g, struggling. His shoulders are
pushed against the mantelpiece, and he is held by main force before the
fire, Flashman drawing his trousers tight by way of extra torture. Poor
East, in more pain even than Tom, suddenly thinks of Diggs, and darts
off to find him. "Will you sell him for ten shillings?" says one boy who
is relenting.

Tom only answers by groans and struggles.

"I say, Flashey, he has had enough," says the same boy, dropping the arm
he holds.

"No, no; another turn'll do it," answers Flashman. But poor Tom is done
already, turns deadly pale, and his head falls forward on his breast,
just as Diggs, in frantic excitement, rushes into the Hall with East at
his heels.

"You cowardly brutes!" is all he can say, as he catches Tom from them
and supports him to the Hall table. "Good God! he's dying. Here, get
some cold water--run for the housekeeper."

Flashman and one or two others slink away; the rest, ashamed and sorry,
bend over Tom or run for water, while East darts off for the
housekeeper. Water comes, and they throw it on his hands and face, and
he begins to come to. "Mother!"--the words came feebly and slowly--"it's
very cold to-night." Poor old Diggs is blubbering like a child. "Where
am I?" goes on Tom, opening his eyes. "Ah! I remember now," and he shut
his eyes again and groaned.

"I say," is whispered, "we can't do any good, and the housekeeper will
be here in a minute," and all but one steal away; he stays with Diggs,
silent and sorrowful, and fans Tom's face.

The housekeeper comes in with strong salts, and Tom soon recovers enough
to sit up. There is a smell of burning; she examines his clothes, and
looks up inquiringly. The boys are silent.

"How did he come so?" No answer.

"There's been some bad work here," she adds, looking very serious, "and
I shall speak to the Doctor about it." Still no answer.

"Hadn't we better carry him to the sick-room?" suggests Diggs.

"Oh, I can walk now," says Tom; and, supported by East and the
housekeeper, goes to the sick-room. The boy who held his ground is soon
amongst the rest, who are all in fear of their lives. "Did he peach?"
"Does she know about it?"

"Not a word--he's a stanch little fellow." And pausing a moment he adds,
"I'm sick of this work: what brutes we've been!"

Meantime Tom is stretched on the sofa in the housekeeper's room, with
East by his side, while she gets wine and water and other restoratives.

"Are you much hurt, dear ol