“Not if we can help it.” agreed Harry Wharton. “But------" “But------” said Bob Cherry. “The butfulness is terrific.” remarked Hurree Jamset Ram Singh, with a shake of his dusky head. “I say, you fellows!” Billy Bunter through the trees on the island, blinking round him through his big spectacles. “I say------” “Shut up, Bunter!” snapped the Bounder. “Oh, really, Smithy! I say, we’re out of jam------” “Shut up!” roared the Famous Five with one voice. “But we’re out of jam!” said Bunter warmly. “Don’t you understand? Jam!” Billy Bunter blinked at the Remove fellows, apparently expecting them to display an instant and deep concern. But they didn’t! There were not so interested in jam as William George Bunter was. On the other hand, they were very deeply interested in cricket, which did not interest the fat Owl of the Remove at all. “If we could manage it-----” said the captain of the Remove thoughtfully. “We’re all as keen on playing Highcliffe as you are, Smithy. But------" “ Safe as houses!” repeated the Bounder. “Are you fellows jawing cricket?” hooted Bunter. “Yes, ass! Shut up!” “Cricket!” snorted Bunter. “Cricket! Is this the time to talk cricket, you silly asses?”
“It looks like it.” agreed Wharton. “But------” “They keep an eye on the island, though.” said Frank Nugent. “If you start walking across to Highcliffe we shall be spotted and bagged.” “No need!” said Smithy promptly. “We can pull up the river in the boat past Courtfield and land at the Highcliffe boathouse. Start early in the morning, and nobody at Greyfriars will be a penny the wiser.” “I say, you fellows------" “We’ve left our things at the school.” remarked Johnny Bull. “We can’t ask the Head to send on our cricketing things---what?” “Ha, ha, ha!” “Fathead! That’s no trouble.” said the Bounder. “We go shopping in the town ne8rly every day, two or three of those. Well, my father runs an account for me at the school outfitters in Courtfield. You fellows can settle up later for anything you want.” Bob Cherry laughed. “Smithy’s got an answer for everything!” he remarked. “By Jove! It’s tempting.” said Harry Wharton thoughtfully. “we don’t want to scratch with Highcliffe if we can help it. But---” he paused. “There’s still time to let Courtenay know. “Oh, blow your buts!” growled the Bounder. “We’re not going to scratch! If we go in the boat,
Wharton. “Taking a little trip in it!” answered Pon airily. “Any objections?” “Where are the fellows---” “We only found one fellow in it! We persuaded him to step out!” said Pon in the same airy manner. “We left Nugent sittin’ on the steps at Courtfield bridge counting up his bruises.” “Ha, ha, ha!” yelled Gadsby and Monson. “Bring that boat here, you Highcliffe cads!” roared Bolsover major. “Hardly!” grinned Pon. “I say, you fellows, ask ‘em if the jam’s on board! They’ll let us have the jam, anyway! Pon don’t want our jam--- Yaroooh! If you kick me again, Bull, you beast, I’ll--- Yarooooop!” “ look here, ponsonby!” called out Wharton, speaking as calmly as he could. “You can’t keep our boat!” “Your boat?” retorted Ponsonby. “I’ve heard that it belongs to a Fifth Form man at your school, and that you bagged it.” “That’s no business of yours.” “Oh, not at all!” answered Pon. “but I’m a good natured chap, and I’m going to take Coker’s boart back to him. I’m always doin’ fellows good I dare say you’ve noticed.” “Ha, ha, ha!” howled Gadsby and Monson, greatly
interest for Coker & Co., but it had for the three fellows in the boat, who were heading for the bank. “My boat!” gasped Coker, at last, breaking his silence. “My boat! My hat! My boat!” Potter and Greene stared. “ It’s Coker’s boat!” said Greene in astonishment. “But they’re Highcliffe kids in it a!” “I know that gang!” remarked Potter. “One’s Ponsonby---a cheeky young blackguard, if you like! And Gadsby and Monson------” “It’s my boat!” articulated Coker. I know my own boat when I see it! Those young rascals have got my boat! I’ll give them getting hold of my boat! Jump on ‘em!” Coker dropped the picnic basket and pushed back his cuffs. Horace Coker had given up hope of recapturing that boat, so long as the Remove rebellion lasted. This was a chance not to be to mention the satisfaction of thrashing the cheeky young rascals who were in it! It was cheeky enough of the Removites to bag Coker’s boat, but they, at least, belonged to Coker’s school. Pon & Co. bid not, and their nerve, in pulling about the Sark in Coker’s boat, almost took Horace’s breath away. Coker was prepared to make an example of anyone he found he was prepared to make a more horrible example of Highcliffians than of Greyfriars fellows! This was, in Coker’s opinion,
any more than Nugent could! And what’s the good of ragging, anyhow?” “Not much good.” remarked Tom Redwing. “the question is---what the thump are we going to do?” The Bounder scowled blackly. Growling and scowling really did not help, but Smithy seemed to find some sort of satisfaction therein. Nugent had waited till the three came back to the steps by the bridge; he could do nothing else. They came back cheerfully enough, after getting through their business at the outfitters in Courtfield High Street anb a considerable amount of other shopping. All three carried parcels, which were to be deposited in the boat for transport to the rebels’ island. Their cheery mood changed very considerably out the news that the board had been raided by Pon & Co. of Highcliffe. “We shall have to walk back and get across to the island somehow!” said Bob Cherry. “No good grousing, anyhow.” “We’ve got to have a boat!” growled the Bounder. “How the thump on we going to Highcliffe on Wednesday without a boat? And we’ve arranged to call at the outfitters tomorrow for our things, too! We’ve got to have a boat! We’re done for without one!” He gave an angry growl. “If you’d kept your eyes open, Nugent---” “Oh, chuck it!” said Frank. “ Let’s get back; that’s
all we can do now!” “We’ll take it out of Pon & Co. sometime!” said Bob. “That won’t help us now!” grunted Vernon-Smith. “Look here, let’s try after a boat at the boathouse above the bridge! We might----" “We’ve tried there once, and found that the head had warned them not to let us have one.” said Bob. “Nothing in that.” “We might get hold of one, and---" “Oh, rot! We’re not pinching boats!” exclaimed Bob. “Anyhow, it’s for Wharton to decide what’s to be done! He’s skipper! Let’s get off!” “Blow Wharton!” growled the Bounder. “Oh rats! Come on!” Bob Cherry anb Redwing and Nugent started walking down the path beside the river. The Bounder grunted angrily and followed them. They were soon out of the precincts of the town and following the grassy path between the Sark and the Popper Court woods. All of them were looking very serious. It was a hot afternoon, unduly hard to carry the rather heavy parcels that had been brought for the boat. Altogether, it was not a happy walk. The Bounder’s eyes were on the river as they went. There was a chance of spotting some man in a boat to give them a lift, and had Smithy sighted either a Greyfriars or a Highcliffe craft he was prepared to
“What?” Potter and Greene joined him on the edge of the bank, staring “They’ve pinched my boat again!” “But---but how could they?” gasped Potter in bewilderment. “We never saw anything of him. How the thump could---” “They’ve got it!” howled Coker. “Oh crikey!” ejaculated Greene. “They must have sneaked along under the bank and pinched it, and we never saw------” “You didn’t see them, either!” hooted Potter. “Don’t jaw, Potter!” “Well, did you?” howled Greene “Don’t gabble, Greene!” “Ha, ha, ha!” came a yell from the boat. “Thanks, Coker! Fearfully obliged! Good old Coker!” “I’ll smash him!” yelled Coker. “I---I---I’ll spiflicate them! My boat! I’ll hammer them black and blue! I’ll------” Coker brandished a pair of large fists at the grinning crew of the boat. Had the removites been within reach, there was certainly have been some very severe hammering and spiflicating. But the board was far out of Coker’s reach, and he could only brandish his fists after it. The Bounder waved his hat in cheery farewell, and Coker was left on the bank in a state that was almost frantic.
“Yes, I know all about that. I was afraid it might mean scratching, but it seems that it’s all right.” “All right, is it?” grinned Ponsonby. “I fancy not. Unless those Greyfriars cads can swim here for the game.” “They’ll come in their boat, I suppose.” said Courtenay, staring. “They’ve got a boat at the island.” “They had, you mean.” said Ponsonby. “Anything happened to their jolly old craft?” yawned the Caterpiller. “You see, the boat belonged to a ruffian called Coker, of the Fifth Form at their school.” said Ponsonby. “I think he got it back yesterday.” “Then I dare say they’ve got hold of another.” “Not likely! Their beak seems to be a silly old ass, from the way he’s letting them carry on. But I fancy he’s got sense enough not to let them get hold of another boat. All he’s got to do now is to wait till they get hungry and give in.” Courtenay looked at the letter in his hand again. He shook his head and smiled. “This letters from Wharton.” he said. “He says plainly that they will be over here tomorrow. It was posted in Courtfield last evening. Looks as if they can get off the island when they like.” Ponsonby started. “Then you think they’ll be comin’?”
Greyfriars men turn up here all merry and bright.” admitted the Caterpiller. “ Pon seems to think that there’r dished. It will be amusin’ to watch his face when they barge in.” And the Caterpillar smiled, consoled by that happy anticipation. Ponsonby was not smiling, however, as he walked away across the Highcliffe quad. There was a but the scroll on Pon’s handsome face. He was still feeling, painfully, the effects of his hectic encounter with Coker of the Greyfriars Fifth. The severe handling he had received from Horace Coker could not, certainly, be laid to the charge of the Removites. But it added to Pon’s bitter animosity towards his old enemies of the Remove. He joined Gadsby and Monson under the beeches. Monson’s was rubbing his head ruefully. There was still a pain in it. “Anything up?” asked Gadsby, noting the black look on the face of the dandy of Highcliffe. “Those Greyfriars cads are comin’ over to-morrow, after all.” answered Ponsonby. “They’ve pinched a boat from somewhere, I suppose.” “Blow ’em!” grunted Monson. “I wish we’d left them alone. That hooligan Coker jolly nearly cracked my nut.” “I fancy we can dish them, all the same.” said Ponsonby.
Gadsby looked alarmed. “Look here! Courteay tired!” he exclaimed. “I’m not goin’ anywhere near that dashed island, I can tell you! I’m leavin’ those rotters alone!” “More ways than one of killing a cat.” said Pon, with a glitter in his eyes. “Suppose they knew at Greyfriars that the rotters were over here.” “They’ll keep it dark enough.” said Gadsby. “It might be let right.” “Oh, don’t be a rotter, Pon!” said Gadsby uneasily. “You can’t go sneakin’ about fellows to their beak. And it would mean trouble here, too, if you did anything to muck up the match. Courtenay is looking forward to it. And, anyhow, why can’t you let them alone?” “If they knew at Greyfriars,” went on Ponsonby, unheeding. “the game would be up for those cads. The prefects would come over and bag them while they were playin’ cricket.” “I suppose they would; but------" “It’s too jolly krisky.” muttered Monson. “Baggin’ their boat is one thing, but sneaking about them at their school is another. And it would come out, too.” “How could it come out?” “Well, things always do come out.” grunted Monson. “You’re always layin’ schemes, Pon, but they don’t generally come to anythin’, except trouble. Look here! Leave ‘em alone and let ‘em rip!”
Really, sir------” “Really, Mr. Quelch------” “I fail to see------” “A Form-master,” said the Head of Greyfriars, is naturally expected to exercise authority over his Form.” “Quite, sir! But------” “Your Form, Mr. Quelch, is in a state of unexampled defiance of authority------” “I regret it, sir; but------” “This state of affairs can’t continue.” said Dr. Locke, with ascerbity. Mr. Quelch was silent. Obviously such a state of affairs could not continue. But it did continue. Although it couldn’t, it did. There was the rub. “A headmaster,” said Dr. Locke, “does not expect to find a member of his staff totally unable to control his Form.” Henry Samuel Quelch breathed hard. “A boy in the Remove was expelled.” continued the Head.” Such an incident is very regrettable. But such things have happened before. They have never been followed by such an extraordinary occurrence as this.” “My Form, sir, do not believe that Bunter committed the act for which he was sentenced to
had little chance, as it was fairly certain that the unknown inker was a member of the Remove, fortified on Popper’s Island, were out of reach of investigation. Mr. Prout, portly and pompous as usual, met him at the corner of the passage. “Your boys are still absent from school, my dear Quelch!” boomed Prout. “ I do not need informing of that fact, sir.” answered the Remove master tartly. “No doubt---no doubt; but surely you realise, my dear Quelch, that is time---high time---that something was done to------” “If you have any suggestion to make, Mr. said the Remove master sourly. “It is not for me,” said Prout, “to make suggestions. Far be it from me to intervene in the management of a colleague’s Form. But I am bound to observe that it is high time that this unprecedented state of affairs was brought to an end. I am bound to say--- Really, Quelch, I wish you would not walk away while I am addressing you!” Quelch did, however, walk away, leaving Prout snorting with indignation. The remove master went to this story. He paced that apartment in deep and troubled thought. He was sure, or almost sure, but the Head had, for once, made a mistake. But that did not alter the fact that
“The cricket match!” repeated Mr. Quelch. “Is there a match at Highcliffe to-morrow, Wingate?” “The Remove have a fixture with Highcliffe, sir.” answered the head of the games, with a curious glance at Ponsonby. “ I believe to-morrow is the date; but, of course, they will not be playing the match, in the circumstances. That’s impossible “Quite!” said Mr. Quelch. He gave the dandy of Highcliffe a cold and contemptuous glance. “I see no reason, Ponsonby, why you should concern yourself about the matter; but you may be satisfied that the match will not played, in any case. You may go.” “They intend to play, sir------" “Nonsense!” “Courtenay, our junior captain, had a letter from Wharton this morning, saying that the Greyfriars team would be over to-morrow.” Mr. Quelch started. “Is it possible?” he exclaimed. “Wingate, do you think it possible?” “I shouldn’t have thought so, sir!” answered the Greyfriars captain. “Still, those Remove kids have nerve of enough for anything, I think.” “It’s a fact.” said Ponsonby. “If you look in at Highcliffe to-morrow you’ll find them playing cricket! If you look in at the island you’ll find half the crew gone! And---”
Match! “I say, you fellows------” “Hallo, hallo, hallo! Enjoying life, old fat bean?” roared Bob Cherry. And he bestowed a cheery smack on Bunter fat shoulder. “Ow!” howled Bunter. “Wow! Beast!” Bob Cherry was in exuberant spirits that Wednesday morning. He generally was; but on that particular morning he was rather more exuberant than usual. It was the day of the Highcliffe match, and the remove were going to play Highcliffe, in spite of the peculiar state of affairs that obtained. And it was a glorious morning! The early sunshine gleamed on the Sark, glittering between its green banks. After breakfast the party for Highcliffe were getting ready, in great spirits. Billy Bunter backed away from the exuberant Bob! Robert cherry was really not quite safe at close quarters when he was in high spirits. “You silly ass! You’ve nearly busted my back!” grunted Bunter. “I say, you fellows, if you ask me, I think it’s a never ever to my dear to clear of to Highcliffe to-day!” “ Nobody asked you, sir, she said’!” sang Bob Cherry. “Shut up, Bunter!” said the Bounder. “Beast! You jolly nearly lost the boat yesterday!”
“Blessed if I see anything to cackle at!” said Bunter warmly. “Letting a fellow down, I call it! Yahm” “We never brought any jam back on our last trip!” said Bob Cherry thoughtfully. “No, you beast! Fat lot you care if I have to go without jam!” said the Owl of the Remove scornfully. “We’ll bring some back to day!” said Bob. “Oh!” said Bunter. “We’ll get it in Courtfield, and bring it back in the boat---whole jars of it!” said Bob. “Still, if you’d rather we didn’t go------" “My dear chap, you can’t let Highcliffe down!” said Bunter, at once. “Dash it all, if you fix up a cricket match, you ought to play it!” “Ha, ha, ha!” “Mind you don’t forget the jam!” said Bunter, quite reconciled now to the departure of the cricketers. “It would be just like you fellows to think about nothing but cricket, and forget all about the jam!” “I guess it’s risky, leaving the island!” said Fisher T. Fish, shaking his bony head. “I guess------" “Don’t you be funky, Fishy!” said Bunter. “I shall be here! I’ll look after you if the prefects come along! I say, you fellows whatever you do, don’t forget the jam!” “Ha, ha, ha!” It was rather a crowded boat that pushed off from Popper’s island. Luckily, Coker’s boat was a large
book, which was now clutched in his bony hand. The other hand he held out for the six pence. Bolsover major stared at it, and snorted. “Wants washing!” he said. “Eh---what!” Fisher T. Fish was not holding out that bony paw for inspection. He was holding it out for a “tanner.” “Look here, you guy, I’ll say it’s pay-day, and I’m sure waiting!” “Wait!” suggested Bolsover major. “I guess------” “Guess again!” Bolsover major turneb away. He was not in a good temper that afternoon. He had a conviction that he ought to have been at Highcliffe, a distinguished member of the Remove eleven. Nobody else thought so---but Bolsover major was convinced of it. He was in no mood to be bothered by the schoolboy shylock. But Fisher T. Fish was not to be denied. He jerked after the burly Removite and grabbed his arm with bony fingers. “I’ll say it’s pay-day!” said Fisher T. Fish indignantly. “I guess you want to cough up that tanner, big boy!” “You skinny skinflint!” growled Bolsover major. “I’m just on stony! You’d better send the head a line to send us some pocket money.” “You borrowedboart the money, didn’t you?” demanded Fisher T. Fish. “You owe me the dust,
don’t you? I got it all down here!” He held up the business-book. “You ain’t paid more’n three bob in interest so far. I guess I ain’t lending money for my health. I guess------ Why, what------ Wake snakes and walk chalks! You pesky gink!” yelled Fisher T. Fish, as Bolsover major suddenly snatched the book from his hand. “Gimme that book!” Bolsover major, grinning, held the account book high above his head. Fishy jumped at him, and the bully of the Remove pushed him off with his left hand. It was rather a hefty push, and Fisher T. Fish sat down, bumping. He jumped up again like a jack-in-the-box. And “Gimme that book!” he howled. Fisher T Fish was alarmed. Once before that business book had been out of his possession and had fallen into the hands of Mr. Prout. Fishy had been in great straits to get it back before Prout discovered the owner or took it to the Head. He had been driven to desperate resources on that occasion. Nobody suspected that it was Fisher T. Fish who had squirted the ink over Prout on the Elm Walk in the dark, thus causing him to drop that precious book, which Fishy had then recovered. Fishy was keeping his part in the inky episode a deep secret. Since that time Fisher T. Fish had kept that precious account book safely parked in an inner pocket. Now it was in the grasp of the bully of the
Remove---held high out of Fish ‘s frantic reach. Bolsover major chuckled. He had borrowed money from the schoolboy Shylock, but that did not prevent him from despising the young rascal from the bottom of his heart. And he was idle and ill-tempered, and at such times he found entertainment in ragging and bullying. “Jump for it!” he grinned. book “You pie-faced geck!” roared Fisher T. Fish. “You hand me that, or I guess I’ll make potato scrapings of you! That looks valuable!” He jumped for the book. Bolsover major gave him another shove, and he sat down again. “Gimme that book!” he yelled, as he scrambled up breathlessly. “Here, you Redwing, you make that guy gimme my book!” Tom Redwing gave him a glance of contempt. “Chuck it into the river, Bolsover.” he suggested. “Why, you---you pesky geck!” gasped Fisher T. Fish. “Say, you goob, gimmee that book! I’ll say I’ll walk all over you if you don’t hand it over smart!” Bolsover major walked down to the landing-place he made a motion of tossing the account-book into the Sark, and Fisher T. Fish, in desperate alarm, leaped at him and grasped him. Fishy was no fighting man. But the worm will there was no doubt that Fishy was a worm! He grabbed the burly Removite with bony claws
Head saw it.” “Aw, can it!” snarled Fisher T. Fish. He glanced around and stirred Lord Mauleverer with his foot Mauly started and sat up. “Say, Mauly, you’re some swimmer.” said Fisher T Fish. “That pesky guy Bolsover’s chucked my book across to the bank. You’ll go after it.” “I’ll lend you a book.” yawned Lord Mauleverer. “I’ve got a Holiday Annual here somewhere as quotes “You pesky mugwump, what’s the use of a Holiday Annual?” grunted Fisher T. Fish. “It’s my account book, you jay!” “It’s Fishy’s money lending book, Mauly.” said Redwing. “Leave it alone.” “Oh!” said Lord Mauleverer. He rose to his feet. “Leave it alone, Mauly, you ass!” said Redwing. “Say, you let Mauly alone!” yapped Fisher T. Fish. “You let Mauly do as he blamed well likes! Don’t you horn in, you guy! You’re going for the book, Mauly?” “No” yawned Lord Mauleverer. “I wouldn’t touch the putrid thing with a barge pole. Like your cheek ask a decent chap to touch it! I’m not going for the book. I’m going for you------" “What--- Hyer, hands off! Yaroooop!” roared Fisher T. Fish, as the schoolboy earl caught him by the collar, and spun him round. “Wharrer you fancy
tapping Wharton on the arm as the Greyfriars field came off. Harry wharton’s face was very bright. In his keenness on the game he had rather forgotten Popper’s Island, and his misgivings on that subject. But it clouded a little as the Bounder’s words reminded him. “Jolly glad, so far as the game goes!” he answered. “I hope we shall find things all right at the island, though, when we get back.” “Bit late in the day to worry about that!” said Hazeldene, with a laugh. “Oh, the jolly old island’s all right!” said Bob Cherry cheerfully. “Nothing’s happened there, except that Bunter may have scoffed all the grub.” “Ha, ha, ha!” “The rightfulness is terrific!” declared Hurree Jamset Ram Singh “The esteemed and ridiculous Bunter is as safe as absurd houses.” “Blow Bunter!” said Vernon-Smith. “Beating Highcliffe matters a lot more than Bunter.” Harry Wharton made no reply to that. He was quite as keen as Smithy on beating Highcliffe at cricket. But the Remove rebellion had been organized to secure justice for the sacked Owl; and that came first. But it was, as Hazel had said, too late into the day to think about that. “We shan’t have to bat again.” said Bob Cherry
cheery smack that made him stagger. “Two if you can!” “Say, you guys!” A dusty, breathless, bony youth jerked up. The cricketers stared at Fisher T. Fish. Harry Wharton compressed his lips. “What are you doing here?” he exclaimed. Fisher T .Fish gasped for breath. He had lost no time in carrying the bad news to Highcliffe. “I guess---” he gasped. “What---" “I calculate I’ve moseyed along to tell you the noos!” panted Fisher T. Fish. “They’re at the and a dozen of the Sixth---and I kinder reckon they’ve grabbed it before this! I’ll say that the game’s up!” Fisher T. Fish sank into a seat at the pavilion, panting, to rest his weary, bony limbs. And the Greyfriars cricketers gazed at him in dismay. THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER. The Capture of the Island! “Back up, Remove!” yelled Tom Redwing.
“I---I say, I---I’m not here” “What?” “ I---I mean, I---I’m not coming down! I---I can’t go back to Greyfriars, you know!” gasped the Owl of the Remove. “The Head makes out that I’m “You young ass!” “I---I say, you leave me alone!” gasped Bunter. “I never inked old Prout! I told the Head so! You’re a prefect, Wingate, and you ought to find out who inked Prout! Then the Head will let me off, see?” “Will you come down?” roared Wingate. “Ow! No! Beast!” “Come up after him!” roared Bolsover major belligerently Wingate & Co. stared up. There were five fellows in the oak prepared to dispute an ascent. It was not an easy prospect. “Bunter,- you fat young ass-----” “Beast!” howled Bunter. “I’m not coming down! I told the Head I couldn’t go in the middle of the term! My pater would be awfully waxy.” “Ha, ha, ha!” came from the branches of the oak. “I say, you fellows, keep those beasts olf! I say---" “Come on!” said Wingate, and he started clambering up the thick, gnarled old trunk of the big oak-tree. Gwynne and Sykes followed him. That ancient tree was easy enough to climb, for an
the landing place being towards the Popper Court bank. Nothing, therefore, was to be seen either of the defenders or of the assailants, and for all the boat’s crew lnew, the seniors might already have completed their “bade” and started back to the school. “Hark!” exclaimed Frank Nugent suddenly. There was the sound of a yell from the thick wood on the island. Evidently somebody was still there. Harry wharton’s face brightened “We’re in time!” he exclaimed. “Sounds like it.” grinned Bob Cherry, as there was another yell. “Sure!” grinned Fisher T. Fish. “I’ll say I never let the daisies grow under my feet when I was burning the wind for Highcliffe. I’ll allow that we’re in time.” “Pull on!” Yell after yell sounded from the island as the board pulled nearer. It was clear that some sort of scrap was still in progress. The Bounder’s sulky look vanished. His look became as eager as the rest, and he grasped the cane handle of his bat. “We’re in time.” he said, “and we’ll jolly well mop them up, and get back to Highcliffe and finish the game as Courtenay asked us to.” “We’ll mop them up first.” said Wharton drily.