t only
wanted a little management. I mean to go in for engineer-- Hullo,
what's that rummy stone out there? or is it a stone, or a fish, or-- I
say, Tom," he added, clutching my arm, "I'm bothered if that's not a
pistol!"

My white face and chattering teeth made reply unnecessary. There,
snugly perched on a little heap of stones, as if set up for inspection,
lay the unlucky pistol, gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Dicky looked first at the pistol, then at me; and began slowly to take
in the state of affairs.

He took a cautious step out in the mud in the direction of the weapon,
but came back.

"I thought you could hardly be chucking in all those things for fun,"
said he presently.

I stood gaping in an imbecile way, and said nothing.

"I know whose it is. He had it up here once before."

"I say," gulped I, "can't you let the water in again?" Dick had not
considered this. His triumph had been letting the water out. However,
he would see what could be done.

We went down into the shrubbery. About a foot of water lay on the
ground, promising great fertility some day, but decidedly muddy-looking
to-day.

"The thing will be to bung up the hole first," said Dicky.

So we set to work to hammer up the end of the zinc pipe and stuff the
aperture round with sods and stones. I even sacrificed my cap to the
good cause.

The bell began to ring before we had well completed the task. "That
ought to keep any more from running out," said Dicky. "If we're lucky,
the water will come in on its own hook at the other end."

The theory was not exactly scientific, for scientific men do not believe
in luck. Still, it was the best we could think of as we turned to go.

"Stop a bit," said I, as we were leaving. "May as well tidy up a bit in
there before we go, eh?"

"In there" was the bed of the pond.

"It might look better," said Dick, turning up his trousers. We decently
interred the pistol in the mud, and raised a small heap of stones to
keep it down; and then cautiously obliterating our footsteps in the mud,
we made for _terra firma_, and scuttled back to school as fast as our
legs would carry us.

Fortunately we entered unobserved, and disencumbered ourselves of our
muddy boots without attracting attention to their condition. Ten
minutes later we were deep in our work in the big schoolroom.

Preparation that night was a solemn and gloomy ceremony. Dicky and I
kept catching one another's eyes, and then gl