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“Old Bouncer stood six foot and an inch, sir, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer! And four foot round his chest was a pinch, sir, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer! Twelve stone two was his fighting weight, And he stroked our boat for the champion plate, And ran his mile in four thirty-eight, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!”

This time the heroic efforts of the melodious juniors had their reward. Before the last line was reached the door of the new captain’s study opened, and Riddell appeared in the passage. His first appearance in his new capacity was naturally a matter of curiosity on every hand; and as he approached the scene of the noise he became aware that almost every occupant of the passage was standing at his door, watching curiously for what was to happen.

He certainly did not look, as he walked nervously down the corridor, the sort of fellow to quell a riot; and any one might have prophesied that he was not likely to come off any better now than he did when he once went on a similar errand to the stronghold of the Limpets.

And yet the weeks that had elapsed since then had not been thrown away on Riddell. Would the reader like to hear what his thoughts were as he neared the scene of his trial?

“What had I better do? If I get in a rage I shall only make a fool of myself; if I report them to the doctor I shall be shirking my own work; if I remonstrate mildly and do no more, my chances in Welch’s are done for, and these fellows who are on the lookout for my failure will get their crow. I must get on the right side of these youngsters if I can, so here goes!”

With this reflection he reached the door just as the third verse of “Bouncer” commenced, the performers having carefully turned their backs so as to appear wholly unconscious of a visitor. Verse three referred altogether to the intellectual attainments of the wonderful Bouncer.

“Bouncer was the cock of the school, sir, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer! And Socrates to him was a fool, sir, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer! He could cross the ‘asses’ bridge in the dark, And ‘Hic Haec Hoc’ he thought a lark. And swallowed irregular verbs like a shark, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!”

Before this spirit-stirring recital had reached its climax one or two of the performers had found it impossible to resist a look round to see how the captain took it. So that the “surprise” at finding him standing there at its conclusion fell rather flat.

Much to the disappointment of the spectators outside, moreover, Riddell shut the door behind him. The juniors eyed him curiously. Contrary to their expectation, he neither looked frightened nor confused, but his face was as cheery as his voice as he said, “You see, I couldn’t resist your beautiful music.”

Was he in jest or earnest? Did he really mean he had enjoyed the chorus, or was he poking fun at them? They could not quite tell.

“Oh,” said Cusack, not quite as defiantly, however, as he could have wished, “that’s a song we sing among ourselves, isn’t it, you fellows?”

“Ah!” said Riddell, before “the fellows” could chime in, “it’s good fun belonging to a musical set — especially for songs like this, that appear to have several tunes all sung at once! You should give a concert.”

The boys looked more perplexed than ever. It sounded like chaff, and yet they could scarcely believe it was. So they smiled vacantly at one another, and began to feel the situation a little awkward.

“I suppose,” continued Riddell, feeling his way carefully—“I suppose between nine and ten is the usual time for singing in Welch’s? I fancied it was before supper!”

“Oh!” said Pilbury, “we do as we like here.”

“Do you, really?” replied the captain. “How jolly that must be!”

Cusack and Pilbury could hardly tell why they laughed at this very innocent observation, but they did, and Riddell was quick enough to see his advantage.

“You know, I’d be very sorry to interfere with the beautiful music,” he said; “but do you think you could get to like not to sing after supper?”

The boys stared as if they were not quite sure yet how to take it. However, the captain made himself clear without further delay. “The fact is,” said he, a trifle nervously, but in his friendliest tones—“the fact is — I don’t know what you think, but I’d be awfully glad if you fellows would back me up for a week or two in Welch’s. Of course, you know, the doctor’s put me here, and I don’t suppose you’re much alarmed by the move, eh? You needn’t be.”

“We aren’t,” said Morgan, in a decidedly mild attempt at heroism.

“I’m glad of that,” said the captain; whereat the rest of the company laughed at the unlucky Morgan, who had quite expected the joke to go the other way. “You know,” continued Riddell, sitting upon the table and talking as familiarly as though he were in his own study, “I’d rather like if among us we could pull Welch’s up a bit before the end of the term. It seems rather a shame, for instance, we didn’t have a boat on the river these races, and that there’s not a single Welcher in the first eleven.”

“It’s a beastly shame!” said Philpot. “Bloomfield’s down on us, you know; he’s got a spite against us.”

“Oh! I don’t know,” said Riddell. “I fancy if we’d got some good enough men he’d be only too glad to put them in. After all, the glory of the school is the chief thing.”

“Tucker and Silk will never practise,” said Cusack. “I know I would if I’d got the chance.”

“Well, I don’t see why you shouldn’t start the House Cricket Club this year, at any rate,” said Riddell.

“That’s just what Tucker and Silk won’t do. We wanted them to do it, didn’t we, Pil?”

“Rather!” said Pil; “and they told us to mind our own business.”

“Suppose we start it ourselves?” suggested the captain; “I’m a Welcher now, you know. I don’t see why, because Tucker and Silk object, the whole house should be done out of its cricket.”

“No more do I,” said Philpot.

“They’ll kick up a jolly row with us, though,” said Morgan.

“I don’t think so,” said Riddell. “At any rate, that’s no reason why there shouldn’t be a club.”

“All serene!” said Cusack, warming up to the notion, and quite forgetting “Bouncer.”

“I say, Riddell, couldn’t we start it now?”

“Yes, certainly,” said Riddell; “why not? I propose Cusack be the secretary.”

“Oh, I say!” cried that youth, blushing, half with pleasure and half with embarrassment; “you’d better be that, Riddell.”

“Oh, no,” said Riddell, laughing, “I don’t know the fellows so well as you. If you were secretary, and Pilbury or Philpot treasurer, I’d be president, or something of that sort, if you like.”

The idea of the new club took like wildfire, and an enthusiastic consultation followed. It was resolved to summon a meeting next day of all who took an interest in the sport, and to arrange for a trial match at once. Riddell went as warmly into the details as any one, and took every opportunity of working up the patriotic spirit of his younger companions.

“You know,” said he, “I don’t see at all why we shouldn’t be able to get together a team for the junior elevens if we practise hard.”

“The nuisance is,” said Cusack, “we’re stopped an hour a day’s play all this term.”

“What for?” inquired the captain.

The melancholy story of Mr Parrett and the sulphuretted hydrogen was recounted.