“Are you any good at playing Red Indians?” asked Guggle sternly.
“Rather,” said Anthony. “You should hear the noise I make when I’m being scalped. Like this.” He illustrated.
“Not so bad,” said Winkle grudgingly. “Now do the scalper’s yell.”
Anthony obliged with a blood-curdling noise. In another minute the game of Red Indians was in full swing.
About an hour later, Anthony wiped his forehead, and ventured to inquire after Mademoiselle’s migraine. He was pleased to hear that that lady had entirely recovered. So popular had he become that he was urgently invited to come and have tea in the schoolroom.
“And then you can tell us about the man you saw hung,” urged Guggle.
“Did you say you’d got a bit of the rope with you?” asked Winkle.
“It’s in my suit-case,” said Anthony solemnly. “You shall each have a piece of it.”
Winkle immediately let out a Wild Indian yell of satisfaction.
“We’ll have to go and get washed, I suppose,” said Guggle gloomily. “You will come to tea, won’t you? You won’t forget?”