my hat! The gasped Bob Cherry. “Oh, Head!” Dr. Locke had observed the uproar, and arrived to inquire the cause. The Bounder was dropped as suddenly as if he had become red hot! He lay sprawling, almost at the feet, panting for breath. The juniors headmaster’s stood round him, blinking at the Head—Remove and Fourth and Shell. does this demanded the Head. “What—what mean?” “Hem!” what—“— “Hobson, a ragging, stammered Hobby. “It—it—it’s sir!” “Vernon-Smith!” The Bounder staggered to his feet. The Head, looked at him—long and hard Then he looked round at the flushed and uneasy faces of the juniors. Probably it did not take the headmaster long to put two and two together. He had had to let the Bounder off, on insufficient evidence; but it was fairly cIear that the Lower School of Greyfriars considered the evidence sufficient. Nobody intended to tell the Head anything: but he did not need telling. There was a long pause— and then Dr. Locke spoke, in quiet tones: there be no more of “Let this!” said Hobson meekly. “Very well, sir!” hear me, “You Wharton!” “Yes, sir!” The Head rustled away. The Bounder, panting, glared defiance at the crowd of juniors. They gave him grim looks—but no hand was laid on him again as he swung away. The ragging was over! * * * * * say, you “I fellows!” Billy Bunter come scuttling out of the house ten minutes later. say, washed yelled Bunter. “1 it’s out!” is, growled Cherry. “What fathead?” a notice on the board, cancelling squeaked the “The gating! There’s it!” Owl of the Remove, my “Oh, hat!” There was a rush to see the new paper on the board. It was true: the of the Lower School was cancelled. The Head. evidently, had lost “gating” no time. Bob Cherry whistled. means that the Beak he said. knows it was Smithy— “That knows!” “No
“Oh, my hat! The Head!” gasped Bob Cherry. Dr. Locke had observed the uproar, and arrived to inquire the cause. The Bounder was dropped as suddenly as if he had become red hot! He lay sprawling, almost at the headmaster’s feet, panting for breath. The juniors stood round him, blinking at the Head—Remove and Fourth and Shell. “What—what does this mean?” demanded the Head. “Hem!” “Hobson, what—“— “It—it—it’s a ragging, sir!” stammered Hobby. “Vernon-Smith!” The Bounder staggered to his feet. The Head, looked at him—long and hard Then he looked round at the flushed and uneasy faces of the juniors. Probably it did not take the headmaster long to put two and two together. He had had to let the Bounder off, on insufficient evidence; but it was fairly cIear that the Lower School of Greyfriars considered the evidence sufficient. Nobody intended to tell the Head anything: but he did not need telling. There was a long pause— and then Dr. Locke spoke, in quiet tones: “Let there be no more of this!” “Very well, sir!” said Hobson meekly. “You hear me, Wharton!” “Yes, sir!” The Head rustled away. The Bounder, panting, glared defiance at the crowd of juniors. They gave him grim looks—but no hand was laid on him again as he swung away. The ragging was over! * * * * * “I say, you fellows!” Billy Bunter come scuttling out of the house ten minutes later. “1 say, it’s washed out!” yelled Bunter. “What is, fathead?” growled Cherry. “The gating! There’s a notice on the board, cancelling it!” squeaked the Owl of the Remove, “Oh, my hat!” There was a rush to see the new paper on the board. It was true: the “gating” of the Lower School was cancelled. The Head. evidently, had lost no time. Bob Cherry whistled. “That means that the Beak knows!” he said. “No knows it was Smithy—