This proceeded from the boat-house, wherein Hill
moored the moat punt. "I'll just make a reconnaissance in force," said
Gus, putting down his rod. Arrived at the punt-house, Gus peeped in
through the slightly open door, and discovered no less important
personages than Runjit Mehtah and "Burnt Lamb." The two dervishes were
lolling luxuriantly on the punt cushions, each smoking a fine fat cigar,
and the combined efforts of the two gave quite an Oriental air of
magnificence to the ramshackle boat-house.
"Hallo!" said Gus. "What the deuce are you doing?"
The cigars nearly fell from the mouth of each of the smokers as Gus
appeared on the scene, but when the smokers made out Todd's face
through the haze, Mehtah said, with much relief--
"Oh, talking."
"That isn't quite a true bill," said Gus. "Your Flora Fina de Cabbagios
keep the fish from biting."
"Have one," said Burnt Lamb, hospitably offering Todd a cigar.
"No thanks. Is this punt-house your usual lounge?"
"Sometimes," said Mehtah. "We can't do without our smoke, and we can't
do it, you know, at the school."
"No, that you jolly well can't, my dusky Othello. But aren't you two
booked for the Houser's this afternoon? I thought you were the backbone
of Biffen's."
"The match is not for an hour yet," said Lamb.
"Oh yes," said Mehtah, "we're going to sit on your house this afternoon,
Todd."
At this most interesting point of the conversation the door of the
punt-house was violently slammed to, and Gus was propelled forward clean
into the punt and received hurriedly into the unexpectant arms of Burnt
Lamb.
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