“You’re our captain; we’ll obey you!” said Pringle, with a withering look at Riddell.
“What’s that you said just now?” demanded Bloomfield.
“I only said, ‘Kick him out!’” said Lawkins, somewhat doubtfully, as he noticed the black looks on the Parrett’s captain’s face.
Bloomfield made a grab at the two luckless youths, and shook them very much as a big dog shakes her refractory puppies.
“And what do you mean by it, you young cubs!” demanded he, in a rage.
“Why, we weren’t speaking to you,” whined the juniors.
“No, you weren’t; but I’m speaking to you! Take that, for being howling young cads, both of you!” and he knocked their two ill-starred heads together with a vigour which made the epithet “howling” painfully accurate. “Now beg Riddell’s pardon at once!” said he.
They obeyed with most abject eagerness.
“Mind I don’t catch you calling my friends names like that any more,” said Bloomfield. “Riddell’s captain here, and if you don’t look out for yourselves you’ll find yourselves in the wrong box, I can tell you! And you can tell the rest of your pack, unless they want a hiding from me, they’d better not cheek the captain!”
So saying, he allowed the two terrified youngsters to depart; which they did, shaking in their shoes and marvelling inwardly what wonder was to happen next.