This mercenary view of the subject was new to Percy, but he frankly accepted it. "I tell you what," said he; "here, give us a pen; we'll just draw up a few conditions. If he accepts them we'll stay away; if he don't, he may hang himself before we sit out." After much deliberation, the following charter of six points was drawn up and laid on Clapperton's table. "On the following conditions the undersigned will stop out of Hall on October 3,--namely, to wit, viz., i.e.:-- "1. No more fagging. "2. Don't go to bed till 9:30. "3. A study a-piece. "4. The prefects shall be abolished. Any prefect reporting to Forder to be kicked. "5. Except between 9:30 p.m. and 7:30 a.m. we do as we like. "6. That the four following Classic cads get their noses pulled; namely Wheatfield, W., D'Arcy, Ashby, and Fisher minor. "If these are agreed to, we won't go to the meeting." (Signed by) Wheatfield, P., M.P. Cottle, Major-General. Lickford, D.D. Ramshaw minor, F.S.A. Cash, LL.D., etcetera, etcetera. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. CORDER TO THE FRONT. The morning of the return match with Rendlesham was damp and muggy, and so assorted well with the spirits of Fellsgarth generally. The juniors of course were cheerful--everything came in the day's work for them--but among the seniors on either side gloom prevailed. Even Ranger, the lighthearted, was snappish, as his fag discovered; and Denton, the amiable, hoped he would not, for his temper's sake, meet too many Moderns between morning and evening. The captain, though he kept up his usual show of serenity, was evidently worried. But he had no notion of giving in. No! If the School was to be thrashed let them take their thrashing like men, and not whine about like the "other boys." "After all," said he to Ranger, "we may not get glory, but we needn't lose it. Only, for goodness' sake, let us keep our rows to ourselves, and not talk about them out of doors." "Right you are!" said his friend. "I wish I had your temper. The cads! And after the way you've treated them, too. Why, some of us thought you went out of your way to favour them." The captain grunted, and began to throw his flannels into his bag. "What about Rollitt?" he asked. "No go. He's gone off for a day's fishing." The captain whistled dismally. "Then we must play a man short. There's no one else worth putting in. It's like marching to one's execution," he said; "I wish it was all over. But it's only just beginning." The Moderns were gloomy too. They had taken their course, and they must stand by it now. When they came to reflect, it was not a particularly glorious one, nor did it seem to promise much by way of compensation. They were done out of football for the rest of the term; they were reduced to a faction in Fellsgarth, and what was worse, they were secretly doubtful whether they were quite as much in the right as they tried to persuade themselves. They had taken their course, however, and must go on.