ently fancied he could hear the faint
murmur of voices. This proceeded from the boat-house, wherein Hill
moored the moat punt. "I'll just make a reconnaissance in force," said
Gus, putting down his rod. Arrived at the punt-house, Gus peeped in
through the slightly open door, and discovered no less important
personages than Runjit Mehtah and "Burnt Lamb." The two dervishes were
lolling luxuriantly on the punt cushions, each smoking a fine fat cigar,
and the combined efforts of the two gave quite an Oriental air of
magnificence to the ramshackle boat-house.

"Hallo!" said Gus. "What the deuce are you doing?"

The cigars nearly fell from the mouth of each of the smokers as Gus
appeared on the scene, but when the smokers made out Todd's face
through the haze, Mehtah said, with much relief--

"Oh, talking."

"That isn't quite a true bill," said Gus. "Your Flora Fina de Cabbagios
keep the fish from biting."

"Have one," said Burnt Lamb, hospitably offering Todd a cigar.

"No thanks. Is this punt-house your usual lounge?"

"Sometimes," said Mehtah. "We can't do without our smoke, and we can't
do it, you know, at the school."

"No, that you jolly well can't, my dusky Othello. But aren't you two
booked for the Houser's this afternoon? I thought you were the backbone
of Biffen's."

"The match is not for an hour yet," said Lamb.

"Oh yes," said Mehtah, "we're going to sit on your house this afternoon,
Todd."

At this most interesting point of the conversation the door of the
punt-house was violently slammed to, and Gus was propelled forward clean
into the punt and received hurriedly into the unexpectant arms of Burnt
Lamb. Before any of the three could understand what had happened there
was a hurried fumbling with the staple and pin of the punt-house door
from the outside, and then an equally hurried retreat of footsteps.

"Well, I'm hanged!" said Gus, after he had picked himself up and tried
the door. "We're locked in."

Young Rogers and Wilson, who had done this fell deed, hoped there was
no doubt about the locking. This couple of ornaments had immediately
after dinner snatched their caps and ran on past the Lodestone Farm for
a particular purpose. They had found a yellowhammer's nest a day or so
before, containing one solitary egg, and their hurried run was for the
purpose of seeing if there was any increase, and if so--well, the usual
result. They were anxious to get back to the cricket-field in time to
shout