Tommy said nothing, but--but one of the school-windows was without a snib, and next morning when the dominie reached his desk he was surprised to find on it a little cotton glove.

He raised it on high, greatly puzzled, and then, as ever when he suspected knavery, his eyes sought Tommy, who was sitting on a form, his arms proudly folded.

That the whelp had put the glove there, Cathro no longer doubted, and he would have liked to know why, but was reluctant to give him the satisfaction of asking.

So the gauntlet--for gauntlet it was--was laid aside, the while Tommy, his head humming like a beeskep, muttered triumphantly through his teeth, "But he lifted it, he lifted it!" and at closing time it was flung in his face with this fair tribute: "I'm no a rich man, laddie, but I would give a pound note to know what you'll be at ten years from now." There could be no mistaking the dire meaning of these words, and Tommy hurried, pale but determined, to the quarry, where Corp, with a barrow in his hands, was learning strange phrases by heart, and finding it a help to call his warts after the new swears.
"Corp," cried Tommy, firmly, "I've set sail!" On the following Saturday evening Charles Edward landed in the Den.

In his bonnet was the white cockade, and round his waist a tartan sash; though he had long passed man's allotted span his face was still full of fire, his figure lithe and even boyish.