But, I say, youngsters, you'd better not make asses of yourselves.

If you like to come the first mile or two, all right, but take my advice and turn back before you're too far from home." "We're going to run it through," said Dick, "if we possibly can." "We want to get on the Sociables' list," blurted out the confiding Coote; "that's why." Dick and Heathcote blushed up guiltily, and rushed their indiscreet chum off before he had time to unbosom himself further.
Cresswell, with the grin still on his honest face, turned into Freckleton's study.
"By Jove! old man," said he, "you'll have a lot to answer for, the rate you're going on.

There are three youngsters--my fag Dick and his two chums--going to run this hunt through, because their names are not on your precious list.

They'll kill themselves." "Hurrah!" cried the Hermit.

"I'm delighted--not, of course, about the killing, but I like spirit.