with the Lodge-keeper and his wife--drop down into the combe, and return along the cliffs; or they could begin at the combe, and climb up into the road.
They were careful not to cross the Colonel's path--he had served his turn, and they would not out-wear their welcome--nor did they show up on the sky-line when they could move in cover. The shelter of the gorse by the cliff-edge was their chosen retreat. Beetle christened it the Pleasant Isle of Aves, for the peace and the shelter of it; and here, pipes and tobacco once cachéd in a convenient ledge an arm's length down the cliff, their position was legally unassailable.
For, observe, Colonel Dabney had not invited them to enter his house. Therefore, they did not need to ask specific leave to go visiting; and school rules were strict on that point. He had merely thrown open his grounds to them; and, since they were lawful Bug-hunters, their extended bounds ran up to his notice- boards in the combe and his Lodge-gates on the hill.
They were amazed at their own virtue.
`And even if it wasn't,' said Stalky, flat on his back, staring into the blue. `Even suppose we were miles out of bounds, no one could get at us through this wuzzy, unless he knew the tunnel. Isn't this better than lyin' up just behind the Coll. --in a blue funk every time we had a smoke? Isn't your Uncle Stalky--?'
`No,' said Beetle--he was stretched at the edge of the cliff thoughtfully spitting. `We've got to thank Turkey for this. Turkey is the Great Man. Turkey, dear, you're distressing Heffles.'
`Gloomy old ass!' said M`Turk, deep in a book.
`They've got us under suspicion,' said Stalky. `Hoophats is so suspicious somehow; and Foxy always makes every stalk he does a sort of--sort of--'
`Scalp,' said Beetle. `Foxy's a giddy Chingangook.'
`Poor Foxy,' said Stalky. `He's goin' to catch us one of these days. 'Said to me in the Gym last night, "I've got my eye on you, Mister Corkran. I'm only warning you for your good." Then I said, "Well, you jolly well take it off again, or you'll get into trouble. I'm only warnin' you for your good." Foxy was wrath.'
`Yes, but it's only fair sport for Foxy,' said Beetle. `It's Hefflelinga that has the evil mind. 'Shouldn't wonder if he thought we got tight.'
`I never got squiffy but once--that was in the holidays,' said Stalky reflectively; `an' it made me horrid sick. 'Pon my sacred Sam, though, it's enough to drive a man to drink, havin' an animal like Hoof for house- master.'
`If we attended the matches an' yelled, "Well hit, sir," an' stood on one leg an' grinned every time Heffy said, "So ho, my sons. Is it thus?" an' said, "Yes, sir," an' "No, sir,' 'an' "Oh, sir," an' "Please, sir," like a lot o' filthy fa-ags, Heffy 'ud think no end of us," said M`Turk, with a sneer.
`'Too late to begin that.'
`It's all right. The Hefflelinga means well. But he is an ass. And we show him that we think he's an ass. An' so Heffy don't love us. 'Told me last night after prayers that he was in loco parentis,' Beetle grunted.
`The deuce he did!' cried Stalky. `That means he's maturin' something unusual dam' mean. 'Last time he told me that he gave me three hundred lines for dancin' the cachuca in Number Ten dormitory. Loco parentis, by gum! But what's the odds, as long as you're 'appy? We're all right.'