"Beetles of the Mystic Band,Wind we round thee hand in hand,"
"Beetles of the Mystic Band,Wind we round thee hand in hand,"
and so on.
"No, we're not going to send Stan to the Realms of Creepy-Crawley," smiled Connie, putting her arm through her cousin's with an air of possession as Harry ended:
"We don't mind Mr. Plunger going there. He'd be quite at home; but not Stan."
Stanley smiled, but soon relapsed into his former gravity.
"A penny for your thoughts, Stan!" said Mrs. Moncrief.
"Oh, I was only thinking of one of the Beetles—Wyndham. I was wondering whether we should see anything of him during the vac."
"Would you like to meet him?" asked Mr. Moncrief.
"Very much."
Paul said nothing; but he felt a keen sense of gratification at the words that fell from Stanley. It showed that all animosity towards Wyndham had completely vanished, and that he was anxious to meet him again, not as an enemy, but on a footing of friendship.
Mr. Moncrief was absent for a good part of the next day. On the day following he announced that he was going to take them for a drive in the wagonette. They were, of course, anxious to know where.
"Well, Harry has asked me once or twice whether we couldn't travel over some of the ground over which Paul travelled on the night when he broke in upon us here at the end of his last vacation. I think this is the most favourable opportunity we shall have to carry out his suggestion, if you're all agreeable."
Of course they were agreeable. So, early the next morning, the wagonette came to the door, and the little party, in the best of spirits, started on the drive.
No contrast could have been greater than the contrast between that morning of bright sunshine and the night when Paul started from Redmead with Mr. Moncrief. On that never-to-be-forgotten night danger seemed to be lurking in every hedgerow. The shadows lay thickly across their pathway, and the sight of home had never been so dear to Paul as when he at length came in sight of it that night. How different it all seemed in the bright sunshine!
By an indirect route they came to the common over which Paul had ridden on Falcon. They stopped at the spot where Zuker and his confederate had seized Falcon's bridle. Then they turned back, and paused once more where the brave horse had staggered and fallen. Paul had not seen the place since, and as they reached it, he lived once again through the incidents of those few terrible moments when the life-blood of Falcon was slowly oozing away. He could see it lying there; he could see the crimson stream running from its flank, the look of pathos in its eyes as it turned to him.
"I think we will drive on," said Mr. Moncrief gently. "We owe a good deal to Falcon, so I mean to have a little memorial to his memory some day—to the memory of a noble horse. There are some animals, it seems to me, who are as much entitled to it as human beings."
A great surprise was in store for them when they reached the well down which Paul had hidden from his pursuers. Wyndham was standing there, just as he had stood on the night when he had covered Paul's retreat!
Then it turned out that Mr. Moncrief had arranged this little surprise on the previous day; that he had visited Wyndham, and appointed to meet him at the well. To the delight of the boys, the arrangement went still further—Wyndham was to return with them, and spend a few days at Redmead.
Stanley was one of the first to give him a hearty greeting.
"You must be my friend as well as Paul's," he said earnestly, as he shook him by the hand.
"There's no one, I suppose, who would like to repeat Paul's experience in the well?" smiled Mr. Moncrief, when the excitement of the meeting had cooled down.
The invitation, it is unnecessary to say, was "declined with thanks."
The happy party returned to Redmead. When the evening came on, the blinds drawn, the lamps lit, and the friends were all together, Paul could not help thinking there was just one thing missing to complete the day's experience.
"When I came here that night and listened at the door, you were singing," he said.
"Singing what?" asked Mrs. Moncrief.
"'Now the day is over.'"
"Happy thought! Let us have it again!" exclaimed Mr. Moncrief.
Mrs. Moncrief went to the piano, and heartily they sang:
"Now the day is over,Night is drawing nigh,Shadows of the eveningSteal across the sky.Through the long night watches,May Thine angels spreadTheir white wings above me,Watching round my bed."
"Now the day is over,Night is drawing nigh,Shadows of the eveningSteal across the sky.
Through the long night watches,May Thine angels spreadTheir white wings above me,Watching round my bed."
Of a surety that fervent appeal had been answered. God had indeed guarded the boys through the "long night watches" at school, and through much trial and temptation had brought them safely together under the same hospitable roof.
Each with a distinctive Coloured Jacket, Coloured Frontispiece and other Illustrations. In Large Crown 8vo, cloth gilt.
"HONOUR BRIGHT" (David Chester's Motto)By H. ESCOTT-INMAN
THE SECOND FORM MASTER OF ST. CYRIL'SBy H. ESCOTT-INMAN
LOYAL AND TRUEBy M. B. MANWELL
THE BOYS OF MONK'S HAROLDBy J. HARWOOD PANTING
CLIVE OF CLAIR COLLEGEBy HARRY HUNTINGDON
THE HERO OF GARSIDE SCHOOLBy HARRY HUNTINGDON
THE TWO RUNAWAYSBy HARRY HUNTINGDON
AN UPHILL GAMEBy HARRY HUNTINGDON