I had scarce concealed myself when we heard the steps of some one
approaching down the footpath which led to the bridge. We crouched
behind the cover, convinced that the sound must come from some scout
whom our foemen had sent on in front--a big boy evidently, for his step
was heavy and slow, with a clinking noise mingling with it, of which we
could make nothing. Nearer came the sound and nearer, until a shadowy
figure loomed out of the darkness upon the other side, and after pausing
and peering for a moment, came straight for the bridge. It was only as
he was setting foot upon the plank and beginning gingerly to pick his
way across it, that we discerned the outlines of the familiar form, and
realised the dreadful truth that the stranger whom we had taken for the
advance guard of our enemy was in truth none other than Vicar Pinfold,
and that it was the rhythmic pat of his stick which we heard mingling
with his footfalls. Fascinated by the sight, we lay bereft of all power
to warn him--a line of staring eyeballs. One step, two steps, three
steps did the haughty Churchman take, when there was a rending crack,
and he vanished with a mighty splash into the swift-flowing stream.
He must have fallen upon his back, for we could see the curved outline
of his portly figure standing out above the surface as he struggled
desperately to regain his feet. At last he managed to get erect, and
came spluttering for the bank with such a mixture of godly ejaculations
and of profane oaths that, even in our terror, we could not keep from
laughter. Rising from under his feet like a covey of wild-fowl, we
scurried off across the fields and so back to the school, where, as you
may imagine, we said nothing to our good master of what had occurred.

The matter was too serious, however, to be hushed up. The sudden chill
set up some manner of disturbance in the bottle of sack which the
Vicar had just been drinking with the town clerk, and an attack of gout
set in which laid him on his back for a fortnight. Meanwhile an