I

    That Buck MacGinnis was not the man to let the grass grow underhis feet in a situation like the present one, I would havegathered from White's remarks if I had not already done so frompersonal observation. The world is divided into dreamers and menof action. From what little I had seen of him I placed BuckMacGinnis in the latter class. Every day I expected him to act,and was agreeably surprised as each twenty-four hours passed andleft me still unfixed. But I knew the hour would come, and it did.

　　I looked for frontal attack from Buck, not subtlety; but, when theattack came, it was so excessively frontal that my chief emotionwas a sort of paralysed amazement. It seemed incredible that suchpeculiarly Wild Western events could happen in peaceful England,even in so isolated a spot as Sanstead House.

　　It had been one of those interminable days which occur only atschools. A school, more than any other institution, is dependenton the weather. Every small boy rises from his bed of a morningcharged with a definite quantity of devilry; and this, if he is tosleep the sound sleep of health, he has got to work off somehowbefore bedtime. That is why the summer term is the one a masterlongs for, when the intervals between classes can be spent in theopen. There is no pleasanter sight for an assistant-master at aprivate school than that of a number of boys expending their venomharmlessly in the sunshine.

　　On this particular day, snow had begun to fall early in themorning, and, while his pupils would have been only too delightedto go out and roll in it by the hour, they were prevented fromdoing so by Mr Abney's strict orders. No schoolmaster enjoysseeing his pupils running risks of catching cold, and just then MrAbney was especially definite on the subject. The Saturnalia whichhad followed Mr MacGinnis' nocturnal visit to the school had hadthe effect of giving violent colds to three lords, a baronet, andthe younger son of an honourable. And, in addition to that, MrAbney himself, his penetrating tenor changed to a guttural croak,was in his bed looking on the world with watering eyes. His views,therefore, on playing in the snow as an occupation for boys werenaturally prejudiced.

　　The result was that Glossop and I had to try and keep order amonga mob of small boys, none of whom had had any chance of workingoff his superfluous energy. How Glossop fared I can only imagine.

　　Judging by the fact that I, who usually kept fair order withoutexcessive effort, was almost overwhelmed, I should fancy he faredbadly. His classroom was on the opposite side of the hall frommine, and at frequent intervals his voice would penetrate my door,raised to a frenzied fortissimo.

　　Little by little, however, we had won through the day, and theboys had subsided into comparative quiet over their eveningpreparation, when from outside the front door there sounded thepurring of the engine of a large automobile. The bell rang.