He shakily dropped into his
saddle; and, with a mind pretty busy, he tailed wearily after Acton to
St. Amory's.

CHAPTER XIV

IN THE STABLE

After tea that day Acton went down to the farm _solus_, not having,
as you will presently see, any need of Jack's company, even if Bourne had
felt any desire to accompany him, which he didn't.

The monitor tinkled his bell, and in answer to the ringing, Raffles
lounged out of a barn, the inseparable Warmint trotting at his master's
heels.

"Suppose we'd better go into the stable, Raffles."

The odour of the Coon's afternoon cigar still hung about the place, and
the stable was half dark, but as Acton had an idea that his conversation
with Raffles would not be a short one, and the night was rather cold,
they went in.

"Fire away, Raffles. Start at the beginning."

"Very good, sir," said Raffles, seating himself on the corn-chest.
"Agreeable to instructions received from Mr. Acting----"

"Acton," suggested that gentleman.

"Acting--I said so, didn't I? Very well! Agreeable to instructions
received from you, sir, I prepared----"

"Don't be so beastly legal, you ass!"

"Let a cove tell 'is tale 'is own way, sir. We'll get on better like
that. As I was going to say, following your tip, I prepared to show that
young shaver, Bourne, a few things which as you told me he ought not to
know of, and to do a few things which you told me he ought not to do--in
fact, to put him on the way of breakin' every blessed rule that that beak
of your school 'as drawn up for the guidance of the youth and the
beauties under 'is 'and. What's the name of the beak, sir?"

"Oh, Moore!" said Acton, impatiently.

"The young shaver spoke of 'im different."

"Corker, perhaps," said Acton.

"That's it," continued Raffles. "Well, Corker 'asn't got a thoroughbred
greenhorn in Bourne, Mr. Acting."

"No. Young Bourne's head is on his shoulders, more or less. Get on."

"Well, we opened the ball with a little bunny-shootin', for he couldn't
stand Warmint's workin' among the rats. He shoots moderate straight, so I
doctored his cartridges, or he'd have cleared out the bank. Not more than
two in the half-dozen, sir. And then he couldn't understand it. What
might Corker say to the bunnies, sir?"

"Oh, a thrashing, perhaps, and a stringing up for the rest of the term."

"We went to the Blue Cow on wet days. Billiards, beer, and 'baccy, Mr.
Acting, was the true bill there. What's the law on thos