It was Paul, hastening to the school with Hibbert. In another minute he had pa.s.sed by where Crick was hiding. Then Crick heard voices. It was Paul speaking to Waterman at the school door. The listener caught the word "accident." The next moment Waterman darted past him. The coast being again clear, Crick promptly followed in Waterman's footsteps. He was not long in reaching the hedge behind which Mellor was awaiting him.

"Got it?" was the eager question.

"Yes. Look!"

Mellor could have shouted with joy. Was it possible that the flag was actually in their possession?

"Bravo, Crick! It's the biggest thing we've ever scored over the Gargoyles. My! won't they be savage! There'll be no holding them in when they find their flag's gone. But what's up? There's been an accident of some sort."

"I know there has. I nearly ran into a fellow who was carrying a kid in his arms. Luckily I pulled up in time. Who were they--do you know?"

"One was Percival, the fellow who skedaddled from Wyndham at the sand-pit. I don't know the kid he had in his arms, he must be a fresher."

"A fresher! He wasn't much of a fresher to look at. He looked like a drowned rat."

The two returned to St. Bede's by the longest but less frequented way, and at length reached it without further adventure. They determined to hide the flag for the time being, and to confide the secret to their own Form only--the Fourth.

The Fourth was very jubilant, as may be imagined, at the feat performed by Crick and Mellor, who were at once looked upon as heroes. The flag, meanwhile, had been hidden in a barn, standing in a field near St.

Bede's, belonging to a father of one of the day boys in Mellor's Form.

Frequently they met in the barn, and withdrawing the flag from its hiding-place, stuck it in the centre of the floor, and danced round it like a band of wild Indians celebrating a victory.

Things were at this pa.s.s when Paul came to the decision to visit St.

Bede's, to see if he could obtain information as to the missing flag.

Plunger and Moncrief minor happened to be out on an expedition of their own that afternoon on Cranstead Common. Plunger caught sight of Paul as he turned the bend of the road leading to St. Bede's.

"That was Percival, I'm pretty well sure of it," he cried. "Didn't you see him?"

"No. By himself?"

"Isn't he always by himself? But let's make certain."

The two boys ran to the roadway and glanced along it. There, sure enough, was Percival striding quickly along in the direction of St.

Bede's.

"Where's he making for? For the seminary of the crawlers, seems to me,"

said Plunger. "Queer sort of chap! What can he want up there?"

Harry did not answer. He recalled the afternoon when he had seen Paul speaking to Wyndham. He had tried to forget that incident, and along with it the incident that had happened at the sand-pit. He had tried to think only of Paul's heroism on the river when he had saved the lives of three of his school-fellows. He had cheered him as heartily as the rest on that day when Baldry had called for "Three cheers for Percival!"

After, as we have seen, he had tried to heal the differences between his cousin and Percival; but now all the old suspicions came back with a rush.

"Yes; what can he want up there? Supposing we find out. There can be no harm in watching him."

Plunger, as we know, had the b.u.mp of curiosity largely developed, and his curiosity to know what Paul was doing at St. Bede's caused him to forget, perhaps, that in playing the spy he was not altogether making the best return in his power to one who had risked so much to save him from a watery grave.

So he at once fell in with Harry's suggestion, and the two, keeping in the background, followed in the footsteps of Paul.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

FRIEND AND FOE

Paul, unconscious that he was being followed, pressed forward to St.

Bede's. As he drew near a boy came from the gates. Paul recognized him.

It was Murrell, one of the seniors at St. Bede's, who had taken part with the others in hustling and jibing at him the last time he came in that direction.

Murrell caught sight of him almost simultaneously, so that it would have been impossible for Paul to avoid him had he wished.

"Hallo! Turned up again, have you?" cried the youth, coming to a dead stop in front of Paul. "I thought you'd had enough of these parts the last time you were here. But p'raps you enjoy ragging. There's no accounting for tastes--specially the taste of a Gargoyle. Look here, if I were you I would cut!"

"I don't think you would. If you were me you would stand your ground, and that's what I mean doing," smiled Paul.

"You're jolly cheeky, Gargoyle! Now, look here, take the advice of one who wants to do you a good turn--cut! There are a lot of the Bedes hanging about, and if they happen to get hold of you, there won't be much left of you, I can tell you! Are you insured?"

"No."

"My stars! I wouldn't like to be standing in your shoes--I really wouldn't! Tired of life--eh? That's why you're poking your head into the lion's den--eh?"

"Wrong again--quite wrong. I've come to see one of your fellows who's been very kind to me--Wyndham."

"Oh, Wyndham! The one you ran away from at the sand-pits?"

Paul winced under the jibe. He had not yet got over that weakness.

Murrell was regarding him curiously. No answer coming from his victim, he spoke again:

"You want me to fetch Wyndham?"

"If you would be so kind."

"Well, if you don't take the cake--likewise the bun, and the biscuit! A Gargoyle has the superb cheek to ask a Bede to be his errand-boy! Stands Scotland where it did? Is the world going round, or is it standing still? Am I standing on my head or my heels? Now, then--your last chance! If you don't want to go back in pieces, take it!

Going--going--gone!"

"I don't intend going till I've seen Wyndham," said Paul firmly. "If you won't do me the favour I ask, I must keep on till I find some one a little more courteous."

He was about to pa.s.s on, when Murrell stopped him with a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"All right! You needn't get into a wax! You're not such a bad sort of fellow, after all, for a Gargoyle! Wait here! Shan't be long!"

His tone had suddenly changed, and before Paul could say anything further he was gone. Paul was so astonished that he could scarcely believe the evidence of his eyes and ears. In an instant Murrell's att.i.tude had changed from a threatening to a friendly att.i.tude. Was it meant to mislead him? Had he no intention of going for Wyndham? Did he mean instead to acquaint some of the boys who had previously set on him of his arrival, so that they might carry out the purpose which they had been forced to relinquish? This view seemed certainly the more probable of the two, and therefore Paul was very agreeably surprised when, a couple of minutes later, he saw the well-known figure of Wyndham coming from the college gates towards him. His handsome face lit up with a smile as he caught sight of Paul.

"Percival," he said, as his hand went out to him, "I'm so glad to see you! So was Murrell."

"So was Murrell!" repeated Paul. "You wouldn't say so if you knew the reception he gave me just now. You're joking?"

"No; I was never more serious in my life. As a Bede, he was bound not to be over-polite to a Garsider; but he thinks a good deal more of you than he did, and so do most of us--all through Murrell. Why? Well, he happened to catch a glimpse of what happened on the river a week or so ago--came up at the tag-end, but heard all that had happened from some of the other fellows on the bank. Murrell and many more here are beginning to think that you are too good for a Gargoyle, though you didn't cut such a grand figure at the sand-pits. They're beginning to believe what they wouldn't swallow at the time--that you're one of the bravest fellows at Garside. To think that I'm the only fellow who knows how brave! Why don't you let me speak and set you right?"