A noise and steps are heard in the passage, the door opens, and in rush four or five great fifth-form boys, headed by Flashman in his glory.
Tom and East slept in the further corner of the room, and were not seen at first.
"Gone to ground, eh?" roared Flashman; "push 'em out then, boys! look under the beds;" and he pulled up the little white curtain of the one nearest him. "Who-o-op," he roared, pulling away at the leg of a small boy, who held on tight to the leg of the bed, and sung out lustily for mercy.
"Here, lend a hand, one of you, and help me pull out this young howling brute. Hold your tongue, sir, or I'll kill you!"
"Oh, please, Flashman, please, Walker, don't toss me! I'll fag for you, I'll do anything, only don't toss me."
"You be hanged," said Flashman, lugging the wretched boy along, "'twon't hurt you,——you! Come along! boys, here he is."
"I say Flashey," sung out another one of the big boys, "drop that; you heard what old Pater Brooke said to-night. I'll be hanged if we'll toss any one against his will—no more bullying. Let him go, I say."
Flashman, with an oath and a kick, released his prey, who rushed headlong under his bed again, for fear they should change their minds, and crept along underneath the other beds, till he got under that of the sixth-form boy, which he knew they daren't disturb.
EAST AND TOM DEVOTE THEMSELVES.
"There's plenty of youngsters don't care about it," said Walker. "Here, here's Scud East—you'll be tossed, won't you, young un?" Scud was East's nickname, or "black," as we called it, gained by his fleetness of foot.