Dangle, as he crossed the Green to class, was hooted all the way. Brinkman was followed about with derisive cheers, and cries of "Look out! Corder's coming"; and Clapperton, when he appeared, was silently cut. Fellows went out of the way to avoid him; and the chair on either side of him was left vacant in Hall. "Did you hear," said Ramshaw to his neighbour at the prefects' table at dinner-time, "that they've begun to drag the lake to-day?" A grim silence greeted the question. Fellows tried to go on with their meal. But somehow Ramshaw had destroyed every one's appetite. "Nonsense!" said Yorke. "He took food with him. You forget that." "That looks as if he'd gone off the beaten track somewhere," said Fullerton. "It does--and Hawk's Pike is as likely a place as any other," said Yorke. "Whew! there was frost on it the other night," some one said. "I wish the doctor would let us go out and look for him. We've a much better chance of finding him than police and guides." Here the signal was given to rise, and every one dispersed. Yorke stayed--one of the last. As he went out he caught sight of a solitary figure walking moodily ahead, with hands dug in pockets and head down, the picture of dejection. Yorke could hardly recognise in this back view his old rival and enemy, Clapperton. Yet he it was. A few weeks ago, and he always marched to and from his house in the boisterous company of friends and admirers. Now he was left alone. A flush of something like shame mounted to the captain's cheeks. He had no love for this fellow. He owed him little gratitude. And yet the sight of him thus solitary, cut off from the stream, stirred him. Did he not try, in his humble way, to follow in the footsteps of One Who said, "Love your enemies, do good to them that hate you"? And was not this an opportunity for putting that faith of his to the test of practice? He quickened his pace, and overtook Clapperton. The Modern senior wheeled round half-savagely. "Clapperton," said the captain, "we've been enemies all this term. I've thought harshly of you, and you've thought harshly of me. Why shouldn't we be friends?" "What!" almost growled Clapperton; "are you making a fool of me?" "No--but we've tried hating one another long enough. Let's try being friends for a change." They stood facing one another; the one serene, honest, inviting; the other dejected and doubting. But as their eyes met the fires kindled again in Clapperton's face, and the cloud swept off his brow. He pulled his hand from his pocket and held it out. "Done with you, Yorke. You're the last fellow in Fellsgarth I expected to call friend just now." CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. THE VOYAGE OF THE COCK-HOUSE. Yorke was roused before daybreak next morning by a voice at his bedside. "Is that you, Yorke?" The voice was Mr Stratton's. The captain bounded to his feet at once. "What is it, sir? Has he been found?"