ramp. Remember, the honor of the corps depends on us. Here, let me out. You stop here, and don't bolt the door in case I come back."
Then Fawcett rose, glided out into the dim hall, and disappeared noiselessly.
Clifford remained crouching in a dark corner of the store cupboard among the jampots.
Minutes passed slowly, with leaden wings. The absolute silence oppressed him. Far away he could hear the heavy ticking of a grandfather clock. He knew where it stood—opposite the Head's drawing-room door. He wouldn’t have thought he could have heard it all that way. Still Fawcett did not return.
He heard faintly the hundred and one soft, inexplicable noises that occur in old houses at night.
At length—it seemed to him after an age—he heard stealthy footsteps descending the stairs above his head. Fawcett returning, no doubt.
But there seemed more than one—doubtless some more Scouts were with him.
Clifford peered anxiously through the glass spy-hole. Three tall fellows stood whispering together at the foot of the stairs, and he saw at a glance none of them wore the Scout's badge—in fact, they were Tupper and two of his friends.
The door of the store-room was ajar for Fawcett's return—to close it now would be to reveal himself.
The trio conversed together softly but anxiously; at length they all advanced to the door of the store-cupboard in which Clifford was hidden. The would-be Scout turned up his coat-collar, rammed his hands into his pockets, so as to show as little white as possible, and crouched lower in the dark comer. Fawcett's foresight in making him wear a coat was apparent. Tupper pulled open the door. In his hand he held a key.
"I found this in Fawcett's pocket," he said softly to his companions, "and as there was a label on it I discovered the brute's retreat."
"Are you sure you have got all the Scouts?" asked Doyle, one of his followers.
"Every man Jack tied up in our dormitory, except the door-keeper," answered Tupper gleefully. "We didn't dare tackle him, because he could call for help. Fawcett gave the most trouble."
"Having collared all the Scouts, what now?" asked the third of the band.
"To rouse old Pussy on the trail when they have no Scouts to warn them," returned the chief softly.
"It is too far a run up the staircase afterwards,” he added solemnly, as if calculating the distance, "so this will be a good retreat. Doyle will hold this door open for us while we make a real picnic of a din outside Pussy's door. Then we skip back here for shelter. The old man will get in no end of a rage at such a row, and will fly upstairs to the dormitories, and Faversham's feasters, having no Scouts left to warn them, will be nicely copped."
"Good!" agreed one of his companions, chuckling. "The Scouts can't scheme against you, Tupper."
"Come on," said the chief, "there's no time to lose. Hold the door open, Doyle, and be ready."
Scarcely had the items of this neat plan reached the ears of Clifford in his dark comer, than he felt gently for the electric wires, and pressed them together with a steady grip.
The two tall figures crept forward in the direction of the study. As Doyle stood half out in the passage, holding open the storeroom door, Clifford, with a sudden spring, gave him an irresistible push in the centre of the back which sent that gentleman spinning toward his companions. Then, swiftly, Clifford pulled the door to upon himself and shot the bolt. It was well-timed, for almost contemporaneously Tupper and his friend raised their uproar outside the study door. A second more and they were flying back to safety, only to find the store-room door shut in their faces. They tugged and strained, but the bolt held good. Then they tried the stairs, but too late. Mr. Purcell's tall form was amongst them ere they gained the bottom steps.
"Tupper, Doyle, and Wyatt! how dare you, sirs! Come in here!" exclaimed the enraged master, as he motioned them inside his study.
Two minutes later he departed upstairs to inspect the dormitories, but thanks to Clifford's timely signal Favershain and his guests were safe in their virtuous couches simulating the sleep of the just.
On the next day Clifford was enrolled a regular member of Faversham's Scouts.
MAXIMS FOR SCOUTS
A good scout is full of resource. He can find a way out of any difficulty or discomfort.
One of the chief duties of a scout is to help those in distress in any possible way that he can.
It is a disgrace to a scout if, when he is with other people, they see anything big or little, near or far, high or low, that he has not already seen for himself.
The fellow who has to turn his hand to many things, as the scout does in camp, finds that he is more easily able to obtain employment, because he is ready to turn his hand to whatever kind of work may turn up.
In the old days the missionaries were the scouts of America, and their rules were, very much the same as the scout law which we have now. We are descendants, and we ought to keep up their good name and follow in their steps.
Peace scouts can find their way anywhere; are able to read meaning from the smallest signs and foot tracks. They know how to look after their health when far away from any doctors; are strong and plucky, and ready to face any danger, and always keen to help each other.
If every boy works hard at scouting and really learns all that it teaches him, he will, at the end of it, have some claim to call himself a real man, and will find, if ever he goes on Service or to a colony, that he will have no difficulty in looking after himself and in being really useful to his country.
