“Some of the stuff my father uses for bruises. I bought some—leastwise I got Lom to buy some for me at the chemist’s when he went into the town.”
“What is it?” I said carelessly, for I did not feel eager to know.
“Arnica. It’s in a bottle, and you soak rags in it, and—”
“Here they are,” greeted us in chorus, and we were literally taken into custody by about a dozen boys, who hurried us round to the back, where Burr major, Dicksee, Hodson, Stewart, and three more were waiting like so many conspirators.
I may as well own to it; my heart sank, and I felt as if I were going out to execution, or at the least to be severely punished, for Burr major was laughing and chatting to the boys about him, and turned sneeringly to us as we came up.
“Oh, here they are, then,” he cried contemptuously. “Bring them up, boys;” and he turned off, entered the old stable, and went up the worn steps into the loft, while we were dragged and pushed unnecessarily till we were up at the top, to find Burr major seated on the big bin, swinging one leg about carelessly—acting as if he were judge and we were two criminals brought up before him.
“Two of you keep the lower door and give notice if any one’s coming,” said Burr major sharply.
“Oh,” cried one of the boys, “don’t send us down, please. We shan’t see none of the fun.”
Nice fun for us, I thought, and then wondered whether it would hurt much.
“All right, then,” cried Burr major. “I don’t want to be hard. You can keep a look-out from the window.” Then, turning sharply,—