter night air, Jack clungto his saddle, dozing and waking; dreaming for an instant that QueenMab was speaking to him, and rousing with a start as the word waspassed, "Halt in front!" to allow time for the rear-guard closing upwith the stragglers. At each of these pauses poor "Lamentations" kneltof his own accord; and his rider, dropping down on the sand by hisside, fell into a deep sleep, to be awakened by the complaining gruntsof the camels as the word, "All right in rear!" gave the signal for afresh start. 

After each stoppage it was no easy matter to get the weary animals ontheir legs again; and almost equally difficult in many instances torouse their riders from the heavy slumber into which they fell themoment they stretched themselves upon the ground. 

"Pass the word on, 'All right in rear!'"

"Oh, dear! I'd give a month's pay for an hour's sleep, " mumbled JoeCrouch. 

"Get up, you fool!" answered Jack, kicking the recumbent figure of hiscomrade. "D'you want to be left behind?"

On, on, through the endless darkness, now for a moment unconscious, nowhalf awake, but always with the sense of being cold and weary, the longnight march seemed to last a lifetime. Then, as sometimes happens insimilar circumstances, a half-forgotten tune took possession of histired brain, the once familiar melody of Queen Mab's hymn; and in adreamy fashion he kept humming it over and over again, sometimes theair alone, and sometimes with snatches of the words, as they came backto his memory. 

 "Rest comes at length;. .. .. . The day must dawn, and darksome night be past. "

His head sank forward on his breast. It was Sunday evening atBrenlands, and Helen was playing the piano. Queen Mab was standingclose at his side; and yet, somehow, the whole world lay between them. "You may doubt us, but we have never lost faith in you. " He turned tosee who spoke, and the figures in his dream vanished, leaving only theecho of their voices in his mind. 

 ". .. .. . Angels of light! Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night!"

The tune was still droning in his head when the first grey streaks ofdawn gave warning of the approaching day, and, in the growing light, the column gradually regained its proper formation. 

The line of march lay down a vast slope covered with grass and shrubs, which stretched away towards the distant Nile, as yet out of sight; andere long word was received from the cavalry scouts that the enemy, inlarge numbers, were close at hand. 

Once more the bullets of the sharpshooters whistled overhead; and theArabs appearing in considerable force on the left flank, the column washalted on the summit of a low knoll, and orders were issued for theconstruction of a zareba. 

All hands now set to work to unload the camels and build walls ofsaddles, biscuit-boxes, and other stores--parapets formed of almost asincongruous materials as the old domino and pocket-knife works behindwhich the lead warriors took shelter at Brenlands. Skirmishers werethrown out to keep down the enemy's fire; but the men were worn out, and having nothing to aim at but the feathery puffs of smoke risingamidst the distant grass and bushes, they failed to dislodge the Arabmarksmen. 

Jack and his comrades "lay low, " glad to avail themselves of theshelter afforded by the side of the zareba. The bullets whizzedoverhead, or struck the biscuit-boxes with a sharp smack, while somedropped with a sickening thud into the mass of camels. They werepatient sufferers, and even when struck made no sound or attempt tomove. Stretchers being constantly carried to and fro showed that themedical staff had plenty of work; but it was not until some hours laterthat the news leaked out among the men that Sir Herbert Stewart himselfwas mortally wounded. 

Feeling inclined for a smoke, and having no tobacco about him, our heroasked permission to fetch a supply from the zuleetah-bag attached tohis saddle. "Lamentations" acknowledged his approach with the usualgrumble; but it was the last greeting he was ever destined to give hismaster. A bullet flew past with a sharp zip, the poor beast startedand shivered, and a thin stream of blood trickled down his shoulder. Poor "Lam!" he was unclean and unsavoury, an inveterate grumbler, andpossessed apparently of a chronic cold in his nose; his temper was noneof the best--he had kicked, and on one occasion had attempted to bite, he had fought his comrades in the lines, and had got the picketingropes into dire confusion; but, for all that, he was a living thing, and Jack, who was fond of all dumb creatures, watched him with tears inhis eyes. It did not last long: the unshapely head sank lower andlower; then suddenly turning his long neck round to the side of hisbody, the animal rolled over, and all that remained of poor"Lamentations" was a meagre meal for the jackals and vultures. 

Hour after hour the men waited, huddled together behind thehastily-formed breastwork of the zareba. "Swabs" occasionally peeredthrough a loophole in the boxes to get a snap-shot at any figure thatmight be seen creeping about among the distant bushes. Jack, worn outwith the night march, stretched himself upon the sand, and, in spite ofthe constant zip of bullets and discharge of rifles, sank into a deepslumber. 

At length he was awakened by a general movement among his comrades:orders had been issued for a portion of the column to fight its way tothe Nile, and a square was being formed for the purpose a little to theleft of the zareba. In silence, and with anxious expressions on theirfaces, the men fell into their places, lying down to escape the leadenhail. The force seemed a ridiculously small one to oppose to theswarming masses of the enemy, yet on its success depended the safety ofthe whole column. 

The bugle sounded, and the men sprang to their feet, to be exposedimmediately to a heavy fire. Slowly and doggedly they moved forward, now halting to close up gaps, and now changing direction to gain moreopen ground. The vicious bang of rifles, fired at comparatively closerange, told of innumerable sharpshooters lurking around in the grassand shrubs. A bullet suddenly tore the metal ornament from the top ofJack's helmet, and striking the sword-bayonet of a man behind, knockedhis rifle nearly out of his hands. 

"A miss is as good as a mile!" remarked Sergeant Sparks; but as hespoke Joe Crouch was suddenly flung to the ground as though felled bythe stroke of a hammer. 

Jack involuntarily uttered a cry of dismay, and the sergeant droppeddown on one knee to assist the fallen man. To every one'sastonishment, however, the latter rose to his feet unaided, lookingrather dazed and gasping for breath, and picking up his rifle staggeredback into the ranks. A spent shot had struck him on the bandoleer, demolishing one of the cartridges, but fortunately failing to penetratethe leather belt. 

Now and again the square halted to send a volley wherever the enemyseemed to be gathered in any numbers, then continuing the advance inthe same cool, deliberate manner. 

Jack was marching in the left side, close to one of the rear corners, and, as fate would have it, the left half of the rear face was formedof the ----sex, and from the first he had been close to Valentine. They were within a dozen yards of each other, and every few momentsJack turned his head to assure himself that his cousin was unhurt. 

For more than an hour the little square had been doggedly pursuing itsforward movement, and now the enemy were seen in black masses on thelow hills to the left front. 

"They're coming, that's my belief!" said Joe Crouch, turning to addresshis chum. He got no reply; for, at that instant, as the other happenedto look round, he saw his cousin stagger and sink down upon the sand. In an instant Jack had sprung to his assistance; but this time it wasno false alarm. The bullet had done too well its cruel work. For amoment Valentine seemed to recognize him, and looking up, with his lefthand still clutching at his breast, made a ghastly attempt to smile. Then, with a groan, he fell over on his side, and fainted. 

A stretcher was brought, and Jack was ordered sharply to get back tothe ranks. As he took his place the square halted, and an excitedmurmur rose on all sides:--

"Here they come!--Thank God! they're going to charge!"

CHAPTER XX. 

THE RIVER'S BRINK. 

"Then he could see that the bright colours were faded from his uniform;but whether they had been washed off during his journey, or from theeffects of his sorrow, no one could say. "--_The Brave Tin Soldier_. 

Darkness had fallen, and a thick mist rising from the river made thestill, night air damp and penetrating; but the weary men, stretched outupon the sand, slept soundly in spite of the cold, and of the scantyprotection from it afforded by their clothing. The dark figures of thesentries surrounding the bivouac, moving slowly to and fro, or pausingto rest on their arms, seemed the only signs of wakefulness, exceptwhere the occasional gleam of a lantern shone out as the surgeons wenttheir rounds among the wounded. 

Jack, however, was not asleep. He seemed instead to be just waking upfrom a troubled dream, in which all that had happened since he had seenValentine placed upon the stretcher had passed before his mind in aconfused jumble of sights and sounds, leaving only a vague recollectionof what had really taken place:--The oncoming mass of Arabs; the crashof the volleys, changing into the continuous roar of independentfiring; the pungent reek of the powder as the rolling clouds of smokeenveloped the square; and the sight of the enemy falling in scores, wavering, slackening the pace of their advance, and finally retreatingover the distant hills, not one having reached the line of bayonets. Then, in the growing dusk, as the square advanced, the sight of thesilver stream showing every now and again amidst the green, cultivatedstrip of land upon its banks; the wild joy of men suffering thetortures of a burning thirst, which swelled their tongues and blackenedtheir lips; and the pitiful sight of the wounded being held up thatthey might catch a glimpse of the distant river; the wait on the brinkof the broad stretch of cool, priceless water, as each face of thesquare moved up in turn to take its fill; and then, no sucking thedregs of a warm water-bottle, but a long, cold, satisfying drink. 

[Illustration: "The oncoming mass of Arabs. "]

All this, though so recently enacted, seemed to have left but a faintimpression of its reality on Jack's mind; his one absorbing thoughtbeing that Valentine was hit, badly wounded, perhaps dying, or evendead. 

A man approached, and in the darkness stumbled over one of theslumberers. 

"Now, then, where are you coming to?"

"Dunno--wish I did. D'you men belong to the Blankshire? Where's yourofficer?"

"Can't say. Wait a minute; that's he lying by that bit ofbush--Captain Hamling. "

Our hero raised himself into a sitting posture. He had recognized thenew-comer as a hospital orderly, and in the surrounding stillness heardhim deliver his message:--

"Surgeon Gaylard sends his compliments, and would you allow one of yourmen named Fenleigh to come and see an officer who's badly wounded?He's some relative I think, sir. "

"Very good, " answered the captain drowsily; "you can find him yourself. "

The orderly had no difficulty in doing that, for in a moment Jack wasat his side. 

"Is he dying?"

"Dunno; he's badly hurt--shot through the lungs, and he's asked for youseveral times. "

It was a cruel night for the wounded, with nothing to shelter them fromthe bitter cold. Valentine lay upon the ground, with his head proppedup against a saddle. The surgeon was stooping over him as the two menapproached, and the light of his lamp tell on the pale, pinchedfeatures of the sufferer. Within the last three days Jack had seenscores of men hurried into eternity, and his senses had become hardenedby constant association with bloodshed and violent death, yet the sightof those unmistakable lines on that one familiar face turned his heartto stone. 

"You're some relative, I believe. He seemed very anxious to see you, so I sent the orderly. What?-- Yes, you may stay with him if youlike; but keep quiet, and don't let him talk more than you can help. "

"Is--is he dying, sir?"

"He may live till morning, but I doubt if he will. "

Jack went down on his knees. There was no "sir" this time--sword, andsash, and shoulder-strap were all forgotten. 

"Val!" The great, grey eyes, already heavy with the sleep of death, opened wide. 

"Jack! my dear Jack!"

"Yes; I've come to look after you. Are you in much pain?"

"No--only when I cough--and--it's dreadfully cold. "

The listener stifled down a groan. Ah, dear thoughts of long ago!Such things had never happened on the mimic battlefields at Brenlands. This, then, was the reality. 

"Jack, I want you to promise me something--your word of honour to adying man. "

A fit of coughing, ending in a groan of agony, interrupted the request. 

"Don't talk too much, " answered the other in a broken voice. "What isit you want? I'll do anything for you, God knows!"

"I want you to promise that you'll take this ring to Queen Mab--andgive it to her with your own hands. Say that I remembered heralways--and carried my love for her with me down into the grave. Promise me that you will give it her--_yourself_!"

Valentine ceased speaking, exhausted with the effort. 

"I will, I will!" returned the other, taking the ring. "But don't talkabout dying, Val; you'll pull through right enough. "

The sufferer answered with a feeble shake of his head, and anotherterrible fit of coughing left him faint and gasping for breath. 

"Stay with me, " he whispered. 

Jack propped him up to ease his breathing, and wiped the blood from hispallid lips. For a long, long time he sat silently holding the hand ofhis dying friend; then, fight against it as he would, exhausted naturebegan to assert herself in an overpowering desire to sleep. Numbedwith cold, and wellnigh heart-broken, wretched in body and mind, jealous of the moments as they flew past and of the lesseningopportunity of proving his love by any trifling service it might be inhis power to render--in spite of all this, an irresistible drowsinesscrept over him, and his head fell forward on his knees. 

The feeble voice was speaking again. 

"What did you say, Val? God forgive me, I cannot keep awake. "

Bending close down to catch the words, he could distinguish, even inthe darkness, some faint traces of the old familiar smile. 

"You used to say--that I had all the luck--but, you remember--atBrenlands--it was the lead captain that got killed. "

Jack murmured some reply, he was too worn out and miserable to weep. Once more that terrible struggle to keep his heavy eyes from closing; adozen times he straightened his back, and groaned in bitterness ofspirit at the thought that he could wish to sleep at such a time asthis; then once again his head sank under the heavy weight of fatigueand want of rest, and everything became a blank. 

 * * * * *

Awakening with a start, Jack scrambled to his feet. How long he hadslept he could not tell, nor did he realize where he was till the lightof a lantern flashing in his eyes brought him to his senses. 

"How is--" the question died on his lips. 

The surgeon took one keen glance, held the lamp closer, and then raisedit again. 

"Is he going, sir?"

"Going? he's gone!"

The words were followed by an awful silence; then, for an instant, theyellow gleam of the lamp tell upon the soldier's face. 

"Come, come, my lad!" said the medical officer kindly, "we did what wecould for him, but it was hopeless from the first. Be thankful thatyou've got a whole skin yourself. You'd better rejoin your company. "

The sky was paling with the first indications of the coming dawn. Themen were standing to their arms, and Jack hurried away to take hisplace in the ranks, hiding his grief as best he could from the eyes ofhis comrades. Then as he turned to look once more towards the spotwhence he had come, he saw, away across the river, the flush of rosylight brighten in the east, and all unbidden there came back to hismemory the words of Queen Mab's hymn. The sun rose with a red glare, scattering the mist and sending a glow of warmth across the desert; andonce more the old, sweet melody was sounding in his heart, while allaround seemed telling of hopes fulfilled and sorrows vanquished when

 "Morning's joy shall end the night of weeping. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

"WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME AGAIN!"

"It touched the tin soldier so much to see her that he almost wept tintears, but he kept them back. He looked at her, and they both remainedsilent. "--_The Brave Tin Soldier_. 

It was a hot, still afternoon in August. The birds were silent, hardlya leaf stirred, and everything seemed to have dozed off to sleep in thequiet sunshine. Old Ned Brown, the cobbler, and general "handy-man" ofthe village, who, in days gone by, had often bound bats and done otherodd jobs for "Miss Fenleigh's young nevies, " laid down his awl, andgazed out of the window of his dingy little shop. 

A soldier was walking slowly down the road. His boots were coveredwith dust, and on the breast of his red coat glittered the Egyptianmedal and the Khedive's Cross. 

"That must be Widow Crouch's son, " said Ned to himself. "I heard hewas back from the war. Maybe he'll know summat about the younggen'leman who used to come and stay up at the house yonder, and who, they say, was killed. Ah, yes! I remember him well--a nice, pleasant-spoken young chap! Dear me, dear me! sad work, sad work!"With a shake of his head, the old man once more picked up the shoe hewas mending, still muttering to himself, "Yes, I remember him--sadwork, sad work!"

The soldier strode on. His thoughts also were busy with memories ofthe past. In one sense he was not alone; for before him, in fancy, walked a boy--a rather surly, uncared-for looking young dog, with handsin his pockets, coat thrown open, and Cricket cap perched on the backof his head, as though in open defiance of the rain that was falling. The road had been damp and dismal then; to-day it was dry and dusty;but the heart of the man who trod it was no lighter than it had beenthat evening ten years ago. 

The old cobbler had been mistaken. It was not Joe Crouch, but JackFenleigh, who had just passed the window of the little shop. He wasthinking of the first time he had come to Brenlands at the commencementof the summer holidays, after having been kept back on the breaking-upday as a punishment for sending a pillow through the glass ventilatorof the Long Dormitory. 

"I didn't want to face her then, " he said to himself, switching thedust off his trousers with his cane. "And yet, how kind she was!Never mind! she won't know me now. Valentine promised he wouldn'twrite, and he never broke his word. "

Jack had walked from Melchester. More than once in the course of thejourney he had hesitated, and thought of turning back; but thesacredness of the promise made to a dying man had compelled him to goforward. 

He turned the corner, and slackened his pace as he saw before him theold house nestling among the trees. There was no board with TO LETprinted on it, such as usually, in story-books, greets the eye of thereturning wanderer. The place was just the same as it always had been;and the very fact of its being unchanged appealed to his feelings in amanner which it would be impossible to describe. The white front gate, whose hinges had been so often tried by its being transformed into asort of merry-go-round; the clumps of laurel bushes which had affordedsuch good hiding-places in games of "I spy;" even the long-sufferinglittle brass weathercock above the stable roof, which had served as amark for catapult shooting, --these, and a hundred other objects onwhich his eyes rested, recalled memories which softened his heart, andbrought back more vividly than ever the recollection of that faithfulfriend, whose last request he was about to fulfil. 

"I must do it, " he muttered, feeling in his pocket for the ring; "Ipromised him I would. "

He pushed open the gate, and walked almost on tiptoe down the path, casting anxious glances at the windows. To his great relief it was notJane who opened the door, but a new servant. 

"Is Miss Fenleigh in?" he stammered. "Will you tell her a--a privatesoldier has brought her something from an officer who died in Egypt?"

The girl showed him into the old, quiet parlour (as if he could nothave found the way thither himself), and there left him. It was verystill. Nothing broke the silence but the sleepy tick of the clock, andthe sound of some one (Jakes, perhaps) raking gravel on the gardenpath. Everything was unaltered. There was the little bust of Minervathat Barbara had once adorned with a paper bonnet; the fretsaw bookcasethat the two boys had made at school; and the quaint littleglass-fronted cupboard, let into the panelling, from which the watchhad been stolen. In the years that had passed, only one thing in theroom had changed, and that was the tall figure in uniform standing onthe hearthrug. 

He turned to look at himself in the glass. The dark moustache, bronzedskin, red tunic with its white collar and badges of the "royal tiger;"all these things had never been reflected there before, and for thetwentieth time during the last half-hour he sought to reassure himselfwith the thought that his disguise was complete. "She'll neverrecognize me!" he muttered. "It's all right. " Then the door opened, and for an instant his heart seemed to stop beating. 

The same easy dignity and graciousness of manner, the same sweetwomanly face, and the same depths of love and ready sympathy in herclear, calm eyes. She was dressed in mourning, and at her throat wasthe brooch containing the locks of the children's hair. Jack noticedit at once, and saw, too, that the little silver locket still had itsplace among the gold trinkets on her watch chain; and the sight of itvery nearly brought him down upon his knees at her feet. 

She seemed smaller than ever, and now, standing in front of him, herupturned face was about on a level with the medals on his breast. 

What was it made his chest heave and his lips tremble as he encounteredher gaze? However foolish and headstrong he might have been in thepast, he knew he had only to declare himself and it would all beforgotten and forgiven. "You may doubt us, " Valentine had said, "butwe have never lost faith in you. " Yes, that was it; she loved her uglyduckling, believing even now that, in spite of outward appearances, itwould one day turn into a swan. But the years had slipped away, andthe change had never taken place. She might hope that it had, and itwas best that she should never know the truth. 

With a set face he began to speak. 

"I've lately returned from Egypt, and saw there your nephew, LieutenantFenleigh, of the ----sex Regiment. "

He tried to say "ma'am, " but even at that moment it seemed too great amockery, and the word choked him. 

"I was with him when he died on the banks of the Nile. He asked me tobring you this, and to give it to you with my own hands. "

She took the ring, but without moving her eyes from the speaker's face. 

"He asked me to tell you that he remembered you always. "

The voice grew husky, and the lady drew a little closer, perhaps tohear more plainly what was said. 

"And to say that he carried his--his love for you with him down intothe grave. "

With a great effort Jack finished the message. The words had broughtback a flood of vivid recollections of that dreadful night, and hiseyes were filled with blinding tears. He turned to brush them away, and as he did so he felt Queen Mab's arms meet round his neck. 

"You dear old boy! don't you think I know you? Don't you think I knewyou as soon as you came inside the gate?"

He made some attempt to reply, uttered a broken word or two, and thenturned away his head; but she, standing on tiptoe, drew it down lowerand lower, until at length it rested on her shoulder. 

And so the ugly duckling ended his wanderings. 

 * * * * *

No autumn frosts or winter snows could ever have fallen on that garden, for here were the same flowers, and fruit, and ferns as had bloomed andripened that last August holiday seven years ago. So, at least, thought Jack, as he and his aunt walked together along the paths. 

"Did he write from Egypt to tell you about me?"

"No; but I've always been expecting you. I knew you'd come back sometime. "

"I didn't think you'd recognize me. "

"Valentine knew I should. Don't you see it was you he sent home to me, and not the ring?"

Jack was silent. Everything that his eye rested upon reminded him ofthat faithful, boyish friendship, and his lip quivered. 

Queen Mab noticed it, and changed the subject. 

"I wonder what Jakes will think to see me walking about arm-in-arm witha soldier, " she said gaily. "Never mind, I must make the most of itwhile it lasts. I'm afraid I shan't have many more opportunities of'keeping company' with a red-coat. "

"How d'you mean?" he asked, with an uneasy, downward glance at hisuniform. "My time isn't up for nearly three years; and I know I oughtnot to come here in this rig-out. "

"Don't talk nonsense, " she answered. "You're a pretty soldier to beashamed of your cloth. Isn't it possible for a man to do his dutyunless he has a pair of epaulettes on his shoulders? Can't he do itunder any kind of coat? Come now, " she added, shaking his arm, andlooking up into his face with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "don'tyou think, for the matter of that, a man could be a hero in his shirtsleeves?"

"Yes, " answered Jack, laughing. 

"Oh, you do! I'm glad you've come to that conclusion at last. "

"Why?"

"Why? because I think you'll soon have to give us a practicalillustration of how a man can distinguish himself by being capable andtrustworthy, even in plain clothes. That opens up a subject that Ihave a lot to tell you about. Have you heard that your father and yourUncle John are friends again?"

"Yes; Val said something about it. "

"You haven't heard, " she continued quietly, "that before the secondbattle Valentine made a will, and gave it to a friend to be sent homein case he was killed. It was more in the form of a long letter, roughly written on the leaves of a pocket-book. A great deal of it wasabout you. He did not break his promise to you, and say actually thathe had seen you, and where you were; but he assured us that he knew youhad not gone to the bad, but were living an honest life, and thatbefore long we should see you again. Then he begged his father, as alast request, to do something for you, and to treat you as his own son. Your uncle was over the other day. He is very anxious to carry outValentine's wishes, and would like to take you into his own business, with a view to an ultimate partnership. "

"It's awfully good of him, " murmured Jack huskily. 

"Well, that's what he intends to do. But come, it's time I put in thetea. "

"It's time I went, " he murmured. 

"Time you went? What nonsense! You say you've got a week's furlough, and that you left your things at the Black Horse. Well, I'm just goingto send Jakes to fetch them. Why, I quite forgot to tell you thatlittle Bar was staying here. "

The person who had just stepped out from the open French window on tothe lawn was certainly no longer little, but a tall, graceful younglady. There was, however, still some trace in her roguish mouth anddancing eyes of the smaller Barbara who had wrought such havoc amongher enemies by firing six peas at a time instead of two. 

Jack had never before been frightened at Bar, of all people in theworld; but now, if Queen Mab had not still retained her hold of hisarm, he might very likely have bolted into the shrubbery. 

The girl advanced slowly across the lawn, casting inquiring glances, first at the red coat and medals, and then at the bronzed face of thestranger. Then suddenly her mouth opened, and she quickened her paceto a run. 

"Oh, you rascal!" she cried. "It's Jack!"

That was all the speech-making Barbara thought necessary in welcomingthe returning prodigal; and not caring a straw for bars and ribbons, pipeclay, and "royal tigers, " she embraced him in the same heartymanner as she had always done when they met at the commencement ofbygone summer holidays. 

The dainty tea-table was a great change after the barrack-room. Thepretty china cups seemed wonderfully small and fragile compared withthe familiar basin; and once Jack found himself absent-mindedlystuffing his serviette into his sleeve, under the impression that itwas his handkerchief. 

"Why, when was the last time you had tea here?" asked Barbara. "Itmust have been that summer when Raymond--" She stopped short, but thelast word instantly brought to Jack's mind the recollection of thatevening when Fosberton had charged him with being a thief. 

"By-the-bye, " he exclaimed, "I forgot to tell you--I've found thewatch. "

"Yes, I know, " answered Queen Mab quietly. "Valentine gave a fullaccount of it in his letter. "

Jack was just going to launch out into a long and forcible tirade onthe subject of the theft, but his cousin signed to him across the tableto let the matter drop. 

"Aunt has been in such a dreadful way about it, " she explainedafterwards. "Only she and ourselves know about it. She doesn't likeeven to have Raymond's name mentioned. He has turned out a thoroughscamp, and has given Uncle Fosberton no end of trouble. Fatherhappened to know the friends of that officer who was killed, and whenhis things were sent home the watch was returned; so it's back againnow in the same old place. Aunt has never told any one, not evenRaymond himself, as she doesn't want to bring fresh trouble on hisparents. "

Later on in the evening, as they sat together in the old, panelledparlour in the soft light of the shaded lamp, the talk turned naturallyand sweetly on Valentine--on all that he used to say and do; and Jacktold as best he could the story of the desert march, and of that lastsad parting on the river's brink. After he had finished, there was asilence; then Barbara picked up the piece of work she had laid down. 

"So you didn't find war quite such a jolly thing as you used to thinkit would be?" she said, looking across at him with a tearful smile. 

"No, " he answered thoughtfully. "I suppose things that you have longset your mind on seldom turn out exactly what you want and expect themto be. I'm glad I saw active service, and I'd go through it all againa hundred times for the sake of having been with Valentine when hedied; though it was little I could do for him, more than to saygood-bye. "

Queen Mab rose from her chair, and stooped over the speaker to wish himgood-night. 

"Never mind, " she said softly. "I'm glad to think of both my boys thattheir warfare is accomplished!"

CHAPTER XXII

CONCLUSION. 

"I never dreamed of such happiness as this while I was an uglyduckling!"--_The Ugly Duckling_. 

The old house at Brenlands still remains unaltered, except that theempty room upstairs, once the scene of so many terrible conflictsbetween miniature metal armies, has been turned into a nursery. Another generation of children is growing up now, and eagerly theylisten while Aunt Mabel tells the old story of the tin soldier who wentadventuring in a paper boat, and came back in the end to the place fromwhich he had started; or the history of the little lead captain, whostands keeping guard over the precious things in the treasure cupboard;and who once, after bearing the brunt of a long engagement, fell infront of his men, just as the fighting ended. 

When the nursery is in use, a long-forgotten little gateway makes itsappearance at the top of the stairs, and "Uncle Jack" pays toll throughthe bars to the chubby little Helen standing on the other side. 

Queen Mab tries to make out that she is growing older; but hercourtiers will not believe it, and go so far as to scoff at and hideher spectacle case, declaring that her wearing glasses is only apretence. 

But though Brenlands and its queen may seem the same as ever, many ofthose connected with it in our story have experienced changes, of whichsome mention should be made. 

Old Jakes has been obliged to give up the gardening, and Joe Crouch hasbeen installed in his stead. Joe has finished his time, both with thecolours and in the reserve; but he is the soldier still--smart, clean, and never needing to have an order repeated twice. He oftenunconsciously falls back into former habits, and comes marching up thepath with his spade at the "slope" or his hoe at the "trail, " whistlingsoftly the old quick-step, which once drew our hero to "go with therest, and follow the drum. "

For Jack he cherishes the fondest regard and deepest admiration, whichhe never hesitates to express in such words as these:--

"Aw, yes, sir! he's what I call the right sort, is Master Jack. Hedon't turn his back on an old cumred, as some would. I 'member the dayhe bought himself out. 'Well, good-bye, ' says I--'we've beensoldierin' together a good time, and in some queer places; but nowyou're goin' back to be a gen'leman again, and I suppose we shan't seeeach other never no more. ' 'I should be a precious poor gen'leman if Iever forgot you, Joe, ' says he; 'you stood by me when I first came tobarracks, and some day I hope I shall be able to do something for youin return. ' And so he did, for he kept writin' to me, and when my timewas up he got me this place. Look here, sir, the day he come to enlistthe corporal at the gate says to him, 'We ought to make a general ofsuch a fine chap as you;' and you take my word for it, that's just whatthey would have made of him, if he'd only stopped long enough!"

Of Barbara something might be said, but that something is for thepresent supposed to be a secret. Jack, who, like the average boy, always seemed to have a knack of finding out things that were intendedto be kept private, knows more than he ought about this matter; andbringing out a handful of coppers at the table, and representing themto be the whole of his savings, declares that he will be "dead broke"should any unforeseen circumstance necessitate his purchasing a weddingpresent. Whereupon his cousin blushes, and puts her fingers in herears, and says, "I can't hear, " but listens all the time. 

Of Raymond Fosberton, perhaps the less said the better. His name hascome very near being mentioned in a court of law, for forging hisfather's signature to a cheque, and is therefore seldom mentioned amonghis friends. One thing, however, might be told concerning his lastvisit to Brenlands. 

A year after that eventful Christmas in Egypt, Jack was sitting beforethe fire in Queen Mab's parlour, when Raymond was announced, and showninto the room. He was dressed, as usual, in good though rather flashyclothes; but in spite of this, he looked cheap and common, and hisgeneral appearance gave one the impression of dirt wrapped up in silverpaper. The moment he saw Jack a spiteful look came into his face, andhe took no pains to conceal the old dislike and hatred with which hestill regarded the latter. 

"Hallo! so you've turned up again. I thought you'd soon get sick ofsoldiering; too much hard work to suit your book, I expect. "

"No; I left it because I had a chance of something better. AuntMabel's out; will you wait till she comes back?"

Jack had seen more of the world since the day when he had knocked thevisitor into the laurel bush; and could now realize that Queen Mab hadspoken the truth when she said that punching heads was not always themost satisfactory kind of revenge. He had a score to settle withRaymond; but he regarded the latter now as a pitiful fellow not worthquarrelling with, and he hesitated, half-minded to let the matter dropwithout mentioning what was on his mind. 

Fosberton mistook the meaning of the other's averted glance. Hethought himself master of the situation, and, like a fool, having, figuratively speaking, been given enough rope, he promptly proceeded tohang himself. 

"You've been lying low for a precious long time, " he continued, maliciously. "Why didn't you come here before? You've been askedoften enough!"

"I had my own reasons for stopping away. "

"You didn't like to come back after the bother about that watch, Isuppose?"

Jack let him run on. "That was partly it, " he answered. 

"Well, then, " continued Raymond, with a sneer, "you made a greatmistake bolting like that; you gave yourself away completely. "

"I don't understand you, " returned the other, with a sharper ring inhis voice. "D'you mean to charge me again with having stolen thewatch?"

"Pooh! I daresay you know what's become of it. "

"Yes, " answered Jack calmly, at the same time fixing the other with asteady stare, "I _do_ know what's become of it: at the present momentit's in its case in that cupboard there. Shall I show it you?"

The answer was so strange and unexpected that Raymond started; themeaning look in his cousin's eyes warned him that he was treading ondangerous ground. He had, however, gone too far to let the matter dropsuddenly without any attempt to brazen out the situation. 

"Humph!" he said; "I suppose you put it back yourself. "

"I was the means of its being brought back. I found it in the pocketof an officer named Lawson who was killed in Egypt. "

The withering tone and scornful curl of the lip was on the other sidenow. The visitor was fully aware of it, and winced as though he hadbeen cut with a whip. 

"Mr. Lawson had been stationed with the regiment at Melchester, and Ihappen to know how the watch came into his possession. "

Raymond saw that he had rushed into a pitfall of his own making--he wasentirely in his opponent's hands--and like the mean cur he was, immediately began to sue for forgiveness and terms of peace. 

"Hush!" he cried, glancing at the door. "Don't say any more, theservants might hear. I'm very sorry I did it, but you know how it was;I was pushed for money, I say, you haven't told any one, have you?"

"No. Uncle John and Aunt Mabel know; though I don't think you needfear that they will let it go any further. "

"That's all right, " continued Raymond, in a snivelling tone. "I wasbadgered for money, and I really couldn't help it. I've been sorryenough since. I don't think I'll wait any longer, I'm in rather ahurry. Well, good-bye. And look here, old chap--I'm afraid I treatedyou rather badly; but well let bygones be bygones. I don't want it toget to the governor's ears, so you won't mention it, will you?"

Jack cast a contemptuous glance at the proffered hand, and put his ownbehind his back. 

"No; I won't tell any one, " he answered shortly, then turned on hisheel, and that was his revenge. 

And now the only person remaining of whom a last word might be said atparting, is our hero himself. 

It was a balmy evening in that eternal summer that seemed to reign atBrenlands; and he and Queen Mab were walking slowly round the greenlawn, while the swallows went wheeling to and fro overhead. 

Fastened to her bunch of trinkets next the locket was a silvercoin--the enlisting shilling, which Jack had never parted with since hefirst received it on that memorable morning at the Melchester barracks. 

"Yes, " said Aunt Mabel, "it was Queen Victoria's once, but now it'smine!"

"Well, I think I earned it, " he answered, laughing. 

"Perhaps you'd like to go and earn another?"

"No; I'm too happy where I am. Uncle John is awfully good to me. Hecouldn't be kinder if I were his own son. "

"So you're content at last to stay at home and take what's given you?"

"Yes; I think I've settled down at last. Dear old Val said that thelane would turn some time, and so it has. My luck's changed. "

"I think I'd put it down to something better than that, " said QueenMab, smiling. "Perhaps it is not all luck, but a little of yourselfthat has changed. "

Jack laughed again, but made no attempt to deny the truth of thesuggestion. Possibly he felt that what she said was right, and thatnot only in his surroundings, but also in his own heart, had come atlast the long lane's turning. 

THE END. 

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