d
enter either by the Lodge-gates on the upper road--they were careful to
ingratiate themselves with the Lodge-keeper and his wife--drop down into
the combe, and return along the cliffs; or they could begin at the combe
and climb up into the road.

They were careful not to cross the Colonel's path--he had served his
turn, and they would not out-wear their welcome--nor did they show up on
the sky-line when they could move in cover. The shelter of the gorze
by the cliff-edge was their chosen retreat. Beetle christened it the
Pleasant Isle of Aves, for the peace and the shelter of it; and here,
the pipes and tobacco once cache'd in a convenient ledge an arm's length
down the cliff, their position was legally unassailable.

For, observe, Colonel Dabney had not invited them to enter his house.
Therefore, they did not need to ask specific leave to go visiting; and
school rules were strict on that point. He had merely thrown open his
grounds to them; and, since they were lawful Bug-hunters, their extended
bounds ran up to his notice-boards in the combe and his Lodge-gates on
the hill.

They were amazed at their own virtue.

"And even if it wasn't," said Stalky, flat on his back, staring into the
blue. "Even suppose we were miles out of bounds, no one could get at us
through this wuzzy, unless he knew the tunnel. Isn't this better than
lyin' up just behind the Coll.--in a blue funk every time we had a
smoke? Isn't your Uncle Stalky--?"

"No," said Beetle--he was stretched at the edge of the cliff spitting
thoughtfully. "We've got to thank Turkey for this. Turkey is the Great
Man. Turkey, dear, you're distressing Heffles."

"Gloomy old ass!" said McTurk, deep in a book.

"They've got us under suspicion," said Stalky. "Hoophats _is_ so
suspicious somehow; and Foxy always makes every stalk he does a sort
of--sort of--"

"Scalp," said Beetle. "Foxy's a giddy Chingangook."

"Poor Foxy," said Stalky. "He's goin' to catch us one of these days.
'Said to me in the Gym last night, 'I've got my eye on you, Mister
Corkran. I'm only warning you for your good.' Then I said: 'Well, you
jolly well take it off again, or you'll get into trouble. I'm only
warnin' you for your good.' Foxy was wrath."

"Yes, but it's only fair sport for Foxy," said Beetle. "It's Hefflelinga
that has the evil mind. 'Shouldn't wonder if he thought we got tight."

"I never got squiffy but once--that was in the holidays," said Stalky,
reflectively; "an' i