“Look here, you stick to volunteerin’, and don’t jog the table.”
“He won’t have anything to take hold of,” said Stalky, with dark significance.
They did not know what that meant till, a few days later, they proposed to watch the corps at drill. They found the gymnasium door locked and a fag on guard. “This is sweet cheek,” said McTurk, stooping.
“Mustn’t look through the key-hole,” said the sentry.
“I like that. Why, Wake, you little beast, I made you a volunteer.”
“Can’t help it. My orders are not to allow any one to look.”
“S’pose we do?” said McTurk. “S’pose we jolly well slay you?”
“My orders are, I am to give the name of anybody who interfered with me on my post, to the corps, an’ they’d deal with him after drill, accordin’ to martial law.”
“What a brute Stalky is!” said Beetle. They never doubted for a moment who had devised that scheme.
“You esteem yourself a giddy centurion, don’t you?” said Beetle, listening to the crash and rattle of grounded arms within.