“No, I don’t think I shall.  All the same, I would not dog Acton’s footsteps quite so much.”

“He’s a monitor.”

“Who’ll make you useful.  Take my word for it.”

“We’ll see.”

“Oh!  Certainly we shall.”

Jack was thoroughly unhinged by his brother’s dry bantering tone, and said hotly—­

“I cannot understand, Phil, why he didn’t get his cap.  He deserved it.”

“There’s no need for you to understand it, young ’un.”

“My opinion is——­”

“Not worth the breath you’re going to waste.”

“It’s considered a shame pretty generally.”

“I’ve heard so; but, still, that does not alter matters.  However, I did not want to talk politics with you, Jack.  Don’t put your innocent little toes into any scrape—­that is all I wanted to tell you.  Here is half a crown for you to buy butterscotch, and while you’re sucking it think over what I’ve said.  What!  Little boys given up toffee?  Then I’d better say good night, Jack.”  Jack went out pretty sore.

About a week or so after this, Acton and young Bourne sped down to the old Lodestone Farm, and as they pedalled in at the gate young Hill, the farmer’s son, said to Acton—­

“The man’s been here since twelve, sir.”

“That’s all right,” said Acton.  “Has he got the stable ready?”

“He’s been putting it to rights the last hour.”

“I say, Bourne,” said Acton, turning to Jack, “ever heard of the Alabama Coon?”

“The fellow who won that fight in Holland?  The prize-fighter?”

“The very same.”

“Rather!”

“Well, I’ve engaged him to give me a few lessons here.  I’m going to try for the Heavy at Aldershot.  Like to see the fun?”

“Rather!”

“Then come along.”

Together they went into the stable, and therein found “The Coon,” a coal-black negro, busily shovelling sand upon the floor, smoking an enormous cigar the while.

“Making ready the cockpit,” said Acton to Jack, who was staring open-eyed at the worker.  “Lusty looking animal, eh?”

“My aunt!” said Jack.

“Hallo, Coon, you’re about ready!”

“Yaas, sir,” said the negro.  “I’m almost through.”

“Brought the mittens with you, too?”

“Yaas, sir, I have the feather beds.”

“Then when you’ve peeled we’ll start.”

The Coon put down his spade and slipped behind a stall.

“You see, young ’un, the sergeant at the gym is a good old hand, but he is an old hand, so to speak—­hasn’t got the polish.  Seeing that at Aldershot they tie us down to a very few rounds, if St. Amory’s have to make any show at all they must get all the points they can first round or so.  That’s why I’ve got the Coon down here.  He is the most scientific boxer we have.”

“The figure will be pretty stiff, Acton, eh?”

“No matter about that if I can beat Jarvis.  By the way, Bourne, you need not say anything about this to any one.  I have particular reasons for keeping this quiet.”