"You goin' out, Mr Dunstable?" inquired Sergeant Cook.

"Yes. Good bye. You'll see that we're decently buried won't you?"

The garrison made its sortie.

* * * * *

It happened that Drummond and Sheen were also among those whom it had
struck that afternoon that tea at Cook's would be pleasant; and they
came upon the combatants some five minutes after battle had been
joined. The town contingent were filling the air with strange cries,
Albert's voice being easily heard above the din, while the Wrykinians,
as public-school men should, were fighting quietly and without unseemly
tumult.

"By Jove," said Drummond, "here's a row on."

Sheen stopped dead, with a queer, sinking feeling within him. He
gulped. Drummond did not notice these portents. He was observing the
battle.

Suddenly he uttered an exclamation.

"Why, it's some of our chaps! There's a Seymour's cap. Isn't that
McTodd? And, great Scott! there's Barry. Come on, man!"

Sheen did not move.