to-day in
this. It's a bit of last week's _Templeton Observer_."

Heathcote looked at the paragraph his friend pointed to, and read:--

*The mysterious disappearance of a boat*.--Up to the present no news
has been heard of the _Martha_ of Templeton, which is supposed to have
been stolen from its moorings on the night of the 24th ult. The
police, however, profess to have a clue to the perpetrators of the
robbery. It is stated that late on the evening in question a lad,
without shoes or stockings, was seen on the strand in the
neighbourhood of the boat, and as the lad has been lost sight of
since, it is supposed he may be concerned. At present the police are
unable to give a description of the suspected lad, but vigilant
enquiries are being prosecuted, and it is hoped that before long the
mystery may be solved and the culprit brought to justice.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

IN WHICH OUR HEROES DO NOT DISTINGUISH THEMSELVES.

One result of the alarming paragraph in the _Templeton Observer_ was,
that Dick and Heathcote for the remainder of the term became models of
virtue as far as going out of school bounds was concerned.

Other boys might stray down the High Street and look at the shops, but
they didn't. Others might go down to the beach and become familiar with
the boatmen, but our heroes were far too respectable. Others might
"mitch" off for a private cruise round Sprit Rock in quest of whiting,
or other treasures of the deep; but Dick and Georgie would not sully
their fair fame with any such breach of Templeton rules.

They kept up early morning "Tub," but that was the limit of their
wanderings from the fold, and it was often amusing to mark the diligence
with which they always took to drying their heads with the towels on the
way up, if ever a boatman happened to cross their path.

Heathcote on more than one occasion was compelled, politely but firmly,
to decline Pledge's commissions into the town, although it sometimes
cost him words, and, worse still, sneers from his patron.

Once, however, he had to yield, and a terrible afternoon he spent in
consequence.

"Youngster," said the 'Spider,' "I want you to go to Webster's in High
Street and get a book for me."

"Afraid I can't, Pledge," said Heathcote. "I must swot this afternoon."

"What have you got to do?"

"There's thirty lines of Cicero, and I haven't looked at them."

"I'll do it for you before you come back."

"And there