LITMIR.BIZ

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promised Queen Mab that we wouldn't be very late," said Valentine, "so I should think we'd better have tea at once; it'll take some time to make the water boil."

      There is always some special charm about having tea out of doors, even when the spout of the kettle gets unsoldered, or black beetles invade the tablecloth. To share one teaspoon between three, and spread jam with the handle-end of it, is most enjoyable, and people who picnic with a full allowance of knives and forks to each person ought never to be allowed to take meals in the open. Jack and Valentine set about collecting stones to build a fireplace, and there being plenty of dry driftwood about, they soon had a good blaze for boiling the water. The girls busied themselves unpacking the provisions; but Raymond Fosberton was content to sit on the bank and throw pebbles into the river.

      The repast ended, the kettle and dishes were once more stowed away in the boat, and Valentine proposed climbing the cliff.

      "It looks very steep," said Helen.

      "There's a path over there by those bushes," answered her brother. "Come along; we'll haul you up somehow."

      The ascent was made in single file, and half-way up the party paused to get their breath.

      "Hallo!" cried Jack, "there's a magpie."

      On a narrow ledge of rock and earth at the summit of the cliff two tall fir-trees were growing, and out of the top of one of these the bird had flown. The children stood and watched it, with its long tail and sharp contrast of black and white feathers, as it sailed away across the river.

      "One for sorrow," said Helen.

      "I shouldn't like to climb that tree," said Valentine. "It makes my head swim to look at it, leaning out like that over the precipice."

      "Pooh!" answered Raymond; "that's nothing. I've climbed up trees in much worse places before now."

      Helen frowned, and turned away with an impatient twitch of her lips.

      Jack saw the look. "All right, Master Fosberton," he said to himself; "you wait a minute."

      They continued their climb, and reaching the level ground above strolled along until they came opposite the tall tree out of which the magpie had flown.

      "There's the nest!" cried Jack, pointing at something half hidden in the dark foliage of the fir. "Now, then, who'll go up and get it?"

      "No one, I should think," said Helen. "If you fell, you'd go right down over the cliff and be dashed to pieces."

      "I know I wouldn't try," added her brother. "I should turn giddy in a moment."

      "Will you go?" asked Jack, addressing Raymond.

      "No," answered the other.

      "Why, I thought you said a moment ago that you've climbed trees in much worse places. Come, if you'll go up, I will."

      "Not I," retorted Raymond sulkily; "it's too much fag."

      "Oh, well, if you're afraid, I'll go up alone."

      "Don't be such a fool, Jack," said Valentine; "there won't be any eggs or young birds in the nest now."

      "Never mind; I should like to have a look at it."

      Fenleigh J. of the Upper Fourth was a young gentleman not easily turned from his purpose, and, in spite of Valentine's warning and the entreaties of his girl cousins, he lowered himself down on to the ledge, and the next moment was buttoning his coat preparatory to making the attempt.

      For the first twelve or fifteen feet the trunk of the fir afforded no good hold, but Jack swarmed up it, clinging to the rough bark and the stumps of a few broken branches. The spectators held their breath; but the worst was soon passed, and in a few seconds more he had gained the nest.

      "There's nothing in it," he cried; "but there's a jolly good view up here, and, I say, if you want a good, high dive into the river, this is the place. Come on, Raymond; it's worth the fag."

      "Oh, do come down!" exclaimed Helen. "It frightens me to watch you." She turned away, and began picking moon daisies, when suddenly an exclamation from Valentine caused her to turn round again.

      "Hallo! what's the matter?"

      Jack had just begun to slip down the bare trunk, but about a quarter way down he seemed to have stuck.

      "My left foot's caught somehow," he said. "I can't get it free."

      He twitched his leg, and endeavoured to regain the lower branches, but it was no good.

      "Oh, do come down!" cried Helen, clasping her hands and turning pale. "Can't any one help him?"

      Jack struggled vainly to free his foot.

      "Look here," he said in a calm though strained tone, "my boot-lace is loose, and has got entangled with one of these knots; one of you chaps must come up and cut it free. Make haste, I can't hang on much longer."

      Valentine turned to Raymond.

      "You can climb," he said; "I can't."

      "I'm not going up there," answered the other doggedly, and turned on his heel.

      Valentine wheeled round with a fierce look upon his face, threw off his coat, took out his knife, opened it, and put it between his teeth.

      "O Val!" cried Helen in a choking voice, and hid her face in her hands. Only Barbara had the strength of nerve to watch him do it, and could give a clear account afterwards of how her brother swarmed up the trunk, and held on with one arm while he cut the tangled lace. Valentine himself knew very little of what happened until he found himself back on the grass with Helen's arms round his neck.

      "I thought you couldn't climb," said Jack, a minute later.

      "It's possible to do most things when it comes to a case like that," answered the other quietly. "Besides, I remembered not to look down."

      That sort of answer didn't suit Fenleigh J.; he caught hold of the speaker, and smacked him on the back.

      "Look here, Valentine, the truth is you're a jolly fine fellow, and I never knew it until this moment."

      The party strolled on across the field.

      "It's precious hot still," said Raymond; "let's go and sit under that hayrick and rest."

      "We mustn't stay very long," Helen remarked as they seated themselves with their backs against the rick. "We want to be home in time for supper."

      "We can stay long enough for a smoke, I suppose," said Fosberton, producing a cigarette case. "Have one. What! don't you chaps smoke? Well," continued the speaker patronizingly, "you're quite right; it's a bad habit to get into. Leave it till you've left school."

      "And then, when you smoke before ladies," added Helen, "ask their permission first."

      "Oh, we haven't come here to learn manners," said Raymond, with a snort.

      "So it appears," returned the lady icily.

      Fenleigh J., who had been smarting under that "Leave it till you've left school," chuckled with delight, and began to think that he liked Helen quite as much as Barbara.

      At length, when Raymond had finished his cigarette, the voyagers rose to return to the boat. Jack enlivened the descent of the cliff by every dozen yards or so pretending to fall, and starting avalanches of stones and earth, which were very disconcerting to those who went before. On arriving at the shingly beach, he proposed a trial of skill at ducks and drakes, and made flat pebbles go hopping right across the river, until Valentine put an end to the performance by saying it was time to embark. The girls were just stepping into the boat when Helen gave an exclamation of surprise.

      "Look!" she cried, pointing towards the top of the cliff, "where can all that smoke be coming from?"

      "It's a heap of rubbish burning in one of the fields," said Raymond.

      "There's too much smoke for that," said Jack. "It may be a barn or a house. Wait a moment; I'll run up and see. I shan't be more than five or six minutes." He started off, jumping and scrambling up the path; but almost immediately on reaching the summit he turned and came racing down again.

      "What a reckless

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