s white-livered rogues," observed Buttar,
"so are nearly all the tyrants one reads about in history. Conscience
makes cowards of them all. Depend on it that he will hold his tongue,
and neither tell the Doctor nor any of his own special chums."

It was to be seen whether Buttar was right. The boys who had not united
with Ernest were surprised to see so many of his friends marching about
in order the whole afternoon; and even when tea was over, never less
than five or six of them were together. They looked about for Blackall,
but he did not make his appearance. The elder boys were excused from
coming in to tea on half-holidays, so there was nothing remarkable in
this, and none of his friends seemed to notice his absence. Of one
thing all Ernest's companions felt certain, that no attempt to fag them
would succeed while he remained at school.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

BLACKALL'S REVENGE AND ITS RESULTS.

Everybody remarked the sullen angry expression which Blackall's
countenance bore after the event I have just described. When any of his
associates talked to him about fagging, he frowned, and, putting out his
lips, declared that there was no use attempting to coerce the young
scamps, for that the advantage to be gained was not worth the trouble it
would cost. This was very true, but at the same time it was not an
opinion anybody would have expected from him. Whenever he met
Bracebridge, he always looked at him with an expression of intense
dislike, which he was at no pains to conceal.

The Christmas holidays were now approaching, and a long course of bad
weather kept the boys in more than usual. They consequently amused
themselves with their indoor exercises. Their broadswords and foils
were constantly in their hands during their play-hours.

One day Ernest and Buttar were fencing together. They had been at first
equally matched, but Ernest was never content unless he was perfect in
every exercise he took up, and so he had practised and practised, and
thought the matter over, till he could beat his friend thoroughly.
Buttar took his defeats very good-naturedly.

"I cannot manage as you do, old fellow," he used to observe. "You
always contrive to send my foil flying out of my hand when I fancy that
I am going to play you some wonderful trick at which I have been
practising away for the whole of the last week."

A match was just over when Blackall entered the fencing-room. His eye
fell on Ernest. Just the