"No, sir! Never touch the boys' shoes. George is the only person who looks after them; and he only cleans black boots and shoes."
"Oh, well, then, Ferguson, you'd better come with me, and we will make a search for them."
Ferguson cursed inwardly. This would mean at least half-an-hour wasted; and he could so easily have found another pair. The School House changing-room is a noble affair. It is about seventy feet long and sixty wide. All round it run small partitioned-off benches; in the middle are stands for corps clothes. At one end there is what was once a piano. Laboriously the Chief and Ferguson hunted round the room. In the far corner there was an airing cupboard. It was a great sight to see Ferguson climb up on the top of this. He was not a gymnast, and he took some time doing it. Hunter sat changing at one end of the room, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Down the passage a loud, tuneless voice began to sing Who were You with Last Night? and Mansell rolled in. He saw the Chief, and stopped suddenly, going over to Hunter.
"What does the old idiot want?"
"He's hunting for Ferguson's tennis shoes."
"Good Lord! and I've got them on."
"Well, get them off, then, quick."
In a second, while the Chief was looking the other way, Mansell stole across to the middle of the room and laid them on the top of the hot-water pipes.
About two minutes later Ferguson burst out: