OSWALD is a boy of firm and unswerving character, and he had never wavered from his first idea. He felt quite certain that the books were right, and that the best way to restore fallen fortunes was to rescue an old gentleman in distress. Then he brings you up as his own son: but if you preferred to go on being your own father’s son I expect the old gentleman would make it up to you some other way. In the books the least thing does it—you put up the railway carriage window—or you pick up his purse when he drops it—or you say a hymn when he suddenly asks you to, and then your fortune is made.

The others, as I said, were very slack about it, and did not seem to care much about trying the rescue. They said there wasn’t any deadly page: 154 peril, and we should have to make one before we could rescue the old gentleman from it, but Oswald didn’t see that that mattered. However, he thought he would try some of the easier ways first, by himself.

So he waited about the station, pulling up railway carriage windows for old gentlemen who looked likely—but nothing happened, and at last the porters said he was a nuisance. So that was no go. No one ever asked him to say a hymn, though he had learned a nice short one, beginning “New every morning”—and when an old gentleman did drop a two‐shilling piece just by Ellis’s the hairdresser’s, and Oswald picked it up, and was just thinking what he should say when he returned it, the old gentleman caught him by the collar and called him a young thief. It would have been very unpleasant for Oswald if he hadn’t happened to be a very brave boy, and knew the policeman on that beat very well indeed. So the policeman backed him up, and the old gentleman said he was sorry, and offered Oswald sixpence. Oswald refused it with polite disdain, and nothing more happened at all.

When Oswald had tried by himself and it had not come off, he said to the others, “We’re page: 155 wasting our time, not trying to rescue the old gentleman in deadly peril. Come—buck up! Do let’s do something!”

It was dinner‐time, and Pincher was going round getting the bits off the plates. There were plenty because it was cold‐mutton day. And Alice said—

“It’s only fair to try Oswald’s way—he has tried all the things the others thought of. Why couldn’t we rescue Lord Tottenham?”

Lord Tottenham is the old gentleman who walks over the Heath every day in a paper collar at three o’clock—and when he gets half way, if there is no one about, he changes his collar and throws the dirty one into the furze‐bushes.

Dicky said, “Lord Tottenham’s all right—but where’s the deadly peril?”

And we couldn’t think of any. There are no highwaymen on Blackheath now, I am sorry to say. And though Oswald said half of us could be highwaymen and the other half rescue party, Dora kept on saying it would be wrong to be a highwayman—and so we had to give that up.

Then Alice said, “What about Pincher?”

And we all saw at once that it could be done.
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Pincher is very well bred, and he does know one or two things, though we never could teach him to beg. But if you tell him to hold on—he will do it, even if you only say “Seize him!” in a whisper.

So we arranged it all. Dora said she wouldn’t play; she said she thought it was wrong, and she knew it was silly—so we left her out, and she went and sat in the dining‐room with a goody‐book, so as to be able to say she didn’t have anything to do with it, if we got into a row over it.

Alice and H.O. were to hide in the furze‐bushes just by where Lord Tottenham changes his collar, and they were to whisper, ’Seize him!” to Pincher; and then when Pincher had seized Lord Tottenham we were to go and rescue him from his deadly peril. And he would say, “How can I reward you, my noble young preservers?” and it would be all right.

So we went up to the Heath. We were afraid of being late. Oswald told the others what Procrastination was—so they got to the furze‐bushes a little after two o’clock, and it was rather cold. Alice and H.O. and Pincher hid, but Pincher did not like it any more than they did, and as we three walked up and down page: 157 we heard him whining. And Alice kept saying, “I am so cold! Isn’t he coming yet?” And H.O. wanted to come out and jump about to warm himself. But we told him he must learn to be a Spartan boy, and that he ought to be very thankful he hadn’t got a beastly fox eating his inside all the time. H.O. is our little brother, and we are not going to let it be our fault if he grows up a milksop. Besides, it was not really cold. It was his knees—he wears socks. So they stayed where they were. And at last, when even the other three who were walking about were beginning to feel rather chilly, we saw Lord Tottenham’s big black cloak coming along, flapping in the wind like a great bird. So we said to Alice—

“Hist! he approaches. You’ll know when to set Pincher on by hearing Lord Tottenham talking to himself—he always does while he is taking off his collar.”

Then we three walked slowly away whistling to show we were not thinking of anything. Our lips were rather cold, but we managed to do it.

Lord Tottenham came striding along, talking to himself. People call him the mad Protectionist. I don’t know what it means—but page: 158 I don’t think people ought to call a Lord such names.

As he passed us he said, “Ruin of the country, sir! Fatal error, fatal error!” And then we looked back and saw he was getting quite near where Pincher was, and Alice and H.O. We walked on—so that he shouldn’t think we were looking—and in a minute we heard Pincher’s bark, and then nothing for a bit; and then we looked round, and sure enough good old Pincher had got Lord Tottenham by the trouser leg and was holding on like billy‐oh, so we started to run.

Lord Tottenham had got his collar half off—it was sticking out sideways under his ear—and he was shouting, “Help, help, murder!” exactly as if some one had explained to him beforehand what he was to do. Pincher was growling and snarling and holding on. When we got to him I stopped and said—

“Dicky, we must rescue this good old man.”

Lord Tottenham roared in his fury, “Good old man be—” something or othered. “Call the dog off!”

So Oswald said, “It is a dangerous task—but who would hesitate to do an act of true bravery?”
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And all the while Pincher was worrying and snarling, and Lord Tottenham shouting to us to get the dog away. He was dancing about in the road with Pincher hanging on like grim death; and his collar flapping about, where it was undone.

Then No?l said, “Haste, ere yet it be too late.” So I said to Lord Tottenham—

“Stand still, aged sir, and I will endeavour to alleviate your distress.”

He stood still, and I stooped down and caught hold of Pincher and whispered, “Drop it, sir; drop it!”

So then Pincher dropped it, and Lord Tottenham fastened his collar again—he never does change it if there’s any one looking—and he said—

“I’m much obliged, I’m sure. Nasty vicious brute! Here’s s............