"You go up the tree and do the pulling, and let me do the whistling."

"Why, it'll be ever so much more fun to pull the string. I want to give you the best position, you see."

"I know you do, Freddy. I know your good nature; but I'm not going to let you make the sacrifice. I'll do the whistling."

"Very well, if you wish it. I don't mind which I do," said Plunger, in a lofty tone. "Only don't make a mess of it."

"Oh, my part's so simple, I can't make a mess of it. Mind you don't make a mess of yours, Freddy."

Now Harry decided, immediately on quitting Plunger, that he would acquaint Baldry with the joke that Plunger intended to play upon him. It was he who had drawn that cartoon in the Forum that had stirred Plunger to wrath, and Harry came to the conclusion that it was not right that Baldry should suffer for him. Besides, as Plunger had so often scored over him, he thought it only right that he should begin to equalize matters. So he hunted up Baldry, and informed him of Plunger's kind intentions towards him.

"Oh," said Baldry, when Harry had ended, "that's Plunger's little game, is it? I thought he was getting a bit cross, but I didn't think he meant showing his teeth. The beauty of it is, I hadn't anything to do with that portrait of him on the Forum window. I know no more about it than you do."

"Than I do!" echoed Harry, smiling to himself.

"He made a better guess when he told you that I inspired those paragraphs in the _Record_. I just gave a hint to Jowett. Jowett pa.s.sed it on to Jessel, and Jessel put in the smart bits that touched Plunger on the raw. Plunger's all right when he's going for other people, but he doesn't like it when others go for him."

Harry quite sympathized with this view of things.

"There's my name," went on Baldry. "I can't help my name. I didn't christen myself, and was never asked whether I liked it or not. That's the worst of names. You never are consulted. It's all done for you by your ancestors, and your G.o.dfathers and G.o.dmothers--and people of that sort. I don't know why it should be, but it is; and there you are--fixed up for life with a name, unless you happen to be a girl, and get married, then you drop it for another, but it may be ever so much worse than the one you've got. Now, what I say is this--Baldry isn't such a bad name, as names go, is it, Moncrief?"

"Better than Plunger, any day," remarked Harry, in his most sympathetic manner.

"Better than Plunger, as you say, Moncrief. Where Plunger's ancestors picked up a name like that, goodness only knows. It must have come out of the Ark. And yet he's always calling me 'Baldhead,' 'Bladder of Lard,' 'The Lost Hair,' and telling me to go in for hair-restorer, Tatcho, and making feeble jokes of that sort. But I think I went one better when I got that paragraph in the _Record_, eh?"

"Yes, Baldry you scored there; but what we've got to think about is, how to prevent Plunger from scoring back. Some one will have to go to the Forum in answer to his invitation, when it comes. It won't matter who, because Plunger won't be able to see; he'll be up in the tree, waiting for my whistle. So who's to be the victim?"

Baldry became thoughtful. He ran through the list of his acquaintances whom he thought most deserving of the honour that Plunger proposed to bestow on him. He thought of one or two in his form who might have been available for his purpose, but it was just possible that they were in the confidence of Plunger. So he turned from his own form to the Fifth--"the bounders of the Fifth."

"I've got it," he suddenly exclaimed. "Percival!"

"Percival!" echoed Harry.

"Yes; that's the ticket; the very thing--Percival. If it comes off all right, it'll be a big hit. We shall be covered with glory, and he'll be covered with feathers--ha, ha! It couldn't be better. Do you see how it fits in? A nice little present of feathers for the fellow who showed the white feather at the sand-pit. Isn't it splendid, Moncrief?"

Harry was silent. Percival had been far from his thoughts. He never imagined that Baldry would suggest Percival. For the moment his mind went back to that night when Paul came to Redmead. Once again he could hear the low, earnest tones of his father--"Many thanks for the great service you have done, Paul. You have not only done a great service for me and my brother, but for your country."

"Well, Moncrief; why don't you answer?" came the voice of Baldry. "It's the finest idea that has come to me for a long time. Feathers for the fellow who showed the white feather."

At the words, the image of his father faded from Harry's mind. He could no longer hear the echo of his words. He only saw his cousin's bleeding face as he rose vanquished from the sand-pit; and, side by side with that picture, he saw Percival walking and talking, and shaking hands with "the wretched Beetle--Wyndham," as he had seen him walking and talking and shaking hands with him that afternoon.

"A fine idea--splendid!" he cried. "Nothing could be better. Let Percival be the victim."

CHAPTER XXII

HATCHING A PLOT, AND WHAT CAME OF IT

"Nothing could be better. Let Percival be the victim!"

Scarcely were the words out of Harry's lips than Viner come up to Baldry with the notice he was expecting. It was a hectograph copy, announcing that a meeting of the more important members of the Third Form would be held in the Forum at half-past six prompt to consider a matter of pressing importance.

Baldry thanked Viner. Viner smirked and retreated.

"Viner's in the know, that's certain," said Baldry, when he was out of earshot. "Viner's a crawler."

Harry had no great reason to like Viner. It was he who had gone behind him on the day that he had entered Garside, so that Newall might push him over his back. From that incident the quarrel had arisen between Stanley and Newall, and other troubles had followed in its train.

"You're right there; but now what's to be done?"

"Oh, that's easy enough. We've only got to rub out 'Third Form' and put in 'Fifth,' and then send it on to Percival; and there you are."

With the aid of a knife and some hectograph ink this alteration was soon made. The next question was how to get it to Percival without arousing suspicion. As they were considering this point Baldry caught sight of Hibbert crossing the ground.

"There's our messenger," he exclaimed. Then he shouted, "Hibbert, Hibbert!"

Hibbert looked round. Baldry beckoned him, and he came to where they were standing.

"I want you to give this note to Percival. If he asks you where it came from, tell him he will see inside. Then come away. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Hibbert, looking suspiciously at the note.

"Well, run along. It won't bite you."

Hibbert went off reluctantly with the note. It seemed now as though he were as anxious as the rest to avoid Paul. At any rate, he kept out of his way, but he could not very well refuse Baldry's request.

He found Paul by himself, as usual, in the writing-room. He had commenced work in downright earnest on the prize essay.

"Hallo, Hibbert, is that you?" he asked, looking up as the boy entered.

"What have you got there?"

Hibbert handed him the notice without a word, but did not beat a retreat according to the instructions he had received.

"Another meeting of the Fifth," Paul said, as much to himself as to Hibbert, when he had glanced at the note. "I wonder they trouble to send to me. It is too great an honour!"

No suspicion as to the genuineness of the note crossed his mind. It was quite usual for Sedgefield, who acted as hon. sec. for the Fifth, to send out his notices with a messenger from the junior forms.

"What's too great an honour, may I ask?" said Hibbert timidly.

Paul explained to him the contents of the notice.

"It's to call me over the coals again, I expect. Shall I go or shan't I?" he asked himself. Then, turning smilingly to the boy: "What would you do if you were in my place, Hibbert?"

"Stay away," said the boy promptly.

"And improve my reputation for courage--eh? Why would you stay away?"