Boarding schools -- England -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Fiction; Students -- Juvenile fiction
I routed up Dicky, and very quietly we dressed and slipped out. I knew
that my early rising, if it were discovered, would probably be set down
to my zeal for discharging impositions. But even they must wait now
till we were sure about the pond.
For Dicky and I stood liable to as big a row as the assassin of Hector
himself if anything went wrong with our experiment in engineering.
Luckily very few fellows haunted this particularly muddy corner of the
grounds, and now that Hector was above a daily bath, there was little
chance of Plummer himself discovering the remarkably low tide on his
premises--still less of his poking about among the stones in the bed of
the pool.
To our great relief we found that our dam at the foot was holding out
bravely, and that comparatively little water was trickling through the
bank into the shrubbery. The flow at the upper end, however, was
distressingly small, and though a whole night had passed we could still
see the heap of stones under which the pistol was buried rising up from
the shallow puddles around it, inviting investigation.
With astounding industry we worked away that morning, widening and
deepening the little channel along which the rivulet made its way to the
pond. And before we had done we had the satisfaction of seeing a fairly
brisk inflow. We would fain have waited to see the fatal little island
disappear below the surface. But the first bell was already an sounding
when the water completed the circle, leaving it standing up more
prominent than ever.
To our horror, at this precise moment Tempest strolled down.
"Hullo! what are you two after? Fishing? One way to catch them,
letting all the water out."
"It was an experiment," said Dicky, who, like myself, was very pale as
he looked first at the Dux, then at the guilty hillock in the pond.
"So it seems. In other words, you're making a jolly mess, and are
enjoying yourselves. I hope you'll enjoy it equally, both of you, when
Plummer sees what you've done."
"Shall you tell him?" I asked, somewhat breathlessly. The Dux laughed
scornfully.
"You deserve a hiding for asking such a thing. Come here! Jump out on
to that little island there, and stay there till I tell you."
"Oh, Dux, please not," said I, in a tone of terror, which was quite out
of proportion to the penalty. The pistol was only two inches below the
surface!
"Do you hear? Look sharp, or I'll chuck you there."
That might be worse. It might hurt me and cut up the soil. So I jumped
gingerly out, and stood poised with a foot in the water on either side,
dreading at any moment to see the stones slip and the tell-tale gleam of
the buried weapon.
"If you don't stand properly," said the Dux, "I'll make you sit down.
Come along, young Brown, it's time we went up to school."
"How long am I to stay, please?" I inquired.
"Till you're in water up to the knees," said the Dux, as he turned away,
with the faithless Dicky beside him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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