The problem had evidently haunted him ever since I had told him that my uncle had fallen from one. “Well, what do you think?” says I. “I dunno,” he answered carelessly. “Thought, maybe, ’twas one o’ them things that shoots the malt refuge out of brewhouses.” I sniggered with laughter. Fancy Uncle Jenico having been shot out of a brewery! “It’s an umbrella,” I said; “a thing that you jump into the air with off a cliff, and come down without hurting yourself.” “Mighty!” he cried, all excitement. “Is it reelly? Let’s make one--and try it first on that Derrick,” he added, with commendable foresight. My heart crowed at the idea. We discussed it for many minutes. In the midst we heard a sound of distant jeering, and cautiously raised our heads above the snow rampart. The whole body of our enemies was in full retreat, and already nearing the top of the Gap. We were left alone, sole inseparable masters of the field. It was the happiest omen of what was to be. CHAPTER XI. MISCHIEF OF SORTS. I came in all glowing to Mr. Sant, who greeted my good news with a sigh of such relief that one could have thought a nightmare had rolled off his chest. “We have him,” he said gleefully. “You did very well, Dick; better than I could have told you. And now--h’m!” He fell into a fit of abstraction, the fruits of which did not appear till the following day. Then, as I was leaving him after lessons, he detained me a moment. “Are you going to meet him?” he asked. “Yes, if he will,” I answered. “Then,” he said, “tell him that if he likes, and can obtain his mother’s consent, he can come here with you for the future instead of going to school.” I could only breathe a great round “O!” of rapture. “Yes,” said Mr. Sant, between relish and severity; “I cannot have so promising a spirit warped by a sense of injustice. He has grit--I must put my foot down--he--yes, tell him I will undertake his education, if he is willing.” I ran off, big with the delight of my mission; and, sure enough, met Harry loitering near the Playstow by the way I should come, though he would not let me suppose it was intentional. His freckled face flushed as he spied me, and he grinned. There was already observable towards him an attitude of increased respect on the part of some of his schoolfellows who played near. “Mighty!” he exclaimed, as I accosted him, “Who’d ever a-thought o’ meeting _you_ here!” “Harry!” I whispered, too eager to get him away to feel any embarrassment. “Come with me. I’ve got something to tell you.” He came, looking both pleased and curious, but still with a certain half-defiant swagger. “Tell away,” he said; “I’m listening;” and he began to whistle. “Mr. Sant,” I said, “wants you to chuck up the old school and come and be his pupil with me, if you and your mother’s willing.” He was fairly hipped. He stopped whistling, and rubbed his round nose till it shone; then suddenly halted, in a quiet place, and stared at me.