The PothuntersExcerpt: ...happened? You know that rotter Plunkett. Used to be a day boy. Head of Ward's now. Wears specs.' 'Yes?' 'Well, just as I was almost out of the wood, I jumped a bush and landed right on top of him. The man was asleep or something. Fancy choosing the Dingle of all places to sleep in, where you can't go a couple of yards without running into a keeper! He hadn't even the sense to run. I yelled to him to look out, and then I hooked it myself. And then the nearest keeper, who'd just come down a buster over a rabbit-hole, sailed in and had him. I couldn't do anything, of course.' 'Jove, there'll be a fair-sized row about this. The Old Man's on to trespassing like tar. I say, think Plunkett'll say anything about you being there too?' 'Shouldn't think so. For one thing I don't think he recognized me. Probably doesn't know me by sight, and he was fast asleep, too. No, I fancy I'm all right.' 'Well, it was a jolly narrow shave. Anything else happen?' 'Anything else! Just a bit. That's to say, no, nothing much else. No.' 'Now then, ' said Reade, briskly. 'None of your beastly mysteries. Out with it.' 'Look here, swear you'll keep it dark?' 'Of course I will.' 'On your word of honour?' 'If you think-' began Reade in an offended voice. 'No, it's all right. Don't get shirty. The thing is, though, it's so frightfully important to keep it dark.' 'Well? Buck up.' 'Well, you needn't believe me, of course, but I've found the pots.' Reade gasped. 'What!' he cried. 'The pot for the quarter?' 'And the one for the hundred yards. Both of them. It's a fact.' 'But where? How? What have you done with them?' Barrett unfolded his tale concisely. 'You see, ' he concluded, 'what a hole I'm in. I can't tell the Old Man anything about it, or I get booked for cutting roll-call, and going out of bounds. And then, while I'm waiting and wondering what to do, and all that, the thief, whoever he is, will most likely go off with the pots. What do you think I ought to do?' Reade perpended.... |