“Foxibusculus, they _was_. They was--singular horrid. Caught it worse than you. We heard every word of it. You got off easy, considerin’. If I’d been Dabney I swear I’d ha’ quodded you. I think I’ll suggest it to him to-morrow.” “An’ it’s all goin’ up to the ’Ead. Oh, Good Lord!” “Every giddy word of it, my Chingangook,” said Beetle, dancing. “Why shouldn’t it? _We’ve_ done nothing wrong. _We_ ain’t poachers. _We_ didn’t cut about blastin’ the characters of poor, innocent boys--saying they were drunk.” “That I didn’t,” said Foxy. “I--I only said that you be’aved uncommon odd when you come back with that badger. Mr. King may have taken the wrong hint from that.” “’Course he did; an’ he’ll jolly well shove all the blame on you when he finds out he’s wrong. We know King, if you don’t. I’m ashamed of you. You ain’t fit to be a sergeant,” said McTurk. “Not with three thorough-goin’ young devils like you, I ain’t. I’ve been had. I’ve been ambuscaded. Horse, foot, an’ guns, I’ve been had, an’--an’ there’ll be no holdin’ the junior forms after this. M’rover, the ’Ead will send me with a note to Colonel Dabney to ask if what you say about bein’ invited was true.” “Then you’d better go in by the Lodge-gates this time, instead of chasin’ your dam’ boys--oh, that was the Epistle to King--so it was. We-el, Foxy?” Stalky put his chin on his hands and regarded the victim with deep delight. “_Ti-ra-la-la-i-tu_! I gloat! Hear me!” said McTurk. “Foxy brought us tea when we were moral lepers. Foxy has a heart. Foxy has been in the Army, too.” “I wish I’d ha’ had you in my company, young gentlemen,” said the Sergeant from the depths of his heart; “I’d ha’ given you something.” “Silence at drum-head court-martial,” McTurk went on. “I’m advocate for the prisoner; and, besides, this is much too good to tell all the other brutes in the Coll. They’d _never_ understand. They play cricket, and say: ‘Yes sir,’ and ‘O, sir,’ and ‘No, sir.’” “Never mind that. Go ahead,” said Stalky. “Well, Foxy’s a good little chap when he does not esteem himself so as to be clever.” “‘Take not out your ’ounds on a werry windy day,’” Stalky struck in. “_I_ don’t care if you let him off.” “Nor me,” said Beetle. “Heffy is my only joy--Heffy and King.” “I ’ad to do it,” said the Sergeant, plaintively. “Right, O! Led away by bad companions in the execution of his duty or--or words to that effect. You’re dismissed with a reprimand, Foxy. _We_ won’t tell about _you_. I swear we won’t,” McTurk concluded. “Bad for the discipline of the school. Horrid bad.” “Well,” said the Sergeant, gathering up the tea-things, “knowin’ what I know o’ the young dev--gentlemen of the College, I’m very glad to ’ear it. But what am I to tell the ’Ead?” “Anything you jolly well please, Foxy. _We_ aren’t the criminals.” To say that the Head was annoyed when the Sergeant appeared after dinner with the day’s crime-sheet would be putting it mildly.