"The fives-courts, sir! I thought I saw something moving behind the back-wall!"
All eyes flew to the fives-courts at the opposite end of the quad; the back-wall, their unorthodox peculiarity as Eton courts, would have sheltered a band of robbers until the last moment, when their pursuers peeping over might be shot down comfortably at arm's length. No better bulwark against carving-knives and battle-axes, no finer mask for a whole battery of small-arms; and yet the valiant Spook was for advancing single-footed, under that treacherous moon, upon this impregnable position. Sprawson would not hear of it; together, said Sprawson, or not at all, even if he got expelled for lifting his hand against a master. The master shook it melodramatically instead, and with a somewhat painful gait the pair started off across the stretch of moonlit gravel. Jan was the next to follow, with his jug; but all the small dormitory, being more or less armed, were to the fore in an advance which became all but universal before the leaders reached the rampart. Cave major alone had the wit to stay behind, a majestic rearguard with his hands in his dressing-gown pockets, and something suspiciously like a cigarette between his lips.
The courts were discovered empty at a glance; yet Sprawson seized Jan's jug, and dashed it to fragments against the buttress in the outer court while the Spook was busy peering into the inner.
"I thought I saw something move behind the pepper-box," explained Sprawson. "Very sorry, sir! I'll buy a new one. I'm ashamed of showing such bad nerve."
"Bad nerve! You're a hero, Sprawson. I'll pay for it myself," the Spook was saying, kindly enough, when a piercing "Yoicks!" rang out from the deserted end of the quad.
