an to whop him."

John fled.

"Whop him?"

The Fifth howled rage and remonstrance. Scaife fiercely announced his
intention of not taking a whopping from Trieve. None the less, the
announcement had a sobering effect upon the elder boys. The
consequence of a refusal must prove serious. Sooner or later Scaife
would be whopped, probably by Lawrence, no ha'penny matter that!

"You'd better go, Demon," said Lovell. "Trieve can't hurt you. I'd
speak to the idiot, only he hates me so poisonously, just as I hate
him."

"I'll go," said the Caterpillar.

John had not noticed the Caterpillar before. He stood up, spick and
span, carefully adjusting his coat, pulling down his immaculate cuffs.

"Good old Caterpillar," said somebody. "By Jove, he really thinks that
Trieve will listen to--him!"

"Any one who has been nearly three years in this house," said the
Caterpillar, "has the right to tell Miss Trieve that she is--er--not
behaving like a lady."

"And he'll tell you you're screwed, you old fool."

"I am not screwed," replied the Caterpillar, solemnly. "Whisky and
potass does not agree with everybody; but I am not screwed, not at
all." So speaking he sat down rather suddenly.

Lovell shrugged his shoulders, glanced at the Caterpillar and Scaife,
and left the room. Within two minutes he returned, chapfallen and
frowning.

"I knew it would be useless. Look here, Demon, you must grin and bear
it."

"No," said Scaife, "not from Miss Trieve."

He laughed as before. The Fifth exchanged glances. Then Scaife said
thickly, "Give me another drink, I want a drink; so does young Verney.
Look at him!"

John was white about the gills and trembling, but not for himself.

"Do go, Scaife!" he entreated.

The Fifth formed a group; holding a council of war, engrossed in trying
to find a way out of a wood which of a sudden had turned into a tangled
thicket. And so what each would have strenuously prevented came to
pass. Scaife pulled a bottle from under a sofa-cushion, and put it to
his lips--John, standing at the door, could not see what was taking
place.

When the bottle was torn from Scaife's hands, the mischief had been
done. The boy had swallowed a quantity of raw spirit. Till now the
whisky had been much diluted with mineral water.

"I'm going to him," yelled Scaife, struggling with his friends. "And
I'm going to take a cricket stump with me. Le'me go--le'me go!"

The Caterpillar surveyed him with