With astounding industry we worked away that morning, widening and deepening the little channel along which the rivulet made its way to the pond. And before we had done we had the satisfaction of seeing a fairly brisk inflow. We would fain have waited to see the fatal little island disappear below the surface. But the first bell was already an sounding when the water completed the circle, leaving it standing up more prominent than ever.
To our horror, at this precise moment Tempest strolled down.
“Hullo! what are you two after? Fishing? One way to catch them, letting all the water out.”
“It was an experiment,” said Dicky, who, like myself, was very pale as he looked first at the Dux, then at the guilty hillock in the pond.
“So it seems. In other words, you’re making a jolly mess, and are enjoying yourselves. I hope you’ll enjoy it equally, both of you, when Plummer sees what you’ve done.”
“Shall you tell him?” I asked, somewhat breathlessly. The Dux laughed scornfully.
“You deserve a hiding for asking such a thing. Come here! Jump out on to that little island there, and stay there till I tell you.”
“Oh, Dux, please not,” said I, in a tone of terror, which was quite out of proportion to the penalty. The pistol was only two inches below the surface!
“Do you hear? Look sharp, or I’ll chuck you there.”
That might be worse. It might hurt me and cut up the soil. So I jumped gingerly out, and stood poised with a foot in the water on either side, dreading at any moment to see the stones slip and the tell-tale gleam of the buried weapon.