“Twenty minutes to supper: we can just make it,” exclaimed Kit, looking at his watch. “Heave ahead, my hearties, and let’s run for it.”
And run they did, at breakneck speed along the mazy paths, through the tangled undergrowth, over the slippery crags, across the frozen marsh. Kit, the imprudent, was impudently singing at the top of his shrill voice the verses of one of the School songs.
“Out of the briny east,
Out of the frosty north,
Over the school-topp’d hill,
Whistle the shrill winds forth.
“Over the waves a-quiver,
Over the salt sedge grass,
Over the beaches tawny,
The bright wind spirits pass.”
And the other two boys took up the ringing refrain,
“Grapple them e’er they go,
Grapple them e’er they go.”
Luck was with them. They reached the school as the great bell in the Chapel struck six. Five minutes later, after a hasty wash and brush-up in their rooms, they were in the great library, shaking hands with the Doctor and Mrs. Forester and with masters and boys.
The three, more closely united than ever by their sense of sharing a dangerous secret, kept together during chapel, and directly after were for making off to Jimmie’s room, when Sandy Maclaren, looking wonderfully handsome and “swagger” in his town clothes, laid a heavy hand on Kit’s shoulder. “Not so fast, boy. The Doctor wants to see you instanter at the Rectory.”