"If we're lucky, the water will come in on its own hook at the other end." The theory was not exactly scientific, for scientific men do not believe in luck.

Still, it was the best we could think of as we turned to go.
"Stop a bit," said I, as we were leaving.

"May as well tidy up a bit in there before we go, eh ?" "In there" was the bed of the pond.
"It might look better," said Dick, turning up his trousers.

We decently interred the pistol in the mud, and raised a small heap of stones to keep it down; and then cautiously obliterating our footsteps in the mud, we made for _terra firma_, and scuttled back to school as fast as our legs would carry us.
Fortunately we entered unobserved, and disencumbered ourselves of our muddy boots without attracting attention to their condition.

Ten minutes later we were deep in our work in the big schoolroom.
Preparation that night was a solemn and gloomy ceremony.