the disposal of the dead hen harrier; other little incidents, most
of which had testified to his deep-rooted selfishness, I had not
failed to notice. More than all, I remembered how he had pocketed
the jewelled fragments of the helmet, and kept the knowledge of
their value from us all. As for the opinions of the other two lads
regarding him, it was Willie Hercus who had called him a "sneak" in
school that morning, and Robbie Rosson, I knew, had certainly no
love for Tom, who had persistently bullied him.

"Well, are you not satisfied?" said Kinlay, seeing my undisguised
indignation.

"Yes, with my own share," I replied. "But if you'd taken the
smaller piece of siller for yourself, and given Willie Hercus yon
piece you've taken, I'd have thought you more honourable."

And then I roundly accused him of having stolen the fragments of
the helmet.

"You have stolen the things," I said. "You saw that they were of
more worth than the rest, and you were afraid that we would want a
share of them."

"You're a liar!" he exclaimed angrily.

"And you're a thief!" I retorted; and I walked round to him,
determined, if necessary, to defend my accusation in a more
practical way than by empty words.

Now, I am confident that Kinlay was almost eager for such a chance