of secrecy about everything they did that appealed to every romantic
notion of the youngsters looking on. What was the stormy outcome of it
all is now presently to be told.



CHAPTER 12

Thus it was that Myles, with an eye to open war with the bachelors,
gathered a following to his support. It was some little while before
matters were brought to a crisis--a week or ten days. Perhaps even Myles
had no great desire to hasten matters. He knew that whenever war was
declared, he himself would have to bear the brunt of the battle, and
even the bravest man hesitates before deliberately thrusting himself
into a fight.

One morning Myles and Gascoyne and Wilkes sat under the shade of two
trees, between which was a board nailed to the trunks, making a rude
bench--always a favorite lounging-place for the lads in idle moments.
Myles was polishing his bascinet with lard and wood-ashes, rubbing the
metal with a piece of leather, and wiping it clean with a fustian rag.
The other two, who had just been relieved from household duty, lay at
length idly looking on.

Just then one of the smaller pages, a boy of twelve or thirteen, by name
Robin Ingoldsby, crossed the court. He had been crying; his face was red
and blubbered, and his body was still shaken with convulsive sniffs.

Myles looked up. "Come hither, Robin," he called from where he sat.
"What is to do?"