, they had won in consequence of that deed, and that was
quite sufficient to set three-fourths of the crowd against them.

As they came up a loud groan and cries of "Cheats! Foul play!" suddenly
arose. Startled by the unexpected demonstration, the five heroes looked
up with flushed faces.

"Cheats! Cowards!" reiterated the hostile section, beginning at the
same time to surge towards them.

Foremost among these was Tucker of Welch's house and Wibberly of
Parrett's, who, as the crowd behind pressed forward, were carried with
their abusive taunts on their lips into the midst of the schoolhouse
group. The latter, as may be imagined, were in anything but the humour
for an assault of this sort, and their leaders instantly resented it in
a _very_ practical manner.

"Where are you coming to?" demanded Fairbairn, flinging Wibberly from
him into the arms of his followers.

Before Wibberly could recover his balance the crowd had closed in by a
sudden impulse, and with a loud shout had set upon the crew.

"Have them over, Parrett's!" shouted a voice, as Wibberly staggered back
a second time before Fairbairn's stalwart arm, while at the same moment
Tucker received a similar rebuff from Crossfield.

The summons was promptly answered, and a dash was made on the five
schoolhouse boys with a view to carrying out the threat literally, when
Wyndham's voice shouted, "Rescue here! schoolhouse, come on!"

Instantly the whole crowd seemed to resolve itself by magic into two
parties, and a short but desperate battle ensued.

The fire had been waiting for weeks for a match, and now the flare-up
had come. Nobody knew whom he hit out at or by whom he was attacked
that forenoon. The pent-up irritation of half a term found vent in that
famous battle in which the schoolhouse boys fought their way inch by
inch up to the door of their house.

Luckily for them, the most formidable of their rivals were not upon the
field of action, and in due time the compact phalanx of seniors, aided
by Wyndham and his band of recruits, forced their way through superior
numbers, and finally burst triumphantly through and gained their
stronghold.

But the victory was hardly bought, for the slaughter had been great.

Coates had a black eye, and Porter's jacket was torn from his back.
Riddell had twice been knocked down and trodden on, while Wyndham,
Telson, and others of the rescuing party were barely recognisable
through dust and bruises. On the oth