humble scheme of existence—may have a word to say on the matter. Life, for the young at least, is not all weapons and munitions of war. Education is incidentally one of our aims.'
'What a consistent pig he is,' cooed M'Turk, when they were out of earshot. 'One always knows where to have him. Did you see how he rose to that draw about the Head and special privileges?'
'Confound him, he might have had the decency to have backed the scheme. I could do such a lovely ballad, rottin' it; and now I'll have to be a giddy enthusiast. It don't bar our pulling Stalky's leg in the study, does it?'
'Oh no; but in the Coll. we must be pro-cadet-corps like anything. Can't you make up a giddy epigram, à la Catullus, about King objectin' to it?' Beetle was at this noble task when Stalky returned all hot from his first drill.
'Hullo, my ramrod-bunger!' began M'Turk. 'Where's your dead dog? Is it Defence or Defiance?'
'Defiance,' said Stalky, and leaped on him at that word. 'Look here, Turkey, you mustn't rot the corps. We've arranged it beautifully. Foxy swears he won't take us out into the open till we want to go.'
'Dis-gustin' exhibition of immature infants apin' the idiosyncrasies of their elders. Snff!'
'Have you drawn King, Beetle?' Stalky asked in a pause of the scuffle.
'Not exactly; but that's his genial style.'
'Well, listen to your Uncle Stalky—who is a Great Man. Moreover and subsequently, Foxy's
