."

They stood facing one another; the one serene, honest, inviting; the
other dejected and doubting. But as their eyes met the fires kindled
again in Clapperton's face, and the cloud swept off his brow. He pulled
his hand from his pocket and held it out.

"Done with you, Yorke. You're the last fellow in Fellsgarth I expected
to call friend just now."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE VOYAGE OF THE COCK-HOUSE.

Yorke was roused before daybreak next morning by a voice at his bedside.

"Is that you, Yorke?"

The voice was Mr Stratton's. The captain bounded to his feet at once.

"What is it, sir? Has he been found?"

"No," said the master; "no news. Every place has been searched where he
would be likely to be, except the mountain. It seems a very off-chance
that he has gone up there; still, it is possible. He has been on it
once or twice before. I am going there now. Would you care to come
too?"

The captain gratefully acquiesced. For a week he had been chafing at
the doctor's orders that no boy should go beyond the bounds. His
request to be allowed to undertake this very expedition had been twice
refused already.

"The doctor has given you an _exeat_ if you wish to go," said Mr
Stratton. "We are to take a guide, and it is quite understood we may be
late in getting back. I shall be glad of your company."

Yorke was ready in ten minutes--thankful at last to be allowed to do
something, yet secretly doubting if anything would come of this forlorn
quest.

Apart from Rollitt, however, good did come of it to Fellsgarth. For
during the long walk master and boy got to understand one another better
than ever before. With a common ambition for the welfare of the School,
and a common trouble at the dissensions which had split it up during the
present term, they also discovered a common hope for better times ahead.

They discussed all sorts of plans, and exchanged confidences about all
sorts of difficulties. And all the while they felt drawn close to one
another, exchanging the ordinary relations of master and boy for those
of friend and friend.

Some of my readers may say that Mr Stratton must have been a very
foolish master to give himself away to a boy, or that Yorke must have
been a very presuming boy to talk so familiarly to a master. Who cares
what they were, if they and Fellsgarth were the better for that
morning's walk?

"In many ways," said Mr Stratton, "a head boy has as much
responsibil