drunk, and he showed himself an arrant coward, as he had done on
this occasion. The boys who remained with him looked very foolish, and
some of them felt heartily ashamed of their leader. Some resolved to
break from him altogether, but he had thrown his chains too firmly over
others to allow them to hope or even to wish to get free from him.
Lemon, Ernest, Buttar, and their companions continued their walk,
carrying poor little Eden along with them. He confessed to having
chewed a piece of the cigar and swallowed it, before he discovered that
it was not intended to be eaten. Happily for him, he became violently
sick, and then, having washed his face in a brook and taken a draught of
cold water, he was able to enjoy the beautiful coast scenery the party
ultimately reached.

"Is not this much better than sitting smoking and boozing with that
thick-headed fellow, Blackall, and his set?" said Ernest, addressing
young Eden.

"Indeed it is," was the answer. "I'm sure if Lemon will let me come
with him, I will gladly promise never to go out with Blackall any more."

"Stick to that resolution, my boy," replied Ernest. "I'll undertake
that Lemon will let you accompany him; and now let us go down on the
beach. These sands look very tempting."

The whole party were soon on the sands, strolling along and picking up
the various marine curiosities they found in their way. Most of the
party wondered at the odd-shaped things they picked up, but had not the
slightest notion of their names, or even whether they were animal or
vegetable. Ernest knew very little on the subject, though he had read a
book or so about the wonders of the sea-shore; but Lemon was able to
give his party nearly all the information they required. One of their
number was called John Gregson. He was looked upon by the school
generally as rather stupid. He seldom joined in any of their games; and
when he did, played them very badly, unless they were such as required
more judgment than practice. Now, however, he showed that he possessed
some knowledge which the others did not. Ernest had picked up a
roundish object with a hole through it, and partly covered with spines,
which Tom Bouldon stoutly declared to be a fish's egg.

"It must have been a very large fish, then," observed Ernest. "Those
prickles, too, are puzzling. Perhaps they grew after the egg was laid."

The general opinion was that Gregson knew something about all sorts of
out-of-the-w