“And now,” said Bates, “this little party is entirely composed of pleasant people. Let us introduce each of us to the other; fellows, step up. Don’t be afraid—light isn’t strong enough to show your faces very well. Colonel—Ralph Chickers, sometimes known as ‘Chickens’; Ben Drayton; Tom Allen—he’s only done one sensible thing in his life—entered Thornton Preparatory School; here’s Sam Wilde, and, last and least, Ban Twining.”
“Like fun,” came from the owner of that name.
“Of course I do,” said Bates.
Jack Lyons and Joe Preston entered into the jolly spirit of the students; but Colonel Ellison, like an avenging nemesis, kept aloof, his tall, gaunt figure moving almost silently up and down the bank, stopping only now and then to listen intently to any suspicious sounds which came from the woods.
Bates seemed astonished to learn that Norman Redfern was a graduate of Ripley.
“H’m,” he sniffed. “I can tell by your voice that you hate to admit it. Why, we’re kind of looking after a lot of foolish Ripley chaps now. Guess at this very minute they must be doing the babes in the woods act. What’s that?”
A voice came floating over the silent air; its tone of anguish and utter despair made them look at each other in alarm.
“Monsieur the Colonel, monsieur the Colonel, it’s gone!”
“Gone!” cried Colonel Ellison, with a start. “What does the man mean?”
“Looks like another circus coming,” grinned Bates, in delight.