howling as though his heart would break.

"Beetle is the sacrifice," Stalky said at last, "I'm sorry for you,
Beetle. 'Member Galton's 'Art of Travel' [one of the forms had been
studying that pleasant work] an' the kid whose bleatin' excited the
tiger?"

"Oh, curse!" said Beetle uneasily. It was not his first season as a
sacrifice. "Can't you get on without me?"

"'Fraid not, Beetle, dear. You've got to be bullied by Turkey an' me.
The more you howl, o' course, the better it'll be. Turkey, go an'
covet a stump and a box-rope from somewhere. We'll tie him up for a
kill--_a'_la_ Galton. 'Member when 'Molly' Fairburn made us
cock-fight with our shoes off, an' tied up our knees?"

"But that hurt like sin."

"Course it did. What a clever chap you are, Beetle! Turkey'll knock
you all over the place. 'Member we've had a big row all round, an'
I've trapped you into doin' this. Lend us your wipe." Beetle was
trussed for cock-fighting; but, in addition to the transverse stump
between elbow and knee, His knees were bound with a box-rope. In this
posture, at a push from Stalky he rolled over sideways, covering
himself with dust.

"Ruffle his hair, Turkey. Now you get down, too. 'The bleatin' of the
kid excites the tiger.' You two are in such a sweatin' wax with me
that you only curse. 'Member that. I'll tickle you up with a stump.
You'll have to blub, Beetle."