unknown terrors. But he set his teeth hard and remembered what the Old
Gentleman had told him. He would fight it out and see it through.

"'Tisn't Life that matters, but the Courage--"

And then suddenly the train stopped, the two boys flung themselves at the
window, and the porter outside, like a magician who kept a rabbit in a bag,
suddenly shouted "Salton!" After that there were mixed impressions. He
stood alone on the dark, windy platform whilst dark figures passed and
repassed him. Then a tall, thin Somebody said "Are you Westcott?" and Peter
said "Yes," and he was conveyed to a large wagonette already crowded with
boys. Then there was a great deal of squeezing, a great deal of noise, and
some one in authority said from somewhere, "Less noise, please."

The wagonette started in a jolting uncertain way, and then they seemed
to go on for ever and ever between dark sweet-smelling hedges with black
trees that swept their heads, and the faint blue of the evening sky on the
horizon. Every one was very quiet now, and Peter fell asleep once more and
dreamed of the Old Gentleman, plum cake, and Stephen.

A sudden pause--the sound of an iron gate being swung back, and Peter was
awake again to see that they were driving up to a dark heavy building that
looked like a hospital or a prison.

"The new boys please follow me," and he found himself, still struggling
with sleep, blinded by the sudden light, following, with some ten others,
a long and thin gentleman who wore a pince-nez. His strongest feeling was
that he was very cold and that he hated everybody and everything. He heard
many voices somewhere in the distance, doors were being continually opened
and shut, and little winds blew down the dismal passages. They were