And so the night wore on, and when presently it came to be our turn to lie down and sleep in the big bed, I, at any rate, did so a good deal disturbed in my spirit, and not altogether sure whether in our present escapade we Stonebridge House boys were not making rather fools of ourselves.
Chapter Eight.
How the Rebellion collapsed, and we left Stonebridge House.
I was roused next morning early by the sound of voices, and found that a fresh council of war was being held in the big bed on the question of the ultimatum. Smith was away at the time.
“I mean to say,” said Rathbone, “Smith’s far too mild to suit me.”
I felt called upon to stick up for my chum.
“Why did you make him captain?” I said. I had long got past the stage of being afraid either of Rathbone or Philpot at Stonebridge House.
“Well,” retorted the malcontent, “why doesn’t he go the whole hog?”