Our old friends, Wilson and Jack Bourne, had shut up by stratagem B.A.M.
Cherry in the lamp-room, and the piteous pleadings of that young
Biffenite were listened to with ecstacy by a crowd of a dozen, who
hailed the promises and threats of the prisoner with shouts of mocking
laughter.
W.E. Grim, Esq., explained to a few of his particular chums, Rogers
among them, the wonderful shooting he was going to have "up at Acton's
place" in Yorkshire, and they listened with visible envy.
"Look here, Grimmy, if you tell us next term that you bagged two
woodcock with one barrel, we'll boot you all round Biffen's yard--so
there."
Acton had, as a matter of fact, invited Dick Worcester, Gus Todd, Jack
Senior, of Merishall's house, and Grim, to spend Christmas with him at
his mother's place, and they had all accepted with alacrity.
The northern express rolled into the station, and Grim was hurriedly
informed by Rogers that he was to bag the end carriage for Acton under
pain of death. Grim tore down the platform, and, encouraged by the
cheerful Rogers, performed prodigies of valour, told crams to groups of
disgusted Amorians, who went sighing to search elsewhere for room,
engaged in single combat with one of Sharpe's juniors, and generally
held the fort. And then, when Acton came running down, and wanted to
know what the deuce he was keeping him waiting for, Grim realized that
Rogers had "done" him to a turn. He shouted weird threats as he was
hurried away, to the bubbling Rogers, and that young gentleman lifted
his hat in ironical acknowledgment.
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