"This is an advertisement we didn't bargain for, Roger," said Dick.
"Hang it, yes! There'll be a miniature eruption of Vesuvius if the Old Man hears of it. Not another prefect about, of course."
"We must run downstairs and nip it in the bud, Roger."
"Most inconveniently for us. Can't we lie 'doggo', Dick?"
"Indeed, no. It's up to us, old man. I've winked at these little Donnybrooks in the shrubbery, but discipline goes overboard for 'keeps' if we let them paint one another's eyes beneath our windows."
"Seems a pity to interfere when our side's getting the best of it!"
It was the voice of the tempter, but Dick heeded it not.
"Stay here, Roger. No good both of us courting unpopularity," said Dick, and Roger, ever a failure as a disciplinarian, willingly remained behind. Unseen himself, he watched the captain hop between the infuriated combatants.
"Ease off, you hooligans!" Forge said. "This is a school-yard, not a cockpit. Boys of Rooke's House will report to me at my study after tea. The rest of you will be reported to the head prefect of Holbeck's House for—for" (he was about to say fighting, but withdrew it in favour of a softer term) "unseemly behaviour. No back talk, now, any of you; clear!"
The Juniors scattered sulkily and formed up again in opposite corners of the yard. In the bright light of the moon Dick watched them long enough to gather that his interference had not been taken philosophically. One Merry Man, of whose identity he was not certain, took out a copy of the Rag and ostentatiously tore it up. It was whisked away by the warm wind to join other spurned copies in the bushes.