CHAPTER XIV.

THE CONSPIRACY.

“Well, Charley, my pipe is out,” said Tim Bunker, as he joined his late associate in the club.

“It was rather sudden,” replied Charles, disconcerted by the meeting, for he had actually made up his mind to keep out of Tim’s way.  “I didn’t expect any such thing.”

“I did; I knew old Sedley meant to get rid of me.”

Tim always knew everything after it was done.  He was a very profound prophet, but he had sense enough to keep his predictions to himself.

“You did not say so,” added Charles, who gave the Bunker credit for all the sagacity he claimed.

“It was no use; it would only have frightened you, and you are chickenish enough without any help.  But no matter, Charley; for my part, I am glad he turned me out.  He only saved me the trouble of getting out myself.”

“Did you really mean to leave?”

“To be sure I did.”

“What for?”

“Because I didn’t like the company, to say nothing of being nosed round by Frank Sedley, Bill Bright, or whoever happened to be coxswain.  If you had been coxswain, Charley, I wouldn’t minded it,” replied Tim, adroitly.

“But I wouldn’t nose the fellows round,” replied Charles, tickled with Tim’s compliment.

“I know you wouldn’t; but they wouldn’t make you the coxswain.  They hate you too much for that.”

“It is strange they haven’t elected me,” said Charles, musing.

“That’s a fact!  You know more about a boat than three quarters of them.”

“I ought to.”

“And you do.”

Charles had by this time forgotten the promise he had made to Captain Sedley—­forgotten the good resolution he had made to himself.  Tim’s flattery had produced its desired effect, and all the ground which the Bunker had lost was now regained.

“I am sorry they turned you out, Tim,” said he.

“I am glad of it.  They will turn you out next, Charley.”

“Me!”

“Yes.”

“Why should they?”

“Because they don’t like you.”

“They wouldn’t do that.”

“Don’t you believe it,” replied Tim, shaking his head, and putting on a very wise look.  “I’ll bet they’ll turn you out in less than a month.”

“Do you know anything about it?”

“Not much.”

They had now reached the end of the grove, and Tim suggested that they should take seats and “talk over matters.”  Charles readily assented, and they seated themselves by the margin of the lake.

“What do you know, Tim?” asked Charles, his curiosity very much excited.

“I only know that they don’t like you, and they mean to turn you out.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Do you mean to tell me I lie?”

“No, no; only I can’t think they would turn me out.”

“I heard Frank say as much,” replied Tim, indifferently.