The performance had just commenced, and though the display was by no means brilliant, yet the boys enjoyed it, and soon forgot the existence of everything except clowns, acrobats, and trained horses.
"I say!" exclaimed Rosher suddenly, "d'you know what the time is? It's close on nine o'clock!"
"By jingo!" answered Jack, "we must do a bolt."
"No, don't go," interposed Raymond; "you can't get back in time now, so you may as well stay and see the end. If you'll come round by my lodgings, I'll get my guv'nor to write a letter of excuse."
"I don't want any more of your letters," murmured Jack, "it's too risky. We'd better hook it."
"No, stay; you can't get back in time now, so what's the good of losing part of the performance?"
After some further discussion, Jack and Rosher decided to remain, and so kept their seats until the end of the performance. It was quite dark when they emerged from the tent, and every part of the fair was lit up with flaring paraffin lamps. They had not gone very far when, as ill-luck would have it, a shrill cry of "Hallo! Thatches!" showed that they had been sighted by some small scout of the enemy.
"I've got some coppers left," said Rosher; "let's have a shot at the cocoa-nuts."
They stopped opposite a pitch, and began bowling at the fruit. The first two or three shies were unsuccessful; then Jack knocked down a nut.
"I'm not going to let you beat me!" cried Rosher. "Here; mister, give me some more balls."