ured flanks marched the Hoplites, seniors hurling
jests one after another--simple and primitive jests of the Stone Age.
To these the three added themselves, dispassionately, with an air of
aloofness, almost sadly.

"And they look all right, too," said Stalky. "It can't be Rattray, can
it? Rattray?"

No answer.

"Rattray, dear? He seems stuffy about something or other. Look here, old
man, we don't bear any malice about your sending that soap to us last
week, do we? Be cheerful, Rat. You can live this down all right. I dare
say it's only a few fags. Your house is so beastly slack, though."

"You aren't going back to the house, are you?" said McTurk. The victims
desired nothing better. "You've simply no conception of the reek up
there. Of course, frowzin' as you do, you wouldn't notice it; but, after
this nice wash and the clean, fresh air, even you'd be upset. 'Much
better camp on the Burrows. We'll get you some straw. Shall we'?" The
house hurried in to the tune of "John Brown's body," sung by loving
schoolmates, and barricaded themselves in their form-room. Straightway
Stalky chalked a large cross, with "Lord, have mercy upon us," on the
door, and left King to find it.

The wind shifted that night and wafted a carrion-reek into Macrea's
dormitories; so that boys in nightgowns pounded on the locked door
between the houses, entreating King's to wash. Number Five study went to
second lesson with not more than half a pound of camphor apiece in their
clothing; and King, too wary to ask for explanations, gibbered a while
and hurled them forth. So Beetle finished yet another poem at peace in
the study.

"They're usin' carbolic now. Malpas told me," said Stalky. "King thinks
it's the drains."

"She'll need a lot o' carbolic," said McTurk. "No harm tryin', I
suppose. It keeps King out of mischief."

"I swear I thought he was goin' to kill me when I sniffed just now. He
didn't mind Burton major sniffin' at me the other day, though. He never
stopped Alexander howlin' 'Stinker!' into our form-room before--before
we doctored 'em. He just grinned," said Stalky. "What was he frothing
over you for, Beetle?"

"Aha! That, was my subtle jape. I had him on toast. You know he always
jaws about the learned Lipsius."

"'Who at the age of four'--that chap?" said McTurk.

"Yes. Whenever he hears I've written a poem. Well, just as I was sittin'
down, I whispered, 'How is our learned Lepsius?' to Burton major. Old
Butt grinned like