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Updated: June 1, 2025
He stared at his figures, tore them up and tried again. Six or eight times he worked the problem over, but always with the same result. The navigating officer, who had worked the thing out in two minutes, sat back in his chair and looked bored. You see, Dig's own eyes had told him that the ship was working north, and about five miles off the coast of New Jersey.
Every one knew that it was our event the second the spurt began, and when he got up to the tape and `4.42' was shouted out, it was a sight to see the state we were in. It's the best mile we ever did at Grandcourt, and even Smedley, though he was a bit riled, I fancy, at his licking, said he couldn't have done it in the time if he'd tried. "I send you Dig's programme, with the times all marked.
If Railsford asks where I am, tell him I'm walking home. You can go with him on the tandem. I'll be home as soon as you." At the same moment a shout from below of "Herapath!" "Oakshott!" still further hastened Dig's descent to terra firma. "Come on," said Railsford, who was already seated on the tricycle, "it's coming on to rain. Where's Herapath?" "Oh, he's walking home.
It was Dig's opinion that only wild beasts were ever put into cages, and there was nothing yet to prove that the pretty lady was one of these. But Rug clung to his idea for the reason possibly that he had no other. He defended it with much subtlety.
The messenger returned to report that Mr Railsford was not in, and no one knew where he was gone. Then, the hue and cry being once raised, it appeared that Arthur and Dig's study was also empty and that its owners were nowhere to be found.
"Here they are!" yelled Arthur, waving to his chum; "spotted them first shot! Go on, Simson, cut your sticks off this step; these are all my people in here. How are you? Dig's here; we've got a cab. Fetch up some of our porters, Dig, I say." Amid such effusive greetings Mr and Mrs Herapath and Miss Daisy Herapath alighted and fell into the arms or rather, civilly shook hands with their son.
"The doctor must deal with this matter, Mills," said Railsford sternly. "You must go to him to-morrow evening." "Oh, Mr Railsford, he'll expel me!" howled the culprit. "Good job, too," ejaculated Dig, sotto voce. "Possibly," said the master. "Where is the money?" Dig's spirits rose. He knew he would get his rights! "The stamps here, sir," said the wretched Mills, going to his desk.
But, without being a prophet, his prigship managed on the present occasion to make a pretty near prediction, for Sir Digby Oakshott did burn his fingers. He was summoned one evening to Mills's study to draw his horse. The twenty-one names were shaken up in a hat, and those present each drew out one. To Dig's disgust, he drew Blazer a horse whom everybody jeered at as a rank outsider.
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