Whereupon Corder departed in high dudgeon.

It was no use holding out now. He had better give in, and own himself beaten. It would be so much easier than resisting any longer.

For an hour of two he was permitted to go in and out unmolested. But after morning school, he was going out to solace himself with some solitary kicks at the football, when just on the steps of the house Brinkman pounced upon him.

"I've got you now, have I, you cad?" said he. "You just come back with me."

"I won't. Let go!" cried Corder, in a temporary panic, wriggling himself away and escaping a few yards.

Brinkman, however, was quickly after him, determined this time to hold him fast. Corder, though a senior, was a small boy, and had never before thought of pitting, himself against the Modern bully.

But once already this term he had come suddenly to realise that he could do better than he gave himself credit for. And now that matters seemed desperate, when there was no escape, and his fate stared him in the face, it occurred to Corder he would show fight.

He had right on his side. He had done no harm to Brinkman or anybody else. Why shouldn't he let out, and stand up for himself?

So, to Brinkman's utter amazement, he was met by a blow and a defiant challenge to "come on."

What Brinkman might have done is doubtful, but at that moment Yorke and Ranger strolled by.

"Hullo! What's this? A fight?" said the captain.

"Rather," said Corder, now thoroughly strung up to the point. "I say, Yorke, will you stop and see fair play?"

The captain hesitated a moment. Any other fight he would have felt it his duty to stop. This fight seemed to be an exception. It would probably do more good than harm.

"Yes, if you like," said he.

"I'm not going to fight a little beggar like that," said Brinkman.

"Yes, you are," said Ranger, "and I'll see fair play for you."

"I promise you I'll make it so hot for him that he'll be sorry for it."

"I don't care," said Corder. "If you don't fight you're a coward.

There!"

At this point Dangle came out.

"Here, your man wants a second," said Ranger; "you'll suit him better than I."

The usual crowd collected, minus the junior faction, who complained bitterly for a year after that they had been deliberately done out of being present by the malice of the princ.i.p.als. One result of their absence was that the proceedings were comparatively quiet. Every one present knew what the quarrel was, and not a few, for their own sakes, hoped Corder would make a good fight of it.

Dangle sneered at the whole thing, and counselled his man audibly not to be too hard on the little fool.

His advice was not wanted. Corder, for a fellow of his make and inexperience, exhibited good form, and persistently walked his man round the ring, dodging his blows and getting in a knock for himself every now and then. Brinkman soon dropped the disdainful style in which he commenced proceedings, and became proportionately wild and unsteady.

"Now's your chance, young 'un; he's lost his temper," whispered the captain.

Whereupon Corder, hardly knowing how he managed it, danced his man once more round and round, till he was out of breath, and then slipped in with a right, left--left, right, which, though they made up hardly one good blow among them, were so well planted, and followed one another so rapidly, that Brinkman lost his balance under them, and fell sprawling on the ground.

At the same moment Mr Stratton came up, and the crowd dispersed as if by magic.

"What is this?" said the master, appealing to the captain.

"A fight, sir," said Yorke. "A necessary one."

"Between Corder and Brinkman? Come and tell me about it, Yorke."

So while Corder, amid the jubilations of his supporters, who had grown twenty-fold since the beginning of the fight, was being escorted to his quarters, and Brinkman, crestfallen and bewildered, was being left by his disgusted backers to help himself, Yorke strolled on with Mr Stratton, and gave him, as well as he could, an account of the circ.u.mstances which for weeks had been leading up to this climax.

"I think it was as well to allow it," said the master, "but there must be no more of it. You have a hard task before you to pull things together, Yorke, but it will be work well done."

"Was it the right thing to dissolve the clubs, sir?" asked Yorke.

"At the time, yes. But watch your chance of reviving them. You must have some common interest on foot, to bring the two sides together."

The captain walked back to his house in a brown study. He had half hoped Mr Stratton might offer to interpose and restore the harmony of the School. But no, the master had left it to the captain, and Yorke's courage rose within him. G.o.d helping him, he would pull Fellsgarth together before he left.

On the Green he met Fullerton. It was long since the Modern and Cla.s.sic seniors had nodded as they pa.s.sed, but in the curious perversity of things both did so now.

"There's been a fight, I hear?" said Fullerton.

"Yes. Brinkman and Corder. Corder had the best of it."

"I'm jolly glad. Corder's got more pluck than you'd give him credit for."

"Yes; he's had a rough time of it in your house."

"So he has, poor beggar. It's rather humiliating to wait till he has licked his man before one takes his side; but upon my word, I'm as sick of it all as he is."

"It is rather rough on fellows who aren't allowed to do what they've a right to do," said Yorke. "I say, have you anything special on after afternoon school?"

"No, why?"

"Only that I wish you'd come and have tea with me."

Fullerton laughed.

"Bribery and corruption?" said he. "Anyhow, I'll come."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

"FAMA VOLAT."

The Modern seniors had certainly experienced a run of bad luck since the inauguration of the strike, which was to have brought their rivals down on their knees and secured for the Modern side a supremacy in Fellsgarth.