Billy Bunter of Greyfriars School and Billy Bunter's ... Read Free Page B

remarked Bob Cherry.
“You fat brigand, that’s Smithy’s jam.”
“Tain’t!” roared Bunter. “Think I’d touch Smithy’s jam? I never knew Smithy had
jam—I never saw Gosling hand him the parcel, and never knew he had a parcel at
all, and it certainly wasn’t in his study when I looked. Besides, I haven’t
been to his study. Will you let a fellow pass? I’ve got to see Quelch—I mean
Wingate—that is, the Head—they’re waiting—I mean, he’s waiting—I mean—.”
“Hallo, hallo, hallo!” roared Bob Cherry, as another junior appeared on the
lower staircase, coming up. “This way, Smithy, old man.”
Herbert Vernon-Smith glanced up at the group on the middle landing.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Daylight raid!” answered Bob. “If you had a pot of jam in your study, you’d
better cut along and see if it’s still there.”
“What?” Smithy joined the group on the middle landing, and his eye went at once
to the bulge under Bunter’s jacket. “You fat villain! Have you been bagging my
jam?”
“No!” gasped Bunter. “I haven’t got anything under my jacket, Smithy—I mean,
it’s a bottle of ink. I’m taking it down to the Rag, to—to fill the inkpot. I
say, you fellows, let a fellow pass.”
“If you’ve bagged my plum jam—!”
“I—I haven’t, old chap! This bottle of ink is apricot jam—I—I mean, this jar of
apricot is ink bottle—I—I mean—.” Billy Bunter was getting a little mixed.
“Look here, you cut along to your study, Smithy, and you’ll see your jar of jam
on the table, just where you left it. You fellows go with him—!”
“Ha, ha, ha!”
“I’m just taking this bottle of jam down to the Rag to fill Quelch—I—I mean,
I’m taking this jar of rag down to Quelch to see the Head—. Ow! Leggo my neck,
you beast!” howled Bunter, as the Bounder of Greyfriars grasped him. “I tell
you I haven’t got your jam. I don’t believe you had any jam. There wasn’t any
in your study when I looked, and I left it on the table, too. If you can’t take
a fellow’s word—. Leggo!”
Shake! shake! shake!
Vernon-Smith had a sinewy arm. He shook Bunter, and shook him again and again,
and the fat Owl sagged in his grasp, like a plump jelly.
Shake! shake!
“Ooooogh!” spluttered Bunter. “Leggo! I say, you fellows, make him leggo! I
say, you make him leggo, and I’ll let you have some of the jam!”
“Ha, ha, ha!”
Shake! shake! shake!
Smithy, grinning, put his beef into it. The fat Owl tottered in his grasp,
gurgling for breath. There was a sudden bump, as the jar of jam slipped, at
last, from under Bunter’s jacket, and rolled on the landing. Bunter’s plunder
had been shaken out of him and was revealed, to all eyes, as a pot of plum jam.
“Looks more like jam than ink to me!” remarked Nugent.
“The jamfulness is terrific!” grinned Hurree Jamset Ram Singh. “The esteemed
and execrable Bunter has been study-raiding.”
“Ow! I haven’t!” gasped Bunter. “That’s my jam! It came from Bunter Court this morning! You leave my jam alone.”
Herbert Vernon-Smith, releasing the fat Owl, stooped to pick up his pot of jam.
Billy Bunter made a dive for it. There was a sudden crash, as two heads
suddenly met. Vernon-Smith gave a yell of anguish, and sat down suddenly on the
landing. Bunter reeled from the shock.
“Ha, ha, ha!” shrieked the Famous Five.
“Oh, scissors!” gasped the Bounder. He sat with his hand to his head, dizzy
from the crash. For a moment or two, he was hors de combat .
Billy Bunter did not lose that moment or two. His bullet head was harder than
Smithy’s, apparently. Perhaps there was not much in it to damage. Bunter
clutched up the disputed pot of jam, and jumped for the lower stairs. Harry
Wharton and Co. were laughing too much to stop him. Bunter went down the
staircase with leaps like a kangaroo.
“Ha, ha, ha!”
 Vernon-Smith staggered to his feet, his hand still to his head. His face was
red with wrath.
“By gum! I’ll