The gag was quickly produced; but as Blackall found it being adjusted, his courage, or rather his obstinacy, gave way.
“What is it, do you say, that you want of me, you fellow?” he asked, in a very much humbled tone.
Ernest repeated the terms he had before proposed.
“As to that, I do not mean to say that I am not ready to agree to your terms,” he replied; “only just mark me, you fellows. I don’t think that I am a greater bully than others, and if you fancy that I am going to agree not to lick a fellow who is impudent, you are mistaken. I’m not going to promise any such thing. Fagging is not in vogue, so I’ll give that up for the present, but I don’t know what other big fellows will do.”
This speech of the once formidable bully was received with loud shouts by most of the younger boys, but Ernest, who knew something more than they did of human nature, did not put much confidence in what had been said, still he saw that it would be politic to release him while he remained in that humbled humour.
“Very well, Blackall,” said Ernest; “we are all glad to hear what you say, and we intend to rely on your promise; but remember that we are all united to resist aggression, and that the moment you break your promise, we shall take steps to punish you. Now release him.”
In obedience to the orders of their leader, some of the boys cast off the lashings which secured their prisoner to the tree, but they wisely took care to keep him blindfolded to the last, that he might be unable to injure them. His hands and legs being set free, they all hurried back to their ranks, where they stood in two compact bodies as before, bidding defiance to any attack he might venture to make on them.
“You may take your handkerchief off your eyes and go free,” said Ernest.
Hearing this, the humbled bully began pulling away at the handkerchief round his eyes, much to the amusement of the lookers-on, for he had considerable difficulty in untying the knot, and getting it off his head. His first movement showed clearly that he was much inclined to break the articles of peace, but when he saw the formidable array of boys drawn up on either side of him, with Bracebridge at the head of one party, and Buttar at that of the other, discretion prevailed, and with a sulky, downcast look, he turned round and walked away across the fields in an opposite direction to that which he saw the hostile armies were taking. Ernest suppressed the commencement of a cheer in which his supporters very naturally showed an inclination to indulge.
“Let him go, and treat him with the silent contempt he deserves,” he observed. “He has got a lesson which he will not easily forget; but at the same time we shall all do well not to trust him. He will not let the matter pass without trying to revenge himself on some of us.”