"What's the row--ear-ache?" demanded Trimble.

"He's blue because he's not had lines to-day," suggested Langrish.

"Perhaps his washerwoman has sent in her bill," said c.o.xhead.

"You'll get kicked out of here, if you look so jolly blue," said Warminster. "It's stale enough this term, without having a chap with a face like a boiled fish gaping at you."

"Look here," said I, resolved to be candid as far as I dare. "I'm in a jolly mess--"

"Never knew you out of it. What's up?" said Langrish.

"Really though, no larks," said I. "Tempest's down on me because I went out with Crofter, and Crofter's down on me because I cut him for Tempest. That's enough to give a chap blues, isn't it?"

"There seems to be a run on Sarah," said Trimble. "Anybody got a halfpenny?"

"What for?" I inquired, as the requisite coin was planked down on the table.

"Heads Tempest, tails Crofter," said Langrish.

It was heads, and I was solemnly ordered to adhere to Crofter.

"We'll square it with Tempest," said they. "He'll probably keep his shutters up for a day or two, but he'll soon get over it."

"But," said I, "I mean to stick to Tempest as well. The fact is, from what I hear,"--little I realised the fatal error I was making!--"he's in rather a bad way himself."

"How?"

"Well, don't tell; but he's owing a lot in the shops; and if he can't pay he'll get shown up."

There was a whistle of dismay at this. Sweeten's fate was still fresh in the memory of some of the f.a.ggery.

"We'll have to give him a leg-up," was the general verdict.

"Oh, don't let out I told you!" said I, beginning to get alarmed at the interest my revelation had evoked.

"Who's going to say a word about you? We can back up the c.o.c.k of our own house, I suppose, without asking your precious leave. You go and black Crofter's boots. We'll see old Tempest through."

This was not at all what I wanted. I had at least hoped to be recognised as Tempest's leading champion in this company. Whereas, here was I coolly shunted, my revelation coolly appropriated, and my services unceremoniously dispensed with. I did not like it at all.

"This dodge about stringing up Jarman's guy," said Trimble, "ought to help our man a bit. It'll show we're taking the matter up. By the way, Sarah's not heard the latest--we're going to blow him up as well as hang him."

And they proceeded to explain that the guy was to be filled chock-full of fireworks and gunpowder, and his tongue to be made of touch-paper.

Altogether, he was to be a most dangerous and explosive effigy; and I, as president of the Philosophical Conversation Club, was naturally selected to take charge of him.

I pleaded hard for a sub-committee to a.s.sist me, but they would not hear of it.

"It'll only be a day or two," said they, "to the Fifth of November.

We'll have his stuffing all in to-morrow--there's almost enough fireworks left over from the picnic to load him. Then you can stow him away quiet somewhere till the day. Couldn't you stick him under your bed?"

"Oh no, he might go off, you know," said I; "or some one might see him.

Besides, he'll be too stout to go under."

"Bother!--where can he go, then?"

"I vote we stick him in the lumber room under the gymnasium. n.o.body ever goes there, and you can get into it any time by the area outside,"

said c.o.xhead.

This was voted an excellent idea. At any rate, if he was discovered or did go off there, the gymnasium was far enough away from Sharpe's.

So, with much rejoicing, the guy was duly loaded with his explosive internals, and clad in an old derelict overcoat of some late senior. My famous hat adorned his hideous head, and my unappreciated tan boots lent distinction to his somewhat incoherent legs. A train of touch-paper connected with a Roman candle was cunningly devised to protrude in the form of a tongue from his mouth, while ginger-beer bottles filled with gunpowder served as hands. And the whole work of art was one dark evening conveyed by me tenderly and deposited among a wilderness of broken forms, empty hampers, and old bottles in the lumber room under the school gymnasium, "to be called for" in a few days time.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

GUNPOWDER TREASON.

One result of my boating excursion was that Crofter ceased to frequent his fellow-seniors' studies. There was no declaration of war, or, indeed, any formal breaking off of relations. But Crofter had sense enough of his own dignity to feel that he had been slighted by Tempest: and Tempest and his friends had no inclination to heal the trouble, or a.s.sume an att.i.tude of friendliness they did not feel.

As for me, I found it very hard to steer an even course between the competing parties. Crofter nodded and spoke to me just as usual, and was evidently amused by my panic lest these pacific overtures should be observed or misconstrued by Tempest. Tempest, on the other hand, did not refer again to the subject, but took a little more pains than before to look after me and help me in my work. And an evening or two later, much to my surprise, when I went as usual to "tidy up" in Pridgin's room while Tempest was there too, my lord and master said abruptly,--

"Let my things alone, kid. Tempest appreciates a mess in his place more than I do, so I've swopped you for Trimble."

"What?" said I, in tones of mingled amazement and pleasure. "Am I--"

"You're to go and fetch my blazer," said Tempest, "that I left on the parallel bars in the gymnasium this afternoon. Look alive, or I shall stick to Trimble."

I really began to think there must be something unusually desirable about me, that fellows should be so anxious to possess me. The Philosophers had with one accord sought me for president. Pridgin had wanted me. Crofter had wanted me. Even Redwood had wanted me. And now here was old Tempest putting in his claim! He should have me--I would not be so selfish as to deprive him of the coveted privilege.

In a somewhat "tilted" condition I went off on my errand, not even delaying to announce the great news to my fellow-Philosophers. It was a dark evening, and the gymnasium was some way off. But I knew the way by this time. I had daily walked past the area door and glanced down at the dangerous guy where it lay with its lolling tongue under the grating, to a.s.sure myself of its welfare. It was all right up till now, and in two days it would be off my hands.

The square was empty as I crossed it, and, to my satisfaction, I found the gymnasium door unlocked. I groped my way to the corner where the parallel bars stood, and there found the blazer, which I carried off in triumph.

As I emerged from the door and came down the steps, I became aware of two points of light in front of me, and a voice out of the darkness, which caused me to jump almost out of my skin,--

"Who is that?"

It was Mr Jarman's voice--and I could just discern his shadowy form accompanied by that of Mr Selkirk standing before me. The two masters were evidently taking an after-dinner turn with their cigars, and had heard my footsteps.

"Jones iv., sir; I came to fetch Tempest's blazer."

"Who gave you leave?"

"Tempest, sir."

"Take the blazer back where you found it, and tell Tempest if he leaves his things in the gymnasium he must fetch them at proper hours. This is the third time I have had to speak to you, Jones iv. You must attend an extra drill to-morrow, and learn fifty lines by heart. This constant irregularity must be stopped."

So saying, he took his companion's arm and strolled off.