hut up, Barker," said Upton; "I've heard of your ways before, and
when I catch you at your tricks, I'll teach you a lesson. Come up to my
study, Williams, if you like."

Upton was a fine sturdy fellow of eighteen, immensely popular in the
school for his prowess and good looks. He hated bullying, and often
interfered to protect little boys, who accordingly idolised him, and did
anything he told them very willingly. He meant to do no harm, but he
did great harm. He was full of misdirected impulses, and had a great
notion of being manly, which he thought consisted in a fearless
disregard of all school rules, and the performance of the wildest
tricks. For this reason he was never very intimate with his cousin
Russell, whom he liked very much, but who was too scrupulous and
independent to please him. Eric, on the other hand, was just the boy to
take his fancy, and to admire him in return; his life, strength, and
pluck made him a ready pupil in all schemes of mischief, and Upton, who
had often noticed him, would have been the first to shudder had he known
how far his example went to undermine all Eric's lingering good
resolutions, and injure permanently the boy of whom he was so fond.

From this time Eric was much in Upton's study, and constantly by his
side in the playground. In spite of their disparity in age and position
in the school, they became sworn friends, though their friendship was
broken every now and then by little quarrels, which united them all the
more closely after they had not spoken to each other perhaps for a week.

"Your, cousin Upton has `taken up' Williams," said Montagu to Russell
one afternoon, as he saw the two strolling together on the beach, with
Eric's arm in Upton's.

"Yes, I am sorry for it."

"So am I. We shan't see so much of him now."

"Oh, that's not my only reason," answered Russell, who had a rare habit
of always going straight to the point.

"You mean you don't like the `taking up' system."

"No, Montagu; I used once to have fine theories about it. I used to
fancy that a big fellow would do no end of good to one lower in the
school, and that the two would stand to each other in the relation of
knight to squire. You know what the young knights were taught, Monty--
to keep their bodies under, and bring them into subjection; to love God,
and speak the truth always. That sounds very grand and noble to me.
But when a big fellow takes up a little one, _you_ know pretty well t