g; for "vengeance" is usually only the cry of those of mature
age. But a consideration of the circumstances in which he was placed,
and the advanced temperament of his mind, will make the wonder vanish.

Harry took no notice of Egerton's speech as far as an answer was
concerned. He went on unlacing his boots in silence; but he felt his
face burn white with anger.

"Now then, Campbell," cried Egerton, "none of your sulks; it won't do.
Are you going to tell a story or not?"

"No," answered Harry, bluntly and firmly.

"But it's your turn, Campbell," expostulated some of the others,
wanting the story, but yet not wanting a row.

"I'd have tried to, if Egerton hadn't said that," answered Harry to the
last speakers, whose tone seemed somewhat consolatory to him.

"Hadn't said what?" they asked.

"Why, said that I knew how to tell stories. You know what he meant,
and it's beastly bullying, it is," went on Harry, impetuously and
indignantly, "and he knows he's the liar, and not me," waxing bold from
the apparent sympathy the silence of the room seemed to augur. But in
that silence the anger of Egerton, and of a number of his special
friends, was gathering; and the words were scarcely out of Harry's
mouth, when a boot came through the darkness, hitting him on the
shoulder, and then another, and another.

Harry sat on his bed, boiling with rage. He did not feel in the mood
for fighting, and besides, in the dark it was impossible.

Then came another ominous silence; and suddenly a scuffle of feet
sounded near his bed, and before he knew where he was, his bed was
suddenly dragged out into the middle of the room, turned over, and
clothes, boots, sponges, wet towels, and pillows heaped upon him.

Harry was maddened: he longed to find some one to hit, but the darkness
prevented that. He heard suppressed voices laughing at him, but could
see not a sign of any one; the bedclothes entangled his movements; he
was wet with the sponges and bruised from the boots. What could he do?
Where could he find help? "Not at school, not at school," he said to
himself. "If I tell, I shan't be believed;" and then the idea came
across him--"I'll run away." The thought was no sooner in his head,
than his mind was firmly resolved. Yes, he would run away from this
horrid place; anywhere, anywhere, rather than stay here.

CHAPTER XIII.

FLIGHT.

In the passage--Past the last door--Somebody coming--Across the lawn--A
footstep-