“Hey!” whispered Ernie, pointing with a long arm. “Look over there!”

There was a group of trees and bushes alongside the railway line, and beside one of the bushes stood a small boy. He was looking up into the branches of an old tree through a pair of binoculars.

“You know who that is?” Raymond whispered back. “It’s that little twerp Watson.”

“You’re right!” Ernie whispered. “It’s Watson, the scum of the earth!”

Peter Watson was always the enemy. Ernie and Raymond detested him because he was nearly everything that they were not. He had a small frail body. His face was freckled and he wore spectacles with thick lenses. He was a brilliant pupil, already in the senior class at school although he was only thirteen. He loved music and played the piano well. He was no good at games. He was quiet and polite. His clothes, although patched and darned, were always clean. And his father did not drive a truck or work in a factory. He worked in the bank.

“Let’s give the little perisher a fright,” Ernie whispered.

The two bigger boys crept up close to the small boy, who didn’t see them because he still had binoculars to his eyes.

“‘Ands up!” shouted Ernie, pointing the gun.

Peter Watson jumped. He lowered the binoculars and stared through his spectacles at the two intruders.

“Go on!” Ernie shouted. “Stick ’em up!”

“I wouldn’t point that gun if I were you,” Peter Watson said.