'Bother it, Saddlebank, you'll make Catman hear you,' said Temple, wiping his forehead.
I perspired coldly.
'Catman! He's been at it for the last hour and a half,' Saddlebank replied.
One boy ran up: he was ready, and the only one who was. Presently
Chaunter rushed by.
'Barnshed 's in custody; I'm away home,' he said, passing.
We stared at the black opening of the dell.
'Oh, it's Catman; we don't mind him,' Saddlebank reassured us; but we heard ominous voices, and perceived people standing over a prostrate figure. Then we heard a voice too well known to us. It said, 'The explanation of a pupil in your charge, Mr. Catman, being sent barefaced into the town—a scholar of mine-for sage and onions . . .'
'Old Rippenger!' breathed Temple.
We sat paralyzed. Now we understood the folly of despatching a donkey like Barnshed for sage and onions.
'Oh, what asses we have been!' Temple continued. 'Come along-we run for it! Come along, Richie! They 're picking up the fellows like windfalls.'