As Thornton struggled to his feet—the operation was a clumsy one, as his ankles were lashed close together,—he began volubly: “You big bullies!” But he did not go far. “Here,” said Kit, “wash his mouth out, Tony.” And Tony washed it out with plenty of Castile soap and very little water. “Now strip!” said Tony. The bully slowly took off his coat, and then his shirt. “It’s not a pretty sight, is it, Kit?” laughed Tony. “Nevertheless it will hurt as much as Finch’s back. Bend over.” “Please, please, let me off. ’Pon honor, I’ll never do it again—I swear—I swear—please don’t lick me; please, _please_ don’t lick—ouch!” He suddenly collapsed with a squeal of anguish, as Tony brought the leathern strap across his shoulders with an unmerciful swish. “You wouldn’t let Finch off when he blubbered, would you? Well, we won’t let you off. Ready? Coming.” “Ouch! ouch!!—oh, I swear—please—oh, you bullies, you—ouch! owhhh!” Then Kit stuffed a towel in his soap-suddy mouth and stilled the noise. When he had been well punished, they flung him on the bed, and let him howl there while they administered a like thrashing to Dunstan. He bore it a little more manfully, and consequently got off more easily. Suddenly they were all startled by a sharp knock on the door. “Gumshoe! by the great horn spoon!” exclaimed Kit. “Yes,” he called, “who is it?” “Open, open this door instantly,” came in the well-known tones of Mr. Ebenezer Roylston. “Open instantly, or I shall send for the servants to break it in.” “All right, sir,” called Kit, adding _sotto voce_, “It would be a jolly good stunt if we let him do it. Get on your coats,” he hissed at the two Fourth Formers. Instinct prompted them to quickness; but not quick enough to satisfy Mr. Roylston, for the order was repeated, and the handle of the door rattled impatiently. Kit unlocked the door at last, and Mr. Roylston entered. “What is the meaning of this unseemly commotion? What are you doing with locked doors when you are supposed to be out? What is the meaning of this strap? Why are these two Fourth Formers here crying? There has been bullying?” Kit laughed. “That’s about it,” he said. An angry flush suffused Mr. Roylston’s countenance, as he exaggerated Kit’s laugh into impertinence. “You are going too far, Wilson. I shall report you to the Head for bullying and gross impertinence. You also, Deering——” “You might as well take the trouble to find out what you are going to report us for,” said Kit. “Shut up, Kit,” said Tony. “If you——” “Silence, Deering,” interrupted Mr. Roylston. “I am perfectly capable of rebuking a boy for insolence without your assistance. You, Thornton and Dunstan, come with me. You, Deering and Wilson, go to your rooms, and wait there until you are sent for.”