The men of Rainhurst were undisguisedly perplexed. For the last two hours Harley fellows had been arriving at the school, not openly, but in mysterious driblets, looking about them as if in fear of being spotted and yet decidedly proud to be on view. Moreover, as each party had arrived they had been greeted by their predecessors with cordial hand-shakings as if by way of congratulation on their safe arrival. Now they were all gathered together in one great concourse just inside the entrance to the school, whilst one amongst them, a strangely thin boy with tremendous spectacles, stood out from the crowd and from a position of vantage in the roadway was peering into the distance. Whenever one of the Harley Fifteen appeared in sight this boy turned to the waiting throng, lifted his hand in dignity above his head as if for silence, and in a loud clear voice announced the gentleman’s name, whereupon there followed a momentary silence until the player himself appeared at the gate, when he was greeted with tumultuous applause. It was all exceedingly odd. The First Fifteen were coming, too, not in the appointed brake from the station but just as the boys themselves had come, clandestinely and by various routes, some by train, and others by cycle or by trap. The captain of Rainhurst, who was watching it all with a frankly curious stare, had never seen the like. As time passed, however, it became evident that there was still some further treat in store for those who were waiting at the gates. There was that in their watchful attitude that one may see in the vast crowd at any state procession that cheers its favourites as they pass, yet waits in tense expectancy, keeping its greatest outburst for the great one whom they have really come to see. There became noticeable, too, an increased alertness in the manner of the boy who was making the announcements. He peered more frequently and rather more impatiently up and down the road. Sometimes he left his position to secure a better view from the other side of the way. Clearly the arrival of someone of real importance to them was expected at any moment. It came at last. The looker-out, who, though wholly self-appointed, seemed to be treated with a tolerant courtesy and some respect by his fellows, darted suddenly towards them and threw up his arm stiffly erect above his head, pointing the way to heaven. The silence was immediate. “They’re coming,” said he. “Look out, it’s Rouse!”