once at a big match, when the three, self-isolated, stood
to attention for half an hour in full view of all the visitors, to whom
fags, subsidized for that end, pointed them out as victims of Prout's
tyranny. And Prout was a sensitive man.

In the infinitely petty confederacies of the Common-room, King and
Macrea, fellow house-masters, had borne it in upon him that by games,
and games alone, was salvation wrought. Boys neglected were boys lost.
They must be disciplined. Left to himself, Prout would have made
a sympathetic house-master; but he was never so left, and with the
devilish insight of youth, the boys knew to whom they were indebted for
his zeal.

"Must we go down, sir?' said McTurk.

"I don't want to order you to do what a right-thinking boy should do
gladly. I'm sorry." And he lurched out with some hazy impression that he
had sown good seed on poor ground.

"Now what does he suppose is the use of that?" said Beetle.

"Oh, he's cracked. King jaws him in Common-room about not keepin' us up
to the mark, an' Macrea burbles about 'dithcipline,' an' old Heffy sits
between 'em sweatin' big drops. I heard Oke (the Common-room butler)
talking to Richards (Prout's house-servant) about it down in the
basement the other day when I went down to bag some bread," said Stalky.

"What did Oke say?" demanded McTurk, throwing "Eric" into a corner.

"Oh, he said, 'They make more nise nor a nest full o' jackdaws, an' half
of it like we'd no ears to our heads that waited on 'em. They talks over
old Prout--what he've done an' left undone about his boys. An' how their
boys be fine boys, an' his'n be dom bad.' Well, Oke talked like that,
you know, and Richards got awf'ly wrathy. He has a down on King for
something or other. Wonder why?"

"Why, King talks about Prout in form-room--makes allusions, an' all
that--only half the chaps are such asses they can't see what he's
drivin' at. And d'you remember what he said about the 'Casual House'
last Tuesday? He meant us. They say he says perfectly beastly things to
his own house, making fun of Prout's," said Beetle.

"Well, we didn't come here to mix up in their rows," McTurk said
wrathfully. "Who'll bathe after call-over? King's takin' it in the
cricket-field. Come on." Turkey seized his straw and led the way.

They reached the sun-blistered pavilion over against the gray
Pebbleridge just before roll-call, and, asking no questions, gathered
from King's voice and manner that his h