"Yes, sir," said Beetle, with a sheepish grin on his lips and murder
in his heart. Hope had nearly left him, but he clung to a
well-established faith that never was Stalky so dangerous as when he
was invisible.

"You are _not_ required to criticise, thank you. Turned out of our
studies, we are, just as if we were no better than little Manders
minor. Only inky schoolboys we are, and must be treated as such."

Beetle pricked up his ears, for Rabbits-Eggs was swearing savagely on
the road, and some of the language entered at the upper sash. King
believed in ventilation. He strode to the window gowned and majestic,
very visible in the gaslight.

"I zee 'un! I zee 'un!" roared Rabbits-Eggs, now that he had found a
visible foe--another shot from the darkness above. "Yiss, yeou, yeou
long-nosed, fower-eyed, gingy-whiskered beggar! Yeu'm tu old for such
goin's on. Aie! Poultice yeour nose, I tall 'ee! Poultice yeour long
nose!"

Beetle's heart leaped up within him. Somewhere, somehow, he knew,
Stalky moved behind these manifestations. There were hope and the
prospect of revenge. He would embody the suggestion about the nose in
deathless verse. King threw up the window, and sternly rebuked
Rabbits-Eggs. But the carrier was beyond fear or fawning. He had
descended from the cart, and was stooping by the roadside.

It all fell swiftly as a dream. Manders minor raised his hand to his
head with a cry, as a jagged flint cannoned on to some rich tree-calf