"Bombard him first!" said Falloden. "Who's got some soda-water
bottles?" And he beckoned imperiously to a neighbouring group of
men,--"bloods"--always ready to follow him in a "rag," and heroes
together with him of a couple of famous bonfires, in Falloden's
first year.

They came up, eager for any mischief, the summer weather in their veins
like wine. They stood round Falloden laughing and chaffing, till finally
three of them disappeared at his bidding. They came rushing back, from
various staircases, laden with soda-water bottles.

Then Falloden, with two henchmen, placed himself under Radowitz's
windows, and summoned the offender in a stentorian voice:

"Radowitz! stop that noise!"

No answer--except that Radowitz in discoursing some "music of the
future," and quite unaware of the shout from below, pounded and
tormented the piano more than ever. The waves of crashing sound seemed
to fill the quadrangle.

"We'll summon him thrice!" said Falloden. "Then--fire!"

But Radowitz remained deaf, and the assailant below gave the order.
Three strong right arms below discharged three soda-water bottles, which
went through the open window.

"My goody!" said Meyrick, "I hope he's well out of the way!" There was a
sound of breaking glass. Then Radowitz, furious, appeared at his window,
his golden hair more halolike than ever in the bright sun.