ed out.

"A row on, eh?" whispered one, as he passed us.

"It doesn't look like fun, does it?" snarled Langrish.

"Where does Tempest come in?" persisted the inquirer.

"By the door; and the sooner you get out by it the better."

"Ha, ha!--poor little naughty boys. An extra drill will do you good.
Come on, you chaps. Let's leave them to enjoy themselves. They'll get
used to it in time. Ho, ho!"

"Fall in!" called Mr Jarman.

And painfully conscious not only that a few of the volunteers were
hanging about to look on, but that the school porter was at the moment
conducting a party of visitors through the building, we obeyed
listlessly and dismally. Tempest taking his place at the end of the
line.

"Are these some of the volunteers?" we heard one of the lady spectators
ask.

"No, madam. This is an extra drill for breach of rules," replied the
official.

"Number from the right," cried Mr Jarman.

We numbered.

"Answer to your names," said the discipline master, producing a paper.
We could not help noticing that Tempest's name was mixed in along with
ours, and that no difference was made on account of his age or status.
We were then formed into double rank, and fours, and open order, and put
through a hideous series of extension exercises, irksome enough at any
time, but under present circumstances specially so. I heard Dicky Brown
beside me groan as he stood leaning over with his left knee bent, his
right leg stretched out behind, and his two arms doubled up at his side.

"I wonder they don't all kick," he whispered.

"Not easy like this," said I.

"How Tempest must be enjoying it!" Dick murmured.

"Poor beggar! it's a nasty dose for him."

But if Mr Jarman counted on any protest or resistance from his senior
victim, he was disappointed. Tempest went patiently and impassively
through the drill with the rest of us; but, as we could see, with a
blazing eye fixed all the while on the master. But I could guess the
struggle that was going on in my friend's breast. Mr Jarman may have
flattered himself he was "taking it out of him", Dicky and I knew
better.

We all took our cue from Tempest that morning, and any inclination to
rebel or mutiny was suppressed. We contented ourselves with glaring at
our tormentor, and denying him the excuse he probably desired of
prolonging the agony. My impression is that Mr Jarman was never so
happy as when he realised that he was absolute master of the situatio