attitude.

"Booh, hoo! Rollitt's coming! Wants to hear you call him a thief.
Run--he'll catch you! Put it on, well run, Dangle, you've missed him
this time. Coast's clear, now; you can come back. We'll protect you,"
and so on.

These attentions made Dangle's visits to the field less frequent. In
school, he kept the swagger up still longer.

"So," said he one day to Clapperton, "I thought you didn't approve of
cutting fellows dead?"

"No more I do."

"Why do you do it, then?"

"Have you apologised to Rollitt?"

"No."

"Has Rollitt thrashed you?"

"No."

"When one or the other has happened, I shall be delighted to shake
hands," said Clapperton.

The alternative was a dismal one, but Dangle saw no third way. Which
course was least to be desired he could not for the life of him decide.
A fight with Rollitt he knew would end disastrously. But to apologise--
and in public!

The reader has already had too football matches in the course of this
story. He shall not be wearied with a third.

Suffice it to say the Penchurch men--men, not boys--presented themselves
on the appointed day, and all Fellsgarth turned out to see the battle.

Fisher minor scored one more triumph by bringing Rollitt up to the
scratch, and so completing as sound and taut a team as Yorke had ever
led on to victory.

Mrs Stratton was there, wearing the School colours round her hat; and
the doctor was there with his field-glasses, pointing out the heroes of
the School to his distinguished visitors.

This time, by much squeezing and mutual accommodation, the oak tree was
made to hold nine persons. Who those nine were none could guess, unless
indeed they happened to be standing within a hundred yards of the spot
without cotton-wool in their ears.

From the first it went hard with the Penchurch men. The School had
never played up better. The scrimmages were beautifully packed, and the
quarter and half-backs were never off the spot. Only when, above the
crowd, Rollitt's head was seen to be at work, and it was apparent he had
waked up for a time, was there any risk of confusion. But Yorke's "Play
on Rollitt!" generally pulled the scrimmage together again, and warned
friend and (after a time) foe what to expect.

There was no holding Rollitt back when he once made up his mind to get
the ball through; and no stopping him when once he got fairly started on
a run. Twice before half-time and once after he scored a touch-down.
Tw