he bay? It would be glorious a
day like this!"

"I'm not sure old Rogers," (that was the disrespectful way in which, I
regret to say, we were wont to designate Dr Rogers, our head master)
"would like it," I said; "he's got some notion into his head about
currents and tides, and that makes him fidgety."

"Currents and fiddlesticks!" broke in Hall, with a laugh; "what does
_he_ know about them? I tell you, a day like this, with a good sailing
breeze, and four of us to row, in case it dropped, there'd be no more
difficulty in going over there and back than there would in rowing from
here back to Parkhurst."

"How long would it take to get to Shargle?" inquired Hutton.

"Why, only two hours, and perhaps less. The wind's exactly right for
going and coming back too. We can be back by four easily, and that
allows us an hour or two to land there."

It certainly was tempting; the day was perfection, and Colveston Bay had
never looked more fascinating. The headlands stood out so distinctly in
the clear air that it was hard to imagine Shargle Head was five miles
distant from where we sat.

When the proposition had first been made I had felt a passing
uncomfortableness as to the lawfulness of such an expedition without the
distinct sanction of the head master; but the more I gazed on the bay,
and the more Hall talked in his enthusiastic manner of the delights of a
cruise, and the longer I watched the fairy-like progress of the little
white-sailed fishing-boat, the less I thought of anything but the
pleasure which the scheme offered.

So when Hall said, "Shall we go, boys? What do you say?" I for one
replied, "All serene."

All this while one of our party had been silent, watching the fishing-
boat, but taking no part in our discussion. He was Charlie Archer, a
new boy at Parkhurst, and some years our junior. But from the first I
had taken a remarkable fancy to this clever, good-humoured, plucky boy,
who henceforth had become my frequent companion, and with me the
companion of the others who now composed our party. He now looked up
and said, greatly to our surprise--

"I say, I don't want to go!"

"Why not?" we all asked.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," he replied, in evident confusion. "I don't
want to spoil your fun, you know, but I'd rather not go myself."

"Why, what on earth's the matter with you, Charlie?" I asked. "I
thought you were always ready for an adventure."

"I'd rather not go, please," he repe