As soon as Snipson and Brag had gone on leave I used to take off my coat, get a book, and creep behind my bed, which was doubled up so as to give sufficient space for me to sit there. Having arranged the curtains so as to show no indication of disturbance, I could enjoy a quiet read without the momentary fear that every footstep I heard would be that of an old cadet running to order me off to his room, or on some message.
The very first afternoon I tried this plan I found its value. I was snugly concealed when I heard some old cadet ask one of the corporals of my division if there were any neuxes there not on leave.
“Shepard is not,” said the cadet.
“All right?” replied the other. “I want to send him to the ‘Red Lion’ for some lush. Shepard!” he shouted outside my window.
I remained perfectly quiet, hoping that my concealment was secure. The cadet then came round to my room, and, opening the door, evidently looked round the room. I was quiet as a mouse, but was in great fear that I might be discovered, and if I had I should have received heavy punishment.
“He’s not here,” said the cadet; “perhaps he’s in the back yard.”
My name was again shouted, but I did not answer; so the old cadet left, and I heard him say on leaving, “I suppose he’s fagging over at the ‘Towers.’”
By this artifice I managed to escape much of the fagging on Saturday afternoons, and had several hours’ quiet, during which I could read or think as I liked. Unfortunately, however, I in a weak moment confided to another last-joined cadet the plan I practised in order to avoid being fagged on Saturdays. I told him of my plan, because he was rarely on leave, and used to lead a very hard life of it on those days. By some means or other he was found out. I believe his boots were seen protruding from the bed, as he was a very long neux, and he received a severe thrashing for not answering when called. This discovery led the old cadets who wanted a fag on Saturdays to look behind the beds for concealed last-joined, and I became a victim. It happened thus:—
An old cadet, named Lakeman, in my division wanted a fag, and having noted that I was not read out as on leave, came to my room about five o’clock on one Saturday, and called me. I remained quite quiet, hoping not to be discovered, for I had not then heard of the discovery that had been made of the last-joined behind his bed. Suddenly the curtains of my bed were pulled aside, and the foot of the bed let down, when I rolled over on the bed fully exposed to view.
“Now come to my room,” said Lakeman, “and get a licking! This is the way you shirk, is it?”