The sentiment was loudly applauded, and a regular council of war was held, with the following decision. We four were to go home together that afternoon, and without waiting to be chased, would ourselves give chase to the first bully we saw, and take his cap! The consequences of course might be fearful—fatal; but the blood of the “Jenny Wrenites” was up. Do it we would, or perish in the attempt.
I think we all got a little nervous as the afternoon school wore on and the hour for departing approached. Indeed, when we were about to start, Bates looked very like deserting straight away.
“Oh, you three go on,” he said, “I’ll catch you up; I just want to speak to Jenny.”
“No we don’t,” we all protested; “we’ll wait here, if it takes you till midnight to say what you’ve got to say to Jenny.”
This valiant determination put an end to Bates’s wavering, and with a rueful face he joined us.
“Now, mind,” said Rasper, “the first you see!”
“Well,” exclaimed I, starting suddenly to run, “that’s Cad Prog, the butcher-boy, there; come along.”
So it was! Of all our enemies Cad Prog was the most truculent, and most feared. The sight of his red head coming round the corner was always enough to strike panic into a score of youngsters, and even we bigger boys always looked meek when Prog came out to defy us.
He was strolling guilelessly along, and didn’t see us at first. Then suddenly he caught sight of us approaching, and next moment the blue apron and red head disappeared with a bolt round the corner.
“Come on!” shouted Rasper, who led.