"Very well, old fellow," replied East, evidently pleased; "no more shall I—they'll be here for us directly."
The room was a great big one with a dozen beds in it, but not a boy that Tom could see, except East and himself. East pulled off his coat and waistcoat, and then sat on the bottom of his bed whistling and pulling off his boots; Tom followed his example.
A noise and steps are heard in the passage, the door opens, and in rush four or five great fifth-form boys, headed by Flashman in his glory. Tom and East slept in the further corner of the room, and were not seen at first.
"Gone to ground, eh?" roared Flashman; "push 'em out then, boys! look under the beds:" and he pulled up the little white curtain of the one nearest him. "Who-o-op," he roared, pulling away at the leg of a small boy, who held on tight to the leg of the bed, and sung out lustily for mercy.
"Here, lend a hand, one of you, and help me pull out this young howling brute. Hold your tongue, sir, or 111 kill you."
"Oh, please, Flashman, please, Walker, don't toss me! Ill fag for you. I'll do anything, only don't toss me."
"You be hanged," said Flashman, lugging the wretched boy along, "'twon't hurt you, you! Come along, boys, here he is."
"I say, Flashey," sung out another of the big boys, "drop that; you heard what old Pater Brooke said to-night, I'll be hanged if we'll toss any one against his will—no more bullying. Let him go, I say."
Flashman, with an oath and a kick, released his prey, who rushed headlong under his bed again, for
