And yet as he stood there a moment irresolute, it flashed across him that whatever the cost he must not enter upon a fight with Silk.
Of course he would be called a coward, and nothing he could say could prove he wasn’t. He was no match for Silk, and consequently his refusal to defend himself would be called fear.
“And yet,” thought he, “if I fight, my chance in Welch’s is gone, even if I were able to beat him. The fellows will have no more respect for me than any other rowdy, and will soon enough make my thrashing an excuse for mutiny.”
It was a hard position for any boy, and the courage required to hold him back cost Riddell more effort than had he blindly rushed into the fray and given himself up to be thrashed.
“Will you fight?” shouted Silk, advancing.
“No,” said Riddell, as coolly as he could.
“Wretched coward!” exclaimed the bully, “of course you won’t. Then take what you deserve. I’ll give you the biggest hiding you ever had in your life.”
He would probably have carried out his threat, and Riddell would probably before half a minute have given up all further idea of non-resistance, when an opportune diversion occurred in the person of Telson, who appeared with the remainder of his late senior’s possessions from the schoolhouse.
“I say, Riddell,” he exclaimed, almost before the door was open, “here’s a jolly go! I’ve got to be that beast Gilks’s fag, and— Hullo! what’s up?”
This remark was caused by Silk’s suddenly turning on his heel and hurrying from the study without putting into execution his threat.