Pointon grew annoyed. He was a studious boy with rather definite opinions of his own and a particularly strong sense of justice. “That’s preposterous,” said he. “No man’s got a right to do a thing like that. He’s not a dictator. We’ve always elected our own captains at games.... This is all rot. Do you mean to say he’s going to make Rouse suffer like this and ruin the school’s footer season just because he hasn’t the decency to admit himself in the wrong?” “That’s Toby’s idea,” said Terence, “and Toby isn’t often wrong over a thing like this. He’s done a lot of arguing with the Head too ... and none of us have really spoken to him at all in private. Toby’s probably right.” “In that case,” said Pointon, “we _shall_ require a deputation and we’d better decide now who it shall be.” * * * * * It was twenty-five minutes before Toby came back, and they saw at once that his countenance was grave. “It’s no use at all,” said he. “The Head’s firm. He says that unless you have elected a new captain by six o’clock to-night, he will elect one for you, and it may not be one that you expect.” “Did you ask him to receive a deputation, sir?” said Smythe. Toby looked at him fixedly. “No. It was clear that if I did he would refuse. So I decided that if there were going to be a deputation at all it had better be an impromptu one. And I think I’ll leave that to you.” Looking at him, they understood: Toby was a master. CHAPTER VIII THE THUMB-SCREW Coles returned to his study in a very bad temper. There had been one precious minute during the meeting when he had found himself suddenly thinking: “My word! Supposing they should elect me!” Never before had he seriously considered himself captain of Rugby football; but now that he did so he found the sensation peculiarly delightful. In these fleeting moments he imagined himself the most important man in the school, a veritable maker of laws. He pictured the favours he would be able to win from other fellows by withholding or bestowing colours. He would be respected in the town. He would be able to get things on tick. He might even be awarded a money prize by his proud father. All these possibilities had flashed before his mind’s eye whilst other names were being suggested. Then that well-meaning but misguided individual had risen really and truly to propose his own and the chance was altogether too much for him. He had jumped to his feet.... There remained now nothing but the memory of being called an ass. After all, he was the best drop-kick in the school. He could not for the life of him see why it should be so very absurd to suppose him captain. It is, of course, at such times as this that the close observer may discern the subtle difference between one who is instinctively a gentleman and one who is not. Coles was not a young man of good taste and that’s all there is to it.