care much,
so far. They might make him cave in, in the long run. (No! Stick
out!) Let the fellow who cried "Stick out," come and try it. His only
offence had been that he had played for the School. To do anything for
the School was now considered a crime on the Modern side. (Shame.)
Anyhow, he should vote for the captain's motion; and though he wasn't
particularly sweet on the Classics as a body, he was beginning to think
they weren't quite as bad as his own side.

Percy hereupon rose, amid derisive cheers. He didn't know why the names
of him and his lot had been brought in; but he just wanted to say that
they were here to-day because they had a right to come, and weren't
going to be kept out by anybody--not if they knew it. (Rather not!) He
and his lot thought there wasn't much to choose between anybody,
especially the juniors of the Classic side, who thought they were jolly
clever, but were about the biggest stuck-uppest louts he-- (Order. Kick
him out.) He hoped the meeting would rally round the School shop, where
every one was treated alike, and got the best grub for the money of any
school going. They were going to get some Ribston-- (Order. Time.)
All right. They shouldn't hear what he was going to say now. (Loud
cheers.)

Yorke said they all seemed to be pretty much of the same mind; and he
would put his motion to the vote.

This accordingly was done, and carried without a dissentient voice.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

A BELEAGUERED GARRISON.

The decision arrived at by the club meeting speedily came to the ears of
the recalcitrant Moderns, and by no means pleased them. They had
expected at least that some one would propose that they should be met
half-way, and appealed to, for the sake of the School, to abandon their
attitude. That would have given them an opportunity of figuring in an
heroic light before Fellsgarth, and showing how, for the general good,
they could afford even to overlook the slight which had been put upon
them.

But now, so far from that, they figured as the party who had wrecked the
School clubs for the sake of a petty pique, and in their absence had
been quietly deposed along with every one else from office and
privilege, and left looking uncommonly foolish and uncommonly
ridiculous.

Yorke himself hardly realised, when he made his downright motion, that
he was dealing the hardest blow possible at the mutiny. A mutiny is all
very well as long as there is some one to