aces through what had once been the
garden of the house, when a voice cried:

"Hallo! Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Paul was somewhat startled, for he thought the place deserted. He found
himself mistaken, however, for a boy came from the ruins and faced him.
He was slightly taller than Paul, and of slimmer build; but he was none
the less well proportioned, and his limbs moved with the easy movement
of a young athlete. In spite of the dusk, Paul recognized him. He was
one of the senior boys of St. Bede's--the scholars of which were the
deadly rivals of Paul's school. There had been a perpetual feud between
St. Bede's and Garside for many years. Sometimes it would be patched up
for a week or two; then it would break out with greater violence than
ever. Just before the vacation, the feud had burst out stronger than
ever. There is no telling to what length it might have been carried,
but, fortunately, the vacation came on, and hostilities were suspended.
The boy before him was Wyndham, one of the ringleaders on the other
side. The recognition was simultaneous.

"You're one of the bounders of Garside, aren't you?"

"Yes," Paul candidly admitted; "and you--you're one of the Bede's,
aren't you? I haven't time to talk. There's some one after me. Can you
put me up to a place to hide in?--quick, there's a good fellow!"

"Running away--eh?" said the other contemptuously, without moving.
"That's like you Garside fellows!"

"I wish I had only the time to teach you better," retorted Paul
indignantly. Then, remembering all that was at stake, he suppressed his
indignation, and in quick, earnest tones: "I'm not sneaking--on my word
of honour. I'm the bearer of an important paper, belonging to a chum's
father. Two men are following me up to try to get it from me. If I can't
steer clear of them they will take it from me. You know this place. Hide
me somewhere!"

The earnest tones of Paul appealed to Wyndham.

"I don't know of any hiding-place, except----"

"Except what?" cried Paul eagerly, as he again caught the sound of
voices from the roadway.

"The old well."

"The old well! How is it possible to hide there?"

"Well, I can let you down in the bucket, if you care to run the risk.
I've been down it myself--but I'm not a Garside fellow."

It was as much as to say that "a Garside fellow" was not capable of
doing what a "St. Bede fellow" could do.

"I'd run any risk--quick! I can near them coming! Where's the we