moments wondering what this could mean, and were just thinking of
starting a fresh game of "catch smugglers," when there came a banging at
the door. It was flung open, and Cross rushed into their midst,
flushed, dishevelled, and empty-handed!

What words of mine can tell that tale of woe or describe the burst of
indignation which followed its recital? Cross had unwisely decided to
shorten his return journey by risking the dangers of Locker's
Lane. He had been captured by a party of Philistines, who, under the
leadership of Hogson, had not only robbed him of his pie, but had held
him prisoner while they devoured it before his very eyes!

What this terrible outrage would have excited those who had suffered
this cruel wrong to do in return--whether they would have started off
there and then, burnt Horace House to the ground, and hung its
inhabitants on the surrounding trees--it would be hard to say; as it
was, at this very moment a counter-attraction was forced upon their
attention by Morris, who came shouldering his way into their midst,
saying,--

"Look here, you fellows, some one's stolen my watch and chain!"

It seemed as if a perfect shower of thunderbolts had commenced to
descend from a clear sky upon the devoted heads of Mr. Welsby's pupils.
Every one stared at his neighbour in mute amazement, and only Fred Acton
remained in sufficient possession of his faculties to gasp out,--

"_What?_"

"It's true," continued Morris excitedly. "I didn't change for football