CHAPTER EIGHT.
HOW THE REBELLION COLLAPSED, AND WE LEFT STONEBRIDGE HOUSE.
I was roused next morning early by the sound of voices, and found that a fresh council of war was being held in the big bed on the question of the ultimatum.

Smith was away at the time.
"I mean to say," said Rathbone, "Smith's far too mild to suit me." I felt called upon to stick up for my chum.
"Why did you make him captain ?" I said.

I had long got past the stage of being afraid either of Rathbone or Philpot at Stonebridge House.
"Well," retorted the malcontent, "why doesn't he go the whole hog ?" "Depends on what you call the whole hog," I replied.
"Why, instead of feeding them up like fighting-cocks I'd starve them--I would.

And I'd have locked them all together in an empty garret, and not in rooms with sofas and beds and all that nonsense.

And I wouldn't let them out till they came out on their knees and promised to do whatever they were ordered.