“I say,” said he, after the two had waited impatiently some time, each for his own expected schoolfellow, “did you see much of the fight last night?”

“No,” said Riddell, “I didn’t see it at all.”

“Oh, hard lines. I got there late, as I went to tell Telson. Gilks used his right too much, you know. We both thought so. He keeps no guard to speak of, and— Hullo! where on earth have you been all this time?”

This last exclamation was in honour of Telson, who appeared on the scene at that moment, and with whom the speaker joyfully departed, leaving Riddell only half informed as to the scientific defects in Gilks’s style of boxing.

In due time Bloomfield appeared, not a little curious to know the object of this early interview.

Riddell, too, was embarrassed, for the last time they met they had parted on anything but cordial terms. However, that had nothing to do with his duty now.

“Good-morning,” he said, in reply to Bloomfield’s nod. “Do you mind taking a turn? I want to tell you something.”

Bloomfield obeyed, and that morning any one who looked out might have witnessed the unusual spectacle of the Willoughby captains walking together round the quadrangle in eager conversation.

“You heard of the fight?” said Riddell.

“Yes; what about it?” inquired Bloomfield.

“I’ve reported it. And last night Silk came to me and asked me to get back the names.”

“You won’t do it, will you?” asked Bloomfield.

“No. But the reason why Silk wanted it was because he was afraid of something else coming out. He says it was Gilks who cut the rudder-lines.”

“What! Gilks?” exclaimed Bloomfield, standing still in astonishment. “It can’t be! Gilks was one of us. He backed our boat all along!”

“That’s just what I can’t make out,” said the captain; “and I wanted to see what you think had better be done.”

“Have you asked Gilks?” inquired Bloomfield.

“No. I thought perhaps the best thing was to wait till they had been up to the doctor. They may let out about it to him, if there’s anything in it. If they don’t, we should see what Gilks says.”

“If it had been your lines that were cut,” said Bloomfield, “I could have believed it. He had a spite against all your fellows, and especially you, since he was kicked out of the boat. But he had betted over a sovereign on us, I know.”

“I shouldn’t have believed it at all,” said Riddell, “if Silk hadn’t sent me an anonymous note a week or two ago. Here it is, by the way.”

Bloomfield read the note.

“Did you go and see the boat-boy?” he asked.

“Yes; and all I could get out of him was that some one had got into the boat-house that night, and scrambled out of the window just in time to avoid being seen. But the fellow, whoever he was, dropped a knife, which I managed to get from Tom, and which turned out to be one young Wyndham had lost.”

“Young Wyndham! Then it was true you suspected him?”

“It was true.”

And then the captain told his companion the story of the complication of misunderstandings which had led him almost to the point of denouncing the boy as the culprit; at the end of which Bloomfield said, in a more friendly tone than he had yet assumed, “It was a shave, certainly. Young Wyndham ought to be grateful to you. He’d have found it not so easy to clear himself if you’d reported him at once.”

“I dare say it would have been hard,” said Riddell.

“I’m rather ashamed of myself now for trying to make you do it,” said Bloomfield.

“Oh, not at all,” said Riddell, dreading as he always did this sort of talk. “But, I say, what do you think ought to be done?”

“I think we’d better wait, as you say, till they’ve been to Paddy. Then if nothing has come out, you ought to see Gilks.”

“I think so, but I wish you’d be there too. As captain of the clubs, you’ve really more to do with it than I have.”

“You’re captain of the school, though,” said Bloomfield, “but I’ll be there too, if you like.”

“Thanks,” said Riddell.

And the two walked on discussing the situation, and drifting from it into other topics in so natural a way that it occurred to neither of them at the time to wonder how they two, of all boys, should have so much in common.

“I shall be awfully glad when it’s all cleared up,” said Riddell.

“So shall I. If it is cleared up the credit of it will belong to you, I say.”

“Not much credit in getting a fellow expelled,” said Riddell.

“Anyhow, it was to your credit sticking by young Wyndham as you did.”

“I was going to report him for it, though, the very day the matter was explained.”

“Well, all the more credit for making up your mind to an unpleasant duty like that when you might have shirked it.”

The bell for chapel began to ring at this point.

“There goes the bell,” said Bloomfield. “I say, how should you like to ask me to breakfast with you? I’d ask you to my room, only our fellows would be so inquisitive.”

Riddell jumped at the hint with the utmost delight, and to all the marvels of that wonderful term was added this other, of the two Willoughby captains breakfasting tête-à-tête, partaking of coffee out of the same pot and toast cut off the same loaf.

They talked far more than they ate or drank. It was more like the talk of two friends who had just met after a long separation, than of two schoolfellows who had sat shoulder to shoulder in the same class-room for weeks. Bloomfield confided all his troubles, and failures, and disappointments, and Riddell confessed his mistakes, and discouragements, and anxieties. And the Parrett’s captain marvelled to think how he could have gone on all this term without finding out what a much finer fellow the captain of the school was than himself. And Riddell reproached himself inwardly for never having made more serious efforts to secure the friendship of this honest, kind-hearted athlete, and gradually these secret thoughts oozed out in words.

Bloomfield, as was only natural and only right, took to himself most of the blame, although Riddell chivalrously insisted on claiming as much as ever he could. And when at last this wonderful meal ended, a revolution had taken place in Willoughby which the unsuspecting school, as it breakfasted elsewhere, little dreamed of.

“Upon my honour we have been fools,” said Bloomfield: “that is, I have. But we’ll astonish the fellows soon, I fancy. Do you know I’ve a good mind to break bounds or have a fight with some one just to make you give me an impot!”

“As long as you don’t do anything which calls for personal chastisement,” said the captain, laughing, “I’ll promise to oblige you.”

“I say,” said Bloomfield, as the bell for first school was beginning to ring, “I’m glad we — that is I — have come to our senses before old Wyndham comes down. His young brother has persuaded him to come and umpire for the school in the Templeton match.”

Riddell’s face became troubled.

“I hope young Wyndham may be here himself. You know, Silk threatened that unless I withdrew the names he would tell the doctor about that affair of Beamish’s and get Wyndham expelled to spite me.”

Bloomfield laughed.

“Not he. It’s all brag, depend on it. But why on earth doesn’t the young ’un go and make a clean breast to the doctor, before he gets to know of it any other way?”

“That’s just the worst of it. They made him promise he wouldn’t say a word about it to any one, and he’s such an honest young beggar that even though Silk tells of him, he won’t tell of Silk.”

“That’s awkward,” said Bloomfield, musing. “Did he tell you about it, then?”

“No. His mouth was shut, you see. If I hadn’t found out about it from Parson and Telson, who saw the three of them coming out, I shouldn’t have known it till now.”

Bloomfield’s face brightened.

“Then you found it out quite independently?” asked he.