"I suppose none of our side will go on the omnibus," said Brinkman. "Why not?" said Clapperton. "It will do them good to have spectators. I shall go; not that I care about it, but just to assert my rights." "Hurrah for self-sacrifice!" said Fullerton. "If your principles will allow you to take chicken and tongue sandwiches with you, I'll go too." "It's ten to one they'll try to prevent our going," said Dangle; "I hope they'll try." When the two coaches drove up to carry the fifteen and the prefects and other privileged boys to the scene of conflict, a good deal of surprise was evinced at the appearance of Clapperton, Brinkman, Dangle, and Fullerton, in ordinary costume, and without bags, ready to accompany the party. Contrary to their expectations and hopes, no protest was made, and, as far as the Classic seniors were concerned, no notice was vouchsafed them. This was annoying, particularly as the juniors present took care to call attention to their presence. "Look at 'em," cried Wally; "don't they look clever?" "Kicked out of the team--serve 'em right!" shouted Ashby. "Who's kicked out?" retorted the Modern fags. "It would take better chaps than you to kick them out." "Don't you wish you could kick them in? They know better," retorted Percy and Co. Amid such embarrassing comments, the four Modern heroes mounted to their places. The cheers of their adherents hardly made up for the chilly welcome of their travelling companions. Yorke, seeing Clapperton looking for a place, politely moved up to make room, and then turned his back and talked to Ranger. The other three were similarly cut off, Dangle finding himself in between Fisher major and Denton, who talked across him. Brinkman, on another coach, was tucked in among some rowdy Classic middle-boys who were discussing the "strike" very vigorously among themselves. As for Fullerton, he was lucky enough to get the seat beside the driver, where, at any rate, he could count on one sympathetic soul into whose ears to pour his occasional words of wisdom. Just as the first coach was starting, a shout was heard from across the Green, and Corder, the Modern boy whose services were declined on the previous occasion, equipped in an ulster and with his bag in his hand, appeared signalling for the _cortege_ to wait. "Well! what is it?" demanded Dangle. "Is Yorke there? Yorke, can I play to-day?" "No, you can't," said Dangle in a menacing undertone. "None of us are playing; you know that." "I don't see why I mayn't play if I have the chance," said Corder. "I awfully want to play in the fifteen." "We're a man short," said Yorke. "You can play, Corder." "If you dare to come and play," said Dangle, still in a whisper, "you'll find it so precious hot for yourself afterwards that you'll be sorry for it." "Yorke says I may play," persisted Corder; "I don't see why I shouldn't." "Cad! traitor! blackleg!" yelled Percy and Co., as they saw their man mount the coach.