"FIRST RAWLINGS THEN TRENDALL WERE TOSSED OUT INTO A DENSE MASS OF BUSHES."
"Quick! Pull it off him," commanded Susanne, seemingly as cool as a cucumber. "Now, all together. Ah! He's killed."
"Killed?" It was Rawlings who asked the question, his lips bloodless, his knees almost knocking. "Killed? Then—then what happens? Do we have to appear?"
It was like him to think first of himself, and not of the unfortunate man. But the question he had asked was one which was bound to be asked. It was one which intimately concerned one and all of the boys of Ranleigh who had broken bounds. They turned from the body of the man to one another.
"I'm awfully sorry for that poor chap," said Susanne at last. "As for us, we're in for it, eh?"
"Absolutely," agreed Masters. "Right in the soup."
"Unless——" began Rawlings.
"Unless what?" asked Clive curtly.
"Unless we can get out of the mess by——"
"Telling lies?" asked Hugh, backing Clive up swiftly.
Rawlings nodded ever so little.
"Thanks, Rawlings," said Susanne coldly. "You and Trendall do as you like. We'll be getting onward."