corridor.

Gamboling like kids at play, with bounds and sidestarts, with
caperings and curvetings, they led the almost bursting Beetle to the
rabbit-lane, and from under a pile of stones drew forth the new-slain
corpse of a cat. Then did Beetle see the inner meaning of what had
gone before, and lifted up his voice in thanksgiving for that the
world held warriors so wise as Stalky and McTurk.

"Well-nourished old lady, ain't she?" said Stalky. "How long d'you
suppose it'll take her to get a bit whiff in a confined space?"

"Bit whiff! What a coarse brute you are!" said McTurk. "Can't a poor
pussy-cat get under King's dormitory floor to die without your
pursuin' her with your foul innuendoes?"

"What did she die under the floor for?' said Beetle, looking to the
future.

"Oh, they won't worry about that when they find her," said Stalky.

"A cat may look at a king." McTurk rolled down the bank at his own
jest. "Pussy, you don't know how useful you're goin' to be to three
pure-souled, high-minded boys."

"They'll have to take up the floor for her, same as they did in Number
Nine when the rat croaked. Big medicine--heap big medicine! Phew! Oh,
Lord, I wish I could stop laughin'," said Beetle.

"Stinks! Hi, stinks! Clammy ones!" McTurk gasped as he regained his