There was a big boulder just ahead, poised almost miraculously on its edge, on the sloping hill-side. It looked as if a moderate blast of wind would send it headlong to the bottom. But it had stood there for centuries, a shelter for sheep in winter from the snow and hail.
What made Rollitt bound now in the direction of this rock, like a man shot? Surely not to admire a natural curiosity, or to seek shelter under its wing.
No. He had found that his quest after all had not been in vain. There, curled up under the overhanging rock, lying one almost across the other for warmth, with cheek touching cheek, and Ashby’s coat covering both, were Fisher minor and his chum—not dead, but sleeping soundly!
Chapter Nineteen.
Corder strikes a Blow for Liberty.
The absence of the juniors had excited no curiosity in either house till evening. It was a holiday, and though the rule was that even on a holiday no boy should go “out of touch,” as it was called, that is, beyond a certain radius, without permission, it was not always enforced. The Modern seniors had every reason to guess the object of this prolonged absence. They had promised many things to the juniors when they caught them. It was not surprising, while things were as warm as they were, that the young rebels should give Fellsgarth a wide berth.
As to the Classic juniors, no one was surprised at anything they did, in reason.
But when “call-over” came and all nine names were returned absent (in addition to that of Rollitt and a few other habitual vagrants), fellows began to ask where they were.