"What a trump Scud is!" said one. "They won't come back here now."
"And that new boy, too; he must be a good-plucked one."
"Ah! wait till he has been tossed on to the floor; see how he'll like it
then!"
Meantime the procession went down the passage to Number 7, the largest
room, and the scene of the tossing, in the middle of which was a great
open space. Here they joined other parties of the bigger boys, each
with a captive or two, some willing to be tossed, some sullen, and some
frightened to death. At Walker's suggestion all who were afraid were let
off, in honour of Pater Brooke's speech.
Then a dozen big boys seized hold of a blanket, dragged from one of the
beds. "In with Scud; quick! there's no time to lose." East was chucked
into the blanket. "Once, twice, thrice, and away!" Up he went like a
shuttlecock, but not quite up to the ceiling.
"Now, boys, with a will," cried Walker; "once, twice, thrice, and away!"
This time he went clean up, and kept himself from touching the ceiling
with his hand, and so again a third time, when he was turned out, and
up went another boy. And then came Tom's turn. He lay quite still, by
East's advice, and didn't dislike the "once, twice, thrice;" but the
"away" wasn't so pleasant. They were in good wind now, and sent him
slap up to the ceiling first time, against which his knees came rather
sharply.
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