"That's the leader of the Fourth Form Opposition—young Osbody from Holbeck's House," explained Roger. "Impossible to take his criticism seriously. Matter of creed with him to oppose whatever Arkness says. Listen—all the 'Squirms' will back him up in slating us."
The title of "The Squirms" had been invented by Robin Arkness for the discomfiture of his rivals, and was not, perhaps, unfair to them on the whole, as they seemed to have the unhappy knack of drawing to their side some of the least wholesome of Foxenby's Juniors. Among the shortcomings of a few of them was a disregard for the laws of hygiene—in other words, a rooted dislike to soap and water. In the matter of personal cleanliness Foxenby's reputation stood high, and the small minority who fell below the standard were deservedly unpopular.
The "Squirms" justified Roger's inference by shrilly attacking the Rag—not because they had intelligent fault to find with it, but because they felt compelled to dissent from "Robin Hood's" views in any case. Word-thrusts were given without mercy and taken without flinching. The Merry Men were accused of becoming subscribers only to curry favour with the captain; the Merry Men retaliated by declaring that fear of Harwood's ash-stick prejudiced the Squirms in the Foxonian's favour. All these verbal fireworks would have gone off harmlessly but for the amazing conduct of one particular Squirm, who, during a breath-taking lull, had the nerve to speak well of the Rag.
"I say, all you chaps," he chimed in, "The Foxonian's all right, of course, but you can't help admitting that Rooke's House Rag is a jolly sight better got up—first easily in quality of paper and style of printing!"
What a set-back for the Squirms! The Merry Men uttered an ironical cheer at this falling away from the enemy's ranks, and Osbody rounded furiously on his weak-kneed supporter. "Shut up, Mawdster, you ass!" he cried. "When you're asked for your opinion, give it—not sooner, unless it's a split lip you're seeking."
"Oh, please, Osbody," Robin intervened, in mock terror, "don't split poor Mawdster's lip. If you do he might have to wash his india-rubber collar before Christmas!"
Now, Osbody himself being always irreproachable in tidiness, Robin well knew that this exaggerated taunt would touch his rival's pride more than anything. But even Robin was unprepared for the speed with which Osbody leapt at him and hit him in the face. A rough-and-tumble in the "Forest", well screened by tall evergreens, was a safe amusement compared with a free fight in the school-yard itself.
Keeping cool, Robin warded off Osbody's blows without attempting to retaliate.
"Don't be a loon, Osbody," he said. "Wanting to scrap here, right beneath the windows—it's a madman's trick. Come and settle it in the 'Forest'."
But feeling ran too high for compromise now. The swift attack on their chief had fired the blood of the Merry Men. Each selected an antagonist and went for him, so that Dick and Roger, peeping cautiously through the curtains, were the uncomfortable witnesses of a pitched battle, of which their editorial venture was the primary cause.