night.
Glad you've come to Templeton."

"Look here, by the way," said Swinstead, as they parted, "don't say
anything about it to anybody. There's such a lot of jealousy over these
things. Best to get it all settled first. Don't you think so?"

"Yes," said Dick, feeling a good deal bewildered, and doubtful whether
after all he had not been foolish in undertaking so important a task.

He returned to his chum in an abstracted frame of mind. He had
certainly expected his achievement that afternoon would give him a
"footing" in Templeton, but in his wildest dreams he had not supposed it
would give him such a lift as this.

Whipper-in of the Templeton Harriers was rapid promotion for a new boy
on his first day. But then, he reflected, if they really were hard up
for a fellow to take the office, it would be rather ungracious to refuse
it.

"What did they want you for?" asked Heathcote.

"Oh, talking about the race, don't you know, and that sort of thing,"
said Dick, equivocally.

"Did they say anything about me?"

"Not a word, old man."

Whereat Heathcote turned a little crusty, and wondered that ten yards in
a quarter of a mile should make such a difference.

Dick was bursting to tell him all about it, and made matters far worse
by betraying that he had a secret, which he could on no account impart.

"You'll know to-morrow, most likely," said he. "I'm awfully sorry they
made me promise to keep it close. But I'll tell you first of all when
its settled; and I may be able to give you a leg up before long."

Heathcote said he did not want a leg up; and feeling decidedly out of
humour, made some excuse to go indoors and hunt up young Aspinall.

On his way he encountered a junior, next to whom he had sat at dinner,
and with whom he had then exchanged a few words.

"Where are you going?" demanded that youthful warrior.

"Indoors," said Heathcote.

"No, you aren't," replied the bravo, standing like a wolf across the
way.

It was an awkward position for a pacific boy like Heathcote, who mildly
enquired--

"Why not?"

"Because you cheeked me," replied the wolf.

"How? I didn't mean to," replied the lamb.

"That'll do. You've got to apologise."

"Apologise! What for?"

"Speaking to me at dinner-time."

The blood of the Heathcotes began to tingle.

"Suppose I don't apologise?" asked he.

"You'll be sorry for it."

"What will you do?"

"Lick you."

"Then," said Heathcote, mildly, "you'd be