hing," he added nervously.
"He'll get tired of it, I expect."

"I saw him kick you," said Desmond, frowning. "Now, look here,
Jonathan, you kick him; kick him as hard as ever you can where, where
he kicks you--eh? And do it to-morrow in the Yard, at nine Bill, when
everybody is looking on. You can dodge into the crowd; but if I were
you I'd kick him at the very moment he gets into line, and then he
can't pursue. And if he does pursue--which I'll bet you a bob he
don't, he'll have to tackle you and me."

"I'll do it," said John.

Next day, a whole holiday, at nine Bill, both Caesar and John were
standing close to the window of Custos' den, waiting for Lubber Sprott
to appear. While waiting, an incident occurred which must be duly
chronicled inasmuch as it has direct bearing upon this story. Only the
week before Rutford had come up to the Yard late for Bill, he being the
master whose turn it was to call over. Such tardiness, which happens
seldom, is reckoned as an unpardonable sin by Harrow boys. Briefly it
means that six hundred suffer from the unpunctuality of one.
Therefore, when Rutford appeared, slightly flushed of countenance and
visibly annoyed, the School emphasized their displeasure by derisive
cheers. Rutford, ever tactless where boys were concerned, was unwise
enough to make a speech from the steps condemning, in his usual
bombastic style, a demonstration which he ought to have known he was
quite powerless to punish or to prevent. When he had finished, the
School cheered more derisively than before. After Bill, he left the
Yard, purple with rage and humiliation.

Upon this particular morning, one of the younger masters, Basil Warde,
was calling Bill. The School knew little of Warde, save that he was an
Old Harrovian in charge of a Small House, and that his form reported
him--queer. He had instituted a queer system of punishments, he made
queer remarks, he looked queer: in fine, he was generally regarded as a
radical, and therefore a person to be watched with suspicion by boys
who, as a body, are intensely conservative. He was of a clear red
complexion with lapis-lazuli blue eyes, that peculiar blue which is the
colour of the sea on a bright stormy day. The Upper School knew that,
as a member of the Alpine Club, Warde had conquered half a dozen
hitherto unconquerable peaks.

Into the Yard and into this book Warde comes late. As he hurried to
his place, the School greeted him as they had gre