Once more, amid terrible suspense, they saw the helpless form raised gently and deposited on the hurdle.

A sigh of relief escaped when the operation was over, and the sad burden, supported at each corner by the two masters, Scarfe and Farfield, began to move slowly towards the school.
"Slowly, and do not keep step.

Above all things avoid a jolt," said the doctor, keeping the boy's hand in his own.
The crowd opened to let them pass, and then followed in mournful procession.
As the bearers passed on, Jeffreys, who all this time had been forgotten, but who had never once turned his face from where Forrester lay, stepped quickly forward as though to assist in carrying the litter.
His sudden movement, and the startling gesture that accompanied it, disconcerted the bearers, and caused them for a moment to quicken their step, thus imparting an unmistakable shock to the precious burden.
The doctor uttered an exclamation of vexation and ordered a halt.
"Stand back, sir!" he cried angrily, waving Jeffreys back; "a jolt like that may be fatal!" An authority still more potent than that of the doctor was at hand to prevent a recurrence of the danger.

Jeffreys was flung out of reach of the litter by twenty angry hands and hounded out of the procession.
He did not attempt to rejoin it.

For a moment he stood and watched it as it passed slowly on.