"Who's our fellow?" demanded Sedgefield, breaking the silence which followed this announcement.
"Percival."
Baldry gave a prolonged whistle of surprise.
"How's that? Why, Percival has always set his back against fighting, and all the fellows are saying that it was to keep Moncrief major from fighting Newall that he called a meeting of his form."
"I dare say. He seemed to be steering that way till that little turncoat, Mellor, came on the scene with a challenge from the Beetles."
"A challenge from the Beetles!" cried Baldry. "Tell us all about it."
Plunger told them all about it. And never had any one more attentive listeners than Plunger had as he related to them all that had happened at the meeting in the shed. Not the least interested were Harry Moncrief and Hibbert.
"Paul going to fight," Harry repeated to himself. "I do so hope he'll win!" Then, remembering the words in which his father had once spoken of Paul, he added: "Win or lose, I'm certain Paul will bear himself bravely."
Hibbert closed his eyes in the darkness, and prayed: "Watch over Percival—keep him from harm. For Christ's sake. Amen."
The boy had not forgotten Paul's kindness to him. It stood out as the one bright spot in his memory since he had come to Garside. For once he was allowed to sleep without pillows being thrown at him, the clothes pulled from him by means of a carefully-arranged cord, and playful tricks of that sort, of which both he and Harry had been the victims as the latest recruits to the dormitory. The great event of the morrow caused everything else to be forgotten.