"It was all right yesterday afternoon," said Caggles, with an expression of disgust on his face.
"Some one must have done it in the night," said Crieff; "I believe it's one of those village kids I thrashed last week for throwing stones."
"Very likely," said Caggles; "they'll do anything for spite."
"They used our spade, too," continued Crieff; "the one out of the shed. The lock of the door has been useless for some time, you know. They must have gone in and taken out the spade; I found it lying on the ground."
The inmates of the dormitory stood aghast. A grand match between themselves and a neighboring school had been fixed for this coming Saturday. Under the peculiar circumstances this, of course, would have to be postponed.
Hastily finishing their toilet, the boys accompanied Crieff to the tennis-ground, where they saw that his account was only too true. The ground was dug up in a dozen places.
Exclamations of rage rose from the fast-increasing crowd of boys, and energetic discussions were entered upon, until quite a confusing uproar prevailed.
"Whoever it was," said Caggles, almost bursting with wrath, "they ought to be kicked."
"I say, Crieff," said Bottlebury, "do you think they'll come again?"
"I don't think so," was the answer; "still, they may. I'm just trying to think of a way to catch the scoundrels."