"That kid," said Ashby to himself, as he sturdily tramped through the marsh, "ought not to have come. He's not up to it." But despite all his shouting and whistling and cooeying, not a sound came out of the mist but the wind and the driving of the rain. Still Ashby could not bring himself to leave the "kid" in the lurch. Even if he did not find him it would be better to-- "Ah! what was that?" He clapped his hands to his mouth and shouted against the wind with all his might. His voice was flung back in his face; but with it there came the feeble sound of a "coo-ey" somewhere near. Ashby sprang to it like a drowning man to a straw. If it was only a lost sheep it would be some company. For ten minutes he beat round, shouting all the time, and once or twice fancying he heard an answer. Then suddenly he came upon a great boulder, against which leaned Fisher minor, whimpering and shivering. "Here you are!" said Ashby, joyously. "Thank God for it! I gave you up for lost. The others are gone on. Come on. Hang on my arm, old hoss." "I can't; I'm too fagged to go on. I'm awfully sleepy, Ashby. You go on; I'll come presently." Ashby's reply was prompt and vigorous. He took his fellow-junior by the arm and began to march him down the slope as fast, almost faster than his weary legs would carry him. And as they started, the last of the light died out of the mist, and left them in blank darkness. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. ROLLITT MAKES A RECORD FOR FELLSGARTH. The Modern seniors had slept on soundly that morning, secure of their prey. The military operations of the preceding evening, although they resulted in the night of the besieged, had not tended to the glory of the besiegers. Indeed, when the door had at last been broken in and it was discovered that the birds had flown, a titter had gone round at the expense of Messrs. Clapperton, Dangle, and Brinkman, which had been particularly riling to those gentlemen. When in the morning the birds were found to have flown once more, the position of the seniors became positively painful. Fullerton, as usual, did not salve the wound. "I should say--not that it matters much to me--that that scores another to the rebels," said he. "How very naughty of them not to stay and be whopped, to be sure!" "The young cads!" growled Clapperton, who had the grace to be perfectly aware that he had been made ridiculous. "I don't envy them when I get hold of them." "No more do I," said Fullerton, "with their door off its hinges. It will be very draughty." "Do shut up. Why don't you go and join the enemy at once, if you're so fond of them?" said Dangle. "Well," said Clapperton, "they will keep; but we must have it out with Corder now. It's no use simply cutting him; he'll have to be taught that he can't defy the house for nothing. Go and tell him to come, Brinkman." But Corder's back was against the wall, literally and metaphorically.