king such an ass of himself in the second round. By-
the-way, was that last shot of Culver's below the belt?"

"It was precious close to the wind, anyhow. You leave that to me,
though. I'll make that all right."

"Thanks," said the monitor. "Something ought to be said about it, or we
shall have more of it. Well, I suppose they'll shake hands after a bit.
You might see to that, too. Ponty's sure to ask, and there ought to be
an end of it."

When Birket, half an hour later, descended to the Den he found a
revolution in active progress. Dick was the hero of the hour. His
valiant stand against solid odds, his last victorious blow, but, most of
all, the cowardly blow of his opponent, had suddenly raised him to a
pinnacle of glory which took away his breath. Culver, despite his
dress-coat, despite his exertions at levee, despite his seniority and
long service, had been ignominiously deposed from office, and subjected
to the rigour of rule 5 by an indignant and resentful populace. The
unknowing ones, who had backed him the loudest, now answered the soonest
to Heathcote's demand for retribution, and Gosse himself, who had an
hour ago whispered nothing but "hit low," now denounced the coward and
proclaimed his deposition.

By a single vote Culver was dethroned, and Dick, amid frantic cheers,
elected president in his stead. Nor did popular clamour cease there,
for Gosse was stripped of his office, too, and Heathcote unanimously
chosen secretary; and, for the first time in history, the Den did homage
to two week-old new boys, and called them its leaders.

It was scarcely possible that Dick, in the midst of all this glory,
should remain unmoved. He tried to look modest, he tried to bear
himself as though he had done nothing out of the common, he even tried
to persuade himself he would rather not accept the office thrust upon
him. But his heart swelled with pride, and his head grew light in its
lofty atmosphere.

Nor did Birket's visit tend to sober him.

"Well, youngster," said the Fifth-form boy, "you managed it at last,
then?"

"Oh, yes," said Dick, grandly, "he's not very good with his parries."

"Isn't he? He's good at coming in on your chest, my boy. Don't you be
too cocky. You're not a Tom Sayers yet."

"The last blow was below the belt, though," said Dick.

"I know. I've come to see about that."

"You needn't bother. He's been licked for it. I didn't touch him, of
course, but the other fello