a dancing dervish to the dining-hall.

"_Ti-ra-la-la-i-tu_! I gloat! Hear me!" Beetle spun behind him with
outstretched arms.

"_Ti-ra-la-la-i-tu_! I gloat! Hear me!" McTurk's voice cracked.

Now was there or was there not a distinct flavor of beer as they shot
past Mr. Prout?

He was unlucky in that his conscience as a house-master impelled him to
consult his associates. Had he taken his pipe and his troubles to
little Hartopp's rooms he would, perhaps, have been saved confusion, for
Hartopp believed in boys, and knew something about them. His fate led
him to King, a fellow house-master, no friend of his, but a zealous
hater of Stalky & Co.

"Ah-haa!" said King, rubbing his hands when the tale was told. "Curious!
Now _my_ house never dream of doing these things."

"But you see I've no proof, exactly."

"Proof? With the egregious Beetle! As if one wanted it! I suppose it
is not impossible for the Sergeant to supply it? Foxy is considered
at least a match for any evasive boy in my house. Of course they were
smoking and drinking somewhere. That type of boy always does. They think
it manly."

"But they've no following in the school, and they are distinctly--er
brutal to their juniors," said Prout, who had from a distance seen
Beetle return, with interest, his butterfly-net to a tearful fag.

"Ah! They consider themselves superior to ordinary delights.
Self-sufficient little animals! There's something in McTurk's Hibernian
sneer that would make me a little annoyed. And they are so careful
to avoid all overt acts, too. It's sheer calculated insolence. I am
strongly opposed, as you know, to interfering with another man's house;
but they need a lesson, Prout. They need a sharp lesson, if only to
bring down their over-weening self-conceit. Were I you, I should devote
myself for a week to their little performances. Boys of that order--and
I may flatter myself, but I think I know boys--don't join the
Bug-hunters for love. Tell the Sergeant to keep his eye open; and, of
course, in my peregrinations I may casually keep mine open, too."

"_Ti-ra-la-la-i-tu_! I gloat! Hear me!" far down the corridor.

"Disgusting!" said King. "Where do they pick up these obscene noises?
One sharp lesson is what they want."

The boys did not concern themselves with lessons for the next few days.
They had all Colonel Dabney's estate to play with, and they explored it
with the stealth of Red Indians and the accuracy of burglars. They coul