"I did," answered Mugford, half crying; "I thought it was empty."

"Thought it was empty! why didn't you look, you young blockhead?" cried
the prefect, catching the small boy by the arm, while Noaks and Mouler
burst into a roar of laughter.

Things would probably have gone hard with the unfortunate Mugford if at
that moment a fifth party had not arrived on the scene. The new-comer,
who, from the show of whisker at the side of his face and the tone of
authority in which he spoke, seemed to be one of the masters, was tall
and muscular, with the bronze of a season's cricketing still upon his
cheeks and neck.

"Stop a minute, Oaks," he said. "I happened to see this little game;
let's hear what the kid's got to say for himself."

In faltering tones Mugford told his story. Without a word the stranger
stepped up to Mouler and dealt him a sounding box on the ear.

"There!" he said, "take that for your trouble; and now cut off down town
and buy a fresh pot of paint out of your own pocket, and do it jolly
quick, too.--As for you," he added, turning to Noaks, "get a spade out
of that place under the pavilion and clean up this path. If you weren't
a new fellow I'd serve you the same. Look out in future."

"And you look out too," muttered Noaks, glancing at Mugford with a
fierce expression on his face as the two seniors moved off, "you beastly
young sneak. The first chance I get I'll give you the best licking
you ever had in your life."