"We're all of us anxious for the job, that's the reason we're so silent. But I'd like to propose one as our champion who'd do us credit—Percival."
Had a thunderbolt fallen in the shed, the boys of the Fifth could not have been more startled than when they heard Paul's name. Was Newall in earnest, or was he poking fun? It was hard to tell, for the curious smile that had hovered about his lips was there no longer. It had quite vanished, and his face was the gravest amongst them.
"Percival!" he repeated with emphasis. "He's done me a lot of honour. He's done me the honour of calling you fellows together to settle a quarrel between Moncrief and me. He's done me honour in the nice things he has said of me. Well, I'd like to do him a little in turn. There can't be a greater honour than representing the Fifth as champion of the Form. It's one that I'd jump at myself, but after what has taken place, after all that Percival has said about the honour of the Form, I can only take a back seat. He comes first. So I again say, let Percival be our champion."
Notwithstanding that Paul had rarely been seen in a school fight, it was well known amongst his companions that he was a fine athlete and perfectly able to take care of himself, so with ready shouts they hailed the suggestion.
"Percival, Percival, Percival!" resounded on all sides.
CHAPTER XIV
THE CHAMPION OF HIS FORM
Paul, as may be imagined, was as much startled by Newall's proposal that he should be the champion of the Form as at the readiness with which it was taken up by his class-mates.
"Well, Percival"—the voice of Hasluck broke the silence which had followed as they waited eagerly Paul's answer—"you've heard what Newall has said, and what the Form thinks of it. What's your answer?"