The return journey of a school team after a crushing defeat in aforeign match is never a very exhilarating business. Those members ofthe side who have not yet received their colours are wondering which ofthem is to be sacrificed to popular indignation and "chucked": therest, who have managed to get their caps, are feeling that even nowtwo-thirds of the school will be saying that they are not worth a placein the third fifteen; while the captain, brooding apart, is becomingsoured at the thought that Posterity will forget what little good hemay have done, and remember only that it was in his year that theschool got so many points taken off them by So-and-So. Conversationdoes not ripple and sparkle during these home-comings. The Wrykyn teammade the journey in almost unbroken silence. They were all stiff andsore, and their feelings were such as to unfit them for talking topeople.

　　The school took the thing very philosophically--a bad sign. When aschool is in a healthy, normal condition, it should be stirred up by abad defeat by another school, like a disturbed wasps' nest. Wrykyn madeone or two remarks about people who could not play footer for toffee,and then let the thing drop.

　　Sheen was too busy with his work and his boxing to have much leisurefor mourning over this latest example of the present inefficiency ofthe school. The examination for the Gotford was to come off in twodays, and the inter-house boxing was fixed for the following Wednesday.

　　In five days, therefore, he would get his chance of retrieving his lostplace in the school. He was certain that he could, at any rate make avery good show against anyone in the school, even Drummond. Joe Bevanwas delighted with his progress, and quoted Shakespeare volubly in hisadmiration. Jack Bruce and Francis added their tribute, and the knifeand boot boy paid him the neatest compliment of all by refusingpoint-blank to have any more dealings with him whatsoever. Hisprofessional duties, explained the knife and boot boy, did not includebeing punched in the heye by blokes, and he did not intend to be putupon.

　　"You'll do all right," said Jack Bruce, as they were motoring home, "ifthey'll let you go in for it all. But how do you know they will? Havethey chosen the men yet?""Not yet. They don't do it till the day before. But there won't be anydifficulty about that. Drummond will let me have a shot if he thinksI'm good enough.""Oh, you're good enough," said Bruce.

　　And when, on Monday evening, Francis, on receipt of no fewer than fourblows in a single round--a record, shook him by the hand and said thatif ever he happened to want a leetle darg that was a perfect bag oftricks and had got a pedigree, mind you, he, Francis, would be proud tosupply that animal, Sheen felt that the moment had come to approachDrummond on the subject of the house boxing. It would be a littleawkward at first, and conversation would probably run somewhat stiffly;but all would be well once he had explained himself.