Having successfully dodged the master they struck across some fields. But alack and alas! in escaping one possible danger they were destined to run straight into the jaws of another and a more certain. At the crossing of a stile there was a rush of big fellows who had been lying in wait on the other side, and in a trice they were pounced upon and collared by Jarnley and his gang. "Got you at last, have I, Cetchy?" snarled that worthy, fairly grinning with delight. "Oh, I've a long score to pay off on your black hide, haven't I? and I'm going to begin now," tweaking the other savagely by the ear with one hand though holding him firmly by the collar with the other. "You would get me tanned by Clay, would you?" "I was tanned too," protested the victim. "And now you'll be tanned again. What Clay gave you--gave us--is nothing to what we are going to give you now. And the seven hundred lines, and the lines Sefton gave us all but let you off." "Shut up, Perkins, you beastly bully!" yelped Smithson minor, who was undergoing his share of trial in the little matter of a twisted arm and a fistic punch or two thereon. "I'll report you to Haviland if you don't leave us alone." "Oh, you'd sneak, would you? Take that--and that"--emphasising the expostulation with a couple of sounding smacks on the head. "Come on, you fellows," said Jarnley. "Don't let him go, but we'll deal with Cetchy first. Oh, yes, my black snowball, my woolly-pated beauty-- I told you I'd skin you alive, didn't I? I told you I'd rip the black hide off you, and now I'm going to do it. Now then, spread-eagle him over the steps of that stile. Oh, yes. We've been keeping these for you many a long day, my noble snowball," producing a thick but supple willow switch, and one of the others, of whom there were just half a dozen, producing one likewise. It was then or never. The victim, well aware of what a savage thrashing would be inflicted upon him, should he fail, made one last effort. Before the others had time to seize him he struck his heel down sharply on to Jarnley's toes, crushing them into the ground, at the same time sending his elbow back with all his force. It caught the bully fair in the pit of the stomach, and with a howl, promptly strangled in a gasp, Jarnley partially relaxed his hold. In a trice the Zulu boy had wrenched himself free, and, deftly ducking between two of the others who sprang at him, was off like a shot. Jarnley was beside himself with rage. "You asses!" he shouted gaspingly as he recovered his wind. "All this time we've been looking out for him, and now, just as we've got him, you let him get away." "It strikes me it was you who let him get away," retorted Perkins. "Well, we'll take it out of this little beast instead." Poor Smithson minor howled for mercy, but he howled in vain. They pulled him down over the stile step, the switches were uplifted and ready when--