“I see a chimney,” every boy who happened to be reading or writing, uneasily felt to discover this time he was himself the victim or no; and so things continued for half an hour.

Ridiculous and disgusting as this folly was, it became, when constantly repeated, very annoying.  A boy could not sit down to any quiet work without constant danger of having some one creep up behind him and put the offensive fragment of smoking snuff on his head; and neither Barker nor any of his little gang of imitators seemed disposed to give up their low mischief.

One night, when the usual exclamation was made, Eric felt sure, from seeing several boys looking at him, that this time some one had been treating him in the same way.  He indignantly shook his head, and sure enough the bit of wick dropped off.  Eric was furious, and springing up, he shouted—­

“By Jove!  I won’t stand this any longer.”

“You’ll have to sit it then,” said Barker.

“O, it was you who did it, was it?  Then take that;” and, seizing one of the tin candlesticks, Eric hurled it at Barker’s head.  Barker dodged, but the edge of it cut open his eyebrow as it whizzed by, and the blood flowed fast.

“I’ll kill you for that,” said Barker, leaping at Eric, and seizing him by the hair.

“You’ll get killed yourself then, you brute,” said Upton, Russell’s cousin, a fifth-form boy, who had just come into the room—­and he boxed his ears as a premonitory admonition.  “But, I say, young un,” continued he to Eric, “this kind of thing won’t do, you snow.  You’ll get into rows if you shy candlesticks at fellows’ heads at that rate.”

“He has been making the room intolerable for the last month by his filthy tricks,” said Eric hotly; “some one must stop him, and I will somehow, if no one else does.”

“It wasn’t I who put the thing on your head, you passionate young fool,” growled Barker.

“Who was it then?  How was I to know?  You began it.”

“You shut up, Barker,” said Upton; “I’ve heard of your ways before, and when I catch you at your tricks, I’ll teach you a lesson.  Come up to my study, Williams, if you like.”

Upton was a fine sturdy fellow of eighteen, immensely popular in the school for his prowess and good looks.  He hated bullying, and often interfered to protect little boys, who accordingly idolised him, and did anything he told them very willingly.  He meant to do no harm, but he did great harm.  He was full of misdirected impulses, and had a great notion of being manly, which he thought consisted in a fearless disregard of all school rules, and the performance of the wildest tricks.  For this reason he was never very intimate with his cousin Russell, whom he liked very much, but who was too scrupulous and independent to please him.  Eric, on the other hand, was just the boy to take his fancy, and to admire him in return; his life, strength, and pluck, made him a ready pupil in all schemes of mischief, and Upton, who had often noticed him, would have been the first to shudder had he known how far his example went to undermine all Eric’s lingering good resolutions, and ruin for ever the boy of whom he was so fond.