s and the beautiful pheasants" (this delicate allusion to Mr.
Byles's poaching experiences was much appreciated); "or you were among
the books, then you will describe what you love in them; or you were
looking at a horse, I expect to hear about that horse"; and the whole
school understood that this was a direct invitation to Speug, to give an
exact picture of an Irish mare that his father had just bought. "The
subject, ah!" said the Count, "that does not matter; it is the manner,
the style, the _esprit_, that is what I shall value. I wish you all the
good success, and I will go a walk in the meadow till you have
finished."

"Do yir best, laddies," said Bulldog, "for the credit of the school and
to please the Count. If I see ony laddie playing tricks I'll do my part
to teach him sobriety, and if I see one copying from another, out he
goes. Ye have one hour from this meenut, make the most o't," and the
tournament was open.

Bulldog, apparently reading his morning paper, and only giving a casual
glance to see that no one took advantage of the strange circumstances,
was really watching his flock very closely, and checking his judgment of
each one by this new test. Dull, conscientious lads like the Dowbiggins
began at once, in order that they might not lose a moment of time, but
might put as much written stuff upon the paper as possible; yet now and
again they stopped and looked round helplessly because they had no books
and no tutor to assist them, and they realised for the first time how
little they had in their own heads.

"Ha! ha!" said Bulldog to himself, "I kent ye were naithing but a
painted show, and it 'ill do ye good to find that out for yirselves."

Jock Howieson and his kind regarded the whole matter as a new form of
entertainment, and as he could not have put into anything approaching
connected words the experiences of his last Saturday, he employed the
time in cutting up his unwritten paper into squares of an inch, and
making them into pellets with which he prevented the Dowbiggin mind from
being too much absorbed in study. He did this once too often, and
Bulldog went down to call upon him with a cane and with plain, simple
words.

"His head is an inch thick," said Bulldog, as he went back to his desk,
"but there's the making of a man in Jock, though he 'ill never be able
to write a decent letter to save his life. He would suit the Scots Greys
down to the ground."

Speug had given a solemn promise to Nes