Deighton turned and let fly with a powerful shot through the trees. "Bremner had a shanghai, and his locker is next to yours. Work it out for yourself!"

"Of course!" said Steve. "That's it! He did it when he left the hall to spew!"

"Gee you're sharp this morning!" said Deighton sarcastically. "Take you long to figure that out? Everyone else has." He slapped Steve on the back nearly sending him sprawling. "Oh! Sorry!"

"No. It's alright. It's only my backside that's still sore. That's all."

"Quite a set of railway lines you have there so I've heard!"

"Yeah no heroics about sitting down at mealtimes this time though!"

"Bremner will get what's coming to him don't you worry."

"What do you mean?"

"Every dog has his day. No need for you to worry." He knowingly tapped the side of his nose with his index finger and said no more. The equilibrium was about to be restored.

The 250 strong student body was made up of a wide range of shapes and sizes from scrawny Steve at one end to great hulking Pacific Islanders and Maori at the other. Because the school's 1st XV rugby team thrashed all local schools they were forced to play in the Senior Men's Competition and play teams such as the NZ Army or NZ Navy and even then they won with ease. The only team that had ever beaten them was St Stephens, a Maori School in Bombay. While Steve was only ten some of the seniors were twenty and on their third attempt at sitting School Certificate Exams. Some were there for the rugby and some because they didn't necessarily want to return to the isolation of farm work or go back to the Islands. Whatever way you look at it they were a tough group always at flash point. Caged like bored rats waiting for a spark. 

After diner most boys would wander off down to the rugby fields to entertain themselves with games of one sort or another to wile away the time before prep. Standing next to Steve on the bank overlooking the rugby fields Deighton said, "Watch this!" and signalled with his head towards the bottom field. There spread out before them in two long snaking lines was the whole student body with one lonely figure facing them.

"Is that Bremner?" asked Steve squinting into the setting sun.

"Yes! It's Bremner," echoed Deighton, "and he's about to get his just deserts."

"Start running the gauntlet Bremner!" shouted the Head boy. "We're ready for you!" The snake lines rippled and tensed.

Bremner had few friends before the shanghai incident and none after. Tolerated but never fully accepted, he had broken a cardinal rule of boarding school, was sent to Coventry and was about to face his unforgiving accusers. The punishment would be brutal as he tried to run between the rows. Some had cricket bats. Some had hockey sticks and others had spiked running shoes.  As he entered the vortex of the maelstrom it was like a snake swallowing a rat. The lump passed through the pulsating ranks and was spat out the other end. Then as the school made its way up the bank to prep classes one figure lay prone in the middle of the field bloodied and battered.

When he got out of hospital Bremner left Wesley College and went back to his home in the Kingcountry.

Nothing was said. Nothing was done. Justice was served. The code maintained. Life went on.