d up, with his head in the air, to face his rival like
a man. Even a Culver may look a gentleman as he rushes down to his
corner and saves his match with a left-hander, and Aspinall himself may
appear formidable when, as he stands up to serve, his foeman pulls his
cap down and retreats with lengthened face across the service-line.

But where were Dick and Heathcote? For a whole week Ponty took his
siesta in the Juniors' corner, blinking now at the cricket, now at the
tennis, strolling sometimes into the gymnasium, and sometimes to the
fives courts, but nowhere did Basil the son of Richard meet his eyes,
and nowhere was Heathcote the Pledgeling.

One day he did find the latter wandering like a ghost in the Quadrangle,
and saw him bolt like a rat to his hole at sight of a monitor; and once
he saw Dick striding at the head of a phalanx of Juniors, with his coat
off and his face very much on one side, and the marks of battle on his
eye and lip. Ponty sheered off before the triumphal army reached him
and shrugged his shoulders.

That afternoon he encountered our heroes arm-in-arm in the Quadrangle
and hailed them. They obeyed his summons uneasily.

"Go and put on your flannels, both of you," said the captain, "and come
back here; I'll wait for you."

In trepidation they obeyed and went, while Ponty looked about for a cozy
seat on which to stretch himself.

In five minutes they returned and presented themselves. Ponty eyed them
both calmly, and then roused himself and began to walk to the fields.

Tennis was in full swing in the Junior corner, where all sorts of play,
good, bad and indifferent, was going on at the nets. Ponty, followed by
the two bewildered champions, strolled about till he came upon an
indifferent set being played by Gosse and Cazenove against Raggles and
another boy called Wade.

"Stop the game for a bit, you youngsters," said the captain. "Which two
of you are the best?"

"I think I and Raggles are," said Gosse, with his usual modesty.

"Oh, then you can sit out. Give your rackets to these two; they're
going to play against Cazenove and Wade."

Dick's heart sank within him as he took Gosse's racket and glanced up at
the captain's face.

"I'm rather out of practice," faltered he.

"Come, are you ready? I'll umpire," said the captain.

It was a melancholy exhibition, that scratch match; all the more
melancholy that the other courts gradually emptied and a ring of Juniors
formed, who