Wren and Billy Silver had fallen out over a question of space. It wasSilver's opinion that Wren's nest ought to have been built a foot ortwo further to the left. He stated baldly that he had not room tobreathe, and requested the red-headed one to ease off a point or so inthe direction of his next-door neighbour. Wren had refused, and, aftera few moments' chatty conversation, smote William earnestly in thewind. Trouble had begun upon the instant. It had ceased almost asrapidly owing to interruptions from without, but the truce had beenmerely temporary. They continued the argument outside the tent atfive-thirty the next morning, after the _reveille_ had sounded,amidst shouts of approval from various shivering mortals who weretubbing preparatory to embarking on the labours of the day.
A brisk first round had just come to a conclusion when Walton loungedout of the tent, yawning.
Walton proceeded to separate the combatants. After which he rebukedBilly Silver with a swagger-stick. Wren's share in the business heoverlooked. He was by way of being a patron of Wren's, and he dislikedBilly Silver, partly for his own sake and partly because he hated hisbrother, with whom he had come into contact once or twice during hiscareer at Eckleton, always with unsatisfactory results.
So Walton dropped on to Billy Silver, and Wren continued his toiletrejoicing.
Camp was beginning the strenuous life now. Tent after tent emptieditself of its occupants, who stretched themselves vigorously, andproceeded towards the tubbing-ground, where there were tin baths forthose who cared to wait until the same were vacant, and a good, honestpump for those who did not. Then there was that unpopular job, thepiling of one's bedding outside the tent, and the rolling up of thetent curtains. But these unpleasant duties came to an end at last, andsigns of breakfast began to appear.
Breakfast gave Kennedy his first insight into life in camp. Hehappened to be tent-orderly that day, and it therefore fell to his lotto join the orderlies from the other tents in their search for theEckleton rations. He returned with a cargo of bread (obtained from thequartermaster), and, later, with a great tin of meat, which thecook-house had supplied, and felt that this was life. Hithertobreakfast had been to him a thing of white cloths, tables, and foodthat appeared from nowhere. This was the first time he had evertracked his food to its source, so to speak, and brought it back withhim. After breakfast, when he was informed that, as tent-orderly forthe day, it was his business to wash up, he began to feel as if hewere on a desert island. He had never quite realised before whatwashing-up implied, and he was conscious of a feeling of respect forthe servants at Blackburn's, who did it every day as a matter ofcourse, without complaint. He had had no idea before this of theintense stickiness of a jammy plate.
One day at camp is much like another. The schools opened the day withparade drill at about eight o'clock, and, after an instruction seriesof "changing direction half-left in column of double companies", andother pleasant movements of a similar nature, adjourned for lunch.
Lunch was much like breakfast, except that the supply of jam was cutoff. The people who arrange these things--probably the War Office, orMr Brodrick, or someone--have come to the conclusion that two pots ofjam per tent are sufficient for breakfast and lunch. The unwary devourtheirs recklessly at the earlier meal, and have to go jamless untiltea at six o'clock, when another pot is served out.
The afternoon at camp is perfect or otherwise, according to whetherthere is a four o'clock field-day or not. If there is, there are moremanoeuvrings until tea-time, and the time is spent profitably, but notso pleasantly as it might be. If there is no field-day, you can takeyour time about your bathe in Cove Reservoir. And a reallysatisfactory bathe on a hot day should last at least three hours.
Kennedy and Jimmy Silver strolled off in the direction of theReservoir as soon as they felt that they had got over the effects ofthe beef, potatoes, and ginger-beer which a generous commissariat haddoled out to them for lunch. It was a glorious day, and bathing wasthe only thing to do for the next hour or so. Stump-cricket, thatfascinating sport much indulged in in camp, would not be at its bestuntil the sun had cooled off a little.
After a pleasant half hour in the mud and water of the Reservoir, theylay on the bank and watched the rest of the schools take theirafternoon dip. Kennedy had laid in a supply of provisions from thestall which stood at the camp end of the water. Neither of them feltinclined to move.
"This _is_ decent," said Kennedy, wriggling into a morecomfortable position in the long grass. "Hullo!""What's up?" inquired Jimmy Silver, lazily.
He was almost asleep.
"Look at those idiots. They're certain to get spotted."Jimmy Silver tilted his hat off his face, and sat up.
"What's the matter? Which idiot?"Kennedy pointed to a bush on their right. Walton and Perry were seatedbeside it. Both were smoking.
"Oh, that's all right," said Silver. "Masters never come to CoveReservoir. It's a sort of unwritten law. They're rotters to smoke, allthe same. Certain to get spotted some day.... Not worth it.... Spoilslungs.... Beastly bad ... training."He dozed off. The sun was warm, and the grass very soft andcomfortable. Kennedy turned his gaze to the Reservoir again. It was nobusiness of his what Walton and Perry did.
Walton and Perry were discussing ways and means. The conversationchanged as they saw Kennedy glance at them. They were the sort ofpersons who feel a vague sense of injury when anybody looks at them,perhaps because they feel that those whose attention is attracted tothem must say something to their discredit when they begin to talkabout them.
"There's that beast Kennedy," said Walton. "I can't stick that man.
He's always hanging round the house. What he comes for, I can't makeout.""Pal of Fenn's," suggested Perry.
"He hangs on to Fenn. I bet Fenn bars him really."Perry doubted this in his innermost thoughts, but it was not worthwhile to say so.
"Those Blackburn chaps," continued Walton, reverting to anothergrievance, "will stick on no end of side next term about that cup.
They wouldn't have had a look in if Kay hadn't given Fenn that extra.
Kay ought to be kicked. I'm hanged if I'm going to care what I do nextterm. Somebody ought to do something to take it out of Kay for gettinghis own house licked like that."Walton spoke as if the line of conduct he had mapped out for himselfwould be a complete reversal of his customary mode of life. As amatter of fact, he had never been in the habit of caring very muchwhat he did.
Walton's last remarks brought the conversation back to where it hadbeen before the mention of Kennedy switched it off on to new lines.
Perry had been complaining that he thought camp a fraud, that it wasall drilling and getting up at unearthly hours. He reminded Waltonthat he had only come on the strength of the latter's statement thatit would be a rag. Where did the rag come in? That was what Perrywanted to know.
"When it's not a ghastly sweat," he concluded, "it's slow. Like it isnow. Can't we do something for a change?""As a matter of fact," said Walton, "nearly all the best rags areplayed out. A chap at a crammer's told me last holidays that when hewas at camp he and some other fellows loosed the ropes of theguard-tent. He said it was grand sport."Perry sat up.
"That's the thing," he said, excitedly. "Let's do that. Why not?""It's beastly risky," objected Walton.
"What's that matter? They can't do anything, even if they spot us.""That's all you know. We should get beans.""Still, it's worth risking. It would be the biggest rag going. Did thechap tell you how they did it?""Yes," said Walton, becoming animated as he recalled the stirringtale, "they bagged the sentry. Chucked a cloth or something over hishead, you know. Then they shoved him into the ditch, and one of themsat on him while the others loosed the ropes. It took the chaps insideno end of a time getting out.""That's the thing. We'll do it. We only need one other chap. Levesonwould come if we asked him. Let's get back to the lines. It's almosttea-time. Tell him after tea."Leveson proved agreeable. Indeed, he jumped at it. His life, hisattitude suggested, had been a hollow mockery until he heard the plan,but now he could begin to enjoy himself once more.
The lights-out bugle sounded at ten o'clock; the last post atten-thirty. At a quarter to twelve the three adventurers, who had beenkeeping themselves awake by the exercise of great pains, satisfiedthemselves that the other occupants of the tent were asleep, and stoleout.
It was an excellent night for their purpose. There was no moon, andthe stars were hidden by clouds.
They crept silently towards the guard-tent. A dim figure loomed out ofthe blackness. They noted with satisfaction, as it approached, that itwas small. Sentries at the public-school camp vary in physique. Theyfelt that it was lucky that the task of sentry-go had not fallen thatnight to some muscular forward from one of the school fifteens, orworse still, to a boxing expert who had figured in the Aldershotcompetition at Easter. The present sentry would be an easy victim.
They waited for him to arrive.
A moment later Private Jones, of St Asterisk's--for it was he--turningto resume his beat, found himself tackled from behind. Two momentslater he was reclining in the ditch. He would have challenged hisadversary, but, unfortunately, that individual happened to be seatedon his face.
He struggled, but to no purpose.
He was still struggling when a muffled roar of indignation from thedirection of the guard-tent broke the stillness of the summer night.
The roar swelled into a crescendo. What seemed like echoes came fromother quarters out of the darkness. The camp was waking.
The noise from the guard-tent waxed louder.
The unknown marauder rose from his seat on Private Jones, andvanished.
Private Jones also rose. He climbed out of the ditch, shook himself,looked round for his assailant, and, not finding him, hurried to theguard-tent to see what was happening.
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