'I—I don't know. Oh, let me off! I swear I'll make it pax. Don't "rock" me!'
'"The bleatin' of the kid excites the tiger." He says he don't know. Set him up, Beetle. Give me the glove an' put in the gag.'
In silence Campbell was 'rocked' sixty-four times.
'I believe I'm goin' to die!' he gasped.
'He says he is goin' to die. Put him away. Now, Sefton! Oh, I forgot! Sefton, what did you bully Clewer for?'
The answer is unprintable; but it brought not the faintest flush to Stalky's downy cheek.
'Make him an Ag Ag, Turkey!'
And an Ag Ag was he made, forthwith. The hard-bought experience of nearly eighteen years was at his disposal, but he did not seem to appreciate it.
'He says we are sweeps. Put him away! Now, Campbell! Oh, I forgot! I say, Campbell, what did you bully Clewer for?'
Then came the tears—scalding tears; appeals for mercy and abject promises of peace. Let them cease the tortures and Campbell would never lift hand against them. The questions began again—to an accompaniment of keen persuasions.
'You seem hurt, Campbell. Are you hurt?'
'Yes. Awfully!'
'He says he is hurt. Are you broke?'
'Yes, yes! I swear I am. Oh, stop!'
'He says he is broke. Are you humble?'
'Yes!'
'He says he is humble. Are you devilish humble?'
