Stalky Co. | Page 4

discerned it.
Wherefore praise we famous men Prom whose bays we borrow-- They
that put aside Today-- All the joys of their Today-- And with toil of
their Today Bought for us Tomorrow!
Bless and praise we famous men Men of little showing! For their work
continueth And their work continueth Broad and deep continueth Great
beyond their knowing!
Copyright, 1899. by Rudyard Kipling

CONTENTS
I. IN AMBUSH II. SLAVES OF THE LAMP--
PART I.
III. AN UNSAVORY INTERLUDE IV. THE IMPRESSIONISTS V.
THE MORAL REFORMERS VI. A LITTLE PREP. VII. THE FLAG
OF THEIR COUNTRY VIII. THE LAST TERM IX. SLAVES OF
THE LAMP --
PART II.

"IN AMBUSH."
In summer all right-minded boys built huts in the furze-hill behind the
College--little lairs whittled out of the heart of the prickly bushes, full
of stumps, odd root-ends, and spikes, but, since they were strictly
forbidden, palaces of delight. And for the fifth summer in succession,
Stalky, McTurk, and Beetle (this was before they reached the dignity of
a study) had built like beavers a place of retreat and meditation, where
they smoked.
Now, there was nothing in their characters as known to Mr. Prout, their
house-master, at all commanding respect; nor did Foxy, the subtle
red-haired school Sergeant, trust them. His business was to wear
tennis-shoes, carry binoculars, and swoop hawklike upon evil boys.
Had he taken the field alone, that hut would have been raided, for Foxy
knew the manners of his quarry; but Providence moved Mr. Prout,
whose school-name, derived from the size of his feet, was Hoofer, to
investigate on his own account; and it was the cautious Stalky who
found the track of his pugs on the very floor of their lair one peaceful
afternoon when Stalky would fain have forgotten Prout and his works
in a volume of Surtees and a new briar-wood pipe. Crusoe, at sight of
the footprint, did not act more swiftly than Stalky. He removed the
pipes, swept up all loose match-ends, and departed to warn Beetle and
McTurk.
But it was characteristic of the boy that he did not approach his allies
till he had met and conferred with little Hartopp, President of the
Natural History Society, an institution which Stalky held in contempt,
Hartopp was more than surprised when the boy meekly, as he knew
how, begged to propose himself, Beetle, and McTurk as candidates;
confessed to a long-smothered interest in first-flowerings, early
butterflies, and new arrivals, and volunteered, if Mr. Hartopp saw fit, to
enter on the new life at once. Being a master, Hartopp was suspicious;
but he was also an enthusiast, and his gentle little soul had been galled
by chance-heard remarks from the three, and specially Beetle. So he
was gracious to that repentant sinner, and entered the three names in his

book.
Then, and not till then, did Stalky seek Beetle and McTurk in their
house form-room. They were stowing away books for a quiet afternoon
in the furze, which they called the "wuzzy."
"All up," said Stalky, serenely. "I spotted Heffy's fairy feet round our
hut after dinner. 'Blessing they're so big."
"Con-found! Did you hide our pipes?" said Beetle.
"Oh, no. Left 'em in the middle of the hut, of course. What a blind ass
you are, Beetle! D'you think nobody thinks but yourself? Well, we can't
use the hut any more. Hoofer will be watchin' it."
"'Bother! Likewise blow!'" said McTurk thoughtfully, unpacking the
volumes with which his chest was cased. The boys carried their
libraries between their belt and their collar. "Nice job! This means
we're under suspicion for the rest of the term."
"Why? All that Heffy has found is a hut. He and Foxy will watch it. It's
nothing to do with us; only we mustn't be seen that way for a bit."
"Yes, and where else are we to go?" said Beetle. "You chose that place,
too--an'--an' I wanted to read this afternoon."
Stalky sat on a desk drumming his heels on the form.
"You're a despondin' brute, Beetle. Sometimes I think I shall have to
drop you altogether. Did you ever know your Uncle Stalky forget you
yet? Hisrebusinfectis--after I'd seen Heffy's man-tracks marchin' round
our hut, I found little Hartopp--destrictoense--wavin' a butterfly-net. I
conciliated Hartopp. 'Told him that you'd read papers to the
Bug-hunters if he'd let you join, Beetle. 'Told him you liked butterflies,
Turkey. Anyhow, I soothed the Hartoffles, and we're Bug-hunters now."
"What's the good of that?" said Beetle.
"Oh, Turkey, kick him!"

In the interests of science bounds were largely relaxed for the members
of the Natural History Society. They could wander, if they kept clear of
all houses, practically where they chose; Mr. Hartopp holding himself
responsible for their good conduct.
Beetle began to see this as McTurk began the kicking.