er," retorted
Percy and Co.

Amid such embarrassing comments, the four Modern heroes mounted to their
places.

The cheers of their adherents hardly made up for the chilly welcome of
their travelling companions. Yorke, seeing Clapperton looking for a
place, politely moved up to make room, and then turned his back and
talked to Ranger. The other three were similarly cut off, Dangle
finding himself in between Fisher major and Denton, who talked across
him. Brinkman, on another coach, was tucked in among some rowdy Classic
middle-boys who were discussing the "strike" very vigorously among
themselves. As for Fullerton, he was lucky enough to get the seat
beside the driver, where, at any rate, he could count on one sympathetic
soul into whose ears to pour his occasional words of wisdom.

Just as the first coach was starting, a shout was heard from across the
Green, and Corder, the Modern boy whose services were declined on the
previous occasion, equipped in an ulster and with his bag in his hand,
appeared signalling for the _cortege_ to wait.

"Well! what is it?" demanded Dangle.

"Is Yorke there? Yorke, can I play to-day?"

"No, you can't," said Dangle in a menacing undertone. "None of us are
playing; you know that."

"I don't see why I mayn't play if I have the chance," said Corder. "I
awfully want to play in the fifteen."

"We're a man short," said Yorke. "You can play, Corder."

"If you dare to come and play," said Dangle, still in a whisper, "you'll
find it so precious hot for yourself afterwards that you'll be sorry for
it."

"Yorke says I may play," persisted Corder; "I don't see why I
shouldn't."

"Cad! traitor! blackleg!" yelled Percy and Co., as they saw their man
mount the coach.

"Ha, ha! got _one_ man among you who isn't a coward and a sneak, and--
and a howling kid!" retorted Wally. "Gee up!" Whereat the whips
cracked and the happy party drove off.

Corder was one of those obtuse youths who can never take in more than
one idea at a time. His present idea was football. He had come up this
term with a consuming ambition to get into the fifteen, and had played
hard and desperately to secure his end. Last week, when Brinkman was
obliged to retire, he thought his chance was come, and great was his
mortification when he found that his nomination was not accepted by the
captain. Still he didn't despair. When he saw the vacancies caused in
the team by the defection of the Moderns, his ho