The plot was saved; but the plotters saw that a great deal of immoral scheming was required to keep it up, and that, after all, it was a volcano which might at any moment—not exactly “hurl them to destruction,” but tear itself to pieces.

[320]

The time and place of meeting were then appointed, and all the boys departed for their respective homes; all excepting Will and Stephen, who lingered to escort Henry.

As soon as the homeward-bound party was out of sight, the latter slid down from his perch, stretched himself with many a groan, and readjusted the knight-errant’s sun-bonnet, as, the plot being now so near completion, he was very anxious to take every precaution.

“Well,” he growled, “it took you a mighty long time to arrange matters; and that tree is the most abominably uncomfortable and hard-hearted tree that I ever saw. Boys,” dolefully, “I don’t like this hiding around in strayed forest trees, and it is a good thing you persuaded him not to wait till next week, for I couldn’t have kept out of his sight so long.”

“Well, what do you think of him!” Will asked eagerly.

“Oh, he is as much like a musket as a boy,” Henry replied indifferently. “But,” with some show of interest, “what did he mean by wanting to sail out on the raft, just to get the bottle?”

“Oh,” said Will, “Marmaduke thinks if it is worth while to do anything, it is worth while to do it with great ceremony. If the raft had been where he supposed it was, and if we had let him alone, he would have spent half an hour floating around after the bottle, and very likely have got as wet as if he had gone in swimming for it with his clothes on!”

After digesting this explanation, Henry proposed that they also should go home. Will and Stephen were agreed, and the trio slunk off towards the village as fearfully as if a minion of the law were in hot pursuit. Now that their plot was an accomplished fact, it would be very unfortunate if they should be caught napping.

After supper Henry was joined by Stephen, and the two archplotters set out for “Nobody’s House” in the most exuberant spirits. Already Henry felt a little tired, (let it be remembered that he had not yet recovered from the effects of the preceding day’s journey,) and he was obliged to get Stephen to carry a mysterious-looking[321] bundle which he had brought away from his aunt’s. This bundle contained the fantastic “disguise” in which Henry was to figure as Sauterelle.

From the tender age of two years, Stephen had been a regular attendant of picnics, where he had imbibed many extravagant notions, and arrived at a very boyish and extremely absurd conclusion respecting lovers. According to his views, a lover is a young man, who, after perfuming his handkerchief and smearing his head with hair-oil, escorts a young lady to a picnic, breaks her parasol, fails to provide ice-cream enough, and finally sees her escorted home under the protection of his hated rival.

“Henry,” he said, as they hurried on, “I saw Marmaduke tricked out for the rescue, and, he didn’t mean me to find it out, but I did; he had put hair-oil on his head, and, as he had no scent, on his handkerchief, too! Henry, I was so—so—”

“Demoralized?”

“That’s the word, Henry. I was so demoralized that I said, without thinking: ‘why, Marmaduke,’ said I, ‘you look more like a genuine lover than any boy I ever saw!’”

“And what did he say to that?”

“Nothing; but he looked so insulted and heart-broken that I apologized, and told him he was a bully boy, and I always was a fool, anyway. Well, Henry, when he comes to the rescue, things will be lively, according to that, eh?”

“Well, Steve, I once cured a brave boy of his bravery, and if I don’t cure this fellow of his romance and credulousness, I shall at least make awful fools of us both.”

“How did you cure a boy of being brave?” Stephen asked eagerly, regarding Henry with respect and admiration.

But here the writer remorselessly shifts the scene to the others.

As soon after the departure of Henry and Stephen as was prudent, the “brave men” who were to be the rescuers—Will, Charles, George, Jim, and the heroic[322] “leader,” Marmaduke—assembled and set out for the rendezvous, armed very much as Stephen had suggested.

Visions of figuring on future battle-fields of Europe as Marshal Marmaduke Fitz-Williams flitted through the hero’s brain, and he strove to deport himself with as martial an air as possible. But such an air hardly ever sits easy on a school-boy’s shoulders.

“Comrades,” he began, using, as far as he knew how, the identical phraseology of a French soldier when addressing his companions in arms, “comrades, we are embarking in a hazardous undertaking, but the nobleness of our work will spur us on to deeds of victory. It is a noble deed that we are called on to perform—the release of a daughter of one of the potentates of earth! Let this thought inspire us with enthusiasm! Let us fly to the rescue, fixed in the resolution to win or die! We shall warrior like the doughty knights of old!”

Poor hero! he had yet to learn that warrior is not used in that way. His eloquence, however, was entirely lost on his hearers, it being too grandiloquent for even the Sage to appreciate; and like many another orator, he but “wasted his sweetness on the desert air.”

“Fellow-soldiers,” he continued, “I will use my influence to procure your promotion, and you will all one day be renowned generals of the empire.”

Alas! about the time the speaker took to singing love-songs and reading love-stories t............