ot get glory, but we needn't
lose it. Only, for goodness' sake, let us keep our rows to ourselves,
and not talk about them out of doors."

"Right you are!" said his friend. "I wish I had your temper. The cads!
And after the way you've treated them, too. Why, some of us thought
you went out of your way to favour them."

The captain grunted, and began to throw his flannels into his bag.

"What about Rollitt?" he asked.

"No go. He's gone off for a day's fishing."

The captain whistled dismally. "Then we must play a man short. There's
no one else worth putting in. It's like marching to one's execution,"
he said; "I wish it was all over. But it's only just beginning."

The Moderns were gloomy too. They had taken their course, and they must
stand by it now. When they came to reflect, it was not a particularly
glorious one, nor did it seem to promise much by way of compensation.
They were done out of football for the rest of the term; they were
reduced to a faction in Fellsgarth, and what was worse, they were
secretly doubtful whether they were quite as much in the right as they
tried to persuade themselves.

They had taken their coarse, however, and must go on.

"I suppose none of our side will go on the omnibus," said Brinkman.

"Why not?" said Clapperton. "It will do them good to have spectators.
I shall go; not that I care about it, but just to assert my rights."

"Hurrah for self-sacrifice!" said Fullerton. "If your principles will
allow you to take chicken and tongue sandwiches with you, I'll go too."

"It's ten to one they'll try to prevent our going," said Dangle; "I hope
they'll try."

When the two coaches drove up to carry the fifteen and the prefects and
other privileged boys to the scene of conflict, a good deal of surprise
was evinced at the appearance of Clapperton, Brinkman, Dangle, and
Fullerton, in ordinary costume, and without bags, ready to accompany the
party.

Contrary to their expectations and hopes, no protest was made, and, as
far as the Classic seniors were concerned, no notice was vouchsafed
them. This was annoying, particularly as the juniors present took care
to call attention to their presence.

"Look at 'em," cried Wally; "don't they look clever?"

"Kicked out of the team--serve 'em right!" shouted Ashby.

"Who's kicked out?" retorted the Modern fags. "It would take better
chaps than you to kick them out."

"Don't you wish you could kick them in? They know bett