promptitude and bravery.

"What is the matter, Mr Trematon?" asked the Head, who could not fail to notice the Scoutmaster's ejaculation of astonishment.

"I happen to know Sir Silas, sir," he replied. "He was a friend of my father's. Only the day before yesterday he wrote to me."

"And how is Sir Silas?" asked the Rev. Septimus, addressing the policeman.

"Getting along finely, sir, considering he's not a young man by any means."

"And his assailants?"

"No trace of them, sir. One of our men found these articles of clothing and took them to the station. A letter addressed to Master Atherton was in one of the pockets, so the Inspector sent me here to make enquiries. Is this the lad, sir?"

"That is Atherton, constable."

"Look here, young gentleman, can you give us any information as to what occurred?"

The Scout accurately described the appearance of the two men whom he saw commit the assault. The policeman, hardly able to conceal his surprise at the detailed description, laboriously wrote the particulars in his notebook; the Head was also surprised at his pupil's sense of perception. Only Mr Trematon maintained a composed bearing. Inwardly he was proud that his instruction in scoutcraft had borne such good fruit.

"Let me see," remarked the Rev. Septimus. "Atherton is, I believe, a—er—Scout?"

"Yes, sir," assented the Scoutmaster.

"He ought to be a detective, sir," observed the constable. "Only it's a great pity he didn't inform us at once. We might have nabbed those rascals."

"He quite realises that," said the Head. "One thing, he has been the means of saving life under very trying circumstances. The capture of the assailants is, after all, a secondary matter. Trematon, you ought to be proud of your Scouts if they are all like this one."

"I trust they will prove themselves equal to the occasion should necessity arise, sir," replied the Scoutmaster.

CHAPTER IV

OFF TO SEAL ISLAND

"You'll be sure to get the Bronze Cross, Dick," exclaimed his chum, Phil Green, as he paused in his work of varnishing a tail-board to critically admire his handiwork.

"Don't talk rot," replied Atherton, for the congratulations of his fellow-scouts were beginning to be embarrassing. "Don't talk rot, and get on with your work. We've only four clear days, and this trek-cart is nothing like finished."

The lads were hard at work in the old gym. The place reeked of elm sawdust and varnish, for sixteen Scouts were all busily engaged in constructing a cart.

"What did it feel like when you jumped of the bridge?" asked Fred Simpson, the Leader of the "Wolves."

"I cannot explain; I simply dropped," replied Atherton. "Perhaps if I had hesitated, I might have funked it. But dry up, you fellows, I've had enough. Come on, Baker, are those linchpins finished yet?"

"The papers made a pretty fine story about you, Dick," said Green, returning to the charge. "'The Scout and the Baronet,' the report was headed. Funny that it was Sir Silas Gwinnear you rescued, wasn't it?"

"You'll be funnier still if you don't hurry up with that coat of varnish," exclaimed the Leader, with mock severity. "Stick to it, man; we want to be able to show Mr Trematon something by the time he returns."

Just then Jellyboy stalked in.

"Mr Atherton, you're wanted at once in the Head's study."

Atherton hurriedly washed his hands, smoothed his hair and donned his blazer over his Scout's uniform. It was the custom for the lads to wear their uniform during their work in the gym., after "prep." was over; but for the first time on record was a Scout in full war-paint summoned to see the Head. The Rev. Septimus took particular pains to avoid sending for any of his pupils except when in their ordinary clothes; but on this occasion the warning was evidently urgent.

"Come in," said the Head, briskly. "Atherton, this is Sir Silas Gwinnear."

The Scout could hardly recognise the stranger as the same person he had rescued. Sir Silas under ordinary everyday conditions was a tall, thin-featured man with grey hair and beard. He bore the stamp of a self-made merchant, for he was somewhat showily dressed, an obtrusive gold watch-chain of old-fashioned make with a heavy seal, a massive signet ring and a thick scarf-pin being the outward signs of his opulence. His manner was pompous; but in his deep-set grey eyes there lurked the suspicion of a kindly nature.

"Ah, good evening, Atherton," exclaimed the Baronet, rising and shaking the Scout's hand. "I am out and about, you see, thanks to your bravery, my dear young sir. I took the first opportunity of calling and thanking you personally for what you have done for me."

"I only did my duty, sir."

"And did it well, too, I declare. To get to the point, Atherton: I am a man of few words, but you will not find me ungrateful. If at any future time I can be of assistance to you don't hesitate to ask. I flatter myself that I have a fair share of influence. Meanwhile I don't suppose you will object to having a little pocket-money. School-boys, I believe, are always fond of tuck."

So saying, Sir Silas thrust his hand deep into his trousers' pocket and fished out a fistful of gold and silver coins. From these he selected five sovereigns and offered them to his youthful rescuer.

Atherton drew himself erect.

"No, thank you, sir," he said firmly but politely. "I cannot take the money."

"Cannot take the money!" repeated Sir Silas, hardly able to credit his sense of hearing. "Why not?"

"I am a Scout, sir, and a Scout is not allowed to receive any reward for doing a good turn."

"A Scout! Bless my soul, so you are!" exclaimed the Baronet, as his eyes noticed for the first time the lad's knotted handkerchief showing above his buttoned-up blazer, and his bare knees. "I am afraid I am not in sympathy with the Scout movement," he added bluntly.

"We have recently formed a troop as a kind of experiment," explained the Rev. Septimus, apologetically. "But I must admit, Sir Silas, that I have had no reason up to the present to regret my decision in granting Scouts to be enrolled from my pupils."

"Atherton's refusal to take a small present surprises me," said the Baronet. "Is that rule strictly adhered to?"

"I know very little about the rules and regulations of Scoutcraft," replied the Head. "Perhaps Atherton can answer your question."

"Well, is it?" asked Sir Silas abruptly. "Yes, sir," replied the Scout, rather relieved to find that the conversation had turned into a channel that was more to his liking than being the object of embarrassing congratulations.

"H'm. The upkeep of the movement costs money, I suppose. How do you manage? I always thought Scouts cadged to meet their expenses."

"No, sir, we are not allowed to cadge. That is also against regulations. We are self-supporting."

"How?"

"To take our own case, sir, all our pocket-money is paid into the troop funds at the beginning of the term. We have to be thrifty, that is also an obligation. We all do something to add to the funds."

"I gave the permission, Sir Silas," remarked the Head. "In a commercial training school like Collingwood College I think that judiciously supervised earnings tend to develop commercial instincts and teach lads the value of money at an age when they are apt to disregard it."

"That is so," agreed the baronet. "'Take care of the pence,' you know. But suppose, Atherton, a sum of money was presented to the