the big room in which the speech-days and prize-distributions were held was always open to any of the foxes who fancied themselves as entertainers. many odd concert-parties had aired their graces there, sometimes to full "houses" at the commencement and empty chairs before the end.

always brimful of confidence in himself, robin arkness had never a doubt that his variety-show would eclipse every entertainment previously staged at foxenby.

with bland assurance he issued special invitations to all the masters, not excepting old man wykeham himself, and made every preparation for a record "house", firmly believing that only those foxes who were temporarily in hospital would be absent on this great occasion.

"my main fear is that there won't be seats for all," he confided to his merry men, an hour before the commencement. "some of you chaps had better slip into the corridor and arrange the first comers into a queue, as the policemen do outside the theatres. we don't want a pancake scramble when the doors are opened."

"i'll bob out and see how they're rolling up," said david of doncaster.

"'rolling up' is hardly the right term," he reported, when he came back. "there isn't a soul about."

"what!" shouted robin, disbelieving his ears.

"you could shoot a cannon-ball down the corridor without fear of hitting anybody," dave declared.

"rot, dave! you're an owl—you're a bat—no, you're neither, for you can't see in the dark, you chump. the corridor ought to be packed like a sardine-tin."

"ought to be, perhaps, but isn't. go and see for yourself, robin."

"doesn't matter—haven't time," said robin, with dignity. "don't talk so much, dave, but freeze on to the other end of this table. help me to turn it upside down. we don't want any of those beastly squirms dancing a cellar-flap on it during the performance."

this was no high-class concert hall, where the performers strode elegantly in by the side-door at starting-time. there was hard work for each perspiring member of the troupe.

chairs had to be collected from all parts of the school, oil-lamps had to be filled and lighted (for at moorland foxenby there was no such luxury as electric light or gas), and the big palms had to be carried from the conservatory to give the stage a classical appearance. then, to complicate matters, tom jaye, known as the "tinker", misplaced the music which had been entrusted to him as accompanist on the school piano.

"think, you chump; where did you have the stuff last?" will scarlet demanded impatiently.

"if i knew that, idiot, couldn't i go straight to it without asking anybody?"

"i suppose you've been making a fire with it to warm your nose," commented david of doncaster.

the tinker had a little nose like a scarlet button, and this personal remark did not serve to sweeten him.

"play your own silly old music," he remarked. "i shan't!"

"you mean you can't, having torn it up for a paper-chase or something."

"stop barging, you chaps," said robin, "and hustle round to find the missing sheets. it'll be time to start shortly."

he split them up into search-parties, and with frantic haste they explored every nook and cranny of the building. useless! at the time fixed for the opening of the door nothing of the missing music had been seen by anybody.

"tinker, they knew something about you when they called you jaye," robin panted, half-ironically, half-despairingly. "you're not only a jaye but a cuckoo as well. there's no help for it. you and miller will have to do duty on the mouth-organ and the whistle."

the tinker grabbed nervously at his inside pocket. then he looked wildly around at the merry men.

"by jove!" he gasped. "i wonder where my mouth-organ is? somebody must have pinched it. it's a squirmish trick!"

"you're the silliest ass ever, tinker. have another look, man, quick! that's the pocket it ought to be in."

robin slapped the pocket indicated and drew from the tinker's chest a crackling sound.

"what's that you've got across your chest, tinker?" he asked. "a sheet of tin?"

then over the tinker's features there spread a smile that was sickly to look upon.

"golly, i remember now," he said. "mother always warned me to beware of catching cold. i felt shivery after to-day's rehearsal and stuffed the music under my vest to keep my chest warm. here it is!"

they called him anything but pet names as he shamefacedly produced the music, but their chief feeling was one of amused relief. it could hardly have been expected that the audience would have taken seriously ballads sung to the strains of a tin-whistle.

"all of you get behind the curtain for the opening chorus," robin commanded, "while i throw the doors open and admit the surging crowd."

to his surprise and disappointment, however, the crowd did no surging. it entered casually in twos and threes, and showed an almost unanimous desire to occupy the chairs farthest away from the stage.

"plenty of room in front!" robin called out.

"all serene!" somebody answered. "don't care to be too near, thanks: rather afraid of earache."

"besides," said another wag, "some faces, seen close, are a strain."

"heard say that the opening chorus is a rattling good imitation of a cat-fight in the shrubbery," remarked a third boy. "that's why i came early."

observations such as these, from an audience far scantier than he had expected, would have depressed any other stage-manager than robin. but nothing, it seemed, could quench the sunshine in the heart of the merry men's leader.

"if, after the show, any of you gentlemen are dissatisfied, you shall have back whatever money you paid at the door," he told them, airily.

ten seconds later he was on the stage, with the curtain up and the performance in full swing.

"hail, ye merry men" was not, perhaps, an operatic number, yet it had plenty of "kick" in it and was sung to a tune everybody knew. moreover, through it all there rang the rich alto of allan a dale, whose voice would have redeemed any chorus from the commonplace. it bore down the derisive laughter of the critics in the audience, and won from some of the quieter ones a fair round of hand-clapping.

sung with an enthusiasm that carried it to almost every part of the school, it served also as an advertisement, reminding the boys that something was afoot. chessmen were bundled into boxes, darts were left sticking in boards, and there was a fairly general exodus from the play-room to the play-house. robin, peeping through the side-curtains during allan a dale's solo (which, unluckily, was somewhat marred by the tramping of feet), observed with pride that the captain of foxenby had entered with the prefect of rooke's house, closely followed by luke harwood, broome, and other sixth form boys of both houses.

all chose seats as far back as they could get, but most of them were in time to applaud allan a dale, who, under less disturbing conditions, would doubtless have taken an encore.

"i'll nip down the steps and lock the door, before we start the riddles," said robin. "otherwise the clumping of feet will spoil the fun."

how heartily he wished, a moment later, that this thought had occurred to him earlier! before he could put it into execution the squirms entered in a body, saw the empty seats, and noisily took possession of them. then, chattering like rooks in a tree, they settled down to watch, if not to listen.

"just what i most feared," said little john, moodily. "now we shall have them gaping at us like stuffed fish all the time."

"don't get stage-fright about it, chaps," robin urged. "they'll not dare to fly at us while the captain and both prefects are here. fancy they're off the earth!"

signs of impatience on the other side of the curtain caused him to bustle his merry men on to the stage for the next item. just as he had hoped and believed, the riddles took the fancy of the mixed audience. forge's jolly laugh was early noticeable; harwood clapped heartily and several times called out "good!" even solemn old lyon chuckled now and then, and only roger cayton kept a fairly straight face.

"can't think why you don't laugh, roger, old man," dick said. "funny as a circus, i call it."

"they're comical kids, right enough," roger admitted.

"i was thinking more of the riddles than of them. all-round leg-pullers! flashes of real wit, and so topical. that riddle about fluffy jim, for instance—would you have guessed it? i shouldn't in a blue moon."

"they've got the audience tickled, anyhow," commented roger.

said harwood behind them, in dulcet tones: "wonderful stuff for such young 'uns to put together, eh, forge? we must look to our laurels!"

"undoubtedly," forge agreed. "it's first-class skitting, free from any malice. let's give them a jolly good cheer at the finish."

"beware of distending their skulls," roger grunted. "junior 'swelled-head' is a troublesome disease."

they brushed aside his warning laughingly, and led the applause when the last saucy conundrum had been asked and answered. it was then observed, for the first time, that both housemasters were standing by the door, laughing and clapping as heartily as anyone. even if nothing else happened to-night, robin's concert was already an assured success.

songs and recitations of a mirthful kind rounded up the first part of the programme, the merry men making up in enthusiasm for what they lacked in vocal talent. the squirms, however jealous they might be, had perforce to squat there as quietly as sheep in a field. they could only show their pent-up feelings by wriggling uneasily and yawning frequently.

the ten minutes' interval gave them the opportunity of escaping had they been so minded. instead, they clung to their seats and ate oranges, apples, and nuts, saving the shells of the nuts in the hope of using them as missiles later on, perhaps, when the masters and the prefects had departed.

"quick work and no waiting" was robin's stage motto. well inside the ten minutes he had the curtain up again, displaying to view a very creditable imitation of sherwood forest, painted on canvas by some of his more artistic merry men.

for the words of his play he depended on a two-penny book, selected because of its cheapness, so that every performer could, when learning his part, thumb a copy of his own if he chose.

there was a good deal of "knave and varlet" about the dialogue, but actions speak louder than words, and some very fine bouts of quarter-staff, varied by vigorous wrestling exhibitions, provided so much amusement that the melodramatic nature of the words was easily overlooked.

the cudgels were made of cardboard, warranted to give nobody a headache, which was lucky, for in the course of fifteen minutes robin had six bouts with sundry adventurers, felling them all to earth in turn.

it was a part which suited him to perfection, and none of his merry men grudged him the largest share of the limelight, for he had worked far harder than any of them to ensure the success of the play. there were no pauses in the ding-dong little performance, which looked like proceeding to a triumphant conclusion when a startling incident occurred.

it happened almost immediately after the two house-masters, the captain, and the prefects had quietly left the room to attend a meeting.

robin hood and friar tuck were hammering merrily at each other with stout wooden swords, when one of the oil-lamps above them was suddenly put out of action by a direct hit from an apple.

intent on the performance, none of the merry men on or off the stage noticed who hurled the apple, but everybody saw the flare as the burning oil ran swiftly along the stage and ignited the flimsy scenery.

"sherwood forest" was in a blaze immediately, and there were all the makings of a stampeding fire-panic if prompt action were not taken.

"down with the curtain!" cried robin. "rush to the front, dave, and tell them to keep calm. say we've got it under—we shall have in half a tick. little john, fetch the fire-extinguisher beside the back door."

without thinking of the risk he ran of singeing the hair off his head, he dragged some of the canvas away from the running fire, and then tried to beat out the flames with his sword. his cool, quick example inspired others, who tore away anything that might have become involved in the fire. little john's return with the fire-extinguisher settled matters. when the contents of that had been sprayed upon the blaze, nothing but smoke and smell remained of what might have been a very serious conflagration.

"that's a part of the performance that wasn't in the bill," said robin. "jove, how my heart thumps! i really thought we should all be burnt alive! what started it, chaps? i wasn't looking."

"this started it," said little john, picking up a hard russet apple, which had rolled into a corner. "some bounder in front chucked it at the lamp."

"or possibly at me," robin said, "and hit the lamp instead. don't let's make more than a silly trick of it, or the masters may hear about it, and there'll be such a row as never was. the show's over for to-night, anyhow. what a thundering mess to clear up!"

"beastly shame we should have it to do," grumbled will scarlet. "it's pretty certain one of the squirms threw the apple. why not bring them in to swab the deck?"

"good idea!" agreed robin. "we could threaten to tell the prefects if they didn't."

just then dave came back, vastly relieved to find the fire out, for he had been too briskly occupied in front to give a hand in quenching it.

"those cowardly squirms would have rushed out like rabbits if i hadn't shamed them into leaving quietly. they've all cleared off, but some of the other chaps are waiting about to see if you need any help."

"tell them they can hop it, dave; everything's safe," said robin. "ask 'em to keep their mouths shut, though, to avoid any fuss. later on, we'll find out who threw that apple and settle the score!"