The company interposed after a few rounds, and none too soon for the damaged though still lion-hearted Bowler.
Crashford profited nothing by his victory, for it was decided unanimously to exclude him from the tent till he chose to apologise for his treachery; and meanwhile the remains of the slender provisions were taken into safe custody out of his reach.
The day wore on, and the rain fell heavier and heavier upon the ulster- roof over their heads.

The wind whistled drearily above them, and the mainland was entirely lost to sight.

As far as they were concerned they might be in the real New Swishford, a thousand miles from the nearest land.
They huddled together silently, no one caring much to speak.

Only Braintree broke the monotony by shivering audibly, and the footsteps of Crashford, as he paced up and down outside to keep warm, added a dreary variety to the silence.
The afternoon drew on, and at last Bowler said-- "Better let the beggar in." "Hadn't we better all turn out and see what's to be done ?" said Gayford.
"We shall only come to grief here.

The grub won't hold out for another meal, and then it'll be something more than a joke." "Come on, then, you fellows," said Bowler.