He had made up his mind on this point in the train. There is a certain
fascination about making the very worst of a bad job. Achilles knew
his business when he sat in his tent. The determination not to play
cricket for Sedleigh as he could not play for Wrykyn gave Mike a sort
of pleasure. To stand by with folded arms and a sombre frown, as it
were, was one way of treating the situation, and one not without its
meed of comfort.
Psmith approved the resolve.
"Stout fellow," he said. "'Tis well. You and I, hand in hand, will
search the countryside for ruined abbeys. We will snare the elusive
fossil together. Above all, we will go out of bounds. We shall thus
improve our minds, and have a jolly good time as well. I shouldn't
wonder if one mightn't borrow a gun from some friendly native, and do
a bit of rabbit-shooting here and there. From what I saw of Comrade
Outwood during our brief interview, I shouldn't think he was one of
the lynx-eyed contingent. With tact we ought to be able to slip away
from the merry throng of fossil-chasers, and do a bit on our own
account."
"Good idea," said Mike. "We will. A chap at Wrykyn, called Wyatt, used
to break out at night and shoot at cats with an air-pistol."
"It would take a lot to make me do that. I am all against anything
that interferes with my sleep.
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