I heard his footsteps swing heavily across the quadrangle, as if challenging the notice of the enemy.

Whether the enemy heard or answered the challenge I could not say.

The steps died away into silence, and I listened in vain for further sign.
Presently I returned to the faggery, where the Philosophers were just preparing to obey the summons to bed.
Hurriedly I recited the event of the evening, and for once was honoured with their rapt and excited attention.
"My eye, what a shame we can't go out and see the fun!" cried Langrish.
"I hope he makes jelly of him," said Trimble.

"I'm jolly glad I'm his fag." This brought on a crisis I had rather feared.
"You're not," said I.

"Pridgin has swopped me for you." "What!" screamed Trimble, taking a running kick at my shins.
"I didn't do it.