Freddy Plunger was amongst the anglers. He was talking loudly about his achievements at different times with rod and line, when Devey, Arbery, and Leveson came up with him.

"What are you fishing for, Plunger?" asked Devey, catching him gently by the ear. "Whales?"

"No--eels!" retorted Plunger snappily, having good cause to remember Devey the night before. "Slippery things, eels, aren't they?"

"Not half so slippery as you are, Mr. Plunger. But don't be cheeky."

"Never am, Mr. Devey. That's my fault--always too polite. Born like it, so can't help myself. Where are you going to, Mr. Devey?"

"That's my business, Mr. Plunger. Little boys shouldn't ask questions--they should be seen and not heard. If you have a good catch, ask us to supper, won't you? Ta-ta, Plunger!"

And Devey and his companions went on, leaving Plunger and his companions chuckling in their sleeves.

"Mr. Devey thinks himself mighty clever now, but he looked an awful a.s.s in the shed last night when all the fellows turned on him for laughing like a paroquet," grinned Plunger. "I nearly killed myself trying to keep my feelings under. It was enough to make a cat scream. Oh, dear; oh, my!"

And Plunger went off at the recollection, till he received a dig in the ribs from Baldry which made him gasp.

"Shut up, Freddy; here comes the n.o.ble champion of the Fifth! He doesn't look over-pleased with himself."

As he spoke, Paul and Stanley pa.s.sed them. Baldry was not far wrong.

Paul was far from pleased with himself. He was going to fight in cold blood a boy with whom he personally had no quarrel, and he had not the slightest notion who his opponent was. He might be a n.o.ble-hearted fellow, as much averse to quarrelling and fighting as he was, but compelled to fight--as he had been--for "the honour of the Form."

He--Paul--had faced danger, and had not shrunk from it; but somehow, he shrunk from the encounter before him.

"Look! There's quite a crowd at the sand-pit already," exclaimed Stanley, who was a great deal more excited at the coming encounter than Paul was.

By this time they had come within sight of the sand-pit. Paul, looking up, saw that on one side had gathered most of the boys of the Fifth, while on the other side were the boys from St. Bede's.

CHAPTER XV

WHAT HAPPENED AT THE SAND-PIT

Though the boys of St. Bede's and those of Garside regarded themselves as adversaries, to their credit be it said no outbreak of temper had resulted from their meeting at the sand-pit. There had been some amount of good-humoured chaff bandied to and fro across the pit, but nothing more. All were eager for the coming struggle.

A cheer went up from the Garsides directly they caught sight of Paul.

The Bedes eyed him critically.

"Looks grim enough--as though he meant business," said one, as Paul advanced to the pit.

The cheer of his comrades put fresh life into Paul. His blood, which had seemed stagnant, began to race through his veins.

"For the honour of the Form," he said to himself, between his clenched teeth, "I must--I will win!"

As though his comrades wished to give him all the encouragement in their power, another cheer went up as he entered the pit, and took up his position on the floor of hard-pressed sand below.

"Where's the other fellow?" he asked.

"Doesn't seem to have turned up yet," said Arbery; "but I don't think it's quite time. How goes it, Levy?"

Leveson had a stop-watch and was very proud of it. He usually acted as timekeeper at the school sports, when the stop-watch was very much to the fore. He prided himself on one thing--always knowing the right time.

His was the only watch that kept the right time at Garside--so, at least, Leveson said. To ask Leveson the "correct time" was one of the greatest compliments you could pay him. It was a tacit acknowledgment that the time kept by Leveson's stop-watch was superior to any other.

"Three minutes eighteen seconds to three," answered Leveson, after examining the watch.

"Oh, we'll make you a present of the seconds," said Arbery. Then he shouted across to the Bedes: "I say, Beetles, is that champion of yours coming on an ambulance?"

"No; that's coming after," cried a bright-eyed lad named Sterry, from the other side, "to take your champion home!"

A loud laugh from the Bedes greeted this retort.

"He scored over you there, Arbery," said indolent Waterman.

Scarcely had the laughter died away than it was followed by a loud cheer.

"Their man's coming at last. What's the time, Levy?"

"One minute thirty secs. to the hour. He's cut it rather fine--must be a cool sort of bounder," answered Leveson. "Hallo, look there! Hang me if there isn't Master Plunger and a lot of the howlers from his form."

Arbery looked in the direction indicated. Plunger and his companions were lying at full length on the banks of the pit, peering over its sides and taking the deepest possible interest in the proceedings below.

"So it is. How did the little beggar get to know what was going on, I wonder?"

"Said he was going eel-fishing. Thought it was a blind," said Devey.

"Hallo, they're peeling!"

Paul had taken off his coat, and rolled back his sleeves. The champion of the other Form could not at first be seen because of the throng which had gathered round him, but presently he came from the group that surrounded him with his coat off, and his arms bared, just as Paul stepped into the ring.

Their eyes met. Paul staggered back, as though he had been struck. The youth who stood before him was Gilbert Wyndham, he who had helped him on the night he was fleeing from Zuker. Fight him? Impossible! Not though his life depended on it!

The excited murmur of voices that followed the two into the ring ceased.

A strange silence rested on the place, as the two boys confronted each other. Then as the two schools were waiting eagerly for the first blow to be struck, they saw Paul's hands fall helpless to his side; saw the colour go from his face; saw the white lips move. What did it mean? They stared in wonder, and the wonder grew as Paul turned away and took his coat from Moncrief.

"I cannot fight," he murmured.

With his coat on his arm he hastened from the pit. Then the silence was broken by the Bedes. They howled, and jeered and hooted. And above the hooting and the jeers there rose the cry:

"The n.o.ble champion of the Gargoyles!"

Heedless of the shouting and the jeers, Paul walked swiftly away, as one seized with sudden fear. His own Form still remained silent. They might have been struck dumb. It was all so strange--so unexpected.

Then they in turn shouted and jeered after the retreating figure.

Paul heard the shouts. Those from the Bedes made him shiver. These from his own Form cut into him like whips.

"They do not understand! How--how can I tell them?" he murmured as he pressed on, anxious to get away from the place as quickly as possible.