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about personal mission statements and key performance indicators. He gave the
distinct impression of a general saying farewell to his troops as they prepared for
battle, before he popped back to headquarters for a snifter of brandy and a three-course
meal.
    Dr Crispin swivelled his head towards Sam and Gerald. His nose twitched, as if picking
up a scent. ‘I expect at least a third of you to fail,’ he said in a tone redolent
of dawn runs and ice baths. ‘The remaining two tasks will sort the rest of you out.’
    If there had been any enthusiasm left in the room at that point it was sucked up
the chimney with the smoke.
    Gerald looked over to Ruby and Felicity sitting with a group of St Hilda’s girls.
They all seemed appalled at what they had just heard. Ruby glanced up and caught
Gerald’s eye. Her expression said, ‘Is this guy for real?’
    Gerald raised his eyebrows, as if to say, ‘Sadly, yes.’
    The headmaster snapped his
fingers like a rifle shot, and looked to where Mr Beare was sitting in a chair. ‘If
you please, Mr Beare.’
    The maths teacher lifted himself up and crossed to the centre of the room. He ran
a hand over his chins and smiled at the upturned faces before him. He pulled a large
envelope from his jacket and held it above his head.
    ‘I have here the instructions
for the first leg of the Triple Crown.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Shall I read them?’
    Enthusiasm bubbled back into the room. ‘Yes!’
    Mr Beare made a dramatic event of ripping open the envelope and removing a sheet
of paper. ‘In a moment you will sort yourselves into teams of four: two members from
St Cuthbert’s and two from St Hilda’s. These will be your teams for all the Triple
Crown challenges, so choose wisely.’
    A buzz spread around the students. Gerald and Sam turned and pointed at each other.
    ‘Team?’ Sam asked.
    ‘Team,’ Gerald replied.
    Gerald looked up to where Felicity and Ruby were sitting and was surprised to see
Alex Baranov deep in conversation with Ruby.
    Gerald did not have a good feeling about this.
    Mr Beare called for quiet. ‘You will have time to assemble your teams shortly. First,
let us find out about tomorrow morning’s task.’
    A hush descended on the hall.
    Mr Beare unfolded the sheet of paper and read. ‘Starting at 8am, groups will depart
at five-minute intervals on an overnight hike. Each team will be given a map, a
compass and coordinates for a checkpoint. At the checkpoint you will find an ink
stamp that you must apply to your map to prove that you made it there. You will camp
overnight and hike back in the morning. As the night descends quite early this far
north, some of the teams may have to camp overnight before arriving at the checkpoint.’
    Sam and Gerald looked at each other. ‘Seems simple enough,’ Sam said.
    ‘There is one complication,’ Mr Beare said, raising his voice to be heard over the
excited rumble that filled the hall. The noise died down, and heads turned his way.
‘The maps you will be given are not entirely accurate. All of the compasses have
been adjusted to be at least five degrees off, and the checkpoint is twenty miles
away.’
    Gerald and Sam looked at each other again. ‘Twenty miles, a dodgy map and a next-to-useless
compass counts as one complication, does it?’ Sam said. ‘Is he having a joke?’
    Mr Beare raised his hands for calm. ‘The more mathematically minded students will
have already calculated that a five degree discrepancy over a twenty mile hike will
have you about two miles adrift of your target for the checkpoint. So we have included
in your kitbags, together with food and a four-man tent, a series of clues to help
you. Now do not forget to stamp your map, because you will need the checkpoint symbol
for the second challenge of the Triple Crown.’
    Mr Beare checked his watch. ‘Right, you have ten minutes to form your teams. Anyone
not in a team of four by then will be disqualified. Go!’
    Two hundred boys and girls leapt