ly well mistaken," and so saying he turned on his heel
and walked away.

"I say, Trevanock," said Carton, two days later, "that fellow Noaks has
found a friend at last: he's picked up with Mouler. They'll make a nice
pair, I should say. Mouler was nearly expelled last term for telling
lies to Ellesby about some cribs."

Noaks certainly seemed to have discovered a chum in the black sheep of
the Upper Fourth, and the Triple Alliance began to congratulate
themselves that he would trouble them no further. In a big school
like Ronleigh College there was plenty of room for everybody to go his
own way without fear of running his head into people whom he wished to
avoid. Our three friends, however, seemed fated to find in the person
of Noaks junior a perpetual stumbling-block and cause of disquietude and
annoyance. They had no sooner succeeded in setting him at a distance
when an incident occurred which brought them once more into violent
collision with the enemy.

The pavilion, which has already been mentioned as standing on the match
ground, was a handsome wooden structure, surrounded by some low palings,
in front of which was a small oblong patch of gravel. On the second
Saturday morning of the term Noaks and Mouler were lounging across this
open space, when Oaks, the prefect, emerged from the pavilion, carrying
in his hand a pot of paint he had been mixing for the goal-posts, which
were just being put up. On reaching the paling he suddenly ejaculated,
"Bother! I've forgotten the brush;" and resting the can on the top of
the little gate-post, hurried back up the short flight of steps, and
disappeared through the open door.

"I say, there's a good cock-shy," said Noaks, nodding his head in the
direction of the paint.

"Umph! shouldn't like to try," answered Mouler.

"Why not?"

"Because Oaks would jolly well punch both our heads."

"Well, here's a new kid coming; let's set him on to do it. You speak to
him; he knows me. His name's Mugford."

The two cronies both picked up a handful of stones, and began throwing
at the can, taking good care that their shots should fly wide of the
mark.

Mugford, who, as we have already seen, was not blessed with the sharpest
of wits, paused for a moment to watch the contest. The paint had been
mixed in an old fruit-tin, and at first sight it certainly seemed to
have been put on the post for the sole purpose of being knocked off
again.

"Hullo, you new kid!" exclaimed