"What are you doing, you idiots?"

"Stop that noise, Radowitz!" shouted Falloden. "It annoys us!"

"Can't help it. It pleases me," said Radowitz shortly, proceeding to
close the window. But he had scarcely done so, when Falloden launched
another bottle, which went smash through the window and broke it. The
glass fell out into the quadrangle, raising all the echoes. The rioters
below held their laughing breaths.

"I say, what about the dons?" said one.

"Keep a lookout!" said another.

But meanwhile Radowitz had thrown up the injured window, and crimson
with rage he leaned far out and flung half a broken bottle at the group
below. All heads ducked, but the ragged missile only just missed
Meyrick's curly poll.

"Not pretty that!--not pretty at all!" said Falloden coolly. "Might
really have done some mischief. We'll avenge you, Meyrick. Follow me,
you fellows!"

And in one solid phalanx, they charged, six or seven strong, up
Radowitz's staircase. But he was ready for them. The oak was sported,
and they could hear him dragging some heavy chairs against it.
Meanwhile, from the watchers left in the quad, came a loud cough.

"Dons!--by Jove! Scatter!" And they rushed further up the staircase,