“You see, Williams,” said Russell, “Barker is an enormously strong fellow, and that makes the younger chaps, whom he fags, look up to him as a great hero.  And there isn’t one in our part of the school who can thrash him.  Besides, people never do interfere, you know—­at least not often.  I remember once seeing a street-row in London, at which twenty people stood by, and let a drunken beast of a husband strike his wife without ever stirring to defend her.”

“Well,” sighed Eric, “I hope my day of deliverance will come soon, for I can’t stand it much longer, and ‘tell’ I won’t, whatever Owen may do.”

Eric’s deliverance came very soon.  It was afternoon; the boys were playing at different games in the green playground, and he was waiting for his turn at rounders.  At this moment Barker lounged up, and calmly snatching off Eric’s cap, shied it over Dr. Rowlands’ garden wall.  “There, go and fetch that.”

“You blackguard!” said Eric, standing irresolutely for a few minutes; and then with tears in his eyes began to climb the wall.  It was not very high, but boys were peremptorily forbidden to get over it under any circumstances, and Eric broke the rule not without trepidation.  However, he dropped down on one of Mrs. Rowlands’ flower-beds, and got his cap in a hurry, and clambered back undiscovered.

He thought this would have satisfied his tormentor for one day; but Barker was in a mischievous mood, so he again came up to Eric, and calling out, “Who’ll have a game at football?” again snatched the cap, and gave it a kick; Eric tried to recover it, but every time he came up Barker gave it a fresh kick, and finally kicked it into a puddle.

Eric stood still, trembling with rage, while his eyes lightened scorn and indignation.  “You hulking, stupid, cowardly bully,”—­here Barker seized him, and every word brought a tremendous blow on the head, but blind with passion Eric went on—­“you despicable bully, I won’t touch that cap again, you shall pick it up yourself.  Duncan, Russell, here! do help me against this intolerable brute.”

Several boys ran up, but they were all weaker than Barker, who besides was now in a towering fury, and kicked Eric unmercifully.

“Leave him alone,” shouted Duncan, “or by heaven I’ll get you a sound thrashing from some fellow.”

“I won’t; mind your own business,” growled Barker, shaking himself free from Duncan’s hand.

“Barker, I’ll never speak to you again from this day,” said Montagu, turning on his heel with a look of withering contempt.

“What do I care? puppy, you want taking down too,” was the reply, and some more kicks at Eric followed.

“Barker, I won’t stand this any longer,” said Russell; and seizing him by the arm, he dealt him a swinging blow on the face.

The bully stood in amazement, and dropped Eric, who fell on the turf nearly fainting, and bleeding at the nose.  But now Russell’s turn came, and in a moment Barker, who was twice his weight, had tripped him up, when he found himself collared in an iron grasp.