ed up to the row of chairs a long
way in front of Hamond, and had wriggled the greater portion of his
body through the bars, when--

No one could have said exactly how the alarm was given, or who first
saw the gleam of light through the ground-glass ventilator. The
obstacle was snatched from the centre of the room; with a rush and a
bound everybody was in bed; a moment later Mr. Rowlands entered the
room, the first thing which met his gaze being the extraordinary
spectacle of Jack Fenleigh, who, like a new kind of snail, was crawling
along the floor on his hands and knees with a cane-bottomed chair fixed
firmly on the centre of his back. The weight of the boy sitting on it
being removed, the unfortunate Jack found it impossible to force his
way any further, and thus remained unable to extricate himself from
between the bars of the obstacle.

"Fenleigh," said the master, "get up off the ground. What are you
doing, sir?"

The boy struggled to his feet, and in doing so revealed the glories of
the chest-protector. There was a subdued titter from the adjacent beds.

"Silence!" cried Mr. Rowlands. "So you're responsible for this noise
and disorder, Fenleigh? If you want to perform as a clown, you had
better leave school and join a circus. At nine o'clock to-morrow you
will come with me to the headmaster's study."

By breakfast-time on the following morning the story of this tragic
finish to the obstacle race was all over the school. Valentine heard
it, and waited anxiously to learn his cousin's fate. The latter
escaped with a severe reprimand, and the loss of the next two
half-holiday afternoons; but he was reminded that his conduct,
especially for a new boy, had been all along most unsatisfactory, and
he was given clearly to understand that any repetition of this constant
misbehaviour would result in his being expelled without further warning.

"I wish you'd take more care what you're up to, Jack," said Valentine.
"You're bound to get thrown out if you don't behave better."

"What's the odds if I am? I've only been here a month, and I hate the
place already."

"It seems to me," answered Valentine sadly, "that you don't care a
straw for anything or anybody."

"Well, why should I?" returned the other. "You wouldn't, if you were
in my place."

CHAPTER III.

THE REBEL RECLAIMED.

"'I think he will grow up pretty, and perhaps be smaller; he has
remained too long in the egg, and therefore his figur