“Quite like old times, ain’t it?” Stalky selected a locker and flung in his books. “We’ve come to sport with you, my young friends, for a while, because our beloved house-master has hove us out of our diggin’s.” “’Serve you jolly well right,” said Orrin, “you cribbers!” “This will never do,” said Stalky. “We can’t maintain our giddy prestige, Orrin, de-ah, if you make these remarks.” They wrapped themselves lovingly about the boy, thrust him to the opened window, and drew down the sash to the nape of his neck. With an equal swiftness they tied his thumbs together behind his back with a piece of twine, and then, because he kicked furiously, removed his shoes. There Mr. Prout happened to find him a few minutes later, guillotined and helpless, surrounded by a convulsed crowd who would not assist. Stalky, in an upper form-room, had gathered himself allies against vengeance. Orrin presently tore up at the head of a boarding party, and the form-room grew one fog of dust through which boys wrestled, stamped, shouted, and yelled. A desk was carried away in the tumult, a knot of warriors reeled into and split a door-panel, a window was broken, and a gas-jet fell. Under cover of the confusion the three escaped to the corridor, whence they called in and sent up passers-by to the fray. “Rescue, Kings! Kings! Kings! Number Twelve form-room! Rescue, Prouts--Prouts! Rescue, Macreas! Rescue, Hartopps!” The juniors hurried out like bees aswarm, asking no questions, clattered up the staircase, and added themselves to the embroilment. “Not bad for the first evening’s work,” said Stalky, rearranging his collar. “I fancy Prout’ll be somewhat annoyed. We’d better establish an _alibi_.” So they sat on Mr. King’s railings till prep. “You see,” quoth Stalky, as they strolled up to prep. with the ignoble herd, “if you get the houses well mixed up an’ scufflin’, it’s even bettin’ that some ass will start a real row. Hullo, Orrin, you look rather metagrobolized.” “It was all your fault, you beast! You started it. We’ve got two hundred lines apiece, and Heffy’s lookin’ for you. Just see what that swine Malpas did to my eye!” “I like your saying _we_ started it. Who called us cribbers? Can’t your infant mind connect cause and effect yet? Some day you’ll find out that it don’t pay to jest with Number Five.” “Where’s that shillin’ you owe me?” said Beetle suddenly. Stalky could not see Prout behind him, but returned the lead without a quaver. “I only owed you ninepence, you old usurer.” “You’ve forgotten the interest,” said McTurk. “A halfpenny a week per bob is Beetle’s charge. You must be beastly rich, Beetle.” “Well, Beetle lent me sixpence.” Stalky came to a full stop and made as to work it out on his fingers. “Sixpence on the nineteenth, didn’t he?” “Yes; but you’ve forgotten you paid no interest on the other bob--the one I lent you before.” “But you took my watch as security.” The game was developing itself almost automatically.