never failed to wipe out debts in the long run, so it was their interest to make us feel they knew us to be gentlemen, who were at some time or other sure to pay, and thus also they operated on our consciences.  From which it followed that one title of superiority among us, ranking next in the order of nobility to the dignity conferred by Mr. Rippenger’s rod, was the being down in their books.  Temple and I walked in the halo of unlimited credit like more than mortal twins.  I gave an order for four bottles of champagne.

On the Friday evening Catman walked out with us.  His studious habits endeared him to us immensely, owing to his having his head in his book on all occasions, and a walk under his superintendence was first cousin to liberty.  Some boys roamed ahead, some lagged behind, while Catman turned over his pages, sounding the return only when it grew dark.  The rumour of the champagne had already intoxicated the boys.  There was a companion and most auspicious rumour that Boddy was going to be absent on Saturday.  If so, we said, we may drink our champagne under Catman’s nose and he be none the wiser.  Saddlebank undertook to manage our feast for us.  Coming home over the downs, just upon twilight, Temple and I saw Saddlebank carrying a long withy upright.  We asked him what it was for.  He shouted back:  ‘It’s for fortune.  You keep the rear guard.’  Then we saw him following a man and a flock of geese, and imitating the action of the man with his green wand.  As we were ready to laugh at anything Saddlebank did, we laughed at this.  The man walked like one half asleep, and appeared to wake up now and then to find that he was right in the middle of his geese, and then he waited, and Saddlebank waited behind him.  Presently the geese passed a lane leading off the downs.  We saw Saddlebank duck his wand in a coaxing way, like an angler dropping his fly for fish; he made all sorts of curious easy flourishes against the sky and branched up the lane.  We struck after him, little suspecting that he had a goose in front, but he had; he had cut one of the loiterers off from the flock; and to see him handle his wand on either side his goose, encouraging it to go forward, and remonstrating, and addressing it in bits of Latin, and the creature pattering stiff and astonished, sent us in a dance of laughter.

‘What have you done, old Saddle?’ said Temple, though it was perfectly clear what Saddlebank had done.

‘I’ve carved off a slice of Michaelmas,’ said Saddlebank, and he hewed the air to flick delicately at his goose’s head.

‘What do you mean—­a slice?’ said we.

We wanted to be certain the goose was captured booty.  Saddlebank would talk nothing but his fun.  Temple fetched a roaring sigh: 

’Oh! how good this goose ‘d be with our champagne.’

The idea seized and enraptured me.  ’Saddlebank, I ‘ll buy him off you,’ I said.

‘Chink won’t flavour him,’ said Saddlebank, still at his business:  ’here, you two, cut back by the down and try all your might to get a dozen apples before Catman counts heads at the door, and you hold your tongues.’