With the best intentions in the world, however, a headmaster cannotmake a row about a thing unless he is given a reasonable amount oftime to make it in. The concert being on the last evening of term,there was only a single morning before the summer holidays, and thatmorning was occupied with the prize-giving. The school assembled atten o'clock with a shadowy hope that this prize-day would be moreexciting than the general run of prize-days, but they weredisappointed. The function passed off without sensation. Theheadmaster did not denounce the school in an impassioned speech fromthe dais. He did not refer to the events of the previous evening. Atthe same time, his demeanour was far from jovial. It lacked thatrollicking bonhomie which we like to see in headmasters on prize-day.

　　It was evident to the most casual observer that the affair was notclosed. The school would have to pay the bill sooner or later. Buteight weeks would elapse before the day of reckoning, which was acomforting thought.

　　The last prize was handed over to its rightful owner. The last anddullest vote of thanks had been proposed by the last and dullestmember of the board of governors. The Bishop of Rumtifoo (who had beenselected this year to distribute the prizes) had worked off hisseventy minutes' speech (inaudible, of course, as usual), and wasfeeling much easier. The term had been formally declared at an end,and those members of the school corps who were going to camp werebeginning to assemble in front of the buildings.

　　"I wonder why it always takes about three hours to get us off to thestation," said Jimmy Silver. "I've been to camp two years now, andthere's always been this rotting about in the grounds before we start.

　　Nobody's likely to turn up to inspect us for the next hour or so. Ifany gent cares to put in a modest ginger-beer at the shop, I'm withhim.""I don't see why we shouldn't," said Kennedy. He had seen Fenn go intothe shop, and wished to talk to him. He had not seen him after theconcert, and he thought it would be interesting to know how Kay hadtaken it, and what his comments had been on meeting Fenn in the housethat night.

　　Fenn had not much to say.

　　"He was rather worried," he said, grinning as if the recollection ofthe interview amused him. "But he couldn't do anything. Of course,there'll be a row next term, but it can't be helped.""If I were you," said Silver, "I should point out to them that you'd aperfect right to play what you liked for an encore. How were you toknow the gallery would go off like that? You aren't responsible forthem. Hullo, there's that bugle. Things seem to be on the move. Wemust go.""So long," said Fenn.

　　"Goodbye. Mind you come off against Middlesex."Kennedy stayed for a moment.

　　"Has the Old Man said anything to you yet?" he asked.

　　"Not yet. He'll do that next term. It'll be something to look forwardto."Kennedy hurried off to take his place in the ranks.

　　Getting to camp at the end of the summer term is always a nuisance.

　　Aldershot seems a long way from everywhere, and the trains take theirtime over the journey. Then, again, the heat always happens to beparticularly oppressive on that day. Snow may have fallen on the daybefore, but directly one sets out for camp, the thermometer goes upinto three figures. The Eckleton contingent marched into the linesdamp and very thirsty.

　　Most of the other schools were already on the spot, and looked as ifthey had been spending the last few years there. There was nothingparticular going on when the Eckleton warriors arrived, and everybodywas lounging about in khaki and shirt-sleeves, looking exasperatinglycool. The only consolation which buoyed up the spirits of Eckletonwas the reflection that in a short space of time, when theimportant-looking gentleman in uniform who had come to meet them hadsaid all he wanted to say on the subject of rules and regulations,they would be like that too. Happy thought! If the man bucked up andcut short the peroration, there would be time for a bathe in CoveReservoir. Those of the corps who had been to camp in previous yearsfelt quite limp with the joy of the thought. Why couldn't he getthrough with it, and give a fellow a chance of getting cool again?

　　The gist of the oration was apparently that the Eckleton cadets wereto consider themselves not only as soldiers--and as such subject tomilitary discipline, and the rules for the conduct of troops quarteredin the Aldershot district--but also as members of a public school. Inshort, that if they misbehaved themselves they would get cells, and ahundred lines in the same breath, as it were.

　　The corps knew all this ages ago. The man seemed to think he wastelling them something fresh. They began positively to dislike himafter a while.

　　He finished at last. Eckleton marched off wearily, but in style, toits lines.

　　"Dis-miss!"They did.

　　"And about time, too," said Jimmy Silver. "I wish they would tie thatman up, or something. He's one of the worst bores I know. He may befull of bright conversation in private life, but in public he willtalk about his beastly military regulations. You can't stop him. It'sa perfect mania with him. Now, I believe--that's to say, I have a sortof dim idea--that there's a place round about here called a canteen. Iseem to remember such a thing vaguely. We might go and look for it."Kennedy made no objection.

　　This was his first appearance at camp. Jimmy Silver, on the otherhand, was a veteran. He had been there twice before, and meant to goagain. He had a peculiar and extensive knowledge of the ins and outsof the place. Kennedy was quite willing to take him as his guide. Hewas full of information. Kennedy was surprised to see what a number ofmen from the other schools he seemed to know. In the canteen therewere, amongst others, a Carthusian, two Tonbridge men, and aHaileyburian. They all greeted Silver with the warmth of old friends.

　　"You get to know a lot of fellows in camp," explained Jimmy, as theystrolled back to the Eckleton lines. "That's the best of the place.

　　Camp's the best place on earth, if only you have decent weather. Seethat chap over there? He came here last year. He'd never been before,and one of the things he didn't know was that Cove Reservoir's onlyabout three feet deep round the sides. He took a running dive, andalmost buried himself in the mud. It's about two feet deep. He told meafterwards he swallowed pounds of it. Rather bad luck. Somebody oughtto have told him. You can't do much diving here.""Glad you mentioned it," said Kennedy. "I should have dived myself ifyou hadn't."Many other curious and diverting facts did the expert drag from thebonded warehouse of his knowledge. Nothing changes at camp. Once getto know the ropes, and you know them for all time.

　　"The one thing I bar," he said, "is having to get up at half-pastfive. And one day in the week, when there's a divisional field-day,it's half-past four. It's hardly worth while going to sleep at all.

　　Still, it isn't so bad as it used to be. The first year I came to campwe used to have to do a three hours' field-day before brekker. We usedto have coffee before it, and nothing else till it was over. By Jove,you felt you'd had enough of it before you got back. This is Laffan'sPlain. The worst of Laffan's Plain is that you get to know it toowell. You get jolly sick of always starting on field-days from thesame place, and marching across the same bit of ground. Still, Isuppose they can't alter the scenery for our benefit. See that manthere? He won the sabres at Aldershot last year. That chap with him isin the Clifton footer team."When a school corps goes to camp, it lives in a number of tents, and,as a rule, each house collects in a tent of its own. Blackburn's had atent, and further down the line Kay's had assembled. The Kaycontingent were under Wayburn, a good sort, as far as he himself wasconcerned, but too weak to handle a mob like Kay's. Wayburn was notcoming back after the holidays, a fact which perhaps still furtherweakened his hold on the Kayites. They had nothing to fear from himnext term.

　　Kay's was represented at camp by a dozen or so of its members, of whomyoung Billy Silver alone had any pretensions to the esteem of hisfellow man. Kay's was the rowdiest house in the school, and the creamof its rowdy members had come to camp. There was Walton, for one, aperfect specimen of the public school man at his worst. There wasMortimer, another of Kay's gems. Perry, again, and Callingham, and therest. A pleasant gang, fit for anything, if it could be done insafety.

　　Kennedy observed them, and--the spectacle starting a train ofthought--asked Jimmy Silver, as they went into their tent just beforelights-out, if there was much ragging in camp.

　　"Not very much," said the expert. "Chaps are generally too done up atthe end of the day to want to do anything except sleep. Still, I'veknown cases. You sometimes get one tent mobbing another. They loosethe ropes, you know. Low trick, I think. It isn't often done, and itgets dropped on like bricks when it's found out. But why? Do you feelas if you wanted to do it?""It only occurred to me that we've got a lively gang from Kay's here.

　　I was wondering if they'd get any chances of ragging, or if they'dhave to lie low.""I'd forgotten Kay's for the moment. Now you mention it, they arerather a crew. But I shouldn't think they'd find it worth while to rotabout here. It isn't as if they were on their native heath. Peoplehave a prejudice against having their tent-ropes loosed, and they'dget beans if they did anything in that line. I remember once there wasa tent which made itself objectionable, and it got raided in the nightby a sort of vigilance committee from the other schools, and the chapsin it got the dickens of a time. None of them ever came to camp again.

　　I hope Kay's'll try and behave decently. It'll be an effort for them;but I hope they'll make it. It would be an awful nuisance if youngBilly made an ass of himself in any way. He loves making an ass ofhimself. It's a sort of hobby of his."As if to support the statement, a sudden volley of subdued shouts camefrom the other end of the Eckleton lines.

　　"Go it, Wren!""Stick to it, Silver!""Wren!""Silver!""S-s-h!"Silence, followed almost immediately by a gruff voice inquiring withsimple directness what the dickens all this noise was about.

　　"Hullo!" said Kennedy. "Did you hear that? I wonder what's been up?

　　Your brother was in it, whatever it was.""Of course," said Jimmy Silver, "he would be. We can't find out aboutit now, though. I'll ask him tomorrow, if I remember. I shan'tremember, of course. Good night.""Good night."Half an hour later, Kennedy, who had been ruminating over the incidentin his usual painstaking way, reopened the debate.

　　"Who's Wren?" he asked.

　　"Wha'?" murmured Silver, sleepily.

　　"Who's Wren?" repeated Kennedy.

　　"I d'know.... Oh.... Li'l' beast.... Kay's.... Red hair.... G'-ni'."And sleep reigned in Blackburn's tent.