he pot can be won by a pack of well-drilled
louts."

Randall's began to stink in the nostrils of the whole school, for their
elation at their successes was always characteristic. They revelled
with a serious, unconvincing revelry. Other houses always celebrated
the occasion by demanding and obtaining ices (in mid-December) at the
school tuck-shop: it was a tradition and a noble one. Randall's gorged
themselves with lumps of bread and ham.

Martin happened to walk back to Berney's just behind Cullen and Neave.
He would not have spoken to them had they not turned and addressed him.
It was condescension, and he appreciated it.

"Hullo," said Cullen. "What about old Gideon?"

"I don't know," answered Martin. "Can't anything be done."

"Possibly. Do you remember what you said last night?"

"For Gideon and the Lord?"

"Yes."

"What about it?"

"We'll let you know in dormy to-night."

"Good. That's ripping."

Proceedings in the lower dormy that evening were unusual. Silence was
called and then Neave read from the book of Judges:

"And the three companies blew the trumpets, and brake the pitchers, and
held the torches in their left hands, and the trumpets in their right
hands to blow withal: and they cried, The sword of the Lord, and of
Gideon."

Then he continued: "That, my brethren, is the text. And what is its
lesson for us here in a community such as ours?" There was a laugh,
for he was beautifully constructing a lay sermon on Foskett's lines.
"Only to avenge our Gideon very mightily with pitchers. To-morrow
night, as you may know, is the last night of term and our brothers next
door" (Cries of "Swine" and counter-cries of "Order") "will hold a
supper to celebrate their triumph in the playing-field. Now it is a
good tradition of the Public Schools and a byword among clean-living
Englishmen" (Laughter, for it was sheer Foskett) "that we do pass the
last night of term in what my form master would call--thorubos. A
Greek word, O Stinkers of the Modern Side. My brothers, it is up to us
to infect Randall's with thorubos or disorder. (Cheers and a voice,
"What about pitchers?")."

"Ah, my young friend, you hit the nail on its head. As everybody
knows, to get on to Randall's gym is as easy as falling downstairs.
From there you can get to the fire ladders and up to Randall's dormies.
To-morrow night it is proposed to invade the dormies while the whole
house gorges below and listens to slush about