ou don't
mind us putting that off for a bit? This is the thing we've got to
settle, this cheeky challenge from the Beetles."

Paul, seeing there was no help for it, nodded assent.

"And you, Newall?"

Newall nodded in turn.

"Good! Well, then, having decided to take up the challenge from St.
Bede's, the next thing to settle is, who's to be our champion at the
sand-pit to-morrow?"

No one seemed in a great hurry to answer that question, but at length
Newall, a curious smile hovering about his lips, said:

"We're all of us anxious for the job, that's the reason we're so silent.
But I'd like to propose one as our champion who'd do us
credit--Percival."

Had a thunderbolt fallen in the shed, the boys of the Fifth could not
have been more startled than when they heard Paul's name. Was Newall in
earnest, or was he poking fun? It was hard to tell, for the curious
smile that had hovered about his lips was there no longer. It had quite
vanished, and his face was the gravest amongst them.

"Percival!" he repeated with emphasis. "He's done me a lot of honour.
He's done me the honour of calling you fellows together to settle a
quarrel between Moncrief and me. He's done me honour in the nice things
he has said of me. Well, I'd like to do him a little in turn. There
can't be a greater honour than representing the Fifth as champion of the
Form. It's one that I'd jump at myself, but after what has taken place,
after all that Percival has said about the honour of the Form, I can
only take a back seat. He comes first. So I again say, let Percival be
our champion."

Notwithstanding that Paul had rarely been seen in a school fight, it was
well known amongst his companions that he was a fine athlete and
perfectly able to take care of himself, so with ready shouts they hailed
the suggestion.

"Percival, Percival, Percival!" resounded on all sides.

CHAPTER XIV

THE CHAMPION OF HIS FORM

Paul, as may be imagined, was as much startled by Newall's proposal that
he should be the champion of the Form as at the readiness with which it
was taken up by his class-mates.

"Well, Percival"--the voice of Hasluck broke the silence which had
followed as they waited eagerly Paul's answer--"you've heard what Newall
has said, and what the Form thinks of it. What's your answer?"

A keen struggle went on in Paul's mind as the question came to him. He
had come there to settle a dispute--to ward off a meeting between
Moncrief and New