In summer all right-minded boys built huts in the furze-hill behind
the College--little lairs whittled out of the heart of the prickly
bushes, full of stumps, odd root-ends, and spikes, but, since they
were strictly forbidden, palaces of delight. And for the fifth summer
in succession, Stalky, McTurk, and Beetle (this was before they
reached the dignity of a study) had built like beavers a place of
retreat and meditation, where they smoked.

Now, there was nothing in their characters as known to Mr. Prout,
their house-master, at all commanding respect; nor did Foxy, the
subtle red-haired school Sergeant, trust them. His business was to
wear tennis-shoes, carry binoculars, and swoop hawklike upon evil
boys. Had he taken the field alone, that hut would have been raided,
for Foxy knew the manners of his quarry; but Providence moved Mr.
Prout, whose school-name, derived from the size of his feet, was
Hoofer, to investigate on his own account; and it was the cautious
Stalky who found the track of his pugs on the very floor of their
lair one peaceful afternoon when Stalky would fain have forgotten
Prout and his works in a volume of Surtees and a new briar-wood pipe.
Crusoe, at sight of the footprint, did not act more swiftly than
Stalky. He removed the pipes, swept up all loose match-ends, and
departed to warn Beetle and McTurk.

But it was characteristic of the boy that he did not approach his
allies till he had met and conferred with little Hartopp, President
of the Natural History Society, an institution which Stalky held in
contempt, Hartopp was more than surprised when the boy meekly, as he
knew how, begged to propose himself, Beetle, and McTurk as
candidates; confessed to a long-smothered interest in