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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Acton's Feud, by Frederick Swainson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Acton's Feud
+       A Public School Story
+
+Author: Frederick Swainson
+
+Release Date: January 25, 2005 [EBook #14772]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACTON'S FEUD ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Beginners Projects, Marie Stelly, Bruce
+Thomas and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+(https://www.pgdp.net).
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: ACTON DROPPED TO THE GROUND LIKE A BLUDGEONED DOG.]
+
+     ACTON'S FEUD
+
+
+     A PUBLIC SCHOOL STORY
+
+     BY
+     FREDERICK SWAINSON
+
+     1901
+
+     WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+     LONDON
+     GEORGE NEWNES, LIMITED
+     SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND
+     1901
+
+     AD MATREM
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+  I. THE FOUL                                   1
+
+  II. THE PENALTY                               8
+
+  III. THE REGENERATION OF BIFFEN'S HOUSE      15
+
+  IV. BIFFEN'S PROGRESS                        22
+
+  V. COTTON AND HIS JACKAL                     27
+
+  VI. THE LAST CAP                             36
+
+  VII. THANKS TO ACTON                         49
+
+  VIII. BIFFEN'S CONCERT                       57
+
+  IX. THE END OF TERM                          65
+
+  X. THE YOUNG BROTHER                         75
+
+  XI. TODD PAYS THE BILL                       88
+
+  XII. RAFFLES OF ROTHERHITHE                  93
+
+  XIII. "EASY IS THE DOWNWARD ROAD"            99
+
+  XIV. IN THE STABLE                          106
+
+  XV. GRIM'S SUSPICIONS                       112
+
+  XVI. TODD "FINDS HIMSELF"                   119
+
+  XVII. RAFFLES' BILL                         126
+
+  XVIII. HODGSON'S QUIETUS                    133
+
+  XIX. HOW THEY "'ELPED THE PORE FELLER"      138
+
+  XX. ACTON'S TRUMP CARD                      146
+
+  XXI. LONDON AND BACK                        156
+
+  XXII. THE PENFOLD TABLET FUND               161
+
+  XXIII. BOURNE _v._ ACTON                    170
+
+  XXIV. A RENEWED FRIENDSHIP                  179
+
+  XXV. A LITTLE ROUGH JUSTICE                 187
+
+  XXVI. THE MADNESS OF W.E. GRIM              194
+
+  XXVII. CONCERNING TODD AND COTTON           204
+
+  XXVIII. ACTON'S LAST MOVE                   209
+
+  XXIX. WHY BIFFEN'S LOST                     215
+
+  XXX. THE END OF THE FEUD                    225
+
+
+ACTON'S CHRISTMAS
+
+  I. SNOWED UP                                237
+
+  II. OVER THE FELLS                          248
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+ACTON DROPPED TO THE GROUND LIKE A BLUDGEONED DOG             Frontispiece
+
+PHIL WALKED DOWN THE STEPS WITHOUT A FRIENDLY CHEER                40
+
+ACTON JUST REACHED IT WITH HIS HEAD                                50
+
+AS THE TRAIN MOVED, GRIM SAID, "THREE CHEERS!"                     74
+
+ACTON THREW HIM INTO THE SNOW-HEAP                                 78
+
+A LITTLE YELLOW, EAR-TORN DOG BUSTLED OUT OF SOME SHED             94
+
+"I'M GOING TO HAVE THE SEVEN TEN, OR SHOW YOU UP"                 128
+
+THE GREEN POWDER UNDERWENT SOME WEIRD EXPERIMENTS                 142
+
+HE PUSHED UP HIS WINDOW AND CRAWLED THROUGH                       160
+
+"CUT, YOU MISERABLE PUPPY"                                        172
+
+HE GAVE ME A LONG, STEADY LOOK OF HATRED                          204
+
+AS THE HORSES WHIRLED PAST, HE CLUTCHED MADLY AT THE LOOSE REINS  226
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE FOUL
+
+
+Shannon, the old Blue, had brought down a rattling eleven--two
+Internationals among them--to give the school the first of its annual
+"Socker" matches. We have a particular code of football of our own, which
+the school has played time out of mind; but, ten years ago, the
+Association game was introduced, despite the murmuring of some of the
+masters, many of the parents--all old Amorians--and of Moore, the Head,
+who had yielded to varied pressures, but in his heart thought "Socker"
+vastly inferior to the old game. Association had flourished exceedingly;
+so much so that the Head made it a law that, on each Thursday in the
+Michaelmas term, the old game, and nothing but the old game, should be
+played, and woe betide any unauthorized "cutters" thereof. This was almost
+the only rule that Corker never swerved a hair's breadth from, and bitter
+were the regrets when Shannon had sent word to Bourne, our captain, that
+he could bring down a really clinking team to put our eleven through their
+paces, if the match were played on Thursday. Saturday, on account of big
+club fixtures, was almost impossible. Corker consented to the eleven
+playing the upstart code for this occasion only, but for the school
+generally the old game was to be _de rigueur_.
+
+So on this Thursday pretty well the whole school was out in the Acres,
+where the old game was in full swing; and, though I fancy the players to a
+man would have liked to have lined up on the touch-line in the next field
+and given Shannon the "whisper" he deserves, O.G. claimed them that
+afternoon for its own, and they were unwilling martyrs to old Corker's
+cast-iron conservatism. Consequently, when Bourne spun the coin and
+Shannon decided to play with the wind, there would not be more than
+seventy or eighty on the touch-line. Shannon asked me to referee, so I
+found a whistle, and the game started.
+
+It was a game in which there seemed to be two or three players who served
+as motive forces, and the rest were worked through. On one side Shannon at
+back, Amber the International at half, and Aspinall, the International
+left-winger, were head and shoulders above the others; on our side, Bourne
+and Acton dwarfed the rest.
+
+Bourne played back, and Acton was his partner. Bourne I knew well, since
+he was in the Sixth, and I liked him immensely; but of Acton I knew only a
+little by repute and nothing personally. He was in the Fifth, but, except
+in the ordinary way of school life, he did not come much into the circle
+wherein the Sixth moves. He was brilliantly clever, with that sort of
+showy brilliance which some fellows possess: in the exams, he would walk
+clean through a paper, or leave it untouched--no half measures. He was in
+Biffen's house and quite the most important fellow in it, and no end
+popular with his own crowd, for they looked to him to give their house a
+leg up, both in the schools and in the fields, for Biffen's were the
+slackest house in St. Amory's. He played football with a dash and vim good
+to see, and I know a good few of the eleven envied him his long, lungeing
+rush, which parted man and ball so cleanly, and his quick, sure kick that
+dropped the ball unerringly to his forwards. He was not in the eleven; but
+that he would be in before the term was over was a "moral." He was
+good-looking and rather tall, and had a certain foreign air, I thought;
+his dark face seemed to be hard and proud, and I had heard that his temper
+was fiery.
+
+Bourne had chosen him to play against Shannon's team, and as Acton bottled
+up the forwards on his wing Bourne felt that the school's future right
+back would not be far to seek.
+
+I soon saw that the school was not quite good enough for the others:
+Shannon was almost impassable, and Amber, the half, generally waltzed
+round our forwards, and when he secured he passed the ball on to Aspinall,
+who doubled like a hare along the touch-line. The question then was "Could
+Acton stop the flying International, who spun along like Bassett
+himself?" And he did, generally; or, if he could not, he forced him to
+part with the ball, and either Baines, our half, lying back, nipped in and
+secured, or Bourne cleared in the nick of time. Nine times out of ten,
+when Acton challenged Aspinall, the International would part with the ball
+to his inside partner; but twice he feinted, and before either of the
+school backs could recover, the ball was shot into the net with a high and
+catapultic cross shot. Again and again the game resolved itself into a
+duello between Acton and Aspinall, and Bourne, when he saw the dealings
+with the International and his wiles, smiled easily. He saw the school was
+stronger than he thought.
+
+The interval came with the score standing at two against us. When I
+started the game again I found that our fellows were pulling along much
+better with the wind, and that some of Shannon's men were not quite so
+dangerous as before, for condition told. We quickly had one through, and
+when I found myself blowing the whistle for a second goal I began to think
+that the school might pull through after all. Meanwhile Acton and Aspinall
+were having their occasional tussles, though somewhat less often than
+before, and three or four times the school back was overturned pretty
+heartily in the encounters.
+
+Though there was not a suspicion of unfairness or temper on Aspinall's
+part, I fancied that Acton was getting rather nettled at his frequent
+upsets. He was, I considered, heavier than Aspinall, and much taller, so I
+was both rather waxy and astonished to find that he was infusing a little
+too much vigour into his tackling, and, not to put too fine a point on it,
+was playing a trifle roughly. Aspinall was bundled over the touch-line a
+good half-dozen times, with no little animus behind the charge, and
+ultimately Bourne noticed it. Now, Bourne loathed anything approaching bad
+form, so he said sharply to Acton, though quietly, "Play the game, sir!
+Play the ball!" Acton flushed angrily, and I did not like the savage way
+he faced round to Bourne, who was particularly busy at that moment and did
+not notice it. The game went on until within about five minutes from time.
+Amber had been feeding Aspinall assiduously for the last ten minutes, and
+Acton had, despite his cleverness, more than he could really hold in the
+flying International. He stalled off the attack somehow, and Bourne always
+covered his exertions, so that it seemed as if there would be a draw after
+all. At last the ball was swung across, and Aspinall was off on a final
+venture. Acton stuck to him like a leech, but the winger tipped the ball
+to his partner, and as Acton moved to intercept the inside, the latter
+quickly and wisely poked the ball back again to Aspinall. He was off again
+in his own inimitable style, and I saw him smile as he re-started his run.
+I rather fancy Acton saw it too, and accepted the smile as a sneering
+challenge; anyhow, he set his lips and I believe made up his mind that in
+any case Aspinall should not get the winning goal. How it exactly happened
+I cannot say, but as Aspinall was steadying himself, when at top speed,
+for an almost point-blank delivery, I saw Acton break his own stride,
+shoot out his leg, and the next moment the International was stumbling
+forward, whilst the ball rolled harmlessly onward into our goal-keeper's
+hands. I could hardly believe my own eyes, but it was a deliberate trip,
+if ever there was one! Aspinall tried to recover himself, failed, and came
+with a sickening crash against the goal-post. I blew the whistle and
+rushed to Aspinall; his cheek was bleeding villainously and he was deadly
+pale. I helped him up, and he said with his usual smile--who could mistake
+it for a sneer?--"Thanks, old man. Yes, I do feel a bit seedy. That back
+of yours is an animal, though." He tried hard to keep his senses; I saw
+him battling against his faintness, but the pain and shock were too much
+for him; he fell down again in a dead faint.
+
+We improvised a hurdle and carried him up to the school. Acton, pale to
+the lips, prepared to bear a hand, but Bourne unceremoniously took him by
+the arm and said with concentration, "No thanks, Acton. We'll excuse
+you--you beastly cad!" I heard Bourne's remark, though no one else saw or
+heard. Acton's hand closed involuntarily, and he gave Bourne a vitriolic
+look, but did nothing nor said anything. We took Aspinall up to
+Merishall's--his old house--where he was staying, and left him there still
+unconscious.
+
+What astonished me was that no one save Bourne had noticed the trip, but
+when I came to think it over the explanation was easy. Acton had, whether
+from accident or of purpose, "covered" his man and blocked the view from
+behind. I myself had not really _seen_ the trip, but it would have
+been plainly visible for any one opposite on the touch-line, and luckily
+there was no one opposite. The goal-keeper might have seen it, but Roberts
+never attends to anything but the ball--the reason he's the fine keeper
+that he is. Bourne had actually seen it, being practically with Acton, and
+I knew by his pale face and scornful eyes that he would dearly have liked
+to kick Acton on the spot.
+
+I was, as you may guess, intensely pleased that no one had an idea of the
+foul except Bourne and myself, for I could imagine vividly where the
+rumour of this sort of "form" would spread to. We'd hear of it for years
+after.
+
+I mentally promised that Acton should have a little of my opinion on the
+matter on the first opportunity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE PENALTY
+
+
+I arranged to see Bourne that evening, when we should have heard the
+doctor's report on Aspinall. In the evening Bourne strolled into my room,
+looking a little less gloomy than I expected. "Briggs says that there is
+nothing broken, and that as soon as Aspinall gets over the shock he will
+be all right. The cut may leave a scar, but that will be about all. All
+the same, Carr, I think that's too heavy a price to pay for the bad temper
+of one of our fellows who can't stand a tumble into the mud at 'footer.'
+You saw the villainy, didn't you?"
+
+"I can't say I actually saw him trip, but there's no doubt whatever that
+it was an abominable foul."
+
+"None at all. I saw him, worse luck, tolerably plainly."
+
+"Do you know anything about him?"
+
+"Practically nothing."
+
+"I think Biffen's rather fancy he's going to lift them out of the mire."
+
+"Can't say I envy them their champion."
+
+"What strikes me as odd is that such a magnificent player should do such a
+vile trick."
+
+"Rum, certainly. The affair will give quite a professional touch to our
+'Socker' fixtures, and the Carthusians will ask us to bar our bullies when
+they come down again. Oh, this _is_ sweet!"
+
+"I say, Bourne, this business must not move one inch further. You've
+spoken to no one?"
+
+"Is it likely?"
+
+"We'll not have any of our dirty linen washed _coram populo_, old
+chap. Frightful bad form. No one knows but you, Aspinall, and self."
+
+"Surely Aspinall will----"
+
+"You don't know Aspinall, old man. He'd shrivel up sooner than say a word
+more. Bet you he'll speak of it as an accident. Remember, he was captain
+of the school here once."
+
+"Which makes it a blacker shame than ever," said Bourne, wrathfully.
+
+"I've inquired casually of the Fifth, and it seems our friend once
+distinguished himself in the gym. Lost his temper--as _per
+recipe_--and Hodgson had to knock him down before he could see that
+we put on the gloves here for a little healthy exercise, and the pleasure
+of lifting some of the public schools championships. He, however,
+apologized to Hodgson, but I don't think he'll do the honourable here."
+
+"Then, the chief attraction of the beauty is its temper?"
+
+"Or want of it."
+
+"Who is he, anyhow?"
+
+"Yorkshire people, I believe. Own half a town and no end of coin. Been to
+school in France and Germany, and consequently came here rather late. I
+know his head-piece Is all right, and I imagine his amiability is only a
+little foreign blood working its way out. He will be with us in the Sixth
+at Christmas."
+
+"Delightful prospect. What I want to know is--how are we to settle this
+business as far as he is concerned? Ought Moore to know?"
+
+"I don't think so. Never trouble Corker more than you can help, old man.
+That's a tip for you when I'm gone. Besides, masters generally mishandle
+affairs of this sort. I rather fancy I'll put it to Aspinall when he pulls
+through."
+
+"Do. One thing, though, is pretty certain. He'll never get his cap as long
+as I'm captain of the footer eleven. I'd rather come out of it myself."
+
+"Of course. I see there's no help for that, but, all the same, it will
+make complications. What a pity he _can_ play!"
+
+"It is, for he is a back out of a thousand."
+
+Bourne's voice had in it a ring of genuine regret, and whilst I could
+almost have smiled at his unaffectedly tragic tone, I could see the vista
+which his resolution opened up. I heard the school shouting at Bourne to
+let the finest player out of the eleven in, and all the shouting would be
+across "seas of misunderstanding." I know Bourne saw the difficulties
+himself, and he left my study soon after with a rather anxious look on his
+face. Personally I determined not to think about the matter until I had
+seen Aspinall. From the very first I had never expected any help from
+Acton. There was something about the whole of his bearing in the caddish
+business that told me plainly that we would have to treat him, not as a
+fellow who had been betrayed to a vile action by a beastly temper and was
+bitterly sorry for it, but as a fellow who hated us for finding it out.
+
+I saw Aspinall two days later, and as we walked towards the station I
+broached the matter.
+
+"Certainly; I thought he tripped me, but he has written me and said how
+sorry he was for my accident, so, of course, it rests there."
+
+"Candidly, Aspinall, have you any doubt yourself?"
+
+"No, old fellow. I'm sorry, but I really think he tripped me. He was riled
+at a little hustling from Shannon's lot, and I may have upset him myself
+occasionally. But it is a small matter."
+
+I looked at the bandages across his cheek, and I didn't think it small.
+
+"But, Aspinall, even if we leave you out of the business, it isn't a small
+matter for us, especially for Bourne."
+
+"Well, no; hardly for you," he admitted. "'Twas a piece of sheer bad form.
+It shouldn't be done at our place at all."
+
+"If you were in Bourne's place would you bar him his place in the eleven?"
+
+Aspinall considered a full minute.
+
+"On the whole, I think I should--at least, for one term; but I'd most
+certainly let him know why he was not to have his cap--privately, of
+course. I should not like it to get about, and I do not fancy Acton will
+say much about it."
+
+That night Bourne and I crossed over to Biffen's, and waylaid Acton in his
+den. I'm pretty sure there wasn't another room like his in the whole
+school. No end of swell pictures--foreign mostly; lovely little books,
+which, I believe, were foreign also; an etching of his own place up in
+Yorkshire; carpets, and rugs, and little statuettes--swagger through and
+through; a little too much so, I believe, for the rules, but Biffen
+evidently had not put his foot down. Acton was standing on the hearthrug
+with his back to the fire, and on seeing us he politely offered us chairs
+with the air of a gentleman and a something of grace, which was a trifle
+foreign.
+
+I saw that Acton's polite cordiality nettled Bourne more than a little,
+but he solemnly took a chair, and in his blunt, downright fashion, plunged
+headlong into the business.
+
+"Only came to say a word or two, Acton, about Thursday's match."
+
+"A very good one," he remarked, with what Corker calls "detached
+interest." "Aspinall's accident was more than unfortunate."
+
+"The fact is," said Bourne, bluntly, "neither Carr nor I believe it was an
+accident."
+
+"No? What was it, then? Every one else thought it was, though."
+
+"We know better. We know that you deliberately fouled him, and----"
+
+Acton paled, and his eyes glittered viciously, though he said calmly,
+"That is a lie."
+
+"And," continued Bourne, "though there is not a fellow even a respectable
+second to you at 'footer,' I shall not give you your cap as long as I am
+captain of the eleven. That is all I came to say."
+
+Acton said quite calmly (why was he so uncommonly cool, I asked
+myself?)--though his face was red and white alternately: "Then listen
+carefully to what I say. I particularly wanted to have my footer cap--why,
+does not concern any one but myself--and I don't fancy losing it because a
+couple of fellows see something that a hundred others couldn't see, for the
+sufficient reason that there wasn't anything to see. I shall make no row
+about it; and, since you can dole out the caps to your own pet chums, and
+no one can stop you--do it! but I think you'll regret it all the same. I'm
+not going to moan about it--that isn't my way; but I really think you'll
+regret it. That is all; though"--this with a mocking sneer--"why it
+requires two of you to come and insult a man in his own room I don't
+understand."
+
+"I came to say that if you'd apologize to Aspinall things might
+straighten."
+
+"Might straighten! Oh, thanks!" he said, his face looking beastly
+venomous. "I think you'd better go, really."
+
+So we went, and I could not but feel that Bourne was right when he said on
+parting, "Our friend will make himself superbly disagreeable over this,
+take my word for it! But he won't get into the eleven, and I won't have a
+soul know that old Aspinall's scar is the work of a fellow in St. Amory's,
+either. If they have to know, he must tell them himself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE REGENERATION OF BIFFEN'S HOUSE
+
+
+To say that Acton was upset by our visit and our conversation and Bourne's
+ultimatum would be beside the mark; he was furious, and when he had cooled
+down somewhat, his anger settled into a long, steady stretch of hate
+towards us both, but especially towards Bourne. He simmered over many
+plans for getting "even" with him, and when he had finally mapped out a
+course he proceeded, as some one says, "diligently to ensue it;" for Acton
+was not of that kind to be "awkward" as occasion arose, but there was
+method in all his schemes.
+
+It so happened that Worcester was captain of Biffen's house, and also of
+Biffen's "footer" team. My own opinion was that poor old Worcester would
+have given a lot to be out of such a house as Biffen's, and I know he
+utterly despised himself for having in a moment of inexplicable weakness
+consented to be permanent lead to Biffen's awful crowd on the Acres. He
+died a thousand deaths after each (usual) annihilation. Worcester and
+Acton had nothing in common, and, except that they were in the same house
+and form, they would not probably have come to nodding terms. Worcester,
+of course, looked up to the magnificent "footer" player as the average
+player looks up to the superlative. After the first game of the season,
+when Acton had turned out in all his glory, Dick had thereupon offered to
+resign his captaincy, even pressing, with perhaps suspicious eagerness,
+Acton's acceptance of that barren honour. But Acton did not bite. Captains
+were supposed to turn out pretty well every day with their strings, and
+Acton was not the sort of fellow to have his hands tied in any way. So he
+had gently declined.
+
+"No, old man. Wouldn't dream of ousting you. You'll get a good team out of
+Biffen's yet. Plenty of raw material."
+
+"That's just it," said Worcester, naively; "it is so jolly raw."
+
+"Well, cook it, old man."
+
+"It only makes hash," said Worcester, with a forlorn smile at his own
+joke.
+
+But now Acton thought that the captaincy of Biffen's might dovetail into
+his schemes for the upsetting of Bourne, and therefore Dick's proposal was
+to be reconsidered. Thus it was that Worcester got a note from Acton
+asking him to breakfast.
+
+Worcester came, and his eyes visibly brightened when he spotted Acton's
+table, for there was more than a little style about Acton's catering, and
+Worcester had a weakness for the square meal. Acton's fag, Grim, was busy
+with the kettle, and there was as reinforcement in Dick's special honour,
+young Poulett, St. Amory's champion egg-poacher, sustaining his big
+reputation in a large saucepan. Worcester sank into his chair with a sigh
+of satisfaction at sight of little Poulett; he was to be in clover,
+evidently.
+
+"That's right, Worcester. That _is_ the easiest chair. Got that last
+egg on the toast, Poulett? You're a treasure, and so I'll write your
+mamma. Tea or coffee, Dick? Coffee for Worcester, Grim, tea for me. Pass
+that cream to Worcester, and you've forgotten the knife for the pie.
+You're a credit to Sharpe's, Poulett; but remember that you've been
+poaching for Biffen's footer captain. That's something, anyhow. Don't
+grin, Poulett; it's bad form. Going? To Bourne's, eh? I can recommend you,
+though it would be no recommendation to him. You can cut, too, Grim, and
+clear at 9.30. See the door catches."
+
+Grim scuttled after the renowned egg-poacher, and Worcester and Acton were
+left alone. When Worcester was fed, and had pushed back his chair, Acton
+broached the business to which the breakfast was the preliminary.
+
+"Fact is, Worcester, I've been thinking how it is that Biffen's is the
+slackest house in the place."
+
+"Oh! it's got such a plucky reputation, you know. The kids weep when
+they're put down for Biffen's. Give a dog a bad name--"
+
+"But why the bad name?"
+
+"Dunno! Perhaps it's Biffen. I think so, anyhow. At any rate, there's not
+been a fellow from the house in the Lord's eleven or in the footer eleven,
+and in the schools Biffen's crowd always close the rear. By the way, how
+did you come among our rout?"
+
+"I think mater knew Biffen; that's the explanation."
+
+"Rather rough on you."
+
+"Don't feel anything, really, Worcester."
+
+"Well, Biffen has got a diabolical knack of picking up all the loose ends
+of the school; all the impossible fellows gravitate here: why, look at our
+Dervishes!" (Dervish was the slang for foreigners at St. Amory's.)
+
+"We've certainly got more than our share of colour."
+
+"That's Biffen's all the world over," said Dick, with intense heat; "you
+could match any colour between an interesting orange and a real jet black
+among our collection. Biffen simply can't resist a nigger. He must have
+him. What they come to the place at all for licks me. Can't the
+missionaries teach 'em to spell?"
+
+"_La haute politique_," suggested Acton.
+
+"Of Sarawack or Timbuctoo?" said Worcester, with scorn. "Bet my boots that
+Borneo one's governor went head-hunting in his time, and the darkest
+African one's knows what roasted man is."
+
+Acton laughed, for a nigger was to Worcester as a red rag to a bull. "St.
+Amory's for niggers!" Dick would say with intense scorn.
+
+"Anyhow," said Acton, "I think there's no need for us to be quite so
+slack."
+
+"You'll pull us up a bit?" said Dick, with genuine admiration.
+
+"Thanks. But I meant the whole house generally."
+
+"Not much good. We're Biffen's, that never did nor never shall, etc."
+
+"I don't know. There's sixty of us, barring your niggers; we ought to get
+eleven to look at a football with a business eye out of that lot, you
+know."
+
+"We ought to, but don't."
+
+"We ought to do something in the schools too."
+
+"We ought to, but don't, though Raven is in for the Perry Exhibition.
+Guess he won't pull it off, though."
+
+"We'll see about that, too," said Acton. "As for the niggers--"
+
+"Oh, never mind them!" burst in Worcester. "Without humbug, Acton, do you
+really want our house to move a bit?"
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"Well, then, consent to captain our footer eleven and we give ourselves a
+chance, for I can't make the fellows raise a gallop at any price, and I
+somehow think you can. Have a try. If you are sick of it at Christmas,
+I'll come in again; honour bright. It isn't too good-natured of me to ask
+you to pull Biffen's out of the mud, but you're the only fellow to do it
+if it can be done. Will you?"
+
+"You wouldn't mind resigning?"
+
+"By Jove, no!" said Worcester, precipitately.
+
+"Don't mention it. Not at all, old man, not at all."
+
+"Well, I've been thinking that, if you didn't mind, I'd like to try my
+hand on our crowd; though, since you don't move 'em, there can't be much
+chance for me to do anything smart."
+
+"That doesn't follow, for you aren't me, old man."
+
+"Then I'll have a shot at it."
+
+Worcester grasped Acton's hand, as the French say, "with emotion."
+
+"But the house will have to elect me, you know; perhaps they'd fancy Raven
+as captain. He can play decently, and they know him."
+
+"Well, Biffen's are a dense lot, but I'm hanged if even their stupidity
+would do a thing like that. They've seen you play, haven't they?"
+
+"Thanks. Fact is, Dick, I feel a bit bored by the patronage of Taylor's
+and Merishall's, and Sharpe's and Corker's, and all the rest of the
+houses."
+
+"Oh! Biffen's laid himself out for that, you must see."
+
+"I don't fancy Bourne's sneers and Hodgson's high stilts."
+
+"Haven't noticed either," said Dick.
+
+"H'm!" said Acton, rather nettled by Dick's dry tone. "I have. As for the
+niggers--"
+
+"The other houses despise us on their account. We're the Dervish Camp to
+the rest."
+
+"As for the niggers, they shall do something for Biffen's too," said
+Acton, rather thoughtfully.
+
+"You mean in the sing-songs? Well, they'll spare the burnt cork
+certainly."
+
+"Well, that's an idea too," said Acton, laughing, "but not the one I had.
+That will keep."
+
+Worcester might have some curiosity to know what Acton's idea was, but he
+wasn't going to inquire anything about the niggers.
+
+"It's awfully brickish of you, Worcester," said Acton, as Grim was heard
+trotting up the corridor "to stand down."
+
+"Not at all; the sacrifice is on your altar."
+
+"Then _allons_. Here's Grim knocking, and I've to see Corker at 9.40.
+You'll excuse me."
+
+Grim came in and commenced to clear away, and the two sallied out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BIFFEN'S PROGRESS
+
+
+That day, after morning school, Biffen's held a meeting, and thereat Acton
+was proposed captain by Worcester and seconded by Raven; and Biffen's
+confirmed Worcester's qualified opinion of their sense by electing him
+_nem. con_.
+
+From that day Acton threw his heart and soul into the regeneration of
+Biffen's. There did not pass an afternoon but that he turned out for
+footer, and coached, encouraged, bullied, stormed, praised each individual
+member of the team with the strictest impartiality and Spartan justice.
+
+The smallest fault was dragged out into the light of day, and commented on
+with choice fulness, and any clever concerted piece of work got its due
+reward. Acton would stand no half-hearted play; he wanted the last ounce
+out of his men. The fellows stared a bit at first at his deadly
+earnestness, so unlike Dick's disgusted resignation at their shortcomings;
+but they found the change refreshing on the whole, for they could stand a
+lot of bullying from a fellow like Acton, who never seemed to make a
+mistake, or to have an off-day, and who could give stones and a beating to
+the best man among them. They respected his skill, and buckled to the work
+in hand. In about a fortnight there was a suggestion of style about the
+moving of some of the fellows up the field. Worcester backed up Acton with
+whole-hearted enthusiasm, and Raven was lost in wonder at the forward
+movement. This backing Acton found rather useful, for Dick and Raven were
+as popular as any in St. Amory's.
+
+Some of the fellows were inclined to turn restive after about a fortnight,
+when the novelty of earnestness in football had worn off, but Acton's
+demands were as inexorable as ever. Matters came to a head (probably, as I
+expect, to the new captain's inward satisfaction) when his girding upset
+Chalmers--about the best forward of Biffen's regenerated lot. There was to
+be a match with some of the Fifth for the Saturday, and Acton had arranged
+a preliminary canter the day before to test his attack. Chalmers was the
+winger, but on the day he was tremendously selfish, and stuck to the ball
+until he was robbed or knocked off it. Now, Acton loathed the "alone I did
+it" type of forward, and asked Chalmers pretty acidly what his inside man
+was for. This riled Chalmers considerably, for he had a large private
+opinion about his own play, and he said pretty hotly, "Mind your own
+business, Acton."
+
+Acton said very coolly, "I am going to do so. Please remember, Chalmers,
+this is not a one-horse show."
+
+"Seems distinctly like it, judging by the fellow who's been doing all the
+talking for the last age."
+
+"Play the game, and don't be an ass."
+
+"I object to being called an ass," said Chalmers, in a white rage.
+
+"Well, mule, then," said Acton, cheerfully. "Anything to oblige you,
+Chalmers, bar your waltzing down the touch-line to perdition. You're not a
+Bassett nor a Bell yet, you know."
+
+Chalmers would dearly have liked to have struck Acton, but Worcester
+looked so utterly disgusted at the whole business, that I fancy it was
+Dick's eye that suggested to Chalmers his getting into his coat and
+sweater. He did so, and stalked angrily off the field.
+
+Now, Chalmers really liked the game, and did not fancy being crossed out
+of the eleven, which Acton would almost certainly proceed to do; so that
+night after tea, he went to Worcester's study, and boarded Dick.
+
+"Apologize to Acton," said Dick.
+
+"But he called me an ass!"
+
+"You were one," said Dick, dryly. "Acton's putting in a lot of work over
+the slackest house that ever disgraced the old school, and this is how
+he's treated. Ass is a mild term."
+
+Chalmers went to Raven.
+
+"Apologize," said Raven.
+
+"He called me a mule," urged Chalmers, despairingly.
+
+"So you were. I quite expected to see the kicking begin, really. Acton's
+sweating no end to screw us up to concert-pitch, and flat mutiny is his
+reward. Apologize, and help us win the Fifth to-morrow."
+
+So Chalmers moved reluctantly across to Acton's and made his apology.
+
+"Don't mention it," said Acton, cheerfully. "Sorry I upset you, Chalmers,
+but you elected me captain, and I do want a little success in the houses,
+and how can we get it if the fellows don't combine? Say no more about it;
+I was rather afraid you weren't going to come, which is the unadorned
+truth."
+
+This last delicate touch, which showed Chalmers that, without the apology,
+his captain had meant to cut him adrift, _sans_ hesitation, and yet
+contained a pretty little compliment to his footer, embarrassed Chalmers
+more than a little; but Acton offered his forward tea and muffins, and
+five minutes afterwards Chalmers was finding out what a nice fellow Acton
+really could be. The next day Chalmers smoothed his ruffled feelings by
+piling on three goals against the Fifth, who sneaked off the Acres five
+goals to the bad. This was the first time for ages that Biffen's had
+tasted blood, and the news of the victory staggered others besides the
+victims. There was quite a flutter among the house captains, and Acton, by
+the way, had no more mutinies.
+
+"Without haste, without rest," Biffen's captain started his second project
+for the elevation of his house. He had noticed what none of the other
+fellows would condescend to see, that two of the despised niggers of
+Biffen's were rather neat on the bars. He spent a quarter of an hour one
+evening quietly watching the two in the gym, and he went away thoughtful.
+Singh Ram and Mehtah thereupon each received a polite note, and "could
+they call about seven in Acton's study?" They came, and Acton talked to
+them briefly but to the point. When they sought their quarters again they
+were beaming, and "Singed" Ram carried a fat book of German physical
+exercises under his arm.
+
+"Am I not coming out strong?" said Acton, laughing to himself, "when I set
+the very niggers a-struggling for the greater glory of Biffen's--or is it
+Acton's? Then, there's that exhibition, which we must try to get for this
+double-superlative house. Raven must beat that Sixth prig Hodgson, the
+very bright particular star of Corker's. Would two hours' classics, on
+alternate nights, meet his case? He shall have 'em, bless him! He shall
+know what crops Horace grew on his little farm, and all the other rot
+which gains Perry Exhibitions. Hodgson may strong coffee and wet towel
+_per noctem_; but, with John Acton as coach, Raven shall upset the
+apple-cart of Theodore Hodgson. There's Todd in for the Perry, too, I
+hear. Hodgson may be worth powder and shot, but I'm hanged if Raven need
+fear Cotton's jackal! If only half of my plans come off, still that will
+put Philip Bourne in a tighter corner than he's ever been in before.
+Therefore--_en avant!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+COTTON AND HIS JACKAL
+
+
+As I said before, the victory of the despised Biffenites over the Fifth
+Form eleven--a moderate one, it is true--caused quite a little breeze of
+surprise to circulate around the other houses, which had by process of
+time come to regard that slack house as hopeless in the fields or in the
+schools. Over all the tea-tables that afternoon the news was commented on
+with full details; how Chalmers had gained in deadliness just as much as
+he had lost in selfishness, and how Raven and Worcester had worked like
+horses, and mown down the opposition--"Fifth Form opposition!" said the
+fags, with a lift of the eyebrows--like grass, and as for Biffen's new
+captain, well, if there was one player who could hold a candle to him it
+must be Phil Bourne, and he only.
+
+In the Rev. E. Taylor's house, Cotton senior, who answered to the name of
+"Jim" among his familiars, and was "Bully Cotton" to his enemies--every
+Amorian below the Fifth, and a good sprinkling elsewhere--and Augustus
+Vernon Robert Todd, who was "Gus" to every one, sat at tea together in
+Todd's room. Cotton had been one of the slain that afternoon on the Acres,
+and was still in his footer clothes, plus a sweater, which almost came up
+to his ears. There was a bright fire in the grate, and though Todd's room
+was not decorative compared with most of the other fellows' dens, yet it
+was cheerful enough. Cotton had come back from the match hungry and a
+trifle bruised from a smart upset, only to find his own fire out, and
+preparations for tea invisible. Having uttered dire threats against his
+absent, erring fag, he moved into his friend's room, and the two clubbed
+together their resources, and the result was a square meal, towards which
+Cotton contributed something like 19/20, A.V.R. Todd's share being limited
+to the kettle, the water, and the fire. When Cotton had satisfied his
+footer appetite, he turned down his stocking and proceeded vigorously to
+anoint with embrocation his damaged leg, the pungent scent of the liniment
+being almost ornamental in its strength.
+
+"How did you get that, Jim?" said Gus, surveying the brawny limb with
+interest.
+
+"Acton brought me down like a house, my boy."
+
+"Fair?"
+
+"Oh yes; but you've got to go down if he catches you in his swing."
+
+"You fellows must have played beautifully to let Biffen's mob maul you to
+that extent."
+
+"Gus, my boy, instead of frowsing up here all the afternoon with your
+books, you should have been on the touch-line watching those Biffenites at
+their new tricks. Your opinion then would have a little avoirdupois. As it
+is, you Perry Exhibit, it is worth exactly nothing."
+
+"You're deucedly classical to-night, Jim."
+
+"Oh, I'm sick of this forsaken match and all the compliments we've had
+over it. I'm going now to have a tub, and then we'll get that Latin paper
+through, and, thirdly, I'll have the chessmen out."
+
+"Sorry, I can't, Jim," said Todd, discontentedly. "There is that beastly
+Perry Scholarship--I must really do something for that!"
+
+"Thomas Rot, Esq.!" said Cotton. "Haven't you been a-cramming and
+a-guzzling for that all this afternoon? You've a duty towards your chums,
+Toddy, so I tell you."
+
+"That's all very well, Jim, for you, who are going to break some crammer's
+heart, and then crawl into the Army through the Militia, but my pater
+wants me to do something in the Perry, I tell you."
+
+"Chess!" said Cotton, disregarding Todd's bleat, and then, with a sly
+smile, he added, "Shilling a game, Gus, and you know you always pull off
+the odd one."
+
+"All right," said Todd, swallowing the bait with forlorn eagerness; "I'll
+have the board set out if you must come in."
+
+"Oh, I must!" said Cotton, with a half-sneer at Todd's anxiety to pick up
+a small sum. "Clear the table, and we'll make a snug evening of it."
+
+Todd's method of clearing a table was novel, if not original. He carried
+it bodily into Cotton's room, and then returned with his friend's
+mahogany, which was undoubtedly more ornamental than his own.
+
+Acton was absolutely right when he sneeringly called Gus "Cotton's
+jackal." Todd was exactly of the material which makes a good jackal,
+though he never became quite Jim Cotton's toady. He was a sharp, selfish
+individual, good-looking in an aimless kind of way, with a slack, feeble
+mouth, and a wandering, indecisive glance. He had a quick, shallow
+cleverness, which could get up pretty easily enough of inexact knowledge
+to pass muster in the schools. Old Corker knew his capabilities to a hair,
+and would now and then, when Gus offered up some hazy, specious
+guess-work, blister him with a little biting sarcasm. Todd feared the
+Doctor as he feared no one else. Todd's chief private moan was that he
+never had any money. His father was a rich man, but had some ideas which
+were rather rough on his weak-kneed son. He tipped poor Gus as though he
+were some thrifty hairdresser's son, and Todd had to try to ruffle it with
+young Amorians on as many shillings as they had crowns. Not a lad who ever
+had naturally any large amount of self-respect, the little he had soon
+went, and he became, while still a fag, a hewer of wood and drawer of
+water to his better-tipped cronies. His destiny finished when, on his
+entry into the Fifth, Jim Cotton claimed him, and subsidized him as his
+man.
+
+At the beginning of the term his father had told him that if he could make
+a good show in the Perry Exhibition there need not be any more grumbling
+about his tip. Gus came back to St. Amory's hysterically anxious to cut
+out all competitors for the Perry, but the shackles of his old serfdom
+were still about him. When he showed signs of being restive to the old
+claims, and recommended Cotton to do his own classics and mathematics,
+Cotton coolly and calmly demanded repayment of sundry loans contracted of
+old. Todd had not the pluck to face a term of plain living and high
+thinking by paying his former patron all he owed him and exhausting all
+his present tip by so doing, but flabbily, though discontentedly, caved
+in, and became Cotton's jackal as before.
+
+Cotton was by no means as bad as his endearing name might make you think.
+He was a tall, heavy fellow, with a large, determined-looking face. He was
+wonderfully stupid in the schools, but was quite clever enough to know it.
+He had some good qualities. He was straight enough in all extra-school
+affairs, did not lie, nor fear any one; kept his word, and expected you to
+keep yours.
+
+"You can't beat Hodgson of the Sixth, Gus, so what is the good of sweating
+all the term? Hodgson's got the deuce of a pull over you to start with."
+
+"I'm not frightened of Hodgson if you wouldn't bother, Jim."
+
+"Can't do without you, old cock. You're just the fellow to lift my Latin
+and those filthy mathematics high enough out of the mud to keep the beaks
+from worrying me to death. I tried Philips for a week, but he did such
+weird screeds in the 'unseens' that Merishall smelt a rat, and was most
+particular attentive to me, but your leverage is just about my fighting
+weight."
+
+Gus had sniffed discontentedly at this dubious compliment; but Cotton had
+smiled stolidly, and continued to use Gus as his classical and
+mathematical hack. Besides, there was something about Gus's easy-going
+lackadaisical temperament which exactly suited Cotton, and he felt for his
+grumbling jackal a friendliness apart from Gus's usefulness to him.
+
+This afternoon had been a fair sample of Todd's usual half-holiday.
+Feeling no heart for any serious work for the Perry, he had spent it in
+reading half a worthless novel, and skimming through a magazine, and
+feeling muddled and discontented in consequence. He had the uneasy feeling
+that he was an arrant ass in thus fooling time away, but had not
+sufficient self-denial to seize upon a quiet afternoon for a little
+genuine work.
+
+Cotton soon returned from his bath, and the two cronies spent about an
+hour in getting up the least modicum of their classics which would satisfy
+Merishall; and then they played chess, by which Gus was one florin richer.
+A third game was in progress, but Todd managed to tip over the board when
+he was "going to mate in five moves." Cotton thereupon said he had had
+enough, but Gus avariciously tried to reconstruct the positions. He failed
+dismally, and Cotton laughed sweetly. Now Cotton's laugh would almost make
+his chum's hair curl, so he retorted pretty sweetly himself, "I say, Jim.
+I can't get out of my head that awful hammering you fellows got this
+afternoon. Think Biffen's lot likely to shape well in the House matches?"
+
+"There's no telling, old man. But if they get moderate luck they'll be
+waltzing about in the final."
+
+"That's absolute blazing idiocy!" said Todd, knocking over more chessmen
+in his astonishment.
+
+"All right, Gus. To talk absolute blazing idiocy is my usual habit, of
+course. They may carry off the final even, but that, perhaps, is a tall
+order."
+
+Todd nursed his astonishment for a full five minutes, whistling
+occasionally, as at some very fantastic idea. At last he said more
+seriously: "Aren't you now, Jim, really pulling my leg?"
+
+"No, honour bright! Biffen's are really eye-openers."
+
+Gus said with infinite slyness: "Look here, I'll bet you evens Biffen's
+_don't_ pull off the final."
+
+"Oh, that is rot, Gus, to talk about betting, for you can't pay if you
+lose."
+
+Gus had not too much sensitiveness in his character, but this unmeant
+insult stung him.
+
+"You've no right to say that. I've paid all I've ever betted with you."
+
+Cotton considered heavily in his own mind for a moment. "That is almost
+true, but--"
+
+"Well, what do you mean--" began Todd, in a paddy.
+
+"All right," said Cotton; "shut up, confound you! I'll take you."
+
+"Three quid Biffen's are not cock-house at 'footer.'"
+
+"Done," said Cotton, unwillingly pulling out his note-book; "and straight,
+Todd, I shall expect you to pay if you lose."
+
+"Oh, shut up, Cotton, you cad! I shall pay if I lose, man. What do you
+want to keep on insulting me like that for?"
+
+"Steady, Gus. You'll have Taylor up if you howl like that. I meant
+nothing."
+
+"Nothing!" said Gus in a fury, seeking for something particularly sweet to
+say to his patron. "I jolly well hope, then, that if our house should meet
+'em in the rounds you will do your little best to put a stopper on their
+career. Don't, for the sake of pulling off your bet, present 'em with a
+few goals. You 'keep' for our house, you know."
+
+"Oh, dash it all, Todd," said Cotton, in a white rage, "you are a bounder!
+Think I'd sell my side?" he demanded furiously.
+
+"Ah!" said Gus, delighted at having got through Cotton's skin. "You don't
+stomach insults any more than I do. Then why do you ladle them out so
+jolly freely to me?"
+
+"That was a particularly low one," said Cotton angrily; "and anyway, you
+avaricious beggar, you've got thundering good terms, for it is hardly
+likely that Biffen's can really be cock-house. There's Corker's house,
+with Bourne and Hodgson and a few more good men. You're a sight more
+likely to see my three sovs, that I am yours."
+
+"I hope so," said Gus, with some relief at the anticipation of this
+pleasant prospect.
+
+Then the anger of the two simmered down, each having given and received
+some very choice compliments, and as these little breezes were usual
+between the two, ten minutes afterwards they were amiably entertaining
+each other. Cotton was putting up a pair of dumb-bells three hundred
+times, and his crony was counting and criticising his form. The Perry
+Exhibition did not enter Todd's head, but his bet--"such a gilt-edged
+one," he chuckled--was never once out of it. And Todd's bet had some
+momentous consequences for him, too.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE LAST CAP
+
+
+While Acton was thus making such strenuous exertions to lift Biffen's out
+of the mire, Bourne was finding out the whole unpainted beauty of the
+situation--as far as it concerned himself.
+
+The experimental footer elevens were chosen in what, I believe, is the
+usual manner. The old members of the school eleven formed a committee, and
+chose fellows to play in the weekly matches, and if any one of them showed
+special talent he was, of course, retained, and by-and-by the captain gave
+him his school cap, and he was henceforth a full-blown member of the
+eleven, with a seat on the committee like any of the old gang.
+
+There were left of the last year's team five players--Bourne, Mivart,
+Vercoe, Baines, and Roberts. The final promotion of fellows into the
+eleven, however, rested with the captain alone, and when he considered any
+fellow good enough he signified the same by presenting him with the blue
+and silver cap of St. Amory.
+
+The giving away of a cap had become quite a function. Whenever there was
+the rumour that some one was to have a cap after a match, pretty well the
+whole school swarmed round the pavilion, and when the new member came out
+in all the glory of his new blue and silver he got the cheers which his
+play or popularity deserved, and especially did the new member's house
+distinguish themselves in the shouting.
+
+Thus Bourne had six caps at his disposal, and since "Socker" had been
+introduced, the last cap was always given so that when the school played
+the last match--the Carthusians--the eleven would be complete.
+
+Bourne saw at once the cloud which was rising on the horizon when, at the
+first committee meeting to choose the eleven against "The Cognoscenti"
+Mivart said, "Well, Bourne, we've got your partner for to-morrow ready
+made. I think we may put that new chap Acton down right off."
+
+"Rather," said Vercoe. "He can't be left out."
+
+"Best back we've seen for an age-barring Phil, of course," said Baines.
+
+"And the others we'll have to fight over, as usual. My choice is Hodgson
+for centre."
+
+"Too lazy, Roberts. Mine is Chalmers."
+
+"Rot! He's a winger."
+
+And so the selection of an eleven against the Cognoscenti went on in the
+usual old-fashioned style.
+
+Bourne dropped into my study afterwards and said, gloomily; "On the whole,
+Carr, had I not better tell the fellows that they may elect Acton for our
+school fixtures, but he cannot have his cap? That will take the bull by
+the horns from the beginning."
+
+"By no means. The other fellows have nothing whatever to do with giving
+caps away; that is your business entirely. Besides, who knows? Acton may
+not care to play when he knows he cannot get his cap."
+
+"I'd be agreeably surprised if he didn't. But that won't be his little
+game. Take my word for it, he'll turn out on every blessed occasion, play
+like a master of the game, and give us no end of trouble."
+
+"Perhaps he may. Anyhow, something may turn up between now and the last
+match--we'll hope so, anyhow; and until the last cap is given away the
+fellows generally won't spot your little game."
+
+"'Tis only putting off the evil day, Carr," said Phil, discontentedly.
+
+"A good day to put off."
+
+Thus, when Hodgson was given the first cap, there was the general comment
+that he was pretty sure to annex a cap sooner or later, and might as well
+have it soon. Acton's turn--so said the school would come later, though
+Biffen's house sneered. "Of course, Hodgson is in the Sixth. What else but
+a Sixth Form fellow is wanted in a footer eleven?"
+
+Sharpe's house secured the next two caps, and Biffen's groaned aloud.
+"Whatever is old Phil about? One might think he was blind in his right eye
+and straddled in his left. We'll send him a pair of gig lamps, and then
+perhaps he may discover Acton--Acton, of Biffen's."
+
+The weeks went by, and after a spirited display by Chalmers against the
+Emeriti, he was given his cap, and for the first time since Biffen's was a
+house they had a man in the eleven. But they gasped as Chalmers came out
+of the pavilion with his blue and silver cap on his curls. "That ass
+Bourne found the house at last, and then he goes and carefully spots the
+wrong man. Whatever _is_ the matter with him? To pick Chalmers before
+Acton! Rot!"
+
+Over tea that night Biffen's bubbled and choked, and the other houses
+began to take a lively interest in the next distribution, for this
+constant passing of Acton was becoming exciting. But still--and I was glad
+to see it--the school had faith in Phil; they counted on justice being
+done, as it were, in the last laps. No one mentioned a word to him about
+the intense curiosity and even anxiety that his odd bestowal of caps had
+excited amongst them, for Phil has that way with him that can shut up a
+fellow quicker than you can snap a knife if that fellow is travelling out
+of bounds.
+
+However, when Place, of Merishall's, came out of the pavilion a full-blown
+member of the school eleven there was a scene. The whole body of fellows
+now thought that the comedy was pretty nearly becoming a tragedy, and they
+showed their feelings unmistakably. Place was cheered by Merishall's, but
+not overwhelmingly, and from the other houses there was an ominous
+silence. Place, as he trotted out, looked rather puzzled, and a bit
+undecided how to take his odd reception, and glanced rather helplessly
+round at the sea of faces all turned anxiously towards him. There would be
+pretty nearly seven hundred fellows round the pavilion, for there was no
+end of excitement.
+
+"Keep up your pecker, Place! You're all right, anyhow!" shouted some one.
+
+The other members came out one by one, and were cheered to the echo, and
+at last Phil came out with Hodgson. He was rather pale, but had his back
+very straight. There was a dead silence, and, for the first time since he
+had been captain, Phil walked down the steps without a friendly cheer. I
+think even now the old school behaved itself very well--the fellows were
+not behind the scenes, and didn't see more than was before their eyes, but
+there was not a single word thrown out at Phil. Acton came out with
+Worcester, and the pity was that he didn't deserve the cheers he got.
+
+[Illustration: PHIL WALKED DOWN THE STEPS WITHOUT A FRIENDLY CHEER.]
+
+The week before the Carthusian match there was but one solitary player to
+be promoted. The position was back, and every fellow in the place knew
+that, bar Bourne himself, there wasn't another man that could hold a
+candle to Acton there. The committee doggedly, and with meaning, elected
+the only player there was to elect, and Acton signified that he was
+willing to play. Bourne, as usual, was there, and no one felt more than he
+the air of distrust and constraint which hung over the meeting. When Acton
+was unanimously elected for back Phil stolidly wrote out the list of the
+team and had it pinned up on the notice-board. He had carefully drawn the
+line in red ink above the last name--Acton's--which showed that the
+pride of Biffen's was not in the eleven yet.
+
+Probably Acton on the next day played as well as even he had ever played
+in his life, for he was almost impassable, and the crowd of fellows
+cheered him till they were hoarse. The minute the whistle blew, like one
+man the whole school swarmed round the pavilion. The question each asked
+himself and his chum was, "Would Acton get the last cap?" And the answer
+was, "Why, of course! Who else should have it?"
+
+That afternoon to most of the fellows the eleven seemed an age getting
+into their sweaters and coats. When Acton appeared first, and it was seen
+that he was wearing the pink cap of Biffen's on his head there was more
+than astonishment, there was consternation. Whatever did it mean? Acton
+smiled good-naturedly at the school as they cheered him to the echo, and
+hurried unconcernedly along. The others of the eleven came out dejectedly,
+and filed up the hill in gloomy little groups. The whole school waited for
+Phil, and when he came out, pale and worried, they received him in icy
+silence. As he was coming down the steps one of Biffen's fags shouted
+shrilly, "Three cheers for Acton!"
+
+Phil stalked through the shouting school, and as I joined him and we
+walked up together, he said, through his clenched teeth--
+
+"I wish, old man, I had never seen that brute."
+
+That evening Bourne wrote to Worcester offering him the remaining cap.
+
+Worcester flew across to Acton's room, and said, "Bourne has offered me
+the place--the last cap. He must be stark, staring mad!"
+
+"Take it," said Acton, coolly.
+
+"No fear," said Worcester. "We have a stupid kind of prejudice here for
+having the best eleven we can get, and it isn't the best if you're out of
+it. Bourne has always been a most impartial fellow up to this date, so
+this little occurrence has thrown us off the rails. Before I go to
+protest, though, have you any idea what is the matter?"
+
+"He does not consider me fit for the eleven," said Acton with a light
+laugh, but also with perfect truth.
+
+"Rot!" said Dick, hurrying away.
+
+He hunted up the other nine fellows, and said bluntly his business.
+
+"I vote we all protest to Bourne. A round robin should meet the case."
+
+"Good," said Mivart. "Draw one up, Dicky dear."
+
+Dick in time produced the following:--
+
+"We, the undersigned, think that the St. Amory eleven is incomplete
+without John Acton, of Biffen's house, and, consequently, that he ought to
+have the last cap; and we would beg the captain to offer it him unless
+there be very good reasons for not doing so. We would suggest that if John
+Acton isn't to have the cap he be told the reason. The undersigned do not
+wish in the smallest degree to prejudice the right of the captain to
+select members for the eleven, but think that in the present case the
+withholding of a cap from John Acton inexplicable."
+
+"You're a ready scribe, Dick," said Chalmers. "We may all sign that, eh?"
+
+"Yes," said Worcester. "I first, because I am undeservedly offered the
+cap, and the rest of you in order of membership."
+
+No one saw any objection to signing Dick's memorandum, and forthwith, with
+all legal formality, the round robin was signed by the ten, and sent to
+Phil by Dick's fag with orders to wait for an answer.
+
+It came within five minutes.
+
+
+     "DEAR WORCESTER,
+       I have no intention of offering John Acton a place in the St.
+     Amory's football eleven. There are good reasons for not doing
+     so, and I have already told Acton the reasons. Please let me
+     know whether you accept the vacant place I had the pleasure of
+     offering you.
+                       Yours sincerely,
+                             PHILIP BOURNE."
+
+This was a thunderbolt among the fellows. Then Acton knew!
+
+Worcester posted back to Acton, lost in amazement.
+
+"Look at this, Acton!"
+
+Acton carefully read Bourne's letter, and Dick, who was watching him
+anxiously, saw him bite his lips with rage; for Phil's icy contempt stood
+out in every word of the letter.
+
+"He says you know why you are not in the eleven."
+
+Acton knew that he would have to explain something, or else Bourne would
+win the day yet. So he said--
+
+"That is true. He told me so at the beginning of the season, but, of
+course, I never bargained for his keeping his word; and when you hear the
+reason he gave me--if this is his reason--you'll gasp."
+
+"Well," said Dick, "although I've no right to ask you, I'd like to hear
+the plain, unvarnished tale, for, speaking out, Phil Bourne has always
+passed for a decent, level fellow. This business, somehow, doesn't seem
+his form at all, and it is only fair to him to say it."
+
+"Did you see the match we had with Shannon's scratch team when the term
+began?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"Did you notice anything about my play?"
+
+"You opened our eyes a bit, I remember."
+
+"Did I play roughly?"
+
+"No. Not quite that! You were not gentle; but you aren't that as a rule,
+though your game is fair enough."
+
+"Not for Bourne. He doesn't like my game. I'm too rough. It's bad form,
+_pace_ Bourne, therefore I'm barred my place in the eleven."
+
+"Is that the explanation?"
+
+"Yes. Honour bright! Except"--Acton paused diplomatically for a
+moment--"except, I don't think he likes me."
+
+"Then Phil is a fool, and he'll find out pretty speedily that we can't
+stand rot of this quality. I, of course, can't take the cap."
+
+"My dear fellow, why in the world not? If you don't, some other house will
+get it. Biffen's deserves two fellows in the eleven this year."
+
+"They do, by Jove!"
+
+"Then let us have the satisfaction of keeping out another Corker fellow."
+
+Dick told the other fellows plainly and without any gilding, his
+conversation with Acton, and they pressed him to go and see Phil
+personally; so Dick marched heavily to Bourne's quarters.
+
+"Sorry, Worcester, but I cannot explain anything. Not even to you. But I
+do hope you'll come into the eleven."
+
+Dick said shortly, "I think I shall, for Biffen's deserves the other cap,
+though the right fellow isn't getting it. By the way, Bourne, you'll not
+be very sweet to the school generally after this. They--the fellows--to a
+man, are no end cut up over Acton's treatment."
+
+"I supposed they would be. I knew it would be so."
+
+"Look here, Phil. You always did the square thing. Let us have the reason
+for this," said Dick, earnestly.
+
+"Sorry, Worcester, I can't."
+
+"Good night, then."
+
+"Good night."
+
+The rage and consternation of the Biffenites when they found that Bourne
+was immovable in his decision can be imagined. Some were inclined to take
+the matter up to Corker's throne, but they were a miserable minority.
+
+"Let Corker have a finger in our own private affairs!" said Dick, with
+intense disgust. "What next, gentlemen? We won't be able to blow our own
+noses without his permission. Keep the masters out of this, whatever we
+do. Can't we see the thing through ourselves? I vote we try, anyhow."
+
+Some were inclined to blame Dick for accepting the cap; but pretty
+generally it was agreed that, if Acton was not to have it, Dick was the
+next best man, but at what a distance! The honour of having two men in the
+eleven was no _solatium_ for the wounded pride of Biffen's, when they
+considered their great injury. The reason, though, was, naturally, what
+puzzled them--and, for the matter of that, the whole school. Did Bourne
+expect his team to play footer as though it were a game of croquet? Were
+drawing-room manners to be introduced on to the Acres' clay? Were the
+famous eleven of St. Amory's to amble about, like a swarm of
+bread-and-butter misses? One wit suggested wadded coats and respirators.
+Acton rough, indeed! Phil Bourne must be an embodiment of his grandmother,
+then! Most of the fags in Biffen's house sent Phil elaborate instructions
+for "a nice drawing-room game to take the place of 'Socker'
+football--nasty, rough 'Socker' footer--for one-and-six, and guaranteed
+to do no injury to the most delicate constitution. A child can play it!"
+These letters were anonymous, of course; but Biffen's house-paper was
+freely used. "Anyhow," said Phil, with a gentle smile to me, "the spelling
+is obviously Biffen's."
+
+Acton went on his own way, serenely indifferent to his house, which would
+have made a god of him on the smallest provocation. He cheerfully ignored
+Bourne, and he had the art of never seeing Phil when they met, in school
+or out, though, of course, Phil minded this not at all. When the
+Carthusians were played, Acton spent the afternoon reading with Raven,
+whose exam, was now very near; and, whilst the two were grinding out all
+the absurd details of Horace and his patron, "and the poet's little farm,
+and the other rot which gains Perry Exhibitions," the shouts and cheers
+of the school down at the Acres came floating up the hill to their room.
+
+The school lost their match with the Carthusians--the match which a good
+St. Amorian would rather win than any two others--and it was plain that
+Dick, though a useful fellow, could not bottle up the forwards in the
+Actonian style. This defeat was the last straw to break the back of the
+school's patience.
+
+It was customary, after the Carthusian match, for the footer captain to
+give his eleven a formal tea, Phil arranged the usual preliminaries, sick
+at heart, and wearily certain as to the result. Three put in an
+appearance--Vercoe, Baines, and Roberts--and in place of the burly forms
+of the rest of the St. Amory's eleven, the sylph-like figures of their
+fags flitted to Phil's hall of entertainment with curt little notes.
+Worcester and the rest "regretted they were unable to avail themselves of
+the captain's invitation."
+
+The tea was not a success.
+
+The school followed the plain lead of the eleven, and as Phil hurried
+along to chapel the next day no one hooked in with him, as had been done
+"the day before yesterday!" He was left severely alone.
+
+In plain words, St Amory's School consigned Phil Bourne to Coventry.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THANKS TO ACTON
+
+
+After the Carthusian match there was but one topic, or to be strictly
+accurate, perhaps, two topics of interest in the school--who would be
+cock-house at footer and who would get the Perry Exhibition.
+
+The rest of the houses knew that Biffen's house was not now the
+unconsidered article it was once; that it wasn't the door-mat upon which
+any one might wipe his feet before proceeding into the inner circles of
+the housers' competition, and there was more than a little curiosity to
+see how far the "resurrected" house would mount.
+
+But not a single soul dreamt that it would reach the final. The whole
+school gasped for a fortnight on end as Biffen's annihilated Dover's,
+Hargen's, Sharpe's, and Merishall's _seriatim_, and at last faced
+Corker's house in the final. This was a resurrected house with a
+vengeance! Corker's had had a bye in the first round and had been drawn
+against rather rickety houses since, but they were generally fancied to
+pull off the final as usual, for Bourne was captain, and they had Hodgson
+and Roberts of the eleven as well. The wonderful progress of Biffen's had
+thrown an awful lot of excitement into the game.
+
+The match was fixed for the last Saturday in the term, and the result of
+the Perry Exhibition was to be announced on the evening of the same day,
+so the last Saturday was going to be the memorable day of the Michaelmas
+stretch.
+
+If you want a full account of the match you had better write to the editor
+of _The Amorian_. He will send you the magazine with a page or so of
+description and account, but all I'm going to say is that Bourne and Acton
+played as they had never played before--I think I've said that before
+about Acton, but he really was superlative in the housers' final--and that
+five minutes from time the score was "one all." Then Acton showed the
+school a stroke of genius. He brought Raven out from centre-forward, where
+he was quite unable to cope with Bourne, whispered him to go "back" with
+Worcester, and before any one could realize what was happening he was
+playing forward himself. He' was a "lambent flame along the ground" if you
+like. In a second Biffen's were swarming round Roberts in goal, Acton
+passed out to Chalmers, who was ready for the pass, and in a twinkling the
+ball was in the net. From the row you might have imagined the school had
+gone mad.
+
+[Illustration: ACTON JUST REACHED IT WITH HIS HEAD.]
+
+The ball was kicked off again. Almost immediately Acton secured near the
+centre. He dribbled through the ruck of his opponents until he saw Bourne
+upon him. With a smile of triumph upon his lips he gently rolled the
+leather to Chalmers, who was hungrily waiting for the pass out on the
+touch-line. Chalmers waltzed beautifully for the short run almost to the
+corner flag. He steadied himself for one instant after his run, and then
+lifted the ball magnificently into the goal mouth. As the leather was
+skimming past, Acton just reached it with his head and deflected it high
+and dry out of Roberts' reach into the net. It was the supreme effort
+of his splendid game.
+
+Biffen's had won by three goals to one!
+
+They carried Acton off the field in ecstasy, and nearly scared Dame Biffen
+out of her wits by the "whisper" of "cock-house." Well, it certainly was
+unusual.
+
+After tea the whole of St. Amory's crowded into the Speech Room to hear
+the result of the Perry Exhibition. There would not be a fellow away, I
+should fancy, bar the cripples in the hospital, for there was no end of
+excitement. Was this to be another Biffen's triumph? Was Raven of the
+Fifth to beat Hodgson, the chosen of the Sixth, for the Perry? It was not
+to be expected that he would, but when the whisper circled round that
+Acton had '"coached" him in classics it was agreed that perhaps there
+would be another feather in Acton's cap.
+
+The masters were there on the platform in serried ranks, the whole fifty
+of them, from Corker to Pfenning who "does" the music.
+
+Corker, as usual, went straight to the mark, whilst the entire mass of
+fellows kept a death-like silence. "The result of the examination for the
+Perry Exhibition is as follows:--
+
+    1st. Arthur Raven, 672 marks.
+    2nd. Theodore Hodgson, 591 marks.
+    3rd. Augustus Vernon Robert Todd, 114 marks."
+
+Then out broke the usual uproar, "shivering the silence," as some one
+says, "into clamour." We all cheered for Raven, who scored a popular and
+unexpected victory, for why should a Fifth Form fellow beat one of the
+Sixth? Biffen's crowd kept up the cheering until Corker rose again.
+
+"I can heartily congratulate Raven on his success, for his classical
+knowledge was distinctly good. Hodgson I can also congratulate, for his
+papers too were good. As for Augustus Vernon Robert Todd"--we all yelled
+with laughter as Dr. Moore scrambled in hot haste through Todd's awful
+list of names, but were again quiet when he dropped his eye-glasses from
+his eagle's beak, a sure sign he was going to "savage" somebody--"as for
+_his_ performance in this _examination_, I can only regard it as
+a very bad practical joke, or as his _ballon d'essai_ for some
+kindergarten scholarship."
+
+Raven got up from his seat near the door. He was pale to the lips, but his
+voice was clear and unhesitating. "If you please, sir, may I say a word?"
+
+"Eh, what?" said Corker. "Say a word? Oh, certainly."
+
+"I am very glad indeed to hear that I have won the Perry Exhibition. I
+know in my own mind that I could never have beaten my friend Hodgson if I
+had not had Acton's help. I owe the winning of the Exhibition entirely to
+him, for he has read the whole of the classics with me and helped me in
+every way in his power. I cannot thank him enough for all he has done, but
+at least I owe him this open acknowledgment."
+
+Corker looked no end pleased, and turned round and beamed on Biffen, whose
+good-natured easy face shone with pleasure and delight.
+
+"Biffen," said good old Corker, audibly, "your house is fortunate in
+having Acton, and St. Amory such a good amateur coach in classics.
+Cock-house, too, bless me!"
+
+And can you wonder that Biffen's, frenzied with delight, carried Raven and
+Acton shoulder high through the gas-lit streets?
+
+Whilst the Biffenites were thus shouting their way home, one unhappy youth
+hurried to his room feeling as though the moon had fallen out of heaven
+and crushed him--Todd. After that night when he had made the bet with
+Cotton, he had neither worked for the Perry nor yet left it alone, but
+loafed about with Cotton as usual, and piffled with the work for the
+Exhibition. As a last-lap spurt, he had, in the last week or so,
+desperately stuffed himself with cunning tips leading twistingly to
+nowhere. Never had any one faced a serious examination with such a rag-bag
+of tips as Todd, and the examination had found him out with a vengeance.
+As he slunk along to his quarters, Corker's words were buzzing in his ears
+unendingly. "As for Augustus Vernon Robert Todd"--"_ballon
+d'essai_"--"Kindergarten!" Oh! it was a sickener, and how the fellows had
+laughed!
+
+As for his bet with Cotton about cock-house, why, he had, when he saw
+those goals put on at the last moment, felt a cold shiver run down his
+back. He had crawled off the Acres a sick and sorry and miserable wretch.
+Cotton had, being rather riled at his chum's temper for the last month,
+hinted, in unmistakable terms, that the debt was to be paid on return
+after holidays. Todd contemplated the ravishing prospect of the future
+with unmixed feelings. Between the upper and nether millstones of the lost
+Exhibition and the lost bet he had been crashed, annihilated!
+
+When he had shut the study door, in sheer despair of spirit, he laid his
+head on the table and--Well, did he blub? All I know is, the Rev. E.
+Taylor knocked at the door once, twice, thrice, and Todd heard him not.
+The house master came in and surveyed the bowed form of poor Gus with a
+good-natured smile, tempered with some scorn. He took the liberty of
+loudly poking Gus's decaying fire, whereat the young gentleman sprang up
+instanter.
+
+"I knocked, Todd, but I suppose you were thinking too deeply to hear me."
+
+"Sorry, sir," said Gus, hurriedly getting the master a chair, "and, as a
+matter of fact, I was thinking."
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"What an awful ass I've been, sir!" "I don't know quite about the ass, but
+you've certainly not been an epitome of all that's wise this term. It was
+on that very subject that I came here to have a word with you before we go
+for the holidays."
+
+Gus looked blankly into the grate.
+
+"This exhibition of yours, Todd, in the examination is just the answer you
+might expect to the problem you've set yourself. 'How can I get something
+of value by doing nothing for it?' I must say... etc." Taylor spoke very
+much to the point to Todd for about half an hour, taking the ribs out of
+Gus's conceit one by one, until he felt very much like a damp, damaged
+gamp, and about as helpless. One by one he took him through the catalogue
+of the aimless, stupid, footling performances in the term, and Gus blankly
+wondered how the dickens Taylor knew quite so much of his doings, He felt
+that the house master was not a bad imitation of Corker on a flaying
+expedition. I must say that Taylor's performance was a considerable trifle
+above the average "beak's wigging," but the sting of his discourse was in
+the tail. "Now, Todd, would you like me to ask Dr. Moore to transfer you
+to some other house, where your very intimate friends will not absorb so
+much of your time?"
+
+Todd blushed purple at this very broad hint.
+
+"I'd rather stay where I am; I am not quite an incapable, sir."
+
+"No; I don't think you are--not quite. Dr. Moore, however, is somewhat out
+of patience with you, and proposes drastic measures."
+
+"Home?" inquired Todd, with gloomy conviction.
+
+"Yes," said the house master. "Dr. Moore has written your father. But you
+are coming back next term, when you will have the chance of showing that
+that awful performance in the Exhibition is not your true form. I hope
+you'll take it."
+
+Todd said bitterly, "I will, sir."
+
+"I am glad of that," said Taylor, "and I believe you will. Good night,
+Todd."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Todd packed up his portmanteaux that night as gloomily and as savagely as
+though his shirts were his deadly enemies. But there was a square,
+determined thrust-out of his weak chin which boded ill for Jim Cotton's
+classics and mathematics in the future.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+BIFFEN'S CONCERT
+
+
+It was the inalienable right of the juniors of the cock-house to give a
+concert the last night of the term, and to have free and undisputed
+possession of the concert-room. Corker made it a rule that the captain of
+the school should be there to see there were no riots, which, as the fags
+were off home on the morrow, was more than possible. So when I got a
+polite note from Grim about half an hour after the results of the Perry
+Exhibition had been announced, telling me that Corker had given the
+customary consent, I strolled about looking up a cohort of monitors to
+help me in maintaining the "sacred cause of order and decency." I knew of
+old those junior concerts. "Pandemonium" was nearer the word.
+
+Biffen's juniors, red-hot from their exertions and hoarse from their
+shouting in the speech-room, held a meeting in their own private quarters
+to deliberate as to their concert.
+
+"I vote Father Grim to the chair," said Wilson.
+
+"Thanks, my son," said Grim, with alacrity "Somebody second that, and
+let's get to business."
+
+Somebody obligingly seconded, and Grim enthroned himself with dignity in
+the chair, and said cheerfully, "Carried _nem. con._ That's the way
+to commence biz. Now, you fellows, I thank you for this unexpected honour,
+which has quite taken me by surprise. I shall always--"
+
+"Shut up, Grim," said Brown. "You know jolly well you asked Wilson to
+propose you."
+
+"All right, Brown; I'll talk with you afterwards. Sorry your Roman nose is
+out of joint; but nobody proposed you, you know, so shut up. Gentlemen--"
+
+"Hear, hear!"
+
+"Biffen's are cock-house at last" (deafening cheers) "and we must make our
+concert a stunner. It must go with a bang from start to finish. It must
+lick every other fag's concert that ever was, and 'be the bright harbinger
+of--' What is the rest of the quote, Wilson?"
+
+"'Of future joys,' you ass."
+
+"'Of future joys,' you asses."
+
+"I'll punch your head, Grim; you said you remembered it."
+
+"All serene, old man, never mind the cackle."
+
+"What about our concert?" asked Brown.
+
+"It's going to be great. Does any one happen to have a programme of that
+awful performance of Corker's house last year?"
+
+"Rather!" said half a dozen of Biffen's ornaments. "Did you think we'd
+burn a curiosity like that?"
+
+"Cut out and get yours, Rogers, my pet."
+
+"My pet" bolted and came back with the year-old programme of the Corker's
+fags.
+
+"Pass the abomination this way, Rogers. Gentlemen," said Grim, with
+intense scorn, "those unspeakable Corker asses started off with a
+prologue."
+
+"We must go one better--eh, you fellows?" said Rogers.
+
+"Rather!" they all shrieked.
+
+"I vote," said young Cherry, "that we lead off with an epilogue. That will
+leave 'em standing."
+
+"Hear, hear!" said Fruity.
+
+"Who'll second that?" said Grim.
+
+"I will," said Rogers, cheerfully.
+
+"Then do it, you ass," said the chairman.
+
+"I second," said Rogers, hurriedly, "and you needn't be so beastly strict,
+Grim."
+
+"Gentlemen, the proposal before the meeting is that we lead off with an
+epilogue. Item number one on the programme to be 'An Epilogue.' Those in
+favour signify. Carried unanimously."
+
+"I say, Grim, what is an epilogue, anyhow?" said a voice.
+
+"Oh, I say," said the chairman, "pass that young ignoramus this way. Lamb,
+do you mean to say you don't know what an epilogue is?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"This is sickening," said Grim, with disgust. "A fellow in Biffen's not
+know what an epilogue is! Tell him, Fruity," he added, with pathetic
+vexation.
+
+"He asked you," said Cherry, hurriedly.
+
+"I'm the chairman," said Grim, in a wax, but with great relief. "Explain
+away, Fruity!"
+
+"Oh, every first-class concert starts with one," he said vaguely.
+
+"See now, Lamb?"
+
+Lamb professed himself satisfied, but he did not appear absolutely blinded
+by the light either.
+
+"Anyhow," said Wilson, "Fruity will see to that. I propose he does."
+
+"I second it," said Lamb, viciously, whereupon Cherry kicked the seconder
+on the shins, for he did not exactly thirst for that honour. "I'm an
+ass," he said to himself; "but, anyhow, I'll look up what the blessed word
+does mean, and try to do it."
+
+"I see," said Grim, "they've got a poem on 'Cock House' for number two.
+That seems all right, eh?"
+
+"Oh yes; it's always done."
+
+"Well, we'll have one too, eh? Who's got to do the poetry, though?
+Somebody propose somebody"--thereupon every fag proposed his chiefest
+enemy, and the battles raged along the line. "And you call yourselves
+gentlemen!" said Grim in disgust--he had been overlooked for the time
+being.
+
+"I propose Sharpe," said Wilson, dusting himself. "He does no end swell
+construes from 'Ovid.'"
+
+"I second that," said Rogers. "He has long hair. Poets always have. Milton
+had."
+
+"That bit is _side,_" said the chairman, judicially. "Those who are
+in favour of Sharpe doing the poetry hold--Carried, _nem. con._"
+
+"_Nem. con_. is side too, Grim," said Rogers.
+
+"Shut up, you mule! Sharpe, you'll have to do the poem."
+
+"I say, you fellows, it will be horse work," said Sharpe, disconsolately.
+"There isn't a rhyme to Biffen's."
+
+"Oh! isn't there? What about 'spiffing'?"
+
+Sharpe choked.
+
+"Griffin."
+
+"Tiffin."
+
+Lamb squeaked out "stiff 'un," and some one gently led him out--even
+Biffen's fags caved in at that.
+
+"Sharpe, you're booked for number two, old man. Gentlemen, I direct your
+attention to number three--Corker's did Indian clubs and the gold-fish
+dodge."
+
+"Oh, well," said Wilson, "we're not going to copy Corker's, anyhow. Let's
+do dumb-bells and something else."
+
+"I propose that Wilson does the something else," said Cherry,
+good-naturedly.
+
+Wilson said he was ready to do something to Cherry any time that was
+convenient. Rogers suggested that they ask the niggers to do something on
+the bars, and Sharpe seconded it, so the dervishes were written to and
+promised a scragging if they didn't turn themselves inside out for the
+glory of Biffen's concert.
+
+"I say, you fellows," said Grim, "it's to be a concert, you know, and
+except for Fruity's epilogue there isn't any music down yet." Cherry
+groaned to think he'd been let in for a song.
+
+"What about Thurston?" asked half a dozen of the fags.
+
+"Right, oh! Now, 'Dicky Bird,' hop up to the front, and trot out your
+list."
+
+Thurston wasn't shy, and rather fancied his bleat, so he said, "Oh! I
+don't mind at all."
+
+"We thought you wouldn't," said the chairman, winking.
+
+"What do you say to 'Alice, where art thou'?"
+
+"We don't fancy your shouting five minutes for her at all. Next, please."
+
+"'Only to see her face again,' then?"
+
+"Whose?" said Sharpe, irreverently.
+
+"Why, the girl's the fellow is singing about," said Thurston, hotly.
+
+"Oh! you'll see her the day after to-morrow, Dicky Bird, so don't you fret
+about that now. Do you know 'My first cigar'?"
+
+"Do you mean the one that sent you to hospital, Grimmy?"
+
+"No I don't. None of your cheek. I'm chairman. I mean the one Corney Grain
+used to sing."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, you sing that and you'll make the fellows die with laughing. And
+mind you illustrate it with plenty of life-like pantomime, do you hear?"
+
+"Carried, _nem. con_.," shouted all the fags with enthusiasm.
+
+"Hear, hear, Grimmy!"
+
+"So that's settled for you, and if you get an encore, Dicky Bird, you can
+trot 'Alice' out if you like."
+
+"Which of the fellows have we to invite out of the eleven to help us?"
+
+"Acton," was the universal yell.
+
+"We'll see him, then, to-night."
+
+"Three cheers for Acton," said someone, and the roof echoed.
+
+"Well, we're getting on, and I say, you chaps, I have an idea."
+
+"Hear, hear!" said Cherry, acidly; "Grimmy _has_ an idea."
+
+"A grand idea, Fruity. Your epilogue isn't in it."
+
+"What is it, Grim?"
+
+"We'll have a boxing competition open to St. Amory's juniors only. Rogers
+should pull that off, eh?"
+
+"Rather," said they all. "One more feather in Biffen's cap.".
+
+"But, Grimmy," said Rogers, "I don't last, you know."
+
+"Ah!" said the chairman, brilliantly, "we'll only have one two-minutes'
+round each draw. It will go by points. You're safe as a house, my pet,
+really."
+
+"Who'll be judge about points? I propose you, Grim," said Rogers, with
+intent.
+
+"Thanks, old cock, but I really couldn't do the honourable if you were
+'rocky' in the last rounds. We'll ask Carr to see us through that part.
+You'll be all right, I tell you."
+
+"Who's to accompany on the P and O?"
+
+"Oh, Brown must see to that!"
+
+"I propose Brown key-thumper."
+
+"I second that."
+
+"Carried," said the chair, smartly.
+
+"I say," said Grim, "I propose myself stage manager. I'm the only fellow
+who knows a ha'porth about it."
+
+"A ha'porth is an awful lot; besides, a chairman can't propose himself,"
+said Cherry, revengefully.
+
+"I second the chairman's proposal," said Wilson, backing up his chum.
+
+"Carried, _nem. con_."
+
+"No, I'm hanged if it was!" said Cherry. "You're a fraud, Grimmy."
+
+"All right now, you chaps, the meeting is over. Wilson and I will go up to
+Acton, and see what he'll do for us, and then we'll rough out a swagger
+programme."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE END OF TERM
+
+
+The two worthies, Grim and Wilson, after seeing Acton, began to get out
+their programme. Here it is:--
+
+
+     BIFFEN'S JUNIORS' CONCERT.
+
+     _Cock House, December, 1898._
+
+     (1) Epilogue.
+          B.A.M. CHERRY.
+
+     (2) Poem on the subject of Cock House.
+          B. SHARPE.
+
+     (3) Bar Act.
+
+     (4) First Round Junior Boxing Competition.
+          PRINCE RUNJIT MEHTAH and RAM SINGH.
+
+     (5) SONG. "My First Cigar."
+          R.E. THURSTON.
+
+     (6) PIANOFORTE SOLO. "Oh! listen to the band."
+          O. BROWN.
+
+     (7) Second Round Boxing.
+
+     (8) SONG. "Jim."
+          J. ACTON, ESQ.
+
+     (9) Third and Concluding Rounds Boxing.
+
+     (10) SONG. "Well, suppose you did?"
+          R.E. THURSTON.
+
+          GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.
+
+     ACCOMPANIST           O.E. BROWN.
+     _Trinity College (by Examination)._
+
+     STAGE MANAGER         W.E. GRIM.
+
+     N.B.--The Manager begs to state that there will be no Latin
+     or classical allusions throughout the evening. No waits. No
+     charge for programmes. No antediluvian jokes.
+
+
+This was printed on paper blushing pink--Biffen's colours--and Grim and
+Wilson, when they got the advance proof last thing on Saturday night,
+almost embraced in their jubilation. There was such a swagger look about
+the "N.B."
+
+Meanwhile B.A.M. Cherry had consulted his dictionary, and therein found
+that an "epilogue" was defined as "a concluding speech in an oration or
+play." He broke into a cold sweat of horror. That was an epilogue, then!
+Where could he find one? What would be the good of one if he did find it?
+And supposing he had one and could recite it, it was at the wrong end of
+the programme--the programme which had already been printed in such hot
+haste? It was too late to tell Grim, who would have instantly summoned all
+the strength of Biffen's to scrag him. The wretched Cherry shuddered at
+his awful plight.
+
+Nothing could he do or dare he do. In desperation he determined to fall
+ill on the concert night. B.A.M. Cherry hadn't the heroic soul, and when
+Grim asked him cheerfully how the epilogue was going on, he said
+"spiffing," in the tone of a martyr at the stake.
+
+On the Monday Grim scuttled about all day--now on the stage, listening to
+Thurston going over his songs with Brown, now getting entries for his
+boxing competition, now encouraging Sharpe, who was in the throes of
+composition, and now criticizing the Dervishes with much force. Acton put
+in an appearance in the concert-room, and gave Brown the accompaniment to
+"Jim;" and, after hearing him play it through, went and read his novel the
+rest of his spare time.
+
+At 7.30 the juniors of St. Amory's began to stroll in, Biffen's lot
+collaring the front seats as per custom. The programmes were distributed
+to each one as he came in, and created no end of sensation, and W.E. Grim
+was allowed to have come out very strong in the programme line. St.
+Amory's fags did not spot anything wrong about item one, but the older
+fellows chuckled a little and said "the manager was a funny ass." This
+opinion was instantly conveyed to Grim by one of his cronies, and made
+that young gentleman think himself no end of a sly dog.
+
+Punctually to the minute Grim rang his bell, and, darting into the
+dressing-room, said, "Now, Cherry, come along with your epilogue, They're
+all waiting. Where is that ass?"
+
+"Cherry has not turned up yet, Grim."
+
+"What?" he said in horror.
+
+"Not turned up yet!"
+
+"I'll go and fetch the beggar at once."
+
+Grim darted out of the room, tore along the street, and was hammering at
+Cherry's door within the minute.
+
+"Fruity, hurry up, they're all waiting."
+
+"I'm not well, Grim."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I'm not well--I'm in bed."
+
+"You miserable beast!" shouted Grim. "I'll massacre you. You'll make us
+the laughing stock of the whole school. Get up, man, Be a man."
+
+"I'm ill," moaned Cherry from within.
+
+"You miserable beast! You'll be dead to-morrow." He shook the door
+violently, but Cherry was not quite the utter fool Grim took him for, for
+he had locked the door. Grim stood outside on the corridor for some
+seconds, petrified with rage and disgust, and then flew like a madman back
+to the concert-room. He cannoned up against some one leisurely strolling
+up to the dressing-room, and was darting on again _sans_ apology. A
+hand gently closed upon his collar and pulled him back.
+
+"Hallo, young shaver! Little boys used to apologize when they--Why,
+it's Grim! What in the name----"
+
+Grim, almost blubbing with anger and shame, poured out his tale, and Acton
+listened with an amused smile. "Sheer funk, Grim. Well, go on, and tell
+'em their Cherry has rotted, but that I'll come and tell 'em a little tale
+instead."
+
+Grim would have embraced Acton if he'd been a little taller, but he
+gurgled, "Acton, you _are_ a brick," and darted on to the stage.
+
+He was received with deafening cheers, and shrieks of "No waits!"
+"Manager!" "Don't hurry, Grim!" "We'll send out for supper!" "We want
+Cherry!" "Go off," etc.
+
+When Grim could get a word in he panted, "Gentlemen, I am sorry to say
+B.A.M. Cherry is indisposed and cannot favour you with the epilogue."
+
+"Funked it!" roared all the delighted juniors.
+
+"He says he is unwell," said Grim, anger getting the better of him, "but
+he'll be a jolly sight worse in the morning."
+
+There was a hurricane of thunderous cheers at this sally, but Grim managed
+to shout above the laughing, "I have great pleasure in announcing that
+John Acton, Esq., will take Fruity's--I mean Cherry's--place and tell you
+a little tale; even Corker fags will understand it," added Grim,
+viciously.
+
+Acton came on and received his hearty welcome with easy good nature. He
+plunged right into his contribution: "A London cabby's account of his
+different fares"--from the double-superfine gilt-edged individual to the
+fat old dowager who _will_ have the parrot inside with her. Acton
+gave it perfectly. Grim, who had his ears glued to the exit door, vowed he
+could almost hear the swell drop his eyeglass.
+
+Sharpe stepped on to the stage amid the polite attentions of his natural
+enemies. "Be a man, Sharpe." "Don't cry." "You'll see mamma soon." "Speak
+up." "He did it all alone, remember." "No help." "Oh, dear no!"
+
+     "When on the bosom of the sleeping pool,
+     That's shaded o'er by trees in greenest dress,
+     Upon its breast of snow its gem of gold
+     The water lily swims--"
+
+The juniors howled with dismay at this commencement, and Corker juniors
+instantly began to keep time to Sharpe's delivery in the organ-grinder's
+fashion. But Sharpe toiled remorselessly on. He compared Biffen's house to
+a water lily growing in a muddy pond, and again as a Phoenix risen from
+the ashes; and he gave us, with circumstantial details, every round of the
+footer housers, their two eleven caps, and the Perry Exhibition, and
+darkly hinted at Acton's exclusion from the eleven.
+
+He wound up his awful farrago in one glorious burst of solemn fury--
+
+     "And even Fate girds on her sword, and her right arm she stiffens,
+     As thunders to the icy pole the glorious name of Biffen's."
+
+When Sharpe finally made his bow, according to the invariable custom,
+every junior except a Biffenite imitated with rare fidelity the mixed
+sensations of channel passengers after a stormy passage.
+
+Sharpe, cheered to the echo by the Biffenites on the front row, went
+proudly off.
+
+The Dervishes were received with enthusiasm, and went through their
+performance to the shouts of "Well wriggled, Java!" "Why don't you oil!"
+"Do it again--orang-outang!" They amiably smiled acknowledgments as they
+backed away.
+
+Then I myself stepped on to the stage, prepared to judge the two-minutes'
+rounds. Grim had whipped up sixteen fags, each willing to do battle for
+the honour of his house. The rounds proceeded to the accompaniment of
+ear-splitting encouragement, and I had the satisfaction of knowing that
+not a solitary one of the defeated heroes thought he had really been
+beaten on points.
+
+No mistake about it, Biffen's had a fag who could sing. Thurston's "My
+First Cigar" only lacked one thing--it should have lasted a little longer
+to suit the audience.
+
+  "She called it an Intimidad,
+    It had spots of a yellowish hue,
+  She said the best brands always had,
+    And I firmly believed it was true."
+
+A good number of the fellows knew "The Soldiers in the Park," and Brown
+hammered it out in a good old breezy style.
+
+As he was racing home, and the jolly chorus was crashing out from the
+piano, one fag started "Oh, listen to the band!"
+
+Instantly the whole school, juniors and seniors as well, joined in the
+chorus, keeping time with their feet.
+
+  "Oh, listen to the band!
+  Who doesn't love to hark
+    To the shout of 'Here they come'
+    And the banging of the drum--
+  Oh, listen to the soldiers in the park."
+
+When the dust had settled, every one acknowledged that Biffen's concert
+was going with a bang. I am not going to bore you with a longer account of
+Biffen's concert. Thurston sang "Alice, where art thou?" the fellows
+telling him between the verses that "She wasn't going to come," "Spoony
+songs barred," etc., and Rogers carried off the fags' boxing competition
+with a big rush in the final round, and Biffen's crew howled with delight.
+
+Finally the bell rang for Acton's song. Brown rattled through the
+preliminary bars, and the song commenced. The singer held himself slightly
+forward, in a rather stiff and awkward fashion, and his eyes were staring
+intently into vacancy. There was not the shadow of a shade of any
+expression in his face. A feeling of pity for Acton was the universal
+sensation when the first words fell from his lips. Acton had not the ghost
+of a singing voice, and the school shuddered at the awful exhibition.
+There was an icy silence, but Acton croaked remorselessly on. This is the
+song:--
+
+  "Jim and I as children played together,
+    Best of chums for many years were we;
+  I had no luck--was, alas! a Jonah;
+    Jim, my chum, was lucky as could be.
+      Oh, lucky Jim! How I envied him!
+
+  "Years rolled by, and death took Jim away, boys,
+    Left his widow, and she married me;
+  Now we're married oft I think of Jim, boys,
+    Sleeping in that churchyard by the sea.
+      Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy him!"
+
+As the words followed on there was a suggestion of oddity in that awful
+voice singing a comic song, and there were a few suppressed laughs at the
+idea. As the song progressed, the utter dreary weariness of the voice, and
+the rather funny words, compelled the fellows to laugh in uncontrollable
+bursts; but still Acton never turned a hair. When he arrived at the
+churchyard lines there was one universal howl of delight. Brown stopped
+dead at the end of the second last line, and Acton stopped dead too.
+Instantly all the fellows became as mute as fish. The singer straightened
+himself up, looked round the room with a mocking smile while one might
+count a dozen, and then winked to Brown, who recommenced softly on the
+piano. Then Acton _sang_ slowly and deliberately--sang with a voice
+as clear and as tunable as a silver bell--
+
+  "Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy him!"
+
+His croak was a pretence--he had hoaxed us all! Before we recovered from
+our stupefaction he had vanished. The school clamoured for his return,
+but though they cheered for three minutes on end Acton did not reappear,
+and Brown struck up "God save the Queen!" Biffen's concert was at an end!
+
+Grim held a five minutes' meeting among the Biffenites before bed.
+
+"There's never been a fellow like Acton in St. Amory's. He goes away at
+nine to-morrow. The Great Midland are going to stop their express to pick
+up St. Amory fellows, and Acton goes up to his place by that. I vote we
+all go in a body to the station and cheer him off. We keep it dark, of
+course." This _staccato_ oration was agreed to with acclamation, and
+Biffenites went to bed happy.
+
+On the morrow Acton strolled into the station and espied the Biffenites,
+who were scattered up and down the platform with careful carelessness.
+The train came in, and at once the juniors crowded _en masse_ round
+the carriage in which Acton had secured a corner seat, and stood talking
+to Grim, who was in fine feather.
+
+At that very moment Phil Bourne and young Jack Bourne bustled into the
+station. An idea struck Rogers, and he said to all his chums, "Here's
+Bourne, you fellows; let him know we see him."
+
+The fags were delighted, and when Bourne entered the carriage next
+Acton's there was a long-drawn-out hoot for his especial benefit.
+
+"Another," said Rogers, whereat more soulful groans.
+
+"The last," said Rogers, and Bourne took his seat to a chorus of hisses
+and tortured howls. He smiled a little and opened his paper, while the
+people in the carriage looked curiously at him.
+
+The guard's whistle went and Acton sprang in. "Good-bye."
+
+As the train moved, Grim said, "Three cheers for Acton!"
+
+"Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
+
+"A groan for Bourne!" Acton smiled good naturedly to his henchmen. As he
+glided past he said to himself softly, "And yet I have not quite hoed all
+my row out either, Bourne. Wait, my friend, wait!"
+
+[Illustration: AS THE TRAIN MOVED, GRIM SAID, "THREE CHEERS!"]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE YOUNG BROTHER
+
+
+When St. Amory's reassembled after the holidays Acton found himself
+firmly established in the good graces of the fellows, and, indeed, he was
+not far from being the most popular fellow in the place, but poor Phil
+was looked coldly upon by those who had been his chiefest friends, and,
+by those who knew little of him, he passed for a jealous bounder. Acton
+played up to his cards in beautiful style, and acted the forgiving
+innocent splendidly; but Phil, who was only a very honest fellow, did not
+play anything to speak of. Those who gave him the cold shoulder once
+never had a second chance of showing it him, for Phil was no end proud;
+but he had still one or two friends, who condoned his passing of Acton
+for the "footer" cap on the ground of "insufficient information" thereon.
+Roberts and Baines and Vercoe were not a bad trio to have for friends
+either. Acton was now in the Sixth, and a monitor.
+
+His main idea was to keep Bourne in the bad books of the school until
+such time as he could direct their ill-favour into channels favourable to
+himself and unfavourable for Phil. A lucky chance seemed to open to him
+an easy method of striking at Bourne, and Acton almost hugged himself
+with joy at his windfall.
+
+About a week after the holidays Acton had been skating on the Marsh, and
+as he was returning he came across Jack Bourne engaged in a desperate
+fight with a young yokel. There was a small crowd of loafers, who were
+delighted at this little turn up, and were loud in their advice to the
+fellow to give "the young swell a good hiding."
+
+This little crowd, as I said, caught Acton's eye, and when he perceived
+that one of the fighters was a St. Amory fellow, he hurried up to see
+what was the little game.
+
+Young Bourne was getting the worst of it. The yokel was a year or two
+older, was taller, and stones heavier. It was an unequal fight. Bourne
+was standing up to his man pluckily, and, thanks to the "agricultural"
+style of the clodhopper, was not taking nearly so much harm as he should
+have done. He was, however, pretty low down in the mouth, for there was
+not a friendly eye to encourage him, nor a friendly shout to back him up.
+On the contrary, the mob howled with delight as their man got "home," and
+encouraged him: "Gow it, Dick! Knock the stuffin' out of 'im!"
+
+Acton had not been noticed, but he thrust himself into the mob, and
+said, "Stand back, you little beggars, or I'll massacre the lot of you.
+Give the boy room, you filthy pigs!" The "pigs" scuttled back, and for
+the first time Bourne really had fair play.
+
+Acton took out his watch and assumed the direction of the fight.
+
+"Time!" he shouted out. "You fellow, that's your corner, and if you stir
+out of it before I give the word I'll thrash you within an inch of your
+life. This will be ours, Bourne." He strode in between the two, and
+pushed the yokel among his friends, whilst he dragged Bourne a little
+apart.
+
+"Thanks awfully, Acton. That beast knocked me off the path into the
+snow-heap when he saw I was one of the school. I struck him, but he's a
+big handful."
+
+"Don't talk, Bourne," said Acton, grimly. "It's only wasting breath. Keep
+cool, man, and you will pull it off yet."
+
+Thanks to Acton's encouragement, young Bourne worked along ever so much
+better, so that when time was called he had taken no damage practically,
+but had scored a little on his own account.
+
+"Sit down on my coat. You're doing famously. Whatever you do, don't let
+him swing you one in the face. You'll be snuffed out if you do. Keep him
+out at any cost, and try an upper cut after he swings. Waste no time
+after he's missed."
+
+But although young Bourne scored no end in the next few rounds by
+following Acton's advice, his good efforts seemed wasted. The lout's face
+was as hard as a butcher's block. Acton saw that Bourne was visibly
+tiring, and that it was an almost foregone conclusion that in the end he
+would be beaten. He could hardly stall off the fellow's attack.
+
+After the seventh round Acton saw that he must put all to the touch, or
+Bourne would lose. "Listen carefully, young 'un. You're jolly game, and
+that's a fact, but there's no good hammering on the fool's face--he can't
+feel. You must try another trick. It's the last in your box, too, Bourne,
+so make no mistake. St. Amory's for ever! When he swings, duck. Don't try
+to ward him off--he'll beat you down. Then, for all you're worth, drive
+home with your left on the jaw. On the jaw for all you're worth. You've
+seen the sergeant do it dozens of times in the gym. Keep cool, and look
+when you hit--on the very peak. Understand?"
+
+"Rather!" said Jack, coolly but wearily.
+
+"Time!"
+
+The yokel came on in all the pride of his beefy strength, for ha knew
+that he was going to finish the "swell" this round. He swung. Bourne
+ducked, and then, quick as lightning, the lad closed in, and, with the
+last ounce he had in him, drove his left on the jaw. He was true to a
+hair.
+
+"_Habet!_" shouted Acton. "Don't give him time, Jack. Send him down
+if you can."
+
+Bourne's "point" had the usual effect; the lout's head swam, he felt sick
+and sorry, and could not even ward off Jack's blows. He backed, Jack
+scoring like mad all the time, and when Acton finally called "time!" he
+dropped on to the ground blubbing. The fellow's eye was visibly swelling,
+his lips were cut, and his nose bled villainously.
+
+[Illustration: ACTON THREW HIM INTO THE SNOW-HEAP.]
+
+"The pig bleeds," said Acton, cheerfully. "You have him now, Bourne; he's
+too sick to have an ounce of fight left in him. Time!"
+
+The next round wasn't a round really; it was a procession, with Bourne,
+as fresh as paint from his success, following up the other blubbing with
+rage, pain, and sickness. Before Acton called, the fellow dropped to the
+ground and howled dismally.
+
+"Get your coat, Jack, and then come here. He's done. Stand back, you
+others."
+
+Jack came back.
+
+"Now, you pig, get up and apologize to this gentleman for having knocked
+him into the snow-heap. I suppose your pig's eyes couldn't see he was
+only half your size." Acton got hold of the fellow by the collar and
+jerked him to his feet. "Apologize."
+
+The fellow would not understand; he snivelled obstinately, and struggled
+aimlessly in Acton's grasp.
+
+"Apologize."
+
+"I wown't."
+
+"Good," said Acton, grimly. With his flat hand he gave the fellow a
+thundering cuff which sent him sprawling. Acton then caught him by the
+scruff of his neck and threw him headlong into the snow-heap.
+
+"Come along, Bourne," he said, with a smile. "You have fought a good
+fight this day, and no mistake. That fellow will have a fit the next and
+every time he sees the smallest St. Amory's fag's cap."
+
+"I say, Acton, you're an awful brick to back me up like that."
+
+"Don't mention it, Bourne. Come and have some tea with me, and I'll pour
+oil into your wounds, or at any rate, I'll paint 'em."
+
+So young Bourne had tea with Acton, and his host went out afterwards to
+Dann's the chemist's and brought back a camel's-hair brush and some
+lotion. Thanks to this, Jack's scars appeared as very honourable wounds
+indeed.
+
+From that day Jack thought Acton the finest fellow in St. Amory's.
+
+"He did not spread-eagle that fool," he said to himself, "but let me have
+the glory of pounding the ugly brute into jelly, and made me go in and
+win when I was ready to give in to the cad. Why did not Phil give him his
+cap? There's something rotten somewhere."
+
+As for Acton, as I said before, he regarded this little incident as a
+treasure trove upon which he could draw almost unlimitedly in his
+campaign against Bourne. "I'll strike at Bourne, senr., through his young
+brother. I'll train him up in the way he should go, and when our
+unspeakable prig of a Philip sees what a beautiful article young Jack
+finally emerges, he'll wish he'd left me alone. Jack, my boy, I'm sorry,
+but I'm going to make you a bad boy, just to give your elder brother
+something to think about. You're going to become a terrible monster of
+iniquity, just to shock your reverend brother."
+
+Acton took not the smallest interest in the usual Easter Term games.
+Footer was only played occasionally, but there was one blessing, the
+fellows need not play the usual Thursday Old Game. As for cross-country
+running, paper chases, _et hoc genus omne_, Acton refused to have
+anything to do with them. "That sort," he said to Dick Worcester, "isn't
+in the same street with footer."
+
+"Why not try and lift the Public School Heavy at Aldershot?" suggested
+Worcester.
+
+"There's Hodgson in for it, Dick."
+
+"A good man; but if you would only apply yourself seriously to the
+business I'd back you. You're a good weight, and got a longer reach than
+Hodgson."
+
+"There's Bourne, too."
+
+"Personally, I believe Phil is only pacing Hodgson to take him along
+quicker."
+
+"It's an awful fag, and I believe Eton have got the Heavy safe and sure
+this year. A cousin of mine there says that their pet, Jarvis, would walk
+right through the best man we've ever turned out."
+
+"Oh, that's their usual brag!"
+
+"Personally, I don't think so. They have got a young Bermondsey
+professor--who is up to all the latest dodges--to coach. Our sergeant is
+a bit old-fashioned--good, but old-fashioned. Does not do enough with his
+right."
+
+"I'm quite an amateur," said Dick. "Don't understand the finer shades of
+the arts. Should have thought the sergeant good enough."
+
+"_Dubito!_ Anyhow, Dick, I'll think it over; and if I think I can
+make a decent show I'll have a shot. When does it come off?"
+
+"At Aldershot? Oh!--last week in March."
+
+"That gives me nearly two months. One can turn round in two months; and
+if I'm satisfied as to my coaching I'll certainly try at Aldershot. But
+what has a fellow to do on the half-holidays now? No footer, and one
+might do enough practice after tea for the Heavy. I wish Kipling would
+write a book every week. He is the only fellow in England who can write."
+
+So Acton, on the half-holidays, prepared to read his novels by his
+fireside. Not that he was particularly fond of toasting himself, but
+because, for him, it was all he could do.
+
+But Corker came to his rescue. The old man, after having had his back to
+the wall for an age, consented to monitors being allowed to cycle by
+themselves, and even to be _chaperon_ to any fags who cared to run
+with them, and--important _proviso_--whom the monitors did not
+object to. Otherwise the old rule of no cycling _sans_ house-master
+was in force.
+
+Acton thereupon invested in a swell machine, and he and young Bourne, or
+Grim, or Wilson on the hired article, would cover no end of country
+between dinner and roll call.
+
+By-and-by Phil noticed that his brother was getting pretty thick with
+Acton.
+
+"Rather thick with Acton, Jack? I don't think he'll do you any good."
+
+"He has, anyhow, Phil."
+
+"How?"
+
+Jack explained.
+
+"I'm glad you licked the animal, young 'un; but, all the same, I wish
+some other fellow had seen you through."
+
+"I don't!" said Jack, hotly.
+
+"I wonder," said Phil, dryly, "what is the great attraction which a Sixth
+Form fellow sees in a fag? Above all, a fag of the name of Bourne?"
+
+"Fact is, I don't see it myself," said Jack, shortly. "Better ask him."
+
+"No, I don't think I shall. All the same, I would not dog Acton's
+footsteps quite so much."
+
+"He's a monitor."
+
+"Who'll make you useful. Take my word for it."
+
+"We'll see."
+
+"Oh! Certainly we shall."
+
+Jack was thoroughly unhinged by his brother's dry bantering tone, and
+said hotly--
+
+"I cannot understand, Phil, why he didn't get his cap. He deserved it."
+
+"There's no need for you to understand it, young 'un."
+
+"My opinion is----"
+
+"Not worth the breath you're going to waste."
+
+"It's considered a shame pretty generally."
+
+"I've heard so; but, still, that does not alter matters. However, I did
+not want to talk politics with you, Jack. Don't put your innocent little
+toes into any scrape--that is all I wanted to tell you. Here is half a
+crown for you to buy butterscotch, and while you're sucking it think over
+what I've said. What! Little boys given up toffee? Then I'd better say
+good night, Jack." Jack went out pretty sore.
+
+About a week or so after this, Acton and young Bourne sped down to the
+old Lodestone Farm, and as they pedalled in at the gate young Hill, the
+farmer's son, said to Acton--
+
+"The man's been here since twelve, sir."
+
+"That's all right," said Acton. "Has he got the stable ready?"
+
+"He's been putting it to rights the last hour."
+
+"I say, Bourne," said Acton, turning to Jack, "ever heard of the Alabama
+Coon?"
+
+"The fellow who won that fight in Holland? The prize-fighter?"
+
+"The very same."
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"Well, I've engaged him to give me a few lessons here. I'm going to try
+for the Heavy at Aldershot. Like to see the fun?"
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"Then come along."
+
+Together they went into the stable, and therein found "The Coon," a
+coal-black negro, busily shovelling sand upon the floor, smoking an
+enormous cigar the while.
+
+"Making ready the cockpit," said Acton to Jack, who was staring open-eyed
+at the worker. "Lusty looking animal, eh?"
+
+"My aunt!" said Jack.
+
+"Hallo, Coon, you're about ready!"
+
+"Yaas, sir," said the negro. "I'm almost through."
+
+"Brought the mittens with you, too?"
+
+"Yaas, sir, I have the feather beds."
+
+"Then when you've peeled we'll start."
+
+The Coon put down his spade and slipped behind a stall.
+
+"You see, young 'un, the sergeant at the gym is a good old hand, but he
+is an old hand, so to speak--hasn't got the polish. Seeing that at
+Aldershot they tie us down to a very few rounds, if St. Amory's have to
+make any show at all they must get all the points they can first round or
+so. That's why I've got the Coon down here. He is the most scientific
+boxer we have."
+
+"The figure will be pretty stiff, Acton, eh?"
+
+"No matter about that if I can beat Jarvis. By the way, Bourne, you need
+not say anything about this to any one. I have particular reasons for
+keeping this quiet."
+
+"All serene. I'm mum, of course."
+
+"Thanks. You watch the Coon, and you'll pick up no end of wrinkles."
+
+The Coon came out from behind the stall dressed in a vest, trousers, and
+thin boots; his black arms were bare, and he had exchanged his cigar for
+a straw, which he chewed vigorously. Acton changed his shoes and took off
+his coat, and the lesson began.
+
+Acton's opinion of the Coon's knowledge was, in Jack's mind, absolutely
+corroborated by the display. His marvellous parrying of Acton's
+attentions; his short step inwards, which invariably followed a mis-hit
+by Acton; his baits to lure his opponent to deliver himself a gift into
+his hands; his incredible ducking and lightning returns, held Bourne
+fascinated. Everything was done so easily, so lithely, so lightly, and so
+surely, that Jack gasped in admiration. Acton in the hands of the nigger
+was a lamb indeed.
+
+"This is an eye-opener," said Jack. "I'll try that left feint on Rogers,
+the cocky ass!"
+
+The negro stopped now and then to show Acton where and how to avail
+himself of opportunities; and Acton, who was in grim earnest, applied
+himself whole-heartedly to the business in hand, and, in consequence, as
+Jack afterwards told us, "you could almost hear old Acton travelling on
+the right road."
+
+After about half an hour of instruction, Acton said--
+
+"That is enough of jawing for the afternoon, Coon. Let us have three
+rounds to finish up with. Take the time, young 'un."
+
+Jack, with immense pride, took out his watch and prepared to act as
+timekeeper.
+
+"Better take it easily first two, sir, and put in all you know for the
+last. A little hurricane in the third round is my advice."
+
+Jack had an ecstatic ten minutes, the final round putting him in the
+seventh heaven of enjoyment.
+
+"All I could make out was Acton's white arms mixed with Alabama's black
+ones, and the sand flying in all directions. Stunning isn't the word for
+it!"
+
+As Acton and young Bourne pedalled leisurely home for roll call, Jack
+said--
+
+"I think Jarvis' chance of collaring the Heavy for his place is a trifle
+'rocky.'"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Crumbs! How Alabama does get home!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+TODD PAYS THE BILL
+
+
+Another youth had come back to St. Amory's with resolutions as fixed and
+steady, though more legitimate than Acton's. Augustus Vernon Robert Todd
+returned to school with pockets more scantily lined than ever from the
+parental source, with his mind constantly fixed on the conversation which
+he had had with his house-master on that awful concluding day last term,
+and his chin still thrust out valiantly. Gus's square chin meant an
+undeviating attention to serious study, and Gus, armed _cap-à-pie_,
+against all his old friends.
+
+For Todd had taken his precautions. His watch--a gold one, "jewelled in
+numberless holes," as its owner pathetically remarked--had been left with
+the family jeweller for three bright golden sovereigns, an eight-and-six
+brass turnip, which went jolly well, although its tick was a trifle
+vigorous under Gus's pillow, and an agreement. This document, drawn up by
+himself, Gus regarded as a very masterpiece of business-like acumen. Gus
+could have his gold watch back again within the year by paying three
+sovereigns, and buying the brass turnip for half a sovereign, the profit
+accruing on this latter transaction being, as Gus explained proudly, the
+jeweller's percentage on the loan. The family jeweller had informed Gus
+casually that he couldn't keep a wife and growing family on such
+percentages, but to oblige, etc.
+
+Todd received Mr. James Cotton blandly and politely, and Jim, in his
+heavy way, mistook this airiness for non-paying symptoms on Gus's part.
+
+"Had a good time, old cock, during the holidays?"
+
+"Beastly," said Gus.
+
+"Governor rusty?"
+
+"No end. Been making the will again, and leaving me out."
+
+"Perry _fiasco_, eh?"
+
+"Yes, and other things."
+
+"Well, I hope you can pay up all you owe me, old chap."
+
+"Oh yes!" said Gus. "I said I would keep my word, although you were so
+good as to have your doubts."
+
+"All right, glad you can manage it."
+
+"Here you are," said Gus, thrusting his hand into his pocket and bringing
+up his coins. "Three three for that rotten bet, and the other fifteen bob
+I owed you. It's all there."
+
+Cotton opened his eyes.
+
+"You said the governor was rusty, Gus?"
+
+"So he was, beastly; but I can pay you all the same."
+
+"Well," said Cotton, after a little awkward pause, "I don't want to clean
+you out quite, so pay half now and the rest next term. Would that suit
+you better, Gus?"
+
+"Thanks, I don't mind," said Gus, airily. "Here's half, then."
+
+Cotton left his friend's room considerably puzzled, but when he came next
+night with his books for his old jackal's attentions as before, he was
+more than puzzled, for Gus said--
+
+"Can give you half an hour, Jim."
+
+"We won't be able to screw up enough for Merishall in that time, old
+man."
+
+"Then you'll have to do the rest yourself, Jim. I'm not going to piffle
+about any more."
+
+"Oh, don't be an ass, Gus! I've heard that footle before," said Cotton,
+with his heavy selfishness.
+
+"Not quite, for this time I mean what I say."
+
+"Oh no, you don't!"
+
+"Oh yes, I do!"
+
+"You wouldn't leave a fellow in the lurch like this, after all I--"
+
+"I was left in the lurch last term, Jim, dear, and I'd rather you had a
+taste of it this go. Do you remember when old Corker was savaging me
+before all the school!"
+
+The ghost of a smile flitted over Cotton's lips as he said--
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"The entire school, from the meanest fag up to Carr, was laughing at me,
+and, by Jove! Jim, your laugh was the loudest and longest."
+
+"It was your tips I was thinking of, and Corker's frothing through your
+list of names," said Cotton, apologetically.
+
+"All right," said Todd, acidly. "If you had left me alone I wouldn't have
+wanted those tips, and as for my names, I did not christen myself. If you
+want half an hour to shake out your work roughly I'll do it, but I can't
+do more, Jim, honour bright."
+
+"I don't want _that_!" said Cotton, angrily, gathering up his
+books.
+
+"Am deucedly glad you don't. And here, Jim, is the other half of the
+money. Since I'm not obliging you in any way, why should you me?"
+
+"You're logical, Todd, at any rate," said Jim, with half a sneer.
+
+"Didn't know you could spot logic when you heard it, Cotton," said Gus,
+with an equal amount of acid, and yet good-naturedly too.
+
+"I suppose I clean you out?"
+
+"You do. I've got a shilling to look at when you've taken up that heap."
+
+"Is that your last word?"
+
+"It is, but there's no need to quarrel--we're as we were before I began
+to take your hire, Jim."
+
+"Not quite," said Cotton, who was hit by Gus's decision. "I'll leave you
+to your odd shilling and your forsaken tips."
+
+He stumped off to his own room, and called Todd pet names till bedtime.
+What made Cotton so angry was that, deep down in his own mind, he knew
+that Gus was about to do a sensible and a manly thing, and just because
+he himself was going to suffer by it he had not moral courage enough to
+speak out openly his better mind.
+
+But Gus, smiling at Cotton's bad temper, took out his books, drew up a
+scheme for study, bolted his door, and commenced to work. He slacked off
+when the bell went half an hour before lights out, and spent the time
+left him in boring a hole in his solitary shilling. He then slipped it on
+his watch-guard, prepared boldly to face a term of ten weeks without a
+stiver.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+RAFFLES OF ROTHERHITHE
+
+
+Twice a week, on half-holidays, Acton and Bourne ran over to the farm, to
+find the Coon waiting for them in the stable, smoking an enormous cigar
+as usual, and reading sporting papers on the corn-chest. Young Hill, the
+farmer's son, generally put in an appearance when the boxing was about
+over, and to Jack's utter disgust, plainly showed that he would rather
+that Jack was anywhere else than with Acton when the gloves had been laid
+aside. He seemed to have some business with Acton concerning which he
+evidently did not want Jack to hear a single syllable.
+
+Jack did not quite see at first that he was one too many after the boxing
+was over, and that Hill, at any rate, did not mean there should be a
+fourth to the deliberations of himself, Acton, and the Coon. Jack,
+however, soon tumbled that he was _de trop_, and the minute young
+Hill came in Jack would stalk solemnly and formally out of the stable and
+kick up his heels in the farmyard until such time as Acton should be
+ready for the run to school.
+
+Jack certainly did not like this cavalier treatment, but found it rather
+a bore pottering about the yard, "looking at the beastly ducks;" but
+Acton was so profusely apologetic when he did come out that Jack
+generally smoothed his ruffled plumes and pedalled home at peace with
+himself and all the world.
+
+"The fact is, Jack," said Acton, "young Hill has arranged for me to have
+the stable for our practice, for old Hill himself was rather against it,
+and as he has a prejudice against St. Amory fellows generally, but
+especially when they're of the Junior School--some of your tribe scuttled
+his punt for him on the moat, didn't you?--I thought you would not mind
+humouring the man's amiabilities. The Coon and he talk rot--sporting
+rot--and it would only bore you to listen to it."
+
+Jack said, "It does not matter in the least. I'd as soon look at the
+ducks as listen to Hill. It's a bit _infra dig._, though, that _he_
+should object."
+
+As a matter of fact, young Hill received letters for Acton which dealt
+with many things, the burden of most of them being "betting," and the
+other sweet things of the sporting shop. Acton was, as you will have
+seen, not the very green innocent who would come to much harm in this
+lovely form of diversion.
+
+[Illustration: A LITTLE YELLOW, EAR-TORN DOG BUSTLED OUT OF SOME SHED.]
+
+About a fortnight after the visits to the Lodestone had commenced, the
+Coon brought down with him a long-legged, thin-faced, horsey-looking
+individual, who introduced himself to Bourne as Raffles of Rotherhithe,
+and who laid himself out to be excessively friendly to Jack. He took,
+evidently, quite a professional interest in the sparring, and told Acton
+that "his left was quite a colourable imitation of the Coon's."
+
+"Not colourable, anyhow," said Acton, with a wink at Jack.
+
+"What do you think, sir, of Alabama's 'blind hook'?"
+
+Jack, who had not the remotest idea what a "blind hook" was, said it "was
+simply stunning."
+
+"Exactly my idea, sir. I see you know above a bit about the noble art."
+
+Raffles, as he would have said in his own special slang, worked the
+"friendly lay" so well upon Jack, that that young gentleman was captured
+to the last gun; you can do an awful lot of execution by deferring to the
+opinion of a young man of sixteen, or thereabouts, as to the merit of
+relying exclusively on the left.
+
+When the sparring was over, Raffles shuffled out with Jack into the yard
+and whistled. A little yellow, ear-torn dog bustled out of some shed and
+trotted demurely by Mr. Raffles' right boot.
+
+"See that dog, Mr. Bourne?"
+
+"By the way, Raffles, how did you know my name was Bourne?" asked Jack.
+
+"Mr. Acting mentioned that it was so. No offence, I hope, sir?"
+
+"Oh no!" said Jack.
+
+"Mr. Acting mentioned to me as how Warmint might amuse you."
+
+"Warmint! What the deuce is that?"
+
+"Why, the dawg."
+
+"Well, it's a pretty ugly brute anyhow, Raffles."
+
+"It is so; it's the colour--yellow is a mean colour. But he's a terror to
+go."
+
+"Where?" said Jack, uncivilly; for the man's manner, a mixture of
+familiarity and servility, had begun to pall on Jack's taste.
+
+"Why, there ain't a better, quicker, neater dawg in all London after the
+rats than Warmint. He holds the record south the Thames."
+
+"Is there a record then for rat killing? How is it done?"
+
+"Turn a sack o' long tails on to the floor and let the dawg among them.
+He works against time, of course."
+
+"Have the rats any chance of getting away?"
+
+"No fear."
+
+"Ugh!" said Jack, looking at the mongrel with intense disgust.
+
+"Is time for twenty--but I say, Mr. Bourne, if you like I'll bring a bag
+o' rats down, and you can see for yourself. While the other gentleman,
+Mr. Acting, is with the Coon, we can bring it off in the barn."
+
+"Man alive, no!" said Jack, with another spasm of disgust; "but if you've
+any other plans, Raffles, of killing an hour or so whilst Hill makes
+speeches, trot 'em out. I'm sick of pottering round his yard like an
+idiot. Are you coming with the Coon again?"
+
+"Pretty well every time. What do you say to a little game of billiards?"
+
+"Where?" said Jack.
+
+"Nice little 'ouse near 'ere, I know."
+
+"No fear! That's clean against the rules. Besides, who wants to knock
+balls about with a sticky cue on a torn billiard cloth, where the whole
+place reeks of beer and stale tobacco? No, thanks!"
+
+"Young gents used not to set so much store by rules when I was a lad."
+
+"We've changed since then, Raffles," said Jack, drily.
+
+"A little shooting?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Sparrers?" suggested Raffles, off-hand.
+
+"Rot!"
+
+"Bunnies?"
+
+"That's better, Raffles. If you can get me half an hour with Hill's
+rabbits, I'd risk that. Of course, there'd be a row if it was known.
+Acton won't inquire, I fancy, who's shooting?"
+
+"Mr. Acton won't, Mr. Bourne; he's a gentleman."
+
+"He's a monitor, though, Raffles, which is a different sort of animal."
+
+Raffles of Rotherhithe did not appear to think that Acton's being a
+monitor was a clinching argument barring young Bourne's sport. Perhaps he
+had private reasons for his opinions. Anyhow, he glibly promised to have
+a breech-loader and a ferret for young Bourne on the morrow.
+
+"And old Hill? They're his rabbits, you know."
+
+"That will be all right. Take Dan Raffles' word for it."
+
+"Now look here, Raffles; I'll give you sixpence for every rabbit I shoot,
+and I'll pay you for the cartridges. You'll keep all the rabbits, but you
+will lend me the gun."
+
+"Very good, sir," said Raffles, smartly.
+
+"And, Raffles," said Jack, eyeing over that individual with a curious
+mixture of amusement and dislike, "you needn't be too beastly friendly
+and chummy. I'm going to pay you for what you do, and don't fancy I'm
+going an inch further than I feel inclined. I'm paying the piper, and I'm
+going to choose all the tunes."
+
+"Orl right," said Raffles, considerably taken aback by the ultimatum.
+"I'll not be friendlier than I can 'elp."
+
+"Don't," said Jack.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+"EASY IS THE DOWNWARD ROAD"
+
+
+Aided by Raffles of Rotherhithe, young Bourne went royally through half
+the rules of the school. He called the tune to that extent. In the first
+place, one may believe that when he called in the aid of that horsey
+gentleman he had no further idea in his head than that of passing away
+those dull half-hours which Hill inflicted upon him.
+
+But, like many a wiser man, young Bourne found it was easier to conjure
+up a spirit than to lay one, and, having once accepted the aid of
+Raffles, he found it beyond his power to dispense with it, despite his
+brave word. So, unheedful of his brother's advice, he not merely put his
+innocent feet into the stream of forbidden pleasures, but waded in
+whole-heartedly up to the chin.
+
+Raffles, as promised, turned up on the next occasion provided with a
+ferret and a gun, and all difficulties were smoothed over with the
+farmer. Thus Jack Bourne took his post as the noble British sportsman
+just behind the Lodestone Moat, whilst Raffles, with his ferret, worked
+the bank, which was honey-combed with rabbit-holes. As the rabbits
+scurried out before the ferret, Jack blazed away noisily, and
+occasionally he had the pleasure of seeing a rabbit turning a somersault
+as it made its last bound. Certainly, Jack was not a dead shot, but when
+he contemplated the slain lying stark on the flanks of the bank, he felt
+the throaty joy of the slaughtering British schoolboy. He counted out to
+his worthy henchman four sixpences for the four slain with all the pride
+of the elephant-hunter paying his beaters yards of brass wire and calico.
+Raffles was properly grateful, of course.
+
+Then, as their acquaintance progressed, there were little competitions
+between Jack and Raffles at artificial pigeon-shooting, Raffles having
+fixed up the apparatus, and Jack, from the twenty-five yards' mark,
+occasionally winged his clay pigeon. It was very good sport in Jack's
+opinion. Further, that little "'ouse" which Raffles knew of also soon
+made the acquaintance of Jack, and he and Raffles on rainy afternoons
+snatched the fearful joys of hasty "hundreds up" or "fifties up," just as
+time allowed, Jack did not find the cue quite so sticky nor the charms of
+stale tobacco quite so unlovely as he had expected. The landlord, who
+marked for the two worthies, told our young gentleman that he had "a
+pretty 'and for the long jenny," and Jack felt he could not do less than
+order a little of his favourite beverage in return for his good opinion.
+And thus as ever. Under the expert tuition of Raffles, Jack became a
+little more of a "man" every day, and a little less of a decent fellow.
+He smoked, he could call for a "small port" in quite an off-hand fashion,
+he had played "shell out" with loafers at the little "'ouse," and he
+began to know a little more of betting, "gee-gees," and other kindred
+matters, than an average young fellow should know.
+
+"_Facilis descensus Averni_"--you know the old tag.
+
+By insensible gradations Jack Bourne found himself with a ruin of broken
+rules behind him, and still tied to the chariot-wheels of Raffles, who
+dragged him wherever he would. Jack's pockets, too, began to feel the
+drain, but luckily--or unluckily, if you look at it properly--he was
+rather flush this term, and as he had more than the usual allowance, he
+was not so short as he might have been.
+
+One thing bothered Jack, though he did not exactly put the idea that
+worried him into words. There was not much fun _really_ in this
+shooting, billiards, etc., since Jack broke all the rules alone. Now, if
+Poulett, or Wilson, or Rogers, or Grim had been with him, that would have
+been jolly. Besides that, since he could give his old chums so precious
+little of his time, and had perforce to head them off when they offered
+to bear him company on half-holidays, they called him many choice names.
+
+"I hear they sample all the public-houses between here and Westcote,"
+said Rogers. "Look what a dissipated eye Mr. Bourne's got."
+
+"Yours will soon be groggy, Rogers, my pet, though you are cock of your
+beastly water-lilies." After Sharpe's memorable poem, Biffen's house were
+always "water-lillies" to the rest of St. Amory's.
+
+"Ah?" said Poulett, "Jack carries Acton's notes to some yellow-haired
+dolly down at Westcote. She gives him milk whilst he's waiting for the
+answer."
+
+"Go and poach eggs, Poulett."
+
+"Don't do anything too mean, dear Jack, so that you'll make us blush for
+you."
+
+"Keep Acton out of mischief, Jack, remember he's only a poor forsaken
+monitor. Show him the ropes."
+
+"Good-bye, you chaps," said Jack, hopping on his bike, "here's Acton
+coming." The two would then pedal the well-known road to the Lodestone,
+and the elevating company of the Coon and Raffles.
+
+"Don't let Raffles bore you, young 'un," said Acton to Bourne one day as
+the owner of Warmint hove in sight. "Make him useful, but keep out of
+mischief."
+
+Jack, had he thought about the matter, might have reasonably asked Acton
+how he could make Raffles useful and yet keep out of mischief, but the
+Coon appearing at the stable-door in all the glory of a fur-lined coat,
+with a foot of fur round the collar and half a foot round the sleeves,
+and a bigger cigar than ever in his mouth, drove Jack's thoughts in
+another direction.
+
+Acton had really made marvellous progress under the Coon's coaching, and
+as Jack watched the usual concluding three rounds, he was puzzled in his
+own mind as to who could hold a candle up to his friend. This particular
+afternoon was to be the final appearance of the Coon, who was going to
+figure shortly as principal in some contest at Covent Garden, and Jack
+determined to miss no opportunity of catching the last wrinkles of the
+great professor's skill. Therefore, instead of sallying out as usual
+halfway through the performance in the stable, he sat on the corn-chest
+until Hill came in.
+
+"Good-bye, Coon! Hope you come off all right in your turn-up."
+
+"Good-bye, sir! Hope I'll train you when you start for the Heavy."
+
+"I'll give you the chance if I do. Come along, Raffles."
+
+When they were outside, Jack said, "By the way, Raffles, this will be
+your last appearance down here too, eh?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Raffles, "unless you make it worth my while to come
+down entirely on your account."
+
+"H'm, no," said Jack. "I'm deucedly short now, and when I've paid for the
+last fifty cartridges, and the last rabbits, I'll be still shorter."
+
+"Let it stand over, sir."
+
+"No," said Jack. "I've had the fun, and I'll pay, of course. Let's have a
+last dozen pigeons at the twenty-five yards' rise."
+
+Secretly, Jack was rather glad that Raffles' _rôle_ of entertainer
+was finished; for his stolen pleasures had lost a considerable part of
+their original sweetness, and their cost _was_ heavy. It would be
+quite a change, too, to get back to Grim and the others, and be the
+ordinary common sort of fellow again.
+
+Raffles went and wound up the throwing apparatus, and set the clay pigeon
+on the rest. Jack took his breech-loader, raised it to the shoulder, and
+said, "Ready!" Raffles pulled the string, the dummy bird rocketed up, and
+Jack pressed the trigger.
+
+For one second afterwards Jack did not rightly know what had happened.
+There was a blinding flash before his eyes, a something tore off his cap,
+and something stung his cheeks like spirts of scalding water. His left
+hand felt numb and dead. This all happened in the fraction of a moment.
+
+Jack looked at the gun in stupid wonder. The breech was clean blown out!
+With a groan of horror, he dropped the gun. He realized that he had
+escaped death by a miracle. He put up his right hand to his face, which
+felt on fire, and stared blankly at Raffles.
+
+That worthy was scared out of his wits; but when he saw Jack was more or
+less alive, he managed to jerk out--
+
+"That was a squeak, young shaver! Hurt any?"
+
+"Don't know," said Jack, blankly.
+
+Raffles anxiously examined him, and it was with no end of relief he
+said--
+
+"Clean bill, sir--bar those flecks of powder on your cheek.
+Considering--well you're--we're--lucky."
+
+"Rather," said Jack, dizzily. "That's my cap isn't it?"
+
+Yards away was Jack's cap, and Raffles brought it. His face was
+white--white above a bit. There was a clean cut through the brim, and a
+neat, straightforward tear-out of an inch or so of the front just above
+the crest.
+
+"Well," said Raffles, looking narrowly at that business-like damage. "All
+I can say is you're lucky."
+
+"Lucky! Yes," said Jack. "I suppose I'd better go. Let's have the thing.
+An inch lower down, and I'd have had that piece of barrel in my head--or
+through it. It wants thinking over."
+
+"I suppose, sir, you're going to----"
+
+"Oh, the cash you mean! Eh?"
+
+"Yes, that was my meaning."
+
+"Your cash will be all right, man. Come down for it on Friday--can't
+you?"
+
+"How if I can't, young shaver?" said Raffles of Rotherhithe.
+
+"Then do without it! Anyhow, I'm going now--I'm too sick."
+
+"All right," said Raffles, sulkily. "On Thursday."
+
+Jack, without another word, stumbled across the fields into the farmyard,
+and luckily found Acton ready for home. He shakily dropped into his
+saddle; and, with a mind pretty busy, he tailed wearily after Acton to
+St. Amory's.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+IN THE STABLE
+
+
+After tea that day Acton went down to the farm _solus_, not having,
+as you will presently see, any need of Jack's company, even if Bourne had
+felt any desire to accompany him, which he didn't.
+
+The monitor tinkled his bell, and in answer to the ringing, Raffles
+lounged out of a barn, the inseparable Warmint trotting at his master's
+heels.
+
+"Suppose we'd better go into the stable, Raffles."
+
+The odour of the Coon's afternoon cigar still hung about the place, and
+the stable was half dark, but as Acton had an idea that his conversation
+with Raffles would not be a short one, and the night was rather cold,
+they went in.
+
+"Fire away, Raffles. Start at the beginning."
+
+"Very good, sir," said Raffles, seating himself on the corn-chest.
+"Agreeable to instructions received from Mr. Acting----"
+
+"Acton," suggested that gentleman.
+
+"Acting--I said so, didn't I? Very well! Agreeable to instructions
+received from you, sir, I prepared----"
+
+"Don't be so beastly legal, you ass!"
+
+"Let a cove tell 'is tale 'is own way, sir. We'll get on better like
+that. As I was going to say, following your tip, I prepared to show that
+young shaver, Bourne, a few things which as you told me he ought not to
+know of, and to do a few things which you told me he ought not to do--in
+fact, to put him on the way of breakin' every blessed rule that that beak
+of your school 'as drawn up for the guidance of the youth and the
+beauties under 'is 'and. What's the name of the beak, sir?"
+
+"Oh, Moore!" said Acton, impatiently.
+
+"The young shaver spoke of 'im different."
+
+"Corker, perhaps," said Acton.
+
+"That's it," continued Raffles. "Well, Corker 'asn't got a thoroughbred
+greenhorn in Bourne, Mr. Acting."
+
+"No. Young Bourne's head is on his shoulders, more or less. Get on."
+
+"Well, we opened the ball with a little bunny-shootin', for he couldn't
+stand Warmint's workin' among the rats. He shoots moderate straight, so I
+doctored his cartridges, or he'd have cleared out the bank. Not more than
+two in the half-dozen, sir. And then he couldn't understand it. What
+might Corker say to the bunnies, sir?"
+
+"Oh, a thrashing, perhaps, and a stringing up for the rest of the term."
+
+"We went to the Blue Cow on wet days. Billiards, beer, and 'baccy, Mr.
+Acting, was the true bill there. What's the law on those fancy articles?"
+
+"A thrashing for first course, and _et ceteras_ which you wouldn't
+understand."
+
+"Well, he's earned 'em. We couldn't do any betting on the horses, since
+the Lincolnshire Handicap is not in sight yet, but he fluttered a little
+on the Sporting Club matches; and he was lucky--more than ordinary."
+
+"You didn't wing him there, then?"
+
+"Nothing to speak of. He may have dropped half a sov. altogether, but I
+doubt it."
+
+"Then, Raffles, you're a fool. Do you think I brought you down here to be
+moral instructor to young Bourne, you grey old badger? Couldn't you bag
+an innocent of sixteen or so? Besides, what the deuce do you mean by
+tipping me the wink as Bourne and I used to get on our 'bikes'? You
+always did it, and I thought you were winding up the youngster hand over
+hand."
+
+"Them winks," said Raffles, diplomatically, "was meant to show that I was
+moving--moving slow, but sure. You've observed, Mr. Acting, yourself, as
+'ow the young shaver had a head on 'is shoulders."
+
+"Yes, but I didn't bargain for yours being off your shoulders."
+
+"Well, what with bunnies, cartridges, and the Blue Cow, and the other
+extras, he is about cleaned out now."
+
+"Cleaned out!" said Acton, with intense irritation. "That's not what I
+wanted. I told you distinctly that I must have him five pounds deep at
+the least. How can I engineer my schemes if my sharpers can't cut? You'll
+look blue, Raffles, when I settle your account, take my word for it."
+
+"Not quite so quick off the mark, Mr. Acting. What do you value this
+piece of ironmongery at?"
+
+Raffles fished up the gun which had burst in Jack's hands that afternoon
+from behind the corn-chest, and held it up to the light.
+
+"A burst gun!" said Acton. "It's worth throwing away; no more."
+
+"It was worth this morning, say fifteen bob, before Bourne blew its ribs
+out."
+
+"Jove!" said Acton, "let me handle the thing." He looked at the torn
+breech, and whistled with involuntary horror. "Much of a squeak,
+Raffles?"
+
+"Touch and go, sir. He'll never be nearer pegging out than he was this
+afternoon; for he scraped the gates of his family buryin'-place, in a
+manner of speakin.' It went clean through his hat--rim and crown."
+
+"Did he know his luck?"
+
+"Nobody better."
+
+"He looked more than average queer as we trotted home. I thought he was
+digesting your little bill, Raffles."
+
+"No; he only owes me a matter of shillin's. But I could say that I
+ticketed the gun at £5 or £6, when the old shooter wasn't worth----"
+
+"Fifteen bob," said Acton, looking at the worn barrel.
+
+"See where I have--where you have--the youngster tied neatly up? He owes
+me--or you--seven, eight, nine pounds, or any fancy figure I--or you--
+like to mention for that old piece of iron there."
+
+"Raffles, we're in luck! Luck has served me better than all your downy
+work."
+
+"It has," said that bright specimen of humanity, regretfully. "I can't
+pretend that I'd any hand in the blowing out of them blessed barrels."
+
+"All right, Raffles; don't weep. You'd have done it, of course, if you'd
+thought about it," said Acton, with a curious sneer; "but this is my
+plan--as far as you're concerned. When young Bourne comes, you're to ask
+for £7 10s. And you're to be an adamantine Jew; you're to have the money
+instanter, or there'll be a rumpus."
+
+"I twig. Make it seven guineas, though," said Raffles, generously.
+
+"Seven guineas! So be it. You can suggest that, unless you get the cash,
+you would see Moore."
+
+"Corker, D.D.? I'm on."
+
+"Or Bourne, senior."
+
+"The shaver's brother. I'm tumbling to the dodge."
+
+"Bourne will curl up at this."
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"But you're still the blood-thirsty Jew."
+
+"Moses, and Aaron, and the rest."
+
+"You'll suggest at last that I be tackled for a loan."
+
+"And you'll lend it him!" said Raffles, with an unspeakable leer.
+
+"The business wants careful handling, remember. Young Bourne will think
+twice about borrowing, and, perhaps, if he could keep me out of it, would
+stand your racket, or Corker's either. So drive him lightly."
+
+"You'll see him on the borrowing tack to-morrow, Mr. Acting."
+
+"And the rest is my business."
+
+"Where do I come in?"
+
+"You can cleave to the seven guineas--if you earn 'em."
+
+"Seven pounds ten, Mr. Acting."
+
+"Seven pound seven, Mr. Raffles. Your own proposal."
+
+"Orl right," said Raffles, resignedly. "I think I know them ropes."
+
+"Good!" said Acton. "Then you can scuttle now to Rotherhithe, or where the
+deuce else you like. I'm off."
+
+Acton wheeled out his bicycle and melted into the gathering dark, and his
+jackal lurched off to the station and reached Rotherhithe to dream of his
+seven guineas which he was going to get. Raffles felt sure of those seven
+guineas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+GRIM'S SUSPICIONS
+
+
+As I said before, Jack Bourne, after the first bloom of his forbidden
+pleasures had worn off, rather repented of the Raffles' connection, and
+would gladly have exchanged it for the old, easy, open, and above-board
+society of his chums. Grim, Rogers, Wilson, Poulett, etc., were, on their
+side, rather sore at Jack's continual desertion of them and their causes.
+They had just seen him pedalling easily after Acton, throwing them a
+rather mirthless joke as he ran past, and they had, naturally, held a
+council to consider matters.
+
+"Wherever can the beggar get to is what I want to know," said Wilson.
+
+"Can any one tell me what he wants with Acton?" said Grim.
+
+"I think that it's Acton that wants him," said Rogers. "Come to think of
+it, Grimmy, you're Acton's man. Why doesn't he lag you?"
+
+"Grimmy's not to be trusted. He'd read the _billet-doux_"
+
+"I don't believe that there's any notes, Wilson," said Grim,
+impressively, "in this business. It's something deeper than that."
+
+"What's the mystery, Mr. Grimmy Sherlock Combs?"
+
+"Poachin'," said Grim, solemnly.
+
+"What!" exclaimed the other, with breathless interest.
+
+"Dunno, quite," said Grim; "but that young ass dropped a cartridge from
+his pocket the other day."
+
+"There's nothing to poach here, Grimmy."
+
+"There's Pettigrew's pheasants," said Grim, mysteriously.
+
+"But you don't shoot them in March."
+
+"_We_ don't, Poulett, but poachers do."
+
+"Tisn't likely that Acton----"
+
+"Well, don't know," said Rogers, reflectively. "He's lived so long in
+France, where they shoot robins and nightingales, that he'll not know."
+
+"But Bourne would."
+
+"That's why he looks so blue. He does know, and it preys on his mind."
+
+W.E. Grim's pathetic picture of young Bourne turned out-of-season poacher
+against his will by an inexorable Acton didn't seem quite to fill the
+bill.
+
+"Grimmy, you're an absolute idiot. That poachin' dodge won't do. Perhaps,
+after all, they only bike round generally."
+
+"What about that cartridge?" said Grim.
+
+The little knot of cronies discussed the matter for a good half-hour,
+Grim holding tenaciously to a poaching theory--pheasants or rabbits--the
+others scouting the idea as next door to the absurd.
+
+"Look here," said Wilson, brilliantly, "we'll track the pair to their
+earth to-morrow. If they're after birds or bunnies I'll stand tea all
+round at Hooper's."
+
+"All right," said Grim. "I'd like to know about that cartridge."
+
+On the morrow the suspicious band quietly trotted out after dinner from
+St. Amory's, dressed ostensibly for a run down Westcote way. Once down
+the hill they lay well out in the fields, keeping a sharp watch through
+the hedges for their quarry. When they saw two well-known figures, feet
+on the rest, coasting merrily down and head for Westcote, they all drew a
+long breath and girded up their loins for the race.
+
+"With luck and the short cuts," said Grim, stepping out, "we may just see
+'em sneak into Pettigrew's woods."
+
+"And we've got a mile in hand too," said Wilson.
+
+The cronies ran tightly together, nursing their wind and keeping well
+screened from eyeshot from the road, not that either Acton, or Bourne
+dreamed that their afternoon's run was being dogged by anyone. From their
+numerous short cuts the scouts were necessarily out of view from the
+road, but they marked the two cyclists from point to point and themselves
+headed up hill and down dale straight for Westcote. They felt pretty well
+winded by now, as they stood panting in a breezy spinney, watching for
+the appearance of their quarry on the brown road beneath them.
+
+"There they are," gasped Wilson, pretty blown.
+
+"There's only one," said Rogers, "and it is that young owl Bourne, too.
+He's shed Acton."
+
+"Perhaps he's punctured," suggested Grim; "anyhow, we hang on to Jack."
+
+Rather puzzled at the non-appearance of Acton, they kept the first-comer
+well in view as he pedalled hard for Westcote.
+
+"That's Jack right enough," said Rogers; "and we'll have to leg it or
+he'll slip us. Jove! he's captured a wheel with a vengeance. Hear it
+hum."
+
+The quartette strung down the hill full pelt, but when they got to the
+bottom the cyclist was a good hundred yards ahead. His pursuers came to a
+dead stop.
+
+"May as well go home now," said Grim, in great disgust. "We can't dog him
+now, and anyhow it isn't Pettigrew's pheasants that Jack's after: he's
+gone past the woods. What a bone-shaker he's captured. Hear the spokes
+rattlin'."
+
+"Not so quick, Grimmy. He's wheeling into that little Westcote inn. We'll
+run him down now."
+
+The rider had indeed dismounted nearly a quarter mile ahead, and
+instantly the Amorians were stringing down the road again. Before the
+door of the little inn they found a bicycle propped up drunkenly against
+the wall, and the Amorians, pumped though they were, had breath enough
+left to explode over Bourne's machine. It was a "solid" of
+pre-diamond-frame days, guiltless of enamel or plating, and handle-bars
+of width generous enough for a Dutch herring-boat's bow.
+
+"There's no false pride about Jack," said Grim, gloating over the weird
+mount. "Whatever is he doing in here?"
+
+"Liquid refreshment," said Rogers between a gulp and a gasp. "Oh, Jack,
+was it for this and this that you gave us the go-by?"
+
+"This place doesn't seem Jack's form somehow," said Wilson, looking
+doubtfully up and down the little inn.
+
+"Ring him out, Wilson," said Grim. "His little game's up now, and we can
+rag him for an age over this."
+
+"Let's try his mount first, Grimmy." Rogers wheeled out the machine and,
+after hopping twenty yards, "found" the saddle. To mount it was one
+thing, to ride it was evidently a matter of liberal education beyond the
+attainments of a junior Amorian, for, as Rogers attempted a modest sweep
+round, the machine collapsed, and he was sprawling on his back, the
+bicycle rattling about his ears. Then--it seemed automatically to the
+gasping Amorians--a sturdy youth rushed out of the inn flourishing a
+half-emptied glass of beer in one hand, and he seized the struggling
+Rogers by the scruff of the neck with the other. Rogers was
+unceremoniously jerked to his feet before he quite realized what it was
+all about. One or two men lounged out of the inn, and surveyed the scene
+dispassionately, and the landlord pushed his way forward.
+
+"Wot's the matter?"
+
+"Matter!" gasped the youth, tightening his hold on Rogers' collar and
+waving his glass dramatically.
+
+"This young shaver was going to nick my bike. I seen him."
+
+"I wasn't, you fool----" began Rogers, who did not like the man's
+knuckles in his neck.
+
+"Fool am I, you little ugly thief? Worn't you a-scorchin' down the road
+w'it? I see you."
+
+The other Amorians curled up with laughter at the way things were mixing
+up, and at the last exquisite joke.
+
+"Jove, Rogers, to think you meant to steal it!" burbled Poulett.
+
+"Leave loose of my collar, you idiot," said Rogers, squirming in the
+man's grasp; "I tell you it's all a mistake."
+
+"That's all my h'eye. I see you sneak it, and it'll be a month for you.
+Sneaking bikes is awful! Mistake be blowed."
+
+"Oh! explain, some of you," said Rogers, frantically, "before I--Grim,
+tell the lunatic."
+
+The Amorians were beyond mere laughter now, but the landlord had wit
+enough to see that there was some mistake somewhere, and he finally
+persuaded the owner of the bicycle to moderate his attentions to the
+exasperated Rogers. Grim recovered sufficiently to lift some of the
+suspicions from that ill-used youth.
+
+"We thought you were a friend of ours--back view only and at a distance,
+you know--but you're not very like him, really, in the face. His name's
+Bourne."
+
+"Mine's 'Arris," said the bicycle owner, angrily.
+
+"A very nice name, too;" said Grim, soothingly. "You'd better see what's
+the damage to the machine for we must be trotting back to St. Amory's."
+
+Mr. Harris spun the pedals and tried the wheels.
+
+"It's shook up considerable, that's wot it is."
+
+"All right," said Grim, hastily. "Here's a shilling. Give it a drink of
+beer."
+
+This was a wretched joke really, but it brightened the face of Mr. Harris
+considerably when he heard it, and the loafers departed from their
+dispassionate attitude, and became quite friendly. The landlord went in
+to draw beer.
+
+A minute afterwards the quartette was heading back for St. Amory's as
+hard as it could go, and whenever a halt was called for breath, three of
+the cronies collapsed on the earth, and howled at Rogers, who could not
+see the joke.
+
+Over a quiet little tea, after call-over, at Hooper's Rogers explained
+fully his views.
+
+"No, I'm not going to do any more detective work. We missed Acton and
+Bourne beautifully; they don't go to Westcote, and Grimmy's idea about
+poachin' 's rotten. He may be Acton's messenger-boy or the rider of a
+decent pneumatic, but I'm going to let him go his own way."
+
+When, afterwards, they rubbed embrocation into their wearied limbs, the
+rest agreed with Rogers.
+
+"But, yet," said Grim, "I'd like to know about that cartridge too."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+TODD "FINDS HIMSELF"
+
+
+Todd had found out all the unpainted beauty of public-school life without
+pocket money, and discovered that existence was just possible. A shilling
+on your watchchain and a shilling's worth of stamps admit of no luxuries,
+and Todd, through his impecuniosity, even if he had wished, could not
+have done anything else but work. Taylor's house was supposed to provide
+a fairly liberal table, but Gus really did miss his after-dinner cup of
+coffee at Hooper's, and not many fellows would regard long letters to and
+from home as being the _summum bonum_ of the week. Yet Todd had come
+to regard his mamma's letters--four-paged gossip about his sisters, his
+brothers, the horses, and the dogs--in the light of luxuries.
+
+Consequently, with nothing to distract him, Gus really did work. His
+standing in the Fifth sensibly increased. Merishall did not make
+elaborate jokes on his Latin, and Corker not once let fall the warning
+eye-glass preparatory to savaging him for his Greek, formerly called so
+by a courtesy title. There was a world of difference between his old
+haphazard slip-slop and his present honest attempts in the ways of
+scholarship.
+
+The half-holidays, though, dragged dreadfully, for Gus was one of those
+fellows who have no natural aptitude for games, and he had a theory that
+he did not care a straw about them either. Being in the Fifth he could,
+of course, suit himself what he did with his halfers. Sometimes, in very
+desperation, he would lounge down to the Acres, and wander forlornly from
+goal post to goal post, and sometimes he spent the afternoon amusing
+himself--with Lancaster's express approval--in the laboratory, and so
+effaced previous bad impressions from the science master's mind. Gus,
+however, was honest enough with himself to own that he would rather have
+had an aimless stroll with Cotton than any amount of footer-gazing or
+"bottle-washing." But Cotton had definitely thrown him over; they did not
+nod when they met, and Jim was very careful not to see Gus walking in
+solitary state in the roadway.
+
+Todd was moodily looking out of his window one halfer, and discontentedly
+wondering how he could exist till he should switch on the electric for
+the evening grind, when a not unfamiliar knock sounded on the door. Gus
+faced round wonderingly, and opened the door. The house-master dropped
+into the chair which Todd hastily drew out for him.
+
+"I thought I should catch you in, Todd. Nothing on, have you?"
+
+"No, sir," said Todd.
+
+"No particular engagement for this afternoon."
+
+"No, sir," said Gus, with a half sigh merging into a half smile, "though
+I did think of going down to the Acres, and looking at the footer."
+
+"I'm glad of that," said Taylor, as though he really were. "I promised to
+referee this afternoon--Hargon's _v_. Sharpe's--but I want to cry
+off now. Neuralgia, Todd, is simply torturing me this moment, and
+refereeing wouldn't improve it. Do you mind taking my place? Do please
+say 'No' if you'd rather not."
+
+"Very sorry, sir," said Gus, referring to the neuralgia. "Referee!"
+
+"Yes," said Taylor, with a ghost of a smile at Todd's astonishment.
+
+"Certainly, I will, sir--I mean I'll take your place. But the fellows
+will gasp when I step into the arena."
+
+"Thank you, Todd. Why will they gasp?"
+
+"Footer isn't my line, sir."
+
+"Hasn't been, Todd. Anyhow, they'll be delighted when you whistle them
+up."
+
+"I hope they'll be delighted when I've finished, sir," said Gus,
+doubtfully.
+
+"One side won't, of course," said Taylor, cheerfully. "That is natural,
+and the usual thing. Do you know, I never played football, but I like
+refereeing immensely. Positive it's the best thing after playing, and I
+know that a really first-class referee is a very rare fowl. Of course
+it's the off-side rule and, etc."
+
+Taylor delivered himself of a little homily on the subject of refereeing.
+He was enthusiastic almost to the point of forgetting his neuralgia, and
+Todd got quite interested in the theme so earnestly handled. He had not
+thought there was much fun in it until the house-master unfolded its
+possibilities, but he took over the whistle fairly sanguine.
+
+"I'll do my best, sir," said Gus, in conclusion; "and if they stone me
+off the Acres----"
+
+"I'll bury my reputation as a prophet under the missiles."
+
+In one thing Todd was certainly right. When he found Hargon's _v_.
+Sharpe's pitch and told the assembled twenty-two--rather diffidently, I
+must own--that he was the deputy referee, they did gasp.
+
+"Show us your whistle, Gus," said Higgins, Hargon's captain, doubtfully.
+
+Gus held it up, with a genial and childlike smile.
+
+"Got the rules in your pocket, too, I suppose."
+
+"I have," said Todd--"for reference. But I know _now_, Higgins, that
+goal-keepers cannot take more than two steps with the ball, and----"
+
+Sharpe's lot guffawed at Todd's neat little thrust at Higgins's little
+failing as a goal-keeper.
+
+"But don't you worry, Hig; I'll see you through all right. Three-quarter
+each way, I suppose?"
+
+Todd gave his whole mind to the refereeing, and soon warmed to business.
+He found that there was heaps more fun in it than he had bargained for,
+and as he was a sharp, quick, and clever youth he came out of the ordeal
+with flying colours. He made mistakes, naturally, but momentous issues
+depended on none of them, and he felt he had not done so badly when
+Higgins, at half-time, spoke to him as one in authority to another. But
+Palmer, the captain of Sharpe's lot--the beaten side--put the coping
+stone to a pleasant afternoon by asking Gus to referee for them against
+Merishall's. Gus walked off the field a happy man.
+
+From that afternoon Todd had no excuse for loafing away any halfer. His
+services as referee were in demand, not merely as a matter of utility,
+but of preference. Taylor, who had watched rather anxiously Todd's
+progress, smiled easily at the success of his understudy.
+
+"I say," said Bourne to me, "what's come over Todd? Blessed if that usual
+ass didn't handle the Fifth _v_. Sixth to-day simply beautifully.
+When you're lynched, Gus will fill your shoes completely. Talks so-so,
+too. Who's improving him?"
+
+I acted on Phil's advice, and Todd and I parcelled out the outstanding
+fixtures between us. Then Todd became one of the best-known fellows in
+the school, and strolled up the hill with Worcester, Acton, Vercoe, and
+other heroes as to the manner born. The old, lazy, shallow, shifty,
+shiftless Gus was drifting into the background every day.
+
+Then Todd gave us a final shock. I was hurrying down the High when a
+constable asked me if I could tell him "where a young gentleman named
+Todd lived."
+
+"I'm passing by his house," said I, more than a trifle puzzled as to what
+the police might want with Gus. "Hope it isn't house-breaking,
+constable?"
+
+"No, sir," said he, laughing. "It is a matter of ice-breakin'."
+
+I expect I looked mystified.
+
+"Mr. Todd, sir, fished out of the water just below the Low Locks a common
+ordinary drunk, Robins--a bargee. That was yesterday afternoon, and this
+morning the superintendent sends me to see how he is."
+
+I looked more blankly ignorant than before.
+
+"He's kept it dark, I see, sir. There isn't a bigger fool alive than
+Robins when he's drunk--which he mostly--what is--and he acted yesterday
+up to the usual form of drunks. He _would_ go on the ice just below
+the locks, when it would hardly bear a sparrer, let alone a drunk Robin,
+and he naturally goes under before he'd gone a dozen yards. Mr. Todd went
+for him without, I fancy, considering the risks. He broke the ice up to
+that forsaken Robins, and waded in after him. When _we_ got there he
+was up to his neck in water, and he'd got the fool by the collar; then we
+pulled 'em both out. Mind, up to his chin in that frozen water! We
+thought Robins was a goner from cold when we landed 'im, and asked Mr.
+Todd's name as bein' likely to be required at the inquest. But, bless
+you, sir, Robins pulled through all right; that sort generally does."
+
+"Was there any one to help Todd, when he went for the fellow?"
+
+"No, sir; he just waded in and took his chance. I wouldn't--at least not
+for an ord'nary drunk. Mr. Todd just ran home as he was: said the sprint
+would warm him to rights. How is he?"
+
+"Got a vile cold; he was barking pretty well all chapel."
+
+"And Robins," said the policeman, in disgust, "doesn't own up to a
+snuffle. This Mr. Todd's house, sir?"
+
+"Yes. I'd just ask to see Mr. Taylor, the house-master, first. I fancy
+he'll be pleased to see you."
+
+The constable's plain, unvarnished tale gave the Rev. E. Taylor as
+pleasant a ten minutes as he had enjoyed for some time, and he passed on
+the worthy man to the butler with instructions as to "something hot."
+Then he rapped on Todd's door.
+
+Decidedly the ship _Agustus Vernon Robert Todd_ "had found herself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+RAFFLES' BILL
+
+
+It was with hearty thankfulness at the idea of being finally rid of
+Raffles that Jack walked over to the "Lodestone" by himself on the
+Thursday, jingling his last few shillings in his pockets. Raffles was
+waiting for him in the stables, and he was very friendly and familiar,
+which always annoyed Jack immensely.
+
+"Glad you're in time, sir, and to 'ear the dibs a-rattlin' in your
+pockets."
+
+"Because they'll rattle in yours, soon, I suppose. I make out I owe you
+about ten shillings, Raffles."
+
+"'Ow do you make that out, Mr. Bourne?"
+
+"Rabbits, cartridges, and dummy pigeons. I'm about right, I fancy?"
+
+"Right as far as they go."
+
+"As far as they go, of course--not farther. Then here you are."
+
+"And the gun," said Raffles, calmly, looking into vacancy, and not
+seeing Jack's coins--"leastwise, wot was a gun."
+
+"Am I to pay for that filthy article?" said Jack, angrily. "Why, it
+nearly blew my brains out!"
+
+"'As'e to pay for that breech-loader gun?" said Raffles, laughing
+softly as at some good joke. "Why, of course you have."
+
+"My opinion is, Raffles, that that gun was rotten. It wasn't worth a
+sovereign. I don't believe it was ever fit to shoot with, now."
+
+"Of course, _now_," said Raffles, with a sneer. "_Now_, when you've got
+to pay for it."
+
+"I don't know so much about 'have got to pay for it' at all. That grin
+of yours doesn't improve your looks, Raffles," said Jack, who was rather
+nettled by Raffles' sneer.
+
+"Well, my bantam cock," said Raffles, savagely, "I only 'opes as this
+'ere bill won't spoil yours. And let me tell you, young shaver, I want
+the money."
+
+Jack calmly took the piece of note-paper which Raffles hurriedly fished
+out of his pocket, and flourished dramatically before Bourne. There was
+a touching simplicity about Raffles' bill-making that would in ordinary
+times have made Jack split with laughter, but, naturally, at the present
+time he did not feel in a very jovial frame of mind. Hence he read
+through the farrago with only one very strong desire--to kick Raffles
+neck and crop out of the stable. This was the bill:--
+
+  Mr. burn owes me daniel raffles this money.
+
+  To bunneys at sixpence each... 2 0
+  To 50 cartrigges......         6 6
+  To pidgins.........            1 6
+  1 gunn breech loder......  £7  0 0
+                             _______
+  totel                      £7 10 0
+
+"Now, Raffles," said Jack, in a white heat, "what do you mean by this
+rotten foolery?"
+
+"There's no foolery about it," said Raffles, sulkily. "That's my bill."
+
+"Why, you unspeakable rascal, did you fancy I'd pay it?"
+
+"I did, and I do."
+
+Something in the fellow's tone made Jack a trifle uneasy, and he
+considered within himself for a moment what he had better do. That the
+rascal had made up his mind to be nasty was evident, and when Jack
+thought that the gun, poor as it was, was destroyed, though through no
+fault of his own, he thought perhaps he might give his old jackal
+something as a solatium.
+
+"All right, Raffles! I'll pay you for what I owe you now, and I'll give
+you a sovereign for the gun. I'll send you that in a day or two. I've no
+more money with me now."
+
+"That ain't the bill. I want this 'ere bill paid."
+
+"'This 'ere bill' is sheer rot!" retorted Jack.
+
+"Rot or not, it's what I want from you. You pay up that seven odd, or it
+will be the worse for you. What is seven odd to a young gent like you?
+Aren't you all millionaires at St. Amory's?"
+
+"Not by a long chalk."
+
+"Well, I don't want to be unpleasant, my buck, but if you won't pay over
+I'll show you up."
+
+"Show me up, you beast--what do you mean?"
+
+"I'll write to Corker and blow the gaff."
+
+"If you did that," said Bourne, grimly, "I'd kill you first day I could
+do it."
+
+[Illustration: "I'M GOING TO HAVE THE SEVEN TEN, OR SHOW YOU UP."]
+
+"Or I'd write to your brother."
+
+"And he'd do it now, you skunk!"
+
+"No names, young gent. That won't pay my bill. You don't seem to imagine
+I mean what I say."
+
+"No, I don't, for you wouldn't be any _nearer_ getting the money."
+
+"But then you say you aren't going to pay anyhow, so I may as well touch
+you up a bit. You've most every time told me not to be so beastly
+friendly, and I ain't going to be. I'm going to have the seven ten or
+show you up. That's straight."
+
+"Show me up," repeated Jack, blankly. "You miserable blackmailer!"
+Bourne felt then the beautiful feelings of being in the grasp of a
+low-bred cad who could play with him as a cat with a mouse. He sat
+staring in front of him livid with rage, and Raffles, who was watching
+him covertly, and with no small anxiety, could see he was digesting the
+whole situation. Jack would indeed then and there have let Raffles do
+his worst, and would have stood the racket from Corker--and his
+brother--rather than be blackmailed by the villain by his side, but he
+said hopelessly to himself, "How can I do it without bringing Acton into
+it? When this comes out all his training with the Coon must come out
+too; perhaps he'll lose his monitorship for not keeping his hand on me,
+and Phil's done him a bad enough turn already. I can't round on him.
+Heavens! I can't do that."
+
+This reads rather pitiful, doesn't it, under the circumstances?
+
+Jack at the end of his resources tried a desperate bluff.
+
+"I'll put Acton on your track, my beauty, and perhaps he'll make you
+see--or feel--reason."
+
+"That game's no good, young shaver. I don't want to see Mr. Acting no
+more than you want to tell him of your little blow-outs. Look here, are
+you going to pay? Yes or no?"
+
+"I haven't got the money," said Jack, at his wits' end.
+
+"Ho! that's very likely," said Raffles, with a sneer; "anyhow, you could
+mighty soon get it if you wanted to."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Why, borrow it, of course. Ask your chum, Mr. Acting. _He_ 'as money.
+No end of brass, the Coon says."
+
+"I can't do that," said Jack, in utter despair.
+
+"Orl right," said Raffles, seeing his shot had told. "I see you ain't
+got the money on you now, and I don't want to be too 'ard on you. I'll
+give you a chance. I'll give you till Saturday to turn it over. My
+advice is to borrow from Mr. Acting. He'll lend it you, I should think;
+anyhow, I can't stand shilly-shallying here all night, no more than I
+can stand the loss of that grand gun, so I'm off. Have the money by
+Saturday at three, or I blow the gaff and you can be hung up or cut up
+for all I care. I'm not going to be more beastly friendly nor more
+chummy than that."
+
+Raffles lurched off with a savage leer, and Jack staggered back to St.
+Amory's.
+
+Jack's life was a burden to him for the next few hours, his head nearly
+split with the hatching of impossible plans with loopholes to escape the
+weasel on his track, but the end was as Acton had foreseen. Acton got a
+note through Grim.
+
+"DEAR ACTON,
+  "Could you give me ten minutes in your study to-night?--Yours,
+"J. BOURNE."
+
+"DEAR BOURNE,
+  "Twenty, if you like.--Yours,
+"J. ACTON."
+
+Jack went, and when Acton put him into the easy-chair and noticed his
+white, fagged face, he felt genuinely sorry for him.
+
+"You look seedy, young 'un."
+
+"I hope I don't look as seedy as I feel, that's all."
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+Jack boggled over what he'd come to say, but finally blurted out:
+"Acton, would you lend me seven pounds? I'm in a hole, the deuce of a
+hole; in fact, I'm pretty well hopelessly stumped. I'll tell you why if
+you ask me, but I hope you won't. I've been an ass, but I've collared
+some awful luck, and I'm not quite the black sheep I seem. I don't want
+to ask Phil--in fact, I couldn't, simply couldn't ask him for this. I'll
+pay you back beginning of next term if I can raise as much, and if not,
+as much as I can then, and the rest later."
+
+"Oh, you're straight enough, young 'un, and I'll lend you the money,"
+said Acton.
+
+Jack blubbed in his thanks, for he was really run down.
+
+"Keep up your pecker, Bourne. Borrowing isn't a crime, quite. When do
+you want the cash?"
+
+"By to-morrow, please," said Jack.
+
+"Call in for it, then, before afternoon school, and you can pay me back
+as you say. I suppose the sharks have got hold of you."
+
+"Yes," said Jack, with perfect truth, though he only knew of one, and he
+went to bed that night blessing Acton. His gorge rose when he thought of
+his fleecing, and at this he almost blubbed with rage as he blubbed with
+gratitude to Acton.
+
+That interesting Shylock, Raffles, was at the farm confidently waiting
+young Bourne and his coins, and when he saw the young innocent bowling
+furiously down the road, he sighed with satisfaction. His dream was
+true.
+
+"Write out the receipt."
+
+"I've already done it, Mr. Bourne."
+
+"Then here's your blackmail."
+
+"Correct to the figure, sir, and I think it's a settle, nice and
+comfortable for all parties."
+
+"If it's any comfort for you to know you're an utter blackguard you can
+hear it. A fellow like you isn't on the same level as your filthy
+mongrel."
+
+"I never said we was," murmured Raffles, as he shuffled away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+HODGSON'S QUIETUS
+
+
+Acton now felt pretty safe as regards young Bourne. He held him fast in
+the double bonds of indebtedness and of gratitude, and with Jack the
+gratitude was by far the greater. Acton had saved him from disgrace,
+from a lengthened stringing up, from the scorn of his brother, from the
+jeers and laughter of the rest of the fellows. Like others, he could
+have stood Corker's rage better than the jokes of his cronies. He was
+received back into the fold of his own particular set with more _éclat_
+than he felt he deserved.
+
+"Here's old Bourne gone and sacked Acton," said Grim.
+
+"Sure Acton hasn't sacked him?" suggested Rogers.
+
+"Best fellow breathing," said Bourne, fervently.
+
+"Still, he's Biffen's."
+
+"I don't care whether he's a water-lily or not--he can't help that, you
+know, poor fellow."
+
+"Why should he? Aren't we cock house?"
+
+"Where would you have been if Acton hadn't lifted you out of your muddy
+pond, and let you see a little sunlight?"
+
+"You should be his fag," said Grim.
+
+"I'd jolly well like to," said Jack. "I'd black his boots almost."
+
+"He's a dozen pairs," said Grim.
+
+"Write a poem on his virtues," suggested Rogers.
+
+"Shut up this rot," said Wilson. "Let's try a run round the Bender--last
+fellow stands tea at Hoopers."
+
+"Carried, _nem. con_.," said Grim, who was pretty speedy.
+
+And the reunited half-dozen cronies ran the three miles out and ditto
+home, Wilson subsequently standing tea, for, as he pathetically
+explained, "I was overhauling Rogers hand over hand when I slipped my
+shoe, else he'd have had to fork out." Thus Jack became again for a
+while the common or garden variety of school-boy, and he enjoyed the
+change.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Phil Bourne came into my room the same evening that saw Jack Bourne
+released from the toils of Raffles.
+
+"Busy, old man?"
+
+"Not at all," said I, pushing away my books. "Jolly glad you've come
+in."
+
+"There's a bit of news for you. I've just been in the gym. I fancy the
+old school will pull off the 'Heavy' at Aldershot."
+
+"Has Hodgson turned out so jolly well, then?"
+
+"Hodgson! Oh no! Hodgson isn't going to be the school's representative
+this year, I fancy."
+
+"Why, have you been in form to-night?"
+
+"Look here, old man, you are quite out of it. You sit here reading up
+all that ancient lore about the cestus, and you could tell me the names
+of all Nero's gladiators, and yet here at this establishment we've got a
+gladiator who is going to make history, and you don't know it."
+
+"I thought you were the only fellow who could show Hodgson anything."
+
+"No," said Phil. "I never was as good as Hodgson. I always made a point
+of making him go all the way to win on principle, but he always had a
+pull more or less over me. You see, Hodgson is lazy, and he wanted some
+one to challenge the right to represent the school, or I don't fancy
+he'd have put in enough good work to stand much chance against the Eton
+man. Therefore I stepped into the breach, and, by sweating him, have
+made Hodgson from a very fair boxer into a good one--good, but nothing
+super-excellent."
+
+"Then who's been lying low all this time?"
+
+"Acton."
+
+"_Acton?_" said I, in utter astonishment. "Why, didn't our dear Theodore
+dress him down once for losing his temper in the gym?"
+
+"He did, my boy, and Acton repaid the compliment to-night--with
+interest. He opened our eyes for us. I'm telling the bare truth when I
+say that he simply played with Theodore, and at the third round he as
+good as knocked him out."
+
+I stared into the fire for a minute or two, thinking out this news.
+
+"Eureka!" said I. "I've found it!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"The reason Acton crops up here. He cannot forget an injury. Hodgson
+humbled him once, and so Acton must needs take away from Theodore his
+own peculiar pet ambition, which is to represent St. Amory's at
+Aldershot in the Heavy."
+
+"I wish," said Phil, gloomily, "Biffen's Beauty's schemes always worked
+out so well for the school's honour. He'll represent St. Amory's without
+a doubt."
+
+"Is he so very good, then?"
+
+"Super-excellent, old fellow! Prodigious!" said Phil, with genuine
+admiration. "We'll all sleep with both ears on the pillow when the
+telegram comes from Aldershot. Such a left! He has a swinging, curly
+stroke which he uses after an artful little feint which would win the
+final by itself. Hodgson really seemed trying to catch quick-silver when
+he tried to get home on Acton. Where did Acton learn all this? The
+sergeant hasn't got that artful mis-hit in his bag of tricks."
+
+"Don't speculate on Acton's doings or where he picks up what he knows.
+It's too intricate."
+
+"What a pity one can't go and shake his hand as one would like to do. He
+is a marvel--this dark horse," said Phil, with genuine regret, as always
+when speaking of Acton.
+
+"Our _bête noir_," said I, without winking.
+
+"You heathen," said Phil, laughing. "That was almost a pun. But I'm
+afraid I'm a bit selfish in my joy about Acton. Since he's a certainty,
+I can devote all my mighty mind to rackets. I don't think there is a
+better pair in the place than Vercoe and self at present."
+
+"Oh, thou modest one!"
+
+"'Toby' always finishes up 'When you and Mr. Vercoe goes to Queen's
+Club, Mr. Bourne, I advise you, etc.' So, 'Toby' evidently has no doubt
+who's to go there."
+
+"Toby" Tucker was our racket professional, and when he spotted a pair
+for the public-school rackets, Fenton, the master who finally chose the
+pair, never said "Nay." "Toby" was incorruptible. With both his little
+eyes fixed inexorably on merit, the greatest joys of his life were
+consummated when the St. Amory's pair brought the championship home.
+
+"Congratulate you, old man. If Acton pulls off the Aldershot and you and
+Vercoe the rackets--"
+
+"If I only felt as confident on our lifting that as I do of Acton
+bringing off his, I'd go straightway and smother 'Toby.' He almost works
+one to death."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+HOW THEY "'ELPED THE PORE FELLER"
+
+
+As a rule, the laboratory was empty on half-holidays, and Gus used to
+work through his tables in solitude, when he tried a little
+"bottle-washing" as a change from the refereeing, but one afternoon he
+found no less a person than W.E. Grim, the prize fag of Biffen's, doing
+something very seriously with a green powder.
+
+"Hullo, young 'un! What are you footling round here for?"
+
+"Lancaster has given me this salt to analyze, Todd. I think there's
+copper in it."
+
+"What have you been up to, that Lancaster has run you in? Half-holiday,
+too!"
+
+"He hasn't run me in," said Grim, sulkily. "As a special favour he's let
+me come in here to work a little myself. I did a ripping chemistry paper
+last week, and--"
+
+"Oh, I see. Are _you_ going to give Biffen's another leg up, too?"
+
+"Just as soon as you give Taylor's one," said Grim, who, in common with
+all the juniors, did not fear the easy-going Todd.
+
+"No cheek!" said Gus. "If I mixed up coal-dust and brick-dust, how'd
+you separate 'em?"
+
+"Ask my grandmother for a telescope, and look out the mix through the
+butt end."
+
+"Quite so," said Todd, chuckling. "I suppose you've given me a specimen
+of Biffen's latest brand of wit. Well, don't make too big a row in
+hunting for your copper, and then I'll not chuck you out."
+
+Grim murmured something disparaging Todd's authority for chucking out,
+but Gus languidly sidled off to his own particular bench, where, out of
+sight of Grim, he prepared to do an afternoon's quiet work.
+
+Meanwhile Grim's particular cronies, Wilson, Rogers, Sharpe, Poulett,
+and young Bourne, arrayed in all the glory of mud-stained footer-togs,
+after vainly waiting outside Biffen's, were seeking high and low for the
+copper-hunting chemist, who, for many reasons, had kept his afternoon's
+plan very dark. He knew only too well that his beloved chums would not
+hear of an afternoon's work, and would head him off either to footer or
+a run round the Bender. Therefore, immediately after dinner, he had made
+an unostentatious exit, and reached the laboratory in safety.
+
+"Where _is_ Grimmy?" said Sharpe.
+
+"Dunno," said Wilson.
+
+"Did he know of our six-a-side against Merishall's lot?"
+
+"Rather! Said he hoped we'd win."
+
+"_We!_ Why, is he backing out, then?"
+
+"Well, we've waited for him half an hour, and there's no sign of him
+yet--look's like it."
+
+"What is up with him, I wonder?" said Poulett.
+
+"Seemed rather mysterious this morning--rather stand-offish to my idea.
+Perhaps, though, he's only guzzling buns or swilling coffee somewhere.
+Let's see."
+
+The quintette thereupon spread themselves out, but every shop was drawn
+blank.
+
+"Rum!" said Rogers. "Where can the ass be?"
+
+"If we knew, Solomon, would we try to find out?" said Sharpe.
+
+"I say, you fellows--I've got an idea about Grimmy. Didn't Lancaster
+give him a leg-up for his chemistry the other day? Permission to footle
+in the lab. on half-holidays, and all the rest of it? Grim was no end
+cocky over that."
+
+"Grimmy waste a 'halfer' bottle-washing! Rot! That isn't his form,
+Wilson."
+
+"If," said Poulett, impressively, "he _has_ sunk so low, we must give
+him an 'elpin' 'and, pore feller!"
+
+"Rather. If Lancaster has put the cover over old Grimmy we must get him
+out somehow. Let's adjourn to see."
+
+The honourable five forthwith moved over to the laboratory, and Grim
+received his beloved cronies with hot blushes and a rather nervous
+manner.
+
+"I say, you chaps, what do you want?"
+
+"What did we want?" said Bourne, as though he'd forgotten it. "What was
+it, Rogers?"
+
+"A fellow, formerly Grimmy, not a nasty bottle-washer," said Rogers,
+more in sorrow than in anger.
+
+"But yesterday and Grimmy was an average back, and now he's holding up
+some filthy brew to the sunlight to see how muddy it is. Oh, my great
+aunt!" chimed in Wilson.
+
+"How are the mighty fallen!" gasped Sharpe.
+
+"Look here, you fellows--" began Grim, with still more vivid blushes
+mantling his noble face.
+
+"'Ear, 'ear! speech! speech! withdraw! apologize!"
+
+"I'm not ashamed of being here and doing a little chemistry for my own
+amusement, so there; and you fellows had better cut before Lancaster
+comes and runs you all in."
+
+"That is all right, Grimmy. Lancaster's sporting a silk tile, so he's
+off to town. To think of your cutting our six-a-side to puff down a
+dirty blow-pipe! Come out, you idiot, and get into your footer togs!"
+said Sharpe.
+
+"I'm not coming, I tell you."
+
+"Insanity in the family, evidently," observed Poulett, judicially.
+
+"Aren't you coming, really?"
+
+"No, I'm not; do get out and leave me alone!"
+
+"Never!" said Poulett. "We'll stay with him and see him through the fit,
+eh?"
+
+"Rather! We'll never desert you, Grimmy!"
+
+"We'll let the six-a-side slide for this afternoon, and we'll help
+Grimmy with his salt," suggested the egg-poacher, brilliantly; and any
+amount of hidden meaning was in the word "help."
+
+"We will! we will!" cried the rest, spotting Poulett's idea instanter,
+with enthusiastic joy; and despite Grim's frenzied declamation and
+eloquence they all "helped."
+
+For two hours--as lively a couple of hours as ever were passed within
+the laboratory--Gus lay low behind the far bench and enjoyed the
+afternoon's performance far more than Grim. The green powder underwent
+some weird experiments, each of the quintette availing himself of Grim's
+knowledge and test-tubes and acid-bottles with the utmost freedom. The
+analysis of Lancaster's mixture gave various results, but when Rogers
+"found" rhubarb and black-lead this was held the correct find, and after
+this verdict the generous five put up the test-tubes in the rack. They
+all said Rogers had settled the matter, and anyway they had had a jolly
+time.
+
+"Understand," observed Poulett, as he washed away some acid stains from
+his bare knees, "that Grimmy is not ashamed of his black-lead and
+rhubarb hunt."
+
+"Why those vivid blushes, then?"
+
+"We never bargained that old Grim would copy that Fifth Form ass, Todd,
+and chum up with Lancaster, did we?"
+
+"What did you say about Todd?" inquired Grim, suavely.
+
+"Said he was an ass."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"An ass, a jackass, a howling jackass!" cried Poulett, _crescendo_.
+
+"How?"
+
+"Remember Corker pitching into him? Said he wasn't fit for a decent
+nursery, and Toddy had his mouth open all the time."
+
+[Illustration: THE GREEN POWDER UNDERWENT SOME WEIRD EXPERIMENTS]
+
+"Bully Cotton has given Toddy up. Toddy was too big an ass even for
+Cotton," remarked Wilson.
+
+"He looks fairly intelligent," observed Grim, in a gentle whisper.
+
+"So did you, almost, till you started fooling like this."
+
+Grim artistically kept the conversation on Todd, and Gus learned how
+like an ass each individual of the quintette thought him. He smiled
+gently at Grim's astuteness in paying him out so neatly for his previous
+friendly remarks about chucking out. When the first stroke of the
+roll-call bell reached the laboratory he emerged solemnly and with state
+from his retreat, and stalked quietly through the knot of his outspoken
+critics, who were instantly besieged by a variety of emotions. He closed
+the laboratory door after him, and, when he saw the key outside, the
+temptation to repay the left-handed compliments of Poulett and Co. in
+their own coin was too strong. Gus gently turned the key, and was
+halfway down the corridor before the band arrived at the locked door.
+
+"Let us out!" shrieked Rogers. "We'll apologize all of us--won't we,
+Poulett?"
+
+"Yes!" yelled Poulett. "Anything! Oh, Todd, do let us out!"
+
+But Todd went on his way, serenely ignoring the frantic appeals behind
+him, and turned out into the street with a sweet smile on his face.
+
+"That beast, Todd, has gone, and Merishall will ladle us out three
+hundred of Virgil for missing call-over," moaned Bourne.
+
+"It's four hundred, if Merishall takes it," said Rogers, with dire
+conviction.
+
+"Not for me," said Grim, beaming cheerfully around; "I'm all right. I'll
+tell Merishall that the door was locked; but as for you five idiots, who
+oughtn't to be here at all--well! What the dickens did you want to call
+old Toddy all those fancy names for, you silly cuckoos?"
+
+"Oh, look here, Grim, you artful bounder," shouted Poulett, bitterly,
+"you've got us into this mess. Why didn't you say Todd was behind those
+back benches?"
+
+"Yes, why?" shouted the rest of the raging fags. "We'll scrag you for
+this, darling. Cuckoos are we? Scrag him--put him in the scrum."
+
+W.E. Grim had a very bad five minutes, but when he crawled out of the
+scrum, hot, damaged, and dusty, he said viciously--
+
+"I hope Merishall gives you a thou., you beastly cads. You've mucked up
+my afternoon, and I'm hanged if I don't tell Lancaster."
+
+Ten minutes after roll-call the janitor let them out, and shortly
+afterwards a wretched procession of five emerged from Merishall's room
+with two hundred lines from Virgil hanging over each head for a missed
+call-over without excuse. Grim worked an artistic revenge on his
+scrummagers by calling personally the next half-holiday to inquire if
+they would prefer to analyze a green salt or to play a six-a-side
+against Merishall's lot. In every instance a Virgil hurtled towards his
+head. Having done his duty to his friends, he left them to pious Æneas
+and the slope of Avernus, whilst he got another salt from the
+science-master, and, with Gus, possessed the laboratory in peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+ACTON'S TRUMP CARD
+
+
+On the Saturday before we should go home Acton was due at Aldershot, and
+would return the same night, as the fellows hoped, with his laurels
+thick upon him. Bourne and Vercoe were staying at school a week later
+than we, for the rackets did not come off until our holidays had
+commenced. Toby had begged for this almost with tears in his eyes, for
+he had a mortal dread of the relaxing process of a week at home.
+
+"You'd have no 'ands, Mr. Bourne, no spring, no eyes, when you toed the
+mark at Kensington. I'll send you fit if I have you here."
+
+So Vercoe and Phil agreed to stay.
+
+And now Acton determined to put into operation his long-thought-of
+scheme for the paying off of the score against Phil. It was subtle, and
+founded on a perfect knowledge of Bourne's character, and a perfect
+disregard of the consequences to any one--even including himself. Acton
+would have willingly martyred himself, if he could have inflicted a
+little of the torments on Bourne too.
+
+There was one rule from which Dr. Moore never swerved a hair's breadth.
+Compared to this particular law the stringency of the Old Game
+regulation for Thursday was lax indeed. He never had departed from it,
+and he never would depart from it. If any fellow took it into his head
+to slip out of his house after lights out at ten on any pretence
+whatever he was expelled. There was some legend in connection with this
+severity, what exactly none of us rightly knew, but according to the
+tale the escapade of two fellows years ago, when Corker was new to the
+place, had resulted in one of the fellows being shot. Twice had he
+expelled fellows while I was at school--Remington and Cunningham--and I
+cannot ever forget the old man's deathlike face as he told them to go.
+Some fellows broke out and were not found out, for Corker wasn't going
+to have any barred windows as in some places. Any one _could_ break out
+any night he liked, but he knew what he might expect if he were caught.
+There was no help. Remington had been found out, and though there had
+been Remingtons in the school since Anne's reign, Corker was inexorable.
+He was expelled.
+
+In a word, Acton determined to go to London and to take young Bourne
+with him, and so risk certain expulsion for both, supposing they were
+discovered. He had no intention of being expelled, though; for he liked
+the life at St. Amory's, where incense floated round him all day long,
+but he meant, when he had accomplished the ruin of Jack, to let Bourne
+senior know it. Acton gloated in advance over Phil's anger, shame, and
+consternation, and--this was the cream of the joke--his utter inability
+to do anything except keep silence and chew the bitter cud of hopeless
+rage against him--the man to whom he would not give the footer cap.
+Acton never thought of Jack's share in the matter at all, and yet he was
+genuinely fond of him; all he thought of was what would be Philip's
+hopeless rage.
+
+Phil, of course, could say nothing to Corker, for he knew it would be
+hopeless. And Acton knew that Phil's pride could never bear the idea of
+Jack--a Bourne--being expelled from the old place. Therefore he would
+keep silence. I don't think I used the wrong adjective when I said it
+was subtle. The only question was--could he so manage that Jack would
+go? And Acton for good reasons was pretty certain that he could.
+
+Jack was staidly taking a turn up and down the pavement with Grim when,
+on passing by Biffen's house, he heard a whistle from one of the
+windows, and, on looking up, he saw Acton.
+
+"I want you, Bourne, for five minutes--if you can spare them."
+
+"Of course he can," said Grim, _sotto voce_. "Aren't you a monitor?
+Jack, my boy, Acton wants to knight you--or something. You'll find his
+boots in the bottom cupboard, if you want to black 'em very much. I
+suppose, being only a common or garden fag, my feelings aren't to be
+considered for a moment. When you were--for once--talking sensibly for a
+Corker fag, you are called away to----"
+
+"Cork all that frivol, old man, till you see me at tea," said Jack,
+moving into Biffen's yard.
+
+When Jack was comfortably installed in a chair, Acton bolted his door,
+and, somewhat to young Bourne's surprise, seemed rather in a fix how to
+start what he had to say. The locking of the door was unusual, and this,
+combined with Acton's grave face and hesitating manner, made Jack a
+trifle uneasy. Whatever was coming?
+
+"I say, Bourne," at last said his friend, "do you know anything about
+betting?"
+
+"Betting!" said Jack, with a vivid blush. "About as much as most of the
+fellows know of it. Not more."
+
+"Well, do you mind reading this?" He handed Jack a slip of paper which
+contained such cryptic sentences as: "Grape Shot gone wrong, though he
+will run. Pocket Book is the tip. If you're on Grape Shot, hedge on best
+terms you can get," etc.
+
+"I understand that," said Jack, "you've--if this means you--you've
+backed the wrong horse."
+
+"Exactly," said Acton. "I backed Grape Shot for the Lincolnshire
+Handicap, and he hasn't a ghost of a chance now. Gone wrong."
+
+"I see," said Jack, absolutely staggered that Acton, a monitor, should
+tell him, a fag, that he was betting on horse-racing.
+
+"I see, young 'un, that you seem surprised at my little flutter, but, by
+Jove! this will have to be my last. Do you know, Bourne, I'm in an awful
+hole."
+
+"I'm very sorry to hear it," said Jack, with no end of concern.
+
+"You see, if Pocket Book pulls the handicap off before I've time to trim
+my sails, I lose a lot."
+
+"Much," said Jack, "_for you?_"
+
+"Thirty pounds."
+
+"Whew!" whistled Bourne.
+
+"I get a good allowance from home, Bourne, but I'm bound to say thirty
+pounds would cripple me."
+
+"Rather," said Jack, with a gasp.
+
+"Of course, if the worst did come to the worst, I'd have to apply to
+home; but there would be, as you might guess, no end of a row about it."
+
+"Then you must hedge," said Jack.
+
+"That is it, exactly. I must back Pocket Book for first place. This is a
+sure tip--I can depend upon it."
+
+"Then send to the fellow you bet with, and let him put you on Pocket
+Book."
+
+"That is just it, Jack--the bookmaker wouldn't take a bet from me."
+
+"Why ever not?" said Jack, mystified.
+
+"Because I'm a minor--I'm under age."
+
+"Then how do you manage?" said Jack.
+
+"Why, I bet through another man."
+
+"I see," said Jack, for this was but another edition of his own little
+adventures. "And that man----"
+
+"Is Raffles," said Acton, quietly.
+
+Jack bounced out of his chair as if he had been stung. "That beast!" he
+gasped.
+
+"Raffles?" said Acton, with a slow smile. "I didn't know he was a
+beast."
+
+"He is the meanest skunk alive," said Jack. He added fervently, "Acton,
+have no dealings with that fellow. He is an abominable sharper."
+
+"Thanks," said Acton, with a slight grimace at Jack's advice. "But, all
+the same, I have to deal through Raffles."
+
+"Then write to the fellow."
+
+"I don't know--I've forgotten his address."
+
+"Well, I'm hanged if I understand it!" said Jack, lost in astonishment.
+"If you don't know it, and your bookmaker will only bet through Raffles,
+you are in a hole--a marvellously deep one."
+
+"There's only one way out--find Raffles."
+
+"And that you can't do."
+
+"And that I think I can do by going to London."
+
+"Well, we're off for the holidays on Tuesday, and you can find Raffles
+then."
+
+"I should be hopelessly too late if I waited till then. It would be
+almost ruinous to be put on to Pocket Book in a day's time. I must hedge
+to-night."
+
+"To-night?" said Jack, in a complete fog. "And you haven't found
+Raffles!"
+
+"No, but I think I know where to find him to-night. You know the Coon is
+having a match with the Battersea Beauty at the Universal Sporting Club,
+and Raffles is pretty sure to be there, and I must see him then."
+
+"But that means going to London, Acton."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And Corker would expel you--even you."
+
+"Without a doubt--if he finds out."
+
+"There's a chance that he may."
+
+"Certainly, but it's a mighty slender one, and in any case I mean to--I
+_must_--risk it."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry for you."
+
+"Now, Jack, I want you to listen to me," said Acton, very gravely, and
+his voice showed his genuine anxiety. "The Coon's match does not
+commence until eleven o'clock at night, because an awful lot of the
+Universal Sporters are actors and they cannot get away before that time
+at earliest. Now, there are two entrances for the members into the club,
+one in Pelican Street and the other in Ridge Street. Raffles must enter
+by one or the other, and there must be some one at each doorway to give
+him my note. I can take the one, and the question is--who will take the
+second doorway?"
+
+"Not I, Acton," said Jack, in a blue funk. "Please, Acton, don't ask
+me."
+
+"Jack, believe me, you were the last person I wanted to ask. I would
+have asked Worcester or Chalmers if it had been any good, but they would
+not know Raffles from Adam. It is ten thousand pities, but you are the
+only fellow who knows Raffles here. No one else has ever set eyes on
+him."
+
+"Acton, it means expulsion," said Jack, hoarsely.
+
+"Certainly for me if I'm caught, but, of course, I've no idea of being
+caught. Jack, I'm not going to ask you to come with me. I shall think no
+worse of you if you say you won't come, and I cannot take advantage
+over you to force you against your own wish, because I lent you money.
+Don't think so meanly of me."
+
+"Acton," said Jack, sweating drops of terror, "it _is_ expulsion if
+we're caught."
+
+"Jack," said Acton, "have you ever known me to fail yet in anything I
+undertake?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, I _will_ not fail here. If you like I'll give you my word of
+honour we shall not be caught, and, if by a miracle of ill-luck we
+should be, I shall see you through. I'll take every iota of blame on my
+own shoulders. You'll find yourself captain of the school one day yet."
+
+"If I were expelled, Acton," said Jack, with intense conviction, "the
+pater would kill me first, and die himself afterwards; and as for
+Phil----"
+
+"Jack," said Acton, "I must see the business through myself. You can't
+do it, I see. I must lose the £30."
+
+Jack got up and walked up and down the room in agony.
+
+For five minutes Acton watched his wretched prey torn to pieces by his
+conflicting fears--his shame of leaving Acton in the lurch, and his
+dread of discovery.
+
+"Acton," said Jack at length, "I can't leave you in the lurch. I'll go
+with you to London."
+
+Acton clasped Jack's hand, and said, "Jack, you are a brick. I can only
+say I thank you." He had landed his fish, as he knew he would.
+
+Half an hour afterwards Jack said, almost cheerfully, for Acton had
+been doing his best to smooth poor Bourne's ruffled feathers--
+
+"But how are we to go to town?"
+
+"I've got a plan," said Acton; "but I must turn it over in my mind
+first. If you'll look in, young 'un, after tea, I'll tell you how we do
+it. I'm going to see about it now. Once again, Jack, I thank you. You do
+stand by a fellow when he's down on his luck."
+
+Acton and Jack went out--the monitor to make arrangements for the
+escapade, and Jack to Grim's quarters, where he was due for tea, which
+he demolished with comparative cheerfulness, for Jack's confidence in
+Acton was illimitable. After he had taken the jump he was not--is not
+now--the kind of boy to look back.
+
+At six young Bourne left his friend Grim among a waste of empty teacups,
+plates, and jam-pots, and went to Acton's room.
+
+"I've arranged all," said that worthy. "I've seen the proprietor of the
+hotel down at Bring, and he's going to have a smart dog-cart and a
+smarter horse to do the dozen miles between here and Charing Cross ready
+for us at nine. He says we shall be rattled into town within the hour.
+So if we aren't in time to spot Raffles we are down on our luck with a
+vengeance. Your room is on the ground floor, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes," said Jack, "overlooking Corker's flowerbeds."
+
+"Well, pull up the window after supper as quietly as you can, and slip
+into the garden. Then scoot through the field, and you'll find me
+waiting for you in the hotel stables. You can pass the word to your
+chums in Corker's that you aren't going to be on show after supper, and
+then they won't be routing you out."
+
+"My chums are mostly in Biffen's," said Jack. "Grim and Rogers, etc."
+
+"Good omen," said Acton. "Leave your window so that you can easily shove
+it up when you come back, and leave your school cap behind, and bring a
+tweed instead. Got such an article?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How's your room lighted?"
+
+"Oh, we have the electric. It is switched off at ten, so that the light
+will not give any trouble, Acton."
+
+"Well, bolt your door, too. It seems as though the fates were fighting
+for us, eh, young 'un?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+LONDON AND BACK
+
+
+At nine that night the two, as agreed upon, met at Dring in the hotel
+stables. There had been no mishaps.
+
+The groom was busy putting the horse into the trap, and, when Jack saw
+what a really smart turn-out Acton had engaged, his fears began to
+occupy less of his thoughts and the pleasures of a rattling hour's spin
+a jolly lot more. Punctually to the minute Jack climbed up beside the
+driver, the place of honour, and Acton swung himself up behind; the yard
+doors were flung open, and the gig rattled smartly out. The hotel
+proprietor had not chanted the praises of his horse in vain. On the
+level road it laid itself out to go for all it was worth.
+
+The pleasant music of the jingling harness and the scurrying of the
+wheels made as jolly a tune as Jack could wish to hear. There was a
+touch of frost in the air, which made the quick motion of the gig bite
+shrewdly on his cheeks, and made him button up his overcoat to the chin
+and settle his cap well over his ears. Acton threw out jokes, too, from
+behind, which made Jack feel no end clever to listen to them, and the
+driver now and then restrained his horse's "freshness" with the soothing
+mellow whistle which only drivers possess. The farmhouses, hayricks, and
+an occasional village, drifted past now to the right, now to the left,
+and occasionally they overhauled a leisurely belated cyclist, who at
+once began to take an unimportant position in the rear, his lamp growing
+less and less down the stretch of long white road.
+
+Soon the houses began to come more frequently, then came the streets
+with their long avenues of yellow lights, and within the hour they were
+rolling smoothly over the wooden pavements.
+
+"Piccadilly," said Acton. "Drop us at the top of Whitehall, will you?
+Then you can take the horse to the mews. Be ready for us outside
+Frascati's by twelve. Understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir, at Frascati's by twelve! I know the place." A minute or two
+later the two swung off in Trafalgar Square, and the driver rattled away
+into the crowd.
+
+Jack was delighted. "Spiffing run, Acton, eh?"
+
+"Glad you liked it, young 'un. Now let us localize the Universal
+Sporting Club. I know it's about Covent Garden somewhere." Together they
+went up the crowded Strand, Jack enjoying every minute of the bustling
+walk to the Garden and imagining that he was a very much daring young
+desperado to be so far from his little white bunk at St. Amory's. He
+would have been usually fast asleep by this time.
+
+The Universal Sporting Club was not a difficult place to find, and
+though all its windows were lighted up, upon its fast shut doors were
+two little notices: "This door will be open at 11 p.m. None but members
+and friends admitted."
+
+"Well," said Acton, "we've got about twenty minutes before there's any
+particular need to begin our watch for Raffles, but some of the members
+are hanging round now. The early birds get the best perch for the show.
+On the whole, perhaps you'd better prowl about this door now, whilst I
+go round the corner and see if I can run our fox to his earth."
+
+"All serene," said Jack. "I'll mark time out here till I see you."
+
+Acton walked round the corner, and Jack perambulated about, peering into
+the faces of the idlers to see if he could spot the well-known and
+much-detested face of Raffles. He had (of course) no luck.
+
+Five minutes afterwards Acton came back smiling. "Almost first fellow I
+ran against was Raffles, and I've given him his instructions. He'll
+hedge for me with the bookie within five minutes."
+
+"So you're quite safe now, Acton?" said Jack, beaming.
+
+"Oh, quite," said Acton, laughing. "Now, Jack, you've been no end
+brickish, and I'm going to treat you. Ever seen a ballet?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, you shall."
+
+A hansom flitted slowly up to them, and Acton hailed it. "In you get,
+Jack. Kingdom!" said Acton to the cabby. They glided noiselessly
+through the lighted streets, and in a minute or so were before the
+"Kingdom Theatre." The two hurried up the steps, and Acton asked an
+attendant if the ballet were rung up yet.
+
+"No, sir. Two stalls, sir? Certainly. Twelve and thirteen are vacant."
+
+Jack had never seen a ballet before, and when the gorgeous ballet
+"Katrina" slowly passed before his eyes, and he followed the simple
+story which was almost interpreted by the lovely music, when every fresh
+scene seemed lovelier than all the rest, and fairyland was realized
+before his eyes, his face beamed with pleasure.
+
+"This _is_ ripping, Acton. Isn't Katrina lovely? Jove! I'd hunt for
+Raffles every blessed night if there was a 'Kingdom' to finish up with!"
+
+His enthusiasm amused Acton.
+
+"It is very pretty, Jack, certainly."
+
+For nearly an hour did Jack sit entranced, and when the orchestra
+crashed out the last floods of melody in the _finale_, and when most of
+the audience rose to go, he trotted out with Acton in a dream.
+
+"We'll have a little supper at Frascati's, young 'un, and then home."
+
+Frascati's completed the enchantment of Bourne. The beauty of the
+supper-room, the glitter of snowy linen, of mirrors, and the inviting
+crash of knives, and the clink of glasses, the busy orderliness of the
+waiters, the laughter, chatter of the visitors, the scents, the sights
+and sounds, fascinated him. Acton ordered a modest little supper, and
+when Jack had finally pushed away his plate Acton paid the bill, and
+went out to find the driver. He was there, the horse almost waltzing
+with impatience to be off. The two swung themselves up, and in another
+minute they were whirling along back to St. Amory's.
+
+The St. Amory's clock could be heard striking the half hour after one
+when Jack and Acton parted at the corner of Corker's garden.
+
+"Jack," said Acton, "good night! and you need not trouble about the £7.
+You've done more for me than that, and I shall not forget it."
+
+Jack, almost weeping with gratitude, said, "Good night, Acton!" in a
+fervent whisper, and scuttled over Corker's flower-beds. He pushed up
+his window and crawled through, and, seeing that all was as he had left
+it after supper, he undressed and jumped into bed, and in a few minutes
+slept the sleep of the just.
+
+Acton had managed his re-entrance just as successfully--did he ever
+fail?--and the thought of Bourne's hopeless rage, when he should find
+out about Jack's escapade, made him sleep the sleep of the happy man. He
+was made that way.
+
+[Illustration: HE PUSHED UP HIS WINDOW AND CRAWLED THROUGH.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE PENFOLD TABLET FUND
+
+
+The Easter term had been one of unadulterated discomfort for Jim Cotton.
+He had felt the loss of Gus's helping hand terribly, and he had not yet
+found another ass to "devil" for him in the way of classics or
+mathematics. Philips, a former understudy to Gus, was called upon, but
+with unsatisfactory results, and Cotton, _mirabile dictu_, was compelled
+in sheer desperation to try to do his own work. Frankly, the Fifth of
+St. Amory's was beyond Jim's very small attainments, classical or
+otherwise. He had been hoisted up to that serene height by no means
+_honoris causa_, but _aetatis causa_. Jim was verging on six feet, and
+he filled his clothes very well into the bargain, and though his
+scholarship was strictly junior school, the spectacle of Jim in Fourth
+Form Etons would have been too entrancing a sight for daily
+contemplation. Hence he had got his remove. Thrown over by Gus, unable
+to discover a second jackal for the term so far, he had been left to the
+tender mercy of Corker, Merishall and Co., and Jim was inclined to think
+that they showed no quarter to a fallen foe. Corker had been distilled
+venom on the particular morning with which this chapter deals on the
+subject of Jim's Greek. Herodotus, as translated by Jim with the help of
+a well-thumbed Bohn's crib, had emerged as a most unalluring mess of
+pottage, and Dr. Moore had picked out Bohn's plums from Jim's paste with
+unerring accuracy. Whilst Cotton was wishing the roof would fall down on
+Corker's head and kill him, the other fellows in the Fifth were enjoying
+the fun. Gus Todd, though, felt for his old friend more than a touch of
+pity, and when old Corker left Jim alone finally, Gus very cleverly kept
+his attention away from Jim's quarter. When Corker finally drew his toga
+around him and hurried out, Jim Cotton gathered together his own books
+and lounged heavily into the street, sick of school, books, Corker, and
+hating Gus with a mighty sullen hate. For Jim had remarked Gus's
+sprightliness in the Greek ordeal, but was not clever enough to see that
+Gus's performance had been only for old friendship's sake. Jim, however,
+put down Todd's device as mere "side," "show-off," "toadyism," and other
+choice things, all trotted out specially for his eyes. When he reached
+his room he flung his Herodotus into the nearest chair, and himself into
+the most comfortable one, and then beat a vicious serenade on his
+firegrate with the poker until dinner time.
+
+In the evening, while Jim was moodily planted before a small pile of
+books, he received a visitor, no less a personage than Philips, Jim's
+occasional hack.
+
+"Well," said Jim, surlily, "what do you want?"
+
+"I'll tell you in a minute, old boy. Can I have a chair?"
+
+"Can't you see I'm busy?" said Cotton, unamiably.
+
+"You look like it, more or less, certainly."
+
+"Well, I've no time for any oratory to-night, Philips, and that is all
+about it."
+
+"I'll give you a leg-up for Merishall in the morning if you're decently
+civil."
+
+"All right, then," said Jim, thawing instantly. "What's the matter?"
+
+"Ever heard of Penfold?"
+
+"No; what was the animal?"
+
+"Well, he was the brightest and most particular star that Taylor ever
+had in his house; that is, until you pitched your tent among us."
+
+"Don't rot, Philips. What has the Penfold done?"
+
+"Made a chemical discovery which stamps him as one of the first
+half-dozen chemists in the world."
+
+"Oh," said Jim, wearily; "most interestin', very."
+
+"Here only ten years ago, and, 'pon honour, this was his very den."
+
+"Have noticed the place to be stuffy," said Jim, with no enthusiasm,
+"and now that is explained. Suppose he lived with his nose in books and
+test-tubes?"
+
+"And," said Philips, ignoring Jim's heavy wit, "the Fifth and Sixth Form
+fellows in Taylor's think we ought to take notice of it somehow."
+
+"Now, I wouldn't," said Cotton, critically; "I'd keep a thing like that
+dark."
+
+"You heathen!"
+
+"If he'd pulled stroke at Cambridge, or anything like that----"
+
+"We thought a tablet on the wall, or something of that sort, would meet
+the case. Corker's dining-hall is lined with 'em."
+
+"Get to the point," said Jim, grimly.
+
+"A sub. of five shillings among seniors, and half a crown among the
+kids, would meet the case, I think."
+
+"And did you think I'd spring a crown for a marble tablet to a mug like
+Penfold?"
+
+"Rather," said Philips.
+
+"Well," said Jim, "life would be worth living here if it weren't for the
+unearthly smugging, but as it is St. Amory's is about as lively as a
+workhouse. I'm not forking out on this occasion. Taylor's smugs must do
+all that is necessary to be done."
+
+"Well," said Philips, "all the other fellows have given in their names,
+bar you and Todd."
+
+"Oh!" said Jim, with sudden interest, "you've asked Todd, have you?"
+
+"Of course. Gus seemed rather waxy that he should be called upon. One
+might almost fancy he hadn't got the five shillings."
+
+"Todd evidently is a miserable miser," said Jim, with a bitter smile at
+the thought of Gus's insolvent condition. "He isn't the same fellow he
+used to be."
+
+"Jove, no!" said Philips; "he's come on no end this term. He's an
+improvement on the old Gus."
+
+"Yes," said Jim, angrily; "the beaks have got him into their nets. But
+he ought to subscribe to the Penfold, when he's the biggest smug in
+Taylor's."
+
+"And you ought too, Jim, since you've the biggest money-bags."
+
+"All right," said Jim, "I'll subscribe. 'Twill look better if we all
+subscribe."
+
+"You're a funny ass, Cotton. I thought I was going to draw you blank.
+What's the reason for your sudden change of mind?"
+
+"I don't want to be bracketed equal with Toddy."
+
+"That's settled, then," said Philips, who was puzzled at Jim's sudden
+change of front. "And now let's see to Merishall's work for the
+morning."
+
+The subscriptions for a tablet in the great Penfold's honour were not
+hard to obtain, the upper form fellows in Taylor's dunning the rest of
+the house without mercy, and, to the great wonder of all, the foremost
+of the duns was James Cotton, Esq. The way he squeezed half-crowns out
+of the fags was reckoned little short of marvellous, and before the week
+was out every Taylor fellow had subscribed bar Gus. Jim's exertions were
+rewarded by the office of secretary to the Penfold Fund.
+
+"We'll get a house list, Philips, and pin up a proper subscription list
+on the notice-board. The thing will look more ship-shape then. By the
+way, what was it the Penfold did? Is he dead?"
+
+"You are a funny fellow, Cotton. Here you are sweating the half-crowns
+out of the fags and you don't know why you're doing it."
+
+"That is just what I do know," said Jim, smiling serenely.
+
+When the list was pinned up on the board, and opposite each fellow's
+name appeared the half-crown or crown he had contributed, it made a
+brave show. Towards the end of the list opposite the name of Todd,
+A.V.R., there had occurred a dismal blank thoughtfully filled by
+secretary Cotton with a couple of beautifully even lines ruled in
+staring red ink. This vivid dash of colour on the white paper gave poor
+Gus quite an unsolicited advertisement, and since none of the other
+fellows knew of Gus's circumstances, it practically put him in the
+pillory as a tight-fisted old screw. This result was exactly what Jim
+Cotton had in his mind when he fell in with the tablet scheme so
+enthusiastically. Pretty mean, wasn't it?
+
+When Gus saw the staring red abomination for the first time it made him
+feel that he would like to pour a little boiling oil over the secretary
+of the fund, for to a fellow of Gus's temperament the chaffing remarks
+of his acquaintances and the knowing looks of the juniors made him
+shiver with righteous anger. He did not like being pilloried. He had
+desperate thoughts of going and publicly kicking Cotton, but he
+remembered, fortunately, that Jim would probably only make one mouthful
+of him. But he paced his room angrily, and except that he really meant
+to keep himself to his resolution of honourable poverty to the term's
+end he would have written home. Not to do so cost him a struggle.
+
+There was some one else who eyed this plain manifesto of Gus's position
+with anger, and that was the Rev. E. Taylor himself. The house-master
+had not been a house-master for years for nothing, and he guessed pretty
+shrewdly that some one was writing off a debt with interest against Gus.
+The house-master made a still shrewder guess as to who this might be,
+for he had watched the dissolution of the partnership of Cotton and Todd
+with great interest.
+
+Thus it was that Philips was called into Taylor's room for a quiet
+little chat on house matters. "Your idea of a memento to Penfold was an
+excellent one, Philips, and the house seems to have taken it up very
+heartily."
+
+"Oh yes!" said Philips, naïvely. "The fellows have taken any amount of
+interest, especially Cotton."
+
+"Cotton's is rather a case of Saul among the prophets, isn't it,
+Philips?"
+
+"This sort of thing didn't quite seem his line before, sir."
+
+"No; I never thought so myself; but it is very pleasant to make a
+mistake, too. I see Todd, who is the best chemist in the house, does not
+subscribe at all."
+
+"Most of the fellows thought it rather strange."
+
+"And said so, no doubt?" said the master, looking abstractedly at his
+finger-nails.
+
+"H'm!" said Philips, feeling uncomfortable at this thrust. "They may
+have."
+
+"You see, Philips," said Taylor, gently, "there ought to have been no
+quizzing of Todd, for a contribution to a matter like this ought to be
+entirely voluntary--most emphatically so, I think. And if Todd does not
+see his way to subscribe--and he is the sole judge--there ought to be no
+remarks whatever."
+
+"I see, sir," said Philips, dubiously.
+
+"I was much annoyed to see that Todd's name has been prominently before
+the house for the last day or so."
+
+"You mean on the notice-board, sir?"
+
+"Yes; I can quite see why it is. The honorary secretary has not had much
+experience in this clerical work before, so he has fallen into a great
+mistake. In fact," said the house-master, bluntly, "the secretary's
+taste is not to be depended on."
+
+"I don't think Cotton meant anything----" began Philips.
+
+"Well, perhaps not," said the Rev. E. Taylor, doubtfully; "but, in any
+case, will you take down the present list, and draw up a fresh one--if
+you think one at all necessary--with only the names of subscribers upon
+it? A house list should not have been used at all. Please tell Cotton I
+said so, and I hope he will see the fairness of it."
+
+Philips took down the offending list, and told Cotton the house-master's
+opinions. Jim Cotton had not very quick feelings, but contempt can
+pierce the shell of a tortoise, and as Philips innocently retailed the
+message, the secretary of the Penfold Tablet Fund knew there was one man
+who held him a cad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+BOURNE _v._ ACTON
+
+
+Jack had gone to London with his patron on Thursday. On Saturday morning
+Acton went to Aldershot, carrying with him the hopes and good wishes of
+the whole of St. Amory's, and at night the school band had met him at
+the station. They (the band) struggled bravely--it was very windy--with
+"See, the Conquering Hero comes!" in front of the returned hero, who was
+"chaired" by frenzied Biffenites. The expected had happened. Acton had
+annihilated Rossal, Shrewsbury, and Harrow, and in the final had met the
+redoubtable Jarvis, from "Henry's holy shade." The delightful news
+circulated round St. Amory's that Acton had "made mincemeat" of Jarvis.
+He had not, but after a close battle had scrambled home first; he had
+won, and that was the main thing.
+
+As Acton walked into chapel on Sunday morning with Worcester, Corker got
+scant attention to his sermon; the fags to a man were thinking of
+Acton's terrible left. The gladiator lived in an atmosphere of incense
+for a whole day.
+
+As Phil Bourne was finishing breakfast on Monday morning his fag
+brought him his letters, and, after reading his usual one from home, he
+turned his attention to another one, whose envelope was dirty, and whose
+writing was laboriously and painfully bad amateur work.
+
+"Rotherhithe," said Phil, looking at the post-mark. "Who are my friends
+from that beauty spot?"
+
+I give the letter in all its fascinating simplicity.
+
+                              "Rotherhithe, Sunday.
+
+"Dear Sir,
+  "I was sory as how I did not see you on thursday night when you
+came with Acting to Covent garden to do a small hedging in the
+linkinsheer handicap. I think since you did a fare settle about the
+gunn and pade up my little bill like a mann you would deserve the show
+at the "Kindumm" and the blow out at that swell tuck shop as Mister
+Acting said he was going to treat you to for coming with him to london.
+I hopes you enjoyed em and As how that stiff necked old corker your
+beak--won't never find out.
+  "As you gave him the Propper slip and no Errer your beastly Chummy
+  "Daniel Raffles."
+
+The letter had evidently been meant for Jack, but had naturally reached
+Phil, since the envelope was directed to "Mr. Bourne."
+
+Bourne, when he had struggled to the end of this literary gem, dropped
+the letter like a red-hot coal. Was it a hoax, or had Jack really gone
+up to town, as the letter said?
+
+The "Mister Acting" made Phil's heart sink with dire forebodings.
+
+"Go and find young Bourne, Hinton, and tell him to come here to my study
+at once, or as soon as he's finished breakfast."
+
+Jack came in whistling a jolly tune; he was in full bloom, for had he
+not now left all his cares behind him?
+
+"You can cut, Hinton; and, Jack, take a chair and give me an explanation
+of this letter."
+
+Jack read Raffles' letter through to the bitter end, and wished he had
+never been born. Phil eyed his young brother, who had turned deathly
+white, with the horrible certainty that Jack had gone up to London.
+
+"Then it's true?" he said.
+
+No answer.
+
+"Jack, I know you could speak the truth once. Look at me. Did you go to
+London on Thursday night?"
+
+"Yes," said Jack, faintly.
+
+"Did Acton take you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You know that if Dr. Moore hears of it he will expel you."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You went to oblige Acton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did you ever think what pater would think if he heard about this?"
+
+[Illustration: "CUT, YOU MISERABLE PUPPY!"]
+
+Jack, as a matter of course, had thought many a time of what his father
+would think about the business, and when Phil in that level voice of his
+recalled him to this terrible point he broke down.
+
+"Phil, do not tell pater; he'd never forgive me! Nor Corker. Cut me into
+ribbons if you like, only don't let me be expelled."
+
+"Here," said Phil, "I don't want any snivelling in my room. Cut, you
+miserable puppy, to your own quarters, and when school is over keep to
+them till I come. You're a contemptible little puppy."
+
+Jack hurried out, crunching Raffles' letter in his fist. He went
+straight to Acton's room, and, bursting in whilst Acton was drinking his
+last cup of coffee, blurted out the dismal news. Jack was almost
+hysterical in his rage against Raffles.
+
+"Acton, I believe that filthy blackmailer meant Phil to get that letter:
+he wanted to round on me and get me into trouble. Oh!" said Jack, in a
+very explosion of futile rage, "if I could only pound his ugly face into
+a jelly."
+
+"Well, perhaps you'll have that pleasure one day, Jack. I hope so,
+anyhow. Now, straight, Jack, you need not be frightened of your brother
+saying a word. He could never risk Corker hearing of it, for he could
+not bear the chance of expulsion, so he'll lie low as far as Corker is
+concerned, take my word for it. He may hand you over to your father, but
+that, too, I doubt. He may give you a thrashing himself, which I fancy
+he will."
+
+"I don't mind that," said Jack. "I deserve something."
+
+"No, you don't, old man; and I'm fearfully sorry that I've got you into
+this hole. But your brother will certainly interview me."
+
+"I suppose so," said Jack, thoughtfully, even in his rage and shame. "I
+hope there is no row between you;" for the idea of an open quarrel
+between Phil and Acton made Jack rather qualmish.
+
+"You'd better cut now, Jack, and lie low till you find out when the
+hurricane is going to commence."
+
+Jack went away, and as the door closed softly behind him Acton smiled
+sweetly.
+
+"Well, Raffles has managed it nicely, and carried out my orders to the
+strokings of the t's. He is quite a genius in a low kind of way. And now
+I'm ready for Philip Bourne, Esq. I bet I'm a sight more comfortable
+than he is." Which was very true.
+
+I, of course, knew nothing of all these occurrences at the time, and the
+first intimation I had that anything was wrong was when Phil Bourne came
+into my room and gave me a plain unvarnished account, _sans_ comment, of
+Acton's and young Bourne's foolery in London.
+
+"I'm awfully glad, old man, that I am able to tell you this, because,
+although you're Captain of the school, you can't do anything, since
+Acton is a monitor."
+
+(It is an unwritten law at St. Amory's that one monitor can never, under
+any circumstances, "peach" upon another.)
+
+"Well, I'm jolly glad too, Bourne, since your brother's in it."
+
+"What has to be done to Acton? Jack, of course, was only a tool in his
+hands."
+
+"Oh, of course. It is perfectly certain that our friend engineered the
+whole business up to and including the letter, which _was_ meant for
+you."
+
+"Do you really think that?" said Phil.
+
+"I'm as certain of it as I can be of anything that I don't actually know
+to be true."
+
+"Why did he do it?"
+
+"Do you feel anything about this, old man?"
+
+"I feel in the bluest funk that I can remember."
+
+"Then, that's why."
+
+"You see, I cannot put my ringer on the brute."
+
+"He has you in a cleft stick. Who knows that better than Acton?"
+
+"I'm going to thrash Jack, the little idiot. I distinctly told him to
+give Acton a wide berth."
+
+"Jack, of course, is an idiot; but Acton is the fellow that wants the
+thrashing."
+
+Phil pondered over this for fully five minutes.
+
+"You're right, old man, and I'll give--I'll try to give--him the
+thrashing he deserves."
+
+"Big biz," said I. "You say you aren't as good as Hodgson; Hodgson isn't
+in the same street as Acton; _ergo_, you aren't in the same parish."
+
+"That's your beastly logic, Carr. Does a good cause count for nothing?"
+
+"Not for much, when you're dealing with sharps."
+
+"I see _you've_ inherited your pater's law books. The school goes home
+to-morrow, doesn't it? Well, my Lord Chief Justice, in what relation do
+you stand towards the school to-morrow? Are you Captain?"
+
+"No," said I, in my best legal manner. "There is no school
+to-morrow--_ergo_, there cannot be a captain of a non-existent thing.
+To-morrow is a _dies non_ as far as I'm concerned. Why this thirst for
+knowledge, Phil?"
+
+"Because I want you to be my second against Acton, and I didn't want
+your captaincy to aid or abet me in a thing which is against rules."
+
+"I see," said I, warmly, "and I will sink the rules and all the rest,
+and trust to a little rough justice being done on an arrant scamp."
+
+"Thanks," said Phil. "With you as second and a good cause, I ought to
+teach Acton a little genuine lesson."
+
+"I'd rather trust in a good straight left."
+
+"All right, then. I'll see Acton now, and bring him to the point."
+
+"Do, and let me have the result."
+
+Phil swung off in that cool, level-headed fashion which is peculiarly
+his own. He had thought the matter out thoroughly in that five minutes'
+brown study, and now that he had put his hand to the plough he would not
+look back. I liked the set shoulders and his even step down the
+corridor. Surely something must reach Acton now! He walked down the
+street, turned in at Biffen's yard, and mounted up to Acton's room. He
+knocked firmly on the partly open door, and when he heard Acton's "Come
+in," walked solidly in.
+
+Acton smiled amiably when he saw his visitor, and, with his half-foreign
+politeness, drew out a chair.
+
+"No, thanks," said Phil, icily; "but, if you've no objection, I'd like
+to close your door. May I?"
+
+"By all means."
+
+"My opinion of you, Acton----"
+
+"Why trouble about that, Bourne; I know it.".
+
+----"is that you're an unmitigated cad."
+
+"Gently, friend, gently," said Acton, half getting up.
+
+"You, by your foul play, have disfigured poor Aspinall for life----"
+
+"Bourne, you're a monomaniac on that subject. I've had the pleasure of
+telling you once before that you were a liar."
+
+"And you did not get your 'footer' cap for it, which seems such a paltry
+punishment for so villainous a crime."
+
+"That is stale, stale," said Acton, coolly.
+
+"You entice my brother to London, which means expulsion for him if it is
+found out by Dr. Moore."
+
+"I believe that's the rule."
+
+"The expulsion of Jack would bring disgrace on an honest name in the
+school and give pain to an honest gentleman----"
+
+"The pity o' 't," said Acton, with a sneer.
+
+"And so, since you, by a kind of malicious fate, seem to escape all
+proper punishment----"
+
+"You should be a parson, Bourne."
+
+"I'm going to try to give you your deserts myself."
+
+"An avenging angel. Oh, ye gods!"
+
+"Do you mind turning out at the old milling ground at seven sharp
+to-morrow morning?"
+
+"The mornings are chilly," said Acton, with a snigger. "Besides, I
+don't really see what pressing obligation I'm under to turn out at that
+time for the poor pleasure of knocking you down."
+
+"I never thought you were a coward."
+
+"How charitable!"
+
+"But we must bring you to book somehow. Will you fight--now?"
+
+Before he had time to avoid the blow Phil had struck him lightly on the
+face. For one half second a veritable devil peeped out of Acton's eyes
+as he sprung at Phil. But Phil quickly backed, and said coolly, "No--no,
+sir! Let us do the thing decently and in order. You can try to do all
+you wish to-morrow morning very much at your ease. I apologize for
+striking you in your own room, but necessity, you know----"
+
+"Bourne, you'll regret that blow!"
+
+"Never," said Phil, emphatically, and with cutting contempt. "I have
+asked Carr to second me. I dare say Vercoe would do the same for you. He
+has the merit of being a perfectly straightforward fellow, and since he
+does not go home like the rest to-morrow----"
+
+"Thanks. Vercoe will do excellently. He is a friend of yours, too!"
+
+"I'm glad to say he is."
+
+"Well, you may now be pretty certain there will be no foul play,
+whatever else may follow. I'll teach you wisdom on your front teeth."
+
+"I dare say," said Phil, as he coolly stalked out, and left Acton curled
+up on his chair, like a cobra balancing for its stroke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+A RENEWED FRIENDSHIP
+
+
+One morning Gus was much astonished to receive a letter containing a
+blank sheet of notepaper enfolding a postal order for £1. This was
+properly filled in, payable to A.V.R. Todd at St. Amory's Post-office,
+but there was not the slightest clue as to the sender. Gus looked at the
+blue and white slip in an ecstasy of astonishment. Now, Gus knew that no
+one was aware of his bankrupt exchequer save Cotton, and he knew that
+Jim was not likely to have said anything about it for one or two very
+good reasons, and would now keep it darker than ever. If it were known
+that Gus had been practically pilloried for being penniless by the
+fellow who had lifted his cash, Cotton would have heard a few fancy
+remarks on his own conduct which would have made his ears tingle. Gus
+pondered over this problem of the sender until he felt giddy, but he
+finally came to the conclusion that Cotton had regretted his polite
+attentions to an old friend, and had sent the order as a kind of _amende
+honorable_. Gus instantly regretted the fervent wishes about the boiling
+oil and the public kicking for Jim Cotton, and he also determined to go
+and thank his old patron for what he was sure was his anonymous gift.
+
+So, after breakfast, he cashed the order and, with pockets heavier with
+coin than they had been for some time, he went to Jim Cotton's room. Jim
+received him with an odd mixture of anger and shame, and when Gus handed
+over to him two half-crowns, Cotton in some confusion, told him to hand
+them over to Philips, who had initiated the subscription for the Penfold
+tablet.
+
+"Thought you were the secretary?" said Gus.
+
+"No! I'm out of the boat now. Philips is the man," said Cotton, sulkily.
+
+"And, by the way, Jim, it wasn't half bad of you to send me that order.
+It was no end brickish, especially after I had left you more or less in
+the lurch."
+
+"What order?" said Jim, looking curiously at Gus.
+
+"What's the good of trying to pass it off like that, old man? It could
+only be you."
+
+"I don't know what you're driving at. You seem to be talking rot," said
+Cotton, angrily, for he fancied that Gus was fooling him in some way.
+
+"Well, I've got an order for £1 this morning, envelope stamped St.
+Amory, and it could only come from some one who knew I was stumped, and
+you're the only fellow who knew that, unless, indeed, you've been kind
+enough to tell some of the fellows."
+
+"I've told no one; and anyway, I didn't send the order."
+
+"Oh, rot!"
+
+"Thanks! I don't tell lies as a rule, and I say I know nothing whatever
+about your order. I think you'd better cut now, instead of wasting my
+time with this rotten foolery."
+
+"You didn't send it?" said Gus, finally, with more than a dash of
+irritation in his voice at the continued boorishness of Cotton.
+
+"No, I tell you! Shall I get a foghorn and let you have it that way?"
+
+"Then, look here, Cotton. If you didn't send it, your underscoring of my
+name on the house list because I couldn't subscribe was the act of an
+arrant cad."
+
+Cotton winced at Gus's concise definition, but he said, "Oh, get out,
+you fool!"
+
+"Fool, or not," said Gus, becoming more angry every moment as he thought
+of his wrongs, "I'm not an underbred loafer who cleans a fellow out of
+his cash and then rounds on him because he can't pay his way. Why, a
+Whitechapel guttersnipe----"
+
+"Can't appreciate the allusion," said Jim; "I've never been to
+Whitechapel. But anyhow, Todd, there's the door. I think you had really
+better go."
+
+"Not till I've said you're the biggest bounder in St. Amory's."
+
+"Now you've said it you really must go, or I'll throw you out!"
+
+Gus was too taken up with his own passion to notice that Cotton was also
+at about the limit of his patience, and that Jim's lips had set into a
+grim and ugly sneer. Todd was furiously trying to find some clinching
+expression which would quite define Jim's conduct, when that gentleman
+took one stride forward and caught him by the collar. The grip, the very
+touch of Cotton's fingers maddened Gus beyond all bearing. His anger
+broke loose from all control; he wrenched himself out of Cotton's grasp
+and passionately struck him on the mouth.
+
+Cotton turned grey with passion as bitter as Todd's and repaid Gus's
+blow with interest. Gus dropped to the floor, bleeding villainously.
+Cotton thereupon jerked him to his feet, and threw him out of the room.
+
+Gus picked himself up from the corridor floor and went to his own room,
+his face as white as a sheet and his heart as black as ink. What Gus
+suffered from his passion, his shame, his hatred, and the pain of his
+old friend's blow, for the next few hours words will not tell. He
+attended morning school, his head in a whirl of thought. Cotton was
+there too, and, could looks have killed, Jim Cotton would not have been
+in the land of the living for very long. When Merishall went, Gus waited
+until all the form had filed out, and, still dizzy and sick, he wearily
+followed suit and turned in at his own door. As Gus came into the room
+some one rose up and faced round to meet him, and Todd found himself
+once more face to face with Cotton.
+
+Now, the blow which had tumbled down Gus so heartily had, so to speak,
+tumbled down the striker in his own mind just as thoroughly. Jim
+Cotton's mind was not a subtle one, but the minute after he had floored
+Gus and shut the door on him, his better mind told him distinctly that
+he was a cad. Why? Because when he struck Gus the feeling was as though
+he had struck a cripple. Gus had doubled up under the weight of his hand
+as though he had been a leaf. Cotton dimly felt that for a fellow of his
+build and weight to let Gus have the full benefit of both was not fair.
+"That is how it must feel, I suppose, to strike a girl. My fist seems
+unclean," he said, in huge disgust. "I'd give Todd his three sovs. back
+if I could recall that blow. I wish I'd left the fool alone, and anyhow,
+it's my opinion I don't shine much in our little squabble. Todd has been
+playing the man since his Perry cropper, and I've been playing the cad
+just because he was once useful to me and I did not want to let him go."
+Cotton devoted the next few hours to a little honest unselfish thinking,
+and the result was that he came pretty near to despising himself. "I'll
+go and apologize to Gus, and if he shies the poker at my head I'm hanged
+if I dodge it."
+
+That is why Gus was received in his own room by the fellow who had so
+lately knocked him down. Gus stared at Jim, his swollen lip trembling
+with anger and his eyes blazing with indignation.
+
+"I say, Gus, old man, I am an utter out-and-out cad, and I've come to
+apologize."
+
+Gus murmured something indistinctly.
+
+"When I knocked you down I did the most blackguardly thing that even I
+have ever done, and, you may believe me or not, I am now about disgusted
+with myself. I felt that there was only one thing that I could do, and
+that was to apologize."
+
+Jim was so obviously cut up by remorse that Gus thereupon buried the
+hatchet. He did not throw the poker at Jim's head, and you may be
+surprised to hear--or you may not--that Gus and Jim Cotton took their
+after-dinner coffee at Hooper's, as in the old time. The conversation
+was _staccato_ at first, but interesting.
+
+"But who sent the order?" said Gus.
+
+"Dunno, really; but I could almost bet my boots that Taylor is the
+criminal."
+
+"Taylor! What does he know of my affairs?"
+
+"Well, that beastly house list with your red raw agony column made him
+most suspicious, and I believe he knows to a hair exactly how big a cad
+I've been."
+
+"Go on, old man; leave that."
+
+"He sucked Philips dry about the Penfold tombstone, and although he said
+nothing to me personally, Philips gave me to understand that I'm not in
+favour with the parson. Taylor is the man who's provided your sub. for
+the Penfold, take my word for it."
+
+"He's not half such a bad fellow, Jim."
+
+"No," said Jim, with an uneasy laugh; "Taylor's all right, but he'll
+make me squirm when he has the chance."
+
+The friendship of Cotton and Todd was thus renewed and cemented--with
+Gus's bluest blood. Gus gave Jim some good advice about the schools,
+which made Jim feel a bit dubious.
+
+"Chuck your Bohn's cribs and your keys under the grate, and show up
+your own work."
+
+"Footle, you mean, Gus."
+
+"All right, footle, then. I know all our own private personal beaks
+would rather have a fellow's own work, if of fair quality, than all the
+weirdest screeds from any crib whatsoever."
+
+Jim made the experiment, very gingerly, be it said, but did show up his
+own work, and from Corker to Merishall all the beaks were civil to him.
+Gus's reputation as a prophet was established, for Corker himself seemed
+pleased with the Cottonian version of Herodotus.
+
+"Rather rough in parts, Cotton," said the old man, beaming on the
+shrinking Jim; "but at least you've not been ploughing Herodotus with
+the help of your old ass, Bohn."
+
+Jim's effort, however, came too late to affect in any degree his
+position in the Fifth. When the lists of the Easter term were published,
+Cotton was the last, deservedly, of the form, but A.V.R. Todd was the
+seventh. This was an eye-opener to many in the form, but the result sent
+Gus into the seventh heaven of delight. Taylor came specially into
+Todd's modest sanctum to congratulate him, and Corker sent an extra
+special letter to Todd senior, saying all manner of sweet things about
+Gus. He put the highest mark of his favour upon the delighted Gus by
+asking him to dinner--a very great honour, but a dreadful ordeal. Gus
+was wonderfully nervous as he commenced his soup. How do I know? Well, I
+had been asked, I believe, to give the bewildered Gus a little
+countenance. Gus went home, a day or two later, to the bosom of his
+family, where he was treated with the utmost honour. He redeemed the
+watch from the jeweller, and fulfilled his own promise to that worthy
+man. All through the holidays he basked in the smiles of his proud
+father, and rode that gentleman's pedigree hack. Corker's highest mark
+of appreciation was to give you a dinner; with Gus's father it was to
+let you ride his own horse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+A LITTLE ROUGH JUSTICE
+
+
+Quietly and without any fuss the few details were arranged, and next
+morning four of us filtered down to the old milling ground, on whose
+green sod so many wrongs had been righted in the old times, and where I
+sincerely hoped Phil would yet redress, however imperfectly, another.
+
+Of course, we all know fisticuffs are not what they were; for every
+strenuous mill of to-day there used to be fifty in the old days, and the
+green turf which formerly was the scene of terrific combats between
+fellows of the Upper School now only quaked under the martial hoof of,
+say, Rogers, the prize fag of Biffen's, and Poulett, the champion egg
+poacher of Corker's, and other humble followers of the "fancy." Milling
+as an institution in the schools may write up "Ichabod" above its gates.
+
+I tossed with Vercoe for corners, and when I won, I chose the favourite
+corner, the one King had when he fought Sellers with a broken wrist, and
+beat him, too; which Cooper had when he stood up to Miller for one whole
+half-holiday, and though beaten three or four times over, never knew it,
+and won in the end, which mills and the causes thereof, if some one
+would write about them, would make capital reading. Anyhow, it is a
+lucky corner, from the legends connected with it, and I thought we
+should need any luck that might be knocking about so early in the
+morning.
+
+Phil was as cool and calm as though he were going to gently tund a small
+fag for shirking. Acton was outwardly calm, but inwardly seething with
+hate, rage, and blood-thirstiness. His proud soul lusted for the
+opportunity to repay the flick on the face he had received from Phil,
+with interest. I watched the sparkling fire in his eye, the unaffected
+eagerness for the fray in his pose, and thought that even Acton had not
+quite the skill to cater for such a large and lusty appetite. Vercoe and
+I set our watches, and agreed to call time together, and then we moved
+each to our corner. Phil peeled as quietly as though he were going to
+bed, Acton with feverish haste, which perhaps was his foreign blood
+working out; beside Acton's swift, impulsive movements Phil's leisurely
+arrangements seemed sluggish indeed.
+
+"Time!" said Vercoe and I in chorus, and I added in an undertone to my
+man, "Go in and win."
+
+It was obvious from the start that Phil was not as good a man as Acton
+as far as skill was concerned, but when it came to well-knit strength
+there was no doubt that Phil had the pull. Acton's eagerness was a
+disadvantage against one so cool as Bourne. In the very first round,
+Acton, in his overwhelming desire to knock Phil out in as short a space
+as possible, neglected every ordinary precaution, and, after a spirited
+rally, Phil broke through Acton's slovenly guard, and sent him spinning
+into Vercoe's arms. We called time together, and to my intense
+satisfaction the first round resulted in our favour.
+
+After that, thoroughly steadied by Phil's gentle reminder, Acton dropped
+all looseness, and began to treat Phil with the greatest respect, never
+taking any risks, but working in a scientific fashion, which poor Phil
+found hard enough to parry, and when he could not do that, hard enough
+to bear. But he never faltered; he took all that Acton could give him in
+imperturbable good temper, working in his dogged fashion as though he
+were absolutely confident of winning in the long run, and as
+disregarding present inconveniences because they were expected, and
+because the ultimate reward would repay all a hundred-fold.
+
+There was also something else I noticed. Acton did not do so much damage
+as he ought to have done, and I found him constantly "short," but when
+Phil did score there was the unmistakable ring of a telling blow. I was
+puzzled in my mind why Acton was so "short," but I think now it was
+because he had never done anything but with gloves on, and fisticuffs,
+which were more or less familiar with Phil, were unknown to him. They
+don't fight, I believe, in France or Germany with Nature's weapons, but
+occasional turn-ups with the farmers' sons and the canal men had, of
+course, fallen to Phil's share.
+
+On each occasion that Phil got home, Acton answered with a vicious
+spurt which did not do much good, but only tired him, and at the end of
+the seventh round I was astonished to think that Phil had stood the
+racket so well. Phil's lips were puffy, and one eye was visibly
+swelling, and he had other minor marks of Acton's attention, but he was
+in excellent condition still. Acton was damaged above a bit, and Phil's
+first-round reminder showed plainly on his cheek.
+
+Acton began to think that unless he could make Phil dance to a quicker
+tune pretty soon, he himself would be limping round the corner of
+defeat, for he was very tired. When we called them up for the eighth
+round, he had evidently determined to force the fighting. Much as I
+disliked Acton, I could not but admire his splendid skill; he bottled up
+Phil time and again, feinted, ducked, rallied, swung out in the nick of
+time, planted hard telling blows, and was withal as hard to corner as a
+sunbeam. As I sponged Phil at the end of the eighth I felt that three
+more rounds as per last sample would shake even him, so I said, "Try,
+old man, for one straight drive if he gives you a ghost of a chance.
+Don't try tapping."
+
+Acton came up smiling; in a twinkling he had Phil at sea by his
+trickiness, and was scoring furiously. Then, for the first time, Phil
+backed, shortly and sharply. Acton sprang forward for victory, and a
+huge lunge should have given Phil his quietus, but it was dreadfully
+short, and stung rather than hurt. Phil recovered the next moment, and
+was on the watch again cool and cautious as ever. Then Acton, following
+an artless feint which drew Phil as easily as a child, ducked the blow
+and darted beneath his guard. I gave Phil up for lost. How it happened,
+though I was watching carefully, I cannot say, but Acton seemed to
+slither or stumble on the turf as he rushed in, and for one second he
+was at Phil's mercy.
+
+At that very instant Phil's arm flashed out, and with a blow which would
+have felled an ox, he caught Acton between the eyes. Acton dropped to
+the ground like a bludgeoned dog.
+
+Phil, like a gentleman, backed a yard or so away, waiting for Acton to
+get up again, but he made no sign. Vercoe and I then counted him out
+with all due formality, and Phil had won at the very moment he was about
+to be beaten. We did our best for Acton, who was unconscious, and, just
+when we began to despair of bringing him round, he opened his eyes with
+the usual vacant stare. In a minute he recovered his thoughts, and said
+eagerly, "Then I've won."
+
+"Not quite," said Vercoe, grimly. "You've jolly well lost."
+
+Acton tottered to his feet blind with rage--diabolic rage--but hate and
+fury couldn't give him strength to stand. Vercoe gently caught him, and
+laid him quietly on his back, and sponged his face where the awful force
+of Phil's blow was becoming plainer every moment.
+
+He compressed his lips with rage and pain, and looked at Phil with such
+a look of deadly hatred that Vercoe was disgusted.
+
+"Now come, Acton. You've fought well, and, by Jove! you ought to lose
+well. Bourne fought like a gentleman, and you've been beaten fairly.
+What is the good of bearing any malice?"
+
+"Look here, Acton," said Phil, "I'm jolly glad I've thrashed you, but
+all is over now. Here's my hand, and we'll let bygones be bygones."
+
+"Never!" said Acton. "I'll get even with you yet."
+
+"So be it," said Bourne; and he turned away, and got into his coat,
+leaving Vercoe and Acton on the field of battle. "Don't care to mention
+it, old man," he said to me as we got to his room, "all the same, I
+thought I was a gone coon just when I knocked the fellow out."
+
+I went for my holidays that morning, and Acton, escorted by Vercoe, got
+into the same train. He was white and almost scared looking at his
+defeat, but there was on his face still that unfading expression of
+unsatisfied hate and lust for revenge. I buried my face in my paper in
+utter disgust.
+
+So you see Acton departed from St. Amory's at the beginning of the
+Easter holidays in a slightly different mood from that which he enjoyed
+at Christmas, when the young Biffenites had cheered him till they were
+hoarse and he was out of hearing.
+
+Toby was almost beside himself with consternation when Bourne and Vercoe
+turned up at the Courts in the afternoon.
+
+"Your 'ands, Mr. Bourne, and your eye! What have you been a-doing of?"
+
+"I have had the painful necessity to thrash a cad, Toby."
+
+"But you did thrash him, sir?"
+
+"I fancy so," said Bourne, grimly.
+
+Jack went home in the evening a sadder and wiser boy. When he saw his
+brother's closed eye and swollen lip, and the angry patches on his
+cheeks, he was cut to the heart; he took his thrashing like a man, and,
+when all was over, felt he loved and respected his brother more than
+ever. "What a beastly little pig I've been," he said to himself.
+
+Vercoe and Bourne were the victorious finalists at Kensington in the
+rackets. It was, as the papers aptly remarked, "Quite a coincidence that
+Bourne's right eye was beautifully and variously decorated in honour of
+the occasion."
+
+I don't expect many finalists, at rackets anyhow, turn up with black
+eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE MADNESS OF W.E. GRIM
+
+
+Grim and Wilson had come back to St. Amory's firmly convinced that
+Biffen's was the most glorious house that had ever existed, and that it
+would do--thanks to Acton, Worcester, and the dervishes--great things
+when the cricket housers came round.
+
+"Grimmy," said Wilson, "you'll have to try to get into the team this
+year. You would last, if your batting hadn't been so rotten."
+
+"All right, old man; don't rub that in too often."
+
+"You put in a lot of extra practice at one of those bottom nets, Grimmy,
+and you'll find Worcester'll shove you in first choice, almost, this
+go."
+
+"Serene. Shall we try to raise a bottle of cherries now," said Grim,
+lazily, lounging from net to net. "It's heaps too soon to think of
+housers yet."
+
+"You conceited ass, Grimmy! Not for you. Your batting is too awful."
+
+"Don't worry now. Oceans of time, I tell you. We'll try some cherries,
+eh?"
+
+The pair strolled lazily off the field, and made several purchases in
+the preserved fruit line, and then adjourned to their common room for
+refreshment.
+
+But, as time went on, Grim did not fall in with Wilson's arrangements
+quite as enthusiastically as that single-hearted Biffenite would have
+liked him to. A fortnight passed, and Grim had only put in the
+regulation practice at the nets to Wilson's intense disgust, and the
+time that should have been devoted to extra cricket was "wasted,"
+according to that ardent Biffenite, in doing, of all things, needlessly
+elaborate translations for Merishall.
+
+"Whatever is the good of getting the very word the beak wants, Grimmy. I
+always translate _Carmen_--a song. Does it matter a cherry-stone that it
+sometimes means a charm? What good does it do you, you idiot? It only
+means that Merishall is harder on us. Think of your friends, Grimmy, do.
+If I didn't know you were a bit cracked, I'd say your performance was
+undiluted 'smugging.'"
+
+"Cork that frivol, do," said Grim, who was stretched full length on the
+grass and gazing skywards with a rapt expression in his eyes, "and look
+over there. How beautiful it is!"
+
+"How beautiful what is?" asked Wilson, astonished.
+
+"The sunset, you ass!"
+
+"I don't see anything special about it," said Wilson. "An ordinary
+affair!"
+
+"Ordinary affair! Ugh, you idiot. Look at those lovely colours mingling
+one with another, those light fleecy clouds floating in a purple sea,
+that beautiful tint in the woods yonder, that--that--"
+
+"Steady, Grim. Take time," said Wilson, squirming away from his chum.
+
+"Wilson, you haven't any soul for beauty. A sunset is the loveliest
+sight on earth, you duffer."
+
+"Didn't know a sunset ever was on earth," said Wilson, sarcastically.
+
+"Is that funny?"
+
+"All serene, Grimmy," said Wilson, elaborately agreeing with his friend
+as a mother might with a sick child. "Matter of fact, it is rather fine.
+Not unlike a Zingari blazer, eh?"
+
+"Zingari blazer!"
+
+"Exactly like. And that pink on the trees would do for the Westminster
+shirts."
+
+"Blazers and shirts," cried Grim, in disgust. "Oh! get out."
+
+"Let's get in, Grimmy, instead. You'd better see the doctor. 'Pon
+honour, you aren't well."
+
+"I can't help it," said W.E. Grim, resignedly, "if you haven't any soul.
+Yes, I'll come. I've got Merishall's work."
+
+There was a coolness that night between the two friends as they sat at
+the opposite sides of their common table doing their work for Merishall,
+and Wilson was determined to find out what was disturbing their
+accustomed peace. He had soon done his modicum of prose and forthwith
+broached matters.
+
+"Let's have this business out, Grim. It will do you a lot of harm if you
+keep it in."
+
+"The fact is----" began Grim, hesitating.
+
+"Allez! houp-la!" said Wilson, encouragingly.
+
+"I'm going in strong for poetry."
+
+For reply Wilson laughed as though his life depended on the effort, and
+Grim turned a rich rosy hue. Wilson finally blurted out--
+
+"Grim, you're an utter idiot."
+
+"What do you think about it?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"I thought it would surprise you."
+
+"It has, but nothing you do ever will again. Lord, Grimmy, was it for
+this you chucked cricket and your chance of the house eleven?" Wilson
+exploded again, uproariously. "I'll tell Rogers and Jack Bourne. You a
+poet!"
+
+"Why shouldn't I be, you silly cuckoo?"
+
+"Why, you haven't got the cut of a poet, for one thing, and for another,
+I believe, next to your mother, the thing you like best in the world is
+a good dinner." Wilson waxed eloquent on Grim's defects from a poet's
+standpoint. "Your hair is as stiff as any hair-brush; you can't deny
+you're short and a trifle beefy; and was ever a poet made out of your
+material and fighting weight?"
+
+"That isn't criticism," said Grim, angrily.
+
+"No," said Wilson, bitterly. "I don't pretend to that. They are a few
+surface observations only. Just tell this to Rogers or even Cherry, and
+watch 'em curl."
+
+Wilson and Grim went to bed that night pretty cool towards each other,
+but in the morning Grim was obstinately bent on being the poet as he
+was the next week and the week after that. He wrestled with poetry
+morning, noon, and night, and he made himself a horrible nuisance to his
+old cronies. Wilson complained bitterly about their study being "simply
+fizzing with poetry." Grim sprang a poem or a sonnet, or a tribute or
+some other forsaken variety of poetry, on pretty well everything about
+the place. He "_did_" the dawn and worked round to the sunset. He had a
+little shy at the church and the tombstones, and wrote about the horse
+pond's "placid wave." He did four sonnets on the school, looking from
+north, south, east and west, and let himself go in fine style about the
+school captain's batting. He sent this to Phil, and Phil passed the
+disquisition on to me; it was very funny indeed. Not a single thing was
+safe from his poetry, and he cut what he could of cricket to write
+"tributes."
+
+He had a lively time from his own particular knot of friends and
+enemies, and they jollied him to an extent that, perhaps, reached
+high-water mark, when Grim found one morning on his table a dozen
+thoughtful addresses of lunatic asylums, and specimens of the writing of
+mad people, culled from a popular magazine. But Grim recked not, and
+persevered. He turned out, as became a budding poet, weird screeds from
+Ovid, Virgil, and Horace--Bohn's cribs were simple to his tangled
+stuff--and Merishall beamed wreathed smiles upon him, and told him he
+was "catching the spirit of the original." After this patent, distinct
+leg-up from Merishall, Grim took the bit between his teeth and went
+careering up and down the plains of poesy until the lights were cut
+off.
+
+Wilson bore with his chum for a month, and then finally delivered his
+ultimatum.
+
+"If you're still a poet at midsummer, I'm going to cut, and dig with
+Rogers or Cherry. This den isn't big enough for you, me, and the
+'original spirits' you wing every night. I'm off to the nets. Coming?
+No? Jove! Grimmy, what nightmares you must take to bed with you every
+night."
+
+But the kindly Fates had the keeping of the chums' friendship in their
+safe keeping, and I haven't observed yet, that Grim and Wilson are less
+friendly than they used to be. This consummation is owing to Miss
+Varley. This young lady, _ætat_ XIV, or thereabouts, was responsible for
+the reclamation of Grim. What the whole posse of his acquaintances with
+their blandishments and threats could not effect in the space of a
+month, she did within four and twenty hours. I cannot account for this,
+except on the supposition that little girls with long yellow hair and
+pretty brown eyes, and a perambulating blush, create mighty earthquakes
+in the breasts of rowdy fags. Miss Hilda Elsie Varley, being Biffen's
+niece, had taken the house under her protection, was more rabidly
+Biffenite than even Rogers, adored Acton, reverenced Worcester, and
+appreciated Chalmers, but despised fags who weren't "training-on" for
+one of her houses' various elevens. Her sentiments on these matters were
+mysteriously but accurately known amongst Biffenite juniors.
+
+Grim finally turned his poetical talents upon this young lady. I am not
+quite certain why he delayed so long. Perhaps he had waited until his
+gift of song had matured so that the offering might be worthy of the
+shrine, or perhaps because he had exhausted all other exalted subjects
+for his muse, but anyhow, he sent Miss Varley an ode on her birthday.
+This day was pretty generally known amongst Biffen's fags.
+
+When he had finished he read it to Wilson, who unbent from his
+antagonistic attitude towards poetry when he heard the subject of the
+verse.
+
+"After all, Grimmy, it doesn't sound more rotten than Virgil, and it
+_is_ rather swagger to say that Biffen's is to Hilda what Samnos was to
+Juno. It's a jolly lot more, though."
+
+Grim had cheerfully compared Miss Hilda to the queenly Juno, and said
+that if she would give Biffen's her protection, the house would give the
+other houses "fits" when the housers came round again; then he put in
+something about her hair, unconsciously cribbed from Ovid; and something
+about her walk--this I tracked to Horace; and wound up the whole farrago
+by saying he was ready to be her door-mat and to shield her from the
+furies, _etc_., which, I think, Grim genuinely evolved out of his own
+effervescing breast. The ode was properly posted by the poet himself,
+and even Wilson felt genuinely interested in the result. As for Grim, he
+was so jolly anxious that he could not tackle any more poems, but
+divided his time between ices at Hooper's and loafing round the
+letter-rack for Hilda's answer.
+
+A day or so later Wilson was busy translating for Merishall--carefully
+putting "songs" whenever he spotted "_carmina_"--when he heard Grim
+flying upstairs, and when the poet had smashed into the room, he held up
+a letter.
+
+"It's come," he gasped.
+
+Wilson laid down his pen and said, "Wait till you're cool, and then read
+it out."
+
+This is the letter _in extenso:_--
+
+                                      "Biffen's, Wednesday.
+
+"DEAR GRIM,
+  "I don't think you'll ever be a poet, at least not a great one. I
+believe I could give you the Latin for most of the lines you have
+written: they are so dreadfully like the translations of my
+school-books, and it isn't very flattering when one has to put up with
+second-hand compliments several thousand years old, is it? But I am very
+glad that you think my good opinion of any value to Biffen's, for I
+should dearly like to see our house top of the school this year, and how
+can it be when one, who ought to be in the House Eleven, gives up all
+his time to writing 'poetry' instead of playing cricket? I hope you will
+not be very vexed with me for writing this, but I know you would prefer
+me to be
+  "Yours very sincerely,
+  "HILDA E. VARLEY.
+
+  "P.S.--If I see you admiring the sunsets or the rose-bushes when you
+ought to be at the nets, I know I shall titter ... even if Miss Langton
+be with me.
+  "H.E.V."
+
+Grim struggled through this to the bitter end. Wilson made the very roof
+echo with his howls of unqualified delight, but Grim's face was
+uncommonly like that sunset he admired so much.
+
+"This is a sickener," he gasped.
+
+"Jove! Grim, you've wanted one long enough," said Wilson, holding his
+aching sides.
+
+"Crumbs! One would think she was old enough to be my mother."
+
+"That's a way they have, when they're not feeling quite the thing. No
+wonder, poor girl."
+
+"Look here, Wilson, keep this dark. I'm not going to write any more
+poetry. I've been thinking that, ever since I sent Hilda the ode. I
+don't think it's quite the real article."
+
+"No," said Wilson, consolingly; "only original-spirit catching."
+
+"A lot you know about it, old man," said Grim, hotly.
+
+"Granted, Grimmy; but Hilda twigged the fraud, quick enough."
+
+"Well, I'm going to burn it all, right off."
+
+They did. I believe I am doing Grim no injustice when I say he looks
+less a poet, and acts up to his looks, than any junior in St. Amory's.
+
+Two nights after the receipt of this fateful letter Grim was
+industriously practising Ranjitsinghi's famous glance at a snug, quiet
+net, when Miss Varley, accompanied by Miss Cornelia Langton, her
+governess, went past the nets. Miss Langton told Hilda afterwards that
+she ought not to speak to hard-working cricketers and distract them in
+their game. Hilda, I don't think, minded this little wigging, and Grim
+never went without a friendly nod as he turned from cutting Wilson into
+the nets, if Miss Hilda Elsie Varley went by.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+CONCERNING TODD AND COTTON
+
+
+Knowing Acton's pride--his overwhelming pride--I never expected to see
+him back at St. Amory's. I expected that he would almost have moved
+heaven and earth and got himself taken off the school books and gone to
+complete his education somewhere else rather than come back to the old
+place where he had had such a signal thrashing. But, of course, he knew
+jolly well that we four had our tongues tied, and that the knowledge of
+his defeat was, so to speak, strictly private property; and that is why,
+I am pretty sure, he turned up again.
+
+He strolled up and down the High, arm-in-arm with Worcester, in high
+good humour, on the day we returned; but when I turned the corner and
+came upon him _vis-à-vis_ he gave me a long, level, steady look of
+hatred, which told me that he had nursed his wrath to keep it warm. His
+look made me thoughtful. Young Jack Bourne, too, came sailing along--a
+breezy miniature copy of Phil, his brother--but when he caught sight of
+his former patron he blushed like a girl and scuttled into the first
+available yard.
+
+[Illustration: HE GAVE ME A LONG, STEADY LOOK OF HATRED.]
+
+He was not particularly anxious to meet Acton, for Phil, in the
+holidays, had given Jack a pretty correct inkling of Acton's character,
+and he began to see--in fact, he did see--that Raffles and the shooting
+and the billiards, and the hocus pocus of "hedging on Grape Shot," and
+the trip to London, etc., was only one involved, elaborate plot to
+strike at Phil. Jack now fully realized that he had played a very
+innocent fly to Acton's consummate spider, and he now, when there wasn't
+any very pressing necessity, determined to give the spider's parlour a
+very wide berth indeed. Acton saw Jack's little manoeuvre, and smiled
+gently. He was genuinely fond of Jack, but young Bourne had served his
+purpose; and now, thought Acton, philosophically, "Jack looks upon me as
+a monster of iniquity, and he won't cultivate my acquaintance." And
+Phil? Well, Phil regarded the incident as "closed," and paid no heed to
+his enemy's bitter looks, but divided his attention between his books
+and cricket, keeping, perhaps unnecessarily, a bright outlook upon
+Master Jack.
+
+Todd had come back to St. Amory's in a very different frame of mind from
+that in which he had returned after the Perry fiasco. His three weeks'
+holiday had been no end enjoyable; and now, besides a coin or two in his
+pocket, he had a clean, crisp note in his purse. As he stepped out of
+the train at the station, the burly figure of Jim Cotton hove in sight,
+and an eleven-inch palm clapped Gus on the back.
+
+"Hallo! old man. How goes it?"
+
+"Oh!" said Gus, coughing; "I'm all right, Jim, and your biceps seem in
+their usual working order."
+
+"They are, Gus. I've got a cab out here; we'll go on together."
+
+"Rather! I must find some one to see to the traps, though."
+
+"I've commandeered young Grim," said Jim, "and he'll see to them."
+
+"Provident beggar! Here you are, Grim. Put mine into Taylor's cart, and
+here's a shilling for you."
+
+Grim, who felt rather injured at being lagged by Cotton so early in the
+term, just at the moment, too, when he had caught sight of Wilson
+staggering along with a heavy hat-box, etc., seized Jim's and Gus's
+effects. Todd's modest _douceur_, however, took off the rough edge of
+his displeasure.
+
+After tea, Cotton and Todd strolled about, and finally came to anchor
+behind the nets, where some of the Sixth were already at practice.
+
+"Phil Bourne's good for a hundred at Lord's," said Jim, critically,
+watching Phil's clean, crisp cutting with interest.
+
+"There's Acton out, too."
+
+"Raw," said Jim. "Biffen's beauty has never been taught to hold his bat,
+that is evident. Footer is more his line, I take it."
+
+"Are you going to have a try for the eleven, Jim, this year?"
+
+"I'll see how things shape. If Phil Bourne gives me the hint that I have
+a chance, I'll take it, of course."
+
+"Will he give Acton the hint, think you?"
+
+"I shouldn't say so," said Jim, as Acton's stumps waltzed out of the
+ground for the fourth time. "He can't play slows for toffee."
+
+"Rum affair about the footer cap," said Gus.
+
+"Rather so. But I believe Phil Bourne is as straight as a die. I'm not
+so sure of Acton, though. I fancy there's something to be explained
+about the cap. By the way, Gus, are you going to loaf about this term as
+usual? Taylor's house side really does want bigger fellows than it's
+got."
+
+"No!" said Gus. "I'm no good at cricket, nor croquet, nor any other
+game; nor do I really care a song about them. All the same, I'm not
+going to loaf."
+
+"What is the idea?" said Jim, curiously.
+
+"I'm going to have a shot for the history medal, and I mean to crawl up
+into the first three in the Fifth."
+
+"And you'll do 'em, Toddy," said Jim, admiringly. "You're not quite such
+an ass as you once were."
+
+"Well, I'll work evenly and regularly, and, perhaps, pull off one or
+other of them."
+
+"I go, you know, at midsummer. Then I'm to cram somewhere for the Army.
+Taylor's been advising a treble dose of mathematics, and I think I'll
+oblige him this time."
+
+"Taylor's not half a bad fellow," said Gus.
+
+"Oh, you're a monomaniac on that subject, Gus! Once you felt ill if you
+met Taylor or Corker on your pavement."
+
+Jim Cotton was right. Gus was now a vastly different fellow from the
+shiftless, lazy, elusive Gus of old; he worked evenly and steadily
+onward, and, in consequence, his name danced delightfully near the top
+of the weekly form-lists of the Fifth Form. He, however, did not sap
+everlastingly, but on half holidays lounged luxuriantly on the school
+benches, watching the cricket going on in the bright sunshine, or he
+would take his rod and have an afternoon among the perch in the
+Lodestone, that apology for a stream. Fishing was Gus's ideal of
+athleticism; the exercise was gentle, and you sometimes had half a dozen
+perch for your trouble. Gus argued there was nothing to show for an
+eight hours' fag at cricket in a broiling sun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+ACTON'S LAST MOVE
+
+
+Phil's unpopularity had somewhat abated, for his victory in the rackets
+had given him a good leg up in the estimation of his fellows; but still
+there was the uneasy feeling that in the matter of the "footer" cap his
+conduct was shady, or at least dubious.
+
+I was awfully sorry to see this, for I myself was leaving at midsummer,
+and in my own mind I had always looked upon Phil to take up the
+captaincy. He would have made, in my opinion, the _beau ideal_ of a
+captain, for he was a gentleman, a scholar, and an athlete. But the
+other monitors, or at least many of them, did not look upon Phil with
+enthusiasm, and his election for the captaincy did not now seem the sure
+thing it had done a few months before.
+
+At St. Amory's the monitors elect a captain, and Corker confirms the
+appointment if he thinks their choice suitable, but he insists that he
+must be well up in the Sixth, and not a mere athlete.
+
+Now, Phil's ambition was to be Captain of St. Amory's, as his father had
+been before him, and when the home authorities finally decided that I
+was to go to Cambridge in the Michaelmas term; Phil hoped and desired
+to step into my shoes. He had one great lever to move the fellows in his
+favour, he was much the best cricketer in the school and deservedly
+Captain of the Eleven, and, besides that, was one of the best all-round
+fellows in Sixth Form work. But Phil did not in the least hint that the
+captaincy was his soul's desire; he determined to merit it, and then
+leave the matter in the hands of the school. So, from the very beginning
+of the term, he read hard and played hard, and he left his mark on the
+class lists and the scoring-board in very unmistakable fashion.
+
+And now Acton came like an evil genius on the scene. In a word, he had
+determined that if he could in any way baulk poor Phil's ambition, he
+would. If by his means he could put Phil out of the running for the
+captaincy it should be done. If he could succeed, this success would
+make up and to spare for his two former defeats. Therefore, warily and
+cautiously, he set to work.
+
+Acton himself was not much of a cricketer; the game was not, as it were,
+second nature to him, as it was to Phil, but he was a very smart
+field--cover was his position--and he could slog heavily, and often with
+success. He threw himself heartily into the game, and crept rapidly up
+the ladder of improvement, until Biffen's whispered that their shining
+light stood a good chance of getting into the Eleven. "That is," said
+Biffen's crowd, "if Bourne will run straight and give a good man his
+flannels. But after the 'footer' fraud, what can one expect?" I heard
+of this, and straightway told Phil.
+
+"Oh, they need not fear. If Acton deserves his flannels, he will get
+them. I've nothing whatever against his cricket."
+
+Acton learned this, and instantly his new-found zeal for cricket
+slackened considerably.
+
+"Oh!" said he to himself, "I can't blister you there, Bourne, eh? I
+can't pose as the deserving cricketer kept out of the Eleven by a
+jealous cad of a captain, eh? So I'll try another tack to keep you in
+evil odour, Mr. Bourne."
+
+Acton did not turn up at the nets that night, and when Worcester noticed
+this, Acton calmly sailed on his new tack.
+
+"What's the good of sweating away at the nets, Dick? I'll not get my
+flannels in any case."
+
+"Oh yes, you will. Bourne has said he's got nothing against your
+cricket."
+
+"And you believe that, Dick?" said Acton, with a whistle of contemptuous
+incredulity.
+
+"I do," said Dick. "But you are not exactly quite the flier at cricket
+that you are at 'footer,' so you can't afford to slack up now."
+
+"I've got private knowledge," said Acton, with a filthy lie, "that I
+won't get 'em in any case, so I shall not try."
+
+Dick was considerably upset by this, and Acton's sudden stoppage of
+practice after an intense beginning made his lie seem a good imitation
+of truth, and gave Worcester food for bitter thoughts against Phil.
+Acton worked "the-no-good-to-try" dodge carefully and artistically; he
+never actually said his lie openly, or Phil would have nailed it to the
+counter, but, like a second Iago, he dropped little barbed insinuations
+here, little double-edged sayings there, until Biffenites to a man
+believed there would be a repetition of the "footer" cap over again, and
+the school generally drifted back to aloofness as far as Phil was
+concerned.
+
+Acton laid himself out to be excessively friendly with the monitors, and
+just as he entered into their good graces, Phil drifted out of them--in
+fact, to be friendly with Acton was the same thing as being cool towards
+Bourne. Phil made splendid scores Saturday after Saturday, but the
+enthusiasm which his fine play should have called out was wanting.
+
+"Why don't you cheer your captain, Tom?" I overheard a father say to his
+young hopeful.
+
+"No fear!" said the frenzied Biffenite. "Bourne is a beast!"
+
+In fact, the only one who seemed to derive any pleasure from Bourne's
+prowess in the field was Acton himself. He used to sit near the
+flag-staff, and when Phil made his splendid late cut, whose applause was
+so generous as his? whose joy so great? Acton's manoeuvres were on the
+highest artistic levels, I can assure you, and in the eyes of the
+fellows generally, his was a case of persecuted forgiving virtue. Acton,
+too, kept in old Corker's good books, and his achievements in the way of
+classics made the old master beam upon him with his keen blue eye.
+
+I saw with dismay how persistently unpopular Phil remained, and I heard
+the charms of Acton sung daily by monitor after monitor, until I saw
+that Acton had captured the whole body bar Phil's own staunch friends,
+Baines, Roberts, and Vercoe. And then it dawned upon me that Acton was
+making a bid for the captaincy himself, and when I had convinced myself
+that this was his object, I felt angrier than I can remember. I
+thereupon wrote to Aspinall, gave him a full, true, and particular
+account of Acton's campaign against Phil, and asked him to release
+me--and Phil--from our promise of secrecy regarding the football-match
+accident. His reply comforted me, and I knew that, come what might, I
+had a thunderbolt in my pocket in Aspinall's letter, which could knock
+Acton off the Captain's chair if he tried for that blissful seat.
+
+I told him so, to save trouble later on, and he heard me out with a far
+from pretty sneer, which, however, did not quite conceal his chagrin.
+But though I made sure of his being out of the hunt, I could not make
+sure of Phil being elected, and in a short time Mivart was mentioned
+casually as the likeliest fellow to take my place. I have nothing
+whatever to say against Mivart; he was a good fellow, but he was not
+quite up to Phil's level.
+
+Phil knew of these subterranean workings of his enemy, but he was too
+proud a fellow to try and make any headway against the mining.
+
+"If they elect Mivart they will elect a good man, that is all, though
+I'd give a lot, old man, to take your place."
+
+Thus things went on until Lord's came and ended in the usual draw.
+Phil's selection of the Eleven was in every way satisfactory, and his
+score for first wicket had made St. Amory's safe from defeat, but,
+despite all, his unpopularity was pronounced.
+
+The election was going to take place in a week, and Mivart, thanks to
+Acton's careful "nursing," was evidently going to romp home in the
+election with something like a sixteen to four majority. Vercoe
+determined to propose Phil, and Baines was only too delighted to second
+it; but Phil's cronies had no more hope of his success than Phil had
+himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+WHY BIFFEN'S LOST
+
+
+After the Lord's match there were two burning subjects of conversation:
+Who should be captain in my place? and which house should be the cock
+house at cricket? Every house captain looked with dread upon the house
+of Corker, great alike at cricket and footer, and it was agreed that
+very probably Phil Bourne would once more lead his men on to victory.
+Biffen's house did not stand much chance, for there was no superlative
+Acton at cricket; but it was, indeed, mainly through his efforts that
+Biffen's was as good as it was. You may remember that Acton had taken
+under his patronage those dark-skinned dervishes, Singh Ram and Runjit
+Mehtah. They were unquestionably the best pair of fellows in the school
+in strictly gymnastic work; and when summer came they showed that they
+would, sooner or later, do something startling with the bat. The
+Biffenite captain, Dick Worcester, did not altogether relish their
+proficiency. "It's just my luck to have my eleven filled up with
+niggers," he observed to Acton in half-humourous disgust; but Biffenites
+pinned their faith on Worcester, the dervishes, and Acton, and, to the
+huge delight of Grim, Rogers, Wilson, Thurston, and other enthusiastic
+junior Biffenites, the resurrected house survived the first two rounds.
+
+The third round they were to meet Taylor's lot, a good house, and the
+hopes of Grim and Co. were tinged with considerable doubt.
+
+On the particular afternoon when this important match was to be played,
+Todd had strolled off to the Lodestone stream, laden with all the
+necessary tackle for the slaying of a few innocent perch. The year's
+final lists of the forms were due also in the evening on the various
+notice-boards.
+
+Gus had redeemed his promise made at the beginning of the term, and had
+worked hard for a prominent position on the list, and his attempt to
+capture the history medal had been, he thought, fairly satisfactory. He
+would soon know his fate, however, in both directions. Meanwhile, to
+allay his anxiety as to the results, he had unpatriotically given the
+cricket-fields a wide berth, and thus deprived Taylor's of the privilege
+of his cheer in the house match. He and Cotton had an invitation to dine
+with Taylor that evening, so, after telling Jim his programme for the
+afternoon, he had trudged down the lane which Jack Bourne knew so well.
+
+The afternoon was hot: the one-o'clock sun made Gus think that perhaps
+there was more cruelty than usual in luring the fishes out of the cool
+waters of the Lodestone; but, nevertheless, he philosophically baited
+his hook, and cast forth. The sport was not exciting, and by-and-by Gus
+found himself wondering, not why the fish were so shy, but whence came
+the faint, delicate perfume of cigars, which undoubtedly reached his
+nostrils? The Lodestone Farm was a quarter of a mile away, and obviously
+the scent could not travel thus far, and since Gus was alone on the
+banks of the stream, running sluggishly towards the moat, the constant
+whiffs of cigars reaching him seemed somewhat mysterious. Gus looked
+again carefully, but could see no one, and yet there was undoubtedly
+some one smoking very near him.
+
+"Well, it _is_ odd," said Gus, for the nth time sniffing the "tainted
+breeze." Curiosity piqued the fisher to trace the mystery. He
+reconnoitred carefully, and presently fancied he could hear the faint
+murmur of voices. This proceeded from the boat-house, wherein Hill
+moored the moat punt. "I'll just make a reconnaissance in force," said
+Gus, putting down his rod. Arrived at the punt-house, Gus peeped in
+through the slightly open door, and discovered no less important
+personages than Runjit Mehtah and "Burnt Lamb." The two dervishes were
+lolling luxuriantly on the punt cushions, each smoking a fine fat cigar,
+and the combined efforts of the two gave quite an Oriental air of
+magnificence to the ramshackle boat-house.
+
+"Hallo!" said Gus. "What the deuce are you doing?"
+
+The cigars nearly fell from the mouth of each of the smokers as Gus
+appeared on the scene, but when the smokers made out Todd's face
+through the haze, Mehtah said, with much relief--
+
+"Oh, talking."
+
+"That isn't quite a true bill," said Gus. "Your Flora Fina de Cabbagios
+keep the fish from biting."
+
+"Have one," said Burnt Lamb, hospitably offering Todd a cigar.
+
+"No thanks. Is this punt-house your usual lounge?"
+
+"Sometimes," said Mehtah. "We can't do without our smoke, and we can't
+do it, you know, at the school."
+
+"No, that you jolly well can't, my dusky Othello. But aren't you two
+booked for the Houser's this afternoon? I thought you were the backbone
+of Biffen's."
+
+"The match is not for an hour yet," said Lamb.
+
+"Oh yes," said Mehtah, "we're going to sit on your house this afternoon,
+Todd."
+
+At this most interesting point of the conversation the door of the
+punt-house was violently slammed to, and Gus was propelled forward clean
+into the punt and received hurriedly into the unexpectant arms of Burnt
+Lamb. Before any of the three could understand what had happened there
+was a hurried fumbling with the staple and pin of the punt-house door
+from the outside, and then an equally hurried retreat of footsteps.
+
+"Well, I'm hanged!" said Gus, after he had picked himself up and tried
+the door. "We're locked in."
+
+Young Rogers and Wilson, who had done this fell deed, hoped there was
+no doubt about the locking. This couple of ornaments had immediately
+after dinner snatched their caps and ran on past the Lodestone Farm for
+a particular purpose. They had found a yellowhammer's nest a day or so
+before, containing one solitary egg, and their hurried run was for the
+purpose of seeing if there was any increase, and if so--well, the usual
+result. They were anxious to get back to the cricket-field in time to
+shout and generally give their house a leg-up when the Houser with
+Taylor's commenced, and their friend Grim had strict orders to bag them
+each seats, front row, in the pavilion. They had been busy blowing eggs
+for pretty well twenty minutes, and, as they were lazily returning
+schoolwards, they caught sight of Gus watching his float.
+
+"There's Gus Todd trying to hook tiddlers," said Rogers.
+
+"Shy a stone," suggested Wilson, "and wake 'em up."
+
+"Rot! There's no cover."
+
+"It's only Todd," said Wilson. "What's the odds?"
+
+"Yes, but not quite the old ass. Better get home."
+
+Keeping well out of sight, the two cronies had watched with curiosity
+Todd's manoeuvres as he tried to run the cigar-smokers to earth. When
+Gus entered the punt-house, a bright idea struck Wilson.
+
+"Say, Rogers, remember Toddy locking us in the laboratory last term? Two
+hundred Virgil."
+
+"Ah!" said Rogers, catching the meaning of Wilson's remark instanter;
+"if we only could cork him up there for the afternoon! That would pay
+him out for Merishall's call-over lines."
+
+"We'll chance it," said Wilson. "If we can't do it, well, we didn't know
+Gussy was in--eh?"
+
+"Rather! That is the exact fable we'll serve out to Todd, if necessary."
+
+Breaking cover, the young Biffenites had secured the door of the
+punt-house without any difficulty, and then had run for dear life.
+
+"Golly!" said Rogers, pulling up when well out of sight of the
+boat-house; "we did that rather neat, eh? Hanged if Toddy wasn't smoking
+like a chimney. Did you twig his weed?"
+
+"Regular stench," said Wilson. "Toddy will have to swim out through the
+front way, or howl for help. The punt is sure to be locked."
+
+"He'll have to take a header off the punt into the moat, and that isn't
+crystal, exactly."
+
+"Six yards of mud is about the figure," said Wilson, almost
+hysterically.
+
+"I say, old man, if we'd only been able to bottle up Jim Cotton along
+with his chum! What price Biffen's for the Houser, then?"
+
+"_If_" said Wilson, wistfully. "Wouldn't the dervishes walk into
+Taylor's bowling, if Bully wasn't there to sling them in?"
+
+"Never mind," said Rogers, hardly daring to contemplate the ravishing
+prospect of Taylor's house without Cotton, "the dervishes are sure to
+come out strong this afternoon. Let 'em once get their eye in, and
+either of 'em is good enough for a hundred."
+
+The two young Biffenites found the faithful Grim holding the fort in the
+front bench of the pavilion against the ardent assaults of some
+Taylorian juniors, who could not see what Grim wanted with three seats.
+The fellows of the two houses were rapidly lining up for the match, and
+Dick Worcester had sent to Biffen's making affectionate inquiries for
+the dervishes. By-and-by, word was brought to Worcester that the two
+were not to be found in the neighbourhood; and a further hurried search
+by anxious Biffenites, headed by Rogers and Wilson, had a like result.
+
+"Isn't it awful, Grimmy?" said Rogers. "Where can the idiots be?"
+
+Worcester and Acton had a consultation. "If they don't turn up in time
+we'll have to make a start without 'em."
+
+"If we have to go in we may give 'em up. We can't bat substitutes."
+
+"No fear!" said Dick. "Cotton isn't likely to hear of that, and,
+besides, it's just like the rotten thing you might expect from those
+niggers."
+
+Acton smiled. "All right, old chap. Put in Grim and Rogers in their
+place. The little beggars will be as keen as mustard."
+
+So Grim and Rogers had the honour of representing their house, since the
+dervishes did not turn up. Rogers, when he shut the door on Todd, did
+not guess that he had shut up Biffen's crack bats too. That Biffen's
+lost the match, and made no sort of show against Cotton's bowling, may
+also, perhaps, be attributed to the inadvertent imprisonment of Mehtah
+and "Lamb."
+
+The imprisoned trio had not had a very lively time that afternoon in the
+punt-house. The door remained obstinately shut, and neither Todd nor his
+two companions relished a swim in the moat as the price of freedom. The
+dervishes took matters very calmly; the desire to play for Biffen's was
+not strong enough to counterbalance the natural shrinking from a header
+into the duckweed and a run home in wet clothes. Singh Ram had a final
+try at the door, and then murmured--so Gus said--"Kismet," and relit his
+half-smoked cigar. Todd, indeed, shouted lustily; but when he realized
+that by contributing to the escape of the dervishes he might contribute
+to the downfall of his own house, he stopped himself in the middle of an
+unearthly howl. For three hours Gus remained a half-voluntary prisoner;
+but, when he judged it safe, he created such a pandemonium that young
+Hill hurried out of the farm stable, thinking there must be some weird
+tragedy taking place at the punt-house. He had hurried across and let
+the trio out.
+
+The dervishes got a mixed reception from Biffen's crowd. Worcester was
+almost eloquent in his language, and Acton was calmly indifferent.
+
+"But I tell you, Worcester, some beast locked us in the punt-house."
+
+"I wish they'd kept you there," said Dick, unmollified.
+
+Whilst Worcester was swallowing his tea, Rogers and Wilson craved
+audience. Their faces were as long as fiddles.
+
+"Oh, Worcester!" began Rogers, tremulously, "we've come to tell you that
+it was we who lost Biffen's the houser."
+
+"Why, Wilson didn't play, and you caught Cotton," said Dick, astonished.
+
+"But we locked the dervishes in the punt-house--we thought there was
+only Todd inside."
+
+"Oh, you did, you little beggars, did you?" said Worcester, considering
+the doleful and grief-stricken Biffenites. "Well, here's a shilling for
+each of you if you keep it dark. I'm deucedly glad the dervishes didn't
+play. I'd rather lose a dozen housers than feel the niggers were
+indispensable. Now, cut; and next time you bottle 'em up, see they don't
+get out."
+
+"Golly!" said Rogers, as the two left Worcester to his tea. "I suppose
+the sun's affected Worcester's brain."
+
+Whilst the dervishes were explaining matters to Worcester the other
+prisoner was elbowing his way into the crowd around the Fifth Form
+notice-board, whereon were pinned the final lists. Jim Cotton was
+planted squarely before the board, eyeing the contents with huge
+delight, and when he caught sight of the struggling Gus he haled him
+vigorously forward.
+
+"Here you are, Gus! By Jove, Toddy, you've done it this time, you old
+Perry fizzler!"
+
+Gus eyed the list with delighted eyes.
+
+This is what he saw: "First--Todd, A.V.R.--history medal, and chemistry
+prize."
+
+Need I say anything more of either Todd or Cotton? Todd entered the
+Sixth when the summer holidays were over, and Phil Bourne writes me
+often and tells me what a big gun Todd is in the schools. Jim Cotton was
+entered upon the roll-call of some celebrated "crammer" near the Crystal
+Palace. If crammers' hearts _could_ be broken, Jim, I should say, will
+accomplish the feat. But if ever James Cotton _does_ get into the Army
+he will never disgrace his regiment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+THE END OF THE FEUD
+
+
+Thoroughly satisfied with himself and all the world, Acton had on the
+last Saturday of the term--the election for the captaincy was to be held
+that night--left the cricket field to the enthusiasts, and turned his
+feet towards the old Lodestone Farm, the road he knew so well. He wanted
+to be alone with his happy thoughts. He was more than satisfied with
+himself, and, as he walked along, he mowed down with his ash-plant
+thistles and nettles in sheer joyfulness of heart. His long feud with
+Bourne would come to a joyful end that night. Mivart's election was
+certain, and Mivart's election would pay for all--for the loss of the
+"footer" cap, and for that terrible half-hour after Bourne had knocked
+him out, when he felt himself almost going mad from hatred, rage,
+disgust, and defeat. He had engineered his schemes beautifully; his
+revenge would be as perfect. The loss of the captaincy would be a
+bitter, bitter pill for Bourne to swallow.
+
+Whilst he strode on, engrossed with these pleasant thoughts, he fancied
+he heard shouts and cries somewhere in the distance behind him. He
+turned round, and down the long stretch of white road he saw a cloud of
+dust rolling with terrific speed towards him. For one moment he wondered
+whatever was the matter, but out of the dust he could see the flashing
+of carriage-wheels, the glitter of harness, and the shining coats of a
+couple of horses. The carriage came rocking towards him at a terrible
+rate, sometimes the wheels on one side off the road altogether; the
+horses had their heads up, and Acton could hear their terrified snorting
+as they thundered towards him.
+
+"A runaway!" said Acton, backing into the hedge. "They'll come a cropper
+at the little bridge. What a smash there'll be!" As the runaway horses,
+galloping like the furies, came nearer, Acton saw something which made
+his blood run cold. "Jove!" he cried, darting out from the hedge,
+"there's a lady in the carriage!" Acton was almost frozen with the
+horror of the thing. "She'll be smashed to pieces at the bridge."
+
+Acton glanced to the little bridge half a mile down the long white road,
+where the road narrowed to meet the low stone walls, and he knew as well
+as though he saw it that the carriage would catch the bridge and be
+shivered to match-wood. The horses must be stopped before they reached
+it, or the lady would be killed. Now Acton, with all his faults, was no
+coward. Without thinking of the terrible risk he ran, he sprang out into
+the middle of the road and waved his arms frantically at the horses
+moving like a thunderbolt towards him. But they were too maddened with
+terror to heed this waving apparition in their path, and Acton, in the
+very nick of time, just jumped aside and avoided the carriage-pole,
+pointed like a living lance at his breast.
+
+[Illustration: AS THE HORSES WHIRLED PAST, HE CLUTCHED MADLY AT THE
+LOOSE REINS.]
+
+As the horses whirled past, he clutched madly at the loose reins,
+see-sawing in the air. He held them, and the leather slid through his
+frenzied grasp, cutting his palms to the bone. When he reached the loop
+he was jerked off his feet with a terrible shock, and was whirled along
+the dusty road, the carriage-wheels grinding, crunching, and skidding
+within a foot of his head. Luckily the reins held, and when, after being
+dragged a hundred yards or so, and half choked by the thick dust, he
+managed to scramble to his feet, he pulled with frenzied, convulsive
+strength on the off-side rein. The horses swerved to the fearful saw on
+their jaws, and pulled nearly into the left-hand hedge. Acton's
+desperate idea was to overturn the carriage into the hedge before the
+horses could reach the bridge, for he felt he could no more pull them up
+than he dare let them go. There was just a chance for the lady if she
+were overturned into the bank or hedge, but none whatever if she were
+thrown at the bridge. In a minute or so the carriage lurched horribly
+sideways: there was a grinding crash, and the carriage overturned bodily
+into the bank. The lady was shot out, and the next minute the horses'
+hoofs were making tooth-picks of the wrecked carriage.
+
+Acton darted up the bank and found the lady dazed and bruised, but was
+overjoyed to see she wasn't dead. "Are you much hurt?"
+
+"No, I don't think so," she said, with a brave smile; "but I expected
+to be killed any moment. You are a brave man, sir, to risk your life for
+a stranger."
+
+Acton said quietly, "Not at all; but I think I was very lucky to turn
+them in time."
+
+In a minute or two there was a small crowd. Half a dozen stray cyclists
+had wheeled up, and with their help Acton got out the horses, dreadfully
+cut about the legs and shivering with terror, from the wreckage. Down
+the dusty road were men running for dear life, and ahead of all Acton
+caught sight of a well-known athletic figure running like a deer, and in
+another moment Phil Bourne was asking the lady in panting bursts if she
+were not really hurt.
+
+"No, Phil; not in the least. I owe my life to this gentleman, who pulled
+the horses into the bank before they could reach the bridge."
+
+Phil wheeled round, his face beaming with gratitude, but when he saw
+Acton, pale to the lips, the words of thankfulness froze on his lips.
+For one instant he stared at his old enemy with wonder and amazement,
+then, with a gesture of utter gratitude, he said--
+
+"Acton, I can never tell you how much I owe you for saving my mother's
+life, but will you shake hands?"
+
+Acton looked at Bourne, whose face beamed with admiration and gratitude,
+and then he put out his hand. In that moment, so honourable to them
+both, the feud was stamped out for ever. Fresh as he was from as
+glorious a deed as any Amorian had ever done, he realized that he had
+been a blackguard towards Bourne the moment Phil begged him to shake
+hands.
+
+Phil murmured almost inarticulate words of gratitude; but Acton, more
+than a trifle disturbed at his own thoughts, interrupted hastily--
+
+"Say no more about it, please, Bourne. You'd have done as much for any
+one."
+
+"Your hands are bleeding," said Phil, with immense concern.
+
+"Nothing at all. I think the reins cut them."
+
+Mrs. Bourne _would_ bind them. "Of course!" said she. "How blind of me
+not to see that this gentleman is one of your schoolfellows, Phil."
+
+"Mother," said Phil, "this is John Acton."
+
+"I've heard Phil talk about your wonderful win at Aldershot. I suppose
+you're great friends?"
+
+The "great friends" looked on the ground rather guiltily, but Phil cut
+in with--
+
+"I say, Acton, you must come and have tea with mother and me in my den.
+Can you?"
+
+Acton said quietly, "All right, Bourne. Thanks, awfully." Then he added
+under his breath to Phil, "If I can come as a friend?"
+
+"On that condition," said Phil, "I'd like you to come."
+
+The trio walked back along the road--a happy trio they were, too--and a
+melancholy procession of injured horses and an angry coachman closed
+their rear. The tea in Bourne's room was very successful, and I should
+fancy that Hinton did more hard thinking and hard staring when he saw
+Acton amicably seated with his feet under Bourne's table than he ever
+did before. The minute he had permission, he flew down the corridor, and
+exploded bombshell after bombshell among wondering Amorians.
+
+"Acton and Bourne teaing together like two birds on a bough!" he gasped.
+
+"That would be a funny sight," said Cherry. "Birds don't take tea."
+
+"Write an epilogue, Fruity. Teaing together as friendly as Grim and I
+might."
+
+"Only that," said W.E. Grim, with a genial wink, "my opinion is, that
+Hinton's been on the drink, and seen double."
+
+Incredulity and wonder were the dominant notes among Amorians for the
+next two hours.
+
+Acton and Phil walked to the station with Mrs. Bourne, and when she had
+gone to town, and the pair were returning schoolwards, Acton said
+thoughtfully--
+
+"Look here, Bourne. Don't know quite what it was that made me feel so
+cheap when you rushed to thank me for helping your mater. I felt very
+small."
+
+"If that's so, you'll feel cheaper and smaller when pater sees you. I'd
+have those hands cured first."
+
+"Bourne," said Acton, very seriously, "I've been an arrant cad since
+I've come to St. Amory's, and if those horses hadn't bolted with your
+mater I should never have seen in you anything but a strait-laced prig,
+as I've all along thought you. I have, really. But that's all changed
+now, and I'm going to dry up. I suppose you know you aren't popular
+among the fellows generally?"
+
+"Rather!" said Phil, gloomily.
+
+"And you know that you owe all this to me?"
+
+"Only too well, Acton."
+
+"Well, I'm going to make what amends I can. Have you any objection to my
+proposing you as captain to-night?"
+
+"Acton, you are a brick," said Phil, "but you're too late now. I don't
+stand a ghost of a chance against Mivart."
+
+"And I'll get Mivart to second you. I can put all the fellows straight
+concerning you, and, by Jove, it's the least I can do! I'll make a clean
+breast of it to them all to-night before the election comes on."
+
+"Oh no, you won't! I'd rather lose the captaincy than that. Besides,
+Aspinall asked me not to do anything bar refuse you your cap."
+
+"I've been an insufferable cad," said Acton, with a hot blush, "but you
+shall be captain in any case."
+
+Acton saw Mivart, and whether he told him the whole history of his
+quarrel with Bourne or not, I cannot say; anyhow, Acton prevailed on him
+to second Phil. Mivart was a very good fellow, as I said before, and he
+thoroughly believed that Bourne would make a better captain than he
+himself would, so he said he would be delighted to back Phil up to any
+extent, since Phil was not now the jealous bounder he had so long been
+considered.
+
+I myself, as the retiring captain, took the chair in the Sixth Form
+room to see the election of my successor through with all due solemnity.
+Acton got up, and though he was very nervous, he said out straight what
+he had resolved to say.
+
+"I propose Phil Bourne for captain in place of Carr, and I'll tell you
+why. I consider him the most suitable fellow to take our old captain's
+place. Many of you may be--will be--surprised to hear me propose Bourne,
+for between us two, as you all know, there has been no love lost. But in
+all the dreary business I have been the utter cad and Bourne the other
+thing. He brought upon himself any amount of bad feeling because he
+would not give me my 'footer' cap. I did not deserve it"--some one here
+said "rot!" emphatically--"not because I wasn't good enough a player,
+but for another reason, which, much as I should shy at telling you, I
+would tell, only Bourne begged me not to. It is his and Carr's and
+another fellow's secret as much as mine, so I feel I had better not say
+it. But, believe me, in the business I was an utter cad, and instead of
+bringing all that row about my cap upon Bourne's head, I ought to have
+burned my boots, and never kicked a football again. There's another
+matter, this time strictly between Bourne and self, in which I did him
+as big an injury as one fellow can do another. He gave me a sound
+thrashing for it on the morning that you fellows went away last term,
+and Carr and Vercoe here assisted us in our little mill. No one ever
+deserved a thrashing as I deserved that one, and now I'm glad I got it.
+It was Bourne's only score against me. Fact is," said Acton, with a grim
+smile, "I'd rather meet another Jarvis than Bourne."
+
+The fellows opened their eyes, and wondered what next.
+
+"This term I've worked the whole school, and especially you monitors,
+against Bourne, to make his chance of getting the captaincy a very rocky
+one. And I think I pretty well succeeded. You all liked Bourne before I
+appeared on the scene, with good reason, and I do hope you will all give
+him your votes, for, and I say it absolutely sure of its truth, the best
+fellow in St. Amory's is Bourne. That is all I can say."
+
+Mivart got up before the fellows had time to recover from their
+astonishment, and said--
+
+"I have great pleasure in seconding Acton's proposal. I, too, consider
+Bourne out and out the best fellow to take Carr's place. Whilst Phil was
+under a cloud I was willing to stand for captain, but since we all know
+now that he stands where he did, the only proper thing to do is to give
+him the unanimous vote, for I do not mean to stand at all."
+
+The fellows blankly voted for Bourne, and, as Grim would be sure to say,
+"the proposition was carried _nem. con_."
+
+That evening Corker confirmed Phil's appointment, and I spent as happy
+an evening as I can remember. Acton said he should not come back to St.
+Amory's again, as his record was too black to be used as a convenient
+reference, but Phil and I and all the fellows told him we should be
+only too glad to let bygones be bygones, and that he had really done the
+square thing at the last.
+
+He did come back, and Phil's letters to me tell me that his old enemy is
+one of the most popular--deservedly--in the school, and his best friend.
+They are inseparable, play back together at "footer," and are variously
+called Gemini, Damon and Pythias, David and Jonathan, as the case may
+be.
+
+Biffen's are still cock-house at "footer;" Acton is going in again for
+the "heavy"--this time without the Coon's help--and those "niggers,"
+Singh Ram and Runjit Mehtah, to Worcester's intense disgust, are the
+representatives of St. Amory's in gymnastics; and, altogether, Biffen's
+House is, thanks to Acton's help, perhaps the most distinguished in the
+school.
+
+
+
+
+ACTON'S CHRISTMAS
+
+I
+
+SNOWED UP
+
+
+A jollier going away for the Christmas holidays had not taken place for
+an age.
+
+An old Amorian had done "something good" in India, which had obtained an
+extra week's holiday for his old school, and the Amorians, a day or so
+before, had beaten the Carthusians, whose forwards had been led to the
+slaughter by an International whose very initials spell unapproachable
+football.
+
+The station of St. Amory's was crowded with the fellows, all sporting
+rugs of vivid patterns on their arms, and new and of-the-latest-shape
+"bowlers" on their heads, and new and fancy trouserings on their
+emancipated legs. No more Amorian cap--peak pointing well down the
+neck--no more trouserings of sober grey-and-black, no more beakish
+restraint for five weeks! Couples strolled up and down arm-in-arm; knots
+of the Sixth and Fifth discussed matters of high state interest, and the
+worthies of the lower forms made the lives of the perspiring porters a
+misery and a burden to them. Prominent Amorians were cheered, and when
+those old enemies, John Acton and Phil Bourne, tumbled out of their cab
+as the greatest of chums, the fags quavered out their shrill rejoicings,
+honouring the famous school backs who had stemmed the sweeping rush of
+the Carthusians a day or so before.
+
+There was a rumour that Acton had been asked to play for the
+Corinthians, and the other athletes on the platform pressed round the
+pair for information.
+
+Our old friends, Wilson and Jack Bourne, had shut up by stratagem B.A.M.
+Cherry in the lamp-room, and the piteous pleadings of that young
+Biffenite were listened to with ecstacy by a crowd of a dozen, who
+hailed the promises and threats of the prisoner with shouts of mocking
+laughter.
+
+W.E. Grim, Esq., explained to a few of his particular chums, Rogers
+among them, the wonderful shooting he was going to have "up at Acton's
+place" in Yorkshire, and they listened with visible envy.
+
+"Look here, Grimmy, if you tell us next term that you bagged two
+woodcock with one barrel, we'll boot you all round Biffen's yard--so
+there."
+
+Acton had, as a matter of fact, invited Dick Worcester, Gus Todd, Jack
+Senior, of Merishall's house, and Grim, to spend Christmas with him at
+his mother's place, and they had all accepted with alacrity.
+
+The northern express rolled into the station, and Grim was hurriedly
+informed by Rogers that he was to bag the end carriage for Acton under
+pain of death. Grim tore down the platform, and, encouraged by the
+cheerful Rogers, performed prodigies of valour, told crams to groups of
+disgusted Amorians, who went sighing to search elsewhere for room,
+engaged in single combat with one of Sharpe's juniors, and generally
+held the fort. And then, when Acton came running down, and wanted to
+know what the deuce he was keeping him waiting for, Grim realized that
+Rogers had "done" him to a turn. He shouted weird threats as he was
+hurried away, to the bubbling Rogers, and that young gentleman lifted
+his hat in ironical acknowledgment. There was the warning shriek from
+the engine, and then the train crawled out, taking toll of all the
+Amorians going north, and leaving the others to shout after them
+endearing epithets and clinching witticisms.
+
+For two days before the Amorians were on the wing home there had been
+heavy falls of snow, culminating, on the going-away day, in a heavy
+snow-storm. All the way from St. Amory's the express had been held up by
+doubtful signals, and in the deeper cuttings the snow had piled up in
+huge drifts. The express had toiled on its northern journey, steadily
+losing time at every point. At Preston Acton had telegraphed home that
+probably they would arrive quite three hours late. Thus it was that,
+tired but jolly, the party of five Amorians got out of the main line
+express at Lowbay, and, each laden with rugs and magazines, stumbled
+light-heartedly across the snow-sodden platform into the local train,
+which had waited for the express nearly three hours. They found
+themselves sixteen miles from home, and with no prospect of reaching it
+before midnight.
+
+"Raven Crag," the name of Acton's home, was situated just within the
+borders of Yorkshire. A single line of rails takes you from Lowbay
+Junction up the Westmoreland hills to the top of the heaviest gradient
+in the kingdom, and then hurtles you down into the little wayside
+station of Lansdale, the station for "Raven Crag."
+
+The sturdy tank engine coupled to the short local train was steaming
+steadily and noisily, and when the express had rolled heavily out for
+Carlisle, the station-master hastily beat up intending passengers for
+the branch line. Besides Acton's party, there were only two passengers,
+a lady and a little girl.
+
+"I'll give the old tank a good half-hour to crawl the eight miles to the
+top of the fells," said Acton, "and then we'll rattle into Lansdale in
+ten minutes. But she _will_ cough as she crawls up. Look here, Dick,
+I'll have a whole rug, please. This carriage is as cold as a
+refrigerator."
+
+The fellows made themselves as comfortable as an unlimited supply of
+rugs and a couple of foot-warmers would admit of. Dick Worcester,
+without a blush, propped his head against a window and said: "Grim,
+there's a lingering death for you if you fail to wake me five minutes
+from Lansdale." The others exchanged magazines and yawned hopefully,
+whilst Acton took out his Kipling, and straightway forgot snow, home,
+and friends.
+
+The station master, and the driver, and the guard held an animated
+conversation round the engine. "Strikes me, Bill, the old engine'll
+never get t' top of t' bank to-night!" said the guard. "The snow must be
+terrible thick in Hudson's cutting."
+
+"She'll do it," said the driver,--"wi' luck."
+
+"Got another engine with steam up," inquired the guard, "to give us a
+lift behind?"
+
+"No, they're all shut down, and we couldn't wait now. You'll have to run
+her through yourselves," said the station-master. "Nearly four hours
+late already! Off with you!"
+
+"I'm doubting we can't do it," said the guard, thoughtfully. "To-night is
+the worst night I can remember for years. The expresses could just
+manage it."
+
+"Oh, well," said the driver, "we're down to run it, and we're going to
+try."
+
+"There'll be drifts twenty feet deep in the cutting, and it'll be like
+running into a house," said the guard, slowly, "but I suppose we've got
+to try, anyhow."
+
+He walked away thoughtfully to his van, and a moment later there was a
+shrill whistle, and the Lansdale local ran out into the night.
+
+And it _was_ a night! There was no moon, and not the least glimmer of a
+star overhead; an utter darkness shrouded the world. The wind was high
+and steady, and its mournful howling through the rocky cuttings of the
+railway sounded unspeakably melancholy. Driven by the gale, the
+snowflakes had in five minutes covered the windward side of the train
+with a winding-sheet, inches deep, and when Gus Todd, from curiosity,
+opened the window to peer out into the night, the flakes, heavy, large,
+and soft, whirled into the carriage a very cataract of snow.
+
+"Don't, Gus, please," pleaded Acton, looking up from his book in
+astonishment at the snow glittering in the lamp-light; "I prefer that
+outside, thanks."
+
+"It's an awful storm, Acton," said Gus, hastily drawing up the window.
+"Allah! how it snows!"
+
+"Is this up to the usual sample here?" asked Senior, nestling nearer the
+dozing Dick.
+
+"Well," said Acton, listening a moment to the stroke of the engine, and
+the roar of the wind, "I think we may say it is."
+
+"Blizzard seems nearer the word, old man. The flakes come at you like
+snowballs."
+
+"Shan't be sorry when we tread your ancestral halls. This weather is
+too-too for comfort. And don't we crawl!"
+
+"We're rising," said Acton, "and it is uphill work. Hear the old tank
+groaning?"
+
+In fact, the train, labouring up the heavy gradient, did barely more
+than crawl through the snow and wind, and the slow beat of the engine
+told how hard it was even to do that. Acton added thoughtfully, "We've
+quite four miles yet to the summit, and there's a chance we mayn't----"
+
+"Mayn't what, Acton, please?" said Grim, putting down his magazine.
+
+"Get there, Grimmy."
+
+"To the top? Oh, rot!" said Senior.
+
+"I can't quite remember such a crawl as this, Jack; listen how the
+engine coughs."
+
+"If we can't get to the top of the incline--what then?" asked Grim.
+
+"Go back, I should say."
+
+"To Lowbay?"
+
+"Yes. But while we _do_ crawl there's no need to fret."
+
+"That would mean goodbye for the present to your place, old man?"
+
+"Yes. 'Twould be a horrid nuisance, wouldn't it?"
+
+The Amorians listened anxiously to the engine toiling up the incline;
+but the howling of the wind almost drowned every other sound. The pace
+was still a crawl, but it was a steady one.
+
+"Oh! she'll worry through after all," said Acton.
+
+Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the train pulled up with a
+jerk that sent Senior and Grim flying forward into the unexpectant arms
+of the dozing Dick and Gus Todd. The luggage rattled out of the rack in
+instantaneous response, and whilst all the fellows were staring blankly
+at each other they heard the crunching of the brake, and felt that the
+train had come to a dead stop.
+
+"What ever is the matter?" gasped Worcester, quite wide awake by now.
+
+"We've landed into a drift, I fancy," said Acton, "and there's no home
+for us to-night. What beastly luck!"
+
+There was now no sound but the roaring of the storm; the engine gave no
+sign that they could hear, and Acton impatiently let down the window,
+but was instantly almost blinded by the snow, which whirled through the
+open window. Crossing over, he tried the other with better success, and
+the first thing he saw was the guard, waist deep in snow, trying to make
+his way forward, and holding his lamp well before him. "What's happened,
+guard?" he asked.
+
+"Matter!--why, we're off the line for one thing, and----"
+
+Forward, they could hear the shouts of the driver above the hiss of
+escaping steam.
+
+"Let me have your cap, Grim," said Acton, all energy in a moment. "I'm
+going forward to see what is up. Back in a minute."
+
+He slipped out carefully, but seeing the predicament of the guard, he
+did not jump out into the snow, but advanced carefully along the
+footboards, feeling his way forward by the brass-work of the carriages.
+To the leeward the bulk of the train gave comparative shelter from the
+fury of the storm, and Acton was in a minute abreast of the guard,
+floundering heavily in the drifts.
+
+"This is a better way, guard. Take my hand, and I'll pull you up."
+
+"All right, sir. Here's the lamp."
+
+Acton's hand closed on the guard's wrist, and in a moment the young
+athlete had the man beside him. Together they made their way forward,
+and by the light of the lamp they saw what had happened. The engine had
+taken a drift edge-way, had canted up, and then rolled over against the
+walls of the cutting. Luckily, the carriages had kept the rails. The
+driver was up to his neck in the snow, but the fireman was not visible.
+
+Acton availed himself of the overturned engine, which was making
+unearthly noises, and reached out a hand for the driver. The latter
+clutched it, and scrambled out.
+
+"Where's your mate?"
+
+"Tom jumped the other way, sir."
+
+Acton swung the lamp round, sending its broad sheet of light into the
+driving snow. For a moment he could see nothing but the dazzling white
+floor, but next instant perceived the fireman, whose head rested against
+the horizontal wheel of the overturned engine.
+
+"This man is hurt," he said, when he saw a crimson stain on the snow.
+"Take the lamp, guard."
+
+Acton clambered over the short tender, seized the man by the shoulder,
+and, with an immense effort of strength, pulled him partly up. The man
+gave no signs of life.
+
+"Bear a hand, driver, will you? He's too much for me alone."
+
+The driver hastily scrambled beside Acton, and in a minute or so they
+had the insensible man between them.
+
+"He hurt himself as he jumped," said Acton, looking with concern at a
+gaping cut over the man's eye. "Anyhow, our first business is to bring
+him round."
+
+It was a weary business lifting the unconscious fireman into an empty
+compartment, and still more weary work to bring him round, but at last
+this was done. Acton tore up his handkerchief, and with melted snow
+washed clean the ugly cut on his forehead, and then left the fireman in
+charge of his mate.
+
+"We'll have to roost here, sir, all night. There's no getting out of
+this cutting, nohow. Thank you, sir; I'll see to Tom."
+
+Acton and the guard made their way back to the rear of the train, where
+the Amorians were awaiting their schoolfellow with impatience and
+anxiety.
+
+"The engine is off the rails and the stoker is damaged above a bit,"
+said Acton, seriously, "and we're fixtures here until the company comes
+and digs us out. There's only one thing to do: we must make ourselves as
+comfy as possible for the night. I must see that lady, though, before we
+do anything for ourselves. Back in a moment."
+
+Acton sallied out once more and devoted a good ten minutes to explaining
+matters to the very horrified and nervous lady and her tearful little
+twelve-year-old girl.
+
+"I'll bring you some cushions, and I'll steal Dick Worcester's pillow
+for the little girl," he explained cheerfully. "You have one rug, I see.
+We can spare you a couple more. No danger at all, really, But isn't it
+really horrid? We have not a morsel of food to offer you, but I dare say
+you can, if you don't worry over it, put up with a makeshift bed--only
+for one night, I'm sure."
+
+Acton relieved Dick Worcester--who plumed himself on his pillow--of
+that article, and one of Senior's rugs.
+
+On his return he confronted the dubious looks of his chums with his
+invincible cheerfulness.
+
+"Now, you fellows! we're to sleep here. Two on a seat is the order, and
+one on the floor, that's me. Dicky, darling, please don't roll off your
+perch. We've plenty of rugs and overcoats: enough to stock Nansen, Grim,
+so we shan't all wake up frozen to death."
+
+Gus Todd smiled dutifully at this bull.
+
+The guard came with a modest request.
+
+"Can you roost with us? Oh! certainly. Bag another cushion for the
+floor, and then you're all right. More, the merrier; and let the
+ventilation go hang. If Mr. Worcester doesn't fall on you, guard, I dare
+say you'll live to tell the tale."
+
+The Amorians, who trusted to Acton as they would have trusted to no one
+else on earth, entered into the fun of the thing, and the last joke of
+the night was a solemn warning to Grim from Dick Worcester to avoid
+snoring, as he valued his life.
+
+"We can manage like this for one night, anyhow," whispered Acton to the
+guard, "for we really keep each other warm. We'll get out of this
+to-morrow."
+
+The guard did not reply to this for fully a minute. He whispered back,
+"Listen to the wind, sir. The storm isn't half over yet. I've got my
+doubts about to-morrow. We're snowed up for more'n a day."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+OVER THE FELLS
+
+
+When day dawned, and the snowed-up travellers began to look around them,
+they found that, though the snow was not descending nearly as heavily as
+on the night before, the wind was still strong and the weather bitterly
+cold.
+
+On the windward side of the train the snow had drifted almost up to the
+window panes, but on the leeward there was considerably less. Looking up
+and down the line, they could see their train surrounded by its dazzling
+environment, and the drifts were so high that they had filled the low
+cutting stretching towards Lowbay level to its top.
+
+The train was an island in a sea of snow.
+
+The Amorians, stiff and cramped with their narrow quarters of the night,
+dropped off into the snow on the sheltered side and explored as far as
+the overturned engine, now stark and cold, with wonder and awe.
+
+"Why, we're like rats in a trap!" exclaimed Gus Todd.
+
+"We'll have a council of war now," said Acton, as he saw the driver and
+his mate floundering towards them, "and then we can see what's to be
+done--if anything can be done."
+
+It seemed the result of the council was to be the decision that there
+was nothing to be done. To go back to Lowbay, or forward to Lansdale,
+was plainly impossible, and neither guard nor driver thought they could
+be ploughed out under two days at the earliest. "And yet," concluded
+Acton, "we can't starve and freeze for two days. Look here, guard, isn't
+there a fell farm somewhere hereabouts? I begin to fancy----"
+
+"There's one over the hills yonder, three or four miles away. Might as
+well be three hundred, for they'll never dream of our being snowed up
+here."
+
+"Well, but can't we go to them, if you know the way?"
+
+"That's just what I don't know, with all this snow about. The farm is
+behind that hill somewhere; but I could no more take you there than fly.
+Besides, who could wade up to their necks in snow for half a mile, let
+alone three?"
+
+"But the snow won't be so deep on the fells as in these cuttings."
+
+"That's true, I suppose. But get into a drift on the fell--and, Lord,
+that would be easy enough--you're done. And there's becks deep enough to
+drown a man, and you'll never see them till you're up to your chin in
+their icy waters. I wouldn't chance it for anything. We mun wait here
+till we're dug out, sir, and that's all about it."
+
+"Where is that farm, guard? Behind which shoulder of the fell?"
+
+"Look here, Acton," began Dick Worcester, apprehensively, "I'm hanged if
+we're going to let you go groping about for any blessed farm in this
+storm. We'll eat the coals in the tender first!"
+
+"Thanks, Dick. Which shoulder, guard?"
+
+The man explained as fully and elaborately as if he might as well talk
+as think. The shoulder of the fell was noted by Acton exactly and
+carefully, even to borrowing a compass pendant off Todd's historic
+watch--chain.
+
+"It lies exactly N.N.E., and one could find one's way in the dark if
+that were all."
+
+"But it isn't, Acton," said Grim, anxiously, "not by a long chalk. Oh,
+Acton, don't go!"
+
+"I'm going to turn over the idea, Grim. But, anyhow, I don't stir out of
+this cutting until the snow's out of the sky."
+
+Acton and the guard talked long and seriously, whilst the Amorians put
+into practical working Senior's idea of a fire beside the van. There
+were coals galore.
+
+Half an hour afterwards the snow ceased. "Now," said Acton, quietly, "I
+know exactly where that farm is. I'm going to go now and have a try for
+it. I'll move the farm people, if I reach 'em, double quick back again
+with food, for they're used to these fells, and then we can all go back
+to the farm together. The fact is," said Acton, hurriedly, as he saw a
+chorus of dissent about to break out, "we _must_ get out of this very
+soon. There's the lady and the child--and even more than that, there is
+the fireman, who is downright ill. We cannot wait till we're dug out;
+that is absolutely certain. I'm not going to run any danger, and if I
+find I'm likely to, I'm coming back. I fancy, really," he added,
+laughing, "that the most difficult part of the business will be to get
+out of this cutting."
+
+The fellows all knew Acton; they knew that when he said things in a
+certain tone there was no good arguing. That was why Grim, with a white
+face, hurriedly left stoking the blazing fire and retired in dismay to
+the guard's van, and why Gus Todd, in an access of angry impatience,
+shied the magazine he had been turning over into the middle of the
+flames.
+
+Jack Senior said, "This is just like you, Acton. You _will_ fight more
+than your share of bargees, but this time I'm going to go one and one
+with you. If you like to risk being drowned in those beastly moorland
+streams, or to fall into some thirty-feet drift, I'm going to go too.
+That is final. _Kismet_, etc.!"
+
+Acton looked narrowly at Senior. "All right, Jack. Get your coat on;
+but, honour bright, I'd rather go alone."
+
+"Couldn't do it, old man," said Senior, whilst Worcester nodded
+approvingly. "What would Phil Bourne say, if he heard we'd let you melt
+away into---- I'm going too."
+
+The passage out of the cutting was not so difficult as Acton had
+bargained for; but Worcester and Todd did wonders with the fireman's
+shovels and made a lane through the drifts. On the firm ground of the
+fell the two found that, though the snow was deep enough in all
+conscience, it was not to be compared with the drifts on the line. The
+wind now, as they started off, was whipping away the loose top layers of
+snow in cold white clouds, which stung the face and ears with their icy
+sharpness; but, with caps well down and coats buttoned up to the ears,
+the two trudged on. The snow had ceased, but it was plain, by the dark
+and lowering sky, that this might only be temporary, and Acton kept up
+as smart a pace as he could, heading right for the shoulder of the fell,
+a couple of miles away, behind which he might, if he were lucky, see
+that moorland farm. The hill ran down into a valley, towards which the
+two Amorians hurried, Acton keeping his ears well open for the faintest
+murmur of water.
+
+"There's a beck somewhere down here, Jack, but we'll not see it until
+we're almost into it. So look out!"
+
+"All serene! I'm on the _qui vive!_" Hardly were the words out of
+Senior's mouth than he stumbled headlong forward, the ground opening at
+his feet, and a narrow ribbon of cold grey water, silently sliding under
+its shrunken banks, caught Acton's eye. Senior had plumped cleanly into
+this. Luckily, it was not very deep, and he scrambled out to the other
+side drenched to the skin, and showing clearly enough, where he had
+broken through the snow on both sides, that all the care in the world
+would not prevent them repeating the experience. The snow overhung a
+yard. Acton had stopped dead when he saw Senior disappear, but in a
+moment he had sprung clear, and was helping his friend up the bank. The
+snow slipped silently into the stream as he jumped.
+
+"That's number one," said Senior, "and only half an hour from the train!
+Any more hereabouts?"
+
+"I fancy so, but we may have better luck next time."
+
+"Hope so. Set the pace, old man, please. It's b-b-beastly c-c-cold."
+
+Acton was thoroughly upset by this mishap, and he headed up the opposite
+slope of the hill with a face that showed how the incident had shaken
+him. Senior's teeth chattered, and he looked blue with cold. The two
+plodded on, Acton insisting on Senior keeping behind. Acton again had
+the unenviable pleasure of seeing some more of those icy waters, and
+their slow and deadly stealing under the snow seemed to him sinister and
+fatal as he pulled himself up on the brink. The care necessary, the
+cold, cutting wind, and the knee-deep snow, made their progress terribly
+slow, and Acton began to notice that Senior, despite his anxiety for a
+sharp pace, was already terribly fagged.
+
+The distance widened between the two, and once, when Acton turned round
+and found his friend nearly thirty yards behind, his heart almost
+stopped beating.
+
+"This will never do! Heaven help us if he cracks up!" He waited for the
+weary Senior, and then said gently, "Pace too hot, old fellow?"
+
+"Rather. So sorry, but you seem to run almost."
+
+"Run!" smiled Acton, bitterly. "Why, we're not doing a mile an hour.
+Put your heart into it, Jack, and for Heaven's sake don't let me get too
+much in front!"
+
+"All serene!" said Senior, gamely.
+
+To Acton's intense alarm, the snow had recommenced, and the wind swept
+it down the fells full into their faces. Acton was afraid that he might
+make a mistake if the snow became so heavy as to blot out the landscape,
+and, knowing that to do so might have terrible consequences, he
+nervously forced the pace.
+
+Senior responded gamely.
+
+"Keep well behind, old man. You'll dodge the snow better. Can you do a
+wee sprint? We're not far from the top of the ridge, and then we've only
+to work down the hill and bear to the left, and there we are."
+
+"Only!" said Senior, wearily. "How far?"
+
+"A bare mile. Step it out for all you're worth."
+
+By this time it was obvious that the storm had recommenced in all its
+fury, and Acton, in an ecstasy of horror and anxiety lest he should turn
+the shoulder of the hill too late to see anything of the farm, almost
+ran forward. He had thrust out his head, and his eyes anxiously peered
+forward. They were now almost on the top of the shoulder of the fell.
+Acton turned round with eagerness.
+
+"Five minutes more and we're---- He's gone!"
+
+Senior, indeed, was not in sight. With a groan of despair, Acton ran
+back down the slope.
+
+"Jack! Jack! Jack!" he howled above the wind, "Where are you?"
+
+There was no reply
+
+"He's lost!"
+
+Further down the slope ran Acton, shouting into the storm. He heard
+nothing; not a sound. Then, and his heart almost burst with joy, his eye
+caught sight of a moving, staggering figure, drifting aimlessly across
+his path. Senior, half his senses beaten out of him by cold, wet, the
+wind, and lack of food, looked at the screaming Acton with
+uncomprehending eyes, and was aimlessly shaking off his grasp to lounge
+easily to death.
+
+"He _has_ cracked up," said Acton, in despair, and he gripped the
+half-senseless youth with frenzied strength.
+
+"This is the way you're to go--with me!" he yelled.
+
+Half-dragging, half-coaxing, uttering strange promises, to which Senior
+smiled stupidly, Acton regained those few but terrible yards to the top
+of the ridge. Then his heart almost died within him: there was nothing
+to be seen, as, half-blinded by the snow, he tried to peer down the
+valley.
+
+"Nothing!"
+
+Senior, bereft of his companion's arm, had sunk down happily upon the
+snow and looked at Acton, stupidly trying to make head or tail out of
+the situation. His face was darkly flushed; his lips were swollen; and
+his eyes were heavy with sleep.
+
+Roused from his momentary despair by these terrible signs, Acton seized
+his friend by the throat of his overcoat, and jerked him to his feet. He
+shook him savagely until some sign of intelligence glimmered in the
+sleepy eyes.
+
+"Jack! Jack! Keep awake! We'll win out yet if you do."
+
+"All right, old man: my head buzzes awf'ly, Where are we? What are you
+doing?"
+
+"We're going down the hill. Don't leave go of me whatever you do, and
+oh, keep awake."
+
+"Serene," said Senior, closing his eyes again peacefully.
+
+With a sob of horror and despair, Acton lurched down the hill, dragging
+his companion with him. He kept repeating, as though it were a formula:
+"Down the slope and bear to the left" again and again.
+
+What the next half-hour held of misery, horror, and utter despair, Acton
+cannot, even now, recall without a shudder. They stumbled and staggered
+downwards like drunken men. The snow blinded him, and the dragging
+weight of Senior on his arm was an aching agony, from which, above all
+things, he must not free himself.
+
+Then, as the very climax to hopeless despair, Senior rolled heavily
+forward and lay prone, as helpless as a log, his face buried in the
+snow! His cap had fallen off, and Acton watched the black curls
+whitening in the storm.
+
+How long he remained there, crouched before the motionless body, he does
+not know; only that he tried many times to shake the dying youth from
+the terrible torpor in vain. Senior breathed heavily, and that was all.
+
+All hope had died in Acton's breast. He threw himself forward beside
+his friend, and sobbed, with his face in the snow.
+
+A sound reached Acton's ears which brought him to his feet with a bound.
+He placed his hand to his ear, and sent his very soul to the effort to
+fix the sound again, above the roar of the wind. It was the deep, but
+not distant, low of cattle.
+
+A third time did the low boom through the storm.
+
+Almost frantic with a living hope, Acton turned to Senior. He raised the
+unconscious youth, and, by a mighty effort, got him upon his shoulders,
+and then staggered off in the direction of the sound. He has a faint
+recollection that he rolled over into the snow twice, that he waded
+across a river, with the water up to his arm-pits, and always that there
+was a weight on his neck that almost throttled him.... He felt that he
+was going mad. Then at last--it seemed many hours--a building, wreathed
+in white, seemed to spring up out of the storm. Delirious with joy,
+Acton staggered towards it with his burden. Some figures moved towards
+him, and Acton shouted for help as he pitched forward for the last time
+into the snow. He dimly remembers strong hands raising him up and
+helping him through a farmyard, which seemed somehow to tremble with the
+low of cattle, and then he was in a chair, and a fire in front of him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An hour or two afterwards, Acton was seated before a table, and, in the
+intervals of gulping down hot coffee and swallowing food, told his
+tale. The peasant farmer and his wife listened open-eyed with
+astonishment. The farmer, from sheer amazement, dropped into the
+broadest Westmoreland dialect.
+
+"How far did thoo carry t'other yan?"
+
+"Don't know, really. Seemed an awful way. I went through a river, I
+know. The water guggled under my arms."
+
+"River!" said the farmer, rising up and running his hand over Acton's
+clothes. "He _has_, wife; he's waded through t' beck! Man, give us thee
+hand! Thoo's a--thoo's a good 'un. Noa! thoo shan't stir. I'll bring
+t'folk over t'fell mysel'!"
+
+And he did--the farmhouse, a few hours afterwards, giving the snowed-up
+passengers a hospitality which none of them ever forgot.
+
+There was the jolliest Christmas at "Raven Crag" that had ever been
+known. Mrs. Acton had whipped up a cohort of _cousins et cousines_--as
+they say in the French books--and even Grim found a partner, who didn't
+dance half bad--for a girl. Did I say a jolly Christmas? Well, even
+jolly doesn't quite do it justice.
+
+Letters dropped in upon Acton in the course of the week. There was one
+from Senior's father, which made Acton blush like a school-girl. There
+was another, a very stately one, from the board-room of St. Eustis,
+wherein the secretary of the Great North and West Railway, on behalf of
+the directors, tendered him hearty thanks for his great services to
+themselves and their employees. There was another from a lady, which
+_simply gushed_. There also arrived a small lock of child's hair, which
+Mr. Acton was begged to accept from a little girl, who slept "on Mr.
+Acton's pillow." Dick Worcester claimed this, but Acton was adamant.
+
+"I say, Todd," said Grim, earnestly, "don't you think we fellows might
+give Acton some memorial or other, just to show what we think of him?"
+
+"Good, Grimmy! Trot out suggestions."
+
+"Well, I had thought of a stained-glass window in----"
+
+Todd couldn't look at W.E.G.'s face for days after without a quiver.
+
+
+THE END
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
+
+LONDON AND BECCLES.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Acton's Feud, by Frederick Swainson
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd">
+<html>
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Action's Feud, by Frederic Swainson</title>
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+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Acton's Feud, by Frederick Swainson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Acton's Feud
+       A Public School Story
+
+Author: Frederick Swainson
+
+Release Date: January 25, 2005 [EBook #14772]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACTON'S FEUD ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Beginners Projects, Marie Stelly, Bruce
+Thomas and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+(https://www.pgdp.net).
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<a name="image-cover"><!-- Image cover --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 45%;">
+<a href="images/cover.jpg">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="100%"
+alt="Acton's Feud: A Public School Story (Book Cover)" border="0" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+
+<div class="img" style="width: 55%;">
+<a href="images/bookplate.jpg">
+<img src="images/bookplate.jpg" width="70%"
+alt="Book Plate on scanned book" border="0" /></a>
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 80%;">
+[Transcriber's Note: Book Plate included as an interesting historical artifact.]</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-1"><!-- Image 1 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 45%;">
+<a href="images/001.jpg">
+<img src="images/001.jpg" width="100%"
+alt="Acton Dropped To The Ground Like A Bludgeoned Dog." border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+Acton Dropped To The Ground Like A Bludgeoned Dog.</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<h1>ACTON'S FEUD</h1>
+<h2>A PUBLIC SCHOOL STORY</h2>
+<br />
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>FREDERICK SWAINSON</h2>
+<br />
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">with twelve illustrations</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<p class="cen">LONDON</p>
+<p class="cen">GEORGE NEWNES, LIMITED</p>
+<p class="cen">SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND</p>
+<p class="cen">1901</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<hr />
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<p class="cen">AD MATREM</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<hr />
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
+<br />
+
+<div style="margin-left: 15%;">
+  <table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="1" width="75%" summary="Table of Contents">
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td width="70%" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">Contents</td>
+    <td width="20%" align="right" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">Page</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#I">I.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">THE FOUL</td>
+    <td align="right">1</td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#II">II.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">THE PENALTY</td>
+    <td align="right">8</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#III">III.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">THE REGENERATION OF BIFFEN'S HOUSE</td>
+    <td align="right">15</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#IV">IV.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">BIFFEN'S PROGRESS</td>
+    <td align="right">22</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#V">V.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">COTTON AND HIS JACKAL</td>
+    <td align="right">27</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#VI">VI.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">THE LAST CAP</td>
+    <td align="right">36</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#VII">VII.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">THANKS TO ACTON</td>
+    <td align="right">49</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#VIII">VIII.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">BIFFEN'S CONCERT</td>
+    <td align="right">57</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#IX">IX.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">THE END OF TERM</td>
+    <td align="right">65</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#X">X.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">THE YOUNG BROTHER</td>
+    <td align="right">75</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XI">XI.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">TODD PAYS THE BILL</td>
+    <td align="right">88</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XII">XII.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">RAFFLES OF ROTHERHITHE</td>
+    <td align="right">93</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XIII">XIII.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">"EASY IS THE DOWNWARD ROAD"</td>
+    <td align="right">99</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XIV">XIV.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">IN THE STABLE</td>
+    <td align="right">106</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XV">XV.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">GRIM'S SUSPICIONS</td>
+    <td align="right">112</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XVI">XVI.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">TODD "FINDS HIMSELF"</td>
+    <td align="right">119</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XVII">XVII.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">RAFFLES' BILL</td>
+    <td align="right">126</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XVIII">XVIII.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">HODGSON'S QUIETUS</td>
+    <td align="right">133</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XIX">XIX.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">HOW THEY "'ELPED THE PORE FELLER"</td>
+    <td align="right">138</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XX">XX.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">ACTON'S TRUMP CARD</td>
+    <td align="right">146</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XXI">XXI.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">LONDON AND BACK</td>
+    <td align="right">156</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XXII">XXII.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">THE PENFOLD TABLET FUND</td>
+    <td align="right">161</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XXIII">XXIII.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">BOURNE <i>v.</i> ACTON</td>
+    <td align="right">170</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XXIV">XXIV.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">A RENEWED FRIENDSHIP</td>
+    <td align="right">179</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XXX">XXV.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">A LITTLE ROUGH JUSTICE</td>
+    <td align="right">187</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XXVI">XXVI.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">THE MADNESS OF W.E. GRIM</td>
+    <td align="right">194</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XXVII">XXVII.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">CONCERNING TODD AND COTTON</td>
+    <td align="right">204</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">ACTON'S LAST MOVE</td>
+    <td align="right">209</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XXIX">XXIX.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">WHY BIFFEN'S LOST</td>
+    <td align="right">215</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#XXX">XXX.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">THE END OF THE FEUD</td>
+    <td align="right">225</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td colspan="3">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td colspan="2" align="center"><span style="font-size: 120%;">ACTON'S CHRISTMAS</span></td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#ACTONS_CHRISTMASI">I.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">SNOWED UP</td>
+    <td align="right">237</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#ACTONS_CHRISTMASII">II.</a></td>
+    <td align="left">OVER THE FELLS</td>
+    <td align="right">248</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+<h3>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h3>
+<br />
+
+<div style="margin-left: 10%;">
+  <table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="1" width="80%" summary="List of Illustrations">
+    <tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-1">ACTON DROPPED TO THE GROUND LIKE A BLUDGEONED DOG</a></td>
+    <td align="center">Frontispiece</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-2">PHIL WALKED DOWN THE STEPS WITHOUT A FRIENDLY CHEER</a></td>
+    <td align="right">40</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-3">ACTON JUST REACHED IT WITH HIS HEAD</a></td>
+    <td align="right">50</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-4">AS THE TRAIN MOVED, GRIM SAID, "THREE CHEERS!"</a></td>
+    <td align="right">74</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-5">ACTON THREW HIM INTO THE SNOW-HEAP</a></td>
+    <td align="right">78</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-6">A LITTLE YELLOW, EAR-TORN DOG BUSTLED OUT OF SOME SHED</a></td>
+    <td align="right">94</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-7">"I'M GOING TO HAVE THE SEVEN TEN, OR SHOW YOU UP"</a></td>
+    <td align="right">128</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-8">THE GREEN POWDER UNDERWENT SOME WEIRD EXPERIMENTS</a></td>
+    <td align="right">142</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-9">HE PUSHED UP HIS WINDOW AND CRAWLED THROUGH</a></td>
+    <td align="right">160</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-10">"CUT, YOU MISERABLE PUPPY"</a></td>
+    <td align="right">172</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-11">HE GAVE ME A LONG, STEADY LOOK OF HATRED</a></td>
+    <td align="right">204</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td align="left"><a href="#image-12">AS THE HORSES WHIRLED PAST, HE CLUTCHED MADLY AT THE LOOSE REINS</a></td>
+    <td align="right">226</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="I"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FOUL</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Shannon, the old Blue, had brought down a rattling eleven&mdash;two
+Internationals among them&mdash;to give the school the first of its annual
+"Socker" matches. We have a particular code of football of our own, which
+the school has played time out of mind; but, ten years ago, the
+Association game was introduced, despite the murmuring of some of the
+masters, many of the parents&mdash;all old Amorians&mdash;and of Moore, the Head,
+who had yielded to varied pressures, but in his heart thought "Socker"
+vastly inferior to the old game. Association had flourished exceedingly;
+so much so that the Head made it a law that, on each Thursday in the
+Michaelmas term, the old game, and nothing but the old game, should be
+played, and woe betide any unauthorized "cutters" thereof. This was almost
+the only rule that Corker never swerved a hair's breadth from, and bitter
+were the regrets when Shannon had sent word to Bourne, our captain, that
+he could bring down a really clinking team to put our eleven through their
+paces, if the match were played on Thursday. Saturday, on account of big
+club fixtures, was almost impossible. Corker consented to the eleven
+playing the upstart code for this occasion only, but for the school
+generally the old game was to be <i>de rigueur</i>.</p>
+
+<p>So on this Thursday pretty well the whole school was out in the Acres,
+where the old game was in full swing; and, though I fancy the players to a
+man would have liked to have lined up on the touch-line in the next field
+and given Shannon the "whisper" he deserves, O.G. claimed them that
+afternoon for its own, and they were unwilling martyrs to old Corker's
+cast-iron conservatism. Consequently, when Bourne spun the coin and
+Shannon decided to play with the wind, there would not be more than
+seventy or eighty on the touch-line. Shannon asked me to referee, so I
+found a whistle, and the game started.</p>
+
+<p>It was a game in which there seemed to be two or three players who served
+as motive forces, and the rest were worked through. On one side Shannon at
+back, Amber the International at half, and Aspinall, the International
+left-winger, were head and shoulders above the others; on our side, Bourne
+and Acton dwarfed the rest.</p>
+
+<p>Bourne played back, and Acton was his partner. Bourne I knew well, since
+he was in the Sixth, and I liked him immensely; but of Acton I knew only a
+little by repute and nothing personally. He was in the Fifth, but, except
+in the ordinary way of school life, he did not come much into the circle
+wherein the Sixth moves. He was brilliantly clever, with that sort of
+showy brilliance which some fellows possess: in the exams, he would walk
+clean through a paper, or leave it untouched&mdash;no half measures. He was in
+Biffen's house and quite the most important fellow in it, and no end
+popular with his own crowd, for they looked to him to give their house a
+leg up, both in the schools and in the fields, for Biffen's were the
+slackest house in St. Amory's. He played football with a dash and vim good
+to see, and I know a good few of the eleven envied him his long, lungeing
+rush, which parted man and ball so cleanly, and his quick, sure kick that
+dropped the ball unerringly to his forwards. He was not in the eleven; but
+that he would be in before the term was over was a "moral." He was
+good-looking and rather tall, and had a certain foreign air, I thought;
+his dark face seemed to be hard and proud, and I had heard that his temper
+was fiery.</p>
+
+<p>Bourne had chosen him to play against Shannon's team, and as Acton bottled
+up the forwards on his wing Bourne felt that the school's future right
+back would not be far to seek.</p>
+
+<p>I soon saw that the school was not quite good enough for the others:
+Shannon was almost impassable, and Amber, the half, generally waltzed
+round our forwards, and when he secured he passed the ball on to Aspinall,
+who doubled like a hare along the touch-line. The question then was "Could
+Acton stop the flying International, who spun along like Bassett
+himself?" And he did, generally; or, if he could not, he forced him to
+part with the ball, and either Baines, our half, lying back, nipped in and
+secured, or Bourne cleared in the nick of time. Nine times out of ten,
+when Acton challenged Aspinall, the International would part with the ball
+to his inside partner; but twice he feinted, and before either of the
+school backs could recover, the ball was shot into the net with a high and
+catapultic cross shot. Again and again the game resolved itself into a
+duello between Acton and Aspinall, and Bourne, when he saw the dealings
+with the International and his wiles, smiled easily. He saw the school was
+stronger than he thought.</p>
+
+<p>The interval came with the score standing at two against us. When I
+started the game again I found that our fellows were pulling along much
+better with the wind, and that some of Shannon's men were not quite so
+dangerous as before, for condition told. We quickly had one through, and
+when I found myself blowing the whistle for a second goal I began to think
+that the school might pull through after all. Meanwhile Acton and Aspinall
+were having their occasional tussles, though somewhat less often than
+before, and three or four times the school back was overturned pretty
+heartily in the encounters.</p>
+
+<p>Though there was not a suspicion of unfairness or temper on Aspinall's
+part, I fancied that Acton was getting rather nettled at his frequent
+upsets. He was, I considered, heavier than Aspinall, and much taller, so I
+was both rather waxy and astonished to find that he was infusing a little
+too much vigour into his tackling, and, not to put too fine a point on it,
+was playing a trifle roughly. Aspinall was bundled over the touch-line a
+good half-dozen times, with no little animus behind the charge, and
+ultimately Bourne noticed it. Now, Bourne loathed anything approaching bad
+form, so he said sharply to Acton, though quietly, "Play the game, sir!
+Play the ball!" Acton flushed angrily, and I did not like the savage way
+he faced round to Bourne, who was particularly busy at that moment and did
+not notice it. The game went on until within about five minutes from time.
+Amber had been feeding Aspinall assiduously for the last ten minutes, and
+Acton had, despite his cleverness, more than he could really hold in the
+flying International. He stalled off the attack somehow, and Bourne always
+covered his exertions, so that it seemed as if there would be a draw after
+all. At last the ball was swung across, and Aspinall was off on a final
+venture. Acton stuck to him like a leech, but the winger tipped the ball
+to his partner, and as Acton moved to intercept the inside, the latter
+quickly and wisely poked the ball back again to Aspinall. He was off again
+in his own inimitable style, and I saw him smile as he re-started his run.
+I rather fancy Acton saw it too, and accepted the smile as a sneering
+challenge; anyhow, he set his lips and I believe made up his mind that in
+any case Aspinall should not get the winning goal. How it exactly happened
+I cannot say, but as Aspinall was steadying himself, when at top speed,
+for an almost point-blank delivery, I saw Acton break his own stride,
+shoot out his leg, and the next moment the International was stumbling
+forward, whilst the ball rolled harmlessly onward into our goal-keeper's
+hands. I could hardly believe my own eyes, but it was a deliberate trip,
+if ever there was one! Aspinall tried to recover himself, failed, and came
+with a sickening crash against the goal-post. I blew the whistle and
+rushed to Aspinall; his cheek was bleeding villainously and he was deadly
+pale. I helped him up, and he said with his usual smile&mdash;who could mistake
+it for a sneer?&mdash;"Thanks, old man. Yes, I do feel a bit seedy. That back
+of yours is an animal, though." He tried hard to keep his senses; I saw
+him battling against his faintness, but the pain and shock were too much
+for him; he fell down again in a dead faint.</p>
+
+<p>We improvised a hurdle and carried him up to the school. Acton, pale to
+the lips, prepared to bear a hand, but Bourne unceremoniously took him by
+the arm and said with concentration, "No thanks, Acton. We'll excuse
+you&mdash;you beastly cad!" I heard Bourne's remark, though no one else saw or
+heard. Acton's hand closed involuntarily, and he gave Bourne a vitriolic
+look, but did nothing nor said anything. We took Aspinall up to
+Merishall's&mdash;his old house&mdash;where he was staying, and left him there still
+unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>What astonished me was that no one save Bourne had noticed the trip, but
+when I came to think it over the explanation was easy. Acton had, whether
+from accident or of purpose, "covered" his man and blocked the view from
+behind. I myself had not really <i>seen</i> the trip, but it would have
+been plainly visible for any one opposite on the touch-line, and luckily
+there was no one opposite. The goal-keeper might have seen it, but Roberts
+never attends to anything but the ball&mdash;the reason he's the fine keeper
+that he is. Bourne had actually seen it, being practically with Acton, and
+I knew by his pale face and scornful eyes that he would dearly have liked
+to kick Acton on the spot.</p>
+
+<p>I was, as you may guess, intensely pleased that no one had an idea of the
+foul except Bourne and myself, for I could imagine vividly where the
+rumour of this sort of "form" would spread to. We'd hear of it for years
+after.</p>
+
+<p>I mentally promised that Acton should have a little of my opinion on the
+matter on the first opportunity.</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="II"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PENALTY</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>I arranged to see Bourne that evening, when we should have heard the
+doctor's report on Aspinall. In the evening Bourne strolled into my room,
+looking a little less gloomy than I expected. "Briggs says that there is
+nothing broken, and that as soon as Aspinall gets over the shock he will
+be all right. The cut may leave a scar, but that will be about all. All
+the same, Carr, I think that's too heavy a price to pay for the bad temper
+of one of our fellows who can't stand a tumble into the mud at 'footer.'
+You saw the villainy, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say I actually saw him trip, but there's no doubt whatever that
+it was an abominable foul."</p>
+
+<p>"None at all. I saw him, worse luck, tolerably plainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know anything about him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Practically nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"I think Biffen's rather fancy he's going to lift them out of the mire."
+</p>
+<p>"Can't say I envy them their champion."
+</p>
+<p>"What strikes me as odd is that such a magnificent player should do such a
+vile trick."
+</p>
+<p>"Rum, certainly. The affair will give quite a professional touch to our
+'Socker' fixtures, and the Carthusians will ask us to bar our bullies when
+they come down again. Oh, this <i>is</i> sweet!"</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Bourne, this business must not move one inch further. You've
+spoken to no one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it likely?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll not have any of our dirty linen washed <i>coram populo</i>, old
+chap. Frightful bad form. No one knows but you, Aspinall, and self."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely Aspinall will&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know Aspinall, old man. He'd shrivel up sooner than say a word
+more. Bet you he'll speak of it as an accident. Remember, he was captain
+of the school here once."</p>
+
+<p>"Which makes it a blacker shame than ever," said Bourne, wrathfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I've inquired casually of the Fifth, and it seems our friend once
+distinguished himself in the gym. Lost his temper&mdash;as <i>per
+recipe</i>&mdash;and Hodgson had to knock him down before he could see that
+we put on the gloves here for a little healthy exercise, and the pleasure
+of lifting some of the public schools championships. He, however,
+apologized to Hodgson, but I don't think he'll do the honourable here."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, the chief attraction of the beauty is its temper?"</p>
+
+<p>"Or want of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is he, anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yorkshire people, I believe. Own half a town and no end of coin. Been to
+school in France and Germany, and consequently came here rather late. I
+know his head-piece Is all right, and I imagine his amiability is only a
+little foreign blood working its way out. He will be with us in the Sixth
+at Christmas."</p>
+
+<p>"Delightful prospect. What I want to know is&mdash;how are we to settle this
+business as far as he is concerned? Ought Moore to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think so. Never trouble Corker more than you can help, old man.
+That's a tip for you when I'm gone. Besides, masters generally mishandle
+affairs of this sort. I rather fancy I'll put it to Aspinall when he pulls
+through."</p>
+
+<p>"Do. One thing, though, is pretty certain. He'll never get his cap as long
+as I'm captain of the footer eleven. I'd rather come out of it myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. I see there's no help for that, but, all the same, it will
+make complications. What a pity he <i>can</i> play!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is, for he is a back out of a thousand."</p>
+
+<p>Bourne's voice had in it a ring of genuine regret, and whilst I could
+almost have smiled at his unaffectedly tragic tone, I could see the vista
+which his resolution opened up. I heard the school shouting at Bourne to
+let the finest player out of the eleven in, and all the shouting would be
+across "seas of misunderstanding." I know Bourne saw the difficulties
+himself, and he left my study soon after with a rather anxious look on his
+face. Personally I determined not to think about the matter until I had
+seen Aspinall. From the very first I had never expected any help from
+Acton. There was something about the whole of his bearing in the caddish
+business that told me plainly that we would have to treat him, not as a
+fellow who had been betrayed to a vile action by a beastly temper and was
+bitterly sorry for it, but as a fellow who hated us for finding it out.</p>
+
+<p>I saw Aspinall two days later, and as we walked towards the station I
+broached the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly; I thought he tripped me, but he has written me and said how
+sorry he was for my accident, so, of course, it rests there."</p>
+
+<p>"Candidly, Aspinall, have you any doubt yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, old fellow. I'm sorry, but I really think he tripped me. He was riled
+at a little hustling from Shannon's lot, and I may have upset him myself
+occasionally. But it is a small matter."</p>
+
+<p>I looked at the bandages across his cheek, and I didn't think it small.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Aspinall, even if we leave you out of the business, it isn't a small
+matter for us, especially for Bourne."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no; hardly for you," he admitted. "'Twas a piece of sheer bad form.
+It shouldn't be done at our place at all."</p>
+
+<p>"If you were in Bourne's place would you bar him his place in the eleven?"</p>
+
+<p>Aspinall considered a full minute.</p>
+
+<p>"On the whole, I think I should&mdash;at least, for one term; but I'd most
+certainly let him know why he was not to have his cap&mdash;privately, of
+course. I should not like it to get about, and I do not fancy Acton will
+say much about it."</p>
+
+<p>That night Bourne and I crossed over to Biffen's, and waylaid Acton in his
+den. I'm pretty sure there wasn't another room like his in the whole
+school. No end of swell pictures&mdash;foreign mostly; lovely little books,
+which, I believe, were foreign also; an etching of his own place up in
+Yorkshire; carpets, and rugs, and little statuettes&mdash;swagger through and
+through; a little too much so, I believe, for the rules, but Biffen
+evidently had not put his foot down. Acton was standing on the hearthrug
+with his back to the fire, and on seeing us he politely offered us chairs
+with the air of a gentleman and a something of grace, which was a trifle
+foreign.</p>
+
+<p>I saw that Acton's polite cordiality nettled Bourne more than a little,
+but he solemnly took a chair, and in his blunt, downright fashion, plunged
+headlong into the business.</p>
+
+<p>"Only came to say a word or two, Acton, about Thursday's match."</p>
+
+<p>"A very good one," he remarked, with what Corker calls "detached
+interest." "Aspinall's accident was more than unfortunate."</p>
+
+<p>"The fact is," said Bourne, bluntly, "neither Carr nor I believe it was an
+accident."</p>
+
+<p>"No? What was it, then? Every one else thought it was, though."</p>
+
+<p>"We know better. We know that you deliberately fouled him, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Acton paled, and his eyes glittered viciously, though he said calmly,
+"That is a lie."</p>
+
+<p>"And," continued Bourne, "though there is not a fellow even a respectable
+second to you at 'footer,' I shall not give you your cap as long as I am
+captain of the eleven. That is all I came to say."</p>
+
+<p>Acton said quite calmly (why was he so uncommonly cool, I asked
+myself?)&mdash;though his face was red and white alternately: "Then listen
+carefully to what I say. I particularly wanted to have my footer cap&mdash;why,
+does not concern any one but myself&mdash;and I don't fancy losing it because a
+couple of fellows see something that a hundred others couldn't see, for the
+sufficient reason that there wasn't anything to see. I shall make no row
+about it; and, since you can dole out the caps to your own pet chums, and
+no one can stop you&mdash;do it! but I think you'll regret it all the same. I'm
+not going to moan about it&mdash;that isn't my way; but I really think you'll
+regret it. That is all; though"&mdash;this with a mocking sneer&mdash;"why it
+requires two of you to come and insult a man in his own room I don't
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>"I came to say that if you'd apologize to Aspinall things might
+straighten."</p>
+
+<p>"Might straighten! Oh, thanks!" he said, his face looking beastly
+venomous. "I think you'd better go, really."</p>
+
+<p>So we went, and I could not but feel that Bourne was right when he said on
+parting, "Our friend will make himself superbly disagreeable over this,
+take my word for it! But he won't get into the eleven, and I won't have a
+soul know that old Aspinall's scar is the work of a fellow in St. Amory's,
+either. If they have to know, he must tell them himself."</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="III"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>THE REGENERATION OF BIFFEN'S HOUSE</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>To say that Acton was upset by our visit and our conversation and Bourne's
+ultimatum would be beside the mark; he was furious, and when he had cooled
+down somewhat, his anger settled into a long, steady stretch of hate
+towards us both, but especially towards Bourne. He simmered over many
+plans for getting "even" with him, and when he had finally mapped out a
+course he proceeded, as some one says, "diligently to ensue it;" for Acton
+was not of that kind to be "awkward" as occasion arose, but there was
+method in all his schemes.</p>
+
+<p>It so happened that Worcester was captain of Biffen's house, and also of
+Biffen's "footer" team. My own opinion was that poor old Worcester would
+have given a lot to be out of such a house as Biffen's, and I know he
+utterly despised himself for having in a moment of inexplicable weakness
+consented to be permanent lead to Biffen's awful crowd on the Acres. He
+died a thousand deaths after each (usual) annihilation. Worcester and
+Acton had nothing in common, and, except that they were in the same house
+and form, they would not probably have come to nodding terms. Worcester,
+of course, looked up to the magnificent "footer" player as the average
+player looks up to the superlative. After the first game of the season,
+when Acton had turned out in all his glory, Dick had thereupon offered to
+resign his captaincy, even pressing, with perhaps suspicious eagerness,
+Acton's acceptance of that barren honour. But Acton did not bite. Captains
+were supposed to turn out pretty well every day with their strings, and
+Acton was not the sort of fellow to have his hands tied in any way. So he
+had gently declined.</p>
+
+<p>"No, old man. Wouldn't dream of ousting you. You'll get a good team out of
+Biffen's yet. Plenty of raw material."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just it," said Worcester, naively; "it is so jolly raw."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, cook it, old man."</p>
+
+<p>"It only makes hash," said Worcester, with a forlorn smile at his own
+joke.</p>
+
+<p>But now Acton thought that the captaincy of Biffen's might dovetail into
+his schemes for the upsetting of Bourne, and therefore Dick's proposal was
+to be reconsidered. Thus it was that Worcester got a note from Acton
+asking him to breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>Worcester came, and his eyes visibly brightened when he spotted Acton's
+table, for there was more than a little style about Acton's catering, and
+Worcester had a weakness for the square meal. Acton's fag, Grim, was busy
+with the kettle, and there was as reinforcement in Dick's special honour,
+young Poulett, St. Amory's champion egg-poacher, sustaining his big
+reputation in a large saucepan. Worcester sank into his chair with a sigh
+of satisfaction at sight of little Poulett; he was to be in clover,
+evidently.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right, Worcester. That <i>is</i> the easiest chair. Got that last
+egg on the toast, Poulett? You're a treasure, and so I'll write your
+mamma. Tea or coffee, Dick? Coffee for Worcester, Grim, tea for me. Pass
+that cream to Worcester, and you've forgotten the knife for the pie.
+You're a credit to Sharpe's, Poulett; but remember that you've been
+poaching for Biffen's footer captain. That's something, anyhow. Don't
+grin, Poulett; it's bad form. Going? To Bourne's, eh? I can recommend you,
+though it would be no recommendation to him. You can cut, too, Grim, and
+clear at 9.30. See the door catches."</p>
+
+<p>Grim scuttled after the renowned egg-poacher, and Worcester and Acton were
+left alone. When Worcester was fed, and had pushed back his chair, Acton
+broached the business to which the breakfast was the preliminary.</p>
+
+<p>"Fact is, Worcester, I've been thinking how it is that Biffen's is the
+slackest house in the place."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it's got such a plucky reputation, you know. The kids weep when
+they're put down for Biffen's. Give a dog a bad name&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But why the bad name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dunno! Perhaps it's Biffen. I think so, anyhow. At any rate, there's not
+been a fellow from the house in the Lord's eleven or in the footer eleven,
+and in the schools Biffen's crowd always close the rear. By the way, how
+did you come among our rout?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think mater knew Biffen; that's the explanation."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather rough on you."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't feel anything, really, Worcester."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Biffen has got a diabolical knack of picking up all the loose ends
+of the school; all the impossible fellows gravitate here: why, look at our
+Dervishes!" (Dervish was the slang for foreigners at St. Amory's.)</p>
+
+<p>"We've certainly got more than our share of colour."</p>
+
+<p>"That's Biffen's all the world over," said Dick, with intense heat; "you
+could match any colour between an interesting orange and a real jet black
+among our collection. Biffen simply can't resist a nigger. He must have
+him. What they come to the place at all for licks me. Can't the
+missionaries teach 'em to spell?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>La haute politique</i>," suggested Acton.</p>
+
+<p>"Of Sarawack or Timbuctoo?" said Worcester, with scorn. "Bet my boots that
+Borneo one's governor went head-hunting in his time, and the darkest
+African one's knows what roasted man is."</p>
+
+<p>Acton laughed, for a nigger was to Worcester as a red rag to a bull. "St.
+Amory's for niggers!" Dick would say with intense scorn.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow," said Acton, "I think there's no need for us to be quite so
+slack."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll pull us up a bit?" said Dick, with genuine admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks. But I meant the whole house generally."</p>
+
+<p>"Not much good. We're Biffen's, that never did nor never shall, etc."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. There's sixty of us, barring your niggers; we ought to get
+eleven to look at a football with a business eye out of that lot, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"We ought to, but don't."</p>
+
+<p>"We ought to do something in the schools too."</p>
+
+<p>"We ought to, but don't, though Raven is in for the Perry Exhibition.
+Guess he won't pull it off, though."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see about that, too," said Acton. "As for the niggers&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never mind them!" burst in Worcester. "Without humbug, Acton, do you
+really want our house to move a bit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, consent to captain our footer eleven and we give ourselves a
+chance, for I can't make the fellows raise a gallop at any price, and I
+somehow think you can. Have a try. If you are sick of it at Christmas,
+I'll come in again; honour bright. It isn't too good-natured of me to ask
+you to pull Biffen's out of the mud, but you're the only fellow to do it
+if it can be done. Will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't mind resigning?"</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, no!" said Worcester, precipitately.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention it. Not at all, old man, not at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've been thinking that, if you didn't mind, I'd like to try my
+hand on our crowd; though, since you don't move 'em, there can't be much
+chance for me to do anything smart."</p>
+
+<p>"That doesn't follow, for you aren't me, old man."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll have a shot at it."</p>
+
+<p>Worcester grasped Acton's hand, as the French say, "with emotion."</p>
+
+<p>"But the house will have to elect me, you know; perhaps they'd fancy Raven
+as captain. He can play decently, and they know him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Biffen's are a dense lot, but I'm hanged if even their stupidity
+would do a thing like that. They've seen you play, haven't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks. Fact is, Dick, I feel a bit bored by the patronage of Taylor's
+and Merishall's, and Sharpe's and Corker's, and all the rest of the
+houses."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Biffen's laid himself out for that, you must see."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't fancy Bourne's sneers and Hodgson's high stilts."</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't noticed either," said Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"H'm!" said Acton, rather nettled by Dick's dry tone. "I have. As for the
+niggers&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The other houses despise us on their account. We're the Dervish Camp to
+the rest."</p>
+
+<p>"As for the niggers, they shall do something for Biffen's too," said
+Acton, rather thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean in the sing-songs? Well, they'll spare the burnt cork
+certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's an idea too," said Acton, laughing, "but not the one I had.
+That will keep."</p>
+
+<p>Worcester might have some curiosity to know what Acton's idea was, but he
+wasn't going to inquire anything about the niggers.</p>
+
+<p>"It's awfully brickish of you, Worcester," said Acton, as Grim was heard
+trotting up the corridor "to stand down."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all; the sacrifice is on your altar."</p>
+
+<p>"Then <i>allons</i>. Here's Grim knocking, and I've to see Corker at 9.40.
+You'll excuse me."</p>
+
+<p>Grim came in and commenced to clear away, and the two sallied out.</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="IV"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>BIFFEN'S PROGRESS</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>That day, after morning school, Biffen's held a meeting, and thereat Acton
+was proposed captain by Worcester and seconded by Raven; and Biffen's
+confirmed Worcester's qualified opinion of their sense by electing him
+<i>nem. con</i>.</p>
+
+<p>From that day Acton threw his heart and soul into the regeneration of
+Biffen's. There did not pass an afternoon but that he turned out for
+footer, and coached, encouraged, bullied, stormed, praised each individual
+member of the team with the strictest impartiality and Spartan justice.</p>
+
+<p>The smallest fault was dragged out into the light of day, and commented on
+with choice fulness, and any clever concerted piece of work got its due
+reward. Acton would stand no half-hearted play; he wanted the last ounce
+out of his men. The fellows stared a bit at first at his deadly
+earnestness, so unlike Dick's disgusted resignation at their shortcomings;
+but they found the change refreshing on the whole, for they could stand a
+lot of bullying from a fellow like Acton, who never seemed to make a
+mistake, or to have an off-day, and who could give stones and a beating to
+the best man among them. They respected his skill, and buckled to the work
+in hand. In about a fortnight there was a suggestion of style about the
+moving of some of the fellows up the field. Worcester backed up Acton with
+whole-hearted enthusiasm, and Raven was lost in wonder at the forward
+movement. This backing Acton found rather useful, for Dick and Raven were
+as popular as any in St. Amory's.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the fellows were inclined to turn restive after about a fortnight,
+when the novelty of earnestness in football had worn off, but Acton's
+demands were as inexorable as ever. Matters came to a head (probably, as I
+expect, to the new captain's inward satisfaction) when his girding upset
+Chalmers&mdash;about the best forward of Biffen's regenerated lot. There was to
+be a match with some of the Fifth for the Saturday, and Acton had arranged
+a preliminary canter the day before to test his attack. Chalmers was the
+winger, but on the day he was tremendously selfish, and stuck to the ball
+until he was robbed or knocked off it. Now, Acton loathed the "alone I did
+it" type of forward, and asked Chalmers pretty acidly what his inside man
+was for. This riled Chalmers considerably, for he had a large private
+opinion about his own play, and he said pretty hotly, "Mind your own
+business, Acton."</p>
+
+<p>Acton said very coolly, "I am going to do so. Please remember, Chalmers,
+this is not a one-horse show."</p>
+
+<p>"Seems distinctly like it, judging by the fellow who's been doing all the
+talking for the last age."</p>
+
+<p>"Play the game, and don't be an ass."</p>
+
+<p>"I object to being called an ass," said Chalmers, in a white rage.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, mule, then," said Acton, cheerfully. "Anything to oblige you,
+Chalmers, bar your waltzing down the touch-line to perdition. You're not a
+Bassett nor a Bell yet, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Chalmers would dearly have liked to have struck Acton, but Worcester
+looked so utterly disgusted at the whole business, that I fancy it was
+Dick's eye that suggested to Chalmers his getting into his coat and
+sweater. He did so, and stalked angrily off the field.</p>
+
+<p>Now, Chalmers really liked the game, and did not fancy being crossed out
+of the eleven, which Acton would almost certainly proceed to do; so that
+night after tea, he went to Worcester's study, and boarded Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Apologize to Acton," said Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"But he called me an ass!"</p>
+
+<p>"You were one," said Dick, dryly. "Acton's putting in a lot of work over
+the slackest house that ever disgraced the old school, and this is how
+he's treated. Ass is a mild term."</p>
+
+<p>Chalmers went to Raven.</p>
+
+<p>"Apologize," said Raven.</p>
+
+<p>"He called me a mule," urged Chalmers, despairingly.</p>
+
+<p>"So you were. I quite expected to see the kicking begin, really. Acton's
+sweating no end to screw us up to concert-pitch, and flat mutiny is his
+reward. Apologize, and help us win the Fifth to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>So Chalmers moved reluctantly across to Acton's and made his apology.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention it," said Acton, cheerfully. "Sorry I upset you, Chalmers,
+but you elected me captain, and I do want a little success in the houses,
+and how can we get it if the fellows don't combine? Say no more about it;
+I was rather afraid you weren't going to come, which is the unadorned
+truth."</p>
+
+<p>This last delicate touch, which showed Chalmers that, without the apology,
+his captain had meant to cut him adrift, <i>sans</i> hesitation, and yet
+contained a pretty little compliment to his footer, embarrassed Chalmers
+more than a little; but Acton offered his forward tea and muffins, and
+five minutes afterwards Chalmers was finding out what a nice fellow Acton
+really could be. The next day Chalmers smoothed his ruffled feelings by
+piling on three goals against the Fifth, who sneaked off the Acres five
+goals to the bad. This was the first time for ages that Biffen's had
+tasted blood, and the news of the victory staggered others besides the
+victims. There was quite a flutter among the house captains, and Acton, by
+the way, had no more mutinies.</p>
+
+<p>"Without haste, without rest," Biffen's captain started his second project
+for the elevation of his house. He had noticed what none of the other
+fellows would condescend to see, that two of the despised niggers of
+Biffen's were rather neat on the bars. He spent a quarter of an hour one
+evening quietly watching the two in the gym, and he went away thoughtful.
+Singh Ram and Mehtah thereupon each received a polite note, and "could
+they call about seven in Acton's study?" They came, and Acton talked to
+them briefly but to the point. When they sought their quarters again they
+were beaming, and "Singed" Ram carried a fat book of German physical
+exercises under his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I not coming out strong?" said Acton, laughing to himself, "when I set
+the very niggers a-struggling for the greater glory of Biffen's&mdash;or is it
+Acton's? Then, there's that exhibition, which we must try to get for this
+double-superlative house. Raven must beat that Sixth prig Hodgson, the
+very bright particular star of Corker's. Would two hours' classics, on
+alternate nights, meet his case? He shall have 'em, bless him! He shall
+know what crops Horace grew on his little farm, and all the other rot
+which gains Perry Exhibitions. Hodgson may strong coffee and wet towel
+<i>per noctem</i>; but, with John Acton as coach, Raven shall upset the
+apple-cart of Theodore Hodgson. There's Todd in for the Perry, too, I
+hear. Hodgson may be worth powder and shot, but I'm hanged if Raven need
+fear Cotton's jackal! If only half of my plans come off, still that will
+put Philip Bourne in a tighter corner than he's ever been in before.
+Therefore&mdash;<i>en avant!</i>"</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="V"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h3>COTTON AND HIS JACKAL</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>As I said before, the victory of the despised Biffenites over the Fifth
+Form eleven&mdash;a moderate one, it is true&mdash;caused quite a little breeze of
+surprise to circulate around the other houses, which had by process of
+time come to regard that slack house as hopeless in the fields or in the
+schools. Over all the tea-tables that afternoon the news was commented on
+with full details; how Chalmers had gained in deadliness just as much as
+he had lost in selfishness, and how Raven and Worcester had worked like
+horses, and mown down the opposition&mdash;"Fifth Form opposition!" said the
+fags, with a lift of the eyebrows&mdash;like grass, and as for Biffen's new
+captain, well, if there was one player who could hold a candle to him it
+must be Phil Bourne, and he only.</p>
+
+<p>In the Rev. E. Taylor's house, Cotton senior, who answered to the name of
+"Jim" among his familiars, and was "Bully Cotton" to his enemies&mdash;every
+Amorian below the Fifth, and a good sprinkling elsewhere&mdash;and Augustus
+Vernon Robert Todd, who was "Gus" to every one, sat at tea together in
+Todd's room. Cotton had been one of the slain that afternoon on the Acres,
+and was still in his footer clothes, plus a sweater, which almost came up
+to his ears. There was a bright fire in the grate, and though Todd's room
+was not decorative compared with most of the other fellows' dens, yet it
+was cheerful enough. Cotton had come back from the match hungry and a
+trifle bruised from a smart upset, only to find his own fire out, and
+preparations for tea invisible. Having uttered dire threats against his
+absent, erring fag, he moved into his friend's room, and the two clubbed
+together their resources, and the result was a square meal, towards which
+Cotton contributed something like 19/20, A.V.R. Todd's share being limited
+to the kettle, the water, and the fire. When Cotton had satisfied his
+footer appetite, he turned down his stocking and proceeded vigorously to
+anoint with embrocation his damaged leg, the pungent scent of the liniment
+being almost ornamental in its strength.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you get that, Jim?" said Gus, surveying the brawny limb with
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Acton brought me down like a house, my boy."</p>
+
+<p>"Fair?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; but you've got to go down if he catches you in his swing."</p>
+
+<p>"You fellows must have played beautifully to let Biffen's mob maul you to
+that extent."</p>
+
+<p>"Gus, my boy, instead of frowsing up here all the afternoon with your
+books, you should have been on the touch-line watching those Biffenites at
+their new tricks. Your opinion then would have a little avoirdupois. As it
+is, you Perry Exhibit, it is worth exactly nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"You're deucedly classical to-night, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm sick of this forsaken match and all the compliments we've had
+over it. I'm going now to have a tub, and then we'll get that Latin paper
+through, and, thirdly, I'll have the chessmen out."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, I can't, Jim," said Todd, discontentedly. "There is that beastly
+Perry Scholarship&mdash;I must really do something for that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thomas Rot, Esq.!" said Cotton. "Haven't you been a-cramming and
+a-guzzling for that all this afternoon? You've a duty towards your chums,
+Toddy, so I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all very well, Jim, for you, who are going to break some crammer's
+heart, and then crawl into the Army through the Militia, but my pater
+wants me to do something in the Perry, I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Chess!" said Cotton, disregarding Todd's bleat, and then, with a sly
+smile, he added, "Shilling a game, Gus, and you know you always pull off
+the odd one."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Todd, swallowing the bait with forlorn eagerness; "I'll
+have the board set out if you must come in."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I must!" said Cotton, with a half-sneer at Todd's anxiety to pick up
+a small sum. "Clear the table, and we'll make a snug evening of it."</p>
+
+<p>Todd's method of clearing a table was novel, if not original. He carried
+it bodily into Cotton's room, and then returned with his friend's
+mahogany, which was undoubtedly more ornamental than his own.</p>
+
+<p>Acton was absolutely right when he sneeringly called Gus "Cotton's
+jackal." Todd was exactly of the material which makes a good jackal,
+though he never became quite Jim Cotton's toady. He was a sharp, selfish
+individual, good-looking in an aimless kind of way, with a slack, feeble
+mouth, and a wandering, indecisive glance. He had a quick, shallow
+cleverness, which could get up pretty easily enough of inexact knowledge
+to pass muster in the schools. Old Corker knew his capabilities to a hair,
+and would now and then, when Gus offered up some hazy, specious
+guess-work, blister him with a little biting sarcasm. Todd feared the
+Doctor as he feared no one else. Todd's chief private moan was that he
+never had any money. His father was a rich man, but had some ideas which
+were rather rough on his weak-kneed son. He tipped poor Gus as though he
+were some thrifty hairdresser's son, and Todd had to try to ruffle it with
+young Amorians on as many shillings as they had crowns. Not a lad who ever
+had naturally any large amount of self-respect, the little he had soon
+went, and he became, while still a fag, a hewer of wood and drawer of
+water to his better-tipped cronies. His destiny finished when, on his
+entry into the Fifth, Jim Cotton claimed him, and subsidized him as his
+man.</p>
+
+<p>At the beginning of the term his father had told him that if he could make
+a good show in the Perry Exhibition there need not be any more grumbling
+about his tip. Gus came back to St. Amory's hysterically anxious to cut
+out all competitors for the Perry, but the shackles of his old serfdom
+were still about him. When he showed signs of being restive to the old
+claims, and recommended Cotton to do his own classics and mathematics,
+Cotton coolly and calmly demanded repayment of sundry loans contracted of
+old. Todd had not the pluck to face a term of plain living and high
+thinking by paying his former patron all he owed him and exhausting all
+his present tip by so doing, but flabbily, though discontentedly, caved
+in, and became Cotton's jackal as before.</p>
+
+<p>Cotton was by no means as bad as his endearing name might make you think.
+He was a tall, heavy fellow, with a large, determined-looking face. He was
+wonderfully stupid in the schools, but was quite clever enough to know it.
+He had some good qualities. He was straight enough in all extra-school
+affairs, did not lie, nor fear any one; kept his word, and expected you to
+keep yours.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't beat Hodgson of the Sixth, Gus, so what is the good of sweating
+all the term? Hodgson's got the deuce of a pull over you to start with."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not frightened of Hodgson if you wouldn't bother, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't do without you, old cock. You're just the fellow to lift my Latin
+and those filthy mathematics high enough out of the mud to keep the beaks
+from worrying me to death. I tried Philips for a week, but he did such
+weird screeds in the 'unseens' that Merishall smelt a rat, and was most
+particular attentive to me, but your leverage is just about my fighting
+weight."</p>
+
+<p>Gus had sniffed discontentedly at this dubious compliment; but Cotton had
+smiled stolidly, and continued to use Gus as his classical and
+mathematical hack. Besides, there was something about Gus's easy-going
+lackadaisical temperament which exactly suited Cotton, and he felt for his
+grumbling jackal a friendliness apart from Gus's usefulness to him.</p>
+
+<p>This afternoon had been a fair sample of Todd's usual half-holiday.
+Feeling no heart for any serious work for the Perry, he had spent it in
+reading half a worthless novel, and skimming through a magazine, and
+feeling muddled and discontented in consequence. He had the uneasy feeling
+that he was an arrant ass in thus fooling time away, but had not
+sufficient self-denial to seize upon a quiet afternoon for a little
+genuine work.</p>
+
+<p>Cotton soon returned from his bath, and the two cronies spent about an
+hour in getting up the least modicum of their classics which would satisfy
+Merishall; and then they played chess, by which Gus was one florin richer.
+A third game was in progress, but Todd managed to tip over the board when
+he was "going to mate in five moves." Cotton thereupon said he had had
+enough, but Gus avariciously tried to reconstruct the positions. He failed
+dismally, and Cotton laughed sweetly. Now Cotton's laugh would almost make
+his chum's hair curl, so he retorted pretty sweetly himself, "I say, Jim.
+I can't get out of my head that awful hammering you fellows got this
+afternoon. Think Biffen's lot likely to shape well in the House matches?"
+
+"There's no telling, old man. But if they get moderate luck they'll be
+waltzing about in the final."</p>
+
+<p>"That's absolute blazing idiocy!" said Todd, knocking over more chessmen
+in his astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Gus. To talk absolute blazing idiocy is my usual habit, of
+course. They may carry off the final even, but that, perhaps, is a tall
+order."</p>
+
+<p>Todd nursed his astonishment for a full five minutes, whistling
+occasionally, as at some very fantastic idea. At last he said more
+seriously: "Aren't you now, Jim, really pulling my leg?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, honour bright! Biffen's are really eye-openers."</p>
+
+<p>Gus said with infinite slyness: "Look here, I'll bet you evens Biffen's
+<i>don't</i> pull off the final."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that is rot, Gus, to talk about betting, for you can't pay if you
+lose."</p>
+
+<p>Gus had not too much sensitiveness in his character, but this unmeant
+insult stung him.</p>
+
+<p>"You've no right to say that. I've paid all I've ever betted with you."</p>
+
+<p>Cotton considered heavily in his own mind for a moment. "That is almost
+true, but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what do you mean&mdash;" began Todd, in a paddy.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Cotton; "shut up, confound you! I'll take you."</p>
+
+<p>"Three quid Biffen's are not cock-house at 'footer.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Done," said Cotton, unwillingly pulling out his note-book; "and straight,
+Todd, I shall expect you to pay if you lose."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, shut up, Cotton, you cad! I shall pay if I lose, man. What do you
+want to keep on insulting me like that for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Steady, Gus. You'll have Taylor up if you howl like that. I meant
+nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing!" said Gus in a fury, seeking for something particularly sweet to
+say to his patron. "I jolly well hope, then, that if our house should meet
+'em in the rounds you will do your little best to put a stopper on their
+career. Don't, for the sake of pulling off your bet, present 'em with a
+few goals. You 'keep' for our house, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dash it all, Todd," said Cotton, in a white rage, "you are a bounder!
+Think I'd sell my side?" he demanded furiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Gus, delighted at having got through Cotton's skin. "You don't
+stomach insults any more than I do. Then why do you ladle them out so
+jolly freely to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"That was a particularly low one," said Cotton angrily; "and anyway, you
+avaricious beggar, you've got thundering good terms, for it is hardly
+likely that Biffen's can really be cock-house. There's Corker's house,
+with Bourne and Hodgson and a few more good men. You're a sight more
+likely to see my three sovs, that I am yours."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so," said Gus, with some relief at the anticipation of this
+pleasant prospect.</p>
+
+<p>Then the anger of the two simmered down, each having given and received
+some very choice compliments, and as these little breezes were usual
+between the two, ten minutes afterwards they were amiably entertaining
+each other. Cotton was putting up a pair of dumb-bells three hundred
+times, and his crony was counting and criticising his form. The Perry
+Exhibition did not enter Todd's head, but his bet&mdash;"such a gilt-edged
+one," he chuckled&mdash;was never once out of it. And Todd's bet had some
+momentous consequences for him, too.</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="VI"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h3>THE LAST CAP</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>While Acton was thus making such strenuous exertions to lift Biffen's out
+of the mire, Bourne was finding out the whole unpainted beauty of the
+situation&mdash;as far as it concerned himself.</p>
+
+<p>The experimental footer elevens were chosen in what, I believe, is the
+usual manner. The old members of the school eleven formed a committee, and
+chose fellows to play in the weekly matches, and if any one of them showed
+special talent he was, of course, retained, and by-and-by the captain gave
+him his school cap, and he was henceforth a full-blown member of the
+eleven, with a seat on the committee like any of the old gang.</p>
+
+<p>There were left of the last year's team five players&mdash;Bourne, Mivart,
+Vercoe, Baines, and Roberts. The final promotion of fellows into the
+eleven, however, rested with the captain alone, and when he considered any
+fellow good enough he signified the same by presenting him with the blue
+and silver cap of St. Amory.</p>
+
+<p>The giving away of a cap had become quite a function. Whenever there was
+the rumour that some one was to have a cap after a match, pretty well the
+whole school swarmed round the pavilion, and when the new member came out
+in all the glory of his new blue and silver he got the cheers which his
+play or popularity deserved, and especially did the new member's house
+distinguish themselves in the shouting.</p>
+
+<p>Thus Bourne had six caps at his disposal, and since "Socker" had been
+introduced, the last cap was always given so that when the school played
+the last match&mdash;the Carthusians&mdash;the eleven would be complete.</p>
+
+<p>Bourne saw at once the cloud which was rising on the horizon when, at the
+first committee meeting to choose the eleven against "The Cognoscenti"
+Mivart said, "Well, Bourne, we've got your partner for to-morrow ready
+made. I think we may put that new chap Acton down right off."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather," said Vercoe. "He can't be left out."</p>
+
+<p>"Best back we've seen for an age-barring Phil, of course," said Baines.</p>
+
+<p>"And the others we'll have to fight over, as usual. My choice is Hodgson
+for centre."</p>
+
+<p>"Too lazy, Roberts. Mine is Chalmers."</p>
+
+<p>"Rot! He's a winger."</p>
+
+<p>And so the selection of an eleven against the Cognoscenti went on in the
+usual old-fashioned style.</p>
+
+<p>Bourne dropped into my study afterwards and said, gloomily; "On the whole,
+Carr, had I not better tell the fellows that they may elect Acton for our
+school fixtures, but he cannot have his cap? That will take the bull by
+the horns from the beginning."</p>
+
+<p>"By no means. The other fellows have nothing whatever to do with giving
+caps away; that is your business entirely. Besides, who knows? Acton may
+not care to play when he knows he cannot get his cap."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd be agreeably surprised if he didn't. But that won't be his little
+game. Take my word for it, he'll turn out on every blessed occasion, play
+like a master of the game, and give us no end of trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he may. Anyhow, something may turn up between now and the last
+match&mdash;we'll hope so, anyhow; and until the last cap is given away the
+fellows generally won't spot your little game."</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis only putting off the evil day, Carr," said Phil, discontentedly.</p>
+
+<p>"A good day to put off."</p>
+
+<p>Thus, when Hodgson was given the first cap, there was the general comment
+that he was pretty sure to annex a cap sooner or later, and might as well
+have it soon. Acton's turn&mdash;so said the school would come later, though
+Biffen's house sneered. "Of course, Hodgson is in the Sixth. What else but
+a Sixth Form fellow is wanted in a footer eleven?"</p>
+
+<p>Sharpe's house secured the next two caps, and Biffen's groaned aloud.
+"Whatever is old Phil about? One might think he was blind in his right eye
+and straddled in his left. We'll send him a pair of gig lamps, and then
+perhaps he may discover Acton&mdash;Acton, of Biffen's."</p>
+
+<p>The weeks went by, and after a spirited display by Chalmers against the
+Emeriti, he was given his cap, and for the first time since Biffen's was a
+house they had a man in the eleven. But they gasped as Chalmers came out
+of the pavilion with his blue and silver cap on his curls. "That ass
+Bourne found the house at last, and then he goes and carefully spots the
+wrong man. Whatever <i>is</i> the matter with him? To pick Chalmers before
+Acton! Rot!"</p>
+
+<p>Over tea that night Biffen's bubbled and choked, and the other houses
+began to take a lively interest in the next distribution, for this
+constant passing of Acton was becoming exciting. But still&mdash;and I was glad
+to see it&mdash;the school had faith in Phil; they counted on justice being
+done, as it were, in the last laps. No one mentioned a word to him about
+the intense curiosity and even anxiety that his odd bestowal of caps had
+excited amongst them, for Phil has that way with him that can shut up a
+fellow quicker than you can snap a knife if that fellow is travelling out
+of bounds.</p>
+
+<p>However, when Place, of Merishall's, came out of the pavilion a full-blown
+member of the school eleven there was a scene. The whole body of fellows
+now thought that the comedy was pretty nearly becoming a tragedy, and they
+showed their feelings unmistakably. Place was cheered by Merishall's, but
+not overwhelmingly, and from the other houses there was an ominous
+silence. Place, as he trotted out, looked rather puzzled, and a bit
+undecided how to take his odd reception, and glanced rather helplessly
+round at the sea of faces all turned anxiously towards him. There would be
+pretty nearly seven hundred fellows round the pavilion, for there was no
+end of excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep up your pecker, Place! You're all right, anyhow!" shouted some one.</p>
+
+<p>The other members came out one by one, and were cheered to the echo, and
+at last Phil came out with Hodgson. He was rather pale, but had his back
+very straight. There was a dead silence, and, for the first time since he
+had been captain, Phil walked down the steps without a friendly cheer. I
+think even now the old school behaved itself very well&mdash;the fellows were
+not behind the scenes, and didn't see more than was before their eyes, but
+there was not a single word thrown out at Phil. Acton came out with
+Worcester, and the pity was that he didn't deserve the cheers he got.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-2"><!-- Image 2 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 45%;">
+<a href="images/002.jpg">
+<img src="images/002.jpg" width="100%"
+alt="Phil Walked Down The Steps Without A Friendly Cheer." border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+Phil Walked Down The Steps Without A Friendly Cheer.</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>The week before the Carthusian match there was but one solitary player to
+be promoted. The position was back, and every fellow in the place knew
+that, bar Bourne himself, there wasn't another man that could hold a
+candle to Acton there. The committee doggedly, and with meaning, elected
+the only player there was to elect, and Acton signified that he was
+willing to play. Bourne, as usual, was there, and no one felt more than he
+the air of distrust and constraint which hung over the meeting. When Acton
+was unanimously elected for back Phil stolidly wrote out the list of the
+team and had it pinned up on the notice-board. He had carefully drawn the
+line in red ink above the last name&mdash;Acton's&mdash;which showed that the
+pride of Biffen's was not in the eleven yet.</p>
+
+<p>Probably Acton on the next day played as well as even he had ever played
+in his life, for he was almost impassable, and the crowd of fellows
+cheered him till they were hoarse. The minute the whistle blew, like one
+man the whole school swarmed round the pavilion. The question each asked
+himself and his chum was, "Would Acton get the last cap?" And the answer
+was, "Why, of course! Who else should have it?"</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon to most of the fellows the eleven seemed an age getting
+into their sweaters and coats. When Acton appeared first, and it was seen
+that he was wearing the pink cap of Biffen's on his head there was more
+than astonishment, there was consternation. Whatever did it mean? Acton
+smiled good-naturedly at the school as they cheered him to the echo, and
+hurried unconcernedly along. The others of the eleven came out dejectedly,
+and filed up the hill in gloomy little groups. The whole school waited for
+Phil, and when he came out, pale and worried, they received him in icy
+silence. As he was coming down the steps one of Biffen's fags shouted
+shrilly, "Three cheers for Acton!"</p>
+
+<p>Phil stalked through the shouting school, and as I joined him and we
+walked up together, he said, through his clenched teeth&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I wish, old man, I had never seen that brute."</p>
+
+<p>That evening Bourne wrote to Worcester offering him the remaining cap.</p>
+
+<p>Worcester flew across to Acton's room, and said, "Bourne has offered me
+the place&mdash;the last cap. He must be stark, staring mad!"</p>
+
+<p>"Take it," said Acton, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"No fear," said Worcester. "We have a stupid kind of prejudice here for
+having the best eleven we can get, and it isn't the best if you're out of
+it. Bourne has always been a most impartial fellow up to this date, so
+this little occurrence has thrown us off the rails. Before I go to
+protest, though, have you any idea what is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"He does not consider me fit for the eleven," said Acton with a light
+laugh, but also with perfect truth.</p>
+
+<p>"Rot!" said Dick, hurrying away.</p>
+
+<p>He hunted up the other nine fellows, and said bluntly his business.</p>
+
+<p>"I vote we all protest to Bourne. A round robin should meet the case."</p>
+
+<p>"Good," said Mivart. "Draw one up, Dicky dear."</p>
+
+<p>Dick in time produced the following:&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"We, the undersigned, think that the St. Amory eleven is incomplete
+without John Acton, of Biffen's house, and, consequently, that he ought to
+have the last cap; and we would beg the captain to offer it him unless
+there be very good reasons for not doing so. We would suggest that if John
+Acton isn't to have the cap he be told the reason. The undersigned do not
+wish in the smallest degree to prejudice the right of the captain to
+select members for the eleven, but think that in the present case the
+withholding of a cap from John Acton inexplicable."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a ready scribe, Dick," said Chalmers. "We may all sign that, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Worcester. "I first, because I am undeservedly offered the
+cap, and the rest of you in order of membership."</p>
+
+<p>No one saw any objection to signing Dick's memorandum, and forthwith, with
+all legal formality, the round robin was signed by the ten, and sent to
+Phil by Dick's fag with orders to wait for an answer.</p>
+
+<p>It came within five minutes.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<div style="margin-left: 5em;">
+<span style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;">&quot;Dear Worcester,</span><br />
+
+<p style="text-indent: 2em;">I have no intention of offering John Acton a place in the St.
+Amory's football eleven. There are good reasons for not doing so, and I
+have already told Acton the reasons. Please let me know whether you
+accept the vacant place I had the pleasure of offering you.</p>
+
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Yours sincerely,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em; font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;">Philip Bourne.&quot;</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>This was a thunderbolt among the fellows. Then Acton knew!</p>
+
+<p>Worcester posted back to Acton, lost in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at this, Acton!"</p>
+
+<p>Acton carefully read Bourne's letter, and Dick, who was watching him
+anxiously, saw him bite his lips with rage; for Phil's icy contempt stood
+out in every word of the letter.</p>
+
+<p>"He says you know why you are not in the eleven."</p>
+
+<p>Acton knew that he would have to explain something, or else Bourne would
+win the day yet. So he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"That is true. He told me so at the beginning of the season, but, of
+course, I never bargained for his keeping his word; and when you hear the
+reason he gave me&mdash;if this is his reason&mdash;you'll gasp."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Dick, "although I've no right to ask you, I'd like to hear
+the plain, unvarnished tale, for, speaking out, Phil Bourne has always
+passed for a decent, level fellow. This business, somehow, doesn't seem
+his form at all, and it is only fair to him to say it."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see the match we had with Shannon's scratch team when the term
+began?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you notice anything about my play?"</p>
+
+<p>"You opened our eyes a bit, I remember."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I play roughly?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Not quite that! You were not gentle; but you aren't that as a rule,
+though your game is fair enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Not for Bourne. He doesn't like my game. I'm too rough. It's bad form,
+<i>pace</i> Bourne, therefore I'm barred my place in the eleven."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the explanation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Honour bright! Except"&mdash;Acton paused diplomatically for a
+moment&mdash;"except, I don't think he likes me."</p>
+
+<p>"Then Phil is a fool, and he'll find out pretty speedily that we can't
+stand rot of this quality. I, of course, can't take the cap."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, why in the world not? If you don't, some other house will
+get it. Biffen's deserves two fellows in the eleven this year."</p>
+
+<p>"They do, by Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then let us have the satisfaction of keeping out another Corker fellow."</p>
+
+<p>Dick told the other fellows plainly and without any gilding, his
+conversation with Acton, and they pressed him to go and see Phil
+personally; so Dick marched heavily to Bourne's quarters.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, Worcester, but I cannot explain anything. Not even to you. But I
+do hope you'll come into the eleven."</p>
+
+<p>Dick said shortly, "I think I shall, for Biffen's deserves the other cap,
+though the right fellow isn't getting it. By the way, Bourne, you'll not
+be very sweet to the school generally after this. They&mdash;the fellows&mdash;to a
+man, are no end cut up over Acton's treatment."</p>
+
+<p>"I supposed they would be. I knew it would be so."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Phil. You always did the square thing. Let us have the reason
+for this," said Dick, earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, Worcester, I can't."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, then."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night."</p>
+
+<p>The rage and consternation of the Biffenites when they found that Bourne
+was immovable in his decision can be imagined. Some were inclined to take
+the matter up to Corker's throne, but they were a miserable minority.</p>
+
+<p>"Let Corker have a finger in our own private affairs!" said Dick, with
+intense disgust. "What next, gentlemen? We won't be able to blow our own
+noses without his permission. Keep the masters out of this, whatever we
+do. Can't we see the thing through ourselves? I vote we try, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>Some were inclined to blame Dick for accepting the cap; but pretty
+generally it was agreed that, if Acton was not to have it, Dick was the
+next best man, but at what a distance! The honour of having two men in the
+eleven was no <i>solatium</i> for the wounded pride of Biffen's, when they
+considered their great injury. The reason, though, was, naturally, what
+puzzled them&mdash;and, for the matter of that, the whole school. Did Bourne
+expect his team to play footer as though it were a game of croquet? Were
+drawing-room manners to be introduced on to the Acres' clay? Were the
+famous eleven of St. Amory's to amble about, like a swarm of
+bread-and-butter misses? One wit suggested wadded coats and respirators.
+Acton rough, indeed! Phil Bourne must be an embodiment of his grandmother,
+then! Most of the fags in Biffen's house sent Phil elaborate instructions
+for "a nice drawing-room game to take the place of 'Socker'
+football&mdash;nasty, rough 'Socker' footer&mdash;for one-and-six, and guaranteed
+to do no injury to the most delicate constitution. A child can play it!"
+These letters were anonymous, of course; but Biffen's house-paper was
+freely used. "Anyhow," said Phil, with a gentle smile to me, "the spelling
+is obviously Biffen's."</p>
+
+<p>Acton went on his own way, serenely indifferent to his house, which would
+have made a god of him on the smallest provocation. He cheerfully ignored
+Bourne, and he had the art of never seeing Phil when they met, in school
+or out, though, of course, Phil minded this not at all. When the
+Carthusians were played, Acton spent the afternoon reading with Raven,
+whose exam, was now very near; and, whilst the two were grinding out all
+the absurd details of Horace and his patron, "and the poet's little farm,
+and the other rot which gains Perry Exhibitions," the shouts and cheers
+of the school down at the Acres came floating up the hill to their room.</p>
+
+<p>The school lost their match with the Carthusians&mdash;the match which a good
+St. Amorian would rather win than any two others&mdash;and it was plain that
+Dick, though a useful fellow, could not bottle up the forwards in the
+Actonian style. This defeat was the last straw to break the back of the
+school's patience.</p>
+
+<p>It was customary, after the Carthusian match, for the footer captain to
+give his eleven a formal tea, Phil arranged the usual preliminaries, sick
+at heart, and wearily certain as to the result. Three put in an
+appearance&mdash;Vercoe, Baines, and Roberts&mdash;and in place of the burly forms
+of the rest of the St. Amory's eleven, the sylph-like figures of their
+fags flitted to Phil's hall of entertainment with curt little notes.
+Worcester and the rest "regretted they were unable to avail themselves of
+the captain's invitation."</p>
+
+<p>The tea was not a success.</p>
+
+<p>The school followed the plain lead of the eleven, and as Phil hurried
+along to chapel the next day no one hooked in with him, as had been done
+"the day before yesterday!" He was left severely alone.</p>
+
+<p>In plain words, St Amory's School consigned Phil Bourne to Coventry.</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="VII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h3>THANKS TO ACTON</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>After the Carthusian match there was but one topic, or to be strictly
+accurate, perhaps, two topics of interest in the school&mdash;who would be
+cock-house at footer and who would get the Perry Exhibition.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the houses knew that Biffen's house was not now the
+unconsidered article it was once; that it wasn't the door-mat upon which
+any one might wipe his feet before proceeding into the inner circles of
+the housers' competition, and there was more than a little curiosity to
+see how far the "resurrected" house would mount.</p>
+
+<p>But not a single soul dreamt that it would reach the final. The whole
+school gasped for a fortnight on end as Biffen's annihilated Dover's,
+Hargen's, Sharpe's, and Merishall's <i>seriatim</i>, and at last faced
+Corker's house in the final. This was a resurrected house with a
+vengeance! Corker's had had a bye in the first round and had been drawn
+against rather rickety houses since, but they were generally fancied to
+pull off the final as usual, for Bourne was captain, and they had Hodgson
+and Roberts of the eleven as well. The wonderful progress of Biffen's had
+thrown an awful lot of excitement into the game.</p>
+
+<p>The match was fixed for the last Saturday in the term, and the result of
+the Perry Exhibition was to be announced on the evening of the same day,
+so the last Saturday was going to be the memorable day of the Michaelmas
+stretch.</p>
+
+<p>If you want a full account of the match you had better write to the editor
+of <i>The Amorian</i>. He will send you the magazine with a page or so of
+description and account, but all I'm going to say is that Bourne and Acton
+played as they had never played before&mdash;I think I've said that before
+about Acton, but he really was superlative in the housers' final&mdash;and that
+five minutes from time the score was "one all." Then Acton showed the
+school a stroke of genius. He brought Raven out from centre-forward, where
+he was quite unable to cope with Bourne, whispered him to go "back" with
+Worcester, and before any one could realize what was happening he was
+playing forward himself. He' was a "lambent flame along the ground" if you
+like. In a second Biffen's were swarming round Roberts in goal, Acton
+passed out to Chalmers, who was ready for the pass, and in a twinkling the
+ball was in the net. From the row you might have imagined the school had
+gone mad.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-3"><!-- Image 3 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 70%;">
+<a href="images/003.jpg">
+<img src="images/003.jpg" width="100%" alt="Acton Just Reached It With His Head." border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+Acton Just Reached It With His Head.</p>
+</div>
+<br />
+
+<p>The ball was kicked off again. Almost immediately Acton secured near the
+centre. He dribbled through the ruck of his opponents until he saw Bourne
+upon him. With a smile of triumph upon his lips he gently rolled the
+leather to Chalmers, who was hungrily waiting for the pass out on the
+touch-line. Chalmers waltzed beautifully for the short run almost to the
+corner flag. He steadied himself for one instant after his run, and then
+lifted the ball magnificently into the goal mouth. As the leather was
+skimming past, Acton just reached it with his head and deflected it high
+and dry out of Roberts' reach into the net. It was the supreme effort
+of his splendid game.</p>
+
+<p>Biffen's had won by three goals to one!</p>
+
+<p>They carried Acton off the field in ecstasy, and nearly scared Dame Biffen
+out of her wits by the "whisper" of "cock-house." Well, it certainly was
+unusual.</p>
+
+<p>After tea the whole of St. Amory's crowded into the Speech Room to hear
+the result of the Perry Exhibition. There would not be a fellow away, I
+should fancy, bar the cripples in the hospital, for there was no end of
+excitement. Was this to be another Biffen's triumph? Was Raven of the
+Fifth to beat Hodgson, the chosen of the Sixth, for the Perry? It was not
+to be expected that he would, but when the whisper circled round that
+Acton had '"coached" him in classics it was agreed that perhaps there
+would be another feather in Acton's cap.</p>
+
+<p>The masters were there on the platform in serried ranks, the whole fifty
+of them, from Corker to Pfenning who "does" the music.</p>
+
+<p>Corker, as usual, went straight to the mark, whilst the entire mass of
+fellows kept a death-like silence. "The result of the examination for the
+Perry Exhibition is as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div>
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">1st. Arthur Raven, 672 marks.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">2nd. Theodore Hodgson, 591 marks.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">3rd. Augustus Vernon Robert Todd, 114 marks.&quot;</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Then out broke the usual uproar, "shivering the silence," as some one
+says, "into clamour." We all cheered for Raven, who scored a popular and
+unexpected victory, for why should a Fifth Form fellow beat one of the
+Sixth? Biffen's crowd kept up the cheering until Corker rose again.</p>
+
+<p>"I can heartily congratulate Raven on his success, for his classical
+knowledge was distinctly good. Hodgson I can also congratulate, for his
+papers too were good. As for Augustus Vernon Robert Todd"&mdash;we all yelled
+with laughter as Dr. Moore scrambled in hot haste through Todd's awful
+list of names, but were again quiet when he dropped his eye-glasses from
+his eagle's beak, a sure sign he was going to "savage" somebody&mdash;"as for
+<i>his</i> performance in this <i>examination</i>, I can only regard it as
+a very bad practical joke, or as his <i>ballon d'essai</i> for some
+kindergarten scholarship."</p>
+
+<p>Raven got up from his seat near the door. He was pale to the lips, but his
+voice was clear and unhesitating. "If you please, sir, may I say a word?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, what?" said Corker. "Say a word? Oh, certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad indeed to hear that I have won the Perry Exhibition. I
+know in my own mind that I could never have beaten my friend Hodgson if I
+had not had Acton's help. I owe the winning of the Exhibition entirely to
+him, for he has read the whole of the classics with me and helped me in
+every way in his power. I cannot thank him enough for all he has done, but
+at least I owe him this open acknowledgment."</p>
+
+<p>Corker looked no end pleased, and turned round and beamed on Biffen, whose
+good-natured easy face shone with pleasure and delight.</p>
+
+<p>"Biffen," said good old Corker, audibly, "your house is fortunate in
+having Acton, and St. Amory such a good amateur coach in classics.
+Cock-house, too, bless me!"</p>
+
+<p>And can you wonder that Biffen's, frenzied with delight, carried Raven and
+Acton shoulder high through the gas-lit streets?</p>
+
+<p>Whilst the Biffenites were thus shouting their way home, one unhappy youth
+hurried to his room feeling as though the moon had fallen out of heaven
+and crushed him&mdash;Todd. After that night when he had made the bet with
+Cotton, he had neither worked for the Perry nor yet left it alone, but
+loafed about with Cotton as usual, and piffled with the work for the
+Exhibition. As a last-lap spurt, he had, in the last week or so,
+desperately stuffed himself with cunning tips leading twistingly to
+nowhere. Never had any one faced a serious examination with such a rag-bag
+of tips as Todd, and the examination had found him out with a vengeance.
+As he slunk along to his quarters, Corker's words were buzzing in his ears
+unendingly. "As for Augustus Vernon Robert Todd"&mdash;"<i>ballon
+d'essai</i>"&mdash;"Kindergarten!" Oh! it was a sickener, and how the fellows had
+laughed!</p>
+
+<p>As for his bet with Cotton about cock-house, why, he had, when he saw
+those goals put on at the last moment, felt a cold shiver run down his
+back. He had crawled off the Acres a sick and sorry and miserable wretch.
+Cotton had, being rather riled at his chum's temper for the last month,
+hinted, in unmistakable terms, that the debt was to be paid on return
+after holidays. Todd contemplated the ravishing prospect of the future
+with unmixed feelings. Between the upper and nether millstones of the lost
+Exhibition and the lost bet he had been crashed, annihilated!</p>
+
+<p>When he had shut the study door, in sheer despair of spirit, he laid his
+head on the table and&mdash;Well, did he blub? All I know is, the Rev. E.
+Taylor knocked at the door once, twice, thrice, and Todd heard him not.
+The house master came in and surveyed the bowed form of poor Gus with a
+good-natured smile, tempered with some scorn. He took the liberty of
+loudly poking Gus's decaying fire, whereat the young gentleman sprang up
+instanter.</p>
+
+<p>"I knocked, Todd, but I suppose you were thinking too deeply to hear me."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, sir," said Gus, hurriedly getting the master a chair, "and, as a
+matter of fact, I was thinking."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!"</p>
+
+<p>"What an awful ass I've been, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know quite about the ass, but
+you've certainly not been an epitome of all that's wise this term. It was
+on that very subject that I came here to have a word with you before we go
+for the holidays."</p>
+
+<p>Gus looked blankly into the grate.</p>
+
+<p>"This exhibition of yours, Todd, in the examination is just the answer you
+might expect to the problem you've set yourself. 'How can I get something
+of value by doing nothing for it?' I must say... etc." Taylor spoke very
+much to the point to Todd for about half an hour, taking the ribs out of
+Gus's conceit one by one, until he felt very much like a damp, damaged
+gamp, and about as helpless. One by one he took him through the catalogue
+of the aimless, stupid, footling performances in the term, and Gus blankly
+wondered how the dickens Taylor knew quite so much of his doings, He felt
+that the house master was not a bad imitation of Corker on a flaying
+expedition. I must say that Taylor's performance was a considerable trifle
+above the average "beak's wigging," but the sting of his discourse was in
+the tail. "Now, Todd, would you like me to ask Dr. Moore to transfer you
+to some other house, where your very intimate friends will not absorb so
+much of your time?"</p>
+
+<p>Todd blushed purple at this very broad hint.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather stay where I am; I am not quite an incapable, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I don't think you are&mdash;not quite. Dr. Moore, however, is somewhat out
+of patience with you, and proposes drastic measures."</p>
+
+<p>"Home?" inquired Todd, with gloomy conviction.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the house master. "Dr. Moore has written your father. But you
+are coming back next term, when you will have the chance of showing that
+that awful performance in the Exhibition is not your true form. I hope
+you'll take it."</p>
+
+<p>Todd said bitterly, "I will, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad of that," said Taylor, "and I believe you will. Good night,
+Todd."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Todd packed up his portmanteaux that night as gloomily and as savagely as
+though his shirts were his deadly enemies. But there was a square,
+determined thrust-out of his weak chin which boded ill for Jim Cotton's
+classics and mathematics in the future.</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="VIII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h3>BIFFEN'S CONCERT</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>It was the inalienable right of the juniors of the cock-house to give a
+concert the last night of the term, and to have free and undisputed
+possession of the concert-room. Corker made it a rule that the captain of
+the school should be there to see there were no riots, which, as the fags
+were off home on the morrow, was more than possible. So when I got a
+polite note from Grim about half an hour after the results of the Perry
+Exhibition had been announced, telling me that Corker had given the
+customary consent, I strolled about looking up a cohort of monitors to
+help me in maintaining the "sacred cause of order and decency." I knew of
+old those junior concerts. "Pandemonium" was nearer the word.</p>
+
+<p>Biffen's juniors, red-hot from their exertions and hoarse from their
+shouting in the speech-room, held a meeting in their own private quarters
+to deliberate as to their concert.</p>
+
+<p>"I vote Father Grim to the chair," said Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, my son," said Grim, with alacrity "Somebody second that, and
+let's get to business."</p>
+
+<p>Somebody obligingly seconded, and Grim enthroned himself with dignity in
+the chair, and said cheerfully, "Carried <i>nem. con.</i> That's the way
+to commence biz. Now, you fellows, I thank you for this unexpected honour,
+which has quite taken me by surprise. I shall always&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up, Grim," said Brown. "You know jolly well you asked Wilson to
+propose you."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Brown; I'll talk with you afterwards. Sorry your Roman nose is
+out of joint; but nobody proposed you, you know, so shut up. Gentlemen&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hear, hear!"</p>
+
+<p>"Biffen's are cock-house at last" (deafening cheers) "and we must make our
+concert a stunner. It must go with a bang from start to finish. It must
+lick every other fag's concert that ever was, and 'be the bright harbinger
+of&mdash;'What is the rest of the quote, Wilson?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Of future joys,' you ass."</p>
+
+<p>"'Of future joys,' you asses."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll punch your head, Grim; you said you remembered it."</p>
+
+<p>"All serene, old man, never mind the cackle."</p>
+
+<p>"What about our concert?" asked Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"It's going to be great. Does any one happen to have a programme of that
+awful performance of Corker's house last year?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather!" said half a dozen of Biffen's ornaments. "Did you think we'd
+burn a curiosity like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cut out and get yours, Rogers, my pet."</p>
+
+<p>"My pet" bolted and came back with the year-old programme of the Corker's
+fags.</p>
+
+<p>"Pass the abomination this way, Rogers. Gentlemen," said Grim, with
+intense scorn, "those unspeakable Corker asses started off with a
+prologue."</p>
+
+<p>"We must go one better&mdash;eh, you fellows?" said Rogers.</p>
+
+<p>"Rather!" they all shrieked.</p>
+
+<p>"I vote," said young Cherry, "that we lead off with an epilogue. That will
+leave 'em standing."</p>
+
+<p>"Hear, hear!" said Fruity.</p>
+
+<p>"Who'll second that?" said Grim.</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said Rogers, cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Then do it, you ass," said the chairman.</p>
+
+<p>"I second," said Rogers, hurriedly, "and you needn't be so beastly strict,
+Grim."</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen, the proposal before the meeting is that we lead off with an
+epilogue. Item number one on the programme to be 'An Epilogue.' Those in
+favour signify. Carried unanimously."</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Grim, what is an epilogue, anyhow?" said a voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say," said the chairman, "pass that young ignoramus this way. Lamb,
+do you mean to say you don't know what an epilogue is?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"This is sickening," said Grim, with disgust. "A fellow in Biffen's not
+know what an epilogue is! Tell him, Fruity," he added, with pathetic
+vexation.</p>
+
+<p>"He asked you," said Cherry, hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm the chairman," said Grim, in a wax, but with great relief. "Explain
+away, Fruity!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, every first-class concert starts with one," he said vaguely.</p>
+
+<p>"See now, Lamb?"</p>
+
+<p>Lamb professed himself satisfied, but he did not appear absolutely blinded
+by the light either.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow," said Wilson, "Fruity will see to that. I propose he does."</p>
+
+<p>"I second it," said Lamb, viciously, whereupon Cherry kicked the seconder
+on the shins, for he did not exactly thirst for that honour. "I'm an
+ass," he said to himself; "but, anyhow, I'll look up what the blessed word
+does mean, and try to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Grim, "they've got a poem on 'Cock House' for number two.
+That seems all right, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; it's always done."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we'll have one too, eh? Who's got to do the poetry, though?
+Somebody propose somebody"&mdash;thereupon every fag proposed his chiefest
+enemy, and the battles raged along the line. "And you call yourselves
+gentlemen!" said Grim in disgust&mdash;he had been overlooked for the time
+being.</p>
+
+<p>"I propose Sharpe," said Wilson, dusting himself. "He does no end swell
+construes from 'Ovid.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I second that," said Rogers. "He has long hair. Poets always have. Milton
+had."</p>
+
+<p>"That bit is <i>side,</i>" said the chairman, judicially. "Those who are
+in favour of Sharpe doing the poetry hold&mdash;Carried, <i>nem. con.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nem. con</i>. is side too, Grim," said Rogers.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up, you mule! Sharpe, you'll have to do the poem."</p>
+
+<p>"I say, you fellows, it will be horse work," said Sharpe, disconsolately.
+"There isn't a rhyme to Biffen's."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! isn't there? What about 'spiffing'?"</p>
+
+<p>Sharpe choked.</p>
+
+<p>"Griffin."</p>
+
+<p>"Tiffin."</p>
+
+<p>Lamb squeaked out "stiff 'un," and some one gently led him out&mdash;even
+Biffen's fags caved in at that.</p>
+
+<p>"Sharpe, you're booked for number two, old man. Gentlemen, I direct your
+attention to number three&mdash;Corker's did Indian clubs and the gold-fish
+dodge."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well," said Wilson, "we're not going to copy Corker's, anyhow. Let's
+do dumb-bells and something else."</p>
+
+<p>"I propose that Wilson does the something else," said Cherry,
+good-naturedly.</p>
+
+<p>Wilson said he was ready to do something to Cherry any time that was
+convenient. Rogers suggested that they ask the niggers to do something on
+the bars, and Sharpe seconded it, so the dervishes were written to and
+promised a scragging if they didn't turn themselves inside out for the
+glory of Biffen's concert.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, you fellows," said Grim, "it's to be a concert, you know, and
+except for Fruity's epilogue there isn't any music down yet." Cherry
+groaned to think he'd been let in for a song.</p>
+
+<p>"What about Thurston?" asked half a dozen of the fags.</p>
+
+<p>"Right, oh! Now, 'Dicky Bird,' hop up to the front, and trot out your
+list."</p>
+
+<p>Thurston wasn't shy, and rather fancied his bleat, so he said, "Oh! I
+don't mind at all."</p>
+
+<p>"We thought you wouldn't," said the chairman, winking.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say to 'Alice, where art thou'?"</p>
+
+<p>"We don't fancy your shouting five minutes for her at all. Next, please."</p>
+
+<p>"'Only to see her face again,' then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whose?" said Sharpe, irreverently.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the girl's the fellow is singing about," said Thurston, hotly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! you'll see her the day after to-morrow, Dicky Bird, so don't you fret
+about that now. Do you know 'My first cigar'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean the one that sent you to hospital, Grimmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No I don't. None of your cheek. I'm chairman. I mean the one Corney Grain
+used to sing."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you sing that and you'll make the fellows die with laughing. And
+mind you illustrate it with plenty of life-like pantomime, do you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Carried, <i>nem. con</i>.," shouted all the fags with enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>"Hear, hear, Grimmy!"</p>
+
+<p>"So that's settled for you, and if you get an encore, Dicky Bird, you can
+trot 'Alice' out if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"Which of the fellows have we to invite out of the eleven to help us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Acton," was the universal yell.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see him, then, to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Three cheers for Acton," said someone, and the roof echoed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we're getting on, and I say, you chaps, I have an idea."</p>
+
+<p>"Hear, hear!" said Cherry, acidly; "Grimmy <i>has</i> an idea."</p>
+
+<p>"A grand idea, Fruity. Your epilogue isn't in it."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Grim?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have a boxing competition open to St. Amory's juniors only. Rogers
+should pull that off, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather," said they all. "One more feather in Biffen's cap.".</p>
+
+<p>"But, Grimmy," said Rogers, "I don't last, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said the chairman, brilliantly, "we'll only have one two-minutes'
+round each draw. It will go by points. You're safe as a house, my pet,
+really."</p>
+
+<p>"Who'll be judge about points? I propose you, Grim," said Rogers, with
+intent.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, old cock, but I really couldn't do the honourable if you were
+'rocky' in the last rounds. We'll ask Carr to see us through that part.
+You'll be all right, I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's to accompany on the P and O?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Brown must see to that!"</p>
+
+<p>"I propose Brown key-thumper."</p>
+
+<p>"I second that."</p>
+
+<p>"Carried," said the chair, smartly.</p>
+
+<p>"I say," said Grim, "I propose myself stage manager. I'm the only fellow
+who knows a ha'porth about it."</p>
+
+<p>"A ha'porth is an awful lot; besides, a chairman can't propose himself,"
+said Cherry, revengefully.</p>
+
+<p>"I second the chairman's proposal," said Wilson, backing up his chum.</p>
+
+<p>"Carried, <i>nem. con</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm hanged if it was!" said Cherry. "You're a fraud, Grimmy."</p>
+
+<p>"All right now, you chaps, the meeting is over. Wilson and I will go up to
+Acton, and see what he'll do for us, and then we'll rough out a swagger
+programme."</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="IX"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h3>THE END OF TERM</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>The two worthies, Grim and Wilson, after seeing Acton, began to get out
+their programme. Here it is:&mdash;</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<div style="margin-left: 20%;">
+  <table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="1" width="65%" summary="Programme">
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center" class="sc">Biffen's Junior's Concert.</td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center"><i>Cock House, December, 1898.</i></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%" valign="top" align="right">(1)</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center">Epilogue.<br />
+      <span class="sc">B.A.M. Cherry.</span></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%" valign="top" align="right">(2)</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center">Poem on the subject of Cock House.<br />
+      <span class="sc">B. Sharpe.</span></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%" valign="top" align="right">(3)</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center">Bar Act.</td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%" valign="top" align="right">(4)</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center">First Round Junior Boxing Competition.<br />
+      <span class="sc">Prince Runjit Mehtah and Ram Singh.</span></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%" valign="top" align="right">(5)</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center"><span class="sc">Song</span>. &quot;My First Cigar.&quot;<br />
+      <span class="sc">R.E. Thurston.</span></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%" valign="top" align="right">(6)</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center"><span class="sc">Pianoforte Solo.</span>. &quot;Oh! listen to the band.&quot;<br />
+      <span class="sc">O. Brown.</span></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%" valign="top" align="right">(7)</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center">Second Round Boxing.</td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%" valign="top" align="right">(8)</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center"><span class="sc">Song.</span>. &quot;Jim.&quot;<br />
+      <span class="sc">J. Acton, Esq.</span></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%" valign="top" align="right">(9)</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center">Third and Concluding Rounds Boxing.</td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%" valign="top" align="right">(10)</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center"><span class="sc">Song.</span>. &quot;Well, suppose you did?&quot;<br />
+      <span class="sc">R.E. Thurston.</span></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center"><span class="sc">God Save The Queen.</span></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center"><span class="sc">Accompanist. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O.E. Brown.</span></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td width="10%">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td width="90%" align="center"><span class="sc">Stage Manager. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; W.E. Grim.</span></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" align="left"><blockquote><span class="sc">N.B.</span>&mdash;The Manager begs to state that there will be no Latin
+or classical allusions throughout the evening. No waits. No charge for programmes. No antediluvian jokes.</blockquote></td>
+    </tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>This was printed on paper blushing pink&mdash;Biffen's colours&mdash;and Grim and
+Wilson, when they got the advance proof last thing on Saturday night,
+almost embraced in their jubilation. There was such a swagger look about
+the "N.B."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile B.A.M. Cherry had consulted his dictionary, and therein found
+that an "epilogue" was defined as "a concluding speech in an oration or
+play." He broke into a cold sweat of horror. That was an epilogue, then!
+Where could he find one? What would be the good of one if he did find it?
+And supposing he had one and could recite it, it was at the wrong end of
+the programme&mdash;the programme which had already been printed in such hot
+haste? It was too late to tell Grim, who would have instantly summoned all
+the strength of Biffen's to scrag him. The wretched Cherry shuddered at
+his awful plight.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing could he do or dare he do. In desperation he determined to fall
+ill on the concert night. B.A.M. Cherry hadn't the heroic soul, and when
+Grim asked him cheerfully how the epilogue was going on, he said
+"spiffing," in the tone of a martyr at the stake.</p>
+
+<p>On the Monday Grim scuttled about all day&mdash;now on the stage, listening to
+Thurston going over his songs with Brown, now getting entries for his
+boxing competition, now encouraging Sharpe, who was in the throes of
+composition, and now criticizing the Dervishes with much force. Acton put
+in an appearance in the concert-room, and gave Brown the accompaniment to
+"Jim;" and, after hearing him play it through, went and read his novel the
+rest of his spare time.</p>
+
+<p>At 7.30 the juniors of St. Amory's began to stroll in, Biffen's lot
+collaring the front seats as per custom. The programmes were distributed
+to each one as he came in, and created no end of sensation, and W.E. Grim
+was allowed to have come out very strong in the programme line. St.
+Amory's fags did not spot anything wrong about item one, but the older
+fellows chuckled a little and said "the manager was a funny ass." This
+opinion was instantly conveyed to Grim by one of his cronies, and made
+that young gentleman think himself no end of a sly dog.</p>
+
+<p>Punctually to the minute Grim rang his bell, and, darting into the
+dressing-room, said, "Now, Cherry, come along with your epilogue, They're
+all waiting. Where is that ass?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cherry has not turned up yet, Grim."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" he said in horror.</p>
+
+<p>"Not turned up yet!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go and fetch the beggar at once."</p>
+
+<p>Grim darted out of the room, tore along the street, and was hammering at
+Cherry's door within the minute.</p>
+
+<p>"Fruity, hurry up, they're all waiting."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not well, Grim."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not well&mdash;I'm in bed."</p>
+
+<p>"You miserable beast!" shouted Grim. "I'll massacre you. You'll make us
+the laughing stock of the whole school. Get up, man, Be a man."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm ill," moaned Cherry from within.</p>
+
+<p>"You miserable beast! You'll be dead to-morrow." He shook the door
+violently, but Cherry was not quite the utter fool Grim took him for, for
+he had locked the door. Grim stood outside on the corridor for some
+seconds, petrified with rage and disgust, and then flew like a madman back
+to the concert-room. He cannoned up against some one leisurely strolling
+up to the dressing-room, and was darting on again <i>sans</i> apology. A
+hand gently closed upon his collar and pulled him back.</p>
+
+<p>"Hallo, young shaver! Little boys used to apologize when they&mdash;Why,
+it's Grim! What in the name&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Grim, almost blubbing with anger and shame, poured out his tale, and Acton
+listened with an amused smile. "Sheer funk, Grim. Well, go on, and tell
+'em their Cherry has rotted, but that I'll come and tell 'em a little tale
+instead."</p>
+
+<p>Grim would have embraced Acton if he'd been a little taller, but he
+gurgled, "Acton, you <i>are</i> a brick," and darted on to the stage.</p>
+
+<p>He was received with deafening cheers, and shrieks of "No waits!"
+"Manager!" "Don't hurry, Grim!" "We'll send out for supper!" "We want
+Cherry!" "Go off," etc.</p>
+
+<p>When Grim could get a word in he panted, "Gentlemen, I am sorry to say
+B.A.M. Cherry is indisposed and cannot favour you with the epilogue."</p>
+
+<p>"Funked it!" roared all the delighted juniors.</p>
+
+<p>"He says he is unwell," said Grim, anger getting the better of him, "but
+he'll be a jolly sight worse in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>There was a hurricane of thunderous cheers at this sally, but Grim managed
+to shout above the laughing, "I have great pleasure in announcing that
+John Acton, Esq., will take Fruity's&mdash;I mean Cherry's&mdash;place and tell you
+a little tale; even Corker fags will understand it," added Grim,
+viciously.</p>
+
+<p>Acton came on and received his hearty welcome with easy good nature. He
+plunged right into his contribution: "A London cabby's account of his
+different fares"&mdash;from the double-superfine gilt-edged individual to the
+fat old dowager who <i>will</i> have the parrot inside with her. Acton
+gave it perfectly. Grim, who had his ears glued to the exit door, vowed he
+could almost hear the swell drop his eyeglass.</p>
+
+<p>Sharpe stepped on to the stage amid the polite attentions of his natural
+enemies. "Be a man, Sharpe." "Don't cry." "You'll see mamma soon." "Speak
+up." "He did it all alone, remember." "No help." "Oh, dear no!"</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"When on the bosom of the sleeping pool,</span><br />
+<span>That's shaded o'er by trees in greenest dress,</span><br />
+<span>Upon its breast of snow its gem of gold</span><br />
+<span>The water lily swims&mdash;&mdash;"</span><br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The juniors howled with dismay at this commencement, and Corker juniors
+instantly began to keep time to Sharpe's delivery in the organ-grinder's
+fashion. But Sharpe toiled remorselessly on. He compared Biffen's house to
+a water lily growing in a muddy pond, and again as a Phoenix risen from
+the ashes; and he gave us, with circumstantial details, every round of the
+footer housers, their two eleven caps, and the Perry Exhibition, and
+darkly hinted at Acton's exclusion from the eleven.</p>
+
+<p>He wound up his awful farrago in one glorious burst of solemn fury&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>"And even Fate girds on her sword, and her right arm she stiffens,</span><br />
+<span>As thunders to the icy pole the glorious name of Biffen's."</span><br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p>When Sharpe finally made his bow, according to the invariable custom,
+every junior except a Biffenite imitated with rare fidelity the mixed
+sensations of channel passengers after a stormy passage.</p>
+
+<p>Sharpe, cheered to the echo by the Biffenites on the front row, went
+proudly off.</p>
+
+<p>The Dervishes were received with enthusiasm, and went through their
+performance to the shouts of "Well wriggled, Java!" "Why don't you oil!"
+"Do it again&mdash;orang-outang!" They amiably smiled acknowledgments as they
+backed away.</p>
+
+<p>Then I myself stepped on to the stage, prepared to judge the two-minutes'
+rounds. Grim had whipped up sixteen fags, each willing to do battle for
+the honour of his house. The rounds proceeded to the accompaniment of
+ear-splitting encouragement, and I had the satisfaction of knowing that
+not a solitary one of the defeated heroes thought he had really been
+beaten on points.</p>
+
+<p>No mistake about it, Biffen's had a fag who could sing. Thurston's "My
+First Cigar" only lacked one thing&mdash;it should have lasted a little longer
+to suit the audience.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>&quot;She called it an Intimidad,<br /></span>
+<span>&nbsp;&nbsp;It had spots of a yellowish hue,<br /></span>
+<span>She said the best brands always had,<br /></span>
+<span>&nbsp;&nbsp;And I firmly believed it was true.&quot;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>A good number of the fellows knew "The Soldiers in the Park," and Brown
+hammered it out in a good old breezy style.</p>
+
+<p>As he was racing home, and the jolly chorus was crashing out from the
+piano, one fag started "Oh, listen to the band!"</p>
+
+<p>Instantly the whole school, juniors and seniors as well, joined in the
+chorus, keeping time with their feet.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>&quot;Oh, listen to the band!<br /></span>
+<span>&nbsp;&nbsp;Who doesn't love to hark<br /></span>
+<span>To the shout of 'Here they come'<br /></span>
+<span>&nbsp;&nbsp;And the banging of the drum&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Oh, listen to the soldiers in the park.&quot;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>When the dust had settled, every one acknowledged that Biffen's concert
+was going with a bang. I am not going to bore you with a longer account of
+Biffen's concert. Thurston sang "Alice, where art thou?" the fellows
+telling him between the verses that "She wasn't going to come," "Spoony
+songs barred," etc., and Rogers carried off the fags' boxing competition
+with a big rush in the final round, and Biffen's crew howled with delight.</p>
+
+<p>Finally the bell rang for Acton's song. Brown rattled through the
+preliminary bars, and the song commenced. The singer held himself slightly
+forward, in a rather stiff and awkward fashion, and his eyes were staring
+intently into vacancy. There was not the shadow of a shade of any
+expression in his face. A feeling of pity for Acton was the universal
+sensation when the first words fell from his lips. Acton had not the ghost
+of a singing voice, and the school shuddered at the awful exhibition.
+There was an icy silence, but Acton croaked remorselessly on. This is the
+song:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>&quot;Jim and I as children played together,<br /></span>
+<span>&nbsp;&nbsp;Best of chums for many years were we;<br /></span>
+<span>I had no luck&mdash;was, alas! a Jonah;<br /></span>
+<span>&nbsp;&nbsp;Jim, my chum, was lucky as could be.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oh, lucky Jim! How I envied him!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&quot;Years rolled by, and death took Jim away, boys,<br /></span>
+<span>&nbsp;&nbsp;Left his widow, and she married me;<br /></span>
+<span>Now we're married oft I think of Jim, boys,<br /></span>
+<span>&nbsp;&nbsp;Sleeping in that churchyard by the sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy him!&quot;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>As the words followed on there was a suggestion of oddity in that awful
+voice singing a comic song, and there were a few suppressed laughs at the
+idea. As the song progressed, the utter dreary weariness of the voice, and
+the rather funny words, compelled the fellows to laugh in uncontrollable
+bursts; but still Acton never turned a hair. When he arrived at the
+churchyard lines there was one universal howl of delight. Brown stopped
+dead at the end of the second last line, and Acton stopped dead too.
+Instantly all the fellows became as mute as fish. The singer straightened
+himself up, looked round the room with a mocking smile while one might
+count a dozen, and then winked to Brown, who recommenced softly on the
+piano. Then Acton <i>sang</i> slowly and deliberately&mdash;sang with a voice
+as clear and as tunable as a silver bell&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&quot;Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy him!&quot;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>His croak was a pretence&mdash;he had hoaxed us all! Before we recovered from
+our stupefaction he had vanished. The school clamoured for his return,
+but though they cheered for three minutes on end Acton did not reappear,
+and Brown struck up "God save the Queen!" Biffen's concert was at an end!</p>
+
+<p>Grim held a five minutes' meeting among the Biffenites before bed.</p>
+
+<p>"There's never been a fellow like Acton in St. Amory's. He goes away at
+nine to-morrow. The Great Midland are going to stop their express to pick
+up St. Amory fellows, and Acton goes up to his place by that. I vote we
+all go in a body to the station and cheer him off. We keep it dark, of
+course." This <i>staccato</i> oration was agreed to with acclamation, and
+Biffenites went to bed happy.</p>
+
+<p>On the morrow Acton strolled into the station and espied the Biffenites,
+who were scattered up and down the platform with careful carelessness.
+The train came in, and at once the juniors crowded <i>en masse</i> round
+the carriage in which Acton had secured a corner seat, and stood talking
+to Grim, who was in fine feather.</p>
+
+<p>At that very moment Phil Bourne and young Jack Bourne bustled into the
+station. An idea struck Rogers, and he said to all his chums, "Here's
+Bourne, you fellows; let him know we see him."</p>
+
+<p>The fags were delighted, and when Bourne entered the carriage next
+Acton's there was a long-drawn-out hoot for his especial benefit.</p>
+
+<p>"Another," said Rogers, whereat more soulful groans.</p>
+
+<p>"The last," said Rogers, and Bourne took his seat to a chorus of hisses
+and tortured howls. He smiled a little and opened his paper, while the
+people in the carriage looked curiously at him.</p>
+
+<p>The guard's whistle went and Acton sprang in. "Good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>As the train moved, Grim said, "Three cheers for Acton!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah!"</p>
+
+<p>"A groan for Bourne!" Acton smiled good naturedly to his henchmen. As he
+glided past he said to himself softly, "And yet I have not quite hoed all
+my row out either, Bourne. Wait, my friend, wait!"</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-4"><!-- Image 4 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 85%;">
+<a href="images/004.jpg">
+<img src="images/004.jpg" width="100%"
+alt="As The Train Moved, Grim Said, &quot;three Cheers!&quot;" border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+As The Train Moved, Grim Said, "Three Cheers!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="X"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h3>THE YOUNG BROTHER</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>When St. Amory's reassembled after the holidays Acton found himself
+firmly established in the good graces of the fellows, and, indeed, he was
+not far from being the most popular fellow in the place, but poor Phil
+was looked coldly upon by those who had been his chiefest friends, and,
+by those who knew little of him, he passed for a jealous bounder. Acton
+played up to his cards in beautiful style, and acted the forgiving
+innocent splendidly; but Phil, who was only a very honest fellow, did not
+play anything to speak of. Those who gave him the cold shoulder once
+never had a second chance of showing it him, for Phil was no end proud;
+but he had still one or two friends, who condoned his passing of Acton
+for the "footer" cap on the ground of "insufficient information" thereon.
+Roberts and Baines and Vercoe were not a bad trio to have for friends
+either. Acton was now in the Sixth, and a monitor.</p>
+
+<p>His main idea was to keep Bourne in the bad books of the school until
+such time as he could direct their ill-favour into channels favourable to
+himself and unfavourable for Phil. A lucky chance seemed to open to him
+an easy method of striking at Bourne, and Acton almost hugged himself
+with joy at his windfall.</p>
+
+<p>About a week after the holidays Acton had been skating on the Marsh, and
+as he was returning he came across Jack Bourne engaged in a desperate
+fight with a young yokel. There was a small crowd of loafers, who were
+delighted at this little turn up, and were loud in their advice to the
+fellow to give "the young swell a good hiding."</p>
+
+<p>This little crowd, as I said, caught Acton's eye, and when he perceived
+that one of the fighters was a St. Amory fellow, he hurried up to see
+what was the little game.</p>
+
+<p>Young Bourne was getting the worst of it. The yokel was a year or two
+older, was taller, and stones heavier. It was an unequal fight. Bourne
+was standing up to his man pluckily, and, thanks to the "agricultural"
+style of the clodhopper, was not taking nearly so much harm as he should
+have done. He was, however, pretty low down in the mouth, for there was
+not a friendly eye to encourage him, nor a friendly shout to back him up.
+On the contrary, the mob howled with delight as their man got "home," and
+encouraged him: "Gow it, Dick! Knock the stuffin' out of 'im!"</p>
+
+<p>Acton had not been noticed, but he thrust himself into the mob, and
+said, "Stand back, you little beggars, or I'll massacre the lot of you.
+Give the boy room, you filthy pigs!" The "pigs" scuttled back, and for
+the first time Bourne really had fair play.</p>
+
+<p>Acton took out his watch and assumed the direction of the fight.</p>
+
+<p>"Time!" he shouted out. "You fellow, that's your corner, and if you stir
+out of it before I give the word I'll thrash you within an inch of your
+life. This will be ours, Bourne." He strode in between the two, and
+pushed the yokel among his friends, whilst he dragged Bourne a little
+apart.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks awfully, Acton. That beast knocked me off the path into the
+snow-heap when he saw I was one of the school. I struck him, but he's a
+big handful."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk, Bourne," said Acton, grimly. "It's only wasting breath. Keep
+cool, man, and you will pull it off yet."</p>
+
+<p>Thanks to Acton's encouragement, young Bourne worked along ever so much
+better, so that when time was called he had taken no damage practically,
+but had scored a little on his own account.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down on my coat. You're doing famously. Whatever you do, don't let
+him swing you one in the face. You'll be snuffed out if you do. Keep him
+out at any cost, and try an upper cut after he swings. Waste no time
+after he's missed."</p>
+
+<p>But although young Bourne scored no end in the next few rounds by
+following Acton's advice, his good efforts seemed wasted. The lout's face
+was as hard as a butcher's block. Acton saw that Bourne was visibly
+tiring, and that it was an almost foregone conclusion that in the end he
+would be beaten. He could hardly stall off the fellow's attack.</p>
+
+<p>After the seventh round Acton saw that he must put all to the touch, or
+Bourne would lose. "Listen carefully, young 'un. You're jolly game, and
+that's a fact, but there's no good hammering on the fool's face&mdash;he can't
+feel. You must try another trick. It's the last in your box, too, Bourne,
+so make no mistake. St. Amory's for ever! When he swings, duck. Don't try
+to ward him off&mdash;he'll beat you down. Then, for all you're worth, drive
+home with your left on the jaw. On the jaw for all you're worth. You've
+seen the sergeant do it dozens of times in the gym. Keep cool, and look
+when you hit&mdash;on the very peak. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather!" said Jack, coolly but wearily.</p>
+
+<p>"Time!"</p>
+
+<p>The yokel came on in all the pride of his beefy strength, for ha knew
+that he was going to finish the "swell" this round. He swung. Bourne
+ducked, and then, quick as lightning, the lad closed in, and, with the
+last ounce he had in him, drove his left on the jaw. He was true to a
+hair.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Habet!</i>" shouted Acton. "Don't give him time, Jack. Send him down
+if you can."</p>
+
+<p>Bourne's "point" had the usual effect; the lout's head swam, he felt sick
+and sorry, and could not even ward off Jack's blows. He backed, Jack
+scoring like mad all the time, and when Acton finally called "time!" he
+dropped on to the ground blubbing. The fellow's eye was visibly swelling,
+his lips were cut, and his nose bled villainously.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-5"><!-- Image 5 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 55%;">
+<a href="images/005.jpg">
+<img src="images/005.jpg" width="100%" alt="Acton Threw Him Into The Snow-Heap." border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+Acton Threw Him Into The Snow-heap.</p>
+</div>
+<br />
+
+<p>"The pig bleeds," said Acton, cheerfully. "You have him now, Bourne; he's
+too sick to have an ounce of fight left in him. Time!"</p>
+
+<p>The next round wasn't a round really; it was a procession, with Bourne,
+as fresh as paint from his success, following up the other blubbing with
+rage, pain, and sickness. Before Acton called, the fellow dropped to the
+ground and howled dismally.</p>
+
+<p>"Get your coat, Jack, and then come here. He's done. Stand back, you
+others."</p>
+
+<p>Jack came back.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, you pig, get up and apologize to this gentleman for having knocked
+him into the snow-heap. I suppose your pig's eyes couldn't see he was
+only half your size." Acton got hold of the fellow by the collar and
+jerked him to his feet. "Apologize."</p>
+
+<p>The fellow would not understand; he snivelled obstinately, and struggled
+aimlessly in Acton's grasp.</p>
+
+<p>"Apologize."</p>
+
+<p>"I wown't."</p>
+
+<p>"Good," said Acton, grimly. With his flat hand he gave the fellow a
+thundering cuff which sent him sprawling. Acton then caught him by the
+scruff of his neck and threw him headlong into the snow-heap.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, Bourne," he said, with a smile. "You have fought a good
+fight this day, and no mistake. That fellow will have a fit the next and
+every time he sees the smallest St. Amory's fag's cap."</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Acton, you're an awful brick to back me up like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention it, Bourne. Come and have some tea with me, and I'll pour
+oil into your wounds, or at any rate, I'll paint 'em."</p>
+
+<p>So young Bourne had tea with Acton, and his host went out afterwards to
+Dann's the chemist's and brought back a camel's-hair brush and some
+lotion. Thanks to this, Jack's scars appeared as very honourable wounds
+indeed.</p>
+
+<p>From that day Jack thought Acton the finest fellow in St. Amory's.</p>
+
+<p>"He did not spread-eagle that fool," he said to himself, "but let me have
+the glory of pounding the ugly brute into jelly, and made me go in and
+win when I was ready to give in to the cad. Why did not Phil give him his
+cap? There's something rotten somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>As for Acton, as I said before, he regarded this little incident as a
+treasure trove upon which he could draw almost unlimitedly in his
+campaign against Bourne. "I'll strike at Bourne, senr., through his young
+brother. I'll train him up in the way he should go, and when our
+unspeakable prig of a Philip sees what a beautiful article young Jack
+finally emerges, he'll wish he'd left me alone. Jack, my boy, I'm sorry,
+but I'm going to make you a bad boy, just to give your elder brother
+something to think about. You're going to become a terrible monster of
+iniquity, just to shock your reverend brother."</p>
+
+<p>Acton took not the smallest interest in the usual Easter Term games.
+Footer was only played occasionally, but there was one blessing, the
+fellows need not play the usual Thursday Old Game. As for cross-country
+running, paper chases, <i>et hoc genus omne</i>, Acton refused to have
+anything to do with them. "That sort," he said to Dick Worcester, "isn't
+in the same street with footer."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not try and lift the Public School Heavy at Aldershot?" suggested
+Worcester.</p>
+
+<p>"There's Hodgson in for it, Dick."</p>
+
+<p>"A good man; but if you would only apply yourself seriously to the
+business I'd back you. You're a good weight, and got a longer reach than
+Hodgson."</p>
+
+<p>"There's Bourne, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Personally, I believe Phil is only pacing Hodgson to take him along
+quicker."</p>
+
+<p>"It's an awful fag, and I believe Eton have got the Heavy safe and sure
+this year. A cousin of mine there says that their pet, Jarvis, would walk
+right through the best man we've ever turned out."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's their usual brag!"</p>
+
+<p>"Personally, I don't think so. They have got a young Bermondsey
+professor&mdash;who is up to all the latest dodges&mdash;to coach. Our sergeant is
+a bit old-fashioned&mdash;good, but old-fashioned. Does not do enough with his
+right."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm quite an amateur," said Dick. "Don't understand the finer shades of
+the arts. Should have thought the sergeant good enough."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Dubito!</i> Anyhow, Dick, I'll think it over; and if I think I can
+make a decent show I'll have a shot. When does it come off?"
+
+"At Aldershot? Oh!&mdash;last week in March."</p>
+
+<p>"That gives me nearly two months. One can turn round in two months; and
+if I'm satisfied as to my coaching I'll certainly try at Aldershot. But
+what has a fellow to do on the half-holidays now? No footer, and one
+might do enough practice after tea for the Heavy. I wish Kipling would
+write a book every week. He is the only fellow in England who can write."</p>
+
+<p>So Acton, on the half-holidays, prepared to read his novels by his
+fireside. Not that he was particularly fond of toasting himself, but
+because, for him, it was all he could do.</p>
+
+<p>But Corker came to his rescue. The old man, after having had his back to
+the wall for an age, consented to monitors being allowed to cycle by
+themselves, and even to be <i>chaperon</i> to any fags who cared to run
+with them, and&mdash;important <i>proviso</i>&mdash;whom the monitors did not
+object to. Otherwise the old rule of no cycling <i>sans</i> house-master
+was in force.</p>
+
+<p>Acton thereupon invested in a swell machine, and he and young Bourne, or
+Grim, or Wilson on the hired article, would cover no end of country
+between dinner and roll call.</p>
+
+<p>By-and-by Phil noticed that his brother was getting pretty thick with
+Acton.</p>
+
+<p>"Rather thick with Acton, Jack? I don't think he'll do you any good."</p>
+
+<p>"He has, anyhow, Phil."</p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>Jack explained.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you licked the animal, young 'un; but, all the same, I wish
+some other fellow had seen you through."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't!" said Jack, hotly.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," said Phil, dryly, "what is the great attraction which a Sixth
+Form fellow sees in a fag? Above all, a fag of the name of Bourne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fact is, I don't see it myself," said Jack, shortly. "Better ask him."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't think I shall. All the same, I would not dog Acton's
+footsteps quite so much."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a monitor."</p>
+
+<p>"Who'll make you useful. Take my word for it."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Certainly we shall."</p>
+
+<p>Jack was thoroughly unhinged by his brother's dry bantering tone, and
+said hotly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot understand, Phil, why he didn't get his cap. He deserved it."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no need for you to understand it, young 'un."</p>
+
+<p>"My opinion is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not worth the breath you're going to waste."</p>
+
+<p>"It's considered a shame pretty generally."</p>
+
+<p>"I've heard so; but, still, that does not alter matters. However, I did
+not want to talk politics with you, Jack. Don't put your innocent little
+toes into any scrape&mdash;that is all I wanted to tell you. Here is half a
+crown for you to buy butterscotch, and while you're sucking it think over
+what I've said. What! Little boys given up toffee? Then I'd better say
+good night, Jack." Jack went out pretty sore.</p>
+
+<p>About a week or so after this, Acton and young Bourne sped down to the
+old Lodestone Farm, and as they pedalled in at the gate young Hill, the
+farmer's son, said to Acton&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The man's been here since twelve, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," said Acton. "Has he got the stable ready?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's been putting it to rights the last hour."</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Bourne," said Acton, turning to Jack, "ever heard of the Alabama
+Coon?"</p>
+
+<p>"The fellow who won that fight in Holland? The prize-fighter?"</p>
+
+<p>"The very same."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've engaged him to give me a few lessons here. I'm going to try
+for the Heavy at Aldershot. Like to see the fun?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then come along."</p>
+
+<p>Together they went into the stable, and therein found "The Coon," a
+coal-black negro, busily shovelling sand upon the floor, smoking an
+enormous cigar the while.</p>
+
+<p>"Making ready the cockpit," said Acton to Jack, who was staring open-eyed
+at the worker. "Lusty looking animal, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"My aunt!" said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>"Hallo, Coon, you're about ready!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yaas, sir," said the negro. "I'm almost through."</p>
+
+<p>"Brought the mittens with you, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yaas, sir, I have the feather beds."</p>
+
+<p>"Then when you've peeled we'll start."</p>
+
+<p>The Coon put down his spade and slipped behind a stall.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, young 'un, the sergeant at the gym is a good old hand, but he
+is an old hand, so to speak&mdash;hasn't got the polish. Seeing that at
+Aldershot they tie us down to a very few rounds, if St. Amory's have to
+make any show at all they must get all the points they can first round or
+so. That's why I've got the Coon down here. He is the most scientific
+boxer we have."</p>
+
+<p>"The figure will be pretty stiff, Acton, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"No matter about that if I can beat Jarvis. By the way, Bourne, you need
+not say anything about this to any one. I have particular reasons for
+keeping this quiet."</p>
+
+<p>"All serene. I'm mum, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks. You watch the Coon, and you'll pick up no end of wrinkles."</p>
+
+<p>The Coon came out from behind the stall dressed in a vest, trousers, and
+thin boots; his black arms were bare, and he had exchanged his cigar for
+a straw, which he chewed vigorously. Acton changed his shoes and took off
+his coat, and the lesson began.</p>
+
+<p>Acton's opinion of the Coon's knowledge was, in Jack's mind, absolutely
+corroborated by the display. His marvellous parrying of Acton's
+attentions; his short step inwards, which invariably followed a mis-hit
+by Acton; his baits to lure his opponent to deliver himself a gift into
+his hands; his incredible ducking and lightning returns, held Bourne
+fascinated. Everything was done so easily, so lithely, so lightly, and so
+surely, that Jack gasped in admiration. Acton in the hands of the nigger
+was a lamb indeed.</p>
+
+<p>"This is an eye-opener," said Jack. "I'll try that left feint on Rogers,
+the cocky ass!"</p>
+
+<p>The negro stopped now and then to show Acton where and how to avail
+himself of opportunities; and Acton, who was in grim earnest, applied
+himself whole-heartedly to the business in hand, and, in consequence, as
+Jack afterwards told us, "you could almost hear old Acton travelling on
+the right road."</p>
+
+<p>After about half an hour of instruction, Acton said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"That is enough of jawing for the afternoon, Coon. Let us have three
+rounds to finish up with. Take the time, young 'un."</p>
+
+<p>Jack, with immense pride, took out his watch and prepared to act as
+timekeeper.</p>
+
+<p>"Better take it easily first two, sir, and put in all you know for the
+last. A little hurricane in the third round is my advice."</p>
+
+<p>Jack had an ecstatic ten minutes, the final round putting him in the
+seventh heaven of enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>"All I could make out was Acton's white arms mixed with Alabama's black
+ones, and the sand flying in all directions. Stunning isn't the word for
+it!"</p>
+
+<p>As Acton and young Bourne pedalled leisurely home for roll call, Jack
+said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I think Jarvis' chance of collaring the Heavy for his place is a trifle
+'rocky.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so."</p>
+
+<p>"Crumbs! How Alabama does get home!"</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XI"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<h3>TODD PAYS THE BILL</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Another youth had come back to St. Amory's with resolutions as fixed and
+steady, though more legitimate than Acton's. Augustus Vernon Robert Todd
+returned to school with pockets more scantily lined than ever from the
+parental source, with his mind constantly fixed on the conversation which
+he had had with his house-master on that awful concluding day last term,
+and his chin still thrust out valiantly. Gus's square chin meant an
+undeviating attention to serious study, and Gus, armed <i>cap-à-pie</i>,
+against all his old friends.</p>
+
+<p>For Todd had taken his precautions. His watch&mdash;a gold one, "jewelled in
+numberless holes," as its owner pathetically remarked&mdash;had been left with
+the family jeweller for three bright golden sovereigns, an eight-and-six
+brass turnip, which went jolly well, although its tick was a trifle
+vigorous under Gus's pillow, and an agreement. This document, drawn up by
+himself, Gus regarded as a very masterpiece of business-like acumen. Gus
+could have his gold watch back again within the year by paying three
+sovereigns, and buying the brass turnip for half a sovereign, the profit
+accruing on this latter transaction being, as Gus explained proudly, the
+jeweller's percentage on the loan. The family jeweller had informed Gus
+casually that he couldn't keep a wife and growing family on such
+percentages, but to oblige, etc.</p>
+
+<p>Todd received Mr. James Cotton blandly and politely, and Jim, in his
+heavy way, mistook this airiness for non-paying symptoms on Gus's part.</p>
+
+<p>"Had a good time, old cock, during the holidays?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beastly," said Gus.</p>
+
+<p>"Governor rusty?"</p>
+
+<p>"No end. Been making the will again, and leaving me out."</p>
+
+<p>"Perry <i>fiasco</i>, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and other things."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hope you can pay up all you owe me, old chap."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes!" said Gus. "I said I would keep my word, although you were so
+good as to have your doubts."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, glad you can manage it."</p>
+
+<p>"Here you are," said Gus, thrusting his hand into his pocket and bringing
+up his coins. "Three three for that rotten bet, and the other fifteen bob
+I owed you. It's all there."</p>
+
+<p>Cotton opened his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You said the governor was rusty, Gus?"</p>
+
+<p>"So he was, beastly; but I can pay you all the same."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Cotton, after a little awkward pause, "I don't want to clean
+you out quite, so pay half now and the rest next term. Would that suit
+you better, Gus?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, I don't mind," said Gus, airily. "Here's half, then."</p>
+
+<p>Cotton left his friend's room considerably puzzled, but when he came next
+night with his books for his old jackal's attentions as before, he was
+more than puzzled, for Gus said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Can give you half an hour, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"We won't be able to screw up enough for Merishall in that time, old
+man."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll have to do the rest yourself, Jim. I'm not going to piffle
+about any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't be an ass, Gus! I've heard that footle before," said Cotton,
+with his heavy selfishness.</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite, for this time I mean what I say."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, you don't!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, I do!"</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't leave a fellow in the lurch like this, after all I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I was left in the lurch last term, Jim, dear, and I'd rather you had a
+taste of it this go. Do you remember when old Corker was savaging me
+before all the school!"</p>
+
+<p>The ghost of a smile flitted over Cotton's lips as he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Rather!"</p>
+
+<p>"The entire school, from the meanest fag up to Carr, was laughing at me,
+and, by Jove! Jim, your laugh was the loudest and longest."</p>
+
+<p>"It was your tips I was thinking of, and Corker's frothing through your
+list of names," said Cotton, apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Todd, acidly. "If you had left me alone I wouldn't have
+wanted those tips, and as for my names, I did not christen myself. If you
+want half an hour to shake out your work roughly I'll do it, but I can't
+do more, Jim, honour bright."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want <i>that</i>!" said Cotton, angrily, gathering up his
+books."</p>
+
+<p>"Am deucedly glad you don't. And here, Jim, is the other half of the
+money. Since I'm not obliging you in any way, why should you me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're logical, Todd, at any rate," said Jim, with half a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't know you could spot logic when you heard it, Cotton," said Gus,
+with an equal amount of acid, and yet good-naturedly too.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I clean you out?"</p>
+
+<p>"You do. I've got a shilling to look at when you've taken up that heap."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that your last word?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is, but there's no need to quarrel&mdash;we're as we were before I began
+to take your hire, Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite," said Cotton, who was hit by Gus's decision. "I'll leave you
+to your odd shilling and your forsaken tips."</p>
+
+<p>He stumped off to his own room, and called Todd pet names till bedtime.
+What made Cotton so angry was that, deep down in his own mind, he knew
+that Gus was about to do a sensible and a manly thing, and just because
+he himself was going to suffer by it he had not moral courage enough to
+speak out openly his better mind.</p>
+
+<p>But Gus, smiling at Cotton's bad temper, took out his books, drew up a
+scheme for study, bolted his door, and commenced to work. He slacked off
+when the bell went half an hour before lights out, and spent the time
+left him in boring a hole in his solitary shilling. He then slipped it on
+his watch-guard, prepared boldly to face a term of ten weeks without a
+stiver.</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<h3>RAFFLES OF ROTHERHITHE</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Twice a week, on half-holidays, Acton and Bourne ran over to the farm, to
+find the Coon waiting for them in the stable, smoking an enormous cigar
+as usual, and reading sporting papers on the corn-chest. Young Hill, the
+farmer's son, generally put in an appearance when the boxing was about
+over, and to Jack's utter disgust, plainly showed that he would rather
+that Jack was anywhere else than with Acton when the gloves had been laid
+aside. He seemed to have some business with Acton concerning which he
+evidently did not want Jack to hear a single syllable.</p>
+
+<p>Jack did not quite see at first that he was one too many after the boxing
+was over, and that Hill, at any rate, did not mean there should be a
+fourth to the deliberations of himself, Acton, and the Coon. Jack,
+however, soon tumbled that he was <i>de trop</i>, and the minute young
+Hill came in Jack would stalk solemnly and formally out of the stable and
+kick up his heels in the farmyard until such time as Acton should be
+ready for the run to school.</p>
+
+<p>Jack certainly did not like this cavalier treatment, but found it rather
+a bore pottering about the yard, "looking at the beastly ducks;" but
+Acton was so profusely apologetic when he did come out that Jack
+generally smoothed his ruffled plumes and pedalled home at peace with
+himself and all the world.</p>
+
+<p>"The fact is, Jack," said Acton, "young Hill has arranged for me to have
+the stable for our practice, for old Hill himself was rather against it,
+and as he has a prejudice against St. Amory fellows generally, but
+especially when they're of the Junior School&mdash;some of your tribe scuttled
+his punt for him on the moat, didn't you?&mdash;I thought you would not mind
+humouring the man's amiabilities. The Coon and he talk rot&mdash;sporting
+rot&mdash;and it would only bore you to listen to it."</p>
+
+<p>Jack said, "It does not matter in the least. I'd as soon look at the
+ducks as listen to Hill. It's a bit <i>infra dig</i>., though, that <i>he</i>
+should object."</p>
+
+<p>As a matter of fact, young Hill received letters for Acton which dealt
+with many things, the burden of most of them being "betting," and the
+other sweet things of the sporting shop. Acton was, as you will have
+seen, not the very green innocent who would come to much harm in this
+lovely form of diversion.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-6"><!-- Image 6 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 45%;">
+<a href="images/006.jpg">
+<img src="images/006.jpg" width="100%" alt="A Little Yellow, Ear-torn Dog Bustled Out Of Some Shed." border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+A Little Yellow, Ear-torn Dog Bustled Out Of Some Shed.</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>About a fortnight after the visits to the Lodestone had commenced, the
+Coon brought down with him a long-legged, thin-faced, horsey-looking
+individual, who introduced himself to Bourne as Raffles of Rotherhithe,
+and who laid himself out to be excessively friendly to Jack. He took,
+evidently, quite a professional interest in the sparring, and told Acton
+that "his left was quite a colourable imitation of the Coon's."</p>
+
+<p>"Not colourable, anyhow," said Acton, with a wink at Jack.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think, sir, of Alabama's 'blind hook'?"</p>
+
+<p>Jack, who had not the remotest idea what a "blind hook" was, said it "was
+simply stunning."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly my idea, sir. I see you know above a bit about the noble art."</p>
+
+<p>Raffles, as he would have said in his own special slang, worked the
+"friendly lay" so well upon Jack, that that young gentleman was captured
+to the last gun; you can do an awful lot of execution by deferring to the
+opinion of a young man of sixteen, or thereabouts, as to the merit of
+relying exclusively on the left.</p>
+
+<p>When the sparring was over, Raffles shuffled out with Jack into the yard
+and whistled. A little yellow, ear-torn dog bustled out of some shed and
+trotted demurely by Mr. Raffles' right boot.</p>
+
+<p>"See that dog, Mr. Bourne?"</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, Raffles, how did you know my name was Bourne?" asked Jack.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Acting mentioned that it was so. No offence, I hope, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no!" said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Acting mentioned to me as how Warmint might amuse you."</p>
+
+<p>"Warmint! What the deuce is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the dawg."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's a pretty ugly brute anyhow, Raffles."</p>
+
+<p>"It is so; it's the colour&mdash;yellow is a mean colour. But he's a terror to
+go."</p>
+
+<p>"Where?" said Jack, uncivilly; for the man's manner, a mixture of
+familiarity and servility, had begun to pall on Jack's taste.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, there ain't a better, quicker, neater dawg in all London after the
+rats than Warmint. He holds the record south the Thames."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a record then for rat killing? How is it done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Turn a sack o' long tails on to the floor and let the dawg among them.
+He works against time, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Have the rats any chance of getting away?"</p>
+
+<p>"No fear."</p>
+
+<p>"Ugh!" said Jack, looking at the mongrel with intense disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"Is time for twenty&mdash;but I say, Mr. Bourne, if you like I'll bring a bag
+o' rats down, and you can see for yourself. While the other gentleman,
+Mr. Acting, is with the Coon, we can bring it off in the barn."</p>
+
+<p>"Man alive, no!" said Jack, with another spasm of disgust; "but if you've
+any other plans, Raffles, of killing an hour or so whilst Hill makes
+speeches, trot 'em out. I'm sick of pottering round his yard like an
+idiot. Are you coming with the Coon again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty well every time. What do you say to a little game of billiards?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where?" said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>"Nice little 'ouse near 'ere, I know."</p>
+
+<p>"No fear! That's clean against the rules. Besides, who wants to knock
+balls about with a sticky cue on a torn billiard cloth, where the whole
+place reeks of beer and stale tobacco? No, thanks!"</p>
+
+<p>"Young gents used not to set so much store by rules when I was a lad."</p>
+
+<p>"We've changed since then, Raffles," said Jack, drily.</p>
+
+<p>"A little shooting?"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sparrers?" suggested Raffles, off-hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Rot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Bunnies?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's better, Raffles. If you can get me half an hour with Hill's
+rabbits, I'd risk that. Of course, there'd be a row if it was known.
+Acton won't inquire, I fancy, who's shooting?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Acton won't, Mr. Bourne; he's a gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a monitor, though, Raffles, which is a different sort of animal."</p>
+
+<p>Raffles of Rotherhithe did not appear to think that Acton's being a
+monitor was a clinching argument barring young Bourne's sport. Perhaps he
+had private reasons for his opinions. Anyhow, he glibly promised to have
+a breech-loader and a ferret for young Bourne on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>"And old Hill? They're his rabbits, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"That will be all right. Take Dan Raffles' word for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Now look here, Raffles; I'll give you sixpence for every rabbit I shoot,
+and I'll pay you for the cartridges. You'll keep all the rabbits, but you
+will lend me the gun."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir," said Raffles, smartly.</p>
+
+<p>"And, Raffles," said Jack, eyeing over that individual with a curious
+mixture of amusement and dislike, "you needn't be too beastly friendly
+and chummy. I'm going to pay you for what you do, and don't fancy I'm
+going an inch further than I feel inclined. I'm paying the piper, and I'm
+going to choose all the tunes."</p>
+
+<p>"Orl right," said Raffles, considerably taken aback by the ultimatum.
+"I'll not be friendlier than I can 'elp."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't," said Jack.</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XIII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<h3>"EASY IS THE DOWNWARD ROAD"</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Aided by Raffles of Rotherhithe, young Bourne went royally through half
+the rules of the school. He called the tune to that extent. In the first
+place, one may believe that when he called in the aid of that horsey
+gentleman he had no further idea in his head than that of passing away
+those dull half-hours which Hill inflicted upon him.</p>
+
+<p>But, like many a wiser man, young Bourne found it was easier to conjure
+up a spirit than to lay one, and, having once accepted the aid of
+Raffles, he found it beyond his power to dispense with it, despite his
+brave word. So, unheedful of his brother's advice, he not merely put his
+innocent feet into the stream of forbidden pleasures, but waded in
+whole-heartedly up to the chin.</p>
+
+<p>Raffles, as promised, turned up on the next occasion provided with a
+ferret and a gun, and all difficulties were smoothed over with the
+farmer. Thus Jack Bourne took his post as the noble British sportsman
+just behind the Lodestone Moat, whilst Raffles, with his ferret, worked
+the bank, which was honey-combed with rabbit-holes. As the rabbits
+scurried out before the ferret, Jack blazed away noisily, and
+occasionally he had the pleasure of seeing a rabbit turning a somersault
+as it made its last bound. Certainly, Jack was not a dead shot, but when
+he contemplated the slain lying stark on the flanks of the bank, he felt
+the throaty joy of the slaughtering British schoolboy. He counted out to
+his worthy henchman four sixpences for the four slain with all the pride
+of the elephant-hunter paying his beaters yards of brass wire and calico.
+Raffles was properly grateful, of course.</p>
+
+<p>Then, as their acquaintance progressed, there were little competitions
+between Jack and Raffles at artificial pigeon-shooting, Raffles having
+fixed up the apparatus, and Jack, from the twenty-five yards' mark,
+occasionally winged his clay pigeon. It was very good sport in Jack's
+opinion. Further, that little "'ouse" which Raffles knew of also soon
+made the acquaintance of Jack, and he and Raffles on rainy afternoons
+snatched the fearful joys of hasty "hundreds up" or "fifties up," just as
+time allowed, Jack did not find the cue quite so sticky nor the charms of
+stale tobacco quite so unlovely as he had expected. The landlord, who
+marked for the two worthies, told our young gentleman that he had "a
+pretty 'and for the long jenny," and Jack felt he could not do less than
+order a little of his favourite beverage in return for his good opinion.
+And thus as ever. Under the expert tuition of Raffles, Jack became a
+little more of a "man" every day, and a little less of a decent fellow.
+He smoked, he could call for a "small port" in quite an off-hand fashion,
+he had played "shell out" with loafers at the little "'ouse," and he
+began to know a little more of betting, "gee-gees," and other kindred
+matters, than an average young fellow should know.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Facilis descensus Averni</i>"&mdash;you know the old tag.</p>
+
+<p>By insensible gradations Jack Bourne found himself with a ruin of broken
+rules behind him, and still tied to the chariot-wheels of Raffles, who
+dragged him wherever he would. Jack's pockets, too, began to feel the
+drain, but luckily&mdash;or unluckily, if you look at it properly&mdash;he was
+rather flush this term, and as he had more than the usual allowance, he
+was not so short as he might have been.</p>
+
+<p>One thing bothered Jack, though he did not exactly put the idea that
+worried him into words. There was not much fun <i>really</i> in this
+shooting, billiards, etc., since Jack broke all the rules alone. Now, if
+Poulett, or Wilson, or Rogers, or Grim had been with him, that would have
+been jolly. Besides that, since he could give his old chums so precious
+little of his time, and had perforce to head them off when they offered
+to bear him company on half-holidays, they called him many choice names.</p>
+
+<p>"I hear they sample all the public-houses between here and Westcote,"
+said Rogers. "Look what a dissipated eye Mr. Bourne's got."</p>
+
+<p>"Yours will soon be groggy, Rogers, my pet, though you are cock of your
+beastly water-lilies." After Sharpe's memorable poem, Biffen's house were
+always "water-lillies" to the rest of St. Amory's.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah?" said Poulett, "Jack carries Acton's notes to some yellow-haired
+dolly down at Westcote. She gives him milk whilst he's waiting for the
+answer."</p>
+
+<p>"Go and poach eggs, Poulett."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't do anything too mean, dear Jack, so that you'll make us blush for
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Keep Acton out of mischief, Jack, remember he's only a poor forsaken
+monitor. Show him the ropes."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, you chaps," said Jack, hopping on his bike, "here's Acton
+coming." The two would then pedal the well-known road to the Lodestone,
+and the elevating company of the Coon and Raffles.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't let Raffles bore you, young 'un," said Acton to Bourne one day as
+the owner of Warmint hove in sight. "Make him useful, but keep out of
+mischief."</p>
+
+<p>Jack, had he thought about the matter, might have reasonably asked Acton
+how he could make Raffles useful and yet keep out of mischief, but the
+Coon appearing at the stable-door in all the glory of a fur-lined coat,
+with a foot of fur round the collar and half a foot round the sleeves,
+and a bigger cigar than ever in his mouth, drove Jack's thoughts in
+another direction.</p>
+
+<p>Acton had really made marvellous progress under the Coon's coaching, and
+as Jack watched the usual concluding three rounds, he was puzzled in his
+own mind as to who could hold a candle up to his friend. This particular
+afternoon was to be the final appearance of the Coon, who was going to
+figure shortly as principal in some contest at Covent Garden, and Jack
+determined to miss no opportunity of catching the last wrinkles of the
+great professor's skill. Therefore, instead of sallying out as usual
+halfway through the performance in the stable, he sat on the corn-chest
+until Hill came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Coon! Hope you come off all right in your turn-up."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, sir! Hope I'll train you when you start for the Heavy."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll give you the chance if I do. Come along, Raffles."</p>
+
+<p>When they were outside, Jack said, "By the way, Raffles, this will be
+your last appearance down here too, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," said Raffles, "unless you make it worth my while to come
+down entirely on your account."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm, no," said Jack. "I'm deucedly short now, and when I've paid for the
+last fifty cartridges, and the last rabbits, I'll be still shorter."</p>
+
+<p>"Let it stand over, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Jack. "I've had the fun, and I'll pay, of course. Let's have a
+last dozen pigeons at the twenty-five yards' rise."</p>
+
+<p>Secretly, Jack was rather glad that Raffles' <i>rôle</i> of entertainer
+was finished; for his stolen pleasures had lost a considerable part of
+their original sweetness, and their cost <i>was</i> heavy. It would be
+quite a change, too, to get back to Grim and the others, and be the
+ordinary common sort of fellow again.</p>
+
+<p>Raffles went and wound up the throwing apparatus, and set the clay pigeon
+on the rest. Jack took his breech-loader, raised it to the shoulder, and
+said, "Ready!" Raffles pulled the string, the dummy bird rocketed up, and
+Jack pressed the trigger.</p>
+
+<p>For one second afterwards Jack did not rightly know what had happened.
+There was a blinding flash before his eyes, a something tore off his cap,
+and something stung his cheeks like spirts of scalding water. His left
+hand felt numb and dead. This all happened in the fraction of a moment.</p>
+
+<p>Jack looked at the gun in stupid wonder. The breech was clean blown out!
+With a groan of horror, he dropped the gun. He realized that he had
+escaped death by a miracle. He put up his right hand to his face, which
+felt on fire, and stared blankly at Raffles.</p>
+
+<p>That worthy was scared out of his wits; but when he saw Jack was more or
+less alive, he managed to jerk out&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"That was a squeak, young shaver! Hurt any?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know," said Jack, blankly.</p>
+
+<p>Raffles anxiously examined him, and it was with no end of relief he
+said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Clean bill, sir&mdash;bar those flecks of powder on your cheek.
+Considering&mdash;well you're&mdash;we're&mdash;lucky."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather," said Jack, dizzily. "That's my cap isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Yards away was Jack's cap, and Raffles brought it. His face was
+white&mdash;white above a bit. There was a clean cut through the brim, and a
+neat, straightforward tear-out of an inch or so of the front just above
+the crest.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Raffles, looking narrowly at that business-like damage. "All
+I can say is you're lucky."</p>
+
+<p>"Lucky! Yes," said Jack. "I suppose I'd better go. Let's have the thing.
+An inch lower down, and I'd have had that piece of barrel in my head&mdash;or
+through it. It wants thinking over."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose, sir, you're going to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the cash you mean! Eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that was my meaning."</p>
+
+<p>"Your cash will be all right, man. Come down for it on Friday&mdash;can't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"How if I can't, young shaver?" said Raffles of Rotherhithe.</p>
+
+<p>"Then do without it! Anyhow, I'm going now&mdash;I'm too sick."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Raffles, sulkily. "On Thursday."</p>
+
+<p>Jack, without another word, stumbled across the fields into the farmyard,
+and luckily found Acton ready for home. He shakily dropped into his
+saddle; and, with a mind pretty busy, he tailed wearily after Acton to
+St. Amory's.</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XIV"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<h3>IN THE STABLE</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>After tea that day Acton went down to the farm <i>solus</i>, not having,
+as you will presently see, any need of Jack's company, even if Bourne had
+felt any desire to accompany him, which he didn't.</p>
+
+<p>The monitor tinkled his bell, and in answer to the ringing, Raffles
+lounged out of a barn, the inseparable Warmint trotting at his master's
+heels.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose we'd better go into the stable, Raffles."</p>
+
+<p>The odour of the Coon's afternoon cigar still hung about the place, and
+the stable was half dark, but as Acton had an idea that his conversation
+with Raffles would not be a short one, and the night was rather cold,
+they went in.</p>
+
+<p>"Fire away, Raffles. Start at the beginning."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir," said Raffles, seating himself on the corn-chest.
+"Agreeable to instructions received from Mr. Acting&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Acton," suggested that gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"Acting&mdash;I said so, didn't I? Very well! Agreeable to instructions
+received from you, sir, I prepared&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be so beastly legal, you ass!"</p>
+
+<p>"Let a cove tell 'is tale 'is own way, sir. We'll get on better like
+that. As I was going to say, following your tip, I prepared to show that
+young shaver, Bourne, a few things which as you told me he ought not to
+know of, and to do a few things which you told me he ought not to do&mdash;in
+fact, to put him on the way of breakin' every blessed rule that that beak
+of your school 'as drawn up for the guidance of the youth and the
+beauties under 'is 'and. What's the name of the beak, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Moore!" said Acton, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"The young shaver spoke of 'im different."</p>
+
+<p>"Corker, perhaps," said Acton.</p>
+
+<p>"That's it," continued Raffles. "Well, Corker 'asn't got a thoroughbred
+greenhorn in Bourne, Mr. Acting."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Young Bourne's head is on his shoulders, more or less. Get on."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we opened the ball with a little bunny-shootin', for he couldn't
+stand Warmint's workin' among the rats. He shoots moderate straight, so I
+doctored his cartridges, or he'd have cleared out the bank. Not more than
+two in the half-dozen, sir. And then he couldn't understand it. What
+might Corker say to the bunnies, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a thrashing, perhaps, and a stringing up for the rest of the term."</p>
+
+<p>"We went to the Blue Cow on wet days. Billiards, beer, and 'baccy, Mr.
+Acting, was the true bill there. What's the law on those fancy articles?"</p>
+
+<p>"A thrashing for first course, and <i>et ceteras</i> which you wouldn't
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he's earned 'em. We couldn't do any betting on the horses, since
+the Lincolnshire Handicap is not in sight yet, but he fluttered a little
+on the Sporting Club matches; and he was lucky&mdash;more than ordinary."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't wing him there, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to speak of. He may have dropped half a sov. altogether, but I
+doubt it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Raffles, you're a fool. Do you think I brought you down here to be
+moral instructor to young Bourne, you grey old badger? Couldn't you bag
+an innocent of sixteen or so? Besides, what the deuce do you mean by
+tipping me the wink as Bourne and I used to get on our 'bikes'? You
+always did it, and I thought you were winding up the youngster hand over
+hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Them winks," said Raffles, diplomatically, "was meant to show that I was
+moving&mdash;moving slow, but sure. You've observed, Mr. Acting, yourself, as
+'ow the young shaver had a head on 'is shoulders."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I didn't bargain for yours being off your shoulders."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what with bunnies, cartridges, and the Blue Cow, and the other
+extras, he is about cleaned out now."</p>
+
+<p>"Cleaned out!" said Acton, with intense irritation. "That's not what I
+wanted. I told you distinctly that I must have him five pounds deep at
+the least. How can I engineer my schemes if my sharpers can't cut? You'll
+look blue, Raffles, when I settle your account, take my word for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite so quick off the mark, Mr. Acting. What do you value this
+piece of ironmongery at?"</p>
+
+<p>Raffles fished up the gun which had burst in Jack's hands that afternoon
+from behind the corn-chest, and held it up to the light.</p>
+
+<p>"A burst gun!" said Acton. "It's worth throwing away; no more."</p>
+
+<p>"It was worth this morning, say fifteen bob, before Bourne blew its ribs
+out."</p>
+
+<p>"Jove!" said Acton, "let me handle the thing." He looked at the torn
+breech, and whistled with involuntary horror. "Much of a squeak,
+Raffles?"</p>
+
+<p>"Touch and go, sir. He'll never be nearer pegging out than he was this
+afternoon; for he scraped the gates of his family buryin'-place, in a
+manner of speakin.' It went clean through his hat&mdash;rim and crown."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he know his luck?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody better."</p>
+
+<p>"He looked more than average queer as we trotted home. I thought he was
+digesting your little bill, Raffles."</p>
+
+<p>"No; he only owes me a matter of shillin's. But I could say that I
+ticketed the gun at £5 or £6, when the old shooter wasn't worth&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Fifteen bob," said Acton, looking at the worn barrel.</p>
+
+<p>"See where I have&mdash;where you have&mdash;the youngster tied neatly up? He owes
+me&mdash;or you&mdash;seven, eight, nine pounds, or any fancy figure I&mdash;or you&mdash;
+like to mention for that old piece of iron there."</p>
+
+<p>"Raffles, we're in luck! Luck has served me better than all your downy
+work."</p>
+
+<p>"It has," said that bright specimen of humanity, regretfully. "I can't
+pretend that I'd any hand in the blowing out of them blessed barrels."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Raffles; don't weep. You'd have done it, of course, if you'd
+thought about it," said Acton, with a curious sneer; "but this is my
+plan&mdash;as far as you're concerned. When young Bourne comes, you're to ask
+for £7 10s. And you're to be an adamantine Jew; you're to have the money
+instanter, or there'll be a rumpus."</p>
+
+<p>"I twig. Make it seven guineas, though," said Raffles, generously.</p>
+
+<p>"Seven guineas! So be it. You can suggest that, unless you get the cash,
+you would see Moore."</p>
+
+<p>"Corker, D.D.? I'm on."</p>
+
+<p>"Or Bourne, senior."</p>
+
+<p>"The shaver's brother. I'm tumbling to the dodge."</p>
+
+<p>"Bourne will curl up at this."</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally."</p>
+
+<p>"But you're still the blood-thirsty Jew."</p>
+
+<p>"Moses, and Aaron, and the rest."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll suggest at last that I be tackled for a loan."</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll lend it him!" said Raffles, with an unspeakable leer.</p>
+
+<p>"The business wants careful handling, remember. Young Bourne will think
+twice about borrowing, and, perhaps, if he could keep me out of it, would
+stand your racket, or Corker's either. So drive him lightly."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll see him on the borrowing tack to-morrow, Mr. Acting."</p>
+
+<p>"And the rest is my business."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do I come in?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can cleave to the seven guineas&mdash;if you earn 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Seven pounds ten, Mr. Acting."</p>
+
+<p>"Seven pound seven, Mr. Raffles. Your own proposal."</p>
+
+<p>"Orl right," said Raffles, resignedly. "I think I know them ropes."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" said Acton. "Then you can scuttle now to Rotherhithe, or where the
+deuce else you like. I'm off."</p>
+
+<p>Acton wheeled out his bicycle and melted into the gathering dark, and his
+jackal lurched off to the station and reached Rotherhithe to dream of his
+seven guineas which he was going to get. Raffles felt sure of those seven
+guineas.</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XV"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+<h3>GRIM'S SUSPICIONS</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>As I said before, Jack Bourne, after the first bloom of his forbidden
+pleasures had worn off, rather repented of the Raffles' connection, and
+would gladly have exchanged it for the old, easy, open, and above-board
+society of his chums. Grim, Rogers, Wilson, Poulett, etc., were, on their
+side, rather sore at Jack's continual desertion of them and their causes.
+They had just seen him pedalling easily after Acton, throwing them a
+rather mirthless joke as he ran past, and they had, naturally, held a
+council to consider matters.</p>
+
+<p>"Wherever can the beggar get to is what I want to know," said Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>"Can any one tell me what he wants with Acton?" said Grim.</p>
+
+<p>"I think that it's Acton that wants him," said Rogers. "Come to think of
+it, Grimmy, you're Acton's man. Why doesn't he lag you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Grimmy's not to be trusted. He'd read the <i>billet-doux</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe that there's any notes, Wilson," said Grim,
+impressively, "in this business. It's something deeper than that."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the mystery, Mr. Grimmy Sherlock Combs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Poachin'," said Grim, solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" exclaimed the other, with breathless interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Dunno, quite," said Grim; "but that young ass dropped a cartridge from
+his pocket the other day."</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing to poach here, Grimmy."</p>
+
+<p>"There's Pettigrew's pheasants," said Grim, mysteriously.</p>
+
+<p>"But you don't shoot them in March."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>We</i> don't, Poulett, but poachers do."</p>
+
+<p>"Tisn't likely that Acton&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't know," said Rogers, reflectively. "He's lived so long in
+France, where they shoot robins and nightingales, that he'll not know."</p>
+
+<p>"But Bourne would."</p>
+
+<p>"That's why he looks so blue. He does know, and it preys on his mind."</p>
+
+<p>W.E. Grim's pathetic picture of young Bourne turned out-of-season poacher
+against his will by an inexorable Acton didn't seem quite to fill the
+bill.</p>
+
+<p>"Grimmy, you're an absolute idiot. That poachin' dodge won't do. Perhaps,
+after all, they only bike round generally."</p>
+
+<p>"What about that cartridge?" said Grim.</p>
+
+<p>The little knot of cronies discussed the matter for a good half-hour,
+Grim holding tenaciously to a poaching theory&mdash;pheasants or rabbits&mdash;the
+others scouting the idea as next door to the absurd.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," said Wilson, brilliantly, "we'll track the pair to their
+earth to-morrow. If they're after birds or bunnies I'll stand tea all
+round at Hooper's."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Grim. "I'd like to know about that cartridge."</p>
+
+<p>On the morrow the suspicious band quietly trotted out after dinner from
+St. Amory's, dressed ostensibly for a run down Westcote way. Once down
+the hill they lay well out in the fields, keeping a sharp watch through
+the hedges for their quarry. When they saw two well-known figures, feet
+on the rest, coasting merrily down and head for Westcote, they all drew a
+long breath and girded up their loins for the race.</p>
+
+<p>"With luck and the short cuts," said Grim, stepping out, "we may just see
+'em sneak into Pettigrew's woods."</p>
+
+<p>"And we've got a mile in hand too," said Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>The cronies ran tightly together, nursing their wind and keeping well
+screened from eyeshot from the road, not that either Acton, or Bourne
+dreamed that their afternoon's run was being dogged by anyone. From their
+numerous short cuts the scouts were necessarily out of view from the
+road, but they marked the two cyclists from point to point and themselves
+headed up hill and down dale straight for Westcote. They felt pretty well
+winded by now, as they stood panting in a breezy spinney, watching for
+the appearance of their quarry on the brown road beneath them.</p>
+
+<p>"There they are," gasped Wilson, pretty blown.</p>
+
+<p>"There's only one," said Rogers, "and it is that young owl Bourne, too.
+He's shed Acton."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he's punctured," suggested Grim; "anyhow, we hang on to Jack."</p>
+
+<p>Rather puzzled at the non-appearance of Acton, they kept the first-comer
+well in view as he pedalled hard for Westcote.</p>
+
+<p>"That's Jack right enough," said Rogers; "and we'll have to leg it or
+he'll slip us. Jove! he's captured a wheel with a vengeance. Hear it
+hum."</p>
+
+<p>The quartette strung down the hill full pelt, but when they got to the
+bottom the cyclist was a good hundred yards ahead. His pursuers came to a
+dead stop.</p>
+
+<p>"May as well go home now," said Grim, in great disgust. "We can't dog him
+now, and anyhow it isn't Pettigrew's pheasants that Jack's after: he's
+gone past the woods. What a bone-shaker he's captured. Hear the spokes
+rattlin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so quick, Grimmy. He's wheeling into that little Westcote inn. We'll
+run him down now."</p>
+
+<p>The rider had indeed dismounted nearly a quarter mile ahead, and
+instantly the Amorians were stringing down the road again. Before the
+door of the little inn they found a bicycle propped up drunkenly against
+the wall, and the Amorians, pumped though they were, had breath enough
+left to explode over Bourne's machine. It was a "solid" of
+pre-diamond-frame days, guiltless of enamel or plating, and handle-bars
+of width generous enough for a Dutch herring-boat's bow.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no false pride about Jack," said Grim, gloating over the weird
+mount. "Whatever is he doing in here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Liquid refreshment," said Rogers between a gulp and a gasp. "Oh, Jack,
+was it for this and this that you gave us the go-by?"</p>
+
+<p>"This place doesn't seem Jack's form somehow," said Wilson, looking
+doubtfully up and down the little inn.</p>
+
+<p>"Ring him out, Wilson," said Grim. "His little game's up now, and we can
+rag him for an age over this."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's try his mount first, Grimmy." Rogers wheeled out the machine and,
+after hopping twenty yards, "found" the saddle. To mount it was one
+thing, to ride it was evidently a matter of liberal education beyond the
+attainments of a junior Amorian, for, as Rogers attempted a modest sweep
+round, the machine collapsed, and he was sprawling on his back, the
+bicycle rattling about his ears. Then&mdash;it seemed automatically to the
+gasping Amorians&mdash;a sturdy youth rushed out of the inn flourishing a
+half-emptied glass of beer in one hand, and he seized the struggling
+Rogers by the scruff of the neck with the other. Rogers was
+unceremoniously jerked to his feet before he quite realized what it was
+all about. One or two men lounged out of the inn, and surveyed the scene
+dispassionately, and the landlord pushed his way forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Wot's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Matter!" gasped the youth, tightening his hold on Rogers' collar and
+waving his glass dramatically.</p>
+
+<p>"This young shaver was going to nick my bike. I seen him."</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't, you fool&mdash;&mdash;" began Rogers, who did not like the man's
+knuckles in his neck.</p>
+
+<p>"Fool am I, you little ugly thief? Worn't you a-scorchin' down the road
+w'it? I see you."</p>
+
+<p>The other Amorians curled up with laughter at the way things were mixing
+up, and at the last exquisite joke.</p>
+
+<p>"Jove, Rogers, to think you meant to steal it!" burbled Poulett.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave loose of my collar, you idiot," said Rogers, squirming in the
+man's grasp; "I tell you it's all a mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all my h'eye. I see you sneak it, and it'll be a month for you.
+Sneaking bikes is awful! Mistake be blowed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! explain, some of you," said Rogers, frantically, "before I&mdash;Grim,
+tell the lunatic."</p>
+
+<p>The Amorians were beyond mere laughter now, but the landlord had wit
+enough to see that there was some mistake somewhere, and he finally
+persuaded the owner of the bicycle to moderate his attentions to the
+exasperated Rogers. Grim recovered sufficiently to lift some of the
+suspicions from that ill-used youth.</p>
+
+<p>"We thought you were a friend of ours&mdash;back view only and at a distance,
+you know&mdash;but you're not very like him, really, in the face. His name's
+Bourne."</p>
+
+<p>"Mine's 'Arris," said the bicycle owner, angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"A very nice name, too;" said Grim, soothingly. "You'd better see what's
+the damage to the machine for we must be trotting back to St. Amory's."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harris spun the pedals and tried the wheels.</p>
+
+<p>"It's shook up considerable, that's wot it is."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Grim, hastily. "Here's a shilling. Give it a drink of
+beer."</p>
+
+<p>This was a wretched joke really, but it brightened the face of Mr. Harris
+considerably when he heard it, and the loafers departed from their
+dispassionate attitude, and became quite friendly. The landlord went in
+to draw beer.</p>
+
+<p>A minute afterwards the quartette was heading back for St. Amory's as
+hard as it could go, and whenever a halt was called for breath, three of
+the cronies collapsed on the earth, and howled at Rogers, who could not
+see the joke.</p>
+
+<p>Over a quiet little tea, after call-over, at Hooper's Rogers explained
+fully his views.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm not going to do any more detective work. We missed Acton and
+Bourne beautifully; they don't go to Westcote, and Grimmy's idea about
+poachin' 's rotten. He may be Acton's messenger-boy or the rider of a
+decent pneumatic, but I'm going to let him go his own way."</p>
+
+<p>When, afterwards, they rubbed embrocation into their wearied limbs, the
+rest agreed with Rogers.</p>
+
+<p>"But, yet," said Grim, "I'd like to know about that cartridge too."</p>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XVI"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+<h3>TODD "FINDS HIMSELF"</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Todd had found out all the unpainted beauty of public-school life without
+pocket money, and discovered that existence was just possible. A shilling
+on your watchchain and a shilling's worth of stamps admit of no luxuries,
+and Todd, through his impecuniosity, even if he had wished, could not
+have done anything else but work. Taylor's house was supposed to provide
+a fairly liberal table, but Gus really did miss his after-dinner cup of
+coffee at Hooper's, and not many fellows would regard long letters to and
+from home as being the <i>summum bonum</i> of the week. Yet Todd had come
+to regard his mamma's letters&mdash;four-paged gossip about his sisters, his
+brothers, the horses, and the dogs&mdash;in the light of luxuries.</p>
+
+<p>Consequently, with nothing to distract him, Gus really did work. His
+standing in the Fifth sensibly increased. Merishall did not make
+elaborate jokes on his Latin, and Corker not once let fall the warning
+eye-glass preparatory to savaging him for his Greek, formerly called so
+by a courtesy title. There was a world of difference between his old
+haphazard slip-slop and his present honest attempts in the ways of
+scholarship.</p>
+
+<p>The half-holidays, though, dragged dreadfully, for Gus was one of those
+fellows who have no natural aptitude for games, and he had a theory that
+he did not care a straw about them either. Being in the Fifth he could,
+of course, suit himself what he did with his halfers. Sometimes, in very
+desperation, he would lounge down to the Acres, and wander forlornly from
+goal post to goal post, and sometimes he spent the afternoon amusing
+himself&mdash;with Lancaster's express approval&mdash;in the laboratory, and so
+effaced previous bad impressions from the science master's mind. Gus,
+however, was honest enough with himself to own that he would rather have
+had an aimless stroll with Cotton than any amount of footer-gazing or
+"bottle-washing." But Cotton had definitely thrown him over; they did not
+nod when they met, and Jim was very careful not to see Gus walking in
+solitary state in the roadway.</p>
+
+<p>Todd was moodily looking out of his window one halfer, and discontentedly
+wondering how he could exist till he should switch on the electric for
+the evening grind, when a not unfamiliar knock sounded on the door. Gus
+faced round wonderingly, and opened the door. The house-master dropped
+into the chair which Todd hastily drew out for him.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I should catch you in, Todd. Nothing on, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," said Todd.</p>
+
+<p>"No particular engagement for this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," said Gus, with a half sigh merging into a half smile, "though
+I did think of going down to the Acres, and looking at the footer."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad of that," said Taylor, as though he really were. "I promised to
+referee this afternoon&mdash;Hargon's <i>v</i>. Sharpe's&mdash;but I want to cry
+off now. Neuralgia, Todd, is simply torturing me this moment, and
+refereeing wouldn't improve it. Do you mind taking my place? Do please
+say 'No' if you'd rather not."</p>
+
+<p>"Very sorry, sir," said Gus, referring to the neuralgia. "Referee!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Taylor, with a ghost of a smile at Todd's astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, I will, sir&mdash;I mean I'll take your place. But the fellows
+will gasp when I step into the arena."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Todd. Why will they gasp?"</p>
+
+<p>"Footer isn't my line, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Hasn't been, Todd. Anyhow, they'll be delighted when you whistle them
+up."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope they'll be delighted when I've finished, sir," said Gus,
+doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"One side won't, of course," said Taylor, cheerfully. "That is natural,
+and the usual thing. Do you know, I never played football, but I like
+refereeing immensely. Positive it's the best thing after playing, and I
+know that a really first-class referee is a very rare fowl. Of course
+it's the off-side rule and, etc."</p>
+
+<p>Taylor delivered himself of a little homily on the subject of refereeing.
+He was enthusiastic almost to the point of forgetting his neuralgia, and
+Todd got quite interested in the theme so earnestly handled. He had not
+thought there was much fun in it until the house-master unfolded its
+possibilities, but he took over the whistle fairly sanguine.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do my best, sir," said Gus, in conclusion; "and if they stone me
+off the Acres&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bury my reputation as a prophet under the missiles."</p>
+
+<p>In one thing Todd was certainly right. When he found Hargon's <i>v</i>.
+Sharpe's pitch and told the assembled twenty-two&mdash;rather diffidently, I
+must own&mdash;that he was the deputy referee, they did gasp.</p>
+
+<p>"Show us your whistle, Gus," said Higgins, Hargon's captain, doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>Gus held it up, with a genial and childlike smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Got the rules in your pocket, too, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"I have," said Todd&mdash;"for reference. But I know <i>now</i>, Higgins, that
+goal-keepers cannot take more than two steps with the ball, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Sharpe's lot guffawed at Todd's neat little thrust at Higgins's little
+failing as a goal-keeper.</p>
+
+<p>"But don't you worry, Hig; I'll see you through all right. Three-quarter
+each way, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>Todd gave his whole mind to the refereeing, and soon warmed to business.
+He found that there was heaps more fun in it than he had bargained for,
+and as he was a sharp, quick, and clever youth he came out of the ordeal
+with flying colours. He made mistakes, naturally, but momentous issues
+depended on none of them, and he felt he had not done so badly when
+Higgins, at half-time, spoke to him as one in authority to another. But
+Palmer, the captain of Sharpe's lot&mdash;the beaten side&mdash;put the coping
+stone to a pleasant afternoon by asking Gus to referee for them against
+Merishall's. Gus walked off the field a happy man.</p>
+
+<p>From that afternoon Todd had no excuse for loafing away any halfer. His
+services as referee were in demand, not merely as a matter of utility,
+but of preference. Taylor, who had watched rather anxiously Todd's
+progress, smiled easily at the success of his understudy.</p>
+
+<p>"I say," said Bourne to me, "what's come over Todd? Blessed if that usual
+ass didn't handle the Fifth <i>v</i>. Sixth to-day simply beautifully.
+When you're lynched, Gus will fill your shoes completely. Talks so-so,
+too. Who's improving him?"</p>
+
+<p>I acted on Phil's advice, and Todd and I parcelled out the outstanding
+fixtures between us. Then Todd became one of the best-known fellows in
+the school, and strolled up the hill with Worcester, Acton, Vercoe, and
+other heroes as to the manner born. The old, lazy, shallow, shifty,
+shiftless Gus was drifting into the background every day.</p>
+
+<p>Then Todd gave us a final shock. I was hurrying down the High when a
+constable asked me if I could tell him "where a young gentleman named
+Todd lived."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm passing by his house," said I, more than a trifle puzzled as to what
+the police might want with Gus. "Hope it isn't house-breaking,
+constable?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," said he, laughing. "It is a matter of ice-breakin'."</p>
+
+<p>I expect I looked mystified.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Todd, sir, fished out of the water just below the Low Locks a common
+ordinary drunk, Robins&mdash;a bargee. That was yesterday afternoon, and this
+morning the superintendent sends me to see how he is."</p>
+
+<p>I looked more blankly ignorant than before.</p>
+
+<p>"He's kept it dark, I see, sir. There isn't a bigger fool alive than
+Robins when he's drunk&mdash;which he mostly&mdash;what is&mdash;and he acted yesterday
+up to the usual form of drunks. He <i>would</i> go on the ice just below
+the locks, when it would hardly bear a sparrer, let alone a drunk Robin,
+and he naturally goes under before he'd gone a dozen yards. Mr. Todd went
+for him without, I fancy, considering the risks. He broke the ice up to
+that forsaken Robins, and waded in after him. When <i>we</i> got there he
+was up to his neck in water, and he'd got the fool by the collar; then we
+pulled 'em both out. Mind, up to his chin in that frozen water! We
+thought Robins was a goner from cold when we landed 'im, and asked Mr.
+Todd's name as bein' likely to be required at the inquest. But, bless
+you, sir, Robins pulled through all right; that sort generally does."</p>
+
+<p>"Was there any one to help Todd, when he went for the fellow?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir; he just waded in and took his chance. I wouldn't&mdash;at least not
+for an ord'nary drunk. Mr. Todd just ran home as he was: said the sprint
+would warm him to rights. How is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Got a vile cold; he was barking pretty well all chapel."</p>
+
+<p>"And Robins," said the policeman, in disgust, "doesn't own up to a
+snuffle. This Mr. Todd's house, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I'd just ask to see Mr. Taylor, the housemaster, first. I fancy
+he'll be pleased to see you."</p>
+
+<p>The constable's plain, unvarnished tale gave the Rev. E. Taylor as
+pleasant a ten minutes as he had enjoyed for some time, and he passed on
+the worthy man to the butler with instructions as to "something hot."
+Then he rapped on Todd's door.</p>
+
+<p>Decidedly the ship <i>Agustus Vernon Robert Todd</i> "had found herself."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XVII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3>RAFFLES' BILL</h3>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>It was with hearty thankfulness at the idea of being finally rid of
+Raffles that Jack walked over to the &quot;Lodestone&quot; by himself on the
+Thursday, jingling his last few shillings in his pockets. Raffles was
+waiting for him in the stables, and he was very friendly and familiar,
+which always annoyed Jack immensely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Glad you're in time, sir, and to 'ear the dibs a-rattlin' in your
+pockets.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because they'll rattle in yours, soon, I suppose. I make out I owe you
+about ten shillings, Raffles.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Ow do you make that out, Mr. Bourne?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rabbits, cartridges, and dummy pigeons. I'm about right, I fancy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right as far as they go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As far as they go, of course&mdash;not farther. Then here you are.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the gun,&quot; said Raffles, calmly, looking into vacancy, and not
+seeing Jack's coins&mdash;&quot;leastwise, wot was a gun.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Am I to pay for that filthy article?&quot; said Jack, angrily. &quot;Why, it
+nearly blew my brains out!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'As'e to pay for that breech-loader gun?&quot; said Raffles, laughing
+softly as at some good joke. &quot;Why, of course you have.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My opinion is, Raffles, that that gun was rotten. It wasn't worth a
+sovereign. I don't believe it was ever fit to shoot with, now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course, <i>now</i>,&quot; said Raffles, with a sneer. &quot;<i>Now</i>, when you've got
+to pay for it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know so much about 'have got to pay for it' at all. That grin
+of yours doesn't improve your looks, Raffles,&quot; said Jack, who was rather
+nettled by Raffles' sneer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, my bantam cock,&quot; said Raffles, savagely, &quot;I only 'opes as this
+'ere bill won't spoil yours. And let me tell you, young shaver, I want
+the money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack calmly took the piece of note-paper which Raffles hurriedly fished
+out of his pocket, and flourished dramatically before Bourne. There was
+a touching simplicity about Raffles' bill-making that would in ordinary
+times have made Jack split with laughter, but, naturally, at the present
+time he did not feel in a very jovial frame of mind. Hence he read
+through the farrago with only one very strong desire&mdash;to kick Raffles
+neck and crop out of the stable. This was the bill:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div style="margin-left: 20%;">
+  <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="1" width="40%" summary="Table of Contents">
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" colspan="2">Mr. burn owes me daniel raffles this money.<br />&nbsp;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdleft">To bunneys at sixpence each</td>
+  <td class="tdright">2 0</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdleft">To 50 cartrigges</td>
+  <td class="tdright">6 6</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdleft">To pidgins</td>
+  <td class="tdright">1 6</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdleft">1 gunn breech loder</td>
+  <td class="tdright" style="text-decoration: underline;">&pound;7&nbsp;&nbsp; 0 0</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdleft">totel</td>
+  <td class="tdright">&pound;7 10 0</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Raffles,&quot; said Jack, in a white heat, &quot;what do you mean by this
+rotten foolery?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's no foolery about it,&quot; said Raffles, sulkily. &quot;That's my bill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, you unspeakable rascal, did you fancy I'd pay it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I did, and I do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something in the fellow's tone made Jack a trifle uneasy, and he
+considered within himself for a moment what he had better do. That the
+rascal had made up his mind to be nasty was evident, and when Jack
+thought that the gun, poor as it was, was destroyed, though through no
+fault of his own, he thought perhaps he might give his old jackal
+something as a solatium.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right, Raffles! I'll pay you for what I owe you now, and I'll give
+you a sovereign for the gun. I'll send you that in a day or two. I've no
+more money with me now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That ain't the bill. I want this 'ere bill paid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'This 'ere bill' is sheer rot!&quot; retorted Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rot or not, it's what I want from you. You pay up that seven odd, or it
+will be the worse for you. What is seven odd to a young gent like you?
+Aren't you all millionaires at St. Amory's?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not by a long chalk.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I don't want to be unpleasant, my buck, but if you won't pay over
+I'll show you up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Show me up, you beast&mdash;what do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll write to Corker and blow the gaff.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you did that,&quot; said Bourne, grimly, &quot;I'd kill you first day I could
+do it.&quot;</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-7"><!-- Image 7 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 55%;">
+<a href="images/007.jpg">
+<img src="images/007.jpg" width="100%"
+alt="I'm Going To Have The Seven Ten, Or Show You Up." border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+&quot;I'm Going To Have The Seven Ten, Or Show You Up.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Or I'd write to your brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And he'd do it now, you skunk!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No names, young gent. That won't pay my bill. You don't seem to imagine
+I mean what I say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I don't, for you wouldn't be any <i>nearer</i> getting the money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But then you say you aren't going to pay anyhow, so I may as well touch
+you up a bit. You've most every time told me not to be so beastly
+friendly, and I ain't going to be. I'm going to have the seven ten or
+show you up. That's straight.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Show me up,&quot; repeated Jack, blankly. &quot;You miserable blackmailer!&quot;
+Bourne felt then the beautiful feelings of being in the grasp of a
+low-bred cad who could play with him as a cat with a mouse. He sat
+staring in front of him livid with rage, and Raffles, who was watching
+him covertly, and with no small anxiety, could see he was digesting the
+whole situation. Jack would indeed then and there have let Raffles do
+his worst, and would have stood the racket from Corker&mdash;and his
+brother&mdash;rather than be blackmailed by the villain by his side, but he
+said hopelessly to himself, &quot;How can I do it without bringing Acton into
+it? When this comes out all his training with the Coon must come out
+too; perhaps he'll lose his monitorship for not keeping his hand on me,
+and Phil's done him a bad enough turn already. I can't round on him.
+Heavens! I can't do that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This reads rather pitiful, doesn't it, under the circumstances?</p>
+
+<p>Jack at the end of his resources tried a desperate bluff.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll put Acton on your track, my beauty, and perhaps he'll make you
+see&mdash;or feel&mdash;reason.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That game's no good, young shaver. I don't want to see Mr. Acting no
+more than you want to tell him of your little blow-outs. Look here, are
+you going to pay? Yes or no?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I haven't got the money,&quot; said Jack, at his wits' end.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ho! that's very likely,&quot; said Raffles, with a sneer; &quot;anyhow, you could
+mighty soon get it if you wanted to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, borrow it, of course. Ask your chum, Mr. Acting. <i>He</i> 'as money.
+No end of brass, the Coon says.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I can't do that,&quot; said Jack, in utter despair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Orl right,&quot; said Raffles, seeing his shot had told. &quot;I see you ain't
+got the money on you now, and I don't want to be too 'ard on you. I'll
+give you a chance. I'll give you till Saturday to turn it over. My
+advice is to borrow from Mr. Acting. He'll lend it you, I should think;
+anyhow, I can't stand shilly-shallying here all night, no more than I
+can stand the loss of that grand gun, so I'm off. Have the money by
+Saturday at three, or I blow the gaff and you can be hung up or cut up
+for all I care. I'm not going to be more beastly friendly nor more
+chummy than that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Raffles lurched off with a savage leer, and Jack staggered back to St.
+Amory's.</p>
+
+<p>Jack's life was a burden to him for the next few hours, his head nearly
+split with the hatching of impossible plans with loopholes to escape the
+weasel on his track, but the end was as Acton had foreseen. Acton got a
+note through Grim.</p>
+
+<div style="margin-left: 10%;">
+<p>&quot;<span class="sc">Dear Acton</span>,<br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;Could you give me ten minutes in your study to-night?&mdash;Yours,</span><br />
+&quot;<span class="sc">J. Bourne</span>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<span class="sc">Dear Bourne</span>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;Twenty, if you like.&mdash;Yours,</span><br/>
+&quot;<span class="sc">J. Acton</span>.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Jack went, and when Acton put him into the easy-chair and noticed his
+white, fagged face, he felt genuinely sorry for him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You look seedy, young 'un.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I hope I don't look as seedy as I feel, that's all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's the matter?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack boggled over what he'd come to say, but finally blurted out:
+&quot;Acton, would you lend me seven pounds? I'm in a hole, the deuce of a
+hole; in fact, I'm pretty well hopelessly stumped. I'll tell you why if
+you ask me, but I hope you won't. I've been an ass, but I've collared
+some awful luck, and I'm not quite the black sheep I seem. I don't want
+to ask Phil&mdash;in fact, I couldn't, simply couldn't ask him for this. I'll
+pay you back beginning of next term if I can raise as much, and if not,
+as much as I can then, and the rest later.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, you're straight enough, young 'un, and I'll lend you the money,&quot;
+said Acton.</p>
+
+<p>Jack blubbed in his thanks, for he was really run down.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Keep up your pecker, Bourne. Borrowing isn't a crime, quite. When do
+you want the cash?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By to-morrow, please,&quot; said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Call in for it, then, before afternoon school, and you can pay me back
+as you say. I suppose the sharks have got hold of you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Jack, with perfect truth, though he only knew of one, and he
+went to bed that night blessing Acton. His gorge rose when he thought of
+his fleecing, and at this he almost blubbed with rage as he blubbed with
+gratitude to Acton.</p>
+
+<p>That interesting Shylock, Raffles, was at the farm confidently waiting
+young Bourne and his coins, and when he saw the young innocent bowling
+furiously down the road, he sighed with satisfaction. His dream was
+true.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Write out the receipt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've already done it, Mr. Bourne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then here's your blackmail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Correct to the figure, sir, and I think it's a settle, nice and
+comfortable for all parties.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If it's any comfort for you to know you're an utter blackguard you can
+hear it. A fellow like you isn't on the same level as your filthy
+mongrel.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I never said we was,&quot; murmured Raffles, as he shuffled away.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XVIII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>HODGSON'S QUIETUS</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Acton now felt pretty safe as regards young Bourne. He held him fast in
+the double bonds of indebtedness and of gratitude, and with Jack the
+gratitude was by far the greater. Acton had saved him from disgrace,
+from a lengthened stringing up, from the scorn of his brother, from the
+jeers and laughter of the rest of the fellows. Like others, he could
+have stood Corker's rage better than the jokes of his cronies. He was
+received back into the fold of his own particular set with more <i>&eacute;clat</i>
+than he felt he deserved.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here's old Bourne gone and sacked Acton,&quot; said Grim.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sure Acton hasn't sacked him?&quot; suggested Rogers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Best fellow breathing,&quot; said Bourne, fervently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Still, he's Biffen's.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't care whether he's a water-lily or not&mdash;he can't help that, you
+know, poor fellow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why should he? Aren't we cock house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where would you have been if Acton hadn't lifted you out of your muddy
+pond, and let you see a little sunlight?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You should be his fag,&quot; said Grim.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'd jolly well like to,&quot; said Jack. &quot;I'd black his boots almost.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's a dozen pairs,&quot; said Grim.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Write a poem on his virtues,&quot; suggested Rogers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Shut up this rot,&quot; said Wilson. &quot;Let's try a run round the Bender&mdash;last
+fellow stands tea at Hoopers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Carried, <i>nem. con</i>.,&quot; said Grim, who was pretty speedy.</p>
+
+<p>And the reunited half-dozen cronies ran the three miles out and ditto
+home, Wilson subsequently standing tea, for, as he pathetically
+explained, &quot;I was overhauling Rogers hand over hand when I slipped my
+shoe, else he'd have had to fork out.&quot; Thus Jack became again for a
+while the common or garden variety of school-boy, and he enjoyed the
+change.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+
+<p>Phil Bourne came into my room the same evening that saw Jack Bourne
+released from the toils of Raffles.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Busy, old man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not at all,&quot; said I, pushing away my books. &quot;Jolly glad you've come
+in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's a bit of news for you. I've just been in the gym. I fancy the
+old school will pull off the 'Heavy' at Aldershot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Has Hodgson turned out so jolly well, then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hodgson! Oh no! Hodgson isn't going to be the school's representative
+this year, I fancy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, have you been in form to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look here, old man, you are quite out of it. You sit here reading up
+all that ancient lore about the cestus, and you could tell me the names
+of all Nero's gladiators, and yet here at this establishment we've got a
+gladiator who is going to make history, and you don't know it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought you were the only fellow who could show Hodgson anything.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; said Phil. &quot;I never was as good as Hodgson. I always made a point
+of making him go all the way to win on principle, but he always had a
+pull more or less over me. You see, Hodgson is lazy, and he wanted some
+one to challenge the right to represent the school, or I don't fancy
+he'd have put in enough good work to stand much chance against the Eton
+man. Therefore I stepped into the breach, and, by sweating him, have
+made Hodgson from a very fair boxer into a good one&mdash;good, but nothing
+super-excellent.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then who's been lying low all this time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Acton.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Acton?</i>&quot; said I, in utter astonishment. &quot;Why, didn't our dear Theodore
+dress him down once for losing his temper in the gym?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He did, my boy, and Acton repaid the compliment to-night&mdash;with
+interest. He opened our eyes for us. I'm telling the bare truth when I
+say that he simply played with Theodore, and at the third round he as
+good as knocked him out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I stared into the fire for a minute or two, thinking out this news.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eureka!&quot; said I. &quot;I've found it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The reason Acton crops up here. He cannot forget an injury. Hodgson
+humbled him once, and so Acton must needs take away from Theodore his
+own peculiar pet ambition, which is to represent St. Amory's at
+Aldershot in the Heavy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish,&quot; said Phil, gloomily, &quot;Biffen's Beauty's schemes always worked
+out so well for the school's honour. He'll represent St. Amory's without
+a doubt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is he so very good, then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Super-excellent, old fellow! Prodigious!&quot; said Phil, with genuine
+admiration. &quot;We'll all sleep with both ears on the pillow when the
+telegram comes from Aldershot. Such a left! He has a swinging, curly
+stroke which he uses after an artful little feint which would win the
+final by itself. Hodgson really seemed trying to catch quick-silver when
+he tried to get home on Acton. Where did Acton learn all this? The
+sergeant hasn't got that artful mis-hit in his bag of tricks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't speculate on Acton's doings or where he picks up what he knows.
+It's too intricate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What a pity one can't go and shake his hand as one would like to do. He
+is a marvel&mdash;this dark horse,&quot; said Phil, with genuine regret, as always
+when speaking of Acton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our <i>b&ecirc;te noir</i>,&quot; said I, without winking.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You heathen,&quot; said Phil, laughing. &quot;That was almost a pun. But I'm
+afraid I'm a bit selfish in my joy about Acton. Since he's a certainty,
+I can devote all my mighty mind to rackets. I don't think there is a
+better pair in the place than Vercoe and self at present.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, thou modest one!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Toby' always finishes up 'When you and Mr. Vercoe goes to Queen's
+Club, Mr. Bourne, I advise you, etc.' So, 'Toby' evidently has no doubt
+who's to go there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Toby&quot; Tucker was our racket professional, and when he spotted a pair
+for the public-school rackets, Fenton, the master who finally chose the
+pair, never said &quot;Nay.&quot; &quot;Toby&quot; was incorruptible. With both his little
+eyes fixed inexorably on merit, the greatest joys of his life were
+consummated when the St. Amory's pair brought the championship home.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Congratulate you, old man. If Acton pulls off the Aldershot and you and
+Vercoe the rackets&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If I only felt as confident on our lifting that as I do of Acton
+bringing off his, I'd go straightway and smother 'Toby.' He almost works
+one to death.&quot;</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XIX"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3>HOW THEY &quot;'ELPED THE PORE FELLER&quot;</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>As a rule, the laboratory was empty on half-holidays, and Gus used to
+work through his tables in solitude, when he tried a little
+&quot;bottle-washing&quot; as a change from the refereeing, but one afternoon he
+found no less a person than W.E. Grim, the prize fag of Biffen's, doing
+something very seriously with a green powder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hullo, young 'un! What are you footling round here for?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lancaster has given me this salt to analyze, Todd. I think there's
+copper in it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What have you been up to, that Lancaster has run you in? Half-holiday,
+too!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He hasn't run me in,&quot; said Grim, sulkily. &quot;As a special favour he's let
+me come in here to work a little myself. I did a ripping chemistry paper
+last week, and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I see. Are <i>you</i> going to give Biffen's another leg up, too?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just as soon as you give Taylor's one,&quot; said Grim, who, in common with
+all the juniors, did not fear the easy-going Todd.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No cheek!&quot; said Gus. &quot;If I mixed up coal-dust and brick-dust, how'd
+you separate 'em?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask my grandmother for a telescope, and look out the mix through the
+butt end.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite so,&quot; said Todd, chuckling. &quot;I suppose you've given me a specimen
+of Biffen's latest brand of wit. Well, don't make too big a row in
+hunting for your copper, and then I'll not chuck you out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Grim murmured something disparaging Todd's authority for chucking out,
+but Gus languidly sidled off to his own particular bench, where, out of
+sight of Grim, he prepared to do an afternoon's quiet work.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Grim's particular cronies, Wilson, Rogers, Sharpe, Poulett,
+and young Bourne, arrayed in all the glory of mud-stained footer-togs,
+after vainly waiting outside Biffen's, were seeking high and low for the
+copper-hunting chemist, who, for many reasons, had kept his afternoon's
+plan very dark. He knew only too well that his beloved chums would not
+hear of an afternoon's work, and would head him off either to footer or
+a run round the Bender. Therefore, immediately after dinner, he had made
+an unostentatious exit, and reached the laboratory in safety.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where <i>is</i> Grimmy?&quot; said Sharpe.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Dunno,&quot; said Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did he know of our six-a-side against Merishall's lot?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather! Said he hoped we'd win.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>We!</i> Why, is he backing out, then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, we've waited for him half an hour, and there's no sign of him
+yet&mdash;look's like it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is up with him, I wonder?&quot; said Poulett.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Seemed rather mysterious this morning&mdash;rather stand-offish to my idea.
+Perhaps, though, he's only guzzling buns or swilling coffee somewhere.
+Let's see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The quintette thereupon spread themselves out, but every shop was drawn
+blank.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rum!&quot; said Rogers. &quot;Where can the ass be?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If we knew, Solomon, would we try to find out?&quot; said Sharpe.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I say, you fellows&mdash;I've got an idea about Grimmy. Didn't Lancaster
+give him a leg-up for his chemistry the other day? Permission to footle
+in the lab. on half-holidays, and all the rest of it? Grim was no end
+cocky over that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Grimmy waste a 'halfer' bottle-washing! Rot! That isn't his form,
+Wilson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If,&quot; said Poulett, impressively, &quot;he <i>has</i> sunk so low, we must give
+him an 'elpin' 'and, pore feller!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather. If Lancaster has put the cover over old Grimmy we must get him
+out somehow. Let's adjourn to see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The honourable five forthwith moved over to the laboratory, and Grim
+received his beloved cronies with hot blushes and a rather nervous
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I say, you chaps, what do you want?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What did we want?&quot; said Bourne, as though he'd forgotten it. &quot;What was
+it, Rogers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A fellow, formerly Grimmy, not a nasty bottle-washer,&quot; said Rogers,
+more in sorrow than in anger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But yesterday and Grimmy was an average back, and now he's holding up
+some filthy brew to the sunlight to see how muddy it is. Oh, my great
+aunt!&quot; chimed in Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How are the mighty fallen!&quot; gasped Sharpe.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look here, you fellows&mdash;&quot; began Grim, with still more vivid blushes
+mantling his noble face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Ear, 'ear! speech! speech! withdraw! apologize!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm not ashamed of being here and doing a little chemistry for my own
+amusement, so there; and you fellows had better cut before Lancaster
+comes and runs you all in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is all right, Grimmy. Lancaster's sporting a silk tile, so he's
+off to town. To think of your cutting our six-a-side to puff down a
+dirty blow-pipe! Come out, you idiot, and get into your footer togs!&quot;
+said Sharpe.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm not coming, I tell you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Insanity in the family, evidently,&quot; observed Poulett, judicially.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aren't you coming, really?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I'm not; do get out and leave me alone!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never!&quot; said Poulett. &quot;We'll stay with him and see him through the fit,
+eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather! We'll never desert you, Grimmy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll let the six-a-side slide for this afternoon, and we'll help
+Grimmy with his salt,&quot; suggested the egg-poacher, brilliantly; and any
+amount of hidden meaning was in the word &quot;help.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We will! we will!&quot; cried the rest, spotting Poulett's idea instanter,
+with enthusiastic joy; and despite Grim's frenzied declamation and
+eloquence they all &quot;helped.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For two hours&mdash;as lively a couple of hours as ever were passed within
+the laboratory&mdash;Gus lay low behind the far bench and enjoyed the
+afternoon's performance far more than Grim. The green powder underwent
+some weird experiments, each of the quintette availing himself of Grim's
+knowledge and test-tubes and acid-bottles with the utmost freedom. The
+analysis of Lancaster's mixture gave various results, but when Rogers
+&quot;found&quot; rhubarb and black-lead this was held the correct find, and after
+this verdict the generous five put up the test-tubes in the rack. They
+all said Rogers had settled the matter, and anyway they had had a jolly
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Understand,&quot; observed Poulett, as he washed away some acid stains from
+his bare knees, &quot;that Grimmy is not ashamed of his black-lead and
+rhubarb hunt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why those vivid blushes, then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We never bargained that old Grim would copy that Fifth Form ass, Todd,
+and chum up with Lancaster, did we?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What did you say about Todd?&quot; inquired Grim, suavely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Said he was an ass.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A what?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An ass, a jackass, a howling jackass!&quot; cried Poulett, <i>crescendo</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Remember Corker pitching into him? Said he wasn't fit for a decent
+nursery, and Toddy had his mouth open all the time.&quot;</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-8"><!-- Image 8 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 55%;">
+<a href="images/008.jpg">
+<img src="images/008.jpg" width="100%"
+alt="The Green Powder Underwent Some Weird Experiments" border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+The Green Powder Underwent Some Weird Experiments.</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Bully Cotton has given Toddy up. Toddy was too big an ass even for
+Cotton,&quot; remarked Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He looks fairly intelligent,&quot; observed Grim, in a gentle whisper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So did you, almost, till you started fooling like this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Grim artistically kept the conversation on Todd, and Gus learned how
+like an ass each individual of the quintette thought him. He smiled
+gently at Grim's astuteness in paying him out so neatly for his previous
+friendly remarks about chucking out. When the first stroke of the
+roll-call bell reached the laboratory he emerged solemnly and with state
+from his retreat, and stalked quietly through the knot of his outspoken
+critics, who were instantly besieged by a variety of emotions. He closed
+the laboratory door after him, and, when he saw the key outside, the
+temptation to repay the left-handed compliments of Poulett and Co. in
+their own coin was too strong. Gus gently turned the key, and was
+halfway down the corridor before the band arrived at the locked door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let us out!&quot; shrieked Rogers. &quot;We'll apologize all of us&mdash;won't we,
+Poulett?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes!&quot; yelled Poulett. &quot;Anything! Oh, Todd, do let us out!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But Todd went on his way, serenely ignoring the frantic appeals behind
+him, and turned out into the street with a sweet smile on his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That beast, Todd, has gone, and Merishall will ladle us out three
+hundred of Virgil for missing call-over,&quot; moaned Bourne.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's four hundred, if Merishall takes it,&quot; said Rogers, with dire
+conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not for me,&quot; said Grim, beaming cheerfully around; &quot;I'm all right. I'll
+tell Merishall that the door was locked; but as for you five idiots, who
+oughtn't to be here at all&mdash;well! What the dickens did you want to call
+old Toddy all those fancy names for, you silly cuckoos?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, look here, Grim, you artful bounder,&quot; shouted Poulett, bitterly,
+&quot;you've got us into this mess. Why didn't you say Todd was behind those
+back benches?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, why?&quot; shouted the rest of the raging fags. &quot;We'll scrag you for
+this, darling. Cuckoos are we? Scrag him&mdash;put him in the scrum.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>W.E. Grim had a very bad five minutes, but when he crawled out of the
+scrum, hot, damaged, and dusty, he said viciously&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I hope Merishall gives you a thou., you beastly cads. You've mucked up
+my afternoon, and I'm hanged if I don't tell Lancaster.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes after roll-call the janitor let them out, and shortly
+afterwards a wretched procession of five emerged from Merishall's room
+with two hundred lines from Virgil hanging over each head for a missed
+call-over without excuse. Grim worked an artistic revenge on his
+scrummagers by calling personally the next half-holiday to inquire if
+they would prefer to analyze a green salt or to play a six-a-side
+against Merishall's lot. In every instance a Virgil hurtled towards his
+head. Having done his duty to his friends, he left them to pious &AElig;neas
+and the slope of Avernus, whilst he got another salt from the
+science-master, and, with Gus, possessed the laboratory in peace.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XX"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h3>ACTON'S TRUMP CARD</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>On the Saturday before we should go home Acton was due at Aldershot, and
+would return the same night, as the fellows hoped, with his laurels
+thick upon him. Bourne and Vercoe were staying at school a week later
+than we, for the rackets did not come off until our holidays had
+commenced. Toby had begged for this almost with tears in his eyes, for
+he had a mortal dread of the relaxing process of a week at home.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You'd have no 'ands, Mr. Bourne, no spring, no eyes, when you toed the
+mark at Kensington. I'll send you fit if I have you here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So Vercoe and Phil agreed to stay.</p>
+
+<p>And now Acton determined to put into operation his long-thought-of
+scheme for the paying off of the score against Phil. It was subtle, and
+founded on a perfect knowledge of Bourne's character, and a perfect
+disregard of the consequences to any one&mdash;even including himself. Acton
+would have willingly martyred himself, if he could have inflicted a
+little of the torments on Bourne too.</p>
+
+<p>There was one rule from which Dr. Moore never swerved a hair's breadth.
+Compared to this particular law the stringency of the Old Game
+regulation for Thursday was lax indeed. He never had departed from it,
+and he never would depart from it. If any fellow took it into his head
+to slip out of his house after lights out at ten on any pretence
+whatever he was expelled. There was some legend in connection with this
+severity, what exactly none of us rightly knew, but according to the
+tale the escapade of two fellows years ago, when Corker was new to the
+place, had resulted in one of the fellows being shot. Twice had he
+expelled fellows while I was at school&mdash;Remington and Cunningham&mdash;and I
+cannot ever forget the old man's deathlike face as he told them to go.
+Some fellows broke out and were not found out, for Corker wasn't going
+to have any barred windows as in some places. Any one <i>could</i> break out
+any night he liked, but he knew what he might expect if he were caught.
+There was no help. Remington had been found out, and though there had
+been Remingtons in the school since Anne's reign, Corker was inexorable.
+He was expelled.</p>
+
+<p>In a word, Acton determined to go to London and to take young Bourne
+with him, and so risk certain expulsion for both, supposing they were
+discovered. He had no intention of being expelled, though; for he liked
+the life at St. Amory's, where incense floated round him all day long,
+but he meant, when he had accomplished the ruin of Jack, to let Bourne
+senior know it. Acton gloated in advance over Phil's anger, shame, and
+consternation, and&mdash;this was the cream of the joke&mdash;his utter inability
+to do anything except keep silence and chew the bitter cud of hopeless
+rage against him&mdash;the man to whom he would not give the footer cap.
+Acton never thought of Jack's share in the matter at all, and yet he was
+genuinely fond of him; all he thought of was what would be Philip's
+hopeless rage.</p>
+
+<p>Phil, of course, could say nothing to Corker, for he knew it would be
+hopeless. And Acton knew that Phil's pride could never bear the idea of
+Jack&mdash;a Bourne&mdash;being expelled from the old place. Therefore he would
+keep silence. I don't think I used the wrong adjective when I said it
+was subtle. The only question was&mdash;could he so manage that Jack would
+go? And Acton for good reasons was pretty certain that he could.</p>
+
+<p>Jack was staidly taking a turn up and down the pavement with Grim when,
+on passing by Biffen's house, he heard a whistle from one of the
+windows, and, on looking up, he saw Acton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I want you, Bourne, for five minutes&mdash;if you can spare them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course he can,&quot; said Grim, <i>sotto voce</i>. &quot;Aren't you a monitor?
+Jack, my boy, Acton wants to knight you&mdash;or something. You'll find his
+boots in the bottom cupboard, if you want to black 'em very much. I
+suppose, being only a common or garden fag, my feelings aren't to be
+considered for a moment. When you were&mdash;for once&mdash;talking sensibly for a
+Corker fag, you are called away to&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cork all that frivol, old man, till you see me at tea,&quot; said Jack,
+moving into Biffen's yard.</p>
+
+<p>When Jack was comfortably installed in a chair, Acton bolted his door,
+and, somewhat to young Bourne's surprise, seemed rather in a fix how to
+start what he had to say. The locking of the door was unusual, and this,
+combined with Acton's grave face and hesitating manner, made Jack a
+trifle uneasy. Whatever was coming?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I say, Bourne,&quot; at last said his friend, &quot;do you know anything about
+betting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Betting!&quot; said Jack, with a vivid blush. &quot;About as much as most of the
+fellows know of it. Not more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, do you mind reading this?&quot; He handed Jack a slip of paper which
+contained such cryptic sentences as: &quot;Grape Shot gone wrong, though he
+will run. Pocket Book is the tip. If you're on Grape Shot, hedge on best
+terms you can get,&quot; etc.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I understand that,&quot; said Jack, &quot;you've&mdash;if this means you&mdash;you've
+backed the wrong horse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Exactly,&quot; said Acton. &quot;I backed Grape Shot for the Lincolnshire
+Handicap, and he hasn't a ghost of a chance now. Gone wrong.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see,&quot; said Jack, absolutely staggered that Acton, a monitor, should
+tell him, a fag, that he was betting on horse-racing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see, young 'un, that you seem surprised at my little flutter, but, by
+Jove! this will have to be my last. Do you know, Bourne, I'm in an awful
+hole.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm very sorry to hear it,&quot; said Jack, with no end of concern.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see, if Pocket Book pulls the handicap off before I've time to trim
+my sails, I lose a lot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Much,&quot; said Jack, &quot;<i>for you?</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thirty pounds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whew!&quot; whistled Bourne.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I get a good allowance from home, Bourne, but I'm bound to say thirty
+pounds would cripple me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather,&quot; said Jack, with a gasp.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course, if the worst did come to the worst, I'd have to apply to
+home; but there would be, as you might guess, no end of a row about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then you must hedge,&quot; said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is it, exactly. I must back Pocket Book for first place. This is a
+sure tip&mdash;I can depend upon it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then send to the fellow you bet with, and let him put you on Pocket
+Book.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is just it, Jack&mdash;the bookmaker wouldn't take a bet from me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why ever not?&quot; said Jack, mystified.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because I'm a minor&mdash;I'm under age.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then how do you manage?&quot; said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I bet through another man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see,&quot; said Jack, for this was but another edition of his own little
+adventures. &quot;And that man&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is Raffles,&quot; said Acton, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Jack bounced out of his chair as if he had been stung. &quot;That beast!&quot; he
+gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Raffles?&quot; said Acton, with a slow smile. &quot;I didn't know he was a
+beast.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is the meanest skunk alive,&quot; said Jack. He added fervently, &quot;Acton,
+have no dealings with that fellow. He is an abominable sharper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thanks,&quot; said Acton, with a slight grimace at Jack's advice. &quot;But, all
+the same, I have to deal through Raffles.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then write to the fellow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know&mdash;I've forgotten his address.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I'm hanged if I understand it!&quot; said Jack, lost in astonishment.
+&quot;If you don't know it, and your bookmaker will only bet through Raffles,
+you are in a hole&mdash;a marvellously deep one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's only one way out&mdash;find Raffles.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that you can't do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that I think I can do by going to London.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, we're off for the holidays on Tuesday, and you can find Raffles
+then.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should be hopelessly too late if I waited till then. It would be
+almost ruinous to be put on to Pocket Book in a day's time. I must hedge
+to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To-night?&quot; said Jack, in a complete fog. &quot;And you haven't found
+Raffles!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, but I think I know where to find him to-night. You know the Coon is
+having a match with the Battersea Beauty at the Universal Sporting Club,
+and Raffles is pretty sure to be there, and I must see him then.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But that means going to London, Acton.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And Corker would expel you&mdash;even you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Without a doubt&mdash;if he finds out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's a chance that he may.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, but it's a mighty slender one, and in any case I mean to&mdash;I
+<i>must</i>&mdash;risk it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm awfully sorry for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Jack, I want you to listen to me,&quot; said Acton, very gravely, and
+his voice showed his genuine anxiety. &quot;The Coon's match does not
+commence until eleven o'clock at night, because an awful lot of the
+Universal Sporters are actors and they cannot get away before that time
+at earliest. Now, there are two entrances for the members into the club,
+one in Pelican Street and the other in Ridge Street. Raffles must enter
+by one or the other, and there must be some one at each doorway to give
+him my note. I can take the one, and the question is&mdash;who will take the
+second doorway?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not I, Acton,&quot; said Jack, in a blue funk. &quot;Please, Acton, don't ask
+me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack, believe me, you were the last person I wanted to ask. I would
+have asked Worcester or Chalmers if it had been any good, but they would
+not know Raffles from Adam. It is ten thousand pities, but you are the
+only fellow who knows Raffles here. No one else has ever set eyes on
+him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Acton, it means expulsion,&quot; said Jack, hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly for me if I'm caught, but, of course, I've no idea of being
+caught. Jack, I'm not going to ask you to come with me. I shall think no
+worse of you if you say you won't come, and I cannot take advantage
+over you to force you against your own wish, because I lent you money.
+Don't think so meanly of me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Acton,&quot; said Jack, sweating drops of terror, &quot;it <i>is</i> expulsion if
+we're caught.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack,&quot; said Acton, &quot;have you ever known me to fail yet in anything I
+undertake?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I <i>will</i> not fail here. If you like I'll give you my word of
+honour we shall not be caught, and, if by a miracle of ill-luck we
+should be, I shall see you through. I'll take every iota of blame on my
+own shoulders. You'll find yourself captain of the school one day yet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If I were expelled, Acton,&quot; said Jack, with intense conviction, &quot;the
+pater would kill me first, and die himself afterwards; and as for
+Phil&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack,&quot; said Acton, &quot;I must see the business through myself. You can't
+do it, I see. I must lose the &pound;30.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack got up and walked up and down the room in agony.</p>
+
+<p>For five minutes Acton watched his wretched prey torn to pieces by his
+conflicting fears&mdash;his shame of leaving Acton in the lurch, and his
+dread of discovery.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Acton,&quot; said Jack at length, &quot;I can't leave you in the lurch. I'll go
+with you to London.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton clasped Jack's hand, and said, &quot;Jack, you are a brick. I can only
+say I thank you.&quot; He had landed his fish, as he knew he would.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour afterwards Jack said, almost cheerfully, for Acton had
+been doing his best to smooth poor Bourne's ruffled feathers&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how are we to go to town?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've got a plan,&quot; said Acton; &quot;but I must turn it over in my mind
+first. If you'll look in, young 'un, after tea, I'll tell you how we do
+it. I'm going to see about it now. Once again, Jack, I thank you. You do
+stand by a fellow when he's down on his luck.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton and Jack went out&mdash;the monitor to make arrangements for the
+escapade, and Jack to Grim's quarters, where he was due for tea, which
+he demolished with comparative cheerfulness, for Jack's confidence in
+Acton was illimitable. After he had taken the jump he was not&mdash;is not
+now&mdash;the kind of boy to look back.</p>
+
+<p>At six young Bourne left his friend Grim among a waste of empty teacups,
+plates, and jam-pots, and went to Acton's room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've arranged all,&quot; said that worthy. &quot;I've seen the proprietor of the
+hotel down at Bring, and he's going to have a smart dog-cart and a
+smarter horse to do the dozen miles between here and Charing Cross ready
+for us at nine. He says we shall be rattled into town within the hour.
+So if we aren't in time to spot Raffles we are down on our luck with a
+vengeance. Your room is on the ground floor, isn't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Jack, &quot;overlooking Corker's flowerbeds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, pull up the window after supper as quietly as you can, and slip
+into the garden. Then scoot through the field, and you'll find me
+waiting for you in the hotel stables. You can pass the word to your
+chums in Corker's that you aren't going to be on show after supper, and
+then they won't be routing you out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My chums are mostly in Biffen's,&quot; said Jack. &quot;Grim and Rogers, etc.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good omen,&quot; said Acton. &quot;Leave your window so that you can easily shove
+it up when you come back, and leave your school cap behind, and bring a
+tweed instead. Got such an article?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How's your room lighted?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, we have the electric. It is switched off at ten, so that the light
+will not give any trouble, Acton.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, bolt your door, too. It seems as though the fates were fighting
+for us, eh, young 'un?&quot;</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XXI"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h3>LONDON AND BACK</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>At nine that night the two, as agreed upon, met at Dring in the hotel
+stables. There had been no mishaps.</p>
+
+<p>The groom was busy putting the horse into the trap, and, when Jack saw
+what a really smart turn-out Acton had engaged, his fears began to
+occupy less of his thoughts and the pleasures of a rattling hour's spin
+a jolly lot more. Punctually to the minute Jack climbed up beside the
+driver, the place of honour, and Acton swung himself up behind; the yard
+doors were flung open, and the gig rattled smartly out. The hotel
+proprietor had not chanted the praises of his horse in vain. On the
+level road it laid itself out to go for all it was worth.</p>
+
+<p>The pleasant music of the jingling harness and the scurrying of the
+wheels made as jolly a tune as Jack could wish to hear. There was a
+touch of frost in the air, which made the quick motion of the gig bite
+shrewdly on his cheeks, and made him button up his overcoat to the chin
+and settle his cap well over his ears. Acton threw out jokes, too, from
+behind, which made Jack feel no end clever to listen to them, and the
+driver now and then restrained his horse's &quot;freshness&quot; with the soothing
+mellow whistle which only drivers possess. The farmhouses, hayricks, and
+an occasional village, drifted past now to the right, now to the left,
+and occasionally they overhauled a leisurely belated cyclist, who at
+once began to take an unimportant position in the rear, his lamp growing
+less and less down the stretch of long white road.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the houses began to come more frequently, then came the streets
+with their long avenues of yellow lights, and within the hour they were
+rolling smoothly over the wooden pavements.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Piccadilly,&quot; said Acton. &quot;Drop us at the top of Whitehall, will you?
+Then you can take the horse to the mews. Be ready for us outside
+Frascati's by twelve. Understand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, sir, at Frascati's by twelve! I know the place.&quot; A minute or two
+later the two swung off in Trafalgar Square, and the driver rattled away
+into the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>Jack was delighted. &quot;Spiffing run, Acton, eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Glad you liked it, young 'un. Now let us localize the Universal
+Sporting Club. I know it's about Covent Garden somewhere.&quot; Together they
+went up the crowded Strand, Jack enjoying every minute of the bustling
+walk to the Garden and imagining that he was a very much daring young
+desperado to be so far from his little white bunk at St. Amory's. He
+would have been usually fast asleep by this time.</p>
+
+<p>The Universal Sporting Club was not a difficult place to find, and
+though all its windows were lighted up, upon its fast shut doors were
+two little notices: &quot;This door will be open at 11 p.m. None but members
+and friends admitted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; said Acton, &quot;we've got about twenty minutes before there's any
+particular need to begin our watch for Raffles, but some of the members
+are hanging round now. The early birds get the best perch for the show.
+On the whole, perhaps you'd better prowl about this door now, whilst I
+go round the corner and see if I can run our fox to his earth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All serene,&quot; said Jack. &quot;I'll mark time out here till I see you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton walked round the corner, and Jack perambulated about, peering into
+the faces of the idlers to see if he could spot the well-known and
+much-detested face of Raffles. He had (of course) no luck.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes afterwards Acton came back smiling. &quot;Almost first fellow I
+ran against was Raffles, and I've given him his instructions. He'll
+hedge for me with the bookie within five minutes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So you're quite safe now, Acton?&quot; said Jack, beaming.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, quite,&quot; said Acton, laughing. &quot;Now, Jack, you've been no end
+brickish, and I'm going to treat you. Ever seen a ballet?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, you shall.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A hansom flitted slowly up to them, and Acton hailed it. &quot;In you get,
+Jack. Kingdom!&quot; said Acton to the cabby. They glided noiselessly
+through the lighted streets, and in a minute or so were before the
+&quot;Kingdom Theatre.&quot; The two hurried up the steps, and Acton asked an
+attendant if the ballet were rung up yet.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, sir. Two stalls, sir? Certainly. Twelve and thirteen are vacant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack had never seen a ballet before, and when the gorgeous ballet
+&quot;Katrina&quot; slowly passed before his eyes, and he followed the simple
+story which was almost interpreted by the lovely music, when every fresh
+scene seemed lovelier than all the rest, and fairyland was realized
+before his eyes, his face beamed with pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This <i>is</i> ripping, Acton. Isn't Katrina lovely? Jove! I'd hunt for
+Raffles every blessed night if there was a 'Kingdom' to finish up with!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His enthusiasm amused Acton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is very pretty, Jack, certainly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For nearly an hour did Jack sit entranced, and when the orchestra
+crashed out the last floods of melody in the <i>finale</i>, and when most of
+the audience rose to go, he trotted out with Acton in a dream.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll have a little supper at Frascati's, young 'un, and then home.&quot;</p>
+<br />
+
+<p>Frascati's completed the enchantment of Bourne. The beauty of the
+supper-room, the glitter of snowy linen, of mirrors, and the inviting
+crash of knives, and the clink of glasses, the busy orderliness of the
+waiters, the laughter, chatter of the visitors, the scents, the sights
+and sounds, fascinated him. Acton ordered a modest little supper, and
+when Jack had finally pushed away his plate Acton paid the bill, and
+went out to find the driver. He was there, the horse almost waltzing
+with impatience to be off. The two swung themselves up, and in another
+minute they were whirling along back to St. Amory's.</p>
+
+<p>The St. Amory's clock could be heard striking the half hour after one
+when Jack and Acton parted at the corner of Corker's garden.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack,&quot; said Acton, &quot;good night! and you need not trouble about the &pound;7.
+You've done more for me than that, and I shall not forget it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack, almost weeping with gratitude, said, &quot;Good night, Acton!&quot; in a
+fervent whisper, and scuttled over Corker's flower-beds. He pushed up
+his window and crawled through, and, seeing that all was as he had left
+it after supper, he undressed and jumped into bed, and in a few minutes
+slept the sleep of the just.</p>
+
+<p>Acton had managed his re-entrance just as successfully&mdash;did he ever
+fail?&mdash;and the thought of Bourne's hopeless rage, when he should find
+out about Jack's escapade, made him sleep the sleep of the happy man. He
+was made that way.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-9"><!-- Image 9 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 40%;">
+<a href="images/009.jpg">
+<img src="images/009.jpg" width="100%"
+alt="He Pushed Up His Window And Crawled Through" border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+He Pushed Up His Window And Crawled Through.</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XXII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PENFOLD TABLET FUND</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>The Easter term had been one of unadulterated discomfort for Jim Cotton.
+He had felt the loss of Gus's helping hand terribly, and he had not yet
+found another ass to &quot;devil&quot; for him in the way of classics or
+mathematics. Philips, a former understudy to Gus, was called upon, but
+with unsatisfactory results, and Cotton, <i>mirabile dictu</i>, was compelled
+in sheer desperation to try to do his own work. Frankly, the Fifth of
+St. Amory's was beyond Jim's very small attainments, classical or
+otherwise. He had been hoisted up to that serene height by no means
+<i>honoris causa</i>, but <i>aetatis causa</i>. Jim was verging on six feet, and
+he filled his clothes very well into the bargain, and though his
+scholarship was strictly junior school, the spectacle of Jim in Fourth
+Form Etons would have been too entrancing a sight for daily
+contemplation. Hence he had got his remove. Thrown over by Gus, unable
+to discover a second jackal for the term so far, he had been left to the
+tender mercy of Corker, Merishall and Co., and Jim was inclined to think
+that they showed no quarter to a fallen foe. Corker had been distilled
+venom on the particular morning with which this chapter deals on the
+subject of Jim's Greek. Herodotus, as translated by Jim with the help of
+a well-thumbed Bohn's crib, had emerged as a most unalluring mess of
+pottage, and Dr. Moore had picked out Bohn's plums from Jim's paste with
+unerring accuracy. Whilst Cotton was wishing the roof would fall down on
+Corker's head and kill him, the other fellows in the Fifth were enjoying
+the fun. Gus Todd, though, felt for his old friend more than a touch of
+pity, and when old Corker left Jim alone finally, Gus very cleverly kept
+his attention away from Jim's quarter. When Corker finally drew his toga
+around him and hurried out, Jim Cotton gathered together his own books
+and lounged heavily into the street, sick of school, books, Corker, and
+hating Gus with a mighty sullen hate. For Jim had remarked Gus's
+sprightliness in the Greek ordeal, but was not clever enough to see that
+Gus's performance had been only for old friendship's sake. Jim, however,
+put down Todd's device as mere &quot;side,&quot; &quot;show-off,&quot; &quot;toadyism,&quot; and other
+choice things, all trotted out specially for his eyes. When he reached
+his room he flung his Herodotus into the nearest chair, and himself into
+the most comfortable one, and then beat a vicious serenade on his
+firegrate with the poker until dinner time.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, while Jim was moodily planted before a small pile of
+books, he received a visitor, no less a personage than Philips, Jim's
+occasional hack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; said Jim, surlily, &quot;what do you want?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll tell you in a minute, old boy. Can I have a chair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't you see I'm busy?&quot; said Cotton, unamiably.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You look like it, more or less, certainly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I've no time for any oratory to-night, Philips, and that is all
+about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll give you a leg-up for Merishall in the morning if you're decently
+civil.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right, then,&quot; said Jim, thawing instantly. &quot;What's the matter?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ever heard of Penfold?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; what was the animal?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, he was the brightest and most particular star that Taylor ever
+had in his house; that is, until you pitched your tent among us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't rot, Philips. What has the Penfold done?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Made a chemical discovery which stamps him as one of the first
+half-dozen chemists in the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh,&quot; said Jim, wearily; &quot;most interestin', very.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here only ten years ago, and, 'pon honour, this was his very den.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have noticed the place to be stuffy,&quot; said Jim, with no enthusiasm,
+&quot;and now that is explained. Suppose he lived with his nose in books and
+test-tubes?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And,&quot; said Philips, ignoring Jim's heavy wit, &quot;the Fifth and Sixth Form
+fellows in Taylor's think we ought to take notice of it somehow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, I wouldn't,&quot; said Cotton, critically; &quot;I'd keep a thing like that
+dark.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You heathen!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If he'd pulled stroke at Cambridge, or anything like that&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We thought a tablet on the wall, or something of that sort, would meet
+the case. Corker's dining-hall is lined with 'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get to the point,&quot; said Jim, grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A sub. of five shillings among seniors, and half a crown among the
+kids, would meet the case, I think.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And did you think I'd spring a crown for a marble tablet to a mug like
+Penfold?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather,&quot; said Philips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; said Jim, &quot;life would be worth living here if it weren't for the
+unearthly smugging, but as it is St. Amory's is about as lively as a
+workhouse. I'm not forking out on this occasion. Taylor's smugs must do
+all that is necessary to be done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; said Philips, &quot;all the other fellows have given in their names,
+bar you and Todd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh!&quot; said Jim, with sudden interest, &quot;you've asked Todd, have you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course. Gus seemed rather waxy that he should be called upon. One
+might almost fancy he hadn't got the five shillings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Todd evidently is a miserable miser,&quot; said Jim, with a bitter smile at
+the thought of Gus's insolvent condition. &quot;He isn't the same fellow he
+used to be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jove, no!&quot; said Philips; &quot;he's come on no end this term. He's an
+improvement on the old Gus.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Jim, angrily; &quot;the beaks have got him into their nets. But
+he ought to subscribe to the Penfold, when he's the biggest smug in
+Taylor's.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you ought too, Jim, since you've the biggest money-bags.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right,&quot; said Jim, &quot;I'll subscribe. 'Twill look better if we all
+subscribe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You're a funny ass, Cotton. I thought I was going to draw you blank.
+What's the reason for your sudden change of mind?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't want to be bracketed equal with Toddy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's settled, then,&quot; said Philips, who was puzzled at Jim's sudden
+change of front. &quot;And now let's see to Merishall's work for the
+morning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The subscriptions for a tablet in the great Penfold's honour were not
+hard to obtain, the upper form fellows in Taylor's dunning the rest of
+the house without mercy, and, to the great wonder of all, the foremost
+of the duns was James Cotton, Esq. The way he squeezed half-crowns out
+of the fags was reckoned little short of marvellous, and before the week
+was out every Taylor fellow had subscribed bar Gus. Jim's exertions were
+rewarded by the office of secretary to the Penfold Fund.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll get a house list, Philips, and pin up a proper subscription list
+on the notice-board. The thing will look more ship-shape then. By the
+way, what was it the Penfold did? Is he dead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are a funny fellow, Cotton. Here you are sweating the half-crowns
+out of the fags and you don't know why you're doing it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is just what I do know,&quot; said Jim, smiling serenely.</p>
+
+<p>When the list was pinned up on the board, and opposite each fellow's
+name appeared the half-crown or crown he had contributed, it made a
+brave show. Towards the end of the list opposite the name of Todd,
+A.V.R., there had occurred a dismal blank thoughtfully filled by
+secretary Cotton with a couple of beautifully even lines ruled in
+staring red ink. This vivid dash of colour on the white paper gave poor
+Gus quite an unsolicited advertisement, and since none of the other
+fellows knew of Gus's circumstances, it practically put him in the
+pillory as a tight-fisted old screw. This result was exactly what Jim
+Cotton had in his mind when he fell in with the tablet scheme so
+enthusiastically. Pretty mean, wasn't it?</p>
+
+<p>When Gus saw the staring red abomination for the first time it made him
+feel that he would like to pour a little boiling oil over the secretary
+of the fund, for to a fellow of Gus's temperament the chaffing remarks
+of his acquaintances and the knowing looks of the juniors made him
+shiver with righteous anger. He did not like being pilloried. He had
+desperate thoughts of going and publicly kicking Cotton, but he
+remembered, fortunately, that Jim would probably only make one mouthful
+of him. But he paced his room angrily, and except that he really meant
+to keep himself to his resolution of honourable poverty to the term's
+end he would have written home. Not to do so cost him a struggle.</p>
+
+<p>There was some one else who eyed this plain manifesto of Gus's position
+with anger, and that was the Rev. E. Taylor himself. The house-master
+had not been a house-master for years for nothing, and he guessed pretty
+shrewdly that some one was writing off a debt with interest against Gus.
+The house-master made a still shrewder guess as to who this might be,
+for he had watched the dissolution of the partnership of Cotton and Todd
+with great interest.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it was that Philips was called into Taylor's room for a quiet
+little chat on house matters. &quot;Your idea of a memento to Penfold was an
+excellent one, Philips, and the house seems to have taken it up very
+heartily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh yes!&quot; said Philips, na&iuml;vely. &quot;The fellows have taken any amount of
+interest, especially Cotton.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cotton's is rather a case of Saul among the prophets, isn't it,
+Philips?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This sort of thing didn't quite seem his line before, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; I never thought so myself; but it is very pleasant to make a
+mistake, too. I see Todd, who is the best chemist in the house, does not
+subscribe at all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Most of the fellows thought it rather strange.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And said so, no doubt?&quot; said the master, looking abstractedly at his
+finger-nails. </p>
+
+<p>&quot;H'm!&quot; said Philips, feeling uncomfortable at this thrust. &quot;They may
+have.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see, Philips,&quot; said Taylor, gently, &quot;there ought to have been no
+quizzing of Todd, for a contribution to a matter like this ought to be
+entirely voluntary&mdash;most emphatically so, I think. And if Todd does not
+see his way to subscribe&mdash;and he is the sole judge&mdash;there ought to be no
+remarks whatever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see, sir,&quot; said Philips, dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was much annoyed to see that Todd's name has been prominently before
+the house for the last day or so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean on the notice-board, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; I can quite see why it is. The honorary secretary has not had much
+experience in this clerical work before, so he has fallen into a great
+mistake. In fact,&quot; said the house-master, bluntly, &quot;the secretary's
+taste is not to be depended on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't think Cotton meant anything&mdash;&mdash;&quot; began Philips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, perhaps not,&quot; said the Rev. E. Taylor, doubtfully; &quot;but, in any
+case, will you take down the present list, and draw up a fresh one&mdash;if
+you think one at all necessary&mdash;with only the names of subscribers upon
+it? A house list should not have been used at all. Please tell Cotton I
+said so, and I hope he will see the fairness of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Philips took down the offending list, and told Cotton the house-master's
+opinions. Jim Cotton had not very quick feelings, but contempt can
+pierce the shell of a tortoise, and as Philips innocently retailed the
+message, the secretary of the Penfold Tablet Fund knew there was one man
+who held him a cad.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XXIII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<h3>BOURNE <i>v.</i> ACTON</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Jack had gone to London with his patron on Thursday. On Saturday morning
+Acton went to Aldershot, carrying with him the hopes and good wishes of
+the whole of St. Amory's, and at night the school band had met him at
+the station. They (the band) struggled bravely&mdash;it was very windy&mdash;with
+&quot;See, the Conquering Hero comes!&quot; in front of the returned hero, who was
+&quot;chaired&quot; by frenzied Biffenites. The expected had happened. Acton had
+annihilated Rossal, Shrewsbury, and Harrow, and in the final had met the
+redoubtable Jarvis, from &quot;Henry's holy shade.&quot; The delightful news
+circulated round St. Amory's that Acton had &quot;made mincemeat&quot; of Jarvis.
+He had not, but after a close battle had scrambled home first; he had
+won, and that was the main thing.</p>
+
+<p>As Acton walked into chapel on Sunday morning with Worcester, Corker got
+scant attention to his sermon; the fags to a man were thinking of
+Acton's terrible left. The gladiator lived in an atmosphere of incense
+for a whole day.</p>
+
+<p>As Phil Bourne was finishing breakfast on Monday morning his fag
+brought him his letters, and, after reading his usual one from home, he
+turned his attention to another one, whose envelope was dirty, and whose
+writing was laboriously and painfully bad amateur work.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rotherhithe,&quot; said Phil, looking at the post-mark. &quot;Who are my friends
+from that beauty spot?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I give the letter in all its fascinating simplicity.</p>
+
+<div style="margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;">
+<p style="margin-left: 70%;">&quot;Rotherhithe, Sunday.</p>
+<p>&quot;Dear Sir,</p>
+<p  style="text-indent: 2em;">&quot;I was sory as how I did not see you on thursday night when you
+came with Acting to Covent garden to do a small hedging in the
+linkinsheer handicap. I think since you did a fare settle about the
+gunn and pade up my little bill like a mann you would deserve the show
+at the &quot;Kindumm&quot; and the blow out at that swell tuck shop as Mister
+Acting said he was going to treat you to for coming with him to london.
+I hopes you enjoyed em and As how that stiff necked old corker your
+beak&mdash;won't never find out.</p>
+<p  style="text-indent: 2em;">&quot;As you gave him the Propper slip and no Errer your beastly Chummy</p>
+<p  style="text-indent: 10em;">&quot;Daniel Raffles.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The letter had evidently been meant for Jack, but had naturally reached
+Phil, since the envelope was directed to &quot;Mr. Bourne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bourne, when he had struggled to the end of this literary gem, dropped
+the letter like a red-hot coal. Was it a hoax, or had Jack really gone
+up to town, as the letter said?</p>
+
+<p>The &quot;Mister Acting&quot; made Phil's heart sink with dire forebodings.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go and find young Bourne, Hinton, and tell him to come here to my study
+at once, or as soon as he's finished breakfast.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack came in whistling a jolly tune; he was in full bloom, for had he
+not now left all his cares behind him?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You can cut, Hinton; and, Jack, take a chair and give me an explanation
+of this letter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack read Raffles' letter through to the bitter end, and wished he had
+never been born. Phil eyed his young brother, who had turned deathly
+white, with the horrible certainty that Jack had gone up to London.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then it's true?&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack, I know you could speak the truth once. Look at me. Did you go to
+London on Thursday night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Jack, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did Acton take you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You know that if Dr. Moore hears of it he will expel you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You went to oblige Acton?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you ever think what pater would think if he heard about this?&quot;</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-10"><!-- Image 10 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 55%;">
+<a href="images/010.jpg">
+<img src="images/010.jpg" width="100%"
+alt="&quot;Cut, You Miserable Puppy!&quot;" border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+&quot;Cut, You Miserable Puppy!&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>Jack, as a matter of course, had thought many a time of what his father
+would think about the business, and when Phil in that level voice of his
+recalled him to this terrible point he broke down.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Phil, do not tell pater; he'd never forgive me! Nor Corker. Cut me into
+ribbons if you like, only don't let me be expelled.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here,&quot; said Phil, &quot;I don't want any snivelling in my room. Cut, you
+miserable puppy, to your own quarters, and when school is over keep to
+them till I come. You're a contemptible little puppy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack hurried out, crunching Raffles' letter in his fist. He went
+straight to Acton's room, and, bursting in whilst Acton was drinking his
+last cup of coffee, blurted out the dismal news. Jack was almost
+hysterical in his rage against Raffles.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Acton, I believe that filthy blackmailer meant Phil to get that letter:
+he wanted to round on me and get me into trouble. Oh!&quot; said Jack, in a
+very explosion of futile rage, &quot;if I could only pound his ugly face into
+a jelly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, perhaps you'll have that pleasure one day, Jack. I hope so,
+anyhow. Now, straight, Jack, you need not be frightened of your brother
+saying a word. He could never risk Corker hearing of it, for he could
+not bear the chance of expulsion, so he'll lie low as far as Corker is
+concerned, take my word for it. He may hand you over to your father, but
+that, too, I doubt. He may give you a thrashing himself, which I fancy
+he will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't mind that,&quot; said Jack. &quot;I deserve something.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, you don't, old man; and I'm fearfully sorry that I've got you into
+this hole. But your brother will certainly interview me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I suppose so,&quot; said Jack, thoughtfully, even in his rage and shame. &quot;I
+hope there is no row between you;&quot; for the idea of an open quarrel
+between Phil and Acton made Jack rather qualmish.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You'd better cut now, Jack, and lie low till you find out when the
+hurricane is going to commence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack went away, and as the door closed softly behind him Acton smiled
+sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, Raffles has managed it nicely, and carried out my orders to the
+strokings of the t's. He is quite a genius in a low kind of way. And now
+I'm ready for Philip Bourne, Esq. I bet I'm a sight more comfortable
+than he is.&quot; Which was very true.</p>
+
+<p>I, of course, knew nothing of all these occurrences at the time, and the
+first intimation I had that anything was wrong was when Phil Bourne came
+into my room and gave me a plain unvarnished account, <i>sans</i> comment, of
+Acton's and young Bourne's foolery in London.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm awfully glad, old man, that I am able to tell you this, because,
+although you're Captain of the school, you can't do anything, since
+Acton is a monitor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>(It is an unwritten law at St. Amory's that one monitor can never, under
+any circumstances, &quot;peach&quot; upon another.)</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I'm jolly glad too, Bourne, since your brother's in it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What has to be done to Acton? Jack, of course, was only a tool in his
+hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, of course. It is perfectly certain that our friend engineered the
+whole business up to and including the letter, which <i>was</i> meant for
+you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you really think that?&quot; said Phil.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm as certain of it as I can be of anything that I don't actually know
+to be true.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why did he do it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you feel anything about this, old man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I feel in the bluest funk that I can remember.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, that's why.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see, I cannot put my ringer on the brute.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He has you in a cleft stick. Who knows that better than Acton?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm going to thrash Jack, the little idiot. I distinctly told him to
+give Acton a wide berth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack, of course, is an idiot; but Acton is the fellow that wants the
+thrashing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Phil pondered over this for fully five minutes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You're right, old man, and I'll give&mdash;I'll try to give&mdash;him the
+thrashing he deserves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Big biz,&quot; said I. &quot;You say you aren't as good as Hodgson; Hodgson isn't
+in the same street as Acton; <i>ergo</i>, you aren't in the same parish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's your beastly logic, Carr. Does a good cause count for nothing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not for much, when you're dealing with sharps.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see <i>you've</i> inherited your pater's law books. The school goes home
+to-morrow, doesn't it? Well, my Lord Chief Justice, in what relation do
+you stand towards the school to-morrow? Are you Captain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; said I, in my best legal manner. &quot;There is no school
+to-morrow&mdash;<i>ergo</i>, there cannot be a captain of a non-existent thing.
+To-morrow is a <i>dies non</i> as far as I'm concerned. Why this thirst for
+knowledge, Phil?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because I want you to be my second against Acton, and I didn't want
+your captaincy to aid or abet me in a thing which is against rules.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see,&quot; said I, warmly, &quot;and I will sink the rules and all the rest,
+and trust to a little rough justice being done on an arrant scamp.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thanks,&quot; said Phil. &quot;With you as second and a good cause, I ought to
+teach Acton a little genuine lesson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'd rather trust in a good straight left.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right, then. I'll see Acton now, and bring him to the point.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do, and let me have the result.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Phil swung off in that cool, level-headed fashion which is peculiarly
+his own. He had thought the matter out thoroughly in that five minutes'
+brown study, and now that he had put his hand to the plough he would not
+look back. I liked the set shoulders and his even step down the
+corridor. Surely something must reach Acton now! He walked down the
+street, turned in at Biffen's yard, and mounted up to Acton's room. He
+knocked firmly on the partly open door, and when he heard Acton's &quot;Come
+in,&quot; walked solidly in.</p>
+
+<p>Acton smiled amiably when he saw his visitor, and, with his half-foreign
+politeness, drew out a chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, thanks,&quot; said Phil, icily; &quot;but, if you've no objection, I'd like
+to close your door. May I?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By all means.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My opinion of you, Acton&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why trouble about that, Bourne; I know it.&quot;.</p>
+
+<p>&mdash;&mdash;&quot;is that you're an unmitigated cad.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gently, friend, gently,&quot; said Acton, half getting up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You, by your foul play, have disfigured poor Aspinall for life&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bourne, you're a monomaniac on that subject. I've had the pleasure of
+telling you once before that you were a liar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you did not get your 'footer' cap for it, which seems such a paltry
+punishment for so villainous a crime.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is stale, stale,&quot; said Acton, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You entice my brother to London, which means expulsion for him if it is
+found out by Dr. Moore.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe that's the rule.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The expulsion of Jack would bring disgrace on an honest name in the
+school and give pain to an honest gentleman&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The pity o' 't,&quot; said Acton, with a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And so, since you, by a kind of malicious fate, seem to escape all
+proper punishment&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You should be a parson, Bourne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm going to try to give you your deserts myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An avenging angel. Oh, ye gods!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you mind turning out at the old milling ground at seven sharp
+to-morrow morning?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The mornings are chilly,&quot; said Acton, with a snigger. &quot;Besides, I
+don't really see what pressing obligation I'm under to turn out at that
+time for the poor pleasure of knocking you down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I never thought you were a coward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How charitable!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we must bring you to book somehow. Will you fight&mdash;now?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Before he had time to avoid the blow Phil had struck him lightly on the
+face. For one half second a veritable devil peeped out of Acton's eyes
+as he sprung at Phil. But Phil quickly backed, and said coolly, &quot;No&mdash;no,
+sir! Let us do the thing decently and in order. You can try to do all
+you wish to-morrow morning very much at your ease. I apologize for
+striking you in your own room, but necessity, you know&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bourne, you'll regret that blow!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never,&quot; said Phil, emphatically, and with cutting contempt. &quot;I have
+asked Carr to second me. I dare say Vercoe would do the same for you. He
+has the merit of being a perfectly straightforward fellow, and since he
+does not go home like the rest to-morrow&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thanks. Vercoe will do excellently. He is a friend of yours, too!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm glad to say he is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, you may now be pretty certain there will be no foul play,
+whatever else may follow. I'll teach you wisdom on your front teeth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I dare say,&quot; said Phil, as he coolly stalked out, and left Acton curled
+up on his chair, like a cobra balancing for its stroke.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XXIV"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<h3>A RENEWED FRIENDSHIP</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>One morning Gus was much astonished to receive a letter containing a
+blank sheet of notepaper enfolding a postal order for &pound;1. This was
+properly filled in, payable to A.V.R. Todd at St. Amory's Post-office,
+but there was not the slightest clue as to the sender. Gus looked at the
+blue and white slip in an ecstasy of astonishment. Now, Gus knew that no
+one was aware of his bankrupt exchequer save Cotton, and he knew that
+Jim was not likely to have said anything about it for one or two very
+good reasons, and would now keep it darker than ever. If it were known
+that Gus had been practically pilloried for being penniless by the
+fellow who had lifted his cash, Cotton would have heard a few fancy
+remarks on his own conduct which would have made his ears tingle. Gus
+pondered over this problem of the sender until he felt giddy, but he
+finally came to the conclusion that Cotton had regretted his polite
+attentions to an old friend, and had sent the order as a kind of <i>amende
+honorable</i>. Gus instantly regretted the fervent wishes about the boiling
+oil and the public kicking for Jim Cotton, and he also determined to go
+and thank his old patron for what he was sure was his anonymous gift.</p>
+
+<p>So, after breakfast, he cashed the order and, with pockets heavier with
+coin than they had been for some time, he went to Jim Cotton's room. Jim
+received him with an odd mixture of anger and shame, and when Gus handed
+over to him two half-crowns, Cotton in some confusion, told him to hand
+them over to Philips, who had initiated the subscription for the Penfold
+tablet.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thought you were the secretary?&quot; said Gus.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No! I'm out of the boat now. Philips is the man,&quot; said Cotton, sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And, by the way, Jim, it wasn't half bad of you to send me that order.
+It was no end brickish, especially after I had left you more or less in
+the lurch.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What order?&quot; said Jim, looking curiously at Gus.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's the good of trying to pass it off like that, old man? It could
+only be you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know what you're driving at. You seem to be talking rot,&quot; said
+Cotton, angrily, for he fancied that Gus was fooling him in some way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I've got an order for &pound;1 this morning, envelope stamped St.
+Amory, and it could only come from some one who knew I was stumped, and
+you're the only fellow who knew that, unless, indeed, you've been kind
+enough to tell some of the fellows.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've told no one; and anyway, I didn't send the order.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, rot!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thanks! I don't tell lies as a rule, and I say I know nothing whatever
+about your order. I think you'd better cut now, instead of wasting my
+time with this rotten foolery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You didn't send it?&quot; said Gus, finally, with more than a dash of
+irritation in his voice at the continued boorishness of Cotton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I tell you! Shall I get a foghorn and let you have it that way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, look here, Cotton. If you didn't send it, your underscoring of my
+name on the house list because I couldn't subscribe was the act of an
+arrant cad.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Cotton winced at Gus's concise definition, but he said, &quot;Oh, get out,
+you fool!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fool, or not,&quot; said Gus, becoming more angry every moment as he thought
+of his wrongs, &quot;I'm not an underbred loafer who cleans a fellow out of
+his cash and then rounds on him because he can't pay his way. Why, a
+Whitechapel guttersnipe&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't appreciate the allusion,&quot; said Jim; &quot;I've never been to
+Whitechapel. But anyhow, Todd, there's the door. I think you had really
+better go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not till I've said you're the biggest bounder in St. Amory's.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now you've said it you really must go, or I'll throw you out!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Gus was too taken up with his own passion to notice that Cotton was also
+at about the limit of his patience, and that Jim's lips had set into a
+grim and ugly sneer. Todd was furiously trying to find some clinching
+expression which would quite define Jim's conduct, when that gentleman
+took one stride forward and caught him by the collar. The grip, the very
+touch of Cotton's fingers maddened Gus beyond all bearing. His anger
+broke loose from all control; he wrenched himself out of Cotton's grasp
+and passionately struck him on the mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Cotton turned grey with passion as bitter as Todd's and repaid Gus's
+blow with interest. Gus dropped to the floor, bleeding villainously.
+Cotton thereupon jerked him to his feet, and threw him out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Gus picked himself up from the corridor floor and went to his own room,
+his face as white as a sheet and his heart as black as ink. What Gus
+suffered from his passion, his shame, his hatred, and the pain of his
+old friend's blow, for the next few hours words will not tell. He
+attended morning school, his head in a whirl of thought. Cotton was
+there too, and, could looks have killed, Jim Cotton would not have been
+in the land of the living for very long. When Merishall went, Gus waited
+until all the form had filed out, and, still dizzy and sick, he wearily
+followed suit and turned in at his own door. As Gus came into the room
+some one rose up and faced round to meet him, and Todd found himself
+once more face to face with Cotton.</p>
+
+<p>Now, the blow which had tumbled down Gus so heartily had, so to speak,
+tumbled down the striker in his own mind just as thoroughly. Jim
+Cotton's mind was not a subtle one, but the minute after he had floored
+Gus and shut the door on him, his better mind told him distinctly that
+he was a cad. Why? Because when he struck Gus the feeling was as though
+he had struck a cripple. Gus had doubled up under the weight of his hand
+as though he had been a leaf. Cotton dimly felt that for a fellow of his
+build and weight to let Gus have the full benefit of both was not fair.
+&quot;That is how it must feel, I suppose, to strike a girl. My fist seems
+unclean,&quot; he said, in huge disgust. &quot;I'd give Todd his three sovs. back
+if I could recall that blow. I wish I'd left the fool alone, and anyhow,
+it's my opinion I don't shine much in our little squabble. Todd has been
+playing the man since his Perry cropper, and I've been playing the cad
+just because he was once useful to me and I did not want to let him go.&quot;
+Cotton devoted the next few hours to a little honest unselfish thinking,
+and the result was that he came pretty near to despising himself. &quot;I'll
+go and apologize to Gus, and if he shies the poker at my head I'm hanged
+if I dodge it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>That is why Gus was received in his own room by the fellow who had so
+lately knocked him down. Gus stared at Jim, his swollen lip trembling
+with anger and his eyes blazing with indignation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I say, Gus, old man, I am an utter out-and-out cad, and I've come to
+apologize.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Gus murmured something indistinctly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When I knocked you down I did the most blackguardly thing that even I
+have ever done, and, you may believe me or not, I am now about disgusted
+with myself. I felt that there was only one thing that I could do, and
+that was to apologize.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jim was so obviously cut up by remorse that Gus thereupon buried the
+hatchet. He did not throw the poker at Jim's head, and you may be
+surprised to hear&mdash;or you may not&mdash;that Gus and Jim Cotton took their
+after-dinner coffee at Hooper's, as in the old time. The conversation
+was <i>staccato</i> at first, but interesting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But who sent the order?&quot; said Gus.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Dunno, really; but I could almost bet my boots that Taylor is the
+criminal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Taylor! What does he know of my affairs?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, that beastly house list with your red raw agony column made him
+most suspicious, and I believe he knows to a hair exactly how big a cad
+I've been.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go on, old man; leave that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He sucked Philips dry about the Penfold tombstone, and although he said
+nothing to me personally, Philips gave me to understand that I'm not in
+favour with the parson. Taylor is the man who's provided your sub. for
+the Penfold, take my word for it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's not half such a bad fellow, Jim.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; said Jim, with an uneasy laugh; &quot;Taylor's all right, but he'll
+make me squirm when he has the chance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The friendship of Cotton and Todd was thus renewed and cemented&mdash;with
+Gus's bluest blood. Gus gave Jim some good advice about the schools,
+which made Jim feel a bit dubious.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Chuck your Bohn's cribs and your keys under the grate, and show up
+your own work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Footle, you mean, Gus.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right, footle, then. I know all our own private personal beaks
+would rather have a fellow's own work, if of fair quality, than all the
+weirdest screeds from any crib whatsoever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jim made the experiment, very gingerly, be it said, but did show up his
+own work, and from Corker to Merishall all the beaks were civil to him.
+Gus's reputation as a prophet was established, for Corker himself seemed
+pleased with the Cottonian version of Herodotus.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather rough in parts, Cotton,&quot; said the old man, beaming on the
+shrinking Jim; &quot;but at least you've not been ploughing Herodotus with
+the help of your old ass, Bohn.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jim's effort, however, came too late to affect in any degree his
+position in the Fifth. When the lists of the Easter term were published,
+Cotton was the last, deservedly, of the form, but A.V.R. Todd was the
+seventh. This was an eye-opener to many in the form, but the result sent
+Gus into the seventh heaven of delight. Taylor came specially into
+Todd's modest sanctum to congratulate him, and Corker sent an extra
+special letter to Todd senior, saying all manner of sweet things about
+Gus. He put the highest mark of his favour upon the delighted Gus by
+asking him to dinner&mdash;a very great honour, but a dreadful ordeal. Gus
+was wonderfully nervous as he commenced his soup. How do I know? Well, I
+had been asked, I believe, to give the bewildered Gus a little
+countenance. Gus went home, a day or two later, to the bosom of his
+family, where he was treated with the utmost honour. He redeemed the
+watch from the jeweller, and fulfilled his own promise to that worthy
+man. All through the holidays he basked in the smiles of his proud
+father, and rode that gentleman's pedigree hack. Corker's highest mark
+of appreciation was to give you a dinner; with Gus's father it was to
+let you ride his own horse.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XXV"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<h3>A LITTLE ROUGH JUSTICE</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Quietly and without any fuss the few details were arranged, and next
+morning four of us filtered down to the old milling ground, on whose
+green sod so many wrongs had been righted in the old times, and where I
+sincerely hoped Phil would yet redress, however imperfectly, another.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, we all know fisticuffs are not what they were; for every
+strenuous mill of to-day there used to be fifty in the old days, and the
+green turf which formerly was the scene of terrific combats between
+fellows of the Upper School now only quaked under the martial hoof of,
+say, Rogers, the prize fag of Biffen's, and Poulett, the champion egg
+poacher of Corker's, and other humble followers of the &quot;fancy.&quot; Milling
+as an institution in the schools may write up &quot;Ichabod&quot; above its gates.</p>
+
+<p>I tossed with Vercoe for corners, and when I won, I chose the favourite
+corner, the one King had when he fought Sellers with a broken wrist, and
+beat him, too; which Cooper had when he stood up to Miller for one whole
+half-holiday, and though beaten three or four times over, never knew it,
+and won in the end, which mills and the causes thereof, if some one
+would write about them, would make capital reading. Anyhow, it is a
+lucky corner, from the legends connected with it, and I thought we
+should need any luck that might be knocking about so early in the
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>Phil was as cool and calm as though he were going to gently tund a small
+fag for shirking. Acton was outwardly calm, but inwardly seething with
+hate, rage, and blood-thirstiness. His proud soul lusted for the
+opportunity to repay the flick on the face he had received from Phil,
+with interest. I watched the sparkling fire in his eye, the unaffected
+eagerness for the fray in his pose, and thought that even Acton had not
+quite the skill to cater for such a large and lusty appetite. Vercoe and
+I set our watches, and agreed to call time together, and then we moved
+each to our corner. Phil peeled as quietly as though he were going to
+bed, Acton with feverish haste, which perhaps was his foreign blood
+working out; beside Acton's swift, impulsive movements Phil's leisurely
+arrangements seemed sluggish indeed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Time!&quot; said Vercoe and I in chorus, and I added in an undertone to my
+man, &quot;Go in and win.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was obvious from the start that Phil was not as good a man as Acton
+as far as skill was concerned, but when it came to well-knit strength
+there was no doubt that Phil had the pull. Acton's eagerness was a
+disadvantage against one so cool as Bourne. In the very first round,
+Acton, in his overwhelming desire to knock Phil out in as short a space
+as possible, neglected every ordinary precaution, and, after a spirited
+rally, Phil broke through Acton's slovenly guard, and sent him spinning
+into Vercoe's arms. We called time together, and to my intense
+satisfaction the first round resulted in our favour.</p>
+
+<p>After that, thoroughly steadied by Phil's gentle reminder, Acton dropped
+all looseness, and began to treat Phil with the greatest respect, never
+taking any risks, but working in a scientific fashion, which poor Phil
+found hard enough to parry, and when he could not do that, hard enough
+to bear. But he never faltered; he took all that Acton could give him in
+imperturbable good temper, working in his dogged fashion as though he
+were absolutely confident of winning in the long run, and as
+disregarding present inconveniences because they were expected, and
+because the ultimate reward would repay all a hundred-fold.</p>
+
+<p>There was also something else I noticed. Acton did not do so much damage
+as he ought to have done, and I found him constantly &quot;short,&quot; but when
+Phil did score there was the unmistakable ring of a telling blow. I was
+puzzled in my mind why Acton was so &quot;short,&quot; but I think now it was
+because he had never done anything but with gloves on, and fisticuffs,
+which were more or less familiar with Phil, were unknown to him. They
+don't fight, I believe, in France or Germany with Nature's weapons, but
+occasional turn-ups with the farmers' sons and the canal men had, of
+course, fallen to Phil's share.</p>
+
+<p>On each occasion that Phil got home, Acton answered with a vicious
+spurt which did not do much good, but only tired him, and at the end of
+the seventh round I was astonished to think that Phil had stood the
+racket so well. Phil's lips were puffy, and one eye was visibly
+swelling, and he had other minor marks of Acton's attention, but he was
+in excellent condition still. Acton was damaged above a bit, and Phil's
+first-round reminder showed plainly on his cheek.</p>
+
+<p>Acton began to think that unless he could make Phil dance to a quicker
+tune pretty soon, he himself would be limping round the corner of
+defeat, for he was very tired. When we called them up for the eighth
+round, he had evidently determined to force the fighting. Much as I
+disliked Acton, I could not but admire his splendid skill; he bottled up
+Phil time and again, feinted, ducked, rallied, swung out in the nick of
+time, planted hard telling blows, and was withal as hard to corner as a
+sunbeam. As I sponged Phil at the end of the eighth I felt that three
+more rounds as per last sample would shake even him, so I said, &quot;Try,
+old man, for one straight drive if he gives you a ghost of a chance.
+Don't try tapping.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton came up smiling; in a twinkling he had Phil at sea by his
+trickiness, and was scoring furiously. Then, for the first time, Phil
+backed, shortly and sharply. Acton sprang forward for victory, and a
+huge lunge should have given Phil his quietus, but it was dreadfully
+short, and stung rather than hurt. Phil recovered the next moment, and
+was on the watch again cool and cautious as ever. Then Acton, following
+an artless feint which drew Phil as easily as a child, ducked the blow
+and darted beneath his guard. I gave Phil up for lost. How it happened,
+though I was watching carefully, I cannot say, but Acton seemed to
+slither or stumble on the turf as he rushed in, and for one second he
+was at Phil's mercy.</p>
+
+<p>At that very instant Phil's arm flashed out, and with a blow which would
+have felled an ox, he caught Acton between the eyes. Acton dropped to
+the ground like a bludgeoned dog.</p>
+
+<p>Phil, like a gentleman, backed a yard or so away, waiting for Acton to
+get up again, but he made no sign. Vercoe and I then counted him out
+with all due formality, and Phil had won at the very moment he was about
+to be beaten. We did our best for Acton, who was unconscious, and, just
+when we began to despair of bringing him round, he opened his eyes with
+the usual vacant stare. In a minute he recovered his thoughts, and said
+eagerly, &quot;Then I've won.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not quite,&quot; said Vercoe, grimly. &quot;You've jolly well lost.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton tottered to his feet blind with rage&mdash;diabolic rage&mdash;but hate and
+fury couldn't give him strength to stand. Vercoe gently caught him, and
+laid him quietly on his back, and sponged his face where the awful force
+of Phil's blow was becoming plainer every moment.</p>
+
+<p>He compressed his lips with rage and pain, and looked at Phil with such
+a look of deadly hatred that Vercoe was disgusted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now come, Acton. You've fought well, and, by Jove! you ought to lose
+well. Bourne fought like a gentleman, and you've been beaten fairly.
+What is the good of bearing any malice?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look here, Acton,&quot; said Phil, &quot;I'm jolly glad I've thrashed you, but
+all is over now. Here's my hand, and we'll let bygones be bygones.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never!&quot; said Acton. &quot;I'll get even with you yet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So be it,&quot; said Bourne; and he turned away, and got into his coat,
+leaving Vercoe and Acton on the field of battle. &quot;Don't care to mention
+it, old man,&quot; he said to me as we got to his room, &quot;all the same, I
+thought I was a gone coon just when I knocked the fellow out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I went for my holidays that morning, and Acton, escorted by Vercoe, got
+into the same train. He was white and almost scared looking at his
+defeat, but there was on his face still that unfading expression of
+unsatisfied hate and lust for revenge. I buried my face in my paper in
+utter disgust.</p>
+
+<p>So you see Acton departed from St. Amory's at the beginning of the
+Easter holidays in a slightly different mood from that which he enjoyed
+at Christmas, when the young Biffenites had cheered him till they were
+hoarse and he was out of hearing.</p>
+
+<p>Toby was almost beside himself with consternation when Bourne and Vercoe
+turned up at the Courts in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your 'ands, Mr. Bourne, and your eye! What have you been a-doing of?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have had the painful necessity to thrash a cad, Toby.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you did thrash him, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I fancy so,&quot; said Bourne, grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Jack went home in the evening a sadder and wiser boy. When he saw his
+brother's closed eye and swollen lip, and the angry patches on his
+cheeks, he was cut to the heart; he took his thrashing like a man, and,
+when all was over, felt he loved and respected his brother more than
+ever. &quot;What a beastly little pig I've been,&quot; he said to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Vercoe and Bourne were the victorious finalists at Kensington in the
+rackets. It was, as the papers aptly remarked, &quot;Quite a coincidence that
+Bourne's right eye was beautifully and variously decorated in honour of
+the occasion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I don't expect many finalists, at rackets anyhow, turn up with black
+eyes.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XXVI"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MADNESS OF W.E. GRIM</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Grim and Wilson had come back to St. Amory's firmly convinced that
+Biffen's was the most glorious house that had ever existed, and that it
+would do&mdash;thanks to Acton, Worcester, and the dervishes&mdash;great things
+when the cricket housers came round.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Grimmy,&quot; said Wilson, &quot;you'll have to try to get into the team this
+year. You would last, if your batting hadn't been so rotten.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right, old man; don't rub that in too often.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You put in a lot of extra practice at one of those bottom nets, Grimmy,
+and you'll find Worcester'll shove you in first choice, almost, this
+go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Serene. Shall we try to raise a bottle of cherries now,&quot; said Grim,
+lazily, lounging from net to net. &quot;It's heaps too soon to think of
+housers yet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You conceited ass, Grimmy! Not for you. Your batting is too awful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't worry now. Oceans of time, I tell you. We'll try some cherries,
+eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The pair strolled lazily off the field, and made several purchases in
+the preserved fruit line, and then adjourned to their common room for
+refreshment.</p>
+
+<p>But, as time went on, Grim did not fall in with Wilson's arrangements
+quite as enthusiastically as that single-hearted Biffenite would have
+liked him to. A fortnight passed, and Grim had only put in the
+regulation practice at the nets to Wilson's intense disgust, and the
+time that should have been devoted to extra cricket was &quot;wasted,&quot;
+according to that ardent Biffenite, in doing, of all things, needlessly
+elaborate translations for Merishall.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whatever is the good of getting the very word the beak wants, Grimmy. I
+always translate <i>Carmen</i>&mdash;a song. Does it matter a cherry-stone that it
+sometimes means a charm? What good does it do you, you idiot? It only
+means that Merishall is harder on us. Think of your friends, Grimmy, do.
+If I didn't know you were a bit cracked, I'd say your performance was
+undiluted 'smugging.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cork that frivol, do,&quot; said Grim, who was stretched full length on the
+grass and gazing skywards with a rapt expression in his eyes, &quot;and look
+over there. How beautiful it is!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How beautiful what is?&quot; asked Wilson, astonished.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The sunset, you ass!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't see anything special about it,&quot; said Wilson. &quot;An ordinary
+affair!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ordinary affair! Ugh, you idiot. Look at those lovely colours mingling
+one with another, those light fleecy clouds floating in a purple sea,
+that beautiful tint in the woods yonder, that&mdash;that&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Steady, Grim. Take time,&quot; said Wilson, squirming away from his chum.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wilson, you haven't any soul for beauty. A sunset is the loveliest
+sight on earth, you duffer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Didn't know a sunset ever was on earth,&quot; said Wilson, sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is that funny?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All serene, Grimmy,&quot; said Wilson, elaborately agreeing with his friend
+as a mother might with a sick child. &quot;Matter of fact, it is rather fine.
+Not unlike a Zingari blazer, eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Zingari blazer!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Exactly like. And that pink on the trees would do for the Westminster
+shirts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Blazers and shirts,&quot; cried Grim, in disgust. &quot;Oh! get out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's get in, Grimmy, instead. You'd better see the doctor. 'Pon
+honour, you aren't well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I can't help it,&quot; said W.E. Grim, resignedly, &quot;if you haven't any soul.
+Yes, I'll come. I've got Merishall's work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a coolness that night between the two friends as they sat at
+the opposite sides of their common table doing their work for Merishall,
+and Wilson was determined to find out what was disturbing their
+accustomed peace. He had soon done his modicum of prose and forthwith
+broached matters.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's have this business out, Grim. It will do you a lot of harm if you
+keep it in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The fact is&mdash;&mdash;&quot; began Grim, hesitating.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Allez! houp-la!&quot; said Wilson, encouragingly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm going in strong for poetry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For reply Wilson laughed as though his life depended on the effort, and
+Grim turned a rich rosy hue. Wilson finally blurted out&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Grim, you're an utter idiot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you think about it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought it would surprise you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It has, but nothing you do ever will again. Lord, Grimmy, was it for
+this you chucked cricket and your chance of the house eleven?&quot; Wilson
+exploded again, uproariously. &quot;I'll tell Rogers and Jack Bourne. You a
+poet!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why shouldn't I be, you silly cuckoo?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, you haven't got the cut of a poet, for one thing, and for another,
+I believe, next to your mother, the thing you like best in the world is
+a good dinner.&quot; Wilson waxed eloquent on Grim's defects from a poet's
+standpoint. &quot;Your hair is as stiff as any hair-brush; you can't deny
+you're short and a trifle beefy; and was ever a poet made out of your
+material and fighting weight?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That isn't criticism,&quot; said Grim, angrily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; said Wilson, bitterly. &quot;I don't pretend to that. They are a few
+surface observations only. Just tell this to Rogers or even Cherry, and
+watch 'em curl.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Wilson and Grim went to bed that night pretty cool towards each other,
+but in the morning Grim was obstinately bent on being the poet as he
+was the next week and the week after that. He wrestled with poetry
+morning, noon, and night, and he made himself a horrible nuisance to his
+old cronies. Wilson complained bitterly about their study being &quot;simply
+fizzing with poetry.&quot; Grim sprang a poem or a sonnet, or a tribute or
+some other forsaken variety of poetry, on pretty well everything about
+the place. He &quot;<i>did</i>&quot; the dawn and worked round to the sunset. He had a
+little shy at the church and the tombstones, and wrote about the horse
+pond's &quot;placid wave.&quot; He did four sonnets on the school, looking from
+north, south, east and west, and let himself go in fine style about the
+school captain's batting. He sent this to Phil, and Phil passed the
+disquisition on to me; it was very funny indeed. Not a single thing was
+safe from his poetry, and he cut what he could of cricket to write
+&quot;tributes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He had a lively time from his own particular knot of friends and
+enemies, and they jollied him to an extent that, perhaps, reached
+high-water mark, when Grim found one morning on his table a dozen
+thoughtful addresses of lunatic asylums, and specimens of the writing of
+mad people, culled from a popular magazine. But Grim recked not, and
+persevered. He turned out, as became a budding poet, weird screeds from
+Ovid, Virgil, and Horace&mdash;Bohn's cribs were simple to his tangled
+stuff&mdash;and Merishall beamed wreathed smiles upon him, and told him he
+was &quot;catching the spirit of the original.&quot; After this patent, distinct
+leg-up from Merishall, Grim took the bit between his teeth and went
+careering up and down the plains of poesy until the lights were cut
+off.</p>
+
+<p>Wilson bore with his chum for a month, and then finally delivered his
+ultimatum.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you're still a poet at midsummer, I'm going to cut, and dig with
+Rogers or Cherry. This den isn't big enough for you, me, and the
+'original spirits' you wing every night. I'm off to the nets. Coming?
+No? Jove! Grimmy, what nightmares you must take to bed with you every
+night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But the kindly Fates had the keeping of the chums' friendship in their
+safe keeping, and I haven't observed yet, that Grim and Wilson are less
+friendly than they used to be. This consummation is owing to Miss
+Varley. This young lady, <i>&aelig;tat</i> XIV, or thereabouts, was responsible for
+the reclamation of Grim. What the whole posse of his acquaintances with
+their blandishments and threats could not effect in the space of a
+month, she did within four and twenty hours. I cannot account for this,
+except on the supposition that little girls with long yellow hair and
+pretty brown eyes, and a perambulating blush, create mighty earthquakes
+in the breasts of rowdy fags. Miss Hilda Elsie Varley, being Biffen's
+niece, had taken the house under her protection, was more rabidly
+Biffenite than even Rogers, adored Acton, reverenced Worcester, and
+appreciated Chalmers, but despised fags who weren't &quot;training-on&quot; for
+one of her houses' various elevens. Her sentiments on these matters were
+mysteriously but accurately known amongst Biffenite juniors.</p>
+
+<p>Grim finally turned his poetical talents upon this young lady. I am not
+quite certain why he delayed so long. Perhaps he had waited until his
+gift of song had matured so that the offering might be worthy of the
+shrine, or perhaps because he had exhausted all other exalted subjects
+for his muse, but anyhow, he sent Miss Varley an ode on her birthday.
+This day was pretty generally known amongst Biffen's fags.</p>
+
+<p>When he had finished he read it to Wilson, who unbent from his
+antagonistic attitude towards poetry when he heard the subject of the
+verse.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;After all, Grimmy, it doesn't sound more rotten than Virgil, and it
+<i>is</i> rather swagger to say that Biffen's is to Hilda what Samnos was to
+Juno. It's a jolly lot more, though.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Grim had cheerfully compared Miss Hilda to the queenly Juno, and said
+that if she would give Biffen's her protection, the house would give the
+other houses &quot;fits&quot; when the housers came round again; then he put in
+something about her hair, unconsciously cribbed from Ovid; and something
+about her walk&mdash;this I tracked to Horace; and wound up the whole farrago
+by saying he was ready to be her door-mat and to shield her from the
+furies, <i>etc</i>., which, I think, Grim genuinely evolved out of his own
+effervescing breast. The ode was properly posted by the poet himself,
+and even Wilson felt genuinely interested in the result. As for Grim, he
+was so jolly anxious that he could not tackle any more poems, but
+divided his time between ices at Hooper's and loafing round the
+letter-rack for Hilda's answer.</p>
+
+<p>A day or so later Wilson was busy translating for Merishall&mdash;carefully
+putting &quot;songs&quot; whenever he spotted &quot;<i>carmina</i>&quot;&mdash;when he heard Grim
+flying upstairs, and when the poet had smashed into the room, he held up
+a letter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's come,&quot; he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Wilson laid down his pen and said, &quot;Wait till you're cool, and then read
+it out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This is the letter <i>in extenso</i>:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div style="margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;">
+<p style="margin-left: 60%;">&quot;Biffen's, Wednesday.</p>
+
+<p class="sc">&quot;Dear Grim,</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 2em;">&quot;I don't think you'll ever be a poet, at least not a great one. I
+believe I could give you the Latin for most of the lines you have
+written: they are so dreadfully like the translations of my
+school-books, and it isn't very flattering when one has to put up with
+second-hand compliments several thousand years old, is it? But I am very
+glad that you think my good opinion of any value to Biffen's, for I
+should dearly like to see our house top of the school this year, and how
+can it be when one, who ought to be in the House Eleven, gives up all
+his time to writing 'poetry' instead of playing cricket? I hope you will
+not be very vexed with me for writing this, but I know you would prefer
+me to be<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;Yours very sincerely,</span><br />
+<span class="sc" style="margin-left: 10em;">&quot;Hilda E. Varley.</span></p>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 2em;">&quot;P.S.&mdash;If I see you admiring the sunsets or the rose-bushes when you
+ought to be at the nets, I know I shall titter ... even if Miss Langton
+be with me.<br/>
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">&quot;H.E.V.&quot;</span></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Grim struggled through this to the bitter end. Wilson made the very roof
+echo with his howls of unqualified delight, but Grim's face was
+uncommonly like that sunset he admired so much.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is a sickener,&quot; he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jove! Grim, you've wanted one long enough,&quot; said Wilson, holding his
+aching sides.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Crumbs! One would think she was old enough to be my mother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's a way they have, when they're not feeling quite the thing. No
+wonder, poor girl.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look here, Wilson, keep this dark. I'm not going to write any more
+poetry. I've been thinking that, ever since I sent Hilda the ode. I
+don't think it's quite the real article.&quot;</p>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; said Wilson, consolingly; &quot;only original-spirit catching.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A lot you know about it, old man,&quot; said Grim, hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Granted, Grimmy; but Hilda twigged the fraud, quick enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I'm going to burn it all, right off.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They did. I believe I am doing Grim no injustice when I say he looks
+less a poet, and acts up to his looks, than any junior in St. Amory's.</p>
+
+<p>Two nights after the receipt of this fateful letter Grim was
+industriously practising Ranjitsinghi's famous glance at a snug, quiet
+net, when Miss Varley, accompanied by Miss Cornelia Langton, her
+governess, went past the nets. Miss Langton told Hilda afterwards that
+she ought not to speak to hard-working cricketers and distract them in
+their game. Hilda, I don't think, minded this little wigging, and Grim
+never went without a friendly nod as he turned from cutting Wilson into
+the nets, if Miss Hilda Elsie Varley went by.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XXVII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+
+<h3>CONCERNING TODD AND COTTON</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Knowing Acton's pride&mdash;his overwhelming pride&mdash;I never expected to see
+him back at St. Amory's. I expected that he would almost have moved
+heaven and earth and got himself taken off the school books and gone to
+complete his education somewhere else rather than come back to the old
+place where he had had such a signal thrashing. But, of course, he knew
+jolly well that we four had our tongues tied, and that the knowledge of
+his defeat was, so to speak, strictly private property; and that is why,
+I am pretty sure, he turned up again.</p>
+
+<p>He strolled up and down the High, arm-in-arm with Worcester, in high
+good humour, on the day we returned; but when I turned the corner and
+came upon him <i>vis-&agrave;-vis</i> he gave me a long, level, steady look of
+hatred, which told me that he had nursed his wrath to keep it warm. His
+look made me thoughtful. Young Jack Bourne, too, came sailing along&mdash;a
+breezy miniature copy of Phil, his brother&mdash;but when he caught sight of
+his former patron he blushed like a girl and scuttled into the first
+available yard.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-11"><!-- Image 11 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 55%;">
+<a href="images/011.jpg">
+<img src="images/011.jpg" width="100%"
+alt="He Gave Me A Long, Steady Look Of Hatred." border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+He Gave Me A Long, Steady Look Of Hatred.</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>He was not particularly anxious to meet Acton, for Phil, in the
+holidays, had given Jack a pretty correct inkling of Acton's character,
+and he began to see&mdash;in fact, he did see&mdash;that Raffles and the shooting
+and the billiards, and the hocus pocus of &quot;hedging on Grape Shot,&quot; and
+the trip to London, etc., was only one involved, elaborate plot to
+strike at Phil. Jack now fully realized that he had played a very
+innocent fly to Acton's consummate spider, and he now, when there wasn't
+any very pressing necessity, determined to give the spider's parlour a
+very wide berth indeed. Acton saw Jack's little manoeuvre, and smiled
+gently. He was genuinely fond of Jack, but young Bourne had served his
+purpose; and now, thought Acton, philosophically, &quot;Jack looks upon me as
+a monster of iniquity, and he won't cultivate my acquaintance.&quot; And
+Phil? Well, Phil regarded the incident as &quot;closed,&quot; and paid no heed to
+his enemy's bitter looks, but divided his attention between his books
+and cricket, keeping, perhaps unnecessarily, a bright outlook upon
+Master Jack.</p>
+
+<p>Todd had come back to St. Amory's in a very different frame of mind from
+that in which he had returned after the Perry fiasco. His three weeks'
+holiday had been no end enjoyable; and now, besides a coin or two in his
+pocket, he had a clean, crisp note in his purse. As he stepped out of
+the train at the station, the burly figure of Jim Cotton hove in sight,
+and an eleven-inch palm clapped Gus on the back.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hallo! old man. How goes it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh!&quot; said Gus, coughing; &quot;I'm all right, Jim, and your biceps seem in
+their usual working order.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They are, Gus. I've got a cab out here; we'll go on together.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather! I must find some one to see to the traps, though.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've commandeered young Grim,&quot; said Jim, &quot;and he'll see to them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Provident beggar! Here you are, Grim. Put mine into Taylor's cart, and
+here's a shilling for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Grim, who felt rather injured at being lagged by Cotton so early in the
+term, just at the moment, too, when he had caught sight of Wilson
+staggering along with a heavy hat-box, etc., seized Jim's and Gus's
+effects. Todd's modest <i>douceur</i>, however, took off the rough edge of
+his displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>After tea, Cotton and Todd strolled about, and finally came to anchor
+behind the nets, where some of the Sixth were already at practice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Phil Bourne's good for a hundred at Lord's,&quot; said Jim, critically,
+watching Phil's clean, crisp cutting with interest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's Acton out, too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Raw,&quot; said Jim. &quot;Biffen's beauty has never been taught to hold his bat,
+that is evident. Footer is more his line, I take it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you going to have a try for the eleven, Jim, this year?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll see how things shape. If Phil Bourne gives me the hint that I have
+a chance, I'll take it, of course.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will he give Acton the hint, think you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shouldn't say so,&quot; said Jim, as Acton's stumps waltzed out of the
+ground for the fourth time. &quot;He can't play slows for toffee.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rum affair about the footer cap,&quot; said Gus.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather so. But I believe Phil Bourne is as straight as a die. I'm not
+so sure of Acton, though. I fancy there's something to be explained
+about the cap. By the way, Gus, are you going to loaf about this term as
+usual? Taylor's house side really does want bigger fellows than it's
+got.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No!&quot; said Gus. &quot;I'm no good at cricket, nor croquet, nor any other
+game; nor do I really care a song about them. All the same, I'm not
+going to loaf.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is the idea?&quot; said Jim, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm going to have a shot for the history medal, and I mean to crawl up
+into the first three in the Fifth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you'll do 'em, Toddy,&quot; said Jim, admiringly. &quot;You're not quite such
+an ass as you once were.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I'll work evenly and regularly, and, perhaps, pull off one or
+other of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I go, you know, at midsummer. Then I'm to cram somewhere for the Army.
+Taylor's been advising a treble dose of mathematics, and I think I'll
+oblige him this time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Taylor's not half a bad fellow,&quot; said Gus.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, you're a monomaniac on that subject, Gus! Once you felt ill if you
+met Taylor or Corker on your pavement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jim Cotton was right. Gus was now a vastly different fellow from the
+shiftless, lazy, elusive Gus of old; he worked evenly and steadily
+onward, and, in consequence, his name danced delightfully near the top
+of the weekly form-lists of the Fifth Form. He, however, did not sap
+everlastingly, but on half holidays lounged luxuriantly on the school
+benches, watching the cricket going on in the bright sunshine, or he
+would take his rod and have an afternoon among the perch in the
+Lodestone, that apology for a stream. Fishing was Gus's ideal of
+athleticism; the exercise was gentle, and you sometimes had half a dozen
+perch for your trouble. Gus argued there was nothing to show for an
+eight hours' fag at cricket in a broiling sun.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XXVIII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>ACTON'S LAST MOVE</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Phil's unpopularity had somewhat abated, for his victory in the rackets
+had given him a good leg up in the estimation of his fellows; but still
+there was the uneasy feeling that in the matter of the &quot;footer&quot; cap his
+conduct was shady, or at least dubious.</p>
+
+<p>I was awfully sorry to see this, for I myself was leaving at midsummer,
+and in my own mind I had always looked upon Phil to take up the
+captaincy. He would have made, in my opinion, the <i>beau ideal</i> of a
+captain, for he was a gentleman, a scholar, and an athlete. But the
+other monitors, or at least many of them, did not look upon Phil with
+enthusiasm, and his election for the captaincy did not now seem the sure
+thing it had done a few months before.</p>
+
+<p>At St. Amory's the monitors elect a captain, and Corker confirms the
+appointment if he thinks their choice suitable, but he insists that he
+must be well up in the Sixth, and not a mere athlete.</p>
+
+<p>Now, Phil's ambition was to be Captain of St. Amory's, as his father had
+been before him, and when the home authorities finally decided that I
+was to go to Cambridge in the Michaelmas term; Phil hoped and desired
+to step into my shoes. He had one great lever to move the fellows in his
+favour, he was much the best cricketer in the school and deservedly
+Captain of the Eleven, and, besides that, was one of the best all-round
+fellows in Sixth Form work. But Phil did not in the least hint that the
+captaincy was his soul's desire; he determined to merit it, and then
+leave the matter in the hands of the school. So, from the very beginning
+of the term, he read hard and played hard, and he left his mark on the
+class lists and the scoring-board in very unmistakable fashion.</p>
+
+<p>And now Acton came like an evil genius on the scene. In a word, he had
+determined that if he could in any way baulk poor Phil's ambition, he
+would. If by his means he could put Phil out of the running for the
+captaincy it should be done. If he could succeed, this success would
+make up and to spare for his two former defeats. Therefore, warily and
+cautiously, he set to work.</p>
+
+<p>Acton himself was not much of a cricketer; the game was not, as it were,
+second nature to him, as it was to Phil, but he was a very smart
+field&mdash;cover was his position&mdash;and he could slog heavily, and often with
+success. He threw himself heartily into the game, and crept rapidly up
+the ladder of improvement, until Biffen's whispered that their shining
+light stood a good chance of getting into the Eleven. &quot;That is,&quot; said
+Biffen's crowd, &quot;if Bourne will run straight and give a good man his
+flannels. But after the 'footer' fraud, what can one expect?&quot; I heard
+of this, and straightway told Phil.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, they need not fear. If Acton deserves his flannels, he will get
+them. I've nothing whatever against his cricket.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton learned this, and instantly his new-found zeal for cricket
+slackened considerably.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh!&quot; said he to himself, &quot;I can't blister you there, Bourne, eh? I
+can't pose as the deserving cricketer kept out of the Eleven by a
+jealous cad of a captain, eh? So I'll try another tack to keep you in
+evil odour, Mr. Bourne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton did not turn up at the nets that night, and when Worcester noticed
+this, Acton calmly sailed on his new tack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's the good of sweating away at the nets, Dick? I'll not get my
+flannels in any case.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh yes, you will. Bourne has said he's got nothing against your
+cricket.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you believe that, Dick?&quot; said Acton, with a whistle of contemptuous
+incredulity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do,&quot; said Dick. &quot;But you are not exactly quite the flier at cricket
+that you are at 'footer,' so you can't afford to slack up now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've got private knowledge,&quot; said Acton, with a filthy lie, &quot;that I
+won't get 'em in any case, so I shall not try.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Dick was considerably upset by this, and Acton's sudden stoppage of
+practice after an intense beginning made his lie seem a good imitation
+of truth, and gave Worcester food for bitter thoughts against Phil.
+Acton worked &quot;the-no-good-to-try&quot; dodge carefully and artistically; he
+never actually said his lie openly, or Phil would have nailed it to the
+counter, but, like a second Iago, he dropped little barbed insinuations
+here, little double-edged sayings there, until Biffenites to a man
+believed there would be a repetition of the &quot;footer&quot; cap over again, and
+the school generally drifted back to aloofness as far as Phil was
+concerned.</p>
+
+<p>Acton laid himself out to be excessively friendly with the monitors, and
+just as he entered into their good graces, Phil drifted out of them&mdash;in
+fact, to be friendly with Acton was the same thing as being cool towards
+Bourne. Phil made splendid scores Saturday after Saturday, but the
+enthusiasm which his fine play should have called out was wanting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why don't you cheer your captain, Tom?&quot; I overheard a father say to his
+young hopeful.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No fear!&quot; said the frenzied Biffenite. &quot;Bourne is a beast!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In fact, the only one who seemed to derive any pleasure from Bourne's
+prowess in the field was Acton himself. He used to sit near the
+flag-staff, and when Phil made his splendid late cut, whose applause was
+so generous as his? whose joy so great? Acton's manoeuvres were on the
+highest artistic levels, I can assure you, and in the eyes of the
+fellows generally, his was a case of persecuted forgiving virtue. Acton,
+too, kept in old Corker's good books, and his achievements in the way of
+classics made the old master beam upon him with his keen blue eye.</p>
+
+<p>I saw with dismay how persistently unpopular Phil remained, and I heard
+the charms of Acton sung daily by monitor after monitor, until I saw
+that Acton had captured the whole body bar Phil's own staunch friends,
+Baines, Roberts, and Vercoe. And then it dawned upon me that Acton was
+making a bid for the captaincy himself, and when I had convinced myself
+that this was his object, I felt angrier than I can remember. I
+thereupon wrote to Aspinall, gave him a full, true, and particular
+account of Acton's campaign against Phil, and asked him to release
+me&mdash;and Phil&mdash;from our promise of secrecy regarding the football-match
+accident. His reply comforted me, and I knew that, come what might, I
+had a thunderbolt in my pocket in Aspinall's letter, which could knock
+Acton off the Captain's chair if he tried for that blissful seat.</p>
+
+<p>I told him so, to save trouble later on, and he heard me out with a far
+from pretty sneer, which, however, did not quite conceal his chagrin.
+But though I made sure of his being out of the hunt, I could not make
+sure of Phil being elected, and in a short time Mivart was mentioned
+casually as the likeliest fellow to take my place. I have nothing
+whatever to say against Mivart; he was a good fellow, but he was not
+quite up to Phil's level.</p>
+
+<p>Phil knew of these subterranean workings of his enemy, but he was too
+proud a fellow to try and make any headway against the mining.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If they elect Mivart they will elect a good man, that is all, though
+I'd give a lot, old man, to take your place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus things went on until Lord's came and ended in the usual draw.
+Phil's selection of the Eleven was in every way satisfactory, and his
+score for first wicket had made St. Amory's safe from defeat, but,
+despite all, his unpopularity was pronounced.</p>
+
+<p>The election was going to take place in a week, and Mivart, thanks to
+Acton's careful &quot;nursing,&quot; was evidently going to romp home in the
+election with something like a sixteen to four majority. Vercoe
+determined to propose Phil, and Baines was only too delighted to second
+it; but Phil's cronies had no more hope of his success than Phil had
+himself.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XXIX"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+
+<h3>WHY BIFFEN'S LOST</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>After the Lord's match there were two burning subjects of conversation:
+Who should be captain in my place? and which house should be the cock
+house at cricket? Every house captain looked with dread upon the house
+of Corker, great alike at cricket and footer, and it was agreed that
+very probably Phil Bourne would once more lead his men on to victory.
+Biffen's house did not stand much chance, for there was no superlative
+Acton at cricket; but it was, indeed, mainly through his efforts that
+Biffen's was as good as it was. You may remember that Acton had taken
+under his patronage those dark-skinned dervishes, Singh Ram and Runjit
+Mehtah. They were unquestionably the best pair of fellows in the school
+in strictly gymnastic work; and when summer came they showed that they
+would, sooner or later, do something startling with the bat. The
+Biffenite captain, Dick Worcester, did not altogether relish their
+proficiency. &quot;It's just my luck to have my eleven filled up with
+niggers,&quot; he observed to Acton in half-humourous disgust; but Biffenites
+pinned their faith on Worcester, the dervishes, and Acton, and, to the
+huge delight of Grim, Rogers, Wilson, Thurston, and other enthusiastic
+junior Biffenites, the resurrected house survived the first two rounds.</p>
+
+<p>The third round they were to meet Taylor's lot, a good house, and the
+hopes of Grim and Co. were tinged with considerable doubt.</p>
+
+<p>On the particular afternoon when this important match was to be played,
+Todd had strolled off to the Lodestone stream, laden with all the
+necessary tackle for the slaying of a few innocent perch. The year's
+final lists of the forms were due also in the evening on the various
+notice-boards.</p>
+
+<p>Gus had redeemed his promise made at the beginning of the term, and had
+worked hard for a prominent position on the list, and his attempt to
+capture the history medal had been, he thought, fairly satisfactory. He
+would soon know his fate, however, in both directions. Meanwhile, to
+allay his anxiety as to the results, he had unpatriotically given the
+cricket-fields a wide berth, and thus deprived Taylor's of the privilege
+of his cheer in the house match. He and Cotton had an invitation to dine
+with Taylor that evening, so, after telling Jim his programme for the
+afternoon, he had trudged down the lane which Jack Bourne knew so well.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon was hot: the one-o'clock sun made Gus think that perhaps
+there was more cruelty than usual in luring the fishes out of the cool
+waters of the Lodestone; but, nevertheless, he philosophically baited
+his hook, and cast forth. The sport was not exciting, and by-and-by Gus
+found himself wondering, not why the fish were so shy, but whence came
+the faint, delicate perfume of cigars, which undoubtedly reached his
+nostrils? The Lodestone Farm was a quarter of a mile away, and obviously
+the scent could not travel thus far, and since Gus was alone on the
+banks of the stream, running sluggishly towards the moat, the constant
+whiffs of cigars reaching him seemed somewhat mysterious. Gus looked
+again carefully, but could see no one, and yet there was undoubtedly
+some one smoking very near him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, it <i>is</i> odd,&quot; said Gus, for the nth time sniffing the &quot;tainted
+breeze.&quot; Curiosity piqued the fisher to trace the mystery. He
+reconnoitred carefully, and presently fancied he could hear the faint
+murmur of voices. This proceeded from the boat-house, wherein Hill
+moored the moat punt. &quot;I'll just make a reconnaissance in force,&quot; said
+Gus, putting down his rod. Arrived at the punt-house, Gus peeped in
+through the slightly open door, and discovered no less important
+personages than Runjit Mehtah and &quot;Burnt Lamb.&quot; The two dervishes were
+lolling luxuriantly on the punt cushions, each smoking a fine fat cigar,
+and the combined efforts of the two gave quite an Oriental air of
+magnificence to the ramshackle boat-house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hallo!&quot; said Gus. &quot;What the deuce are you doing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The cigars nearly fell from the mouth of each of the smokers as Gus
+appeared on the scene, but when the smokers made out Todd's face
+through the haze, Mehtah said, with much relief&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, talking.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That isn't quite a true bill,&quot; said Gus. &quot;Your Flora Fina de Cabbagios
+keep the fish from biting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have one,&quot; said Burnt Lamb, hospitably offering Todd a cigar.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No thanks. Is this punt-house your usual lounge?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sometimes,&quot; said Mehtah. &quot;We can't do without our smoke, and we can't
+do it, you know, at the school.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, that you jolly well can't, my dusky Othello. But aren't you two
+booked for the Houser's this afternoon? I thought you were the backbone
+of Biffen's.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The match is not for an hour yet,&quot; said Lamb.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh yes,&quot; said Mehtah, &quot;we're going to sit on your house this afternoon,
+Todd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this most interesting point of the conversation the door of the
+punt-house was violently slammed to, and Gus was propelled forward clean
+into the punt and received hurriedly into the unexpectant arms of Burnt
+Lamb. Before any of the three could understand what had happened there
+was a hurried fumbling with the staple and pin of the punt-house door
+from the outside, and then an equally hurried retreat of footsteps.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I'm hanged!&quot; said Gus, after he had picked himself up and tried
+the door. &quot;We're locked in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Young Rogers and Wilson, who had done this fell deed, hoped there was
+no doubt about the locking. This couple of ornaments had immediately
+after dinner snatched their caps and ran on past the Lodestone Farm for
+a particular purpose. They had found a yellowhammer's nest a day or so
+before, containing one solitary egg, and their hurried run was for the
+purpose of seeing if there was any increase, and if so&mdash;well, the usual
+result. They were anxious to get back to the cricket-field in time to
+shout and generally give their house a leg-up when the Houser with
+Taylor's commenced, and their friend Grim had strict orders to bag them
+each seats, front row, in the pavilion. They had been busy blowing eggs
+for pretty well twenty minutes, and, as they were lazily returning
+schoolwards, they caught sight of Gus watching his float.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's Gus Todd trying to hook tiddlers,&quot; said Rogers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Shy a stone,&quot; suggested Wilson, &quot;and wake 'em up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rot! There's no cover.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's only Todd,&quot; said Wilson. &quot;What's the odds?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, but not quite the old ass. Better get home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Keeping well out of sight, the two cronies had watched with curiosity
+Todd's manoeuvres as he tried to run the cigar-smokers to earth. When
+Gus entered the punt-house, a bright idea struck Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, Rogers, remember Toddy locking us in the laboratory last term? Two
+hundred Virgil.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot; said Rogers, catching the meaning of Wilson's remark instanter;
+&quot;if we only could cork him up there for the afternoon! That would pay
+him out for Merishall's call-over lines.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll chance it,&quot; said Wilson. &quot;If we can't do it, well, we didn't know
+Gussy was in&mdash;eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather! That is the exact fable we'll serve out to Todd, if necessary.&quot;</p>
+<br />
+
+<p>Breaking cover, the young Biffenites had secured the door of the
+punt-house without any difficulty, and then had run for dear life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Golly!&quot; said Rogers, pulling up when well out of sight of the
+boat-house; &quot;we did that rather neat, eh? Hanged if Toddy wasn't smoking
+like a chimney. Did you twig his weed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Regular stench,&quot; said Wilson. &quot;Toddy will have to swim out through the
+front way, or howl for help. The punt is sure to be locked.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He'll have to take a header off the punt into the moat, and that isn't
+crystal, exactly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Six yards of mud is about the figure,&quot; said Wilson, almost
+hysterically.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I say, old man, if we'd only been able to bottle up Jim Cotton along
+with his chum! What price Biffen's for the Houser, then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>If</i>&quot; said Wilson, wistfully. &quot;Wouldn't the dervishes walk into
+Taylor's bowling, if Bully wasn't there to sling them in?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never mind,&quot; said Rogers, hardly daring to contemplate the ravishing
+prospect of Taylor's house without Cotton, &quot;the dervishes are sure to
+come out strong this afternoon. Let 'em once get their eye in, and
+either of 'em is good enough for a hundred.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two young Biffenites found the faithful Grim holding the fort in the
+front bench of the pavilion against the ardent assaults of some
+Taylorian juniors, who could not see what Grim wanted with three seats.
+The fellows of the two houses were rapidly lining up for the match, and
+Dick Worcester had sent to Biffen's making affectionate inquiries for
+the dervishes. By-and-by, word was brought to Worcester that the two
+were not to be found in the neighbourhood; and a further hurried search
+by anxious Biffenites, headed by Rogers and Wilson, had a like result.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Isn't it awful, Grimmy?&quot; said Rogers. &quot;Where can the idiots be?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Worcester and Acton had a consultation. &quot;If they don't turn up in time
+we'll have to make a start without 'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If we have to go in we may give 'em up. We can't bat substitutes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No fear!&quot; said Dick. &quot;Cotton isn't likely to hear of that, and,
+besides, it's just like the rotten thing you might expect from those
+niggers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton smiled. &quot;All right, old chap. Put in Grim and Rogers in their
+place. The little beggars will be as keen as mustard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So Grim and Rogers had the honour of representing their house, since the
+dervishes did not turn up. Rogers, when he shut the door on Todd, did
+not guess that he had shut up Biffen's crack bats too. That Biffen's
+lost the match, and made no sort of show against Cotton's bowling, may
+also, perhaps, be attributed to the inadvertent imprisonment of Mehtah
+and &quot;Lamb.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The imprisoned trio had not had a very lively time that afternoon in the
+punt-house. The door remained obstinately shut, and neither Todd nor his
+two companions relished a swim in the moat as the price of freedom. The
+dervishes took matters very calmly; the desire to play for Biffen's was
+not strong enough to counterbalance the natural shrinking from a header
+into the duckweed and a run home in wet clothes. Singh Ram had a final
+try at the door, and then murmured&mdash;so Gus said&mdash;&quot;Kismet,&quot; and relit his
+half-smoked cigar. Todd, indeed, shouted lustily; but when he realized
+that by contributing to the escape of the dervishes he might contribute
+to the downfall of his own house, he stopped himself in the middle of an
+unearthly howl. For three hours Gus remained a half-voluntary prisoner;
+but, when he judged it safe, he created such a pandemonium that young
+Hill hurried out of the farm stable, thinking there must be some weird
+tragedy taking place at the punt-house. He had hurried across and let
+the trio out.</p>
+
+<p>The dervishes got a mixed reception from Biffen's crowd. Worcester was
+almost eloquent in his language, and Acton was calmly indifferent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I tell you, Worcester, some beast locked us in the punt-house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish they'd kept you there,&quot; said Dick, unmollified.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Worcester was swallowing his tea, Rogers and Wilson craved
+audience. Their faces were as long as fiddles.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, Worcester!&quot; began Rogers, tremulously, &quot;we've come to tell you that
+it was we who lost Biffen's the houser.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Wilson didn't play, and you caught Cotton,&quot; said Dick, astonished.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we locked the dervishes in the punt-house&mdash;we thought there was
+only Todd inside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, you did, you little beggars, did you?&quot; said Worcester, considering
+the doleful and grief-stricken Biffenites. &quot;Well, here's a shilling for
+each of you if you keep it dark. I'm deucedly glad the dervishes didn't
+play. I'd rather lose a dozen housers than feel the niggers were
+indispensable. Now, cut; and next time you bottle 'em up, see they don't
+get out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Golly!&quot; said Rogers, as the two left Worcester to his tea. &quot;I suppose
+the sun's affected Worcester's brain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Whilst the dervishes were explaining matters to Worcester the other
+prisoner was elbowing his way into the crowd around the Fifth Form
+notice-board, whereon were pinned the final lists. Jim Cotton was
+planted squarely before the board, eyeing the contents with huge
+delight, and when he caught sight of the struggling Gus he haled him
+vigorously forward.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here you are, Gus! By Jove, Toddy, you've done it this time, you old
+Perry fizzler!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Gus eyed the list with delighted eyes.</p>
+
+<p>This is what he saw: &quot;First&mdash;Todd, A.V.R.&mdash;history medal, and chemistry
+prize.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Need I say anything more of either Todd or Cotton? Todd entered the
+Sixth when the summer holidays were over, and Phil Bourne writes me
+often and tells me what a big gun Todd is in the schools. Jim Cotton was
+entered upon the roll-call of some celebrated &quot;crammer&quot; near the Crystal
+Palace. If crammers' hearts <i>could</i> be broken, Jim, I should say, will
+accomplish the feat. But if ever James Cotton <i>does</i> get into the Army
+he will never disgrace his regiment.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="XXX"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE END OF THE FEUD</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>Thoroughly satisfied with himself and all the world, Acton had on the
+last Saturday of the term&mdash;the election for the captaincy was to be held
+that night&mdash;left the cricket field to the enthusiasts, and turned his
+feet towards the old Lodestone Farm, the road he knew so well. He wanted
+to be alone with his happy thoughts. He was more than satisfied with
+himself, and, as he walked along, he mowed down with his ash-plant
+thistles and nettles in sheer joyfulness of heart. His long feud with
+Bourne would come to a joyful end that night. Mivart's election was
+certain, and Mivart's election would pay for all&mdash;for the loss of the
+&quot;footer&quot; cap, and for that terrible half-hour after Bourne had knocked
+him out, when he felt himself almost going mad from hatred, rage,
+disgust, and defeat. He had engineered his schemes beautifully; his
+revenge would be as perfect. The loss of the captaincy would be a
+bitter, bitter pill for Bourne to swallow.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst he strode on, engrossed with these pleasant thoughts, he fancied
+he heard shouts and cries somewhere in the distance behind him. He
+turned round, and down the long stretch of white road he saw a cloud of
+dust rolling with terrific speed towards him. For one moment he wondered
+whatever was the matter, but out of the dust he could see the flashing
+of carriage-wheels, the glitter of harness, and the shining coats of a
+couple of horses. The carriage came rocking towards him at a terrible
+rate, sometimes the wheels on one side off the road altogether; the
+horses had their heads up, and Acton could hear their terrified snorting
+as they thundered towards him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A runaway!&quot; said Acton, backing into the hedge. &quot;They'll come a cropper
+at the little bridge. What a smash there'll be!&quot; As the runaway horses,
+galloping like the furies, came nearer, Acton saw something which made
+his blood run cold. &quot;Jove!&quot; he cried, darting out from the hedge,
+&quot;there's a lady in the carriage!&quot; Acton was almost frozen with the
+horror of the thing. &quot;She'll be smashed to pieces at the bridge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton glanced to the little bridge half a mile down the long white road,
+where the road narrowed to meet the low stone walls, and he knew as well
+as though he saw it that the carriage would catch the bridge and be
+shivered to match-wood. The horses must be stopped before they reached
+it, or the lady would be killed. Now Acton, with all his faults, was no
+coward. Without thinking of the terrible risk he ran, he sprang out into
+the middle of the road and waved his arms frantically at the horses
+moving like a thunderbolt towards him. But they were too maddened with
+terror to heed this waving apparition in their path, and Acton, in the
+very nick of time, just jumped aside and avoided the carriage-pole,
+pointed like a living lance at his breast.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<a name="image-12"><!-- Image 12 --></a>
+<div class="img" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="images/012.jpg">
+<img src="images/012.jpg" width="85%"
+alt="As The Horses Whirled Past, He Clutched Madly At The Loose Reins." border="0" /></a>
+<br />
+<p class="cen" style="font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 90%;">
+As The Horses Whirled Past, He Clutched Madly At The Loose Reins.</p>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+
+<p>As the horses whirled past, he clutched madly at the loose reins,
+see-sawing in the air. He held them, and the leather slid through his
+frenzied grasp, cutting his palms to the bone. When he reached the loop
+he was jerked off his feet with a terrible shock, and was whirled along
+the dusty road, the carriage-wheels grinding, crunching, and skidding
+within a foot of his head. Luckily the reins held, and when, after being
+dragged a hundred yards or so, and half choked by the thick dust, he
+managed to scramble to his feet, he pulled with frenzied, convulsive
+strength on the off-side rein. The horses swerved to the fearful saw on
+their jaws, and pulled nearly into the left-hand hedge. Acton's
+desperate idea was to overturn the carriage into the hedge before the
+horses could reach the bridge, for he felt he could no more pull them up
+than he dare let them go. There was just a chance for the lady if she
+were overturned into the bank or hedge, but none whatever if she were
+thrown at the bridge. In a minute or so the carriage lurched horribly
+sideways: there was a grinding crash, and the carriage overturned bodily
+into the bank. The lady was shot out, and the next minute the horses'
+hoofs were making tooth-picks of the wrecked carriage.</p>
+
+<p>Acton darted up the bank and found the lady dazed and bruised, but was
+overjoyed to see she wasn't dead. &quot;Are you much hurt?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I don't think so,&quot; she said, with a brave smile; &quot;but I expected
+to be killed any moment. You are a brave man, sir, to risk your life for
+a stranger.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton said quietly, &quot;Not at all; but I think I was very lucky to turn
+them in time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In a minute or two there was a small crowd. Half a dozen stray cyclists
+had wheeled up, and with their help Acton got out the horses, dreadfully
+cut about the legs and shivering with terror, from the wreckage. Down
+the dusty road were men running for dear life, and ahead of all Acton
+caught sight of a well-known athletic figure running like a deer, and in
+another moment Phil Bourne was asking the lady in panting bursts if she
+were not really hurt.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, Phil; not in the least. I owe my life to this gentleman, who pulled
+the horses into the bank before they could reach the bridge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Phil wheeled round, his face beaming with gratitude, but when he saw
+Acton, pale to the lips, the words of thankfulness froze on his lips.
+For one instant he stared at his old enemy with wonder and amazement,
+then, with a gesture of utter gratitude, he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Acton, I can never tell you how much I owe you for saving my mother's
+life, but will you shake hands?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton looked at Bourne, whose face beamed with admiration and gratitude,
+and then he put out his hand. In that moment, so honourable to them
+both, the feud was stamped out for ever. Fresh as he was from as
+glorious a deed as any Amorian had ever done, he realized that he had
+been a blackguard towards Bourne the moment Phil begged him to shake
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>Phil murmured almost inarticulate words of gratitude; but Acton, more
+than a trifle disturbed at his own thoughts, interrupted hastily&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say no more about it, please, Bourne. You'd have done as much for any
+one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your hands are bleeding,&quot; said Phil, with immense concern.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing at all. I think the reins cut them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bourne <i>would</i> bind them. &quot;Of course!&quot; said she. &quot;How blind of me
+not to see that this gentleman is one of your schoolfellows, Phil.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mother,&quot; said Phil, &quot;this is John Acton.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've heard Phil talk about your wonderful win at Aldershot. I suppose
+you're great friends?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The &quot;great friends&quot; looked on the ground rather guiltily, but Phil cut
+in with&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I say, Acton, you must come and have tea with mother and me in my den.
+Can you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton said quietly, &quot;All right, Bourne. Thanks, awfully.&quot; Then he added
+under his breath to Phil, &quot;If I can come as a friend?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On that condition,&quot; said Phil, &quot;I'd like you to come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The trio walked back along the road&mdash;a happy trio they were, too&mdash;and a
+melancholy procession of injured horses and an angry coachman closed
+their rear. The tea in Bourne's room was very successful, and I should
+fancy that Hinton did more hard thinking and hard staring when he saw
+Acton amicably seated with his feet under Bourne's table than he ever
+did before. The minute he had permission, he flew down the corridor, and
+exploded bombshell after bombshell among wondering Amorians.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Acton and Bourne teaing together like two birds on a bough!&quot; he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That would be a funny sight,&quot; said Cherry. &quot;Birds don't take tea.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Write an epilogue, Fruity. Teaing together as friendly as Grim and I
+might.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only that,&quot; said W.E. Grim, with a genial wink, &quot;my opinion is, that
+Hinton's been on the drink, and seen double.&quot;</p>
+<br />
+
+<p>Incredulity and wonder were the dominant notes among Amorians for the
+next two hours.</p>
+
+<p>Acton and Phil walked to the station with Mrs. Bourne, and when she had
+gone to town, and the pair were returning schoolwards, Acton said
+thoughtfully&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look here, Bourne. Don't know quite what it was that made me feel so
+cheap when you rushed to thank me for helping your mater. I felt very
+small.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If that's so, you'll feel cheaper and smaller when pater sees you. I'd
+have those hands cured first.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bourne,&quot; said Acton, very seriously, &quot;I've been an arrant cad since
+I've come to St. Amory's, and if those horses hadn't bolted with your
+mater I should never have seen in you anything but a strait-laced prig,
+as I've all along thought you. I have, really. But that's all changed
+now, and I'm going to dry up. I suppose you know you aren't popular
+among the fellows generally?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather!&quot; said Phil, gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you know that you owe all this to me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only too well, Acton.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I'm going to make what amends I can. Have you any objection to my
+proposing you as captain to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Acton, you are a brick,&quot; said Phil, &quot;but you're too late now. I don't
+stand a ghost of a chance against Mivart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I'll get Mivart to second you. I can put all the fellows straight
+concerning you, and, by Jove, it's the least I can do! I'll make a clean
+breast of it to them all to-night before the election comes on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh no, you won't! I'd rather lose the captaincy than that. Besides,
+Aspinall asked me not to do anything bar refuse you your cap.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've been an insufferable cad,&quot; said Acton, with a hot blush, &quot;but you
+shall be captain in any case.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton saw Mivart, and whether he told him the whole history of his
+quarrel with Bourne or not, I cannot say; anyhow, Acton prevailed on him
+to second Phil. Mivart was a very good fellow, as I said before, and he
+thoroughly believed that Bourne would make a better captain than he
+himself would, so he said he would be delighted to back Phil up to any
+extent, since Phil was not now the jealous bounder he had so long been
+considered.</p>
+
+<p>I myself, as the retiring captain, took the chair in the Sixth Form
+room to see the election of my successor through with all due solemnity.
+Acton got up, and though he was very nervous, he said out straight what
+he had resolved to say.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I propose Phil Bourne for captain in place of Carr, and I'll tell you
+why. I consider him the most suitable fellow to take our old captain's
+place. Many of you may be&mdash;will be&mdash;surprised to hear me propose Bourne,
+for between us two, as you all know, there has been no love lost. But in
+all the dreary business I have been the utter cad and Bourne the other
+thing. He brought upon himself any amount of bad feeling because he
+would not give me my 'footer' cap. I did not deserve it&quot;&mdash;some one here
+said &quot;rot!&quot; emphatically&mdash;&quot;not because I wasn't good enough a player,
+but for another reason, which, much as I should shy at telling you, I
+would tell, only Bourne begged me not to. It is his and Carr's and
+another fellow's secret as much as mine, so I feel I had better not say
+it. But, believe me, in the business I was an utter cad, and instead of
+bringing all that row about my cap upon Bourne's head, I ought to have
+burned my boots, and never kicked a football again. There's another
+matter, this time strictly between Bourne and self, in which I did him
+as big an injury as one fellow can do another. He gave me a sound
+thrashing for it on the morning that you fellows went away last term,
+and Carr and Vercoe here assisted us in our little mill. No one ever
+deserved a thrashing as I deserved that one, and now I'm glad I got it.
+It was Bourne's only score against me. Fact is,&quot; said Acton, with a grim
+smile, &quot;I'd rather meet another Jarvis than Bourne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The fellows opened their eyes, and wondered what next.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This term I've worked the whole school, and especially you monitors,
+against Bourne, to make his chance of getting the captaincy a very rocky
+one. And I think I pretty well succeeded. You all liked Bourne before I
+appeared on the scene, with good reason, and I do hope you will all give
+him your votes, for, and I say it absolutely sure of its truth, the best
+fellow in St. Amory's is Bourne. That is all I can say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mivart got up before the fellows had time to recover from their
+astonishment, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have great pleasure in seconding Acton's proposal. I, too, consider
+Bourne out and out the best fellow to take Carr's place. Whilst Phil was
+under a cloud I was willing to stand for captain, but since we all know
+now that he stands where he did, the only proper thing to do is to give
+him the unanimous vote, for I do not mean to stand at all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The fellows blankly voted for Bourne, and, as Grim would be sure to say,
+&quot;the proposition was carried <i>nem. con</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>That evening Corker confirmed Phil's appointment, and I spent as happy
+an evening as I can remember. Acton said he should not come back to St.
+Amory's again, as his record was too black to be used as a convenient
+reference, but Phil and I and all the fellows told him we should be
+only too glad to let bygones be bygones, and that he had really done the
+square thing at the last.</p>
+
+<p>He did come back, and Phil's letters to me tell me that his old enemy is
+one of the most popular&mdash;deservedly&mdash;in the school, and his best friend.
+They are inseparable, play back together at &quot;footer,&quot; and are variously
+called Gemini, Damon and Pythias, David and Jonathan, as the case may
+be.</p>
+
+<p>Biffen's are still cock-house at &quot;footer;&quot; Acton is going in again for
+the &quot;heavy&quot;&mdash;this time without the Coon's help&mdash;and those &quot;niggers,&quot;
+Singh Ram and Runjit Mehtah, to Worcester's intense disgust, are the
+representatives of St. Amory's in gymnastics; and, altogether, Biffen's
+House is, thanks to Acton's help, perhaps the most distinguished in the
+school.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="ACTONS_CHRISTMASI"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>ACTON'S CHRISTMAS</h2>
+
+<h2>I</h2>
+
+<h3>SNOWED UP</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>A jollier going away for the Christmas holidays had not taken place for
+an age.</p>
+
+<p>An old Amorian had done &quot;something good&quot; in India, which had obtained an
+extra week's holiday for his old school, and the Amorians, a day or so
+before, had beaten the Carthusians, whose forwards had been led to the
+slaughter by an International whose very initials spell unapproachable
+football.</p>
+
+<p>The station of St. Amory's was crowded with the fellows, all sporting
+rugs of vivid patterns on their arms, and new and of-the-latest-shape
+&quot;bowlers&quot; on their heads, and new and fancy trouserings on their
+emancipated legs. No more Amorian cap&mdash;peak pointing well down the
+neck&mdash;no more trouserings of sober grey-and-black, no more beakish
+restraint for five weeks! Couples strolled up and down arm-in-arm; knots
+of the Sixth and Fifth discussed matters of high state interest, and the
+worthies of the lower forms made the lives of the perspiring porters a
+misery and a burden to them. Prominent Amorians were cheered, and when
+those old enemies, John Acton and Phil Bourne, tumbled out of their cab
+as the greatest of chums, the fags quavered out their shrill rejoicings,
+honouring the famous school backs who had stemmed the sweeping rush of
+the Carthusians a day or so before.</p>
+
+<p>There was a rumour that Acton had been asked to play for the
+Corinthians, and the other athletes on the platform pressed round the
+pair for information.</p>
+
+<p>Our old friends, Wilson and Jack Bourne, had shut up by stratagem B.A.M.
+Cherry in the lamp-room, and the piteous pleadings of that young
+Biffenite were listened to with ecstacy by a crowd of a dozen, who
+hailed the promises and threats of the prisoner with shouts of mocking
+laughter.</p>
+
+<p>W.E. Grim, Esq., explained to a few of his particular chums, Rogers
+among them, the wonderful shooting he was going to have &quot;up at Acton's
+place&quot; in Yorkshire, and they listened with visible envy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look here, Grimmy, if you tell us next term that you bagged two
+woodcock with one barrel, we'll boot you all round Biffen's yard&mdash;so
+there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton had, as a matter of fact, invited Dick Worcester, Gus Todd, Jack
+Senior, of Merishall's house, and Grim, to spend Christmas with him at
+his mother's place, and they had all accepted with alacrity.</p>
+
+<p>The northern express rolled into the station, and Grim was hurriedly
+informed by Rogers that he was to bag the end carriage for Acton under
+pain of death. Grim tore down the platform, and, encouraged by the
+cheerful Rogers, performed prodigies of valour, told crams to groups of
+disgusted Amorians, who went sighing to search elsewhere for room,
+engaged in single combat with one of Sharpe's juniors, and generally
+held the fort. And then, when Acton came running down, and wanted to
+know what the deuce he was keeping him waiting for, Grim realized that
+Rogers had &quot;done&quot; him to a turn. He shouted weird threats as he was
+hurried away, to the bubbling Rogers, and that young gentleman lifted
+his hat in ironical acknowledgment. There was the warning shriek from
+the engine, and then the train crawled out, taking toll of all the
+Amorians going north, and leaving the others to shout after them
+endearing epithets and clinching witticisms.</p>
+
+<p>For two days before the Amorians were on the wing home there had been
+heavy falls of snow, culminating, on the going-away day, in a heavy
+snow-storm. All the way from St. Amory's the express had been held up by
+doubtful signals, and in the deeper cuttings the snow had piled up in
+huge drifts. The express had toiled on its northern journey, steadily
+losing time at every point. At Preston Acton had telegraphed home that
+probably they would arrive quite three hours late. Thus it was that,
+tired but jolly, the party of five Amorians got out of the main line
+express at Lowbay, and, each laden with rugs and magazines, stumbled
+light-heartedly across the snow-sodden platform into the local train,
+which had waited for the express nearly three hours. They found
+themselves sixteen miles from home, and with no prospect of reaching it
+before midnight.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Raven Crag,&quot; the name of Acton's home, was situated just within the
+borders of Yorkshire. A single line of rails takes you from Lowbay
+Junction up the Westmoreland hills to the top of the heaviest gradient
+in the kingdom, and then hurtles you down into the little wayside
+station of Lansdale, the station for &quot;Raven Crag.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The sturdy tank engine coupled to the short local train was steaming
+steadily and noisily, and when the express had rolled heavily out for
+Carlisle, the station-master hastily beat up intending passengers for
+the branch line. Besides Acton's party, there were only two passengers,
+a lady and a little girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll give the old tank a good half-hour to crawl the eight miles to the
+top of the fells,&quot; said Acton, &quot;and then we'll rattle into Lansdale in
+ten minutes. But she <i>will</i> cough as she crawls up. Look here, Dick,
+I'll have a whole rug, please. This carriage is as cold as a
+refrigerator.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The fellows made themselves as comfortable as an unlimited supply of
+rugs and a couple of foot-warmers would admit of. Dick Worcester,
+without a blush, propped his head against a window and said: &quot;Grim,
+there's a lingering death for you if you fail to wake me five minutes
+from Lansdale.&quot; The others exchanged magazines and yawned hopefully,
+whilst Acton took out his Kipling, and straightway forgot snow, home,
+and friends.</p>
+
+<p>The station master, and the driver, and the guard held an animated
+conversation round the engine. &quot;Strikes me, Bill, the old engine'll
+never get t' top of t' bank to-night!&quot; said the guard. &quot;The snow must be
+terrible thick in Hudson's cutting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She'll do it,&quot; said the driver,&mdash;&quot;wi' luck.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Got another engine with steam up,&quot; inquired the guard, &quot;to give us a
+lift behind?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, they're all shut down, and we couldn't wait now. You'll have to run
+her through yourselves,&quot; said the station-master. &quot;Nearly four hours
+late already! Off with you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm doubting we can't do it,&quot; said the guard, thoughtfully. &quot;To-night is
+the worst night I can remember for years. The expresses could just
+manage it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well,&quot; said the driver, &quot;we're down to run it, and we're going to
+try.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There'll be drifts twenty feet deep in the cutting, and it'll be like
+running into a house,&quot; said the guard, slowly, &quot;but I suppose we've got
+to try, anyhow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He walked away thoughtfully to his van, and a moment later there was a
+shrill whistle, and the Lansdale local ran out into the night.</p>
+
+<p>And it <i>was</i> a night! There was no moon, and not the least glimmer of a
+star overhead; an utter darkness shrouded the world. The wind was high
+and steady, and its mournful howling through the rocky cuttings of the
+railway sounded unspeakably melancholy. Driven by the gale, the
+snowflakes had in five minutes covered the windward side of the train
+with a winding-sheet, inches deep, and when Gus Todd, from curiosity,
+opened the window to peer out into the night, the flakes, heavy, large,
+and soft, whirled into the carriage a very cataract of snow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't, Gus, please,&quot; pleaded Acton, looking up from his book in
+astonishment at the snow glittering in the lamp-light; &quot;I prefer that
+outside, thanks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's an awful storm, Acton,&quot; said Gus, hastily drawing up the window.
+&quot;Allah! how it snows!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is this up to the usual sample here?&quot; asked Senior, nestling nearer the
+dozing Dick.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; said Acton, listening a moment to the stroke of the engine, and
+the roar of the wind, &quot;I think we may say it is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Blizzard seems nearer the word, old man. The flakes come at you like
+snowballs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Shan't be sorry when we tread your ancestral halls. This weather is
+too-too for comfort. And don't we crawl!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We're rising,&quot; said Acton, &quot;and it is uphill work. Hear the old tank
+groaning?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In fact, the train, labouring up the heavy gradient, did barely more
+than crawl through the snow and wind, and the slow beat of the engine
+told how hard it was even to do that. Acton added thoughtfully, &quot;We've
+quite four miles yet to the summit, and there's a chance we mayn't&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mayn't what, Acton, please?&quot; said Grim, putting down his magazine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get there, Grimmy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the top? Oh, rot!&quot; said Senior.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I can't quite remember such a crawl as this, Jack; listen how the
+engine coughs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If we can't get to the top of the incline&mdash;what then?&quot; asked Grim.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go back, I should say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To Lowbay?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. But while we <i>do</i> crawl there's no need to fret.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That would mean goodbye for the present to your place, old man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. 'Twould be a horrid nuisance, wouldn't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Amorians listened anxiously to the engine toiling up the incline;
+but the howling of the wind almost drowned every other sound. The pace
+was still a crawl, but it was a steady one.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh! she'll worry through after all,&quot; said Acton.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the train pulled up with a
+jerk that sent Senior and Grim flying forward into the unexpectant arms
+of the dozing Dick and Gus Todd. The luggage rattled out of the rack in
+instantaneous response, and whilst all the fellows were staring blankly
+at each other they heard the crunching of the brake, and felt that the
+train had come to a dead stop.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What ever is the matter?&quot; gasped Worcester, quite wide awake by now.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We've landed into a drift, I fancy,&quot; said Acton, &quot;and there's no home
+for us to-night. What beastly luck!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was now no sound but the roaring of the storm; the engine gave no
+sign that they could hear, and Acton impatiently let down the window,
+but was instantly almost blinded by the snow, which whirled through the
+open window. Crossing over, he tried the other with better success, and
+the first thing he saw was the guard, waist deep in snow, trying to make
+his way forward, and holding his lamp well before him. &quot;What's happened,
+guard?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Matter!&mdash;why, we're off the line for one thing, and&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Forward, they could hear the shouts of the driver above the hiss of
+escaping steam.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let me have your cap, Grim,&quot; said Acton, all energy in a moment. &quot;I'm
+going forward to see what is up. Back in a minute.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He slipped out carefully, but seeing the predicament of the guard, he
+did not jump out into the snow, but advanced carefully along the
+footboards, feeling his way forward by the brass-work of the carriages.
+To the leeward the bulk of the train gave comparative shelter from the
+fury of the storm, and Acton was in a minute abreast of the guard,
+floundering heavily in the drifts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is a better way, guard. Take my hand, and I'll pull you up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right, sir. Here's the lamp.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton's hand closed on the guard's wrist, and in a moment the young
+athlete had the man beside him. Together they made their way forward,
+and by the light of the lamp they saw what had happened. The engine had
+taken a drift edge-way, had canted up, and then rolled over against the
+walls of the cutting. Luckily, the carriages had kept the rails. The
+driver was up to his neck in the snow, but the fireman was not visible.</p>
+
+<p>Acton availed himself of the overturned engine, which was making
+unearthly noises, and reached out a hand for the driver. The latter
+clutched it, and scrambled out.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where's your mate?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tom jumped the other way, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton swung the lamp round, sending its broad sheet of light into the
+driving snow. For a moment he could see nothing but the dazzling white
+floor, but next instant perceived the fireman, whose head rested against
+the horizontal wheel of the overturned engine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This man is hurt,&quot; he said, when he saw a crimson stain on the snow.
+&quot;Take the lamp, guard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton clambered over the short tender, seized the man by the shoulder,
+and, with an immense effort of strength, pulled him partly up. The man
+gave no signs of life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bear a hand, driver, will you? He's too much for me alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The driver hastily scrambled beside Acton, and in a minute or so they
+had the insensible man between them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He hurt himself as he jumped,&quot; said Acton, looking with concern at a
+gaping cut over the man's eye. &quot;Anyhow, our first business is to bring
+him round.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was a weary business lifting the unconscious fireman into an empty
+compartment, and still more weary work to bring him round, but at last
+this was done. Acton tore up his handkerchief, and with melted snow
+washed clean the ugly cut on his forehead, and then left the fireman in
+charge of his mate.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll have to roost here, sir, all night. There's no getting out of
+this cutting, nohow. Thank you, sir; I'll see to Tom.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton and the guard made their way back to the rear of the train, where
+the Amorians were awaiting their schoolfellow with impatience and
+anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The engine is off the rails and the stoker is damaged above a bit,&quot;
+said Acton, seriously, &quot;and we're fixtures here until the company comes
+and digs us out. There's only one thing to do: we must make ourselves as
+comfy as possible for the night. I must see that lady, though, before we
+do anything for ourselves. Back in a moment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton sallied out once more and devoted a good ten minutes to explaining
+matters to the very horrified and nervous lady and her tearful little
+twelve-year-old girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll bring you some cushions, and I'll steal Dick Worcester's pillow
+for the little girl,&quot; he explained cheerfully. &quot;You have one rug, I see.
+We can spare you a couple more. No danger at all, really, But isn't it
+really horrid? We have not a morsel of food to offer you, but I dare say
+you can, if you don't worry over it, put up with a makeshift bed&mdash;only
+for one night, I'm sure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton relieved Dick Worcester&mdash;who plumed himself on his pillow&mdash;of
+that article, and one of Senior's rugs.</p>
+
+<p>On his return he confronted the dubious looks of his chums with his
+invincible cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, you fellows! we're to sleep here. Two on a seat is the order, and
+one on the floor, that's me. Dicky, darling, please don't roll off your
+perch. We've plenty of rugs and overcoats: enough to stock Nansen, Grim,
+so we shan't all wake up frozen to death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Gus Todd smiled dutifully at this bull.</p>
+
+<p>The guard came with a modest request.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can you roost with us? Oh! certainly. Bag another cushion for the
+floor, and then you're all right. More, the merrier; and let the
+ventilation go hang. If Mr. Worcester doesn't fall on you, guard, I dare
+say you'll live to tell the tale.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Amorians, who trusted to Acton as they would have trusted to no one
+else on earth, entered into the fun of the thing, and the last joke of
+the night was a solemn warning to Grim from Dick Worcester to avoid
+snoring, as he valued his life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We can manage like this for one night, anyhow,&quot; whispered Acton to the
+guard, &quot;for we really keep each other warm. We'll get out of this
+to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The guard did not reply to this for fully a minute. He whispered back,
+&quot;Listen to the wind, sir. The storm isn't half over yet. I've got my
+doubts about to-morrow. We're snowed up for more'n a day.&quot;</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="ACTONS_CHRISTMASII"></a><hr />
+<br />
+<h2>II</h2>
+
+<h3>OVER THE FELLS</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>When day dawned, and the snowed-up travellers began to look around them,
+they found that, though the snow was not descending nearly as heavily as
+on the night before, the wind was still strong and the weather bitterly
+cold.</p>
+
+<p>On the windward side of the train the snow had drifted almost up to the
+window panes, but on the leeward there was considerably less. Looking up
+and down the line, they could see their train surrounded by its dazzling
+environment, and the drifts were so high that they had filled the low
+cutting stretching towards Lowbay level to its top.</p>
+
+<p>The train was an island in a sea of snow.</p>
+
+<p>The Amorians, stiff and cramped with their narrow quarters of the night,
+dropped off into the snow on the sheltered side and explored as far as
+the overturned engine, now stark and cold, with wonder and awe.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, we're like rats in a trap!&quot; exclaimed Gus Todd.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll have a council of war now,&quot; said Acton, as he saw the driver and
+his mate floundering towards them, &quot;and then we can see what's to be
+done&mdash;if anything can be done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It seemed the result of the council was to be the decision that there
+was nothing to be done. To go back to Lowbay, or forward to Lansdale,
+was plainly impossible, and neither guard nor driver thought they could
+be ploughed out under two days at the earliest. &quot;And yet,&quot; concluded
+Acton, &quot;we can't starve and freeze for two days. Look here, guard, isn't
+there a fell farm somewhere hereabouts? I begin to fancy&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's one over the hills yonder, three or four miles away. Might as
+well be three hundred, for they'll never dream of our being snowed up
+here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, but can't we go to them, if you know the way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's just what I don't know, with all this snow about. The farm is
+behind that hill somewhere; but I could no more take you there than fly.
+Besides, who could wade up to their necks in snow for half a mile, let
+alone three?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But the snow won't be so deep on the fells as in these cuttings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's true, I suppose. But get into a drift on the fell&mdash;and, Lord,
+that would be easy enough&mdash;you're done. And there's becks deep enough to
+drown a man, and you'll never see them till you're up to your chin in
+their icy waters. I wouldn't chance it for anything. We mun wait here
+till we're dug out, sir, and that's all about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where is that farm, guard? Behind which shoulder of the fell?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look here, Acton,&quot; began Dick Worcester, apprehensively, &quot;I'm hanged if
+we're going to let you go groping about for any blessed farm in this
+storm. We'll eat the coals in the tender first!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thanks, Dick. Which shoulder, guard?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man explained as fully and elaborately as if he might as well talk
+as think. The shoulder of the fell was noted by Acton exactly and
+carefully, even to borrowing a compass pendant off Todd's historic
+watch&mdash;chain.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It lies exactly N.N.E., and one could find one's way in the dark if
+that were all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But it isn't, Acton,&quot; said Grim, anxiously, &quot;not by a long chalk. Oh,
+Acton, don't go!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm going to turn over the idea, Grim. But, anyhow, I don't stir out of
+this cutting until the snow's out of the sky.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton and the guard talked long and seriously, whilst the Amorians put
+into practical working Senior's idea of a fire beside the van. There
+were coals galore.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour afterwards the snow ceased. &quot;Now,&quot; said Acton, quietly, &quot;I
+know exactly where that farm is. I'm going to go now and have a try for
+it. I'll move the farm people, if I reach 'em, double quick back again
+with food, for they're used to these fells, and then we can all go back
+to the farm together. The fact is,&quot; said Acton, hurriedly, as he saw a
+chorus of dissent about to break out, &quot;we <i>must</i> get out of this very
+soon. There's the lady and the child&mdash;and even more than that, there is
+the fireman, who is downright ill. We cannot wait till we're dug out;
+that is absolutely certain. I'm not going to run any danger, and if I
+find I'm likely to, I'm coming back. I fancy, really,&quot; he added,
+laughing, &quot;that the most difficult part of the business will be to get
+out of this cutting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The fellows all knew Acton; they knew that when he said things in a
+certain tone there was no good arguing. That was why Grim, with a white
+face, hurriedly left stoking the blazing fire and retired in dismay to
+the guard's van, and why Gus Todd, in an access of angry impatience,
+shied the magazine he had been turning over into the middle of the
+flames.</p>
+
+<p>Jack Senior said, &quot;This is just like you, Acton. You <i>will</i> fight more
+than your share of bargees, but this time I'm going to go one and one
+with you. If you like to risk being drowned in those beastly moorland
+streams, or to fall into some thirty-feet drift, I'm going to go too.
+That is final. <i>Kismet</i>, etc.!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton looked narrowly at Senior. &quot;All right, Jack. Get your coat on;
+but, honour bright, I'd rather go alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Couldn't do it, old man,&quot; said Senior, whilst Worcester nodded
+approvingly. &quot;What would Phil Bourne say, if he heard we'd let you melt
+away into&mdash;&mdash; I'm going too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The passage out of the cutting was not so difficult as Acton had
+bargained for; but Worcester and Todd did wonders with the fireman's
+shovels and made a lane through the drifts. On the firm ground of the
+fell the two found that, though the snow was deep enough in all
+conscience, it was not to be compared with the drifts on the line. The
+wind now, as they started off, was whipping away the loose top layers of
+snow in cold white clouds, which stung the face and ears with their icy
+sharpness; but, with caps well down and coats buttoned up to the ears,
+the two trudged on. The snow had ceased, but it was plain, by the dark
+and lowering sky, that this might only be temporary, and Acton kept up
+as smart a pace as he could, heading right for the shoulder of the fell,
+a couple of miles away, behind which he might, if he were lucky, see
+that moorland farm. The hill ran down into a valley, towards which the
+two Amorians hurried, Acton keeping his ears well open for the faintest
+murmur of water.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's a beck somewhere down here, Jack, but we'll not see it until
+we're almost into it. So look out!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All serene! I'm on the <i>qui vive!</i>&quot; Hardly were the words out of
+Senior's mouth than he stumbled headlong forward, the ground opening at
+his feet, and a narrow ribbon of cold grey water, silently sliding under
+its shrunken banks, caught Acton's eye. Senior had plumped cleanly into
+this. Luckily, it was not very deep, and he scrambled out to the other
+side drenched to the skin, and showing clearly enough, where he had
+broken through the snow on both sides, that all the care in the world
+would not prevent them repeating the experience. The snow overhung a
+yard. Acton had stopped dead when he saw Senior disappear, but in a
+moment he had sprung clear, and was helping his friend up the bank. The
+snow slipped silently into the stream as he jumped.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's number one,&quot; said Senior, &quot;and only half an hour from the train!
+Any more hereabouts?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I fancy so, but we may have better luck next time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hope so. Set the pace, old man, please. It's b-b-beastly c-c-cold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Acton was thoroughly upset by this mishap, and he headed up the opposite
+slope of the hill with a face that showed how the incident had shaken
+him. Senior's teeth chattered, and he looked blue with cold. The two
+plodded on, Acton insisting on Senior keeping behind. Acton again had
+the unenviable pleasure of seeing some more of those icy waters, and
+their slow and deadly stealing under the snow seemed to him sinister and
+fatal as he pulled himself up on the brink. The care necessary, the
+cold, cutting wind, and the knee-deep snow, made their progress terribly
+slow, and Acton began to notice that Senior, despite his anxiety for a
+sharp pace, was already terribly fagged.</p>
+
+<p>The distance widened between the two, and once, when Acton turned round
+and found his friend nearly thirty yards behind, his heart almost
+stopped beating.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This will never do! Heaven help us if he cracks up!&quot; He waited for the
+weary Senior, and then said gently, &quot;Pace too hot, old fellow?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather. So sorry, but you seem to run almost.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Run!&quot; smiled Acton, bitterly. &quot;Why, we're not doing a mile an hour.
+Put your heart into it, Jack, and for Heaven's sake don't let me get too
+much in front!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All serene!&quot; said Senior, gamely.</p>
+
+<p>To Acton's intense alarm, the snow had recommenced, and the wind swept
+it down the fells full into their faces. Acton was afraid that he might
+make a mistake if the snow became so heavy as to blot out the landscape,
+and, knowing that to do so might have terrible consequences, he
+nervously forced the pace.</p>
+
+<p>Senior responded gamely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Keep well behind, old man. You'll dodge the snow better. Can you do a
+wee sprint? We're not far from the top of the ridge, and then we've only
+to work down the hill and bear to the left, and there we are.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only!&quot; said Senior, wearily. &quot;How far?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A bare mile. Step it out for all you're worth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>By this time it was obvious that the storm had recommenced in all its
+fury, and Acton, in an ecstasy of horror and anxiety lest he should turn
+the shoulder of the hill too late to see anything of the farm, almost
+ran forward. He had thrust out his head, and his eyes anxiously peered
+forward. They were now almost on the top of the shoulder of the fell.
+Acton turned round with eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Five minutes more and we're&mdash;&mdash; He's gone!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Senior, indeed, was not in sight. With a groan of despair, Acton ran
+back down the slope.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack! Jack! Jack!&quot; he howled above the wind, &quot;Where are you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's lost!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Further down the slope ran Acton, shouting into the storm. He heard
+nothing; not a sound. Then, and his heart almost burst with joy, his eye
+caught sight of a moving, staggering figure, drifting aimlessly across
+his path. Senior, half his senses beaten out of him by cold, wet, the
+wind, and lack of food, looked at the screaming Acton with
+uncomprehending eyes, and was aimlessly shaking off his grasp to lounge
+easily to death.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He <i>has</i> cracked up,&quot; said Acton, in despair, and he gripped the
+half-senseless youth with frenzied strength.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is the way you're to go&mdash;with me!&quot; he yelled.</p>
+
+<p>Half-dragging, half-coaxing, uttering strange promises, to which Senior
+smiled stupidly, Acton regained those few but terrible yards to the top
+of the ridge. Then his heart almost died within him: there was nothing
+to be seen, as, half-blinded by the snow, he tried to peer down the
+valley.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Senior, bereft of his companion's arm, had sunk down happily upon the
+snow and looked at Acton, stupidly trying to make head or tail out of
+the situation. His face was darkly flushed; his lips were swollen; and
+his eyes were heavy with sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Roused from his momentary despair by these terrible signs, Acton seized
+his friend by the throat of his overcoat, and jerked him to his feet. He
+shook him savagely until some sign of intelligence glimmered in the
+sleepy eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack! Jack! Keep awake! We'll win out yet if you do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right, old man: my head buzzes awf'ly, Where are we? What are you
+doing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We're going down the hill. Don't leave go of me whatever you do, and
+oh, keep awake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Serene,&quot; said Senior, closing his eyes again peacefully.</p>
+
+<p>With a sob of horror and despair, Acton lurched down the hill, dragging
+his companion with him. He kept repeating, as though it were a formula:
+&quot;Down the slope and bear to the left&quot; again and again.</p>
+
+<p>What the next half-hour held of misery, horror, and utter despair, Acton
+cannot, even now, recall without a shudder. They stumbled and staggered
+downwards like drunken men. The snow blinded him, and the dragging
+weight of Senior on his arm was an aching agony, from which, above all
+things, he must not free himself.</p>
+
+<p>Then, as the very climax to hopeless despair, Senior rolled heavily
+forward and lay prone, as helpless as a log, his face buried in the
+snow! His cap had fallen off, and Acton watched the black curls
+whitening in the storm.</p>
+
+<p>How long he remained there, crouched before the motionless body, he does
+not know; only that he tried many times to shake the dying youth from
+the terrible torpor in vain. Senior breathed heavily, and that was all.</p>
+
+<p>All hope had died in Acton's breast. He threw himself forward beside
+his friend, and sobbed, with his face in the snow.</p>
+
+<p>A sound reached Acton's ears which brought him to his feet with a bound.
+He placed his hand to his ear, and sent his very soul to the effort to
+fix the sound again, above the roar of the wind. It was the deep, but
+not distant, low of cattle.</p>
+
+<p>A third time did the low boom through the storm.</p>
+
+<p>Almost frantic with a living hope, Acton turned to Senior. He raised the
+unconscious youth, and, by a mighty effort, got him upon his shoulders,
+and then staggered off in the direction of the sound. He has a faint
+recollection that he rolled over into the snow twice, that he waded
+across a river, with the water up to his arm-pits, and always that there
+was a weight on his neck that almost throttled him.... He felt that he
+was going mad. Then at last&mdash;it seemed many hours&mdash;a building, wreathed
+in white, seemed to spring up out of the storm. Delirious with joy,
+Acton staggered towards it with his burden. Some figures moved towards
+him, and Acton shouted for help as he pitched forward for the last time
+into the snow. He dimly remembers strong hands raising him up and
+helping him through a farmyard, which seemed somehow to tremble with the
+low of cattle, and then he was in a chair, and a fire in front of him.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+
+<p>An hour or two afterwards, Acton was seated before a table, and, in the
+intervals of gulping down hot coffee and swallowing food, told his
+tale. The peasant farmer and his wife listened open-eyed with
+astonishment. The farmer, from sheer amazement, dropped into the
+broadest Westmoreland dialect.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How far did thoo carry t'other yan?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't know, really. Seemed an awful way. I went through a river, I
+know. The water guggled under my arms.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;River!&quot; said the farmer, rising up and running his hand over Acton's
+clothes. &quot;He <i>has</i>, wife; he's waded through t' beck! Man, give us thee
+hand! Thoo's a&mdash;thoo's a good 'un. Noa! thoo shan't stir. I'll bring
+t'folk over t'fell mysel'!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And he did&mdash;the farmhouse, a few hours afterwards, giving the snowed-up
+passengers a hospitality which none of them ever forgot.</p>
+
+<p>There was the jolliest Christmas at &quot;Raven Crag&quot; that had ever been
+known. Mrs. Acton had whipped up a cohort of <i>cousins et cousines</i>&mdash;as
+they say in the French books&mdash;and even Grim found a partner, who didn't
+dance half bad&mdash;for a girl. Did I say a jolly Christmas? Well, even
+jolly doesn't quite do it justice.</p>
+
+<p>Letters dropped in upon Acton in the course of the week. There was one
+from Senior's father, which made Acton blush like a school-girl. There
+was another, a very stately one, from the board-room of St. Eustis,
+wherein the secretary of the Great North and West Railway, on behalf of
+the directors, tendered him hearty thanks for his great services to
+themselves and their employees. There was another from a lady, which
+<i>simply gushed</i>. There also arrived a small lock of child's hair, which
+Mr. Acton was begged to accept from a little girl, who slept &quot;on Mr.
+Acton's pillow.&quot; Dick Worcester claimed this, but Acton was adamant.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I say, Todd,&quot; said Grim, earnestly, &quot;don't you think we fellows might
+give Acton some memorial or other, just to show what we think of him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good, Grimmy! Trot out suggestions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I had thought of a stained-glass window in&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Todd couldn't look at W.E.G.'s face for days after without a quiver.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<h3 class="sc">The End</h3>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<h5 class="sc">Printed by William Clowes and Sons, Limited,<br />
+London and Beccles.</h5>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Acton's Feud, by Frederick Swainson
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Acton's Feud, by Frederick Swainson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Acton's Feud
+       A Public School Story
+
+Author: Frederick Swainson
+
+Release Date: January 25, 2005 [EBook #14772]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACTON'S FEUD ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Beginners Projects, Marie Stelly, Bruce
+Thomas and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+(https://www.pgdp.net).
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: ACTON DROPPED TO THE GROUND LIKE A BLUDGEONED DOG.]
+
+     ACTON'S FEUD
+
+
+     A PUBLIC SCHOOL STORY
+
+     BY
+     FREDERICK SWAINSON
+
+     1901
+
+     WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+     LONDON
+     GEORGE NEWNES, LIMITED
+     SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND
+     1901
+
+     AD MATREM
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+  I. THE FOUL                                   1
+
+  II. THE PENALTY                               8
+
+  III. THE REGENERATION OF BIFFEN'S HOUSE      15
+
+  IV. BIFFEN'S PROGRESS                        22
+
+  V. COTTON AND HIS JACKAL                     27
+
+  VI. THE LAST CAP                             36
+
+  VII. THANKS TO ACTON                         49
+
+  VIII. BIFFEN'S CONCERT                       57
+
+  IX. THE END OF TERM                          65
+
+  X. THE YOUNG BROTHER                         75
+
+  XI. TODD PAYS THE BILL                       88
+
+  XII. RAFFLES OF ROTHERHITHE                  93
+
+  XIII. "EASY IS THE DOWNWARD ROAD"            99
+
+  XIV. IN THE STABLE                          106
+
+  XV. GRIM'S SUSPICIONS                       112
+
+  XVI. TODD "FINDS HIMSELF"                   119
+
+  XVII. RAFFLES' BILL                         126
+
+  XVIII. HODGSON'S QUIETUS                    133
+
+  XIX. HOW THEY "'ELPED THE PORE FELLER"      138
+
+  XX. ACTON'S TRUMP CARD                      146
+
+  XXI. LONDON AND BACK                        156
+
+  XXII. THE PENFOLD TABLET FUND               161
+
+  XXIII. BOURNE _v._ ACTON                    170
+
+  XXIV. A RENEWED FRIENDSHIP                  179
+
+  XXV. A LITTLE ROUGH JUSTICE                 187
+
+  XXVI. THE MADNESS OF W.E. GRIM              194
+
+  XXVII. CONCERNING TODD AND COTTON           204
+
+  XXVIII. ACTON'S LAST MOVE                   209
+
+  XXIX. WHY BIFFEN'S LOST                     215
+
+  XXX. THE END OF THE FEUD                    225
+
+
+ACTON'S CHRISTMAS
+
+  I. SNOWED UP                                237
+
+  II. OVER THE FELLS                          248
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+ACTON DROPPED TO THE GROUND LIKE A BLUDGEONED DOG             Frontispiece
+
+PHIL WALKED DOWN THE STEPS WITHOUT A FRIENDLY CHEER                40
+
+ACTON JUST REACHED IT WITH HIS HEAD                                50
+
+AS THE TRAIN MOVED, GRIM SAID, "THREE CHEERS!"                     74
+
+ACTON THREW HIM INTO THE SNOW-HEAP                                 78
+
+A LITTLE YELLOW, EAR-TORN DOG BUSTLED OUT OF SOME SHED             94
+
+"I'M GOING TO HAVE THE SEVEN TEN, OR SHOW YOU UP"                 128
+
+THE GREEN POWDER UNDERWENT SOME WEIRD EXPERIMENTS                 142
+
+HE PUSHED UP HIS WINDOW AND CRAWLED THROUGH                       160
+
+"CUT, YOU MISERABLE PUPPY"                                        172
+
+HE GAVE ME A LONG, STEADY LOOK OF HATRED                          204
+
+AS THE HORSES WHIRLED PAST, HE CLUTCHED MADLY AT THE LOOSE REINS  226
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE FOUL
+
+
+Shannon, the old Blue, had brought down a rattling eleven--two
+Internationals among them--to give the school the first of its annual
+"Socker" matches. We have a particular code of football of our own, which
+the school has played time out of mind; but, ten years ago, the
+Association game was introduced, despite the murmuring of some of the
+masters, many of the parents--all old Amorians--and of Moore, the Head,
+who had yielded to varied pressures, but in his heart thought "Socker"
+vastly inferior to the old game. Association had flourished exceedingly;
+so much so that the Head made it a law that, on each Thursday in the
+Michaelmas term, the old game, and nothing but the old game, should be
+played, and woe betide any unauthorized "cutters" thereof. This was almost
+the only rule that Corker never swerved a hair's breadth from, and bitter
+were the regrets when Shannon had sent word to Bourne, our captain, that
+he could bring down a really clinking team to put our eleven through their
+paces, if the match were played on Thursday. Saturday, on account of big
+club fixtures, was almost impossible. Corker consented to the eleven
+playing the upstart code for this occasion only, but for the school
+generally the old game was to be _de rigueur_.
+
+So on this Thursday pretty well the whole school was out in the Acres,
+where the old game was in full swing; and, though I fancy the players to a
+man would have liked to have lined up on the touch-line in the next field
+and given Shannon the "whisper" he deserves, O.G. claimed them that
+afternoon for its own, and they were unwilling martyrs to old Corker's
+cast-iron conservatism. Consequently, when Bourne spun the coin and
+Shannon decided to play with the wind, there would not be more than
+seventy or eighty on the touch-line. Shannon asked me to referee, so I
+found a whistle, and the game started.
+
+It was a game in which there seemed to be two or three players who served
+as motive forces, and the rest were worked through. On one side Shannon at
+back, Amber the International at half, and Aspinall, the International
+left-winger, were head and shoulders above the others; on our side, Bourne
+and Acton dwarfed the rest.
+
+Bourne played back, and Acton was his partner. Bourne I knew well, since
+he was in the Sixth, and I liked him immensely; but of Acton I knew only a
+little by repute and nothing personally. He was in the Fifth, but, except
+in the ordinary way of school life, he did not come much into the circle
+wherein the Sixth moves. He was brilliantly clever, with that sort of
+showy brilliance which some fellows possess: in the exams, he would walk
+clean through a paper, or leave it untouched--no half measures. He was in
+Biffen's house and quite the most important fellow in it, and no end
+popular with his own crowd, for they looked to him to give their house a
+leg up, both in the schools and in the fields, for Biffen's were the
+slackest house in St. Amory's. He played football with a dash and vim good
+to see, and I know a good few of the eleven envied him his long, lungeing
+rush, which parted man and ball so cleanly, and his quick, sure kick that
+dropped the ball unerringly to his forwards. He was not in the eleven; but
+that he would be in before the term was over was a "moral." He was
+good-looking and rather tall, and had a certain foreign air, I thought;
+his dark face seemed to be hard and proud, and I had heard that his temper
+was fiery.
+
+Bourne had chosen him to play against Shannon's team, and as Acton bottled
+up the forwards on his wing Bourne felt that the school's future right
+back would not be far to seek.
+
+I soon saw that the school was not quite good enough for the others:
+Shannon was almost impassable, and Amber, the half, generally waltzed
+round our forwards, and when he secured he passed the ball on to Aspinall,
+who doubled like a hare along the touch-line. The question then was "Could
+Acton stop the flying International, who spun along like Bassett
+himself?" And he did, generally; or, if he could not, he forced him to
+part with the ball, and either Baines, our half, lying back, nipped in and
+secured, or Bourne cleared in the nick of time. Nine times out of ten,
+when Acton challenged Aspinall, the International would part with the ball
+to his inside partner; but twice he feinted, and before either of the
+school backs could recover, the ball was shot into the net with a high and
+catapultic cross shot. Again and again the game resolved itself into a
+duello between Acton and Aspinall, and Bourne, when he saw the dealings
+with the International and his wiles, smiled easily. He saw the school was
+stronger than he thought.
+
+The interval came with the score standing at two against us. When I
+started the game again I found that our fellows were pulling along much
+better with the wind, and that some of Shannon's men were not quite so
+dangerous as before, for condition told. We quickly had one through, and
+when I found myself blowing the whistle for a second goal I began to think
+that the school might pull through after all. Meanwhile Acton and Aspinall
+were having their occasional tussles, though somewhat less often than
+before, and three or four times the school back was overturned pretty
+heartily in the encounters.
+
+Though there was not a suspicion of unfairness or temper on Aspinall's
+part, I fancied that Acton was getting rather nettled at his frequent
+upsets. He was, I considered, heavier than Aspinall, and much taller, so I
+was both rather waxy and astonished to find that he was infusing a little
+too much vigour into his tackling, and, not to put too fine a point on it,
+was playing a trifle roughly. Aspinall was bundled over the touch-line a
+good half-dozen times, with no little animus behind the charge, and
+ultimately Bourne noticed it. Now, Bourne loathed anything approaching bad
+form, so he said sharply to Acton, though quietly, "Play the game, sir!
+Play the ball!" Acton flushed angrily, and I did not like the savage way
+he faced round to Bourne, who was particularly busy at that moment and did
+not notice it. The game went on until within about five minutes from time.
+Amber had been feeding Aspinall assiduously for the last ten minutes, and
+Acton had, despite his cleverness, more than he could really hold in the
+flying International. He stalled off the attack somehow, and Bourne always
+covered his exertions, so that it seemed as if there would be a draw after
+all. At last the ball was swung across, and Aspinall was off on a final
+venture. Acton stuck to him like a leech, but the winger tipped the ball
+to his partner, and as Acton moved to intercept the inside, the latter
+quickly and wisely poked the ball back again to Aspinall. He was off again
+in his own inimitable style, and I saw him smile as he re-started his run.
+I rather fancy Acton saw it too, and accepted the smile as a sneering
+challenge; anyhow, he set his lips and I believe made up his mind that in
+any case Aspinall should not get the winning goal. How it exactly happened
+I cannot say, but as Aspinall was steadying himself, when at top speed,
+for an almost point-blank delivery, I saw Acton break his own stride,
+shoot out his leg, and the next moment the International was stumbling
+forward, whilst the ball rolled harmlessly onward into our goal-keeper's
+hands. I could hardly believe my own eyes, but it was a deliberate trip,
+if ever there was one! Aspinall tried to recover himself, failed, and came
+with a sickening crash against the goal-post. I blew the whistle and
+rushed to Aspinall; his cheek was bleeding villainously and he was deadly
+pale. I helped him up, and he said with his usual smile--who could mistake
+it for a sneer?--"Thanks, old man. Yes, I do feel a bit seedy. That back
+of yours is an animal, though." He tried hard to keep his senses; I saw
+him battling against his faintness, but the pain and shock were too much
+for him; he fell down again in a dead faint.
+
+We improvised a hurdle and carried him up to the school. Acton, pale to
+the lips, prepared to bear a hand, but Bourne unceremoniously took him by
+the arm and said with concentration, "No thanks, Acton. We'll excuse
+you--you beastly cad!" I heard Bourne's remark, though no one else saw or
+heard. Acton's hand closed involuntarily, and he gave Bourne a vitriolic
+look, but did nothing nor said anything. We took Aspinall up to
+Merishall's--his old house--where he was staying, and left him there still
+unconscious.
+
+What astonished me was that no one save Bourne had noticed the trip, but
+when I came to think it over the explanation was easy. Acton had, whether
+from accident or of purpose, "covered" his man and blocked the view from
+behind. I myself had not really _seen_ the trip, but it would have
+been plainly visible for any one opposite on the touch-line, and luckily
+there was no one opposite. The goal-keeper might have seen it, but Roberts
+never attends to anything but the ball--the reason he's the fine keeper
+that he is. Bourne had actually seen it, being practically with Acton, and
+I knew by his pale face and scornful eyes that he would dearly have liked
+to kick Acton on the spot.
+
+I was, as you may guess, intensely pleased that no one had an idea of the
+foul except Bourne and myself, for I could imagine vividly where the
+rumour of this sort of "form" would spread to. We'd hear of it for years
+after.
+
+I mentally promised that Acton should have a little of my opinion on the
+matter on the first opportunity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE PENALTY
+
+
+I arranged to see Bourne that evening, when we should have heard the
+doctor's report on Aspinall. In the evening Bourne strolled into my room,
+looking a little less gloomy than I expected. "Briggs says that there is
+nothing broken, and that as soon as Aspinall gets over the shock he will
+be all right. The cut may leave a scar, but that will be about all. All
+the same, Carr, I think that's too heavy a price to pay for the bad temper
+of one of our fellows who can't stand a tumble into the mud at 'footer.'
+You saw the villainy, didn't you?"
+
+"I can't say I actually saw him trip, but there's no doubt whatever that
+it was an abominable foul."
+
+"None at all. I saw him, worse luck, tolerably plainly."
+
+"Do you know anything about him?"
+
+"Practically nothing."
+
+"I think Biffen's rather fancy he's going to lift them out of the mire."
+
+"Can't say I envy them their champion."
+
+"What strikes me as odd is that such a magnificent player should do such a
+vile trick."
+
+"Rum, certainly. The affair will give quite a professional touch to our
+'Socker' fixtures, and the Carthusians will ask us to bar our bullies when
+they come down again. Oh, this _is_ sweet!"
+
+"I say, Bourne, this business must not move one inch further. You've
+spoken to no one?"
+
+"Is it likely?"
+
+"We'll not have any of our dirty linen washed _coram populo_, old
+chap. Frightful bad form. No one knows but you, Aspinall, and self."
+
+"Surely Aspinall will----"
+
+"You don't know Aspinall, old man. He'd shrivel up sooner than say a word
+more. Bet you he'll speak of it as an accident. Remember, he was captain
+of the school here once."
+
+"Which makes it a blacker shame than ever," said Bourne, wrathfully.
+
+"I've inquired casually of the Fifth, and it seems our friend once
+distinguished himself in the gym. Lost his temper--as _per
+recipe_--and Hodgson had to knock him down before he could see that
+we put on the gloves here for a little healthy exercise, and the pleasure
+of lifting some of the public schools championships. He, however,
+apologized to Hodgson, but I don't think he'll do the honourable here."
+
+"Then, the chief attraction of the beauty is its temper?"
+
+"Or want of it."
+
+"Who is he, anyhow?"
+
+"Yorkshire people, I believe. Own half a town and no end of coin. Been to
+school in France and Germany, and consequently came here rather late. I
+know his head-piece Is all right, and I imagine his amiability is only a
+little foreign blood working its way out. He will be with us in the Sixth
+at Christmas."
+
+"Delightful prospect. What I want to know is--how are we to settle this
+business as far as he is concerned? Ought Moore to know?"
+
+"I don't think so. Never trouble Corker more than you can help, old man.
+That's a tip for you when I'm gone. Besides, masters generally mishandle
+affairs of this sort. I rather fancy I'll put it to Aspinall when he pulls
+through."
+
+"Do. One thing, though, is pretty certain. He'll never get his cap as long
+as I'm captain of the footer eleven. I'd rather come out of it myself."
+
+"Of course. I see there's no help for that, but, all the same, it will
+make complications. What a pity he _can_ play!"
+
+"It is, for he is a back out of a thousand."
+
+Bourne's voice had in it a ring of genuine regret, and whilst I could
+almost have smiled at his unaffectedly tragic tone, I could see the vista
+which his resolution opened up. I heard the school shouting at Bourne to
+let the finest player out of the eleven in, and all the shouting would be
+across "seas of misunderstanding." I know Bourne saw the difficulties
+himself, and he left my study soon after with a rather anxious look on his
+face. Personally I determined not to think about the matter until I had
+seen Aspinall. From the very first I had never expected any help from
+Acton. There was something about the whole of his bearing in the caddish
+business that told me plainly that we would have to treat him, not as a
+fellow who had been betrayed to a vile action by a beastly temper and was
+bitterly sorry for it, but as a fellow who hated us for finding it out.
+
+I saw Aspinall two days later, and as we walked towards the station I
+broached the matter.
+
+"Certainly; I thought he tripped me, but he has written me and said how
+sorry he was for my accident, so, of course, it rests there."
+
+"Candidly, Aspinall, have you any doubt yourself?"
+
+"No, old fellow. I'm sorry, but I really think he tripped me. He was riled
+at a little hustling from Shannon's lot, and I may have upset him myself
+occasionally. But it is a small matter."
+
+I looked at the bandages across his cheek, and I didn't think it small.
+
+"But, Aspinall, even if we leave you out of the business, it isn't a small
+matter for us, especially for Bourne."
+
+"Well, no; hardly for you," he admitted. "'Twas a piece of sheer bad form.
+It shouldn't be done at our place at all."
+
+"If you were in Bourne's place would you bar him his place in the eleven?"
+
+Aspinall considered a full minute.
+
+"On the whole, I think I should--at least, for one term; but I'd most
+certainly let him know why he was not to have his cap--privately, of
+course. I should not like it to get about, and I do not fancy Acton will
+say much about it."
+
+That night Bourne and I crossed over to Biffen's, and waylaid Acton in his
+den. I'm pretty sure there wasn't another room like his in the whole
+school. No end of swell pictures--foreign mostly; lovely little books,
+which, I believe, were foreign also; an etching of his own place up in
+Yorkshire; carpets, and rugs, and little statuettes--swagger through and
+through; a little too much so, I believe, for the rules, but Biffen
+evidently had not put his foot down. Acton was standing on the hearthrug
+with his back to the fire, and on seeing us he politely offered us chairs
+with the air of a gentleman and a something of grace, which was a trifle
+foreign.
+
+I saw that Acton's polite cordiality nettled Bourne more than a little,
+but he solemnly took a chair, and in his blunt, downright fashion, plunged
+headlong into the business.
+
+"Only came to say a word or two, Acton, about Thursday's match."
+
+"A very good one," he remarked, with what Corker calls "detached
+interest." "Aspinall's accident was more than unfortunate."
+
+"The fact is," said Bourne, bluntly, "neither Carr nor I believe it was an
+accident."
+
+"No? What was it, then? Every one else thought it was, though."
+
+"We know better. We know that you deliberately fouled him, and----"
+
+Acton paled, and his eyes glittered viciously, though he said calmly,
+"That is a lie."
+
+"And," continued Bourne, "though there is not a fellow even a respectable
+second to you at 'footer,' I shall not give you your cap as long as I am
+captain of the eleven. That is all I came to say."
+
+Acton said quite calmly (why was he so uncommonly cool, I asked
+myself?)--though his face was red and white alternately: "Then listen
+carefully to what I say. I particularly wanted to have my footer cap--why,
+does not concern any one but myself--and I don't fancy losing it because a
+couple of fellows see something that a hundred others couldn't see, for the
+sufficient reason that there wasn't anything to see. I shall make no row
+about it; and, since you can dole out the caps to your own pet chums, and
+no one can stop you--do it! but I think you'll regret it all the same. I'm
+not going to moan about it--that isn't my way; but I really think you'll
+regret it. That is all; though"--this with a mocking sneer--"why it
+requires two of you to come and insult a man in his own room I don't
+understand."
+
+"I came to say that if you'd apologize to Aspinall things might
+straighten."
+
+"Might straighten! Oh, thanks!" he said, his face looking beastly
+venomous. "I think you'd better go, really."
+
+So we went, and I could not but feel that Bourne was right when he said on
+parting, "Our friend will make himself superbly disagreeable over this,
+take my word for it! But he won't get into the eleven, and I won't have a
+soul know that old Aspinall's scar is the work of a fellow in St. Amory's,
+either. If they have to know, he must tell them himself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE REGENERATION OF BIFFEN'S HOUSE
+
+
+To say that Acton was upset by our visit and our conversation and Bourne's
+ultimatum would be beside the mark; he was furious, and when he had cooled
+down somewhat, his anger settled into a long, steady stretch of hate
+towards us both, but especially towards Bourne. He simmered over many
+plans for getting "even" with him, and when he had finally mapped out a
+course he proceeded, as some one says, "diligently to ensue it;" for Acton
+was not of that kind to be "awkward" as occasion arose, but there was
+method in all his schemes.
+
+It so happened that Worcester was captain of Biffen's house, and also of
+Biffen's "footer" team. My own opinion was that poor old Worcester would
+have given a lot to be out of such a house as Biffen's, and I know he
+utterly despised himself for having in a moment of inexplicable weakness
+consented to be permanent lead to Biffen's awful crowd on the Acres. He
+died a thousand deaths after each (usual) annihilation. Worcester and
+Acton had nothing in common, and, except that they were in the same house
+and form, they would not probably have come to nodding terms. Worcester,
+of course, looked up to the magnificent "footer" player as the average
+player looks up to the superlative. After the first game of the season,
+when Acton had turned out in all his glory, Dick had thereupon offered to
+resign his captaincy, even pressing, with perhaps suspicious eagerness,
+Acton's acceptance of that barren honour. But Acton did not bite. Captains
+were supposed to turn out pretty well every day with their strings, and
+Acton was not the sort of fellow to have his hands tied in any way. So he
+had gently declined.
+
+"No, old man. Wouldn't dream of ousting you. You'll get a good team out of
+Biffen's yet. Plenty of raw material."
+
+"That's just it," said Worcester, naively; "it is so jolly raw."
+
+"Well, cook it, old man."
+
+"It only makes hash," said Worcester, with a forlorn smile at his own
+joke.
+
+But now Acton thought that the captaincy of Biffen's might dovetail into
+his schemes for the upsetting of Bourne, and therefore Dick's proposal was
+to be reconsidered. Thus it was that Worcester got a note from Acton
+asking him to breakfast.
+
+Worcester came, and his eyes visibly brightened when he spotted Acton's
+table, for there was more than a little style about Acton's catering, and
+Worcester had a weakness for the square meal. Acton's fag, Grim, was busy
+with the kettle, and there was as reinforcement in Dick's special honour,
+young Poulett, St. Amory's champion egg-poacher, sustaining his big
+reputation in a large saucepan. Worcester sank into his chair with a sigh
+of satisfaction at sight of little Poulett; he was to be in clover,
+evidently.
+
+"That's right, Worcester. That _is_ the easiest chair. Got that last
+egg on the toast, Poulett? You're a treasure, and so I'll write your
+mamma. Tea or coffee, Dick? Coffee for Worcester, Grim, tea for me. Pass
+that cream to Worcester, and you've forgotten the knife for the pie.
+You're a credit to Sharpe's, Poulett; but remember that you've been
+poaching for Biffen's footer captain. That's something, anyhow. Don't
+grin, Poulett; it's bad form. Going? To Bourne's, eh? I can recommend you,
+though it would be no recommendation to him. You can cut, too, Grim, and
+clear at 9.30. See the door catches."
+
+Grim scuttled after the renowned egg-poacher, and Worcester and Acton were
+left alone. When Worcester was fed, and had pushed back his chair, Acton
+broached the business to which the breakfast was the preliminary.
+
+"Fact is, Worcester, I've been thinking how it is that Biffen's is the
+slackest house in the place."
+
+"Oh! it's got such a plucky reputation, you know. The kids weep when
+they're put down for Biffen's. Give a dog a bad name--"
+
+"But why the bad name?"
+
+"Dunno! Perhaps it's Biffen. I think so, anyhow. At any rate, there's not
+been a fellow from the house in the Lord's eleven or in the footer eleven,
+and in the schools Biffen's crowd always close the rear. By the way, how
+did you come among our rout?"
+
+"I think mater knew Biffen; that's the explanation."
+
+"Rather rough on you."
+
+"Don't feel anything, really, Worcester."
+
+"Well, Biffen has got a diabolical knack of picking up all the loose ends
+of the school; all the impossible fellows gravitate here: why, look at our
+Dervishes!" (Dervish was the slang for foreigners at St. Amory's.)
+
+"We've certainly got more than our share of colour."
+
+"That's Biffen's all the world over," said Dick, with intense heat; "you
+could match any colour between an interesting orange and a real jet black
+among our collection. Biffen simply can't resist a nigger. He must have
+him. What they come to the place at all for licks me. Can't the
+missionaries teach 'em to spell?"
+
+"_La haute politique_," suggested Acton.
+
+"Of Sarawack or Timbuctoo?" said Worcester, with scorn. "Bet my boots that
+Borneo one's governor went head-hunting in his time, and the darkest
+African one's knows what roasted man is."
+
+Acton laughed, for a nigger was to Worcester as a red rag to a bull. "St.
+Amory's for niggers!" Dick would say with intense scorn.
+
+"Anyhow," said Acton, "I think there's no need for us to be quite so
+slack."
+
+"You'll pull us up a bit?" said Dick, with genuine admiration.
+
+"Thanks. But I meant the whole house generally."
+
+"Not much good. We're Biffen's, that never did nor never shall, etc."
+
+"I don't know. There's sixty of us, barring your niggers; we ought to get
+eleven to look at a football with a business eye out of that lot, you
+know."
+
+"We ought to, but don't."
+
+"We ought to do something in the schools too."
+
+"We ought to, but don't, though Raven is in for the Perry Exhibition.
+Guess he won't pull it off, though."
+
+"We'll see about that, too," said Acton. "As for the niggers--"
+
+"Oh, never mind them!" burst in Worcester. "Without humbug, Acton, do you
+really want our house to move a bit?"
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"Well, then, consent to captain our footer eleven and we give ourselves a
+chance, for I can't make the fellows raise a gallop at any price, and I
+somehow think you can. Have a try. If you are sick of it at Christmas,
+I'll come in again; honour bright. It isn't too good-natured of me to ask
+you to pull Biffen's out of the mud, but you're the only fellow to do it
+if it can be done. Will you?"
+
+"You wouldn't mind resigning?"
+
+"By Jove, no!" said Worcester, precipitately.
+
+"Don't mention it. Not at all, old man, not at all."
+
+"Well, I've been thinking that, if you didn't mind, I'd like to try my
+hand on our crowd; though, since you don't move 'em, there can't be much
+chance for me to do anything smart."
+
+"That doesn't follow, for you aren't me, old man."
+
+"Then I'll have a shot at it."
+
+Worcester grasped Acton's hand, as the French say, "with emotion."
+
+"But the house will have to elect me, you know; perhaps they'd fancy Raven
+as captain. He can play decently, and they know him."
+
+"Well, Biffen's are a dense lot, but I'm hanged if even their stupidity
+would do a thing like that. They've seen you play, haven't they?"
+
+"Thanks. Fact is, Dick, I feel a bit bored by the patronage of Taylor's
+and Merishall's, and Sharpe's and Corker's, and all the rest of the
+houses."
+
+"Oh! Biffen's laid himself out for that, you must see."
+
+"I don't fancy Bourne's sneers and Hodgson's high stilts."
+
+"Haven't noticed either," said Dick.
+
+"H'm!" said Acton, rather nettled by Dick's dry tone. "I have. As for the
+niggers--"
+
+"The other houses despise us on their account. We're the Dervish Camp to
+the rest."
+
+"As for the niggers, they shall do something for Biffen's too," said
+Acton, rather thoughtfully.
+
+"You mean in the sing-songs? Well, they'll spare the burnt cork
+certainly."
+
+"Well, that's an idea too," said Acton, laughing, "but not the one I had.
+That will keep."
+
+Worcester might have some curiosity to know what Acton's idea was, but he
+wasn't going to inquire anything about the niggers.
+
+"It's awfully brickish of you, Worcester," said Acton, as Grim was heard
+trotting up the corridor "to stand down."
+
+"Not at all; the sacrifice is on your altar."
+
+"Then _allons_. Here's Grim knocking, and I've to see Corker at 9.40.
+You'll excuse me."
+
+Grim came in and commenced to clear away, and the two sallied out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BIFFEN'S PROGRESS
+
+
+That day, after morning school, Biffen's held a meeting, and thereat Acton
+was proposed captain by Worcester and seconded by Raven; and Biffen's
+confirmed Worcester's qualified opinion of their sense by electing him
+_nem. con_.
+
+From that day Acton threw his heart and soul into the regeneration of
+Biffen's. There did not pass an afternoon but that he turned out for
+footer, and coached, encouraged, bullied, stormed, praised each individual
+member of the team with the strictest impartiality and Spartan justice.
+
+The smallest fault was dragged out into the light of day, and commented on
+with choice fulness, and any clever concerted piece of work got its due
+reward. Acton would stand no half-hearted play; he wanted the last ounce
+out of his men. The fellows stared a bit at first at his deadly
+earnestness, so unlike Dick's disgusted resignation at their shortcomings;
+but they found the change refreshing on the whole, for they could stand a
+lot of bullying from a fellow like Acton, who never seemed to make a
+mistake, or to have an off-day, and who could give stones and a beating to
+the best man among them. They respected his skill, and buckled to the work
+in hand. In about a fortnight there was a suggestion of style about the
+moving of some of the fellows up the field. Worcester backed up Acton with
+whole-hearted enthusiasm, and Raven was lost in wonder at the forward
+movement. This backing Acton found rather useful, for Dick and Raven were
+as popular as any in St. Amory's.
+
+Some of the fellows were inclined to turn restive after about a fortnight,
+when the novelty of earnestness in football had worn off, but Acton's
+demands were as inexorable as ever. Matters came to a head (probably, as I
+expect, to the new captain's inward satisfaction) when his girding upset
+Chalmers--about the best forward of Biffen's regenerated lot. There was to
+be a match with some of the Fifth for the Saturday, and Acton had arranged
+a preliminary canter the day before to test his attack. Chalmers was the
+winger, but on the day he was tremendously selfish, and stuck to the ball
+until he was robbed or knocked off it. Now, Acton loathed the "alone I did
+it" type of forward, and asked Chalmers pretty acidly what his inside man
+was for. This riled Chalmers considerably, for he had a large private
+opinion about his own play, and he said pretty hotly, "Mind your own
+business, Acton."
+
+Acton said very coolly, "I am going to do so. Please remember, Chalmers,
+this is not a one-horse show."
+
+"Seems distinctly like it, judging by the fellow who's been doing all the
+talking for the last age."
+
+"Play the game, and don't be an ass."
+
+"I object to being called an ass," said Chalmers, in a white rage.
+
+"Well, mule, then," said Acton, cheerfully. "Anything to oblige you,
+Chalmers, bar your waltzing down the touch-line to perdition. You're not a
+Bassett nor a Bell yet, you know."
+
+Chalmers would dearly have liked to have struck Acton, but Worcester
+looked so utterly disgusted at the whole business, that I fancy it was
+Dick's eye that suggested to Chalmers his getting into his coat and
+sweater. He did so, and stalked angrily off the field.
+
+Now, Chalmers really liked the game, and did not fancy being crossed out
+of the eleven, which Acton would almost certainly proceed to do; so that
+night after tea, he went to Worcester's study, and boarded Dick.
+
+"Apologize to Acton," said Dick.
+
+"But he called me an ass!"
+
+"You were one," said Dick, dryly. "Acton's putting in a lot of work over
+the slackest house that ever disgraced the old school, and this is how
+he's treated. Ass is a mild term."
+
+Chalmers went to Raven.
+
+"Apologize," said Raven.
+
+"He called me a mule," urged Chalmers, despairingly.
+
+"So you were. I quite expected to see the kicking begin, really. Acton's
+sweating no end to screw us up to concert-pitch, and flat mutiny is his
+reward. Apologize, and help us win the Fifth to-morrow."
+
+So Chalmers moved reluctantly across to Acton's and made his apology.
+
+"Don't mention it," said Acton, cheerfully. "Sorry I upset you, Chalmers,
+but you elected me captain, and I do want a little success in the houses,
+and how can we get it if the fellows don't combine? Say no more about it;
+I was rather afraid you weren't going to come, which is the unadorned
+truth."
+
+This last delicate touch, which showed Chalmers that, without the apology,
+his captain had meant to cut him adrift, _sans_ hesitation, and yet
+contained a pretty little compliment to his footer, embarrassed Chalmers
+more than a little; but Acton offered his forward tea and muffins, and
+five minutes afterwards Chalmers was finding out what a nice fellow Acton
+really could be. The next day Chalmers smoothed his ruffled feelings by
+piling on three goals against the Fifth, who sneaked off the Acres five
+goals to the bad. This was the first time for ages that Biffen's had
+tasted blood, and the news of the victory staggered others besides the
+victims. There was quite a flutter among the house captains, and Acton, by
+the way, had no more mutinies.
+
+"Without haste, without rest," Biffen's captain started his second project
+for the elevation of his house. He had noticed what none of the other
+fellows would condescend to see, that two of the despised niggers of
+Biffen's were rather neat on the bars. He spent a quarter of an hour one
+evening quietly watching the two in the gym, and he went away thoughtful.
+Singh Ram and Mehtah thereupon each received a polite note, and "could
+they call about seven in Acton's study?" They came, and Acton talked to
+them briefly but to the point. When they sought their quarters again they
+were beaming, and "Singed" Ram carried a fat book of German physical
+exercises under his arm.
+
+"Am I not coming out strong?" said Acton, laughing to himself, "when I set
+the very niggers a-struggling for the greater glory of Biffen's--or is it
+Acton's? Then, there's that exhibition, which we must try to get for this
+double-superlative house. Raven must beat that Sixth prig Hodgson, the
+very bright particular star of Corker's. Would two hours' classics, on
+alternate nights, meet his case? He shall have 'em, bless him! He shall
+know what crops Horace grew on his little farm, and all the other rot
+which gains Perry Exhibitions. Hodgson may strong coffee and wet towel
+_per noctem_; but, with John Acton as coach, Raven shall upset the
+apple-cart of Theodore Hodgson. There's Todd in for the Perry, too, I
+hear. Hodgson may be worth powder and shot, but I'm hanged if Raven need
+fear Cotton's jackal! If only half of my plans come off, still that will
+put Philip Bourne in a tighter corner than he's ever been in before.
+Therefore--_en avant!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+COTTON AND HIS JACKAL
+
+
+As I said before, the victory of the despised Biffenites over the Fifth
+Form eleven--a moderate one, it is true--caused quite a little breeze of
+surprise to circulate around the other houses, which had by process of
+time come to regard that slack house as hopeless in the fields or in the
+schools. Over all the tea-tables that afternoon the news was commented on
+with full details; how Chalmers had gained in deadliness just as much as
+he had lost in selfishness, and how Raven and Worcester had worked like
+horses, and mown down the opposition--"Fifth Form opposition!" said the
+fags, with a lift of the eyebrows--like grass, and as for Biffen's new
+captain, well, if there was one player who could hold a candle to him it
+must be Phil Bourne, and he only.
+
+In the Rev. E. Taylor's house, Cotton senior, who answered to the name of
+"Jim" among his familiars, and was "Bully Cotton" to his enemies--every
+Amorian below the Fifth, and a good sprinkling elsewhere--and Augustus
+Vernon Robert Todd, who was "Gus" to every one, sat at tea together in
+Todd's room. Cotton had been one of the slain that afternoon on the Acres,
+and was still in his footer clothes, plus a sweater, which almost came up
+to his ears. There was a bright fire in the grate, and though Todd's room
+was not decorative compared with most of the other fellows' dens, yet it
+was cheerful enough. Cotton had come back from the match hungry and a
+trifle bruised from a smart upset, only to find his own fire out, and
+preparations for tea invisible. Having uttered dire threats against his
+absent, erring fag, he moved into his friend's room, and the two clubbed
+together their resources, and the result was a square meal, towards which
+Cotton contributed something like 19/20, A.V.R. Todd's share being limited
+to the kettle, the water, and the fire. When Cotton had satisfied his
+footer appetite, he turned down his stocking and proceeded vigorously to
+anoint with embrocation his damaged leg, the pungent scent of the liniment
+being almost ornamental in its strength.
+
+"How did you get that, Jim?" said Gus, surveying the brawny limb with
+interest.
+
+"Acton brought me down like a house, my boy."
+
+"Fair?"
+
+"Oh yes; but you've got to go down if he catches you in his swing."
+
+"You fellows must have played beautifully to let Biffen's mob maul you to
+that extent."
+
+"Gus, my boy, instead of frowsing up here all the afternoon with your
+books, you should have been on the touch-line watching those Biffenites at
+their new tricks. Your opinion then would have a little avoirdupois. As it
+is, you Perry Exhibit, it is worth exactly nothing."
+
+"You're deucedly classical to-night, Jim."
+
+"Oh, I'm sick of this forsaken match and all the compliments we've had
+over it. I'm going now to have a tub, and then we'll get that Latin paper
+through, and, thirdly, I'll have the chessmen out."
+
+"Sorry, I can't, Jim," said Todd, discontentedly. "There is that beastly
+Perry Scholarship--I must really do something for that!"
+
+"Thomas Rot, Esq.!" said Cotton. "Haven't you been a-cramming and
+a-guzzling for that all this afternoon? You've a duty towards your chums,
+Toddy, so I tell you."
+
+"That's all very well, Jim, for you, who are going to break some crammer's
+heart, and then crawl into the Army through the Militia, but my pater
+wants me to do something in the Perry, I tell you."
+
+"Chess!" said Cotton, disregarding Todd's bleat, and then, with a sly
+smile, he added, "Shilling a game, Gus, and you know you always pull off
+the odd one."
+
+"All right," said Todd, swallowing the bait with forlorn eagerness; "I'll
+have the board set out if you must come in."
+
+"Oh, I must!" said Cotton, with a half-sneer at Todd's anxiety to pick up
+a small sum. "Clear the table, and we'll make a snug evening of it."
+
+Todd's method of clearing a table was novel, if not original. He carried
+it bodily into Cotton's room, and then returned with his friend's
+mahogany, which was undoubtedly more ornamental than his own.
+
+Acton was absolutely right when he sneeringly called Gus "Cotton's
+jackal." Todd was exactly of the material which makes a good jackal,
+though he never became quite Jim Cotton's toady. He was a sharp, selfish
+individual, good-looking in an aimless kind of way, with a slack, feeble
+mouth, and a wandering, indecisive glance. He had a quick, shallow
+cleverness, which could get up pretty easily enough of inexact knowledge
+to pass muster in the schools. Old Corker knew his capabilities to a hair,
+and would now and then, when Gus offered up some hazy, specious
+guess-work, blister him with a little biting sarcasm. Todd feared the
+Doctor as he feared no one else. Todd's chief private moan was that he
+never had any money. His father was a rich man, but had some ideas which
+were rather rough on his weak-kneed son. He tipped poor Gus as though he
+were some thrifty hairdresser's son, and Todd had to try to ruffle it with
+young Amorians on as many shillings as they had crowns. Not a lad who ever
+had naturally any large amount of self-respect, the little he had soon
+went, and he became, while still a fag, a hewer of wood and drawer of
+water to his better-tipped cronies. His destiny finished when, on his
+entry into the Fifth, Jim Cotton claimed him, and subsidized him as his
+man.
+
+At the beginning of the term his father had told him that if he could make
+a good show in the Perry Exhibition there need not be any more grumbling
+about his tip. Gus came back to St. Amory's hysterically anxious to cut
+out all competitors for the Perry, but the shackles of his old serfdom
+were still about him. When he showed signs of being restive to the old
+claims, and recommended Cotton to do his own classics and mathematics,
+Cotton coolly and calmly demanded repayment of sundry loans contracted of
+old. Todd had not the pluck to face a term of plain living and high
+thinking by paying his former patron all he owed him and exhausting all
+his present tip by so doing, but flabbily, though discontentedly, caved
+in, and became Cotton's jackal as before.
+
+Cotton was by no means as bad as his endearing name might make you think.
+He was a tall, heavy fellow, with a large, determined-looking face. He was
+wonderfully stupid in the schools, but was quite clever enough to know it.
+He had some good qualities. He was straight enough in all extra-school
+affairs, did not lie, nor fear any one; kept his word, and expected you to
+keep yours.
+
+"You can't beat Hodgson of the Sixth, Gus, so what is the good of sweating
+all the term? Hodgson's got the deuce of a pull over you to start with."
+
+"I'm not frightened of Hodgson if you wouldn't bother, Jim."
+
+"Can't do without you, old cock. You're just the fellow to lift my Latin
+and those filthy mathematics high enough out of the mud to keep the beaks
+from worrying me to death. I tried Philips for a week, but he did such
+weird screeds in the 'unseens' that Merishall smelt a rat, and was most
+particular attentive to me, but your leverage is just about my fighting
+weight."
+
+Gus had sniffed discontentedly at this dubious compliment; but Cotton had
+smiled stolidly, and continued to use Gus as his classical and
+mathematical hack. Besides, there was something about Gus's easy-going
+lackadaisical temperament which exactly suited Cotton, and he felt for his
+grumbling jackal a friendliness apart from Gus's usefulness to him.
+
+This afternoon had been a fair sample of Todd's usual half-holiday.
+Feeling no heart for any serious work for the Perry, he had spent it in
+reading half a worthless novel, and skimming through a magazine, and
+feeling muddled and discontented in consequence. He had the uneasy feeling
+that he was an arrant ass in thus fooling time away, but had not
+sufficient self-denial to seize upon a quiet afternoon for a little
+genuine work.
+
+Cotton soon returned from his bath, and the two cronies spent about an
+hour in getting up the least modicum of their classics which would satisfy
+Merishall; and then they played chess, by which Gus was one florin richer.
+A third game was in progress, but Todd managed to tip over the board when
+he was "going to mate in five moves." Cotton thereupon said he had had
+enough, but Gus avariciously tried to reconstruct the positions. He failed
+dismally, and Cotton laughed sweetly. Now Cotton's laugh would almost make
+his chum's hair curl, so he retorted pretty sweetly himself, "I say, Jim.
+I can't get out of my head that awful hammering you fellows got this
+afternoon. Think Biffen's lot likely to shape well in the House matches?"
+
+"There's no telling, old man. But if they get moderate luck they'll be
+waltzing about in the final."
+
+"That's absolute blazing idiocy!" said Todd, knocking over more chessmen
+in his astonishment.
+
+"All right, Gus. To talk absolute blazing idiocy is my usual habit, of
+course. They may carry off the final even, but that, perhaps, is a tall
+order."
+
+Todd nursed his astonishment for a full five minutes, whistling
+occasionally, as at some very fantastic idea. At last he said more
+seriously: "Aren't you now, Jim, really pulling my leg?"
+
+"No, honour bright! Biffen's are really eye-openers."
+
+Gus said with infinite slyness: "Look here, I'll bet you evens Biffen's
+_don't_ pull off the final."
+
+"Oh, that is rot, Gus, to talk about betting, for you can't pay if you
+lose."
+
+Gus had not too much sensitiveness in his character, but this unmeant
+insult stung him.
+
+"You've no right to say that. I've paid all I've ever betted with you."
+
+Cotton considered heavily in his own mind for a moment. "That is almost
+true, but--"
+
+"Well, what do you mean--" began Todd, in a paddy.
+
+"All right," said Cotton; "shut up, confound you! I'll take you."
+
+"Three quid Biffen's are not cock-house at 'footer.'"
+
+"Done," said Cotton, unwillingly pulling out his note-book; "and straight,
+Todd, I shall expect you to pay if you lose."
+
+"Oh, shut up, Cotton, you cad! I shall pay if I lose, man. What do you
+want to keep on insulting me like that for?"
+
+"Steady, Gus. You'll have Taylor up if you howl like that. I meant
+nothing."
+
+"Nothing!" said Gus in a fury, seeking for something particularly sweet to
+say to his patron. "I jolly well hope, then, that if our house should meet
+'em in the rounds you will do your little best to put a stopper on their
+career. Don't, for the sake of pulling off your bet, present 'em with a
+few goals. You 'keep' for our house, you know."
+
+"Oh, dash it all, Todd," said Cotton, in a white rage, "you are a bounder!
+Think I'd sell my side?" he demanded furiously.
+
+"Ah!" said Gus, delighted at having got through Cotton's skin. "You don't
+stomach insults any more than I do. Then why do you ladle them out so
+jolly freely to me?"
+
+"That was a particularly low one," said Cotton angrily; "and anyway, you
+avaricious beggar, you've got thundering good terms, for it is hardly
+likely that Biffen's can really be cock-house. There's Corker's house,
+with Bourne and Hodgson and a few more good men. You're a sight more
+likely to see my three sovs, that I am yours."
+
+"I hope so," said Gus, with some relief at the anticipation of this
+pleasant prospect.
+
+Then the anger of the two simmered down, each having given and received
+some very choice compliments, and as these little breezes were usual
+between the two, ten minutes afterwards they were amiably entertaining
+each other. Cotton was putting up a pair of dumb-bells three hundred
+times, and his crony was counting and criticising his form. The Perry
+Exhibition did not enter Todd's head, but his bet--"such a gilt-edged
+one," he chuckled--was never once out of it. And Todd's bet had some
+momentous consequences for him, too.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE LAST CAP
+
+
+While Acton was thus making such strenuous exertions to lift Biffen's out
+of the mire, Bourne was finding out the whole unpainted beauty of the
+situation--as far as it concerned himself.
+
+The experimental footer elevens were chosen in what, I believe, is the
+usual manner. The old members of the school eleven formed a committee, and
+chose fellows to play in the weekly matches, and if any one of them showed
+special talent he was, of course, retained, and by-and-by the captain gave
+him his school cap, and he was henceforth a full-blown member of the
+eleven, with a seat on the committee like any of the old gang.
+
+There were left of the last year's team five players--Bourne, Mivart,
+Vercoe, Baines, and Roberts. The final promotion of fellows into the
+eleven, however, rested with the captain alone, and when he considered any
+fellow good enough he signified the same by presenting him with the blue
+and silver cap of St. Amory.
+
+The giving away of a cap had become quite a function. Whenever there was
+the rumour that some one was to have a cap after a match, pretty well the
+whole school swarmed round the pavilion, and when the new member came out
+in all the glory of his new blue and silver he got the cheers which his
+play or popularity deserved, and especially did the new member's house
+distinguish themselves in the shouting.
+
+Thus Bourne had six caps at his disposal, and since "Socker" had been
+introduced, the last cap was always given so that when the school played
+the last match--the Carthusians--the eleven would be complete.
+
+Bourne saw at once the cloud which was rising on the horizon when, at the
+first committee meeting to choose the eleven against "The Cognoscenti"
+Mivart said, "Well, Bourne, we've got your partner for to-morrow ready
+made. I think we may put that new chap Acton down right off."
+
+"Rather," said Vercoe. "He can't be left out."
+
+"Best back we've seen for an age-barring Phil, of course," said Baines.
+
+"And the others we'll have to fight over, as usual. My choice is Hodgson
+for centre."
+
+"Too lazy, Roberts. Mine is Chalmers."
+
+"Rot! He's a winger."
+
+And so the selection of an eleven against the Cognoscenti went on in the
+usual old-fashioned style.
+
+Bourne dropped into my study afterwards and said, gloomily; "On the whole,
+Carr, had I not better tell the fellows that they may elect Acton for our
+school fixtures, but he cannot have his cap? That will take the bull by
+the horns from the beginning."
+
+"By no means. The other fellows have nothing whatever to do with giving
+caps away; that is your business entirely. Besides, who knows? Acton may
+not care to play when he knows he cannot get his cap."
+
+"I'd be agreeably surprised if he didn't. But that won't be his little
+game. Take my word for it, he'll turn out on every blessed occasion, play
+like a master of the game, and give us no end of trouble."
+
+"Perhaps he may. Anyhow, something may turn up between now and the last
+match--we'll hope so, anyhow; and until the last cap is given away the
+fellows generally won't spot your little game."
+
+"'Tis only putting off the evil day, Carr," said Phil, discontentedly.
+
+"A good day to put off."
+
+Thus, when Hodgson was given the first cap, there was the general comment
+that he was pretty sure to annex a cap sooner or later, and might as well
+have it soon. Acton's turn--so said the school would come later, though
+Biffen's house sneered. "Of course, Hodgson is in the Sixth. What else but
+a Sixth Form fellow is wanted in a footer eleven?"
+
+Sharpe's house secured the next two caps, and Biffen's groaned aloud.
+"Whatever is old Phil about? One might think he was blind in his right eye
+and straddled in his left. We'll send him a pair of gig lamps, and then
+perhaps he may discover Acton--Acton, of Biffen's."
+
+The weeks went by, and after a spirited display by Chalmers against the
+Emeriti, he was given his cap, and for the first time since Biffen's was a
+house they had a man in the eleven. But they gasped as Chalmers came out
+of the pavilion with his blue and silver cap on his curls. "That ass
+Bourne found the house at last, and then he goes and carefully spots the
+wrong man. Whatever _is_ the matter with him? To pick Chalmers before
+Acton! Rot!"
+
+Over tea that night Biffen's bubbled and choked, and the other houses
+began to take a lively interest in the next distribution, for this
+constant passing of Acton was becoming exciting. But still--and I was glad
+to see it--the school had faith in Phil; they counted on justice being
+done, as it were, in the last laps. No one mentioned a word to him about
+the intense curiosity and even anxiety that his odd bestowal of caps had
+excited amongst them, for Phil has that way with him that can shut up a
+fellow quicker than you can snap a knife if that fellow is travelling out
+of bounds.
+
+However, when Place, of Merishall's, came out of the pavilion a full-blown
+member of the school eleven there was a scene. The whole body of fellows
+now thought that the comedy was pretty nearly becoming a tragedy, and they
+showed their feelings unmistakably. Place was cheered by Merishall's, but
+not overwhelmingly, and from the other houses there was an ominous
+silence. Place, as he trotted out, looked rather puzzled, and a bit
+undecided how to take his odd reception, and glanced rather helplessly
+round at the sea of faces all turned anxiously towards him. There would be
+pretty nearly seven hundred fellows round the pavilion, for there was no
+end of excitement.
+
+"Keep up your pecker, Place! You're all right, anyhow!" shouted some one.
+
+The other members came out one by one, and were cheered to the echo, and
+at last Phil came out with Hodgson. He was rather pale, but had his back
+very straight. There was a dead silence, and, for the first time since he
+had been captain, Phil walked down the steps without a friendly cheer. I
+think even now the old school behaved itself very well--the fellows were
+not behind the scenes, and didn't see more than was before their eyes, but
+there was not a single word thrown out at Phil. Acton came out with
+Worcester, and the pity was that he didn't deserve the cheers he got.
+
+[Illustration: PHIL WALKED DOWN THE STEPS WITHOUT A FRIENDLY CHEER.]
+
+The week before the Carthusian match there was but one solitary player to
+be promoted. The position was back, and every fellow in the place knew
+that, bar Bourne himself, there wasn't another man that could hold a
+candle to Acton there. The committee doggedly, and with meaning, elected
+the only player there was to elect, and Acton signified that he was
+willing to play. Bourne, as usual, was there, and no one felt more than he
+the air of distrust and constraint which hung over the meeting. When Acton
+was unanimously elected for back Phil stolidly wrote out the list of the
+team and had it pinned up on the notice-board. He had carefully drawn the
+line in red ink above the last name--Acton's--which showed that the
+pride of Biffen's was not in the eleven yet.
+
+Probably Acton on the next day played as well as even he had ever played
+in his life, for he was almost impassable, and the crowd of fellows
+cheered him till they were hoarse. The minute the whistle blew, like one
+man the whole school swarmed round the pavilion. The question each asked
+himself and his chum was, "Would Acton get the last cap?" And the answer
+was, "Why, of course! Who else should have it?"
+
+That afternoon to most of the fellows the eleven seemed an age getting
+into their sweaters and coats. When Acton appeared first, and it was seen
+that he was wearing the pink cap of Biffen's on his head there was more
+than astonishment, there was consternation. Whatever did it mean? Acton
+smiled good-naturedly at the school as they cheered him to the echo, and
+hurried unconcernedly along. The others of the eleven came out dejectedly,
+and filed up the hill in gloomy little groups. The whole school waited for
+Phil, and when he came out, pale and worried, they received him in icy
+silence. As he was coming down the steps one of Biffen's fags shouted
+shrilly, "Three cheers for Acton!"
+
+Phil stalked through the shouting school, and as I joined him and we
+walked up together, he said, through his clenched teeth--
+
+"I wish, old man, I had never seen that brute."
+
+That evening Bourne wrote to Worcester offering him the remaining cap.
+
+Worcester flew across to Acton's room, and said, "Bourne has offered me
+the place--the last cap. He must be stark, staring mad!"
+
+"Take it," said Acton, coolly.
+
+"No fear," said Worcester. "We have a stupid kind of prejudice here for
+having the best eleven we can get, and it isn't the best if you're out of
+it. Bourne has always been a most impartial fellow up to this date, so
+this little occurrence has thrown us off the rails. Before I go to
+protest, though, have you any idea what is the matter?"
+
+"He does not consider me fit for the eleven," said Acton with a light
+laugh, but also with perfect truth.
+
+"Rot!" said Dick, hurrying away.
+
+He hunted up the other nine fellows, and said bluntly his business.
+
+"I vote we all protest to Bourne. A round robin should meet the case."
+
+"Good," said Mivart. "Draw one up, Dicky dear."
+
+Dick in time produced the following:--
+
+"We, the undersigned, think that the St. Amory eleven is incomplete
+without John Acton, of Biffen's house, and, consequently, that he ought to
+have the last cap; and we would beg the captain to offer it him unless
+there be very good reasons for not doing so. We would suggest that if John
+Acton isn't to have the cap he be told the reason. The undersigned do not
+wish in the smallest degree to prejudice the right of the captain to
+select members for the eleven, but think that in the present case the
+withholding of a cap from John Acton inexplicable."
+
+"You're a ready scribe, Dick," said Chalmers. "We may all sign that, eh?"
+
+"Yes," said Worcester. "I first, because I am undeservedly offered the
+cap, and the rest of you in order of membership."
+
+No one saw any objection to signing Dick's memorandum, and forthwith, with
+all legal formality, the round robin was signed by the ten, and sent to
+Phil by Dick's fag with orders to wait for an answer.
+
+It came within five minutes.
+
+
+     "DEAR WORCESTER,
+       I have no intention of offering John Acton a place in the St.
+     Amory's football eleven. There are good reasons for not doing
+     so, and I have already told Acton the reasons. Please let me
+     know whether you accept the vacant place I had the pleasure of
+     offering you.
+                       Yours sincerely,
+                             PHILIP BOURNE."
+
+This was a thunderbolt among the fellows. Then Acton knew!
+
+Worcester posted back to Acton, lost in amazement.
+
+"Look at this, Acton!"
+
+Acton carefully read Bourne's letter, and Dick, who was watching him
+anxiously, saw him bite his lips with rage; for Phil's icy contempt stood
+out in every word of the letter.
+
+"He says you know why you are not in the eleven."
+
+Acton knew that he would have to explain something, or else Bourne would
+win the day yet. So he said--
+
+"That is true. He told me so at the beginning of the season, but, of
+course, I never bargained for his keeping his word; and when you hear the
+reason he gave me--if this is his reason--you'll gasp."
+
+"Well," said Dick, "although I've no right to ask you, I'd like to hear
+the plain, unvarnished tale, for, speaking out, Phil Bourne has always
+passed for a decent, level fellow. This business, somehow, doesn't seem
+his form at all, and it is only fair to him to say it."
+
+"Did you see the match we had with Shannon's scratch team when the term
+began?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"Did you notice anything about my play?"
+
+"You opened our eyes a bit, I remember."
+
+"Did I play roughly?"
+
+"No. Not quite that! You were not gentle; but you aren't that as a rule,
+though your game is fair enough."
+
+"Not for Bourne. He doesn't like my game. I'm too rough. It's bad form,
+_pace_ Bourne, therefore I'm barred my place in the eleven."
+
+"Is that the explanation?"
+
+"Yes. Honour bright! Except"--Acton paused diplomatically for a
+moment--"except, I don't think he likes me."
+
+"Then Phil is a fool, and he'll find out pretty speedily that we can't
+stand rot of this quality. I, of course, can't take the cap."
+
+"My dear fellow, why in the world not? If you don't, some other house will
+get it. Biffen's deserves two fellows in the eleven this year."
+
+"They do, by Jove!"
+
+"Then let us have the satisfaction of keeping out another Corker fellow."
+
+Dick told the other fellows plainly and without any gilding, his
+conversation with Acton, and they pressed him to go and see Phil
+personally; so Dick marched heavily to Bourne's quarters.
+
+"Sorry, Worcester, but I cannot explain anything. Not even to you. But I
+do hope you'll come into the eleven."
+
+Dick said shortly, "I think I shall, for Biffen's deserves the other cap,
+though the right fellow isn't getting it. By the way, Bourne, you'll not
+be very sweet to the school generally after this. They--the fellows--to a
+man, are no end cut up over Acton's treatment."
+
+"I supposed they would be. I knew it would be so."
+
+"Look here, Phil. You always did the square thing. Let us have the reason
+for this," said Dick, earnestly.
+
+"Sorry, Worcester, I can't."
+
+"Good night, then."
+
+"Good night."
+
+The rage and consternation of the Biffenites when they found that Bourne
+was immovable in his decision can be imagined. Some were inclined to take
+the matter up to Corker's throne, but they were a miserable minority.
+
+"Let Corker have a finger in our own private affairs!" said Dick, with
+intense disgust. "What next, gentlemen? We won't be able to blow our own
+noses without his permission. Keep the masters out of this, whatever we
+do. Can't we see the thing through ourselves? I vote we try, anyhow."
+
+Some were inclined to blame Dick for accepting the cap; but pretty
+generally it was agreed that, if Acton was not to have it, Dick was the
+next best man, but at what a distance! The honour of having two men in the
+eleven was no _solatium_ for the wounded pride of Biffen's, when they
+considered their great injury. The reason, though, was, naturally, what
+puzzled them--and, for the matter of that, the whole school. Did Bourne
+expect his team to play footer as though it were a game of croquet? Were
+drawing-room manners to be introduced on to the Acres' clay? Were the
+famous eleven of St. Amory's to amble about, like a swarm of
+bread-and-butter misses? One wit suggested wadded coats and respirators.
+Acton rough, indeed! Phil Bourne must be an embodiment of his grandmother,
+then! Most of the fags in Biffen's house sent Phil elaborate instructions
+for "a nice drawing-room game to take the place of 'Socker'
+football--nasty, rough 'Socker' footer--for one-and-six, and guaranteed
+to do no injury to the most delicate constitution. A child can play it!"
+These letters were anonymous, of course; but Biffen's house-paper was
+freely used. "Anyhow," said Phil, with a gentle smile to me, "the spelling
+is obviously Biffen's."
+
+Acton went on his own way, serenely indifferent to his house, which would
+have made a god of him on the smallest provocation. He cheerfully ignored
+Bourne, and he had the art of never seeing Phil when they met, in school
+or out, though, of course, Phil minded this not at all. When the
+Carthusians were played, Acton spent the afternoon reading with Raven,
+whose exam, was now very near; and, whilst the two were grinding out all
+the absurd details of Horace and his patron, "and the poet's little farm,
+and the other rot which gains Perry Exhibitions," the shouts and cheers
+of the school down at the Acres came floating up the hill to their room.
+
+The school lost their match with the Carthusians--the match which a good
+St. Amorian would rather win than any two others--and it was plain that
+Dick, though a useful fellow, could not bottle up the forwards in the
+Actonian style. This defeat was the last straw to break the back of the
+school's patience.
+
+It was customary, after the Carthusian match, for the footer captain to
+give his eleven a formal tea, Phil arranged the usual preliminaries, sick
+at heart, and wearily certain as to the result. Three put in an
+appearance--Vercoe, Baines, and Roberts--and in place of the burly forms
+of the rest of the St. Amory's eleven, the sylph-like figures of their
+fags flitted to Phil's hall of entertainment with curt little notes.
+Worcester and the rest "regretted they were unable to avail themselves of
+the captain's invitation."
+
+The tea was not a success.
+
+The school followed the plain lead of the eleven, and as Phil hurried
+along to chapel the next day no one hooked in with him, as had been done
+"the day before yesterday!" He was left severely alone.
+
+In plain words, St Amory's School consigned Phil Bourne to Coventry.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THANKS TO ACTON
+
+
+After the Carthusian match there was but one topic, or to be strictly
+accurate, perhaps, two topics of interest in the school--who would be
+cock-house at footer and who would get the Perry Exhibition.
+
+The rest of the houses knew that Biffen's house was not now the
+unconsidered article it was once; that it wasn't the door-mat upon which
+any one might wipe his feet before proceeding into the inner circles of
+the housers' competition, and there was more than a little curiosity to
+see how far the "resurrected" house would mount.
+
+But not a single soul dreamt that it would reach the final. The whole
+school gasped for a fortnight on end as Biffen's annihilated Dover's,
+Hargen's, Sharpe's, and Merishall's _seriatim_, and at last faced
+Corker's house in the final. This was a resurrected house with a
+vengeance! Corker's had had a bye in the first round and had been drawn
+against rather rickety houses since, but they were generally fancied to
+pull off the final as usual, for Bourne was captain, and they had Hodgson
+and Roberts of the eleven as well. The wonderful progress of Biffen's had
+thrown an awful lot of excitement into the game.
+
+The match was fixed for the last Saturday in the term, and the result of
+the Perry Exhibition was to be announced on the evening of the same day,
+so the last Saturday was going to be the memorable day of the Michaelmas
+stretch.
+
+If you want a full account of the match you had better write to the editor
+of _The Amorian_. He will send you the magazine with a page or so of
+description and account, but all I'm going to say is that Bourne and Acton
+played as they had never played before--I think I've said that before
+about Acton, but he really was superlative in the housers' final--and that
+five minutes from time the score was "one all." Then Acton showed the
+school a stroke of genius. He brought Raven out from centre-forward, where
+he was quite unable to cope with Bourne, whispered him to go "back" with
+Worcester, and before any one could realize what was happening he was
+playing forward himself. He' was a "lambent flame along the ground" if you
+like. In a second Biffen's were swarming round Roberts in goal, Acton
+passed out to Chalmers, who was ready for the pass, and in a twinkling the
+ball was in the net. From the row you might have imagined the school had
+gone mad.
+
+[Illustration: ACTON JUST REACHED IT WITH HIS HEAD.]
+
+The ball was kicked off again. Almost immediately Acton secured near the
+centre. He dribbled through the ruck of his opponents until he saw Bourne
+upon him. With a smile of triumph upon his lips he gently rolled the
+leather to Chalmers, who was hungrily waiting for the pass out on the
+touch-line. Chalmers waltzed beautifully for the short run almost to the
+corner flag. He steadied himself for one instant after his run, and then
+lifted the ball magnificently into the goal mouth. As the leather was
+skimming past, Acton just reached it with his head and deflected it high
+and dry out of Roberts' reach into the net. It was the supreme effort
+of his splendid game.
+
+Biffen's had won by three goals to one!
+
+They carried Acton off the field in ecstasy, and nearly scared Dame Biffen
+out of her wits by the "whisper" of "cock-house." Well, it certainly was
+unusual.
+
+After tea the whole of St. Amory's crowded into the Speech Room to hear
+the result of the Perry Exhibition. There would not be a fellow away, I
+should fancy, bar the cripples in the hospital, for there was no end of
+excitement. Was this to be another Biffen's triumph? Was Raven of the
+Fifth to beat Hodgson, the chosen of the Sixth, for the Perry? It was not
+to be expected that he would, but when the whisper circled round that
+Acton had '"coached" him in classics it was agreed that perhaps there
+would be another feather in Acton's cap.
+
+The masters were there on the platform in serried ranks, the whole fifty
+of them, from Corker to Pfenning who "does" the music.
+
+Corker, as usual, went straight to the mark, whilst the entire mass of
+fellows kept a death-like silence. "The result of the examination for the
+Perry Exhibition is as follows:--
+
+    1st. Arthur Raven, 672 marks.
+    2nd. Theodore Hodgson, 591 marks.
+    3rd. Augustus Vernon Robert Todd, 114 marks."
+
+Then out broke the usual uproar, "shivering the silence," as some one
+says, "into clamour." We all cheered for Raven, who scored a popular and
+unexpected victory, for why should a Fifth Form fellow beat one of the
+Sixth? Biffen's crowd kept up the cheering until Corker rose again.
+
+"I can heartily congratulate Raven on his success, for his classical
+knowledge was distinctly good. Hodgson I can also congratulate, for his
+papers too were good. As for Augustus Vernon Robert Todd"--we all yelled
+with laughter as Dr. Moore scrambled in hot haste through Todd's awful
+list of names, but were again quiet when he dropped his eye-glasses from
+his eagle's beak, a sure sign he was going to "savage" somebody--"as for
+_his_ performance in this _examination_, I can only regard it as
+a very bad practical joke, or as his _ballon d'essai_ for some
+kindergarten scholarship."
+
+Raven got up from his seat near the door. He was pale to the lips, but his
+voice was clear and unhesitating. "If you please, sir, may I say a word?"
+
+"Eh, what?" said Corker. "Say a word? Oh, certainly."
+
+"I am very glad indeed to hear that I have won the Perry Exhibition. I
+know in my own mind that I could never have beaten my friend Hodgson if I
+had not had Acton's help. I owe the winning of the Exhibition entirely to
+him, for he has read the whole of the classics with me and helped me in
+every way in his power. I cannot thank him enough for all he has done, but
+at least I owe him this open acknowledgment."
+
+Corker looked no end pleased, and turned round and beamed on Biffen, whose
+good-natured easy face shone with pleasure and delight.
+
+"Biffen," said good old Corker, audibly, "your house is fortunate in
+having Acton, and St. Amory such a good amateur coach in classics.
+Cock-house, too, bless me!"
+
+And can you wonder that Biffen's, frenzied with delight, carried Raven and
+Acton shoulder high through the gas-lit streets?
+
+Whilst the Biffenites were thus shouting their way home, one unhappy youth
+hurried to his room feeling as though the moon had fallen out of heaven
+and crushed him--Todd. After that night when he had made the bet with
+Cotton, he had neither worked for the Perry nor yet left it alone, but
+loafed about with Cotton as usual, and piffled with the work for the
+Exhibition. As a last-lap spurt, he had, in the last week or so,
+desperately stuffed himself with cunning tips leading twistingly to
+nowhere. Never had any one faced a serious examination with such a rag-bag
+of tips as Todd, and the examination had found him out with a vengeance.
+As he slunk along to his quarters, Corker's words were buzzing in his ears
+unendingly. "As for Augustus Vernon Robert Todd"--"_ballon
+d'essai_"--"Kindergarten!" Oh! it was a sickener, and how the fellows had
+laughed!
+
+As for his bet with Cotton about cock-house, why, he had, when he saw
+those goals put on at the last moment, felt a cold shiver run down his
+back. He had crawled off the Acres a sick and sorry and miserable wretch.
+Cotton had, being rather riled at his chum's temper for the last month,
+hinted, in unmistakable terms, that the debt was to be paid on return
+after holidays. Todd contemplated the ravishing prospect of the future
+with unmixed feelings. Between the upper and nether millstones of the lost
+Exhibition and the lost bet he had been crashed, annihilated!
+
+When he had shut the study door, in sheer despair of spirit, he laid his
+head on the table and--Well, did he blub? All I know is, the Rev. E.
+Taylor knocked at the door once, twice, thrice, and Todd heard him not.
+The house master came in and surveyed the bowed form of poor Gus with a
+good-natured smile, tempered with some scorn. He took the liberty of
+loudly poking Gus's decaying fire, whereat the young gentleman sprang up
+instanter.
+
+"I knocked, Todd, but I suppose you were thinking too deeply to hear me."
+
+"Sorry, sir," said Gus, hurriedly getting the master a chair, "and, as a
+matter of fact, I was thinking."
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"What an awful ass I've been, sir!" "I don't know quite about the ass, but
+you've certainly not been an epitome of all that's wise this term. It was
+on that very subject that I came here to have a word with you before we go
+for the holidays."
+
+Gus looked blankly into the grate.
+
+"This exhibition of yours, Todd, in the examination is just the answer you
+might expect to the problem you've set yourself. 'How can I get something
+of value by doing nothing for it?' I must say... etc." Taylor spoke very
+much to the point to Todd for about half an hour, taking the ribs out of
+Gus's conceit one by one, until he felt very much like a damp, damaged
+gamp, and about as helpless. One by one he took him through the catalogue
+of the aimless, stupid, footling performances in the term, and Gus blankly
+wondered how the dickens Taylor knew quite so much of his doings, He felt
+that the house master was not a bad imitation of Corker on a flaying
+expedition. I must say that Taylor's performance was a considerable trifle
+above the average "beak's wigging," but the sting of his discourse was in
+the tail. "Now, Todd, would you like me to ask Dr. Moore to transfer you
+to some other house, where your very intimate friends will not absorb so
+much of your time?"
+
+Todd blushed purple at this very broad hint.
+
+"I'd rather stay where I am; I am not quite an incapable, sir."
+
+"No; I don't think you are--not quite. Dr. Moore, however, is somewhat out
+of patience with you, and proposes drastic measures."
+
+"Home?" inquired Todd, with gloomy conviction.
+
+"Yes," said the house master. "Dr. Moore has written your father. But you
+are coming back next term, when you will have the chance of showing that
+that awful performance in the Exhibition is not your true form. I hope
+you'll take it."
+
+Todd said bitterly, "I will, sir."
+
+"I am glad of that," said Taylor, "and I believe you will. Good night,
+Todd."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Todd packed up his portmanteaux that night as gloomily and as savagely as
+though his shirts were his deadly enemies. But there was a square,
+determined thrust-out of his weak chin which boded ill for Jim Cotton's
+classics and mathematics in the future.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+BIFFEN'S CONCERT
+
+
+It was the inalienable right of the juniors of the cock-house to give a
+concert the last night of the term, and to have free and undisputed
+possession of the concert-room. Corker made it a rule that the captain of
+the school should be there to see there were no riots, which, as the fags
+were off home on the morrow, was more than possible. So when I got a
+polite note from Grim about half an hour after the results of the Perry
+Exhibition had been announced, telling me that Corker had given the
+customary consent, I strolled about looking up a cohort of monitors to
+help me in maintaining the "sacred cause of order and decency." I knew of
+old those junior concerts. "Pandemonium" was nearer the word.
+
+Biffen's juniors, red-hot from their exertions and hoarse from their
+shouting in the speech-room, held a meeting in their own private quarters
+to deliberate as to their concert.
+
+"I vote Father Grim to the chair," said Wilson.
+
+"Thanks, my son," said Grim, with alacrity "Somebody second that, and
+let's get to business."
+
+Somebody obligingly seconded, and Grim enthroned himself with dignity in
+the chair, and said cheerfully, "Carried _nem. con._ That's the way
+to commence biz. Now, you fellows, I thank you for this unexpected honour,
+which has quite taken me by surprise. I shall always--"
+
+"Shut up, Grim," said Brown. "You know jolly well you asked Wilson to
+propose you."
+
+"All right, Brown; I'll talk with you afterwards. Sorry your Roman nose is
+out of joint; but nobody proposed you, you know, so shut up. Gentlemen--"
+
+"Hear, hear!"
+
+"Biffen's are cock-house at last" (deafening cheers) "and we must make our
+concert a stunner. It must go with a bang from start to finish. It must
+lick every other fag's concert that ever was, and 'be the bright harbinger
+of--' What is the rest of the quote, Wilson?"
+
+"'Of future joys,' you ass."
+
+"'Of future joys,' you asses."
+
+"I'll punch your head, Grim; you said you remembered it."
+
+"All serene, old man, never mind the cackle."
+
+"What about our concert?" asked Brown.
+
+"It's going to be great. Does any one happen to have a programme of that
+awful performance of Corker's house last year?"
+
+"Rather!" said half a dozen of Biffen's ornaments. "Did you think we'd
+burn a curiosity like that?"
+
+"Cut out and get yours, Rogers, my pet."
+
+"My pet" bolted and came back with the year-old programme of the Corker's
+fags.
+
+"Pass the abomination this way, Rogers. Gentlemen," said Grim, with
+intense scorn, "those unspeakable Corker asses started off with a
+prologue."
+
+"We must go one better--eh, you fellows?" said Rogers.
+
+"Rather!" they all shrieked.
+
+"I vote," said young Cherry, "that we lead off with an epilogue. That will
+leave 'em standing."
+
+"Hear, hear!" said Fruity.
+
+"Who'll second that?" said Grim.
+
+"I will," said Rogers, cheerfully.
+
+"Then do it, you ass," said the chairman.
+
+"I second," said Rogers, hurriedly, "and you needn't be so beastly strict,
+Grim."
+
+"Gentlemen, the proposal before the meeting is that we lead off with an
+epilogue. Item number one on the programme to be 'An Epilogue.' Those in
+favour signify. Carried unanimously."
+
+"I say, Grim, what is an epilogue, anyhow?" said a voice.
+
+"Oh, I say," said the chairman, "pass that young ignoramus this way. Lamb,
+do you mean to say you don't know what an epilogue is?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"This is sickening," said Grim, with disgust. "A fellow in Biffen's not
+know what an epilogue is! Tell him, Fruity," he added, with pathetic
+vexation.
+
+"He asked you," said Cherry, hurriedly.
+
+"I'm the chairman," said Grim, in a wax, but with great relief. "Explain
+away, Fruity!"
+
+"Oh, every first-class concert starts with one," he said vaguely.
+
+"See now, Lamb?"
+
+Lamb professed himself satisfied, but he did not appear absolutely blinded
+by the light either.
+
+"Anyhow," said Wilson, "Fruity will see to that. I propose he does."
+
+"I second it," said Lamb, viciously, whereupon Cherry kicked the seconder
+on the shins, for he did not exactly thirst for that honour. "I'm an
+ass," he said to himself; "but, anyhow, I'll look up what the blessed word
+does mean, and try to do it."
+
+"I see," said Grim, "they've got a poem on 'Cock House' for number two.
+That seems all right, eh?"
+
+"Oh yes; it's always done."
+
+"Well, we'll have one too, eh? Who's got to do the poetry, though?
+Somebody propose somebody"--thereupon every fag proposed his chiefest
+enemy, and the battles raged along the line. "And you call yourselves
+gentlemen!" said Grim in disgust--he had been overlooked for the time
+being.
+
+"I propose Sharpe," said Wilson, dusting himself. "He does no end swell
+construes from 'Ovid.'"
+
+"I second that," said Rogers. "He has long hair. Poets always have. Milton
+had."
+
+"That bit is _side,_" said the chairman, judicially. "Those who are
+in favour of Sharpe doing the poetry hold--Carried, _nem. con._"
+
+"_Nem. con_. is side too, Grim," said Rogers.
+
+"Shut up, you mule! Sharpe, you'll have to do the poem."
+
+"I say, you fellows, it will be horse work," said Sharpe, disconsolately.
+"There isn't a rhyme to Biffen's."
+
+"Oh! isn't there? What about 'spiffing'?"
+
+Sharpe choked.
+
+"Griffin."
+
+"Tiffin."
+
+Lamb squeaked out "stiff 'un," and some one gently led him out--even
+Biffen's fags caved in at that.
+
+"Sharpe, you're booked for number two, old man. Gentlemen, I direct your
+attention to number three--Corker's did Indian clubs and the gold-fish
+dodge."
+
+"Oh, well," said Wilson, "we're not going to copy Corker's, anyhow. Let's
+do dumb-bells and something else."
+
+"I propose that Wilson does the something else," said Cherry,
+good-naturedly.
+
+Wilson said he was ready to do something to Cherry any time that was
+convenient. Rogers suggested that they ask the niggers to do something on
+the bars, and Sharpe seconded it, so the dervishes were written to and
+promised a scragging if they didn't turn themselves inside out for the
+glory of Biffen's concert.
+
+"I say, you fellows," said Grim, "it's to be a concert, you know, and
+except for Fruity's epilogue there isn't any music down yet." Cherry
+groaned to think he'd been let in for a song.
+
+"What about Thurston?" asked half a dozen of the fags.
+
+"Right, oh! Now, 'Dicky Bird,' hop up to the front, and trot out your
+list."
+
+Thurston wasn't shy, and rather fancied his bleat, so he said, "Oh! I
+don't mind at all."
+
+"We thought you wouldn't," said the chairman, winking.
+
+"What do you say to 'Alice, where art thou'?"
+
+"We don't fancy your shouting five minutes for her at all. Next, please."
+
+"'Only to see her face again,' then?"
+
+"Whose?" said Sharpe, irreverently.
+
+"Why, the girl's the fellow is singing about," said Thurston, hotly.
+
+"Oh! you'll see her the day after to-morrow, Dicky Bird, so don't you fret
+about that now. Do you know 'My first cigar'?"
+
+"Do you mean the one that sent you to hospital, Grimmy?"
+
+"No I don't. None of your cheek. I'm chairman. I mean the one Corney Grain
+used to sing."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, you sing that and you'll make the fellows die with laughing. And
+mind you illustrate it with plenty of life-like pantomime, do you hear?"
+
+"Carried, _nem. con_.," shouted all the fags with enthusiasm.
+
+"Hear, hear, Grimmy!"
+
+"So that's settled for you, and if you get an encore, Dicky Bird, you can
+trot 'Alice' out if you like."
+
+"Which of the fellows have we to invite out of the eleven to help us?"
+
+"Acton," was the universal yell.
+
+"We'll see him, then, to-night."
+
+"Three cheers for Acton," said someone, and the roof echoed.
+
+"Well, we're getting on, and I say, you chaps, I have an idea."
+
+"Hear, hear!" said Cherry, acidly; "Grimmy _has_ an idea."
+
+"A grand idea, Fruity. Your epilogue isn't in it."
+
+"What is it, Grim?"
+
+"We'll have a boxing competition open to St. Amory's juniors only. Rogers
+should pull that off, eh?"
+
+"Rather," said they all. "One more feather in Biffen's cap.".
+
+"But, Grimmy," said Rogers, "I don't last, you know."
+
+"Ah!" said the chairman, brilliantly, "we'll only have one two-minutes'
+round each draw. It will go by points. You're safe as a house, my pet,
+really."
+
+"Who'll be judge about points? I propose you, Grim," said Rogers, with
+intent.
+
+"Thanks, old cock, but I really couldn't do the honourable if you were
+'rocky' in the last rounds. We'll ask Carr to see us through that part.
+You'll be all right, I tell you."
+
+"Who's to accompany on the P and O?"
+
+"Oh, Brown must see to that!"
+
+"I propose Brown key-thumper."
+
+"I second that."
+
+"Carried," said the chair, smartly.
+
+"I say," said Grim, "I propose myself stage manager. I'm the only fellow
+who knows a ha'porth about it."
+
+"A ha'porth is an awful lot; besides, a chairman can't propose himself,"
+said Cherry, revengefully.
+
+"I second the chairman's proposal," said Wilson, backing up his chum.
+
+"Carried, _nem. con_."
+
+"No, I'm hanged if it was!" said Cherry. "You're a fraud, Grimmy."
+
+"All right now, you chaps, the meeting is over. Wilson and I will go up to
+Acton, and see what he'll do for us, and then we'll rough out a swagger
+programme."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE END OF TERM
+
+
+The two worthies, Grim and Wilson, after seeing Acton, began to get out
+their programme. Here it is:--
+
+
+     BIFFEN'S JUNIORS' CONCERT.
+
+     _Cock House, December, 1898._
+
+     (1) Epilogue.
+          B.A.M. CHERRY.
+
+     (2) Poem on the subject of Cock House.
+          B. SHARPE.
+
+     (3) Bar Act.
+
+     (4) First Round Junior Boxing Competition.
+          PRINCE RUNJIT MEHTAH and RAM SINGH.
+
+     (5) SONG. "My First Cigar."
+          R.E. THURSTON.
+
+     (6) PIANOFORTE SOLO. "Oh! listen to the band."
+          O. BROWN.
+
+     (7) Second Round Boxing.
+
+     (8) SONG. "Jim."
+          J. ACTON, ESQ.
+
+     (9) Third and Concluding Rounds Boxing.
+
+     (10) SONG. "Well, suppose you did?"
+          R.E. THURSTON.
+
+          GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.
+
+     ACCOMPANIST           O.E. BROWN.
+     _Trinity College (by Examination)._
+
+     STAGE MANAGER         W.E. GRIM.
+
+     N.B.--The Manager begs to state that there will be no Latin
+     or classical allusions throughout the evening. No waits. No
+     charge for programmes. No antediluvian jokes.
+
+
+This was printed on paper blushing pink--Biffen's colours--and Grim and
+Wilson, when they got the advance proof last thing on Saturday night,
+almost embraced in their jubilation. There was such a swagger look about
+the "N.B."
+
+Meanwhile B.A.M. Cherry had consulted his dictionary, and therein found
+that an "epilogue" was defined as "a concluding speech in an oration or
+play." He broke into a cold sweat of horror. That was an epilogue, then!
+Where could he find one? What would be the good of one if he did find it?
+And supposing he had one and could recite it, it was at the wrong end of
+the programme--the programme which had already been printed in such hot
+haste? It was too late to tell Grim, who would have instantly summoned all
+the strength of Biffen's to scrag him. The wretched Cherry shuddered at
+his awful plight.
+
+Nothing could he do or dare he do. In desperation he determined to fall
+ill on the concert night. B.A.M. Cherry hadn't the heroic soul, and when
+Grim asked him cheerfully how the epilogue was going on, he said
+"spiffing," in the tone of a martyr at the stake.
+
+On the Monday Grim scuttled about all day--now on the stage, listening to
+Thurston going over his songs with Brown, now getting entries for his
+boxing competition, now encouraging Sharpe, who was in the throes of
+composition, and now criticizing the Dervishes with much force. Acton put
+in an appearance in the concert-room, and gave Brown the accompaniment to
+"Jim;" and, after hearing him play it through, went and read his novel the
+rest of his spare time.
+
+At 7.30 the juniors of St. Amory's began to stroll in, Biffen's lot
+collaring the front seats as per custom. The programmes were distributed
+to each one as he came in, and created no end of sensation, and W.E. Grim
+was allowed to have come out very strong in the programme line. St.
+Amory's fags did not spot anything wrong about item one, but the older
+fellows chuckled a little and said "the manager was a funny ass." This
+opinion was instantly conveyed to Grim by one of his cronies, and made
+that young gentleman think himself no end of a sly dog.
+
+Punctually to the minute Grim rang his bell, and, darting into the
+dressing-room, said, "Now, Cherry, come along with your epilogue, They're
+all waiting. Where is that ass?"
+
+"Cherry has not turned up yet, Grim."
+
+"What?" he said in horror.
+
+"Not turned up yet!"
+
+"I'll go and fetch the beggar at once."
+
+Grim darted out of the room, tore along the street, and was hammering at
+Cherry's door within the minute.
+
+"Fruity, hurry up, they're all waiting."
+
+"I'm not well, Grim."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I'm not well--I'm in bed."
+
+"You miserable beast!" shouted Grim. "I'll massacre you. You'll make us
+the laughing stock of the whole school. Get up, man, Be a man."
+
+"I'm ill," moaned Cherry from within.
+
+"You miserable beast! You'll be dead to-morrow." He shook the door
+violently, but Cherry was not quite the utter fool Grim took him for, for
+he had locked the door. Grim stood outside on the corridor for some
+seconds, petrified with rage and disgust, and then flew like a madman back
+to the concert-room. He cannoned up against some one leisurely strolling
+up to the dressing-room, and was darting on again _sans_ apology. A
+hand gently closed upon his collar and pulled him back.
+
+"Hallo, young shaver! Little boys used to apologize when they--Why,
+it's Grim! What in the name----"
+
+Grim, almost blubbing with anger and shame, poured out his tale, and Acton
+listened with an amused smile. "Sheer funk, Grim. Well, go on, and tell
+'em their Cherry has rotted, but that I'll come and tell 'em a little tale
+instead."
+
+Grim would have embraced Acton if he'd been a little taller, but he
+gurgled, "Acton, you _are_ a brick," and darted on to the stage.
+
+He was received with deafening cheers, and shrieks of "No waits!"
+"Manager!" "Don't hurry, Grim!" "We'll send out for supper!" "We want
+Cherry!" "Go off," etc.
+
+When Grim could get a word in he panted, "Gentlemen, I am sorry to say
+B.A.M. Cherry is indisposed and cannot favour you with the epilogue."
+
+"Funked it!" roared all the delighted juniors.
+
+"He says he is unwell," said Grim, anger getting the better of him, "but
+he'll be a jolly sight worse in the morning."
+
+There was a hurricane of thunderous cheers at this sally, but Grim managed
+to shout above the laughing, "I have great pleasure in announcing that
+John Acton, Esq., will take Fruity's--I mean Cherry's--place and tell you
+a little tale; even Corker fags will understand it," added Grim,
+viciously.
+
+Acton came on and received his hearty welcome with easy good nature. He
+plunged right into his contribution: "A London cabby's account of his
+different fares"--from the double-superfine gilt-edged individual to the
+fat old dowager who _will_ have the parrot inside with her. Acton
+gave it perfectly. Grim, who had his ears glued to the exit door, vowed he
+could almost hear the swell drop his eyeglass.
+
+Sharpe stepped on to the stage amid the polite attentions of his natural
+enemies. "Be a man, Sharpe." "Don't cry." "You'll see mamma soon." "Speak
+up." "He did it all alone, remember." "No help." "Oh, dear no!"
+
+     "When on the bosom of the sleeping pool,
+     That's shaded o'er by trees in greenest dress,
+     Upon its breast of snow its gem of gold
+     The water lily swims--"
+
+The juniors howled with dismay at this commencement, and Corker juniors
+instantly began to keep time to Sharpe's delivery in the organ-grinder's
+fashion. But Sharpe toiled remorselessly on. He compared Biffen's house to
+a water lily growing in a muddy pond, and again as a Phoenix risen from
+the ashes; and he gave us, with circumstantial details, every round of the
+footer housers, their two eleven caps, and the Perry Exhibition, and
+darkly hinted at Acton's exclusion from the eleven.
+
+He wound up his awful farrago in one glorious burst of solemn fury--
+
+     "And even Fate girds on her sword, and her right arm she stiffens,
+     As thunders to the icy pole the glorious name of Biffen's."
+
+When Sharpe finally made his bow, according to the invariable custom,
+every junior except a Biffenite imitated with rare fidelity the mixed
+sensations of channel passengers after a stormy passage.
+
+Sharpe, cheered to the echo by the Biffenites on the front row, went
+proudly off.
+
+The Dervishes were received with enthusiasm, and went through their
+performance to the shouts of "Well wriggled, Java!" "Why don't you oil!"
+"Do it again--orang-outang!" They amiably smiled acknowledgments as they
+backed away.
+
+Then I myself stepped on to the stage, prepared to judge the two-minutes'
+rounds. Grim had whipped up sixteen fags, each willing to do battle for
+the honour of his house. The rounds proceeded to the accompaniment of
+ear-splitting encouragement, and I had the satisfaction of knowing that
+not a solitary one of the defeated heroes thought he had really been
+beaten on points.
+
+No mistake about it, Biffen's had a fag who could sing. Thurston's "My
+First Cigar" only lacked one thing--it should have lasted a little longer
+to suit the audience.
+
+  "She called it an Intimidad,
+    It had spots of a yellowish hue,
+  She said the best brands always had,
+    And I firmly believed it was true."
+
+A good number of the fellows knew "The Soldiers in the Park," and Brown
+hammered it out in a good old breezy style.
+
+As he was racing home, and the jolly chorus was crashing out from the
+piano, one fag started "Oh, listen to the band!"
+
+Instantly the whole school, juniors and seniors as well, joined in the
+chorus, keeping time with their feet.
+
+  "Oh, listen to the band!
+  Who doesn't love to hark
+    To the shout of 'Here they come'
+    And the banging of the drum--
+  Oh, listen to the soldiers in the park."
+
+When the dust had settled, every one acknowledged that Biffen's concert
+was going with a bang. I am not going to bore you with a longer account of
+Biffen's concert. Thurston sang "Alice, where art thou?" the fellows
+telling him between the verses that "She wasn't going to come," "Spoony
+songs barred," etc., and Rogers carried off the fags' boxing competition
+with a big rush in the final round, and Biffen's crew howled with delight.
+
+Finally the bell rang for Acton's song. Brown rattled through the
+preliminary bars, and the song commenced. The singer held himself slightly
+forward, in a rather stiff and awkward fashion, and his eyes were staring
+intently into vacancy. There was not the shadow of a shade of any
+expression in his face. A feeling of pity for Acton was the universal
+sensation when the first words fell from his lips. Acton had not the ghost
+of a singing voice, and the school shuddered at the awful exhibition.
+There was an icy silence, but Acton croaked remorselessly on. This is the
+song:--
+
+  "Jim and I as children played together,
+    Best of chums for many years were we;
+  I had no luck--was, alas! a Jonah;
+    Jim, my chum, was lucky as could be.
+      Oh, lucky Jim! How I envied him!
+
+  "Years rolled by, and death took Jim away, boys,
+    Left his widow, and she married me;
+  Now we're married oft I think of Jim, boys,
+    Sleeping in that churchyard by the sea.
+      Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy him!"
+
+As the words followed on there was a suggestion of oddity in that awful
+voice singing a comic song, and there were a few suppressed laughs at the
+idea. As the song progressed, the utter dreary weariness of the voice, and
+the rather funny words, compelled the fellows to laugh in uncontrollable
+bursts; but still Acton never turned a hair. When he arrived at the
+churchyard lines there was one universal howl of delight. Brown stopped
+dead at the end of the second last line, and Acton stopped dead too.
+Instantly all the fellows became as mute as fish. The singer straightened
+himself up, looked round the room with a mocking smile while one might
+count a dozen, and then winked to Brown, who recommenced softly on the
+piano. Then Acton _sang_ slowly and deliberately--sang with a voice
+as clear and as tunable as a silver bell--
+
+  "Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy him!"
+
+His croak was a pretence--he had hoaxed us all! Before we recovered from
+our stupefaction he had vanished. The school clamoured for his return,
+but though they cheered for three minutes on end Acton did not reappear,
+and Brown struck up "God save the Queen!" Biffen's concert was at an end!
+
+Grim held a five minutes' meeting among the Biffenites before bed.
+
+"There's never been a fellow like Acton in St. Amory's. He goes away at
+nine to-morrow. The Great Midland are going to stop their express to pick
+up St. Amory fellows, and Acton goes up to his place by that. I vote we
+all go in a body to the station and cheer him off. We keep it dark, of
+course." This _staccato_ oration was agreed to with acclamation, and
+Biffenites went to bed happy.
+
+On the morrow Acton strolled into the station and espied the Biffenites,
+who were scattered up and down the platform with careful carelessness.
+The train came in, and at once the juniors crowded _en masse_ round
+the carriage in which Acton had secured a corner seat, and stood talking
+to Grim, who was in fine feather.
+
+At that very moment Phil Bourne and young Jack Bourne bustled into the
+station. An idea struck Rogers, and he said to all his chums, "Here's
+Bourne, you fellows; let him know we see him."
+
+The fags were delighted, and when Bourne entered the carriage next
+Acton's there was a long-drawn-out hoot for his especial benefit.
+
+"Another," said Rogers, whereat more soulful groans.
+
+"The last," said Rogers, and Bourne took his seat to a chorus of hisses
+and tortured howls. He smiled a little and opened his paper, while the
+people in the carriage looked curiously at him.
+
+The guard's whistle went and Acton sprang in. "Good-bye."
+
+As the train moved, Grim said, "Three cheers for Acton!"
+
+"Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
+
+"A groan for Bourne!" Acton smiled good naturedly to his henchmen. As he
+glided past he said to himself softly, "And yet I have not quite hoed all
+my row out either, Bourne. Wait, my friend, wait!"
+
+[Illustration: AS THE TRAIN MOVED, GRIM SAID, "THREE CHEERS!"]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE YOUNG BROTHER
+
+
+When St. Amory's reassembled after the holidays Acton found himself
+firmly established in the good graces of the fellows, and, indeed, he was
+not far from being the most popular fellow in the place, but poor Phil
+was looked coldly upon by those who had been his chiefest friends, and,
+by those who knew little of him, he passed for a jealous bounder. Acton
+played up to his cards in beautiful style, and acted the forgiving
+innocent splendidly; but Phil, who was only a very honest fellow, did not
+play anything to speak of. Those who gave him the cold shoulder once
+never had a second chance of showing it him, for Phil was no end proud;
+but he had still one or two friends, who condoned his passing of Acton
+for the "footer" cap on the ground of "insufficient information" thereon.
+Roberts and Baines and Vercoe were not a bad trio to have for friends
+either. Acton was now in the Sixth, and a monitor.
+
+His main idea was to keep Bourne in the bad books of the school until
+such time as he could direct their ill-favour into channels favourable to
+himself and unfavourable for Phil. A lucky chance seemed to open to him
+an easy method of striking at Bourne, and Acton almost hugged himself
+with joy at his windfall.
+
+About a week after the holidays Acton had been skating on the Marsh, and
+as he was returning he came across Jack Bourne engaged in a desperate
+fight with a young yokel. There was a small crowd of loafers, who were
+delighted at this little turn up, and were loud in their advice to the
+fellow to give "the young swell a good hiding."
+
+This little crowd, as I said, caught Acton's eye, and when he perceived
+that one of the fighters was a St. Amory fellow, he hurried up to see
+what was the little game.
+
+Young Bourne was getting the worst of it. The yokel was a year or two
+older, was taller, and stones heavier. It was an unequal fight. Bourne
+was standing up to his man pluckily, and, thanks to the "agricultural"
+style of the clodhopper, was not taking nearly so much harm as he should
+have done. He was, however, pretty low down in the mouth, for there was
+not a friendly eye to encourage him, nor a friendly shout to back him up.
+On the contrary, the mob howled with delight as their man got "home," and
+encouraged him: "Gow it, Dick! Knock the stuffin' out of 'im!"
+
+Acton had not been noticed, but he thrust himself into the mob, and
+said, "Stand back, you little beggars, or I'll massacre the lot of you.
+Give the boy room, you filthy pigs!" The "pigs" scuttled back, and for
+the first time Bourne really had fair play.
+
+Acton took out his watch and assumed the direction of the fight.
+
+"Time!" he shouted out. "You fellow, that's your corner, and if you stir
+out of it before I give the word I'll thrash you within an inch of your
+life. This will be ours, Bourne." He strode in between the two, and
+pushed the yokel among his friends, whilst he dragged Bourne a little
+apart.
+
+"Thanks awfully, Acton. That beast knocked me off the path into the
+snow-heap when he saw I was one of the school. I struck him, but he's a
+big handful."
+
+"Don't talk, Bourne," said Acton, grimly. "It's only wasting breath. Keep
+cool, man, and you will pull it off yet."
+
+Thanks to Acton's encouragement, young Bourne worked along ever so much
+better, so that when time was called he had taken no damage practically,
+but had scored a little on his own account.
+
+"Sit down on my coat. You're doing famously. Whatever you do, don't let
+him swing you one in the face. You'll be snuffed out if you do. Keep him
+out at any cost, and try an upper cut after he swings. Waste no time
+after he's missed."
+
+But although young Bourne scored no end in the next few rounds by
+following Acton's advice, his good efforts seemed wasted. The lout's face
+was as hard as a butcher's block. Acton saw that Bourne was visibly
+tiring, and that it was an almost foregone conclusion that in the end he
+would be beaten. He could hardly stall off the fellow's attack.
+
+After the seventh round Acton saw that he must put all to the touch, or
+Bourne would lose. "Listen carefully, young 'un. You're jolly game, and
+that's a fact, but there's no good hammering on the fool's face--he can't
+feel. You must try another trick. It's the last in your box, too, Bourne,
+so make no mistake. St. Amory's for ever! When he swings, duck. Don't try
+to ward him off--he'll beat you down. Then, for all you're worth, drive
+home with your left on the jaw. On the jaw for all you're worth. You've
+seen the sergeant do it dozens of times in the gym. Keep cool, and look
+when you hit--on the very peak. Understand?"
+
+"Rather!" said Jack, coolly but wearily.
+
+"Time!"
+
+The yokel came on in all the pride of his beefy strength, for ha knew
+that he was going to finish the "swell" this round. He swung. Bourne
+ducked, and then, quick as lightning, the lad closed in, and, with the
+last ounce he had in him, drove his left on the jaw. He was true to a
+hair.
+
+"_Habet!_" shouted Acton. "Don't give him time, Jack. Send him down
+if you can."
+
+Bourne's "point" had the usual effect; the lout's head swam, he felt sick
+and sorry, and could not even ward off Jack's blows. He backed, Jack
+scoring like mad all the time, and when Acton finally called "time!" he
+dropped on to the ground blubbing. The fellow's eye was visibly swelling,
+his lips were cut, and his nose bled villainously.
+
+[Illustration: ACTON THREW HIM INTO THE SNOW-HEAP.]
+
+"The pig bleeds," said Acton, cheerfully. "You have him now, Bourne; he's
+too sick to have an ounce of fight left in him. Time!"
+
+The next round wasn't a round really; it was a procession, with Bourne,
+as fresh as paint from his success, following up the other blubbing with
+rage, pain, and sickness. Before Acton called, the fellow dropped to the
+ground and howled dismally.
+
+"Get your coat, Jack, and then come here. He's done. Stand back, you
+others."
+
+Jack came back.
+
+"Now, you pig, get up and apologize to this gentleman for having knocked
+him into the snow-heap. I suppose your pig's eyes couldn't see he was
+only half your size." Acton got hold of the fellow by the collar and
+jerked him to his feet. "Apologize."
+
+The fellow would not understand; he snivelled obstinately, and struggled
+aimlessly in Acton's grasp.
+
+"Apologize."
+
+"I wown't."
+
+"Good," said Acton, grimly. With his flat hand he gave the fellow a
+thundering cuff which sent him sprawling. Acton then caught him by the
+scruff of his neck and threw him headlong into the snow-heap.
+
+"Come along, Bourne," he said, with a smile. "You have fought a good
+fight this day, and no mistake. That fellow will have a fit the next and
+every time he sees the smallest St. Amory's fag's cap."
+
+"I say, Acton, you're an awful brick to back me up like that."
+
+"Don't mention it, Bourne. Come and have some tea with me, and I'll pour
+oil into your wounds, or at any rate, I'll paint 'em."
+
+So young Bourne had tea with Acton, and his host went out afterwards to
+Dann's the chemist's and brought back a camel's-hair brush and some
+lotion. Thanks to this, Jack's scars appeared as very honourable wounds
+indeed.
+
+From that day Jack thought Acton the finest fellow in St. Amory's.
+
+"He did not spread-eagle that fool," he said to himself, "but let me have
+the glory of pounding the ugly brute into jelly, and made me go in and
+win when I was ready to give in to the cad. Why did not Phil give him his
+cap? There's something rotten somewhere."
+
+As for Acton, as I said before, he regarded this little incident as a
+treasure trove upon which he could draw almost unlimitedly in his
+campaign against Bourne. "I'll strike at Bourne, senr., through his young
+brother. I'll train him up in the way he should go, and when our
+unspeakable prig of a Philip sees what a beautiful article young Jack
+finally emerges, he'll wish he'd left me alone. Jack, my boy, I'm sorry,
+but I'm going to make you a bad boy, just to give your elder brother
+something to think about. You're going to become a terrible monster of
+iniquity, just to shock your reverend brother."
+
+Acton took not the smallest interest in the usual Easter Term games.
+Footer was only played occasionally, but there was one blessing, the
+fellows need not play the usual Thursday Old Game. As for cross-country
+running, paper chases, _et hoc genus omne_, Acton refused to have
+anything to do with them. "That sort," he said to Dick Worcester, "isn't
+in the same street with footer."
+
+"Why not try and lift the Public School Heavy at Aldershot?" suggested
+Worcester.
+
+"There's Hodgson in for it, Dick."
+
+"A good man; but if you would only apply yourself seriously to the
+business I'd back you. You're a good weight, and got a longer reach than
+Hodgson."
+
+"There's Bourne, too."
+
+"Personally, I believe Phil is only pacing Hodgson to take him along
+quicker."
+
+"It's an awful fag, and I believe Eton have got the Heavy safe and sure
+this year. A cousin of mine there says that their pet, Jarvis, would walk
+right through the best man we've ever turned out."
+
+"Oh, that's their usual brag!"
+
+"Personally, I don't think so. They have got a young Bermondsey
+professor--who is up to all the latest dodges--to coach. Our sergeant is
+a bit old-fashioned--good, but old-fashioned. Does not do enough with his
+right."
+
+"I'm quite an amateur," said Dick. "Don't understand the finer shades of
+the arts. Should have thought the sergeant good enough."
+
+"_Dubito!_ Anyhow, Dick, I'll think it over; and if I think I can
+make a decent show I'll have a shot. When does it come off?"
+
+"At Aldershot? Oh!--last week in March."
+
+"That gives me nearly two months. One can turn round in two months; and
+if I'm satisfied as to my coaching I'll certainly try at Aldershot. But
+what has a fellow to do on the half-holidays now? No footer, and one
+might do enough practice after tea for the Heavy. I wish Kipling would
+write a book every week. He is the only fellow in England who can write."
+
+So Acton, on the half-holidays, prepared to read his novels by his
+fireside. Not that he was particularly fond of toasting himself, but
+because, for him, it was all he could do.
+
+But Corker came to his rescue. The old man, after having had his back to
+the wall for an age, consented to monitors being allowed to cycle by
+themselves, and even to be _chaperon_ to any fags who cared to run
+with them, and--important _proviso_--whom the monitors did not
+object to. Otherwise the old rule of no cycling _sans_ house-master
+was in force.
+
+Acton thereupon invested in a swell machine, and he and young Bourne, or
+Grim, or Wilson on the hired article, would cover no end of country
+between dinner and roll call.
+
+By-and-by Phil noticed that his brother was getting pretty thick with
+Acton.
+
+"Rather thick with Acton, Jack? I don't think he'll do you any good."
+
+"He has, anyhow, Phil."
+
+"How?"
+
+Jack explained.
+
+"I'm glad you licked the animal, young 'un; but, all the same, I wish
+some other fellow had seen you through."
+
+"I don't!" said Jack, hotly.
+
+"I wonder," said Phil, dryly, "what is the great attraction which a Sixth
+Form fellow sees in a fag? Above all, a fag of the name of Bourne?"
+
+"Fact is, I don't see it myself," said Jack, shortly. "Better ask him."
+
+"No, I don't think I shall. All the same, I would not dog Acton's
+footsteps quite so much."
+
+"He's a monitor."
+
+"Who'll make you useful. Take my word for it."
+
+"We'll see."
+
+"Oh! Certainly we shall."
+
+Jack was thoroughly unhinged by his brother's dry bantering tone, and
+said hotly--
+
+"I cannot understand, Phil, why he didn't get his cap. He deserved it."
+
+"There's no need for you to understand it, young 'un."
+
+"My opinion is----"
+
+"Not worth the breath you're going to waste."
+
+"It's considered a shame pretty generally."
+
+"I've heard so; but, still, that does not alter matters. However, I did
+not want to talk politics with you, Jack. Don't put your innocent little
+toes into any scrape--that is all I wanted to tell you. Here is half a
+crown for you to buy butterscotch, and while you're sucking it think over
+what I've said. What! Little boys given up toffee? Then I'd better say
+good night, Jack." Jack went out pretty sore.
+
+About a week or so after this, Acton and young Bourne sped down to the
+old Lodestone Farm, and as they pedalled in at the gate young Hill, the
+farmer's son, said to Acton--
+
+"The man's been here since twelve, sir."
+
+"That's all right," said Acton. "Has he got the stable ready?"
+
+"He's been putting it to rights the last hour."
+
+"I say, Bourne," said Acton, turning to Jack, "ever heard of the Alabama
+Coon?"
+
+"The fellow who won that fight in Holland? The prize-fighter?"
+
+"The very same."
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"Well, I've engaged him to give me a few lessons here. I'm going to try
+for the Heavy at Aldershot. Like to see the fun?"
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"Then come along."
+
+Together they went into the stable, and therein found "The Coon," a
+coal-black negro, busily shovelling sand upon the floor, smoking an
+enormous cigar the while.
+
+"Making ready the cockpit," said Acton to Jack, who was staring open-eyed
+at the worker. "Lusty looking animal, eh?"
+
+"My aunt!" said Jack.
+
+"Hallo, Coon, you're about ready!"
+
+"Yaas, sir," said the negro. "I'm almost through."
+
+"Brought the mittens with you, too?"
+
+"Yaas, sir, I have the feather beds."
+
+"Then when you've peeled we'll start."
+
+The Coon put down his spade and slipped behind a stall.
+
+"You see, young 'un, the sergeant at the gym is a good old hand, but he
+is an old hand, so to speak--hasn't got the polish. Seeing that at
+Aldershot they tie us down to a very few rounds, if St. Amory's have to
+make any show at all they must get all the points they can first round or
+so. That's why I've got the Coon down here. He is the most scientific
+boxer we have."
+
+"The figure will be pretty stiff, Acton, eh?"
+
+"No matter about that if I can beat Jarvis. By the way, Bourne, you need
+not say anything about this to any one. I have particular reasons for
+keeping this quiet."
+
+"All serene. I'm mum, of course."
+
+"Thanks. You watch the Coon, and you'll pick up no end of wrinkles."
+
+The Coon came out from behind the stall dressed in a vest, trousers, and
+thin boots; his black arms were bare, and he had exchanged his cigar for
+a straw, which he chewed vigorously. Acton changed his shoes and took off
+his coat, and the lesson began.
+
+Acton's opinion of the Coon's knowledge was, in Jack's mind, absolutely
+corroborated by the display. His marvellous parrying of Acton's
+attentions; his short step inwards, which invariably followed a mis-hit
+by Acton; his baits to lure his opponent to deliver himself a gift into
+his hands; his incredible ducking and lightning returns, held Bourne
+fascinated. Everything was done so easily, so lithely, so lightly, and so
+surely, that Jack gasped in admiration. Acton in the hands of the nigger
+was a lamb indeed.
+
+"This is an eye-opener," said Jack. "I'll try that left feint on Rogers,
+the cocky ass!"
+
+The negro stopped now and then to show Acton where and how to avail
+himself of opportunities; and Acton, who was in grim earnest, applied
+himself whole-heartedly to the business in hand, and, in consequence, as
+Jack afterwards told us, "you could almost hear old Acton travelling on
+the right road."
+
+After about half an hour of instruction, Acton said--
+
+"That is enough of jawing for the afternoon, Coon. Let us have three
+rounds to finish up with. Take the time, young 'un."
+
+Jack, with immense pride, took out his watch and prepared to act as
+timekeeper.
+
+"Better take it easily first two, sir, and put in all you know for the
+last. A little hurricane in the third round is my advice."
+
+Jack had an ecstatic ten minutes, the final round putting him in the
+seventh heaven of enjoyment.
+
+"All I could make out was Acton's white arms mixed with Alabama's black
+ones, and the sand flying in all directions. Stunning isn't the word for
+it!"
+
+As Acton and young Bourne pedalled leisurely home for roll call, Jack
+said--
+
+"I think Jarvis' chance of collaring the Heavy for his place is a trifle
+'rocky.'"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Crumbs! How Alabama does get home!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+TODD PAYS THE BILL
+
+
+Another youth had come back to St. Amory's with resolutions as fixed and
+steady, though more legitimate than Acton's. Augustus Vernon Robert Todd
+returned to school with pockets more scantily lined than ever from the
+parental source, with his mind constantly fixed on the conversation which
+he had had with his house-master on that awful concluding day last term,
+and his chin still thrust out valiantly. Gus's square chin meant an
+undeviating attention to serious study, and Gus, armed _cap-a-pie_,
+against all his old friends.
+
+For Todd had taken his precautions. His watch--a gold one, "jewelled in
+numberless holes," as its owner pathetically remarked--had been left with
+the family jeweller for three bright golden sovereigns, an eight-and-six
+brass turnip, which went jolly well, although its tick was a trifle
+vigorous under Gus's pillow, and an agreement. This document, drawn up by
+himself, Gus regarded as a very masterpiece of business-like acumen. Gus
+could have his gold watch back again within the year by paying three
+sovereigns, and buying the brass turnip for half a sovereign, the profit
+accruing on this latter transaction being, as Gus explained proudly, the
+jeweller's percentage on the loan. The family jeweller had informed Gus
+casually that he couldn't keep a wife and growing family on such
+percentages, but to oblige, etc.
+
+Todd received Mr. James Cotton blandly and politely, and Jim, in his
+heavy way, mistook this airiness for non-paying symptoms on Gus's part.
+
+"Had a good time, old cock, during the holidays?"
+
+"Beastly," said Gus.
+
+"Governor rusty?"
+
+"No end. Been making the will again, and leaving me out."
+
+"Perry _fiasco_, eh?"
+
+"Yes, and other things."
+
+"Well, I hope you can pay up all you owe me, old chap."
+
+"Oh yes!" said Gus. "I said I would keep my word, although you were so
+good as to have your doubts."
+
+"All right, glad you can manage it."
+
+"Here you are," said Gus, thrusting his hand into his pocket and bringing
+up his coins. "Three three for that rotten bet, and the other fifteen bob
+I owed you. It's all there."
+
+Cotton opened his eyes.
+
+"You said the governor was rusty, Gus?"
+
+"So he was, beastly; but I can pay you all the same."
+
+"Well," said Cotton, after a little awkward pause, "I don't want to clean
+you out quite, so pay half now and the rest next term. Would that suit
+you better, Gus?"
+
+"Thanks, I don't mind," said Gus, airily. "Here's half, then."
+
+Cotton left his friend's room considerably puzzled, but when he came next
+night with his books for his old jackal's attentions as before, he was
+more than puzzled, for Gus said--
+
+"Can give you half an hour, Jim."
+
+"We won't be able to screw up enough for Merishall in that time, old
+man."
+
+"Then you'll have to do the rest yourself, Jim. I'm not going to piffle
+about any more."
+
+"Oh, don't be an ass, Gus! I've heard that footle before," said Cotton,
+with his heavy selfishness.
+
+"Not quite, for this time I mean what I say."
+
+"Oh no, you don't!"
+
+"Oh yes, I do!"
+
+"You wouldn't leave a fellow in the lurch like this, after all I--"
+
+"I was left in the lurch last term, Jim, dear, and I'd rather you had a
+taste of it this go. Do you remember when old Corker was savaging me
+before all the school!"
+
+The ghost of a smile flitted over Cotton's lips as he said--
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"The entire school, from the meanest fag up to Carr, was laughing at me,
+and, by Jove! Jim, your laugh was the loudest and longest."
+
+"It was your tips I was thinking of, and Corker's frothing through your
+list of names," said Cotton, apologetically.
+
+"All right," said Todd, acidly. "If you had left me alone I wouldn't have
+wanted those tips, and as for my names, I did not christen myself. If you
+want half an hour to shake out your work roughly I'll do it, but I can't
+do more, Jim, honour bright."
+
+"I don't want _that_!" said Cotton, angrily, gathering up his
+books.
+
+"Am deucedly glad you don't. And here, Jim, is the other half of the
+money. Since I'm not obliging you in any way, why should you me?"
+
+"You're logical, Todd, at any rate," said Jim, with half a sneer.
+
+"Didn't know you could spot logic when you heard it, Cotton," said Gus,
+with an equal amount of acid, and yet good-naturedly too.
+
+"I suppose I clean you out?"
+
+"You do. I've got a shilling to look at when you've taken up that heap."
+
+"Is that your last word?"
+
+"It is, but there's no need to quarrel--we're as we were before I began
+to take your hire, Jim."
+
+"Not quite," said Cotton, who was hit by Gus's decision. "I'll leave you
+to your odd shilling and your forsaken tips."
+
+He stumped off to his own room, and called Todd pet names till bedtime.
+What made Cotton so angry was that, deep down in his own mind, he knew
+that Gus was about to do a sensible and a manly thing, and just because
+he himself was going to suffer by it he had not moral courage enough to
+speak out openly his better mind.
+
+But Gus, smiling at Cotton's bad temper, took out his books, drew up a
+scheme for study, bolted his door, and commenced to work. He slacked off
+when the bell went half an hour before lights out, and spent the time
+left him in boring a hole in his solitary shilling. He then slipped it on
+his watch-guard, prepared boldly to face a term of ten weeks without a
+stiver.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+RAFFLES OF ROTHERHITHE
+
+
+Twice a week, on half-holidays, Acton and Bourne ran over to the farm, to
+find the Coon waiting for them in the stable, smoking an enormous cigar
+as usual, and reading sporting papers on the corn-chest. Young Hill, the
+farmer's son, generally put in an appearance when the boxing was about
+over, and to Jack's utter disgust, plainly showed that he would rather
+that Jack was anywhere else than with Acton when the gloves had been laid
+aside. He seemed to have some business with Acton concerning which he
+evidently did not want Jack to hear a single syllable.
+
+Jack did not quite see at first that he was one too many after the boxing
+was over, and that Hill, at any rate, did not mean there should be a
+fourth to the deliberations of himself, Acton, and the Coon. Jack,
+however, soon tumbled that he was _de trop_, and the minute young
+Hill came in Jack would stalk solemnly and formally out of the stable and
+kick up his heels in the farmyard until such time as Acton should be
+ready for the run to school.
+
+Jack certainly did not like this cavalier treatment, but found it rather
+a bore pottering about the yard, "looking at the beastly ducks;" but
+Acton was so profusely apologetic when he did come out that Jack
+generally smoothed his ruffled plumes and pedalled home at peace with
+himself and all the world.
+
+"The fact is, Jack," said Acton, "young Hill has arranged for me to have
+the stable for our practice, for old Hill himself was rather against it,
+and as he has a prejudice against St. Amory fellows generally, but
+especially when they're of the Junior School--some of your tribe scuttled
+his punt for him on the moat, didn't you?--I thought you would not mind
+humouring the man's amiabilities. The Coon and he talk rot--sporting
+rot--and it would only bore you to listen to it."
+
+Jack said, "It does not matter in the least. I'd as soon look at the
+ducks as listen to Hill. It's a bit _infra dig._, though, that _he_
+should object."
+
+As a matter of fact, young Hill received letters for Acton which dealt
+with many things, the burden of most of them being "betting," and the
+other sweet things of the sporting shop. Acton was, as you will have
+seen, not the very green innocent who would come to much harm in this
+lovely form of diversion.
+
+[Illustration: A LITTLE YELLOW, EAR-TORN DOG BUSTLED OUT OF SOME SHED.]
+
+About a fortnight after the visits to the Lodestone had commenced, the
+Coon brought down with him a long-legged, thin-faced, horsey-looking
+individual, who introduced himself to Bourne as Raffles of Rotherhithe,
+and who laid himself out to be excessively friendly to Jack. He took,
+evidently, quite a professional interest in the sparring, and told Acton
+that "his left was quite a colourable imitation of the Coon's."
+
+"Not colourable, anyhow," said Acton, with a wink at Jack.
+
+"What do you think, sir, of Alabama's 'blind hook'?"
+
+Jack, who had not the remotest idea what a "blind hook" was, said it "was
+simply stunning."
+
+"Exactly my idea, sir. I see you know above a bit about the noble art."
+
+Raffles, as he would have said in his own special slang, worked the
+"friendly lay" so well upon Jack, that that young gentleman was captured
+to the last gun; you can do an awful lot of execution by deferring to the
+opinion of a young man of sixteen, or thereabouts, as to the merit of
+relying exclusively on the left.
+
+When the sparring was over, Raffles shuffled out with Jack into the yard
+and whistled. A little yellow, ear-torn dog bustled out of some shed and
+trotted demurely by Mr. Raffles' right boot.
+
+"See that dog, Mr. Bourne?"
+
+"By the way, Raffles, how did you know my name was Bourne?" asked Jack.
+
+"Mr. Acting mentioned that it was so. No offence, I hope, sir?"
+
+"Oh no!" said Jack.
+
+"Mr. Acting mentioned to me as how Warmint might amuse you."
+
+"Warmint! What the deuce is that?"
+
+"Why, the dawg."
+
+"Well, it's a pretty ugly brute anyhow, Raffles."
+
+"It is so; it's the colour--yellow is a mean colour. But he's a terror to
+go."
+
+"Where?" said Jack, uncivilly; for the man's manner, a mixture of
+familiarity and servility, had begun to pall on Jack's taste.
+
+"Why, there ain't a better, quicker, neater dawg in all London after the
+rats than Warmint. He holds the record south the Thames."
+
+"Is there a record then for rat killing? How is it done?"
+
+"Turn a sack o' long tails on to the floor and let the dawg among them.
+He works against time, of course."
+
+"Have the rats any chance of getting away?"
+
+"No fear."
+
+"Ugh!" said Jack, looking at the mongrel with intense disgust.
+
+"Is time for twenty--but I say, Mr. Bourne, if you like I'll bring a bag
+o' rats down, and you can see for yourself. While the other gentleman,
+Mr. Acting, is with the Coon, we can bring it off in the barn."
+
+"Man alive, no!" said Jack, with another spasm of disgust; "but if you've
+any other plans, Raffles, of killing an hour or so whilst Hill makes
+speeches, trot 'em out. I'm sick of pottering round his yard like an
+idiot. Are you coming with the Coon again?"
+
+"Pretty well every time. What do you say to a little game of billiards?"
+
+"Where?" said Jack.
+
+"Nice little 'ouse near 'ere, I know."
+
+"No fear! That's clean against the rules. Besides, who wants to knock
+balls about with a sticky cue on a torn billiard cloth, where the whole
+place reeks of beer and stale tobacco? No, thanks!"
+
+"Young gents used not to set so much store by rules when I was a lad."
+
+"We've changed since then, Raffles," said Jack, drily.
+
+"A little shooting?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Sparrers?" suggested Raffles, off-hand.
+
+"Rot!"
+
+"Bunnies?"
+
+"That's better, Raffles. If you can get me half an hour with Hill's
+rabbits, I'd risk that. Of course, there'd be a row if it was known.
+Acton won't inquire, I fancy, who's shooting?"
+
+"Mr. Acton won't, Mr. Bourne; he's a gentleman."
+
+"He's a monitor, though, Raffles, which is a different sort of animal."
+
+Raffles of Rotherhithe did not appear to think that Acton's being a
+monitor was a clinching argument barring young Bourne's sport. Perhaps he
+had private reasons for his opinions. Anyhow, he glibly promised to have
+a breech-loader and a ferret for young Bourne on the morrow.
+
+"And old Hill? They're his rabbits, you know."
+
+"That will be all right. Take Dan Raffles' word for it."
+
+"Now look here, Raffles; I'll give you sixpence for every rabbit I shoot,
+and I'll pay you for the cartridges. You'll keep all the rabbits, but you
+will lend me the gun."
+
+"Very good, sir," said Raffles, smartly.
+
+"And, Raffles," said Jack, eyeing over that individual with a curious
+mixture of amusement and dislike, "you needn't be too beastly friendly
+and chummy. I'm going to pay you for what you do, and don't fancy I'm
+going an inch further than I feel inclined. I'm paying the piper, and I'm
+going to choose all the tunes."
+
+"Orl right," said Raffles, considerably taken aback by the ultimatum.
+"I'll not be friendlier than I can 'elp."
+
+"Don't," said Jack.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+"EASY IS THE DOWNWARD ROAD"
+
+
+Aided by Raffles of Rotherhithe, young Bourne went royally through half
+the rules of the school. He called the tune to that extent. In the first
+place, one may believe that when he called in the aid of that horsey
+gentleman he had no further idea in his head than that of passing away
+those dull half-hours which Hill inflicted upon him.
+
+But, like many a wiser man, young Bourne found it was easier to conjure
+up a spirit than to lay one, and, having once accepted the aid of
+Raffles, he found it beyond his power to dispense with it, despite his
+brave word. So, unheedful of his brother's advice, he not merely put his
+innocent feet into the stream of forbidden pleasures, but waded in
+whole-heartedly up to the chin.
+
+Raffles, as promised, turned up on the next occasion provided with a
+ferret and a gun, and all difficulties were smoothed over with the
+farmer. Thus Jack Bourne took his post as the noble British sportsman
+just behind the Lodestone Moat, whilst Raffles, with his ferret, worked
+the bank, which was honey-combed with rabbit-holes. As the rabbits
+scurried out before the ferret, Jack blazed away noisily, and
+occasionally he had the pleasure of seeing a rabbit turning a somersault
+as it made its last bound. Certainly, Jack was not a dead shot, but when
+he contemplated the slain lying stark on the flanks of the bank, he felt
+the throaty joy of the slaughtering British schoolboy. He counted out to
+his worthy henchman four sixpences for the four slain with all the pride
+of the elephant-hunter paying his beaters yards of brass wire and calico.
+Raffles was properly grateful, of course.
+
+Then, as their acquaintance progressed, there were little competitions
+between Jack and Raffles at artificial pigeon-shooting, Raffles having
+fixed up the apparatus, and Jack, from the twenty-five yards' mark,
+occasionally winged his clay pigeon. It was very good sport in Jack's
+opinion. Further, that little "'ouse" which Raffles knew of also soon
+made the acquaintance of Jack, and he and Raffles on rainy afternoons
+snatched the fearful joys of hasty "hundreds up" or "fifties up," just as
+time allowed, Jack did not find the cue quite so sticky nor the charms of
+stale tobacco quite so unlovely as he had expected. The landlord, who
+marked for the two worthies, told our young gentleman that he had "a
+pretty 'and for the long jenny," and Jack felt he could not do less than
+order a little of his favourite beverage in return for his good opinion.
+And thus as ever. Under the expert tuition of Raffles, Jack became a
+little more of a "man" every day, and a little less of a decent fellow.
+He smoked, he could call for a "small port" in quite an off-hand fashion,
+he had played "shell out" with loafers at the little "'ouse," and he
+began to know a little more of betting, "gee-gees," and other kindred
+matters, than an average young fellow should know.
+
+"_Facilis descensus Averni_"--you know the old tag.
+
+By insensible gradations Jack Bourne found himself with a ruin of broken
+rules behind him, and still tied to the chariot-wheels of Raffles, who
+dragged him wherever he would. Jack's pockets, too, began to feel the
+drain, but luckily--or unluckily, if you look at it properly--he was
+rather flush this term, and as he had more than the usual allowance, he
+was not so short as he might have been.
+
+One thing bothered Jack, though he did not exactly put the idea that
+worried him into words. There was not much fun _really_ in this
+shooting, billiards, etc., since Jack broke all the rules alone. Now, if
+Poulett, or Wilson, or Rogers, or Grim had been with him, that would have
+been jolly. Besides that, since he could give his old chums so precious
+little of his time, and had perforce to head them off when they offered
+to bear him company on half-holidays, they called him many choice names.
+
+"I hear they sample all the public-houses between here and Westcote,"
+said Rogers. "Look what a dissipated eye Mr. Bourne's got."
+
+"Yours will soon be groggy, Rogers, my pet, though you are cock of your
+beastly water-lilies." After Sharpe's memorable poem, Biffen's house were
+always "water-lillies" to the rest of St. Amory's.
+
+"Ah?" said Poulett, "Jack carries Acton's notes to some yellow-haired
+dolly down at Westcote. She gives him milk whilst he's waiting for the
+answer."
+
+"Go and poach eggs, Poulett."
+
+"Don't do anything too mean, dear Jack, so that you'll make us blush for
+you."
+
+"Keep Acton out of mischief, Jack, remember he's only a poor forsaken
+monitor. Show him the ropes."
+
+"Good-bye, you chaps," said Jack, hopping on his bike, "here's Acton
+coming." The two would then pedal the well-known road to the Lodestone,
+and the elevating company of the Coon and Raffles.
+
+"Don't let Raffles bore you, young 'un," said Acton to Bourne one day as
+the owner of Warmint hove in sight. "Make him useful, but keep out of
+mischief."
+
+Jack, had he thought about the matter, might have reasonably asked Acton
+how he could make Raffles useful and yet keep out of mischief, but the
+Coon appearing at the stable-door in all the glory of a fur-lined coat,
+with a foot of fur round the collar and half a foot round the sleeves,
+and a bigger cigar than ever in his mouth, drove Jack's thoughts in
+another direction.
+
+Acton had really made marvellous progress under the Coon's coaching, and
+as Jack watched the usual concluding three rounds, he was puzzled in his
+own mind as to who could hold a candle up to his friend. This particular
+afternoon was to be the final appearance of the Coon, who was going to
+figure shortly as principal in some contest at Covent Garden, and Jack
+determined to miss no opportunity of catching the last wrinkles of the
+great professor's skill. Therefore, instead of sallying out as usual
+halfway through the performance in the stable, he sat on the corn-chest
+until Hill came in.
+
+"Good-bye, Coon! Hope you come off all right in your turn-up."
+
+"Good-bye, sir! Hope I'll train you when you start for the Heavy."
+
+"I'll give you the chance if I do. Come along, Raffles."
+
+When they were outside, Jack said, "By the way, Raffles, this will be
+your last appearance down here too, eh?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Raffles, "unless you make it worth my while to come
+down entirely on your account."
+
+"H'm, no," said Jack. "I'm deucedly short now, and when I've paid for the
+last fifty cartridges, and the last rabbits, I'll be still shorter."
+
+"Let it stand over, sir."
+
+"No," said Jack. "I've had the fun, and I'll pay, of course. Let's have a
+last dozen pigeons at the twenty-five yards' rise."
+
+Secretly, Jack was rather glad that Raffles' _role_ of entertainer
+was finished; for his stolen pleasures had lost a considerable part of
+their original sweetness, and their cost _was_ heavy. It would be
+quite a change, too, to get back to Grim and the others, and be the
+ordinary common sort of fellow again.
+
+Raffles went and wound up the throwing apparatus, and set the clay pigeon
+on the rest. Jack took his breech-loader, raised it to the shoulder, and
+said, "Ready!" Raffles pulled the string, the dummy bird rocketed up, and
+Jack pressed the trigger.
+
+For one second afterwards Jack did not rightly know what had happened.
+There was a blinding flash before his eyes, a something tore off his cap,
+and something stung his cheeks like spirts of scalding water. His left
+hand felt numb and dead. This all happened in the fraction of a moment.
+
+Jack looked at the gun in stupid wonder. The breech was clean blown out!
+With a groan of horror, he dropped the gun. He realized that he had
+escaped death by a miracle. He put up his right hand to his face, which
+felt on fire, and stared blankly at Raffles.
+
+That worthy was scared out of his wits; but when he saw Jack was more or
+less alive, he managed to jerk out--
+
+"That was a squeak, young shaver! Hurt any?"
+
+"Don't know," said Jack, blankly.
+
+Raffles anxiously examined him, and it was with no end of relief he
+said--
+
+"Clean bill, sir--bar those flecks of powder on your cheek.
+Considering--well you're--we're--lucky."
+
+"Rather," said Jack, dizzily. "That's my cap isn't it?"
+
+Yards away was Jack's cap, and Raffles brought it. His face was
+white--white above a bit. There was a clean cut through the brim, and a
+neat, straightforward tear-out of an inch or so of the front just above
+the crest.
+
+"Well," said Raffles, looking narrowly at that business-like damage. "All
+I can say is you're lucky."
+
+"Lucky! Yes," said Jack. "I suppose I'd better go. Let's have the thing.
+An inch lower down, and I'd have had that piece of barrel in my head--or
+through it. It wants thinking over."
+
+"I suppose, sir, you're going to----"
+
+"Oh, the cash you mean! Eh?"
+
+"Yes, that was my meaning."
+
+"Your cash will be all right, man. Come down for it on Friday--can't
+you?"
+
+"How if I can't, young shaver?" said Raffles of Rotherhithe.
+
+"Then do without it! Anyhow, I'm going now--I'm too sick."
+
+"All right," said Raffles, sulkily. "On Thursday."
+
+Jack, without another word, stumbled across the fields into the farmyard,
+and luckily found Acton ready for home. He shakily dropped into his
+saddle; and, with a mind pretty busy, he tailed wearily after Acton to
+St. Amory's.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+IN THE STABLE
+
+
+After tea that day Acton went down to the farm _solus_, not having,
+as you will presently see, any need of Jack's company, even if Bourne had
+felt any desire to accompany him, which he didn't.
+
+The monitor tinkled his bell, and in answer to the ringing, Raffles
+lounged out of a barn, the inseparable Warmint trotting at his master's
+heels.
+
+"Suppose we'd better go into the stable, Raffles."
+
+The odour of the Coon's afternoon cigar still hung about the place, and
+the stable was half dark, but as Acton had an idea that his conversation
+with Raffles would not be a short one, and the night was rather cold,
+they went in.
+
+"Fire away, Raffles. Start at the beginning."
+
+"Very good, sir," said Raffles, seating himself on the corn-chest.
+"Agreeable to instructions received from Mr. Acting----"
+
+"Acton," suggested that gentleman.
+
+"Acting--I said so, didn't I? Very well! Agreeable to instructions
+received from you, sir, I prepared----"
+
+"Don't be so beastly legal, you ass!"
+
+"Let a cove tell 'is tale 'is own way, sir. We'll get on better like
+that. As I was going to say, following your tip, I prepared to show that
+young shaver, Bourne, a few things which as you told me he ought not to
+know of, and to do a few things which you told me he ought not to do--in
+fact, to put him on the way of breakin' every blessed rule that that beak
+of your school 'as drawn up for the guidance of the youth and the
+beauties under 'is 'and. What's the name of the beak, sir?"
+
+"Oh, Moore!" said Acton, impatiently.
+
+"The young shaver spoke of 'im different."
+
+"Corker, perhaps," said Acton.
+
+"That's it," continued Raffles. "Well, Corker 'asn't got a thoroughbred
+greenhorn in Bourne, Mr. Acting."
+
+"No. Young Bourne's head is on his shoulders, more or less. Get on."
+
+"Well, we opened the ball with a little bunny-shootin', for he couldn't
+stand Warmint's workin' among the rats. He shoots moderate straight, so I
+doctored his cartridges, or he'd have cleared out the bank. Not more than
+two in the half-dozen, sir. And then he couldn't understand it. What
+might Corker say to the bunnies, sir?"
+
+"Oh, a thrashing, perhaps, and a stringing up for the rest of the term."
+
+"We went to the Blue Cow on wet days. Billiards, beer, and 'baccy, Mr.
+Acting, was the true bill there. What's the law on those fancy articles?"
+
+"A thrashing for first course, and _et ceteras_ which you wouldn't
+understand."
+
+"Well, he's earned 'em. We couldn't do any betting on the horses, since
+the Lincolnshire Handicap is not in sight yet, but he fluttered a little
+on the Sporting Club matches; and he was lucky--more than ordinary."
+
+"You didn't wing him there, then?"
+
+"Nothing to speak of. He may have dropped half a sov. altogether, but I
+doubt it."
+
+"Then, Raffles, you're a fool. Do you think I brought you down here to be
+moral instructor to young Bourne, you grey old badger? Couldn't you bag
+an innocent of sixteen or so? Besides, what the deuce do you mean by
+tipping me the wink as Bourne and I used to get on our 'bikes'? You
+always did it, and I thought you were winding up the youngster hand over
+hand."
+
+"Them winks," said Raffles, diplomatically, "was meant to show that I was
+moving--moving slow, but sure. You've observed, Mr. Acting, yourself, as
+'ow the young shaver had a head on 'is shoulders."
+
+"Yes, but I didn't bargain for yours being off your shoulders."
+
+"Well, what with bunnies, cartridges, and the Blue Cow, and the other
+extras, he is about cleaned out now."
+
+"Cleaned out!" said Acton, with intense irritation. "That's not what I
+wanted. I told you distinctly that I must have him five pounds deep at
+the least. How can I engineer my schemes if my sharpers can't cut? You'll
+look blue, Raffles, when I settle your account, take my word for it."
+
+"Not quite so quick off the mark, Mr. Acting. What do you value this
+piece of ironmongery at?"
+
+Raffles fished up the gun which had burst in Jack's hands that afternoon
+from behind the corn-chest, and held it up to the light.
+
+"A burst gun!" said Acton. "It's worth throwing away; no more."
+
+"It was worth this morning, say fifteen bob, before Bourne blew its ribs
+out."
+
+"Jove!" said Acton, "let me handle the thing." He looked at the torn
+breech, and whistled with involuntary horror. "Much of a squeak,
+Raffles?"
+
+"Touch and go, sir. He'll never be nearer pegging out than he was this
+afternoon; for he scraped the gates of his family buryin'-place, in a
+manner of speakin.' It went clean through his hat--rim and crown."
+
+"Did he know his luck?"
+
+"Nobody better."
+
+"He looked more than average queer as we trotted home. I thought he was
+digesting your little bill, Raffles."
+
+"No; he only owes me a matter of shillin's. But I could say that I
+ticketed the gun at L5 or L6, when the old shooter wasn't worth----"
+
+"Fifteen bob," said Acton, looking at the worn barrel.
+
+"See where I have--where you have--the youngster tied neatly up? He owes
+me--or you--seven, eight, nine pounds, or any fancy figure I--or you--
+like to mention for that old piece of iron there."
+
+"Raffles, we're in luck! Luck has served me better than all your downy
+work."
+
+"It has," said that bright specimen of humanity, regretfully. "I can't
+pretend that I'd any hand in the blowing out of them blessed barrels."
+
+"All right, Raffles; don't weep. You'd have done it, of course, if you'd
+thought about it," said Acton, with a curious sneer; "but this is my
+plan--as far as you're concerned. When young Bourne comes, you're to ask
+for L7 10s. And you're to be an adamantine Jew; you're to have the money
+instanter, or there'll be a rumpus."
+
+"I twig. Make it seven guineas, though," said Raffles, generously.
+
+"Seven guineas! So be it. You can suggest that, unless you get the cash,
+you would see Moore."
+
+"Corker, D.D.? I'm on."
+
+"Or Bourne, senior."
+
+"The shaver's brother. I'm tumbling to the dodge."
+
+"Bourne will curl up at this."
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"But you're still the blood-thirsty Jew."
+
+"Moses, and Aaron, and the rest."
+
+"You'll suggest at last that I be tackled for a loan."
+
+"And you'll lend it him!" said Raffles, with an unspeakable leer.
+
+"The business wants careful handling, remember. Young Bourne will think
+twice about borrowing, and, perhaps, if he could keep me out of it, would
+stand your racket, or Corker's either. So drive him lightly."
+
+"You'll see him on the borrowing tack to-morrow, Mr. Acting."
+
+"And the rest is my business."
+
+"Where do I come in?"
+
+"You can cleave to the seven guineas--if you earn 'em."
+
+"Seven pounds ten, Mr. Acting."
+
+"Seven pound seven, Mr. Raffles. Your own proposal."
+
+"Orl right," said Raffles, resignedly. "I think I know them ropes."
+
+"Good!" said Acton. "Then you can scuttle now to Rotherhithe, or where the
+deuce else you like. I'm off."
+
+Acton wheeled out his bicycle and melted into the gathering dark, and his
+jackal lurched off to the station and reached Rotherhithe to dream of his
+seven guineas which he was going to get. Raffles felt sure of those seven
+guineas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+GRIM'S SUSPICIONS
+
+
+As I said before, Jack Bourne, after the first bloom of his forbidden
+pleasures had worn off, rather repented of the Raffles' connection, and
+would gladly have exchanged it for the old, easy, open, and above-board
+society of his chums. Grim, Rogers, Wilson, Poulett, etc., were, on their
+side, rather sore at Jack's continual desertion of them and their causes.
+They had just seen him pedalling easily after Acton, throwing them a
+rather mirthless joke as he ran past, and they had, naturally, held a
+council to consider matters.
+
+"Wherever can the beggar get to is what I want to know," said Wilson.
+
+"Can any one tell me what he wants with Acton?" said Grim.
+
+"I think that it's Acton that wants him," said Rogers. "Come to think of
+it, Grimmy, you're Acton's man. Why doesn't he lag you?"
+
+"Grimmy's not to be trusted. He'd read the _billet-doux_"
+
+"I don't believe that there's any notes, Wilson," said Grim,
+impressively, "in this business. It's something deeper than that."
+
+"What's the mystery, Mr. Grimmy Sherlock Combs?"
+
+"Poachin'," said Grim, solemnly.
+
+"What!" exclaimed the other, with breathless interest.
+
+"Dunno, quite," said Grim; "but that young ass dropped a cartridge from
+his pocket the other day."
+
+"There's nothing to poach here, Grimmy."
+
+"There's Pettigrew's pheasants," said Grim, mysteriously.
+
+"But you don't shoot them in March."
+
+"_We_ don't, Poulett, but poachers do."
+
+"Tisn't likely that Acton----"
+
+"Well, don't know," said Rogers, reflectively. "He's lived so long in
+France, where they shoot robins and nightingales, that he'll not know."
+
+"But Bourne would."
+
+"That's why he looks so blue. He does know, and it preys on his mind."
+
+W.E. Grim's pathetic picture of young Bourne turned out-of-season poacher
+against his will by an inexorable Acton didn't seem quite to fill the
+bill.
+
+"Grimmy, you're an absolute idiot. That poachin' dodge won't do. Perhaps,
+after all, they only bike round generally."
+
+"What about that cartridge?" said Grim.
+
+The little knot of cronies discussed the matter for a good half-hour,
+Grim holding tenaciously to a poaching theory--pheasants or rabbits--the
+others scouting the idea as next door to the absurd.
+
+"Look here," said Wilson, brilliantly, "we'll track the pair to their
+earth to-morrow. If they're after birds or bunnies I'll stand tea all
+round at Hooper's."
+
+"All right," said Grim. "I'd like to know about that cartridge."
+
+On the morrow the suspicious band quietly trotted out after dinner from
+St. Amory's, dressed ostensibly for a run down Westcote way. Once down
+the hill they lay well out in the fields, keeping a sharp watch through
+the hedges for their quarry. When they saw two well-known figures, feet
+on the rest, coasting merrily down and head for Westcote, they all drew a
+long breath and girded up their loins for the race.
+
+"With luck and the short cuts," said Grim, stepping out, "we may just see
+'em sneak into Pettigrew's woods."
+
+"And we've got a mile in hand too," said Wilson.
+
+The cronies ran tightly together, nursing their wind and keeping well
+screened from eyeshot from the road, not that either Acton, or Bourne
+dreamed that their afternoon's run was being dogged by anyone. From their
+numerous short cuts the scouts were necessarily out of view from the
+road, but they marked the two cyclists from point to point and themselves
+headed up hill and down dale straight for Westcote. They felt pretty well
+winded by now, as they stood panting in a breezy spinney, watching for
+the appearance of their quarry on the brown road beneath them.
+
+"There they are," gasped Wilson, pretty blown.
+
+"There's only one," said Rogers, "and it is that young owl Bourne, too.
+He's shed Acton."
+
+"Perhaps he's punctured," suggested Grim; "anyhow, we hang on to Jack."
+
+Rather puzzled at the non-appearance of Acton, they kept the first-comer
+well in view as he pedalled hard for Westcote.
+
+"That's Jack right enough," said Rogers; "and we'll have to leg it or
+he'll slip us. Jove! he's captured a wheel with a vengeance. Hear it
+hum."
+
+The quartette strung down the hill full pelt, but when they got to the
+bottom the cyclist was a good hundred yards ahead. His pursuers came to a
+dead stop.
+
+"May as well go home now," said Grim, in great disgust. "We can't dog him
+now, and anyhow it isn't Pettigrew's pheasants that Jack's after: he's
+gone past the woods. What a bone-shaker he's captured. Hear the spokes
+rattlin'."
+
+"Not so quick, Grimmy. He's wheeling into that little Westcote inn. We'll
+run him down now."
+
+The rider had indeed dismounted nearly a quarter mile ahead, and
+instantly the Amorians were stringing down the road again. Before the
+door of the little inn they found a bicycle propped up drunkenly against
+the wall, and the Amorians, pumped though they were, had breath enough
+left to explode over Bourne's machine. It was a "solid" of
+pre-diamond-frame days, guiltless of enamel or plating, and handle-bars
+of width generous enough for a Dutch herring-boat's bow.
+
+"There's no false pride about Jack," said Grim, gloating over the weird
+mount. "Whatever is he doing in here?"
+
+"Liquid refreshment," said Rogers between a gulp and a gasp. "Oh, Jack,
+was it for this and this that you gave us the go-by?"
+
+"This place doesn't seem Jack's form somehow," said Wilson, looking
+doubtfully up and down the little inn.
+
+"Ring him out, Wilson," said Grim. "His little game's up now, and we can
+rag him for an age over this."
+
+"Let's try his mount first, Grimmy." Rogers wheeled out the machine and,
+after hopping twenty yards, "found" the saddle. To mount it was one
+thing, to ride it was evidently a matter of liberal education beyond the
+attainments of a junior Amorian, for, as Rogers attempted a modest sweep
+round, the machine collapsed, and he was sprawling on his back, the
+bicycle rattling about his ears. Then--it seemed automatically to the
+gasping Amorians--a sturdy youth rushed out of the inn flourishing a
+half-emptied glass of beer in one hand, and he seized the struggling
+Rogers by the scruff of the neck with the other. Rogers was
+unceremoniously jerked to his feet before he quite realized what it was
+all about. One or two men lounged out of the inn, and surveyed the scene
+dispassionately, and the landlord pushed his way forward.
+
+"Wot's the matter?"
+
+"Matter!" gasped the youth, tightening his hold on Rogers' collar and
+waving his glass dramatically.
+
+"This young shaver was going to nick my bike. I seen him."
+
+"I wasn't, you fool----" began Rogers, who did not like the man's
+knuckles in his neck.
+
+"Fool am I, you little ugly thief? Worn't you a-scorchin' down the road
+w'it? I see you."
+
+The other Amorians curled up with laughter at the way things were mixing
+up, and at the last exquisite joke.
+
+"Jove, Rogers, to think you meant to steal it!" burbled Poulett.
+
+"Leave loose of my collar, you idiot," said Rogers, squirming in the
+man's grasp; "I tell you it's all a mistake."
+
+"That's all my h'eye. I see you sneak it, and it'll be a month for you.
+Sneaking bikes is awful! Mistake be blowed."
+
+"Oh! explain, some of you," said Rogers, frantically, "before I--Grim,
+tell the lunatic."
+
+The Amorians were beyond mere laughter now, but the landlord had wit
+enough to see that there was some mistake somewhere, and he finally
+persuaded the owner of the bicycle to moderate his attentions to the
+exasperated Rogers. Grim recovered sufficiently to lift some of the
+suspicions from that ill-used youth.
+
+"We thought you were a friend of ours--back view only and at a distance,
+you know--but you're not very like him, really, in the face. His name's
+Bourne."
+
+"Mine's 'Arris," said the bicycle owner, angrily.
+
+"A very nice name, too;" said Grim, soothingly. "You'd better see what's
+the damage to the machine for we must be trotting back to St. Amory's."
+
+Mr. Harris spun the pedals and tried the wheels.
+
+"It's shook up considerable, that's wot it is."
+
+"All right," said Grim, hastily. "Here's a shilling. Give it a drink of
+beer."
+
+This was a wretched joke really, but it brightened the face of Mr. Harris
+considerably when he heard it, and the loafers departed from their
+dispassionate attitude, and became quite friendly. The landlord went in
+to draw beer.
+
+A minute afterwards the quartette was heading back for St. Amory's as
+hard as it could go, and whenever a halt was called for breath, three of
+the cronies collapsed on the earth, and howled at Rogers, who could not
+see the joke.
+
+Over a quiet little tea, after call-over, at Hooper's Rogers explained
+fully his views.
+
+"No, I'm not going to do any more detective work. We missed Acton and
+Bourne beautifully; they don't go to Westcote, and Grimmy's idea about
+poachin' 's rotten. He may be Acton's messenger-boy or the rider of a
+decent pneumatic, but I'm going to let him go his own way."
+
+When, afterwards, they rubbed embrocation into their wearied limbs, the
+rest agreed with Rogers.
+
+"But, yet," said Grim, "I'd like to know about that cartridge too."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+TODD "FINDS HIMSELF"
+
+
+Todd had found out all the unpainted beauty of public-school life without
+pocket money, and discovered that existence was just possible. A shilling
+on your watchchain and a shilling's worth of stamps admit of no luxuries,
+and Todd, through his impecuniosity, even if he had wished, could not
+have done anything else but work. Taylor's house was supposed to provide
+a fairly liberal table, but Gus really did miss his after-dinner cup of
+coffee at Hooper's, and not many fellows would regard long letters to and
+from home as being the _summum bonum_ of the week. Yet Todd had come
+to regard his mamma's letters--four-paged gossip about his sisters, his
+brothers, the horses, and the dogs--in the light of luxuries.
+
+Consequently, with nothing to distract him, Gus really did work. His
+standing in the Fifth sensibly increased. Merishall did not make
+elaborate jokes on his Latin, and Corker not once let fall the warning
+eye-glass preparatory to savaging him for his Greek, formerly called so
+by a courtesy title. There was a world of difference between his old
+haphazard slip-slop and his present honest attempts in the ways of
+scholarship.
+
+The half-holidays, though, dragged dreadfully, for Gus was one of those
+fellows who have no natural aptitude for games, and he had a theory that
+he did not care a straw about them either. Being in the Fifth he could,
+of course, suit himself what he did with his halfers. Sometimes, in very
+desperation, he would lounge down to the Acres, and wander forlornly from
+goal post to goal post, and sometimes he spent the afternoon amusing
+himself--with Lancaster's express approval--in the laboratory, and so
+effaced previous bad impressions from the science master's mind. Gus,
+however, was honest enough with himself to own that he would rather have
+had an aimless stroll with Cotton than any amount of footer-gazing or
+"bottle-washing." But Cotton had definitely thrown him over; they did not
+nod when they met, and Jim was very careful not to see Gus walking in
+solitary state in the roadway.
+
+Todd was moodily looking out of his window one halfer, and discontentedly
+wondering how he could exist till he should switch on the electric for
+the evening grind, when a not unfamiliar knock sounded on the door. Gus
+faced round wonderingly, and opened the door. The house-master dropped
+into the chair which Todd hastily drew out for him.
+
+"I thought I should catch you in, Todd. Nothing on, have you?"
+
+"No, sir," said Todd.
+
+"No particular engagement for this afternoon."
+
+"No, sir," said Gus, with a half sigh merging into a half smile, "though
+I did think of going down to the Acres, and looking at the footer."
+
+"I'm glad of that," said Taylor, as though he really were. "I promised to
+referee this afternoon--Hargon's _v_. Sharpe's--but I want to cry
+off now. Neuralgia, Todd, is simply torturing me this moment, and
+refereeing wouldn't improve it. Do you mind taking my place? Do please
+say 'No' if you'd rather not."
+
+"Very sorry, sir," said Gus, referring to the neuralgia. "Referee!"
+
+"Yes," said Taylor, with a ghost of a smile at Todd's astonishment.
+
+"Certainly, I will, sir--I mean I'll take your place. But the fellows
+will gasp when I step into the arena."
+
+"Thank you, Todd. Why will they gasp?"
+
+"Footer isn't my line, sir."
+
+"Hasn't been, Todd. Anyhow, they'll be delighted when you whistle them
+up."
+
+"I hope they'll be delighted when I've finished, sir," said Gus,
+doubtfully.
+
+"One side won't, of course," said Taylor, cheerfully. "That is natural,
+and the usual thing. Do you know, I never played football, but I like
+refereeing immensely. Positive it's the best thing after playing, and I
+know that a really first-class referee is a very rare fowl. Of course
+it's the off-side rule and, etc."
+
+Taylor delivered himself of a little homily on the subject of refereeing.
+He was enthusiastic almost to the point of forgetting his neuralgia, and
+Todd got quite interested in the theme so earnestly handled. He had not
+thought there was much fun in it until the house-master unfolded its
+possibilities, but he took over the whistle fairly sanguine.
+
+"I'll do my best, sir," said Gus, in conclusion; "and if they stone me
+off the Acres----"
+
+"I'll bury my reputation as a prophet under the missiles."
+
+In one thing Todd was certainly right. When he found Hargon's _v_.
+Sharpe's pitch and told the assembled twenty-two--rather diffidently, I
+must own--that he was the deputy referee, they did gasp.
+
+"Show us your whistle, Gus," said Higgins, Hargon's captain, doubtfully.
+
+Gus held it up, with a genial and childlike smile.
+
+"Got the rules in your pocket, too, I suppose."
+
+"I have," said Todd--"for reference. But I know _now_, Higgins, that
+goal-keepers cannot take more than two steps with the ball, and----"
+
+Sharpe's lot guffawed at Todd's neat little thrust at Higgins's little
+failing as a goal-keeper.
+
+"But don't you worry, Hig; I'll see you through all right. Three-quarter
+each way, I suppose?"
+
+Todd gave his whole mind to the refereeing, and soon warmed to business.
+He found that there was heaps more fun in it than he had bargained for,
+and as he was a sharp, quick, and clever youth he came out of the ordeal
+with flying colours. He made mistakes, naturally, but momentous issues
+depended on none of them, and he felt he had not done so badly when
+Higgins, at half-time, spoke to him as one in authority to another. But
+Palmer, the captain of Sharpe's lot--the beaten side--put the coping
+stone to a pleasant afternoon by asking Gus to referee for them against
+Merishall's. Gus walked off the field a happy man.
+
+From that afternoon Todd had no excuse for loafing away any halfer. His
+services as referee were in demand, not merely as a matter of utility,
+but of preference. Taylor, who had watched rather anxiously Todd's
+progress, smiled easily at the success of his understudy.
+
+"I say," said Bourne to me, "what's come over Todd? Blessed if that usual
+ass didn't handle the Fifth _v_. Sixth to-day simply beautifully.
+When you're lynched, Gus will fill your shoes completely. Talks so-so,
+too. Who's improving him?"
+
+I acted on Phil's advice, and Todd and I parcelled out the outstanding
+fixtures between us. Then Todd became one of the best-known fellows in
+the school, and strolled up the hill with Worcester, Acton, Vercoe, and
+other heroes as to the manner born. The old, lazy, shallow, shifty,
+shiftless Gus was drifting into the background every day.
+
+Then Todd gave us a final shock. I was hurrying down the High when a
+constable asked me if I could tell him "where a young gentleman named
+Todd lived."
+
+"I'm passing by his house," said I, more than a trifle puzzled as to what
+the police might want with Gus. "Hope it isn't house-breaking,
+constable?"
+
+"No, sir," said he, laughing. "It is a matter of ice-breakin'."
+
+I expect I looked mystified.
+
+"Mr. Todd, sir, fished out of the water just below the Low Locks a common
+ordinary drunk, Robins--a bargee. That was yesterday afternoon, and this
+morning the superintendent sends me to see how he is."
+
+I looked more blankly ignorant than before.
+
+"He's kept it dark, I see, sir. There isn't a bigger fool alive than
+Robins when he's drunk--which he mostly--what is--and he acted yesterday
+up to the usual form of drunks. He _would_ go on the ice just below
+the locks, when it would hardly bear a sparrer, let alone a drunk Robin,
+and he naturally goes under before he'd gone a dozen yards. Mr. Todd went
+for him without, I fancy, considering the risks. He broke the ice up to
+that forsaken Robins, and waded in after him. When _we_ got there he
+was up to his neck in water, and he'd got the fool by the collar; then we
+pulled 'em both out. Mind, up to his chin in that frozen water! We
+thought Robins was a goner from cold when we landed 'im, and asked Mr.
+Todd's name as bein' likely to be required at the inquest. But, bless
+you, sir, Robins pulled through all right; that sort generally does."
+
+"Was there any one to help Todd, when he went for the fellow?"
+
+"No, sir; he just waded in and took his chance. I wouldn't--at least not
+for an ord'nary drunk. Mr. Todd just ran home as he was: said the sprint
+would warm him to rights. How is he?"
+
+"Got a vile cold; he was barking pretty well all chapel."
+
+"And Robins," said the policeman, in disgust, "doesn't own up to a
+snuffle. This Mr. Todd's house, sir?"
+
+"Yes. I'd just ask to see Mr. Taylor, the house-master, first. I fancy
+he'll be pleased to see you."
+
+The constable's plain, unvarnished tale gave the Rev. E. Taylor as
+pleasant a ten minutes as he had enjoyed for some time, and he passed on
+the worthy man to the butler with instructions as to "something hot."
+Then he rapped on Todd's door.
+
+Decidedly the ship _Agustus Vernon Robert Todd_ "had found herself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+RAFFLES' BILL
+
+
+It was with hearty thankfulness at the idea of being finally rid of
+Raffles that Jack walked over to the "Lodestone" by himself on the
+Thursday, jingling his last few shillings in his pockets. Raffles was
+waiting for him in the stables, and he was very friendly and familiar,
+which always annoyed Jack immensely.
+
+"Glad you're in time, sir, and to 'ear the dibs a-rattlin' in your
+pockets."
+
+"Because they'll rattle in yours, soon, I suppose. I make out I owe you
+about ten shillings, Raffles."
+
+"'Ow do you make that out, Mr. Bourne?"
+
+"Rabbits, cartridges, and dummy pigeons. I'm about right, I fancy?"
+
+"Right as far as they go."
+
+"As far as they go, of course--not farther. Then here you are."
+
+"And the gun," said Raffles, calmly, looking into vacancy, and not
+seeing Jack's coins--"leastwise, wot was a gun."
+
+"Am I to pay for that filthy article?" said Jack, angrily. "Why, it
+nearly blew my brains out!"
+
+"'As'e to pay for that breech-loader gun?" said Raffles, laughing
+softly as at some good joke. "Why, of course you have."
+
+"My opinion is, Raffles, that that gun was rotten. It wasn't worth a
+sovereign. I don't believe it was ever fit to shoot with, now."
+
+"Of course, _now_," said Raffles, with a sneer. "_Now_, when you've got
+to pay for it."
+
+"I don't know so much about 'have got to pay for it' at all. That grin
+of yours doesn't improve your looks, Raffles," said Jack, who was rather
+nettled by Raffles' sneer.
+
+"Well, my bantam cock," said Raffles, savagely, "I only 'opes as this
+'ere bill won't spoil yours. And let me tell you, young shaver, I want
+the money."
+
+Jack calmly took the piece of note-paper which Raffles hurriedly fished
+out of his pocket, and flourished dramatically before Bourne. There was
+a touching simplicity about Raffles' bill-making that would in ordinary
+times have made Jack split with laughter, but, naturally, at the present
+time he did not feel in a very jovial frame of mind. Hence he read
+through the farrago with only one very strong desire--to kick Raffles
+neck and crop out of the stable. This was the bill:--
+
+  Mr. burn owes me daniel raffles this money.
+
+  To bunneys at sixpence each... 2 0
+  To 50 cartrigges......         6 6
+  To pidgins.........            1 6
+  1 gunn breech loder......  L7  0 0
+                             _______
+  totel                      L7 10 0
+
+"Now, Raffles," said Jack, in a white heat, "what do you mean by this
+rotten foolery?"
+
+"There's no foolery about it," said Raffles, sulkily. "That's my bill."
+
+"Why, you unspeakable rascal, did you fancy I'd pay it?"
+
+"I did, and I do."
+
+Something in the fellow's tone made Jack a trifle uneasy, and he
+considered within himself for a moment what he had better do. That the
+rascal had made up his mind to be nasty was evident, and when Jack
+thought that the gun, poor as it was, was destroyed, though through no
+fault of his own, he thought perhaps he might give his old jackal
+something as a solatium.
+
+"All right, Raffles! I'll pay you for what I owe you now, and I'll give
+you a sovereign for the gun. I'll send you that in a day or two. I've no
+more money with me now."
+
+"That ain't the bill. I want this 'ere bill paid."
+
+"'This 'ere bill' is sheer rot!" retorted Jack.
+
+"Rot or not, it's what I want from you. You pay up that seven odd, or it
+will be the worse for you. What is seven odd to a young gent like you?
+Aren't you all millionaires at St. Amory's?"
+
+"Not by a long chalk."
+
+"Well, I don't want to be unpleasant, my buck, but if you won't pay over
+I'll show you up."
+
+"Show me up, you beast--what do you mean?"
+
+"I'll write to Corker and blow the gaff."
+
+"If you did that," said Bourne, grimly, "I'd kill you first day I could
+do it."
+
+[Illustration: "I'M GOING TO HAVE THE SEVEN TEN, OR SHOW YOU UP."]
+
+"Or I'd write to your brother."
+
+"And he'd do it now, you skunk!"
+
+"No names, young gent. That won't pay my bill. You don't seem to imagine
+I mean what I say."
+
+"No, I don't, for you wouldn't be any _nearer_ getting the money."
+
+"But then you say you aren't going to pay anyhow, so I may as well touch
+you up a bit. You've most every time told me not to be so beastly
+friendly, and I ain't going to be. I'm going to have the seven ten or
+show you up. That's straight."
+
+"Show me up," repeated Jack, blankly. "You miserable blackmailer!"
+Bourne felt then the beautiful feelings of being in the grasp of a
+low-bred cad who could play with him as a cat with a mouse. He sat
+staring in front of him livid with rage, and Raffles, who was watching
+him covertly, and with no small anxiety, could see he was digesting the
+whole situation. Jack would indeed then and there have let Raffles do
+his worst, and would have stood the racket from Corker--and his
+brother--rather than be blackmailed by the villain by his side, but he
+said hopelessly to himself, "How can I do it without bringing Acton into
+it? When this comes out all his training with the Coon must come out
+too; perhaps he'll lose his monitorship for not keeping his hand on me,
+and Phil's done him a bad enough turn already. I can't round on him.
+Heavens! I can't do that."
+
+This reads rather pitiful, doesn't it, under the circumstances?
+
+Jack at the end of his resources tried a desperate bluff.
+
+"I'll put Acton on your track, my beauty, and perhaps he'll make you
+see--or feel--reason."
+
+"That game's no good, young shaver. I don't want to see Mr. Acting no
+more than you want to tell him of your little blow-outs. Look here, are
+you going to pay? Yes or no?"
+
+"I haven't got the money," said Jack, at his wits' end.
+
+"Ho! that's very likely," said Raffles, with a sneer; "anyhow, you could
+mighty soon get it if you wanted to."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Why, borrow it, of course. Ask your chum, Mr. Acting. _He_ 'as money.
+No end of brass, the Coon says."
+
+"I can't do that," said Jack, in utter despair.
+
+"Orl right," said Raffles, seeing his shot had told. "I see you ain't
+got the money on you now, and I don't want to be too 'ard on you. I'll
+give you a chance. I'll give you till Saturday to turn it over. My
+advice is to borrow from Mr. Acting. He'll lend it you, I should think;
+anyhow, I can't stand shilly-shallying here all night, no more than I
+can stand the loss of that grand gun, so I'm off. Have the money by
+Saturday at three, or I blow the gaff and you can be hung up or cut up
+for all I care. I'm not going to be more beastly friendly nor more
+chummy than that."
+
+Raffles lurched off with a savage leer, and Jack staggered back to St.
+Amory's.
+
+Jack's life was a burden to him for the next few hours, his head nearly
+split with the hatching of impossible plans with loopholes to escape the
+weasel on his track, but the end was as Acton had foreseen. Acton got a
+note through Grim.
+
+"DEAR ACTON,
+  "Could you give me ten minutes in your study to-night?--Yours,
+"J. BOURNE."
+
+"DEAR BOURNE,
+  "Twenty, if you like.--Yours,
+"J. ACTON."
+
+Jack went, and when Acton put him into the easy-chair and noticed his
+white, fagged face, he felt genuinely sorry for him.
+
+"You look seedy, young 'un."
+
+"I hope I don't look as seedy as I feel, that's all."
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+Jack boggled over what he'd come to say, but finally blurted out:
+"Acton, would you lend me seven pounds? I'm in a hole, the deuce of a
+hole; in fact, I'm pretty well hopelessly stumped. I'll tell you why if
+you ask me, but I hope you won't. I've been an ass, but I've collared
+some awful luck, and I'm not quite the black sheep I seem. I don't want
+to ask Phil--in fact, I couldn't, simply couldn't ask him for this. I'll
+pay you back beginning of next term if I can raise as much, and if not,
+as much as I can then, and the rest later."
+
+"Oh, you're straight enough, young 'un, and I'll lend you the money,"
+said Acton.
+
+Jack blubbed in his thanks, for he was really run down.
+
+"Keep up your pecker, Bourne. Borrowing isn't a crime, quite. When do
+you want the cash?"
+
+"By to-morrow, please," said Jack.
+
+"Call in for it, then, before afternoon school, and you can pay me back
+as you say. I suppose the sharks have got hold of you."
+
+"Yes," said Jack, with perfect truth, though he only knew of one, and he
+went to bed that night blessing Acton. His gorge rose when he thought of
+his fleecing, and at this he almost blubbed with rage as he blubbed with
+gratitude to Acton.
+
+That interesting Shylock, Raffles, was at the farm confidently waiting
+young Bourne and his coins, and when he saw the young innocent bowling
+furiously down the road, he sighed with satisfaction. His dream was
+true.
+
+"Write out the receipt."
+
+"I've already done it, Mr. Bourne."
+
+"Then here's your blackmail."
+
+"Correct to the figure, sir, and I think it's a settle, nice and
+comfortable for all parties."
+
+"If it's any comfort for you to know you're an utter blackguard you can
+hear it. A fellow like you isn't on the same level as your filthy
+mongrel."
+
+"I never said we was," murmured Raffles, as he shuffled away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+HODGSON'S QUIETUS
+
+
+Acton now felt pretty safe as regards young Bourne. He held him fast in
+the double bonds of indebtedness and of gratitude, and with Jack the
+gratitude was by far the greater. Acton had saved him from disgrace,
+from a lengthened stringing up, from the scorn of his brother, from the
+jeers and laughter of the rest of the fellows. Like others, he could
+have stood Corker's rage better than the jokes of his cronies. He was
+received back into the fold of his own particular set with more _eclat_
+than he felt he deserved.
+
+"Here's old Bourne gone and sacked Acton," said Grim.
+
+"Sure Acton hasn't sacked him?" suggested Rogers.
+
+"Best fellow breathing," said Bourne, fervently.
+
+"Still, he's Biffen's."
+
+"I don't care whether he's a water-lily or not--he can't help that, you
+know, poor fellow."
+
+"Why should he? Aren't we cock house?"
+
+"Where would you have been if Acton hadn't lifted you out of your muddy
+pond, and let you see a little sunlight?"
+
+"You should be his fag," said Grim.
+
+"I'd jolly well like to," said Jack. "I'd black his boots almost."
+
+"He's a dozen pairs," said Grim.
+
+"Write a poem on his virtues," suggested Rogers.
+
+"Shut up this rot," said Wilson. "Let's try a run round the Bender--last
+fellow stands tea at Hoopers."
+
+"Carried, _nem. con_.," said Grim, who was pretty speedy.
+
+And the reunited half-dozen cronies ran the three miles out and ditto
+home, Wilson subsequently standing tea, for, as he pathetically
+explained, "I was overhauling Rogers hand over hand when I slipped my
+shoe, else he'd have had to fork out." Thus Jack became again for a
+while the common or garden variety of school-boy, and he enjoyed the
+change.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Phil Bourne came into my room the same evening that saw Jack Bourne
+released from the toils of Raffles.
+
+"Busy, old man?"
+
+"Not at all," said I, pushing away my books. "Jolly glad you've come
+in."
+
+"There's a bit of news for you. I've just been in the gym. I fancy the
+old school will pull off the 'Heavy' at Aldershot."
+
+"Has Hodgson turned out so jolly well, then?"
+
+"Hodgson! Oh no! Hodgson isn't going to be the school's representative
+this year, I fancy."
+
+"Why, have you been in form to-night?"
+
+"Look here, old man, you are quite out of it. You sit here reading up
+all that ancient lore about the cestus, and you could tell me the names
+of all Nero's gladiators, and yet here at this establishment we've got a
+gladiator who is going to make history, and you don't know it."
+
+"I thought you were the only fellow who could show Hodgson anything."
+
+"No," said Phil. "I never was as good as Hodgson. I always made a point
+of making him go all the way to win on principle, but he always had a
+pull more or less over me. You see, Hodgson is lazy, and he wanted some
+one to challenge the right to represent the school, or I don't fancy
+he'd have put in enough good work to stand much chance against the Eton
+man. Therefore I stepped into the breach, and, by sweating him, have
+made Hodgson from a very fair boxer into a good one--good, but nothing
+super-excellent."
+
+"Then who's been lying low all this time?"
+
+"Acton."
+
+"_Acton?_" said I, in utter astonishment. "Why, didn't our dear Theodore
+dress him down once for losing his temper in the gym?"
+
+"He did, my boy, and Acton repaid the compliment to-night--with
+interest. He opened our eyes for us. I'm telling the bare truth when I
+say that he simply played with Theodore, and at the third round he as
+good as knocked him out."
+
+I stared into the fire for a minute or two, thinking out this news.
+
+"Eureka!" said I. "I've found it!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"The reason Acton crops up here. He cannot forget an injury. Hodgson
+humbled him once, and so Acton must needs take away from Theodore his
+own peculiar pet ambition, which is to represent St. Amory's at
+Aldershot in the Heavy."
+
+"I wish," said Phil, gloomily, "Biffen's Beauty's schemes always worked
+out so well for the school's honour. He'll represent St. Amory's without
+a doubt."
+
+"Is he so very good, then?"
+
+"Super-excellent, old fellow! Prodigious!" said Phil, with genuine
+admiration. "We'll all sleep with both ears on the pillow when the
+telegram comes from Aldershot. Such a left! He has a swinging, curly
+stroke which he uses after an artful little feint which would win the
+final by itself. Hodgson really seemed trying to catch quick-silver when
+he tried to get home on Acton. Where did Acton learn all this? The
+sergeant hasn't got that artful mis-hit in his bag of tricks."
+
+"Don't speculate on Acton's doings or where he picks up what he knows.
+It's too intricate."
+
+"What a pity one can't go and shake his hand as one would like to do. He
+is a marvel--this dark horse," said Phil, with genuine regret, as always
+when speaking of Acton.
+
+"Our _bete noir_," said I, without winking.
+
+"You heathen," said Phil, laughing. "That was almost a pun. But I'm
+afraid I'm a bit selfish in my joy about Acton. Since he's a certainty,
+I can devote all my mighty mind to rackets. I don't think there is a
+better pair in the place than Vercoe and self at present."
+
+"Oh, thou modest one!"
+
+"'Toby' always finishes up 'When you and Mr. Vercoe goes to Queen's
+Club, Mr. Bourne, I advise you, etc.' So, 'Toby' evidently has no doubt
+who's to go there."
+
+"Toby" Tucker was our racket professional, and when he spotted a pair
+for the public-school rackets, Fenton, the master who finally chose the
+pair, never said "Nay." "Toby" was incorruptible. With both his little
+eyes fixed inexorably on merit, the greatest joys of his life were
+consummated when the St. Amory's pair brought the championship home.
+
+"Congratulate you, old man. If Acton pulls off the Aldershot and you and
+Vercoe the rackets--"
+
+"If I only felt as confident on our lifting that as I do of Acton
+bringing off his, I'd go straightway and smother 'Toby.' He almost works
+one to death."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+HOW THEY "'ELPED THE PORE FELLER"
+
+
+As a rule, the laboratory was empty on half-holidays, and Gus used to
+work through his tables in solitude, when he tried a little
+"bottle-washing" as a change from the refereeing, but one afternoon he
+found no less a person than W.E. Grim, the prize fag of Biffen's, doing
+something very seriously with a green powder.
+
+"Hullo, young 'un! What are you footling round here for?"
+
+"Lancaster has given me this salt to analyze, Todd. I think there's
+copper in it."
+
+"What have you been up to, that Lancaster has run you in? Half-holiday,
+too!"
+
+"He hasn't run me in," said Grim, sulkily. "As a special favour he's let
+me come in here to work a little myself. I did a ripping chemistry paper
+last week, and--"
+
+"Oh, I see. Are _you_ going to give Biffen's another leg up, too?"
+
+"Just as soon as you give Taylor's one," said Grim, who, in common with
+all the juniors, did not fear the easy-going Todd.
+
+"No cheek!" said Gus. "If I mixed up coal-dust and brick-dust, how'd
+you separate 'em?"
+
+"Ask my grandmother for a telescope, and look out the mix through the
+butt end."
+
+"Quite so," said Todd, chuckling. "I suppose you've given me a specimen
+of Biffen's latest brand of wit. Well, don't make too big a row in
+hunting for your copper, and then I'll not chuck you out."
+
+Grim murmured something disparaging Todd's authority for chucking out,
+but Gus languidly sidled off to his own particular bench, where, out of
+sight of Grim, he prepared to do an afternoon's quiet work.
+
+Meanwhile Grim's particular cronies, Wilson, Rogers, Sharpe, Poulett,
+and young Bourne, arrayed in all the glory of mud-stained footer-togs,
+after vainly waiting outside Biffen's, were seeking high and low for the
+copper-hunting chemist, who, for many reasons, had kept his afternoon's
+plan very dark. He knew only too well that his beloved chums would not
+hear of an afternoon's work, and would head him off either to footer or
+a run round the Bender. Therefore, immediately after dinner, he had made
+an unostentatious exit, and reached the laboratory in safety.
+
+"Where _is_ Grimmy?" said Sharpe.
+
+"Dunno," said Wilson.
+
+"Did he know of our six-a-side against Merishall's lot?"
+
+"Rather! Said he hoped we'd win."
+
+"_We!_ Why, is he backing out, then?"
+
+"Well, we've waited for him half an hour, and there's no sign of him
+yet--look's like it."
+
+"What is up with him, I wonder?" said Poulett.
+
+"Seemed rather mysterious this morning--rather stand-offish to my idea.
+Perhaps, though, he's only guzzling buns or swilling coffee somewhere.
+Let's see."
+
+The quintette thereupon spread themselves out, but every shop was drawn
+blank.
+
+"Rum!" said Rogers. "Where can the ass be?"
+
+"If we knew, Solomon, would we try to find out?" said Sharpe.
+
+"I say, you fellows--I've got an idea about Grimmy. Didn't Lancaster
+give him a leg-up for his chemistry the other day? Permission to footle
+in the lab. on half-holidays, and all the rest of it? Grim was no end
+cocky over that."
+
+"Grimmy waste a 'halfer' bottle-washing! Rot! That isn't his form,
+Wilson."
+
+"If," said Poulett, impressively, "he _has_ sunk so low, we must give
+him an 'elpin' 'and, pore feller!"
+
+"Rather. If Lancaster has put the cover over old Grimmy we must get him
+out somehow. Let's adjourn to see."
+
+The honourable five forthwith moved over to the laboratory, and Grim
+received his beloved cronies with hot blushes and a rather nervous
+manner.
+
+"I say, you chaps, what do you want?"
+
+"What did we want?" said Bourne, as though he'd forgotten it. "What was
+it, Rogers?"
+
+"A fellow, formerly Grimmy, not a nasty bottle-washer," said Rogers,
+more in sorrow than in anger.
+
+"But yesterday and Grimmy was an average back, and now he's holding up
+some filthy brew to the sunlight to see how muddy it is. Oh, my great
+aunt!" chimed in Wilson.
+
+"How are the mighty fallen!" gasped Sharpe.
+
+"Look here, you fellows--" began Grim, with still more vivid blushes
+mantling his noble face.
+
+"'Ear, 'ear! speech! speech! withdraw! apologize!"
+
+"I'm not ashamed of being here and doing a little chemistry for my own
+amusement, so there; and you fellows had better cut before Lancaster
+comes and runs you all in."
+
+"That is all right, Grimmy. Lancaster's sporting a silk tile, so he's
+off to town. To think of your cutting our six-a-side to puff down a
+dirty blow-pipe! Come out, you idiot, and get into your footer togs!"
+said Sharpe.
+
+"I'm not coming, I tell you."
+
+"Insanity in the family, evidently," observed Poulett, judicially.
+
+"Aren't you coming, really?"
+
+"No, I'm not; do get out and leave me alone!"
+
+"Never!" said Poulett. "We'll stay with him and see him through the fit,
+eh?"
+
+"Rather! We'll never desert you, Grimmy!"
+
+"We'll let the six-a-side slide for this afternoon, and we'll help
+Grimmy with his salt," suggested the egg-poacher, brilliantly; and any
+amount of hidden meaning was in the word "help."
+
+"We will! we will!" cried the rest, spotting Poulett's idea instanter,
+with enthusiastic joy; and despite Grim's frenzied declamation and
+eloquence they all "helped."
+
+For two hours--as lively a couple of hours as ever were passed within
+the laboratory--Gus lay low behind the far bench and enjoyed the
+afternoon's performance far more than Grim. The green powder underwent
+some weird experiments, each of the quintette availing himself of Grim's
+knowledge and test-tubes and acid-bottles with the utmost freedom. The
+analysis of Lancaster's mixture gave various results, but when Rogers
+"found" rhubarb and black-lead this was held the correct find, and after
+this verdict the generous five put up the test-tubes in the rack. They
+all said Rogers had settled the matter, and anyway they had had a jolly
+time.
+
+"Understand," observed Poulett, as he washed away some acid stains from
+his bare knees, "that Grimmy is not ashamed of his black-lead and
+rhubarb hunt."
+
+"Why those vivid blushes, then?"
+
+"We never bargained that old Grim would copy that Fifth Form ass, Todd,
+and chum up with Lancaster, did we?"
+
+"What did you say about Todd?" inquired Grim, suavely.
+
+"Said he was an ass."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"An ass, a jackass, a howling jackass!" cried Poulett, _crescendo_.
+
+"How?"
+
+"Remember Corker pitching into him? Said he wasn't fit for a decent
+nursery, and Toddy had his mouth open all the time."
+
+[Illustration: THE GREEN POWDER UNDERWENT SOME WEIRD EXPERIMENTS]
+
+"Bully Cotton has given Toddy up. Toddy was too big an ass even for
+Cotton," remarked Wilson.
+
+"He looks fairly intelligent," observed Grim, in a gentle whisper.
+
+"So did you, almost, till you started fooling like this."
+
+Grim artistically kept the conversation on Todd, and Gus learned how
+like an ass each individual of the quintette thought him. He smiled
+gently at Grim's astuteness in paying him out so neatly for his previous
+friendly remarks about chucking out. When the first stroke of the
+roll-call bell reached the laboratory he emerged solemnly and with state
+from his retreat, and stalked quietly through the knot of his outspoken
+critics, who were instantly besieged by a variety of emotions. He closed
+the laboratory door after him, and, when he saw the key outside, the
+temptation to repay the left-handed compliments of Poulett and Co. in
+their own coin was too strong. Gus gently turned the key, and was
+halfway down the corridor before the band arrived at the locked door.
+
+"Let us out!" shrieked Rogers. "We'll apologize all of us--won't we,
+Poulett?"
+
+"Yes!" yelled Poulett. "Anything! Oh, Todd, do let us out!"
+
+But Todd went on his way, serenely ignoring the frantic appeals behind
+him, and turned out into the street with a sweet smile on his face.
+
+"That beast, Todd, has gone, and Merishall will ladle us out three
+hundred of Virgil for missing call-over," moaned Bourne.
+
+"It's four hundred, if Merishall takes it," said Rogers, with dire
+conviction.
+
+"Not for me," said Grim, beaming cheerfully around; "I'm all right. I'll
+tell Merishall that the door was locked; but as for you five idiots, who
+oughtn't to be here at all--well! What the dickens did you want to call
+old Toddy all those fancy names for, you silly cuckoos?"
+
+"Oh, look here, Grim, you artful bounder," shouted Poulett, bitterly,
+"you've got us into this mess. Why didn't you say Todd was behind those
+back benches?"
+
+"Yes, why?" shouted the rest of the raging fags. "We'll scrag you for
+this, darling. Cuckoos are we? Scrag him--put him in the scrum."
+
+W.E. Grim had a very bad five minutes, but when he crawled out of the
+scrum, hot, damaged, and dusty, he said viciously--
+
+"I hope Merishall gives you a thou., you beastly cads. You've mucked up
+my afternoon, and I'm hanged if I don't tell Lancaster."
+
+Ten minutes after roll-call the janitor let them out, and shortly
+afterwards a wretched procession of five emerged from Merishall's room
+with two hundred lines from Virgil hanging over each head for a missed
+call-over without excuse. Grim worked an artistic revenge on his
+scrummagers by calling personally the next half-holiday to inquire if
+they would prefer to analyze a green salt or to play a six-a-side
+against Merishall's lot. In every instance a Virgil hurtled towards his
+head. Having done his duty to his friends, he left them to pious AEneas
+and the slope of Avernus, whilst he got another salt from the
+science-master, and, with Gus, possessed the laboratory in peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+ACTON'S TRUMP CARD
+
+
+On the Saturday before we should go home Acton was due at Aldershot, and
+would return the same night, as the fellows hoped, with his laurels
+thick upon him. Bourne and Vercoe were staying at school a week later
+than we, for the rackets did not come off until our holidays had
+commenced. Toby had begged for this almost with tears in his eyes, for
+he had a mortal dread of the relaxing process of a week at home.
+
+"You'd have no 'ands, Mr. Bourne, no spring, no eyes, when you toed the
+mark at Kensington. I'll send you fit if I have you here."
+
+So Vercoe and Phil agreed to stay.
+
+And now Acton determined to put into operation his long-thought-of
+scheme for the paying off of the score against Phil. It was subtle, and
+founded on a perfect knowledge of Bourne's character, and a perfect
+disregard of the consequences to any one--even including himself. Acton
+would have willingly martyred himself, if he could have inflicted a
+little of the torments on Bourne too.
+
+There was one rule from which Dr. Moore never swerved a hair's breadth.
+Compared to this particular law the stringency of the Old Game
+regulation for Thursday was lax indeed. He never had departed from it,
+and he never would depart from it. If any fellow took it into his head
+to slip out of his house after lights out at ten on any pretence
+whatever he was expelled. There was some legend in connection with this
+severity, what exactly none of us rightly knew, but according to the
+tale the escapade of two fellows years ago, when Corker was new to the
+place, had resulted in one of the fellows being shot. Twice had he
+expelled fellows while I was at school--Remington and Cunningham--and I
+cannot ever forget the old man's deathlike face as he told them to go.
+Some fellows broke out and were not found out, for Corker wasn't going
+to have any barred windows as in some places. Any one _could_ break out
+any night he liked, but he knew what he might expect if he were caught.
+There was no help. Remington had been found out, and though there had
+been Remingtons in the school since Anne's reign, Corker was inexorable.
+He was expelled.
+
+In a word, Acton determined to go to London and to take young Bourne
+with him, and so risk certain expulsion for both, supposing they were
+discovered. He had no intention of being expelled, though; for he liked
+the life at St. Amory's, where incense floated round him all day long,
+but he meant, when he had accomplished the ruin of Jack, to let Bourne
+senior know it. Acton gloated in advance over Phil's anger, shame, and
+consternation, and--this was the cream of the joke--his utter inability
+to do anything except keep silence and chew the bitter cud of hopeless
+rage against him--the man to whom he would not give the footer cap.
+Acton never thought of Jack's share in the matter at all, and yet he was
+genuinely fond of him; all he thought of was what would be Philip's
+hopeless rage.
+
+Phil, of course, could say nothing to Corker, for he knew it would be
+hopeless. And Acton knew that Phil's pride could never bear the idea of
+Jack--a Bourne--being expelled from the old place. Therefore he would
+keep silence. I don't think I used the wrong adjective when I said it
+was subtle. The only question was--could he so manage that Jack would
+go? And Acton for good reasons was pretty certain that he could.
+
+Jack was staidly taking a turn up and down the pavement with Grim when,
+on passing by Biffen's house, he heard a whistle from one of the
+windows, and, on looking up, he saw Acton.
+
+"I want you, Bourne, for five minutes--if you can spare them."
+
+"Of course he can," said Grim, _sotto voce_. "Aren't you a monitor?
+Jack, my boy, Acton wants to knight you--or something. You'll find his
+boots in the bottom cupboard, if you want to black 'em very much. I
+suppose, being only a common or garden fag, my feelings aren't to be
+considered for a moment. When you were--for once--talking sensibly for a
+Corker fag, you are called away to----"
+
+"Cork all that frivol, old man, till you see me at tea," said Jack,
+moving into Biffen's yard.
+
+When Jack was comfortably installed in a chair, Acton bolted his door,
+and, somewhat to young Bourne's surprise, seemed rather in a fix how to
+start what he had to say. The locking of the door was unusual, and this,
+combined with Acton's grave face and hesitating manner, made Jack a
+trifle uneasy. Whatever was coming?
+
+"I say, Bourne," at last said his friend, "do you know anything about
+betting?"
+
+"Betting!" said Jack, with a vivid blush. "About as much as most of the
+fellows know of it. Not more."
+
+"Well, do you mind reading this?" He handed Jack a slip of paper which
+contained such cryptic sentences as: "Grape Shot gone wrong, though he
+will run. Pocket Book is the tip. If you're on Grape Shot, hedge on best
+terms you can get," etc.
+
+"I understand that," said Jack, "you've--if this means you--you've
+backed the wrong horse."
+
+"Exactly," said Acton. "I backed Grape Shot for the Lincolnshire
+Handicap, and he hasn't a ghost of a chance now. Gone wrong."
+
+"I see," said Jack, absolutely staggered that Acton, a monitor, should
+tell him, a fag, that he was betting on horse-racing.
+
+"I see, young 'un, that you seem surprised at my little flutter, but, by
+Jove! this will have to be my last. Do you know, Bourne, I'm in an awful
+hole."
+
+"I'm very sorry to hear it," said Jack, with no end of concern.
+
+"You see, if Pocket Book pulls the handicap off before I've time to trim
+my sails, I lose a lot."
+
+"Much," said Jack, "_for you?_"
+
+"Thirty pounds."
+
+"Whew!" whistled Bourne.
+
+"I get a good allowance from home, Bourne, but I'm bound to say thirty
+pounds would cripple me."
+
+"Rather," said Jack, with a gasp.
+
+"Of course, if the worst did come to the worst, I'd have to apply to
+home; but there would be, as you might guess, no end of a row about it."
+
+"Then you must hedge," said Jack.
+
+"That is it, exactly. I must back Pocket Book for first place. This is a
+sure tip--I can depend upon it."
+
+"Then send to the fellow you bet with, and let him put you on Pocket
+Book."
+
+"That is just it, Jack--the bookmaker wouldn't take a bet from me."
+
+"Why ever not?" said Jack, mystified.
+
+"Because I'm a minor--I'm under age."
+
+"Then how do you manage?" said Jack.
+
+"Why, I bet through another man."
+
+"I see," said Jack, for this was but another edition of his own little
+adventures. "And that man----"
+
+"Is Raffles," said Acton, quietly.
+
+Jack bounced out of his chair as if he had been stung. "That beast!" he
+gasped.
+
+"Raffles?" said Acton, with a slow smile. "I didn't know he was a
+beast."
+
+"He is the meanest skunk alive," said Jack. He added fervently, "Acton,
+have no dealings with that fellow. He is an abominable sharper."
+
+"Thanks," said Acton, with a slight grimace at Jack's advice. "But, all
+the same, I have to deal through Raffles."
+
+"Then write to the fellow."
+
+"I don't know--I've forgotten his address."
+
+"Well, I'm hanged if I understand it!" said Jack, lost in astonishment.
+"If you don't know it, and your bookmaker will only bet through Raffles,
+you are in a hole--a marvellously deep one."
+
+"There's only one way out--find Raffles."
+
+"And that you can't do."
+
+"And that I think I can do by going to London."
+
+"Well, we're off for the holidays on Tuesday, and you can find Raffles
+then."
+
+"I should be hopelessly too late if I waited till then. It would be
+almost ruinous to be put on to Pocket Book in a day's time. I must hedge
+to-night."
+
+"To-night?" said Jack, in a complete fog. "And you haven't found
+Raffles!"
+
+"No, but I think I know where to find him to-night. You know the Coon is
+having a match with the Battersea Beauty at the Universal Sporting Club,
+and Raffles is pretty sure to be there, and I must see him then."
+
+"But that means going to London, Acton."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And Corker would expel you--even you."
+
+"Without a doubt--if he finds out."
+
+"There's a chance that he may."
+
+"Certainly, but it's a mighty slender one, and in any case I mean to--I
+_must_--risk it."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry for you."
+
+"Now, Jack, I want you to listen to me," said Acton, very gravely, and
+his voice showed his genuine anxiety. "The Coon's match does not
+commence until eleven o'clock at night, because an awful lot of the
+Universal Sporters are actors and they cannot get away before that time
+at earliest. Now, there are two entrances for the members into the club,
+one in Pelican Street and the other in Ridge Street. Raffles must enter
+by one or the other, and there must be some one at each doorway to give
+him my note. I can take the one, and the question is--who will take the
+second doorway?"
+
+"Not I, Acton," said Jack, in a blue funk. "Please, Acton, don't ask
+me."
+
+"Jack, believe me, you were the last person I wanted to ask. I would
+have asked Worcester or Chalmers if it had been any good, but they would
+not know Raffles from Adam. It is ten thousand pities, but you are the
+only fellow who knows Raffles here. No one else has ever set eyes on
+him."
+
+"Acton, it means expulsion," said Jack, hoarsely.
+
+"Certainly for me if I'm caught, but, of course, I've no idea of being
+caught. Jack, I'm not going to ask you to come with me. I shall think no
+worse of you if you say you won't come, and I cannot take advantage
+over you to force you against your own wish, because I lent you money.
+Don't think so meanly of me."
+
+"Acton," said Jack, sweating drops of terror, "it _is_ expulsion if
+we're caught."
+
+"Jack," said Acton, "have you ever known me to fail yet in anything I
+undertake?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, I _will_ not fail here. If you like I'll give you my word of
+honour we shall not be caught, and, if by a miracle of ill-luck we
+should be, I shall see you through. I'll take every iota of blame on my
+own shoulders. You'll find yourself captain of the school one day yet."
+
+"If I were expelled, Acton," said Jack, with intense conviction, "the
+pater would kill me first, and die himself afterwards; and as for
+Phil----"
+
+"Jack," said Acton, "I must see the business through myself. You can't
+do it, I see. I must lose the L30."
+
+Jack got up and walked up and down the room in agony.
+
+For five minutes Acton watched his wretched prey torn to pieces by his
+conflicting fears--his shame of leaving Acton in the lurch, and his
+dread of discovery.
+
+"Acton," said Jack at length, "I can't leave you in the lurch. I'll go
+with you to London."
+
+Acton clasped Jack's hand, and said, "Jack, you are a brick. I can only
+say I thank you." He had landed his fish, as he knew he would.
+
+Half an hour afterwards Jack said, almost cheerfully, for Acton had
+been doing his best to smooth poor Bourne's ruffled feathers--
+
+"But how are we to go to town?"
+
+"I've got a plan," said Acton; "but I must turn it over in my mind
+first. If you'll look in, young 'un, after tea, I'll tell you how we do
+it. I'm going to see about it now. Once again, Jack, I thank you. You do
+stand by a fellow when he's down on his luck."
+
+Acton and Jack went out--the monitor to make arrangements for the
+escapade, and Jack to Grim's quarters, where he was due for tea, which
+he demolished with comparative cheerfulness, for Jack's confidence in
+Acton was illimitable. After he had taken the jump he was not--is not
+now--the kind of boy to look back.
+
+At six young Bourne left his friend Grim among a waste of empty teacups,
+plates, and jam-pots, and went to Acton's room.
+
+"I've arranged all," said that worthy. "I've seen the proprietor of the
+hotel down at Bring, and he's going to have a smart dog-cart and a
+smarter horse to do the dozen miles between here and Charing Cross ready
+for us at nine. He says we shall be rattled into town within the hour.
+So if we aren't in time to spot Raffles we are down on our luck with a
+vengeance. Your room is on the ground floor, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes," said Jack, "overlooking Corker's flowerbeds."
+
+"Well, pull up the window after supper as quietly as you can, and slip
+into the garden. Then scoot through the field, and you'll find me
+waiting for you in the hotel stables. You can pass the word to your
+chums in Corker's that you aren't going to be on show after supper, and
+then they won't be routing you out."
+
+"My chums are mostly in Biffen's," said Jack. "Grim and Rogers, etc."
+
+"Good omen," said Acton. "Leave your window so that you can easily shove
+it up when you come back, and leave your school cap behind, and bring a
+tweed instead. Got such an article?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How's your room lighted?"
+
+"Oh, we have the electric. It is switched off at ten, so that the light
+will not give any trouble, Acton."
+
+"Well, bolt your door, too. It seems as though the fates were fighting
+for us, eh, young 'un?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+LONDON AND BACK
+
+
+At nine that night the two, as agreed upon, met at Dring in the hotel
+stables. There had been no mishaps.
+
+The groom was busy putting the horse into the trap, and, when Jack saw
+what a really smart turn-out Acton had engaged, his fears began to
+occupy less of his thoughts and the pleasures of a rattling hour's spin
+a jolly lot more. Punctually to the minute Jack climbed up beside the
+driver, the place of honour, and Acton swung himself up behind; the yard
+doors were flung open, and the gig rattled smartly out. The hotel
+proprietor had not chanted the praises of his horse in vain. On the
+level road it laid itself out to go for all it was worth.
+
+The pleasant music of the jingling harness and the scurrying of the
+wheels made as jolly a tune as Jack could wish to hear. There was a
+touch of frost in the air, which made the quick motion of the gig bite
+shrewdly on his cheeks, and made him button up his overcoat to the chin
+and settle his cap well over his ears. Acton threw out jokes, too, from
+behind, which made Jack feel no end clever to listen to them, and the
+driver now and then restrained his horse's "freshness" with the soothing
+mellow whistle which only drivers possess. The farmhouses, hayricks, and
+an occasional village, drifted past now to the right, now to the left,
+and occasionally they overhauled a leisurely belated cyclist, who at
+once began to take an unimportant position in the rear, his lamp growing
+less and less down the stretch of long white road.
+
+Soon the houses began to come more frequently, then came the streets
+with their long avenues of yellow lights, and within the hour they were
+rolling smoothly over the wooden pavements.
+
+"Piccadilly," said Acton. "Drop us at the top of Whitehall, will you?
+Then you can take the horse to the mews. Be ready for us outside
+Frascati's by twelve. Understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir, at Frascati's by twelve! I know the place." A minute or two
+later the two swung off in Trafalgar Square, and the driver rattled away
+into the crowd.
+
+Jack was delighted. "Spiffing run, Acton, eh?"
+
+"Glad you liked it, young 'un. Now let us localize the Universal
+Sporting Club. I know it's about Covent Garden somewhere." Together they
+went up the crowded Strand, Jack enjoying every minute of the bustling
+walk to the Garden and imagining that he was a very much daring young
+desperado to be so far from his little white bunk at St. Amory's. He
+would have been usually fast asleep by this time.
+
+The Universal Sporting Club was not a difficult place to find, and
+though all its windows were lighted up, upon its fast shut doors were
+two little notices: "This door will be open at 11 p.m. None but members
+and friends admitted."
+
+"Well," said Acton, "we've got about twenty minutes before there's any
+particular need to begin our watch for Raffles, but some of the members
+are hanging round now. The early birds get the best perch for the show.
+On the whole, perhaps you'd better prowl about this door now, whilst I
+go round the corner and see if I can run our fox to his earth."
+
+"All serene," said Jack. "I'll mark time out here till I see you."
+
+Acton walked round the corner, and Jack perambulated about, peering into
+the faces of the idlers to see if he could spot the well-known and
+much-detested face of Raffles. He had (of course) no luck.
+
+Five minutes afterwards Acton came back smiling. "Almost first fellow I
+ran against was Raffles, and I've given him his instructions. He'll
+hedge for me with the bookie within five minutes."
+
+"So you're quite safe now, Acton?" said Jack, beaming.
+
+"Oh, quite," said Acton, laughing. "Now, Jack, you've been no end
+brickish, and I'm going to treat you. Ever seen a ballet?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, you shall."
+
+A hansom flitted slowly up to them, and Acton hailed it. "In you get,
+Jack. Kingdom!" said Acton to the cabby. They glided noiselessly
+through the lighted streets, and in a minute or so were before the
+"Kingdom Theatre." The two hurried up the steps, and Acton asked an
+attendant if the ballet were rung up yet.
+
+"No, sir. Two stalls, sir? Certainly. Twelve and thirteen are vacant."
+
+Jack had never seen a ballet before, and when the gorgeous ballet
+"Katrina" slowly passed before his eyes, and he followed the simple
+story which was almost interpreted by the lovely music, when every fresh
+scene seemed lovelier than all the rest, and fairyland was realized
+before his eyes, his face beamed with pleasure.
+
+"This _is_ ripping, Acton. Isn't Katrina lovely? Jove! I'd hunt for
+Raffles every blessed night if there was a 'Kingdom' to finish up with!"
+
+His enthusiasm amused Acton.
+
+"It is very pretty, Jack, certainly."
+
+For nearly an hour did Jack sit entranced, and when the orchestra
+crashed out the last floods of melody in the _finale_, and when most of
+the audience rose to go, he trotted out with Acton in a dream.
+
+"We'll have a little supper at Frascati's, young 'un, and then home."
+
+Frascati's completed the enchantment of Bourne. The beauty of the
+supper-room, the glitter of snowy linen, of mirrors, and the inviting
+crash of knives, and the clink of glasses, the busy orderliness of the
+waiters, the laughter, chatter of the visitors, the scents, the sights
+and sounds, fascinated him. Acton ordered a modest little supper, and
+when Jack had finally pushed away his plate Acton paid the bill, and
+went out to find the driver. He was there, the horse almost waltzing
+with impatience to be off. The two swung themselves up, and in another
+minute they were whirling along back to St. Amory's.
+
+The St. Amory's clock could be heard striking the half hour after one
+when Jack and Acton parted at the corner of Corker's garden.
+
+"Jack," said Acton, "good night! and you need not trouble about the L7.
+You've done more for me than that, and I shall not forget it."
+
+Jack, almost weeping with gratitude, said, "Good night, Acton!" in a
+fervent whisper, and scuttled over Corker's flower-beds. He pushed up
+his window and crawled through, and, seeing that all was as he had left
+it after supper, he undressed and jumped into bed, and in a few minutes
+slept the sleep of the just.
+
+Acton had managed his re-entrance just as successfully--did he ever
+fail?--and the thought of Bourne's hopeless rage, when he should find
+out about Jack's escapade, made him sleep the sleep of the happy man. He
+was made that way.
+
+[Illustration: HE PUSHED UP HIS WINDOW AND CRAWLED THROUGH.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE PENFOLD TABLET FUND
+
+
+The Easter term had been one of unadulterated discomfort for Jim Cotton.
+He had felt the loss of Gus's helping hand terribly, and he had not yet
+found another ass to "devil" for him in the way of classics or
+mathematics. Philips, a former understudy to Gus, was called upon, but
+with unsatisfactory results, and Cotton, _mirabile dictu_, was compelled
+in sheer desperation to try to do his own work. Frankly, the Fifth of
+St. Amory's was beyond Jim's very small attainments, classical or
+otherwise. He had been hoisted up to that serene height by no means
+_honoris causa_, but _aetatis causa_. Jim was verging on six feet, and
+he filled his clothes very well into the bargain, and though his
+scholarship was strictly junior school, the spectacle of Jim in Fourth
+Form Etons would have been too entrancing a sight for daily
+contemplation. Hence he had got his remove. Thrown over by Gus, unable
+to discover a second jackal for the term so far, he had been left to the
+tender mercy of Corker, Merishall and Co., and Jim was inclined to think
+that they showed no quarter to a fallen foe. Corker had been distilled
+venom on the particular morning with which this chapter deals on the
+subject of Jim's Greek. Herodotus, as translated by Jim with the help of
+a well-thumbed Bohn's crib, had emerged as a most unalluring mess of
+pottage, and Dr. Moore had picked out Bohn's plums from Jim's paste with
+unerring accuracy. Whilst Cotton was wishing the roof would fall down on
+Corker's head and kill him, the other fellows in the Fifth were enjoying
+the fun. Gus Todd, though, felt for his old friend more than a touch of
+pity, and when old Corker left Jim alone finally, Gus very cleverly kept
+his attention away from Jim's quarter. When Corker finally drew his toga
+around him and hurried out, Jim Cotton gathered together his own books
+and lounged heavily into the street, sick of school, books, Corker, and
+hating Gus with a mighty sullen hate. For Jim had remarked Gus's
+sprightliness in the Greek ordeal, but was not clever enough to see that
+Gus's performance had been only for old friendship's sake. Jim, however,
+put down Todd's device as mere "side," "show-off," "toadyism," and other
+choice things, all trotted out specially for his eyes. When he reached
+his room he flung his Herodotus into the nearest chair, and himself into
+the most comfortable one, and then beat a vicious serenade on his
+firegrate with the poker until dinner time.
+
+In the evening, while Jim was moodily planted before a small pile of
+books, he received a visitor, no less a personage than Philips, Jim's
+occasional hack.
+
+"Well," said Jim, surlily, "what do you want?"
+
+"I'll tell you in a minute, old boy. Can I have a chair?"
+
+"Can't you see I'm busy?" said Cotton, unamiably.
+
+"You look like it, more or less, certainly."
+
+"Well, I've no time for any oratory to-night, Philips, and that is all
+about it."
+
+"I'll give you a leg-up for Merishall in the morning if you're decently
+civil."
+
+"All right, then," said Jim, thawing instantly. "What's the matter?"
+
+"Ever heard of Penfold?"
+
+"No; what was the animal?"
+
+"Well, he was the brightest and most particular star that Taylor ever
+had in his house; that is, until you pitched your tent among us."
+
+"Don't rot, Philips. What has the Penfold done?"
+
+"Made a chemical discovery which stamps him as one of the first
+half-dozen chemists in the world."
+
+"Oh," said Jim, wearily; "most interestin', very."
+
+"Here only ten years ago, and, 'pon honour, this was his very den."
+
+"Have noticed the place to be stuffy," said Jim, with no enthusiasm,
+"and now that is explained. Suppose he lived with his nose in books and
+test-tubes?"
+
+"And," said Philips, ignoring Jim's heavy wit, "the Fifth and Sixth Form
+fellows in Taylor's think we ought to take notice of it somehow."
+
+"Now, I wouldn't," said Cotton, critically; "I'd keep a thing like that
+dark."
+
+"You heathen!"
+
+"If he'd pulled stroke at Cambridge, or anything like that----"
+
+"We thought a tablet on the wall, or something of that sort, would meet
+the case. Corker's dining-hall is lined with 'em."
+
+"Get to the point," said Jim, grimly.
+
+"A sub. of five shillings among seniors, and half a crown among the
+kids, would meet the case, I think."
+
+"And did you think I'd spring a crown for a marble tablet to a mug like
+Penfold?"
+
+"Rather," said Philips.
+
+"Well," said Jim, "life would be worth living here if it weren't for the
+unearthly smugging, but as it is St. Amory's is about as lively as a
+workhouse. I'm not forking out on this occasion. Taylor's smugs must do
+all that is necessary to be done."
+
+"Well," said Philips, "all the other fellows have given in their names,
+bar you and Todd."
+
+"Oh!" said Jim, with sudden interest, "you've asked Todd, have you?"
+
+"Of course. Gus seemed rather waxy that he should be called upon. One
+might almost fancy he hadn't got the five shillings."
+
+"Todd evidently is a miserable miser," said Jim, with a bitter smile at
+the thought of Gus's insolvent condition. "He isn't the same fellow he
+used to be."
+
+"Jove, no!" said Philips; "he's come on no end this term. He's an
+improvement on the old Gus."
+
+"Yes," said Jim, angrily; "the beaks have got him into their nets. But
+he ought to subscribe to the Penfold, when he's the biggest smug in
+Taylor's."
+
+"And you ought too, Jim, since you've the biggest money-bags."
+
+"All right," said Jim, "I'll subscribe. 'Twill look better if we all
+subscribe."
+
+"You're a funny ass, Cotton. I thought I was going to draw you blank.
+What's the reason for your sudden change of mind?"
+
+"I don't want to be bracketed equal with Toddy."
+
+"That's settled, then," said Philips, who was puzzled at Jim's sudden
+change of front. "And now let's see to Merishall's work for the
+morning."
+
+The subscriptions for a tablet in the great Penfold's honour were not
+hard to obtain, the upper form fellows in Taylor's dunning the rest of
+the house without mercy, and, to the great wonder of all, the foremost
+of the duns was James Cotton, Esq. The way he squeezed half-crowns out
+of the fags was reckoned little short of marvellous, and before the week
+was out every Taylor fellow had subscribed bar Gus. Jim's exertions were
+rewarded by the office of secretary to the Penfold Fund.
+
+"We'll get a house list, Philips, and pin up a proper subscription list
+on the notice-board. The thing will look more ship-shape then. By the
+way, what was it the Penfold did? Is he dead?"
+
+"You are a funny fellow, Cotton. Here you are sweating the half-crowns
+out of the fags and you don't know why you're doing it."
+
+"That is just what I do know," said Jim, smiling serenely.
+
+When the list was pinned up on the board, and opposite each fellow's
+name appeared the half-crown or crown he had contributed, it made a
+brave show. Towards the end of the list opposite the name of Todd,
+A.V.R., there had occurred a dismal blank thoughtfully filled by
+secretary Cotton with a couple of beautifully even lines ruled in
+staring red ink. This vivid dash of colour on the white paper gave poor
+Gus quite an unsolicited advertisement, and since none of the other
+fellows knew of Gus's circumstances, it practically put him in the
+pillory as a tight-fisted old screw. This result was exactly what Jim
+Cotton had in his mind when he fell in with the tablet scheme so
+enthusiastically. Pretty mean, wasn't it?
+
+When Gus saw the staring red abomination for the first time it made him
+feel that he would like to pour a little boiling oil over the secretary
+of the fund, for to a fellow of Gus's temperament the chaffing remarks
+of his acquaintances and the knowing looks of the juniors made him
+shiver with righteous anger. He did not like being pilloried. He had
+desperate thoughts of going and publicly kicking Cotton, but he
+remembered, fortunately, that Jim would probably only make one mouthful
+of him. But he paced his room angrily, and except that he really meant
+to keep himself to his resolution of honourable poverty to the term's
+end he would have written home. Not to do so cost him a struggle.
+
+There was some one else who eyed this plain manifesto of Gus's position
+with anger, and that was the Rev. E. Taylor himself. The house-master
+had not been a house-master for years for nothing, and he guessed pretty
+shrewdly that some one was writing off a debt with interest against Gus.
+The house-master made a still shrewder guess as to who this might be,
+for he had watched the dissolution of the partnership of Cotton and Todd
+with great interest.
+
+Thus it was that Philips was called into Taylor's room for a quiet
+little chat on house matters. "Your idea of a memento to Penfold was an
+excellent one, Philips, and the house seems to have taken it up very
+heartily."
+
+"Oh yes!" said Philips, naively. "The fellows have taken any amount of
+interest, especially Cotton."
+
+"Cotton's is rather a case of Saul among the prophets, isn't it,
+Philips?"
+
+"This sort of thing didn't quite seem his line before, sir."
+
+"No; I never thought so myself; but it is very pleasant to make a
+mistake, too. I see Todd, who is the best chemist in the house, does not
+subscribe at all."
+
+"Most of the fellows thought it rather strange."
+
+"And said so, no doubt?" said the master, looking abstractedly at his
+finger-nails.
+
+"H'm!" said Philips, feeling uncomfortable at this thrust. "They may
+have."
+
+"You see, Philips," said Taylor, gently, "there ought to have been no
+quizzing of Todd, for a contribution to a matter like this ought to be
+entirely voluntary--most emphatically so, I think. And if Todd does not
+see his way to subscribe--and he is the sole judge--there ought to be no
+remarks whatever."
+
+"I see, sir," said Philips, dubiously.
+
+"I was much annoyed to see that Todd's name has been prominently before
+the house for the last day or so."
+
+"You mean on the notice-board, sir?"
+
+"Yes; I can quite see why it is. The honorary secretary has not had much
+experience in this clerical work before, so he has fallen into a great
+mistake. In fact," said the house-master, bluntly, "the secretary's
+taste is not to be depended on."
+
+"I don't think Cotton meant anything----" began Philips.
+
+"Well, perhaps not," said the Rev. E. Taylor, doubtfully; "but, in any
+case, will you take down the present list, and draw up a fresh one--if
+you think one at all necessary--with only the names of subscribers upon
+it? A house list should not have been used at all. Please tell Cotton I
+said so, and I hope he will see the fairness of it."
+
+Philips took down the offending list, and told Cotton the house-master's
+opinions. Jim Cotton had not very quick feelings, but contempt can
+pierce the shell of a tortoise, and as Philips innocently retailed the
+message, the secretary of the Penfold Tablet Fund knew there was one man
+who held him a cad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+BOURNE _v._ ACTON
+
+
+Jack had gone to London with his patron on Thursday. On Saturday morning
+Acton went to Aldershot, carrying with him the hopes and good wishes of
+the whole of St. Amory's, and at night the school band had met him at
+the station. They (the band) struggled bravely--it was very windy--with
+"See, the Conquering Hero comes!" in front of the returned hero, who was
+"chaired" by frenzied Biffenites. The expected had happened. Acton had
+annihilated Rossal, Shrewsbury, and Harrow, and in the final had met the
+redoubtable Jarvis, from "Henry's holy shade." The delightful news
+circulated round St. Amory's that Acton had "made mincemeat" of Jarvis.
+He had not, but after a close battle had scrambled home first; he had
+won, and that was the main thing.
+
+As Acton walked into chapel on Sunday morning with Worcester, Corker got
+scant attention to his sermon; the fags to a man were thinking of
+Acton's terrible left. The gladiator lived in an atmosphere of incense
+for a whole day.
+
+As Phil Bourne was finishing breakfast on Monday morning his fag
+brought him his letters, and, after reading his usual one from home, he
+turned his attention to another one, whose envelope was dirty, and whose
+writing was laboriously and painfully bad amateur work.
+
+"Rotherhithe," said Phil, looking at the post-mark. "Who are my friends
+from that beauty spot?"
+
+I give the letter in all its fascinating simplicity.
+
+                              "Rotherhithe, Sunday.
+
+"Dear Sir,
+  "I was sory as how I did not see you on thursday night when you
+came with Acting to Covent garden to do a small hedging in the
+linkinsheer handicap. I think since you did a fare settle about the
+gunn and pade up my little bill like a mann you would deserve the show
+at the "Kindumm" and the blow out at that swell tuck shop as Mister
+Acting said he was going to treat you to for coming with him to london.
+I hopes you enjoyed em and As how that stiff necked old corker your
+beak--won't never find out.
+  "As you gave him the Propper slip and no Errer your beastly Chummy
+  "Daniel Raffles."
+
+The letter had evidently been meant for Jack, but had naturally reached
+Phil, since the envelope was directed to "Mr. Bourne."
+
+Bourne, when he had struggled to the end of this literary gem, dropped
+the letter like a red-hot coal. Was it a hoax, or had Jack really gone
+up to town, as the letter said?
+
+The "Mister Acting" made Phil's heart sink with dire forebodings.
+
+"Go and find young Bourne, Hinton, and tell him to come here to my study
+at once, or as soon as he's finished breakfast."
+
+Jack came in whistling a jolly tune; he was in full bloom, for had he
+not now left all his cares behind him?
+
+"You can cut, Hinton; and, Jack, take a chair and give me an explanation
+of this letter."
+
+Jack read Raffles' letter through to the bitter end, and wished he had
+never been born. Phil eyed his young brother, who had turned deathly
+white, with the horrible certainty that Jack had gone up to London.
+
+"Then it's true?" he said.
+
+No answer.
+
+"Jack, I know you could speak the truth once. Look at me. Did you go to
+London on Thursday night?"
+
+"Yes," said Jack, faintly.
+
+"Did Acton take you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You know that if Dr. Moore hears of it he will expel you."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You went to oblige Acton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did you ever think what pater would think if he heard about this?"
+
+[Illustration: "CUT, YOU MISERABLE PUPPY!"]
+
+Jack, as a matter of course, had thought many a time of what his father
+would think about the business, and when Phil in that level voice of his
+recalled him to this terrible point he broke down.
+
+"Phil, do not tell pater; he'd never forgive me! Nor Corker. Cut me into
+ribbons if you like, only don't let me be expelled."
+
+"Here," said Phil, "I don't want any snivelling in my room. Cut, you
+miserable puppy, to your own quarters, and when school is over keep to
+them till I come. You're a contemptible little puppy."
+
+Jack hurried out, crunching Raffles' letter in his fist. He went
+straight to Acton's room, and, bursting in whilst Acton was drinking his
+last cup of coffee, blurted out the dismal news. Jack was almost
+hysterical in his rage against Raffles.
+
+"Acton, I believe that filthy blackmailer meant Phil to get that letter:
+he wanted to round on me and get me into trouble. Oh!" said Jack, in a
+very explosion of futile rage, "if I could only pound his ugly face into
+a jelly."
+
+"Well, perhaps you'll have that pleasure one day, Jack. I hope so,
+anyhow. Now, straight, Jack, you need not be frightened of your brother
+saying a word. He could never risk Corker hearing of it, for he could
+not bear the chance of expulsion, so he'll lie low as far as Corker is
+concerned, take my word for it. He may hand you over to your father, but
+that, too, I doubt. He may give you a thrashing himself, which I fancy
+he will."
+
+"I don't mind that," said Jack. "I deserve something."
+
+"No, you don't, old man; and I'm fearfully sorry that I've got you into
+this hole. But your brother will certainly interview me."
+
+"I suppose so," said Jack, thoughtfully, even in his rage and shame. "I
+hope there is no row between you;" for the idea of an open quarrel
+between Phil and Acton made Jack rather qualmish.
+
+"You'd better cut now, Jack, and lie low till you find out when the
+hurricane is going to commence."
+
+Jack went away, and as the door closed softly behind him Acton smiled
+sweetly.
+
+"Well, Raffles has managed it nicely, and carried out my orders to the
+strokings of the t's. He is quite a genius in a low kind of way. And now
+I'm ready for Philip Bourne, Esq. I bet I'm a sight more comfortable
+than he is." Which was very true.
+
+I, of course, knew nothing of all these occurrences at the time, and the
+first intimation I had that anything was wrong was when Phil Bourne came
+into my room and gave me a plain unvarnished account, _sans_ comment, of
+Acton's and young Bourne's foolery in London.
+
+"I'm awfully glad, old man, that I am able to tell you this, because,
+although you're Captain of the school, you can't do anything, since
+Acton is a monitor."
+
+(It is an unwritten law at St. Amory's that one monitor can never, under
+any circumstances, "peach" upon another.)
+
+"Well, I'm jolly glad too, Bourne, since your brother's in it."
+
+"What has to be done to Acton? Jack, of course, was only a tool in his
+hands."
+
+"Oh, of course. It is perfectly certain that our friend engineered the
+whole business up to and including the letter, which _was_ meant for
+you."
+
+"Do you really think that?" said Phil.
+
+"I'm as certain of it as I can be of anything that I don't actually know
+to be true."
+
+"Why did he do it?"
+
+"Do you feel anything about this, old man?"
+
+"I feel in the bluest funk that I can remember."
+
+"Then, that's why."
+
+"You see, I cannot put my ringer on the brute."
+
+"He has you in a cleft stick. Who knows that better than Acton?"
+
+"I'm going to thrash Jack, the little idiot. I distinctly told him to
+give Acton a wide berth."
+
+"Jack, of course, is an idiot; but Acton is the fellow that wants the
+thrashing."
+
+Phil pondered over this for fully five minutes.
+
+"You're right, old man, and I'll give--I'll try to give--him the
+thrashing he deserves."
+
+"Big biz," said I. "You say you aren't as good as Hodgson; Hodgson isn't
+in the same street as Acton; _ergo_, you aren't in the same parish."
+
+"That's your beastly logic, Carr. Does a good cause count for nothing?"
+
+"Not for much, when you're dealing with sharps."
+
+"I see _you've_ inherited your pater's law books. The school goes home
+to-morrow, doesn't it? Well, my Lord Chief Justice, in what relation do
+you stand towards the school to-morrow? Are you Captain?"
+
+"No," said I, in my best legal manner. "There is no school
+to-morrow--_ergo_, there cannot be a captain of a non-existent thing.
+To-morrow is a _dies non_ as far as I'm concerned. Why this thirst for
+knowledge, Phil?"
+
+"Because I want you to be my second against Acton, and I didn't want
+your captaincy to aid or abet me in a thing which is against rules."
+
+"I see," said I, warmly, "and I will sink the rules and all the rest,
+and trust to a little rough justice being done on an arrant scamp."
+
+"Thanks," said Phil. "With you as second and a good cause, I ought to
+teach Acton a little genuine lesson."
+
+"I'd rather trust in a good straight left."
+
+"All right, then. I'll see Acton now, and bring him to the point."
+
+"Do, and let me have the result."
+
+Phil swung off in that cool, level-headed fashion which is peculiarly
+his own. He had thought the matter out thoroughly in that five minutes'
+brown study, and now that he had put his hand to the plough he would not
+look back. I liked the set shoulders and his even step down the
+corridor. Surely something must reach Acton now! He walked down the
+street, turned in at Biffen's yard, and mounted up to Acton's room. He
+knocked firmly on the partly open door, and when he heard Acton's "Come
+in," walked solidly in.
+
+Acton smiled amiably when he saw his visitor, and, with his half-foreign
+politeness, drew out a chair.
+
+"No, thanks," said Phil, icily; "but, if you've no objection, I'd like
+to close your door. May I?"
+
+"By all means."
+
+"My opinion of you, Acton----"
+
+"Why trouble about that, Bourne; I know it.".
+
+----"is that you're an unmitigated cad."
+
+"Gently, friend, gently," said Acton, half getting up.
+
+"You, by your foul play, have disfigured poor Aspinall for life----"
+
+"Bourne, you're a monomaniac on that subject. I've had the pleasure of
+telling you once before that you were a liar."
+
+"And you did not get your 'footer' cap for it, which seems such a paltry
+punishment for so villainous a crime."
+
+"That is stale, stale," said Acton, coolly.
+
+"You entice my brother to London, which means expulsion for him if it is
+found out by Dr. Moore."
+
+"I believe that's the rule."
+
+"The expulsion of Jack would bring disgrace on an honest name in the
+school and give pain to an honest gentleman----"
+
+"The pity o' 't," said Acton, with a sneer.
+
+"And so, since you, by a kind of malicious fate, seem to escape all
+proper punishment----"
+
+"You should be a parson, Bourne."
+
+"I'm going to try to give you your deserts myself."
+
+"An avenging angel. Oh, ye gods!"
+
+"Do you mind turning out at the old milling ground at seven sharp
+to-morrow morning?"
+
+"The mornings are chilly," said Acton, with a snigger. "Besides, I
+don't really see what pressing obligation I'm under to turn out at that
+time for the poor pleasure of knocking you down."
+
+"I never thought you were a coward."
+
+"How charitable!"
+
+"But we must bring you to book somehow. Will you fight--now?"
+
+Before he had time to avoid the blow Phil had struck him lightly on the
+face. For one half second a veritable devil peeped out of Acton's eyes
+as he sprung at Phil. But Phil quickly backed, and said coolly, "No--no,
+sir! Let us do the thing decently and in order. You can try to do all
+you wish to-morrow morning very much at your ease. I apologize for
+striking you in your own room, but necessity, you know----"
+
+"Bourne, you'll regret that blow!"
+
+"Never," said Phil, emphatically, and with cutting contempt. "I have
+asked Carr to second me. I dare say Vercoe would do the same for you. He
+has the merit of being a perfectly straightforward fellow, and since he
+does not go home like the rest to-morrow----"
+
+"Thanks. Vercoe will do excellently. He is a friend of yours, too!"
+
+"I'm glad to say he is."
+
+"Well, you may now be pretty certain there will be no foul play,
+whatever else may follow. I'll teach you wisdom on your front teeth."
+
+"I dare say," said Phil, as he coolly stalked out, and left Acton curled
+up on his chair, like a cobra balancing for its stroke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+A RENEWED FRIENDSHIP
+
+
+One morning Gus was much astonished to receive a letter containing a
+blank sheet of notepaper enfolding a postal order for L1. This was
+properly filled in, payable to A.V.R. Todd at St. Amory's Post-office,
+but there was not the slightest clue as to the sender. Gus looked at the
+blue and white slip in an ecstasy of astonishment. Now, Gus knew that no
+one was aware of his bankrupt exchequer save Cotton, and he knew that
+Jim was not likely to have said anything about it for one or two very
+good reasons, and would now keep it darker than ever. If it were known
+that Gus had been practically pilloried for being penniless by the
+fellow who had lifted his cash, Cotton would have heard a few fancy
+remarks on his own conduct which would have made his ears tingle. Gus
+pondered over this problem of the sender until he felt giddy, but he
+finally came to the conclusion that Cotton had regretted his polite
+attentions to an old friend, and had sent the order as a kind of _amende
+honorable_. Gus instantly regretted the fervent wishes about the boiling
+oil and the public kicking for Jim Cotton, and he also determined to go
+and thank his old patron for what he was sure was his anonymous gift.
+
+So, after breakfast, he cashed the order and, with pockets heavier with
+coin than they had been for some time, he went to Jim Cotton's room. Jim
+received him with an odd mixture of anger and shame, and when Gus handed
+over to him two half-crowns, Cotton in some confusion, told him to hand
+them over to Philips, who had initiated the subscription for the Penfold
+tablet.
+
+"Thought you were the secretary?" said Gus.
+
+"No! I'm out of the boat now. Philips is the man," said Cotton, sulkily.
+
+"And, by the way, Jim, it wasn't half bad of you to send me that order.
+It was no end brickish, especially after I had left you more or less in
+the lurch."
+
+"What order?" said Jim, looking curiously at Gus.
+
+"What's the good of trying to pass it off like that, old man? It could
+only be you."
+
+"I don't know what you're driving at. You seem to be talking rot," said
+Cotton, angrily, for he fancied that Gus was fooling him in some way.
+
+"Well, I've got an order for L1 this morning, envelope stamped St.
+Amory, and it could only come from some one who knew I was stumped, and
+you're the only fellow who knew that, unless, indeed, you've been kind
+enough to tell some of the fellows."
+
+"I've told no one; and anyway, I didn't send the order."
+
+"Oh, rot!"
+
+"Thanks! I don't tell lies as a rule, and I say I know nothing whatever
+about your order. I think you'd better cut now, instead of wasting my
+time with this rotten foolery."
+
+"You didn't send it?" said Gus, finally, with more than a dash of
+irritation in his voice at the continued boorishness of Cotton.
+
+"No, I tell you! Shall I get a foghorn and let you have it that way?"
+
+"Then, look here, Cotton. If you didn't send it, your underscoring of my
+name on the house list because I couldn't subscribe was the act of an
+arrant cad."
+
+Cotton winced at Gus's concise definition, but he said, "Oh, get out,
+you fool!"
+
+"Fool, or not," said Gus, becoming more angry every moment as he thought
+of his wrongs, "I'm not an underbred loafer who cleans a fellow out of
+his cash and then rounds on him because he can't pay his way. Why, a
+Whitechapel guttersnipe----"
+
+"Can't appreciate the allusion," said Jim; "I've never been to
+Whitechapel. But anyhow, Todd, there's the door. I think you had really
+better go."
+
+"Not till I've said you're the biggest bounder in St. Amory's."
+
+"Now you've said it you really must go, or I'll throw you out!"
+
+Gus was too taken up with his own passion to notice that Cotton was also
+at about the limit of his patience, and that Jim's lips had set into a
+grim and ugly sneer. Todd was furiously trying to find some clinching
+expression which would quite define Jim's conduct, when that gentleman
+took one stride forward and caught him by the collar. The grip, the very
+touch of Cotton's fingers maddened Gus beyond all bearing. His anger
+broke loose from all control; he wrenched himself out of Cotton's grasp
+and passionately struck him on the mouth.
+
+Cotton turned grey with passion as bitter as Todd's and repaid Gus's
+blow with interest. Gus dropped to the floor, bleeding villainously.
+Cotton thereupon jerked him to his feet, and threw him out of the room.
+
+Gus picked himself up from the corridor floor and went to his own room,
+his face as white as a sheet and his heart as black as ink. What Gus
+suffered from his passion, his shame, his hatred, and the pain of his
+old friend's blow, for the next few hours words will not tell. He
+attended morning school, his head in a whirl of thought. Cotton was
+there too, and, could looks have killed, Jim Cotton would not have been
+in the land of the living for very long. When Merishall went, Gus waited
+until all the form had filed out, and, still dizzy and sick, he wearily
+followed suit and turned in at his own door. As Gus came into the room
+some one rose up and faced round to meet him, and Todd found himself
+once more face to face with Cotton.
+
+Now, the blow which had tumbled down Gus so heartily had, so to speak,
+tumbled down the striker in his own mind just as thoroughly. Jim
+Cotton's mind was not a subtle one, but the minute after he had floored
+Gus and shut the door on him, his better mind told him distinctly that
+he was a cad. Why? Because when he struck Gus the feeling was as though
+he had struck a cripple. Gus had doubled up under the weight of his hand
+as though he had been a leaf. Cotton dimly felt that for a fellow of his
+build and weight to let Gus have the full benefit of both was not fair.
+"That is how it must feel, I suppose, to strike a girl. My fist seems
+unclean," he said, in huge disgust. "I'd give Todd his three sovs. back
+if I could recall that blow. I wish I'd left the fool alone, and anyhow,
+it's my opinion I don't shine much in our little squabble. Todd has been
+playing the man since his Perry cropper, and I've been playing the cad
+just because he was once useful to me and I did not want to let him go."
+Cotton devoted the next few hours to a little honest unselfish thinking,
+and the result was that he came pretty near to despising himself. "I'll
+go and apologize to Gus, and if he shies the poker at my head I'm hanged
+if I dodge it."
+
+That is why Gus was received in his own room by the fellow who had so
+lately knocked him down. Gus stared at Jim, his swollen lip trembling
+with anger and his eyes blazing with indignation.
+
+"I say, Gus, old man, I am an utter out-and-out cad, and I've come to
+apologize."
+
+Gus murmured something indistinctly.
+
+"When I knocked you down I did the most blackguardly thing that even I
+have ever done, and, you may believe me or not, I am now about disgusted
+with myself. I felt that there was only one thing that I could do, and
+that was to apologize."
+
+Jim was so obviously cut up by remorse that Gus thereupon buried the
+hatchet. He did not throw the poker at Jim's head, and you may be
+surprised to hear--or you may not--that Gus and Jim Cotton took their
+after-dinner coffee at Hooper's, as in the old time. The conversation
+was _staccato_ at first, but interesting.
+
+"But who sent the order?" said Gus.
+
+"Dunno, really; but I could almost bet my boots that Taylor is the
+criminal."
+
+"Taylor! What does he know of my affairs?"
+
+"Well, that beastly house list with your red raw agony column made him
+most suspicious, and I believe he knows to a hair exactly how big a cad
+I've been."
+
+"Go on, old man; leave that."
+
+"He sucked Philips dry about the Penfold tombstone, and although he said
+nothing to me personally, Philips gave me to understand that I'm not in
+favour with the parson. Taylor is the man who's provided your sub. for
+the Penfold, take my word for it."
+
+"He's not half such a bad fellow, Jim."
+
+"No," said Jim, with an uneasy laugh; "Taylor's all right, but he'll
+make me squirm when he has the chance."
+
+The friendship of Cotton and Todd was thus renewed and cemented--with
+Gus's bluest blood. Gus gave Jim some good advice about the schools,
+which made Jim feel a bit dubious.
+
+"Chuck your Bohn's cribs and your keys under the grate, and show up
+your own work."
+
+"Footle, you mean, Gus."
+
+"All right, footle, then. I know all our own private personal beaks
+would rather have a fellow's own work, if of fair quality, than all the
+weirdest screeds from any crib whatsoever."
+
+Jim made the experiment, very gingerly, be it said, but did show up his
+own work, and from Corker to Merishall all the beaks were civil to him.
+Gus's reputation as a prophet was established, for Corker himself seemed
+pleased with the Cottonian version of Herodotus.
+
+"Rather rough in parts, Cotton," said the old man, beaming on the
+shrinking Jim; "but at least you've not been ploughing Herodotus with
+the help of your old ass, Bohn."
+
+Jim's effort, however, came too late to affect in any degree his
+position in the Fifth. When the lists of the Easter term were published,
+Cotton was the last, deservedly, of the form, but A.V.R. Todd was the
+seventh. This was an eye-opener to many in the form, but the result sent
+Gus into the seventh heaven of delight. Taylor came specially into
+Todd's modest sanctum to congratulate him, and Corker sent an extra
+special letter to Todd senior, saying all manner of sweet things about
+Gus. He put the highest mark of his favour upon the delighted Gus by
+asking him to dinner--a very great honour, but a dreadful ordeal. Gus
+was wonderfully nervous as he commenced his soup. How do I know? Well, I
+had been asked, I believe, to give the bewildered Gus a little
+countenance. Gus went home, a day or two later, to the bosom of his
+family, where he was treated with the utmost honour. He redeemed the
+watch from the jeweller, and fulfilled his own promise to that worthy
+man. All through the holidays he basked in the smiles of his proud
+father, and rode that gentleman's pedigree hack. Corker's highest mark
+of appreciation was to give you a dinner; with Gus's father it was to
+let you ride his own horse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+A LITTLE ROUGH JUSTICE
+
+
+Quietly and without any fuss the few details were arranged, and next
+morning four of us filtered down to the old milling ground, on whose
+green sod so many wrongs had been righted in the old times, and where I
+sincerely hoped Phil would yet redress, however imperfectly, another.
+
+Of course, we all know fisticuffs are not what they were; for every
+strenuous mill of to-day there used to be fifty in the old days, and the
+green turf which formerly was the scene of terrific combats between
+fellows of the Upper School now only quaked under the martial hoof of,
+say, Rogers, the prize fag of Biffen's, and Poulett, the champion egg
+poacher of Corker's, and other humble followers of the "fancy." Milling
+as an institution in the schools may write up "Ichabod" above its gates.
+
+I tossed with Vercoe for corners, and when I won, I chose the favourite
+corner, the one King had when he fought Sellers with a broken wrist, and
+beat him, too; which Cooper had when he stood up to Miller for one whole
+half-holiday, and though beaten three or four times over, never knew it,
+and won in the end, which mills and the causes thereof, if some one
+would write about them, would make capital reading. Anyhow, it is a
+lucky corner, from the legends connected with it, and I thought we
+should need any luck that might be knocking about so early in the
+morning.
+
+Phil was as cool and calm as though he were going to gently tund a small
+fag for shirking. Acton was outwardly calm, but inwardly seething with
+hate, rage, and blood-thirstiness. His proud soul lusted for the
+opportunity to repay the flick on the face he had received from Phil,
+with interest. I watched the sparkling fire in his eye, the unaffected
+eagerness for the fray in his pose, and thought that even Acton had not
+quite the skill to cater for such a large and lusty appetite. Vercoe and
+I set our watches, and agreed to call time together, and then we moved
+each to our corner. Phil peeled as quietly as though he were going to
+bed, Acton with feverish haste, which perhaps was his foreign blood
+working out; beside Acton's swift, impulsive movements Phil's leisurely
+arrangements seemed sluggish indeed.
+
+"Time!" said Vercoe and I in chorus, and I added in an undertone to my
+man, "Go in and win."
+
+It was obvious from the start that Phil was not as good a man as Acton
+as far as skill was concerned, but when it came to well-knit strength
+there was no doubt that Phil had the pull. Acton's eagerness was a
+disadvantage against one so cool as Bourne. In the very first round,
+Acton, in his overwhelming desire to knock Phil out in as short a space
+as possible, neglected every ordinary precaution, and, after a spirited
+rally, Phil broke through Acton's slovenly guard, and sent him spinning
+into Vercoe's arms. We called time together, and to my intense
+satisfaction the first round resulted in our favour.
+
+After that, thoroughly steadied by Phil's gentle reminder, Acton dropped
+all looseness, and began to treat Phil with the greatest respect, never
+taking any risks, but working in a scientific fashion, which poor Phil
+found hard enough to parry, and when he could not do that, hard enough
+to bear. But he never faltered; he took all that Acton could give him in
+imperturbable good temper, working in his dogged fashion as though he
+were absolutely confident of winning in the long run, and as
+disregarding present inconveniences because they were expected, and
+because the ultimate reward would repay all a hundred-fold.
+
+There was also something else I noticed. Acton did not do so much damage
+as he ought to have done, and I found him constantly "short," but when
+Phil did score there was the unmistakable ring of a telling blow. I was
+puzzled in my mind why Acton was so "short," but I think now it was
+because he had never done anything but with gloves on, and fisticuffs,
+which were more or less familiar with Phil, were unknown to him. They
+don't fight, I believe, in France or Germany with Nature's weapons, but
+occasional turn-ups with the farmers' sons and the canal men had, of
+course, fallen to Phil's share.
+
+On each occasion that Phil got home, Acton answered with a vicious
+spurt which did not do much good, but only tired him, and at the end of
+the seventh round I was astonished to think that Phil had stood the
+racket so well. Phil's lips were puffy, and one eye was visibly
+swelling, and he had other minor marks of Acton's attention, but he was
+in excellent condition still. Acton was damaged above a bit, and Phil's
+first-round reminder showed plainly on his cheek.
+
+Acton began to think that unless he could make Phil dance to a quicker
+tune pretty soon, he himself would be limping round the corner of
+defeat, for he was very tired. When we called them up for the eighth
+round, he had evidently determined to force the fighting. Much as I
+disliked Acton, I could not but admire his splendid skill; he bottled up
+Phil time and again, feinted, ducked, rallied, swung out in the nick of
+time, planted hard telling blows, and was withal as hard to corner as a
+sunbeam. As I sponged Phil at the end of the eighth I felt that three
+more rounds as per last sample would shake even him, so I said, "Try,
+old man, for one straight drive if he gives you a ghost of a chance.
+Don't try tapping."
+
+Acton came up smiling; in a twinkling he had Phil at sea by his
+trickiness, and was scoring furiously. Then, for the first time, Phil
+backed, shortly and sharply. Acton sprang forward for victory, and a
+huge lunge should have given Phil his quietus, but it was dreadfully
+short, and stung rather than hurt. Phil recovered the next moment, and
+was on the watch again cool and cautious as ever. Then Acton, following
+an artless feint which drew Phil as easily as a child, ducked the blow
+and darted beneath his guard. I gave Phil up for lost. How it happened,
+though I was watching carefully, I cannot say, but Acton seemed to
+slither or stumble on the turf as he rushed in, and for one second he
+was at Phil's mercy.
+
+At that very instant Phil's arm flashed out, and with a blow which would
+have felled an ox, he caught Acton between the eyes. Acton dropped to
+the ground like a bludgeoned dog.
+
+Phil, like a gentleman, backed a yard or so away, waiting for Acton to
+get up again, but he made no sign. Vercoe and I then counted him out
+with all due formality, and Phil had won at the very moment he was about
+to be beaten. We did our best for Acton, who was unconscious, and, just
+when we began to despair of bringing him round, he opened his eyes with
+the usual vacant stare. In a minute he recovered his thoughts, and said
+eagerly, "Then I've won."
+
+"Not quite," said Vercoe, grimly. "You've jolly well lost."
+
+Acton tottered to his feet blind with rage--diabolic rage--but hate and
+fury couldn't give him strength to stand. Vercoe gently caught him, and
+laid him quietly on his back, and sponged his face where the awful force
+of Phil's blow was becoming plainer every moment.
+
+He compressed his lips with rage and pain, and looked at Phil with such
+a look of deadly hatred that Vercoe was disgusted.
+
+"Now come, Acton. You've fought well, and, by Jove! you ought to lose
+well. Bourne fought like a gentleman, and you've been beaten fairly.
+What is the good of bearing any malice?"
+
+"Look here, Acton," said Phil, "I'm jolly glad I've thrashed you, but
+all is over now. Here's my hand, and we'll let bygones be bygones."
+
+"Never!" said Acton. "I'll get even with you yet."
+
+"So be it," said Bourne; and he turned away, and got into his coat,
+leaving Vercoe and Acton on the field of battle. "Don't care to mention
+it, old man," he said to me as we got to his room, "all the same, I
+thought I was a gone coon just when I knocked the fellow out."
+
+I went for my holidays that morning, and Acton, escorted by Vercoe, got
+into the same train. He was white and almost scared looking at his
+defeat, but there was on his face still that unfading expression of
+unsatisfied hate and lust for revenge. I buried my face in my paper in
+utter disgust.
+
+So you see Acton departed from St. Amory's at the beginning of the
+Easter holidays in a slightly different mood from that which he enjoyed
+at Christmas, when the young Biffenites had cheered him till they were
+hoarse and he was out of hearing.
+
+Toby was almost beside himself with consternation when Bourne and Vercoe
+turned up at the Courts in the afternoon.
+
+"Your 'ands, Mr. Bourne, and your eye! What have you been a-doing of?"
+
+"I have had the painful necessity to thrash a cad, Toby."
+
+"But you did thrash him, sir?"
+
+"I fancy so," said Bourne, grimly.
+
+Jack went home in the evening a sadder and wiser boy. When he saw his
+brother's closed eye and swollen lip, and the angry patches on his
+cheeks, he was cut to the heart; he took his thrashing like a man, and,
+when all was over, felt he loved and respected his brother more than
+ever. "What a beastly little pig I've been," he said to himself.
+
+Vercoe and Bourne were the victorious finalists at Kensington in the
+rackets. It was, as the papers aptly remarked, "Quite a coincidence that
+Bourne's right eye was beautifully and variously decorated in honour of
+the occasion."
+
+I don't expect many finalists, at rackets anyhow, turn up with black
+eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE MADNESS OF W.E. GRIM
+
+
+Grim and Wilson had come back to St. Amory's firmly convinced that
+Biffen's was the most glorious house that had ever existed, and that it
+would do--thanks to Acton, Worcester, and the dervishes--great things
+when the cricket housers came round.
+
+"Grimmy," said Wilson, "you'll have to try to get into the team this
+year. You would last, if your batting hadn't been so rotten."
+
+"All right, old man; don't rub that in too often."
+
+"You put in a lot of extra practice at one of those bottom nets, Grimmy,
+and you'll find Worcester'll shove you in first choice, almost, this
+go."
+
+"Serene. Shall we try to raise a bottle of cherries now," said Grim,
+lazily, lounging from net to net. "It's heaps too soon to think of
+housers yet."
+
+"You conceited ass, Grimmy! Not for you. Your batting is too awful."
+
+"Don't worry now. Oceans of time, I tell you. We'll try some cherries,
+eh?"
+
+The pair strolled lazily off the field, and made several purchases in
+the preserved fruit line, and then adjourned to their common room for
+refreshment.
+
+But, as time went on, Grim did not fall in with Wilson's arrangements
+quite as enthusiastically as that single-hearted Biffenite would have
+liked him to. A fortnight passed, and Grim had only put in the
+regulation practice at the nets to Wilson's intense disgust, and the
+time that should have been devoted to extra cricket was "wasted,"
+according to that ardent Biffenite, in doing, of all things, needlessly
+elaborate translations for Merishall.
+
+"Whatever is the good of getting the very word the beak wants, Grimmy. I
+always translate _Carmen_--a song. Does it matter a cherry-stone that it
+sometimes means a charm? What good does it do you, you idiot? It only
+means that Merishall is harder on us. Think of your friends, Grimmy, do.
+If I didn't know you were a bit cracked, I'd say your performance was
+undiluted 'smugging.'"
+
+"Cork that frivol, do," said Grim, who was stretched full length on the
+grass and gazing skywards with a rapt expression in his eyes, "and look
+over there. How beautiful it is!"
+
+"How beautiful what is?" asked Wilson, astonished.
+
+"The sunset, you ass!"
+
+"I don't see anything special about it," said Wilson. "An ordinary
+affair!"
+
+"Ordinary affair! Ugh, you idiot. Look at those lovely colours mingling
+one with another, those light fleecy clouds floating in a purple sea,
+that beautiful tint in the woods yonder, that--that--"
+
+"Steady, Grim. Take time," said Wilson, squirming away from his chum.
+
+"Wilson, you haven't any soul for beauty. A sunset is the loveliest
+sight on earth, you duffer."
+
+"Didn't know a sunset ever was on earth," said Wilson, sarcastically.
+
+"Is that funny?"
+
+"All serene, Grimmy," said Wilson, elaborately agreeing with his friend
+as a mother might with a sick child. "Matter of fact, it is rather fine.
+Not unlike a Zingari blazer, eh?"
+
+"Zingari blazer!"
+
+"Exactly like. And that pink on the trees would do for the Westminster
+shirts."
+
+"Blazers and shirts," cried Grim, in disgust. "Oh! get out."
+
+"Let's get in, Grimmy, instead. You'd better see the doctor. 'Pon
+honour, you aren't well."
+
+"I can't help it," said W.E. Grim, resignedly, "if you haven't any soul.
+Yes, I'll come. I've got Merishall's work."
+
+There was a coolness that night between the two friends as they sat at
+the opposite sides of their common table doing their work for Merishall,
+and Wilson was determined to find out what was disturbing their
+accustomed peace. He had soon done his modicum of prose and forthwith
+broached matters.
+
+"Let's have this business out, Grim. It will do you a lot of harm if you
+keep it in."
+
+"The fact is----" began Grim, hesitating.
+
+"Allez! houp-la!" said Wilson, encouragingly.
+
+"I'm going in strong for poetry."
+
+For reply Wilson laughed as though his life depended on the effort, and
+Grim turned a rich rosy hue. Wilson finally blurted out--
+
+"Grim, you're an utter idiot."
+
+"What do you think about it?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"I thought it would surprise you."
+
+"It has, but nothing you do ever will again. Lord, Grimmy, was it for
+this you chucked cricket and your chance of the house eleven?" Wilson
+exploded again, uproariously. "I'll tell Rogers and Jack Bourne. You a
+poet!"
+
+"Why shouldn't I be, you silly cuckoo?"
+
+"Why, you haven't got the cut of a poet, for one thing, and for another,
+I believe, next to your mother, the thing you like best in the world is
+a good dinner." Wilson waxed eloquent on Grim's defects from a poet's
+standpoint. "Your hair is as stiff as any hair-brush; you can't deny
+you're short and a trifle beefy; and was ever a poet made out of your
+material and fighting weight?"
+
+"That isn't criticism," said Grim, angrily.
+
+"No," said Wilson, bitterly. "I don't pretend to that. They are a few
+surface observations only. Just tell this to Rogers or even Cherry, and
+watch 'em curl."
+
+Wilson and Grim went to bed that night pretty cool towards each other,
+but in the morning Grim was obstinately bent on being the poet as he
+was the next week and the week after that. He wrestled with poetry
+morning, noon, and night, and he made himself a horrible nuisance to his
+old cronies. Wilson complained bitterly about their study being "simply
+fizzing with poetry." Grim sprang a poem or a sonnet, or a tribute or
+some other forsaken variety of poetry, on pretty well everything about
+the place. He "_did_" the dawn and worked round to the sunset. He had a
+little shy at the church and the tombstones, and wrote about the horse
+pond's "placid wave." He did four sonnets on the school, looking from
+north, south, east and west, and let himself go in fine style about the
+school captain's batting. He sent this to Phil, and Phil passed the
+disquisition on to me; it was very funny indeed. Not a single thing was
+safe from his poetry, and he cut what he could of cricket to write
+"tributes."
+
+He had a lively time from his own particular knot of friends and
+enemies, and they jollied him to an extent that, perhaps, reached
+high-water mark, when Grim found one morning on his table a dozen
+thoughtful addresses of lunatic asylums, and specimens of the writing of
+mad people, culled from a popular magazine. But Grim recked not, and
+persevered. He turned out, as became a budding poet, weird screeds from
+Ovid, Virgil, and Horace--Bohn's cribs were simple to his tangled
+stuff--and Merishall beamed wreathed smiles upon him, and told him he
+was "catching the spirit of the original." After this patent, distinct
+leg-up from Merishall, Grim took the bit between his teeth and went
+careering up and down the plains of poesy until the lights were cut
+off.
+
+Wilson bore with his chum for a month, and then finally delivered his
+ultimatum.
+
+"If you're still a poet at midsummer, I'm going to cut, and dig with
+Rogers or Cherry. This den isn't big enough for you, me, and the
+'original spirits' you wing every night. I'm off to the nets. Coming?
+No? Jove! Grimmy, what nightmares you must take to bed with you every
+night."
+
+But the kindly Fates had the keeping of the chums' friendship in their
+safe keeping, and I haven't observed yet, that Grim and Wilson are less
+friendly than they used to be. This consummation is owing to Miss
+Varley. This young lady, _aetat_ XIV, or thereabouts, was responsible for
+the reclamation of Grim. What the whole posse of his acquaintances with
+their blandishments and threats could not effect in the space of a
+month, she did within four and twenty hours. I cannot account for this,
+except on the supposition that little girls with long yellow hair and
+pretty brown eyes, and a perambulating blush, create mighty earthquakes
+in the breasts of rowdy fags. Miss Hilda Elsie Varley, being Biffen's
+niece, had taken the house under her protection, was more rabidly
+Biffenite than even Rogers, adored Acton, reverenced Worcester, and
+appreciated Chalmers, but despised fags who weren't "training-on" for
+one of her houses' various elevens. Her sentiments on these matters were
+mysteriously but accurately known amongst Biffenite juniors.
+
+Grim finally turned his poetical talents upon this young lady. I am not
+quite certain why he delayed so long. Perhaps he had waited until his
+gift of song had matured so that the offering might be worthy of the
+shrine, or perhaps because he had exhausted all other exalted subjects
+for his muse, but anyhow, he sent Miss Varley an ode on her birthday.
+This day was pretty generally known amongst Biffen's fags.
+
+When he had finished he read it to Wilson, who unbent from his
+antagonistic attitude towards poetry when he heard the subject of the
+verse.
+
+"After all, Grimmy, it doesn't sound more rotten than Virgil, and it
+_is_ rather swagger to say that Biffen's is to Hilda what Samnos was to
+Juno. It's a jolly lot more, though."
+
+Grim had cheerfully compared Miss Hilda to the queenly Juno, and said
+that if she would give Biffen's her protection, the house would give the
+other houses "fits" when the housers came round again; then he put in
+something about her hair, unconsciously cribbed from Ovid; and something
+about her walk--this I tracked to Horace; and wound up the whole farrago
+by saying he was ready to be her door-mat and to shield her from the
+furies, _etc_., which, I think, Grim genuinely evolved out of his own
+effervescing breast. The ode was properly posted by the poet himself,
+and even Wilson felt genuinely interested in the result. As for Grim, he
+was so jolly anxious that he could not tackle any more poems, but
+divided his time between ices at Hooper's and loafing round the
+letter-rack for Hilda's answer.
+
+A day or so later Wilson was busy translating for Merishall--carefully
+putting "songs" whenever he spotted "_carmina_"--when he heard Grim
+flying upstairs, and when the poet had smashed into the room, he held up
+a letter.
+
+"It's come," he gasped.
+
+Wilson laid down his pen and said, "Wait till you're cool, and then read
+it out."
+
+This is the letter _in extenso:_--
+
+                                      "Biffen's, Wednesday.
+
+"DEAR GRIM,
+  "I don't think you'll ever be a poet, at least not a great one. I
+believe I could give you the Latin for most of the lines you have
+written: they are so dreadfully like the translations of my
+school-books, and it isn't very flattering when one has to put up with
+second-hand compliments several thousand years old, is it? But I am very
+glad that you think my good opinion of any value to Biffen's, for I
+should dearly like to see our house top of the school this year, and how
+can it be when one, who ought to be in the House Eleven, gives up all
+his time to writing 'poetry' instead of playing cricket? I hope you will
+not be very vexed with me for writing this, but I know you would prefer
+me to be
+  "Yours very sincerely,
+  "HILDA E. VARLEY.
+
+  "P.S.--If I see you admiring the sunsets or the rose-bushes when you
+ought to be at the nets, I know I shall titter ... even if Miss Langton
+be with me.
+  "H.E.V."
+
+Grim struggled through this to the bitter end. Wilson made the very roof
+echo with his howls of unqualified delight, but Grim's face was
+uncommonly like that sunset he admired so much.
+
+"This is a sickener," he gasped.
+
+"Jove! Grim, you've wanted one long enough," said Wilson, holding his
+aching sides.
+
+"Crumbs! One would think she was old enough to be my mother."
+
+"That's a way they have, when they're not feeling quite the thing. No
+wonder, poor girl."
+
+"Look here, Wilson, keep this dark. I'm not going to write any more
+poetry. I've been thinking that, ever since I sent Hilda the ode. I
+don't think it's quite the real article."
+
+"No," said Wilson, consolingly; "only original-spirit catching."
+
+"A lot you know about it, old man," said Grim, hotly.
+
+"Granted, Grimmy; but Hilda twigged the fraud, quick enough."
+
+"Well, I'm going to burn it all, right off."
+
+They did. I believe I am doing Grim no injustice when I say he looks
+less a poet, and acts up to his looks, than any junior in St. Amory's.
+
+Two nights after the receipt of this fateful letter Grim was
+industriously practising Ranjitsinghi's famous glance at a snug, quiet
+net, when Miss Varley, accompanied by Miss Cornelia Langton, her
+governess, went past the nets. Miss Langton told Hilda afterwards that
+she ought not to speak to hard-working cricketers and distract them in
+their game. Hilda, I don't think, minded this little wigging, and Grim
+never went without a friendly nod as he turned from cutting Wilson into
+the nets, if Miss Hilda Elsie Varley went by.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+CONCERNING TODD AND COTTON
+
+
+Knowing Acton's pride--his overwhelming pride--I never expected to see
+him back at St. Amory's. I expected that he would almost have moved
+heaven and earth and got himself taken off the school books and gone to
+complete his education somewhere else rather than come back to the old
+place where he had had such a signal thrashing. But, of course, he knew
+jolly well that we four had our tongues tied, and that the knowledge of
+his defeat was, so to speak, strictly private property; and that is why,
+I am pretty sure, he turned up again.
+
+He strolled up and down the High, arm-in-arm with Worcester, in high
+good humour, on the day we returned; but when I turned the corner and
+came upon him _vis-a-vis_ he gave me a long, level, steady look of
+hatred, which told me that he had nursed his wrath to keep it warm. His
+look made me thoughtful. Young Jack Bourne, too, came sailing along--a
+breezy miniature copy of Phil, his brother--but when he caught sight of
+his former patron he blushed like a girl and scuttled into the first
+available yard.
+
+[Illustration: HE GAVE ME A LONG, STEADY LOOK OF HATRED.]
+
+He was not particularly anxious to meet Acton, for Phil, in the
+holidays, had given Jack a pretty correct inkling of Acton's character,
+and he began to see--in fact, he did see--that Raffles and the shooting
+and the billiards, and the hocus pocus of "hedging on Grape Shot," and
+the trip to London, etc., was only one involved, elaborate plot to
+strike at Phil. Jack now fully realized that he had played a very
+innocent fly to Acton's consummate spider, and he now, when there wasn't
+any very pressing necessity, determined to give the spider's parlour a
+very wide berth indeed. Acton saw Jack's little manoeuvre, and smiled
+gently. He was genuinely fond of Jack, but young Bourne had served his
+purpose; and now, thought Acton, philosophically, "Jack looks upon me as
+a monster of iniquity, and he won't cultivate my acquaintance." And
+Phil? Well, Phil regarded the incident as "closed," and paid no heed to
+his enemy's bitter looks, but divided his attention between his books
+and cricket, keeping, perhaps unnecessarily, a bright outlook upon
+Master Jack.
+
+Todd had come back to St. Amory's in a very different frame of mind from
+that in which he had returned after the Perry fiasco. His three weeks'
+holiday had been no end enjoyable; and now, besides a coin or two in his
+pocket, he had a clean, crisp note in his purse. As he stepped out of
+the train at the station, the burly figure of Jim Cotton hove in sight,
+and an eleven-inch palm clapped Gus on the back.
+
+"Hallo! old man. How goes it?"
+
+"Oh!" said Gus, coughing; "I'm all right, Jim, and your biceps seem in
+their usual working order."
+
+"They are, Gus. I've got a cab out here; we'll go on together."
+
+"Rather! I must find some one to see to the traps, though."
+
+"I've commandeered young Grim," said Jim, "and he'll see to them."
+
+"Provident beggar! Here you are, Grim. Put mine into Taylor's cart, and
+here's a shilling for you."
+
+Grim, who felt rather injured at being lagged by Cotton so early in the
+term, just at the moment, too, when he had caught sight of Wilson
+staggering along with a heavy hat-box, etc., seized Jim's and Gus's
+effects. Todd's modest _douceur_, however, took off the rough edge of
+his displeasure.
+
+After tea, Cotton and Todd strolled about, and finally came to anchor
+behind the nets, where some of the Sixth were already at practice.
+
+"Phil Bourne's good for a hundred at Lord's," said Jim, critically,
+watching Phil's clean, crisp cutting with interest.
+
+"There's Acton out, too."
+
+"Raw," said Jim. "Biffen's beauty has never been taught to hold his bat,
+that is evident. Footer is more his line, I take it."
+
+"Are you going to have a try for the eleven, Jim, this year?"
+
+"I'll see how things shape. If Phil Bourne gives me the hint that I have
+a chance, I'll take it, of course."
+
+"Will he give Acton the hint, think you?"
+
+"I shouldn't say so," said Jim, as Acton's stumps waltzed out of the
+ground for the fourth time. "He can't play slows for toffee."
+
+"Rum affair about the footer cap," said Gus.
+
+"Rather so. But I believe Phil Bourne is as straight as a die. I'm not
+so sure of Acton, though. I fancy there's something to be explained
+about the cap. By the way, Gus, are you going to loaf about this term as
+usual? Taylor's house side really does want bigger fellows than it's
+got."
+
+"No!" said Gus. "I'm no good at cricket, nor croquet, nor any other
+game; nor do I really care a song about them. All the same, I'm not
+going to loaf."
+
+"What is the idea?" said Jim, curiously.
+
+"I'm going to have a shot for the history medal, and I mean to crawl up
+into the first three in the Fifth."
+
+"And you'll do 'em, Toddy," said Jim, admiringly. "You're not quite such
+an ass as you once were."
+
+"Well, I'll work evenly and regularly, and, perhaps, pull off one or
+other of them."
+
+"I go, you know, at midsummer. Then I'm to cram somewhere for the Army.
+Taylor's been advising a treble dose of mathematics, and I think I'll
+oblige him this time."
+
+"Taylor's not half a bad fellow," said Gus.
+
+"Oh, you're a monomaniac on that subject, Gus! Once you felt ill if you
+met Taylor or Corker on your pavement."
+
+Jim Cotton was right. Gus was now a vastly different fellow from the
+shiftless, lazy, elusive Gus of old; he worked evenly and steadily
+onward, and, in consequence, his name danced delightfully near the top
+of the weekly form-lists of the Fifth Form. He, however, did not sap
+everlastingly, but on half holidays lounged luxuriantly on the school
+benches, watching the cricket going on in the bright sunshine, or he
+would take his rod and have an afternoon among the perch in the
+Lodestone, that apology for a stream. Fishing was Gus's ideal of
+athleticism; the exercise was gentle, and you sometimes had half a dozen
+perch for your trouble. Gus argued there was nothing to show for an
+eight hours' fag at cricket in a broiling sun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+ACTON'S LAST MOVE
+
+
+Phil's unpopularity had somewhat abated, for his victory in the rackets
+had given him a good leg up in the estimation of his fellows; but still
+there was the uneasy feeling that in the matter of the "footer" cap his
+conduct was shady, or at least dubious.
+
+I was awfully sorry to see this, for I myself was leaving at midsummer,
+and in my own mind I had always looked upon Phil to take up the
+captaincy. He would have made, in my opinion, the _beau ideal_ of a
+captain, for he was a gentleman, a scholar, and an athlete. But the
+other monitors, or at least many of them, did not look upon Phil with
+enthusiasm, and his election for the captaincy did not now seem the sure
+thing it had done a few months before.
+
+At St. Amory's the monitors elect a captain, and Corker confirms the
+appointment if he thinks their choice suitable, but he insists that he
+must be well up in the Sixth, and not a mere athlete.
+
+Now, Phil's ambition was to be Captain of St. Amory's, as his father had
+been before him, and when the home authorities finally decided that I
+was to go to Cambridge in the Michaelmas term; Phil hoped and desired
+to step into my shoes. He had one great lever to move the fellows in his
+favour, he was much the best cricketer in the school and deservedly
+Captain of the Eleven, and, besides that, was one of the best all-round
+fellows in Sixth Form work. But Phil did not in the least hint that the
+captaincy was his soul's desire; he determined to merit it, and then
+leave the matter in the hands of the school. So, from the very beginning
+of the term, he read hard and played hard, and he left his mark on the
+class lists and the scoring-board in very unmistakable fashion.
+
+And now Acton came like an evil genius on the scene. In a word, he had
+determined that if he could in any way baulk poor Phil's ambition, he
+would. If by his means he could put Phil out of the running for the
+captaincy it should be done. If he could succeed, this success would
+make up and to spare for his two former defeats. Therefore, warily and
+cautiously, he set to work.
+
+Acton himself was not much of a cricketer; the game was not, as it were,
+second nature to him, as it was to Phil, but he was a very smart
+field--cover was his position--and he could slog heavily, and often with
+success. He threw himself heartily into the game, and crept rapidly up
+the ladder of improvement, until Biffen's whispered that their shining
+light stood a good chance of getting into the Eleven. "That is," said
+Biffen's crowd, "if Bourne will run straight and give a good man his
+flannels. But after the 'footer' fraud, what can one expect?" I heard
+of this, and straightway told Phil.
+
+"Oh, they need not fear. If Acton deserves his flannels, he will get
+them. I've nothing whatever against his cricket."
+
+Acton learned this, and instantly his new-found zeal for cricket
+slackened considerably.
+
+"Oh!" said he to himself, "I can't blister you there, Bourne, eh? I
+can't pose as the deserving cricketer kept out of the Eleven by a
+jealous cad of a captain, eh? So I'll try another tack to keep you in
+evil odour, Mr. Bourne."
+
+Acton did not turn up at the nets that night, and when Worcester noticed
+this, Acton calmly sailed on his new tack.
+
+"What's the good of sweating away at the nets, Dick? I'll not get my
+flannels in any case."
+
+"Oh yes, you will. Bourne has said he's got nothing against your
+cricket."
+
+"And you believe that, Dick?" said Acton, with a whistle of contemptuous
+incredulity.
+
+"I do," said Dick. "But you are not exactly quite the flier at cricket
+that you are at 'footer,' so you can't afford to slack up now."
+
+"I've got private knowledge," said Acton, with a filthy lie, "that I
+won't get 'em in any case, so I shall not try."
+
+Dick was considerably upset by this, and Acton's sudden stoppage of
+practice after an intense beginning made his lie seem a good imitation
+of truth, and gave Worcester food for bitter thoughts against Phil.
+Acton worked "the-no-good-to-try" dodge carefully and artistically; he
+never actually said his lie openly, or Phil would have nailed it to the
+counter, but, like a second Iago, he dropped little barbed insinuations
+here, little double-edged sayings there, until Biffenites to a man
+believed there would be a repetition of the "footer" cap over again, and
+the school generally drifted back to aloofness as far as Phil was
+concerned.
+
+Acton laid himself out to be excessively friendly with the monitors, and
+just as he entered into their good graces, Phil drifted out of them--in
+fact, to be friendly with Acton was the same thing as being cool towards
+Bourne. Phil made splendid scores Saturday after Saturday, but the
+enthusiasm which his fine play should have called out was wanting.
+
+"Why don't you cheer your captain, Tom?" I overheard a father say to his
+young hopeful.
+
+"No fear!" said the frenzied Biffenite. "Bourne is a beast!"
+
+In fact, the only one who seemed to derive any pleasure from Bourne's
+prowess in the field was Acton himself. He used to sit near the
+flag-staff, and when Phil made his splendid late cut, whose applause was
+so generous as his? whose joy so great? Acton's manoeuvres were on the
+highest artistic levels, I can assure you, and in the eyes of the
+fellows generally, his was a case of persecuted forgiving virtue. Acton,
+too, kept in old Corker's good books, and his achievements in the way of
+classics made the old master beam upon him with his keen blue eye.
+
+I saw with dismay how persistently unpopular Phil remained, and I heard
+the charms of Acton sung daily by monitor after monitor, until I saw
+that Acton had captured the whole body bar Phil's own staunch friends,
+Baines, Roberts, and Vercoe. And then it dawned upon me that Acton was
+making a bid for the captaincy himself, and when I had convinced myself
+that this was his object, I felt angrier than I can remember. I
+thereupon wrote to Aspinall, gave him a full, true, and particular
+account of Acton's campaign against Phil, and asked him to release
+me--and Phil--from our promise of secrecy regarding the football-match
+accident. His reply comforted me, and I knew that, come what might, I
+had a thunderbolt in my pocket in Aspinall's letter, which could knock
+Acton off the Captain's chair if he tried for that blissful seat.
+
+I told him so, to save trouble later on, and he heard me out with a far
+from pretty sneer, which, however, did not quite conceal his chagrin.
+But though I made sure of his being out of the hunt, I could not make
+sure of Phil being elected, and in a short time Mivart was mentioned
+casually as the likeliest fellow to take my place. I have nothing
+whatever to say against Mivart; he was a good fellow, but he was not
+quite up to Phil's level.
+
+Phil knew of these subterranean workings of his enemy, but he was too
+proud a fellow to try and make any headway against the mining.
+
+"If they elect Mivart they will elect a good man, that is all, though
+I'd give a lot, old man, to take your place."
+
+Thus things went on until Lord's came and ended in the usual draw.
+Phil's selection of the Eleven was in every way satisfactory, and his
+score for first wicket had made St. Amory's safe from defeat, but,
+despite all, his unpopularity was pronounced.
+
+The election was going to take place in a week, and Mivart, thanks to
+Acton's careful "nursing," was evidently going to romp home in the
+election with something like a sixteen to four majority. Vercoe
+determined to propose Phil, and Baines was only too delighted to second
+it; but Phil's cronies had no more hope of his success than Phil had
+himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+WHY BIFFEN'S LOST
+
+
+After the Lord's match there were two burning subjects of conversation:
+Who should be captain in my place? and which house should be the cock
+house at cricket? Every house captain looked with dread upon the house
+of Corker, great alike at cricket and footer, and it was agreed that
+very probably Phil Bourne would once more lead his men on to victory.
+Biffen's house did not stand much chance, for there was no superlative
+Acton at cricket; but it was, indeed, mainly through his efforts that
+Biffen's was as good as it was. You may remember that Acton had taken
+under his patronage those dark-skinned dervishes, Singh Ram and Runjit
+Mehtah. They were unquestionably the best pair of fellows in the school
+in strictly gymnastic work; and when summer came they showed that they
+would, sooner or later, do something startling with the bat. The
+Biffenite captain, Dick Worcester, did not altogether relish their
+proficiency. "It's just my luck to have my eleven filled up with
+niggers," he observed to Acton in half-humourous disgust; but Biffenites
+pinned their faith on Worcester, the dervishes, and Acton, and, to the
+huge delight of Grim, Rogers, Wilson, Thurston, and other enthusiastic
+junior Biffenites, the resurrected house survived the first two rounds.
+
+The third round they were to meet Taylor's lot, a good house, and the
+hopes of Grim and Co. were tinged with considerable doubt.
+
+On the particular afternoon when this important match was to be played,
+Todd had strolled off to the Lodestone stream, laden with all the
+necessary tackle for the slaying of a few innocent perch. The year's
+final lists of the forms were due also in the evening on the various
+notice-boards.
+
+Gus had redeemed his promise made at the beginning of the term, and had
+worked hard for a prominent position on the list, and his attempt to
+capture the history medal had been, he thought, fairly satisfactory. He
+would soon know his fate, however, in both directions. Meanwhile, to
+allay his anxiety as to the results, he had unpatriotically given the
+cricket-fields a wide berth, and thus deprived Taylor's of the privilege
+of his cheer in the house match. He and Cotton had an invitation to dine
+with Taylor that evening, so, after telling Jim his programme for the
+afternoon, he had trudged down the lane which Jack Bourne knew so well.
+
+The afternoon was hot: the one-o'clock sun made Gus think that perhaps
+there was more cruelty than usual in luring the fishes out of the cool
+waters of the Lodestone; but, nevertheless, he philosophically baited
+his hook, and cast forth. The sport was not exciting, and by-and-by Gus
+found himself wondering, not why the fish were so shy, but whence came
+the faint, delicate perfume of cigars, which undoubtedly reached his
+nostrils? The Lodestone Farm was a quarter of a mile away, and obviously
+the scent could not travel thus far, and since Gus was alone on the
+banks of the stream, running sluggishly towards the moat, the constant
+whiffs of cigars reaching him seemed somewhat mysterious. Gus looked
+again carefully, but could see no one, and yet there was undoubtedly
+some one smoking very near him.
+
+"Well, it _is_ odd," said Gus, for the nth time sniffing the "tainted
+breeze." Curiosity piqued the fisher to trace the mystery. He
+reconnoitred carefully, and presently fancied he could hear the faint
+murmur of voices. This proceeded from the boat-house, wherein Hill
+moored the moat punt. "I'll just make a reconnaissance in force," said
+Gus, putting down his rod. Arrived at the punt-house, Gus peeped in
+through the slightly open door, and discovered no less important
+personages than Runjit Mehtah and "Burnt Lamb." The two dervishes were
+lolling luxuriantly on the punt cushions, each smoking a fine fat cigar,
+and the combined efforts of the two gave quite an Oriental air of
+magnificence to the ramshackle boat-house.
+
+"Hallo!" said Gus. "What the deuce are you doing?"
+
+The cigars nearly fell from the mouth of each of the smokers as Gus
+appeared on the scene, but when the smokers made out Todd's face
+through the haze, Mehtah said, with much relief--
+
+"Oh, talking."
+
+"That isn't quite a true bill," said Gus. "Your Flora Fina de Cabbagios
+keep the fish from biting."
+
+"Have one," said Burnt Lamb, hospitably offering Todd a cigar.
+
+"No thanks. Is this punt-house your usual lounge?"
+
+"Sometimes," said Mehtah. "We can't do without our smoke, and we can't
+do it, you know, at the school."
+
+"No, that you jolly well can't, my dusky Othello. But aren't you two
+booked for the Houser's this afternoon? I thought you were the backbone
+of Biffen's."
+
+"The match is not for an hour yet," said Lamb.
+
+"Oh yes," said Mehtah, "we're going to sit on your house this afternoon,
+Todd."
+
+At this most interesting point of the conversation the door of the
+punt-house was violently slammed to, and Gus was propelled forward clean
+into the punt and received hurriedly into the unexpectant arms of Burnt
+Lamb. Before any of the three could understand what had happened there
+was a hurried fumbling with the staple and pin of the punt-house door
+from the outside, and then an equally hurried retreat of footsteps.
+
+"Well, I'm hanged!" said Gus, after he had picked himself up and tried
+the door. "We're locked in."
+
+Young Rogers and Wilson, who had done this fell deed, hoped there was
+no doubt about the locking. This couple of ornaments had immediately
+after dinner snatched their caps and ran on past the Lodestone Farm for
+a particular purpose. They had found a yellowhammer's nest a day or so
+before, containing one solitary egg, and their hurried run was for the
+purpose of seeing if there was any increase, and if so--well, the usual
+result. They were anxious to get back to the cricket-field in time to
+shout and generally give their house a leg-up when the Houser with
+Taylor's commenced, and their friend Grim had strict orders to bag them
+each seats, front row, in the pavilion. They had been busy blowing eggs
+for pretty well twenty minutes, and, as they were lazily returning
+schoolwards, they caught sight of Gus watching his float.
+
+"There's Gus Todd trying to hook tiddlers," said Rogers.
+
+"Shy a stone," suggested Wilson, "and wake 'em up."
+
+"Rot! There's no cover."
+
+"It's only Todd," said Wilson. "What's the odds?"
+
+"Yes, but not quite the old ass. Better get home."
+
+Keeping well out of sight, the two cronies had watched with curiosity
+Todd's manoeuvres as he tried to run the cigar-smokers to earth. When
+Gus entered the punt-house, a bright idea struck Wilson.
+
+"Say, Rogers, remember Toddy locking us in the laboratory last term? Two
+hundred Virgil."
+
+"Ah!" said Rogers, catching the meaning of Wilson's remark instanter;
+"if we only could cork him up there for the afternoon! That would pay
+him out for Merishall's call-over lines."
+
+"We'll chance it," said Wilson. "If we can't do it, well, we didn't know
+Gussy was in--eh?"
+
+"Rather! That is the exact fable we'll serve out to Todd, if necessary."
+
+Breaking cover, the young Biffenites had secured the door of the
+punt-house without any difficulty, and then had run for dear life.
+
+"Golly!" said Rogers, pulling up when well out of sight of the
+boat-house; "we did that rather neat, eh? Hanged if Toddy wasn't smoking
+like a chimney. Did you twig his weed?"
+
+"Regular stench," said Wilson. "Toddy will have to swim out through the
+front way, or howl for help. The punt is sure to be locked."
+
+"He'll have to take a header off the punt into the moat, and that isn't
+crystal, exactly."
+
+"Six yards of mud is about the figure," said Wilson, almost
+hysterically.
+
+"I say, old man, if we'd only been able to bottle up Jim Cotton along
+with his chum! What price Biffen's for the Houser, then?"
+
+"_If_" said Wilson, wistfully. "Wouldn't the dervishes walk into
+Taylor's bowling, if Bully wasn't there to sling them in?"
+
+"Never mind," said Rogers, hardly daring to contemplate the ravishing
+prospect of Taylor's house without Cotton, "the dervishes are sure to
+come out strong this afternoon. Let 'em once get their eye in, and
+either of 'em is good enough for a hundred."
+
+The two young Biffenites found the faithful Grim holding the fort in the
+front bench of the pavilion against the ardent assaults of some
+Taylorian juniors, who could not see what Grim wanted with three seats.
+The fellows of the two houses were rapidly lining up for the match, and
+Dick Worcester had sent to Biffen's making affectionate inquiries for
+the dervishes. By-and-by, word was brought to Worcester that the two
+were not to be found in the neighbourhood; and a further hurried search
+by anxious Biffenites, headed by Rogers and Wilson, had a like result.
+
+"Isn't it awful, Grimmy?" said Rogers. "Where can the idiots be?"
+
+Worcester and Acton had a consultation. "If they don't turn up in time
+we'll have to make a start without 'em."
+
+"If we have to go in we may give 'em up. We can't bat substitutes."
+
+"No fear!" said Dick. "Cotton isn't likely to hear of that, and,
+besides, it's just like the rotten thing you might expect from those
+niggers."
+
+Acton smiled. "All right, old chap. Put in Grim and Rogers in their
+place. The little beggars will be as keen as mustard."
+
+So Grim and Rogers had the honour of representing their house, since the
+dervishes did not turn up. Rogers, when he shut the door on Todd, did
+not guess that he had shut up Biffen's crack bats too. That Biffen's
+lost the match, and made no sort of show against Cotton's bowling, may
+also, perhaps, be attributed to the inadvertent imprisonment of Mehtah
+and "Lamb."
+
+The imprisoned trio had not had a very lively time that afternoon in the
+punt-house. The door remained obstinately shut, and neither Todd nor his
+two companions relished a swim in the moat as the price of freedom. The
+dervishes took matters very calmly; the desire to play for Biffen's was
+not strong enough to counterbalance the natural shrinking from a header
+into the duckweed and a run home in wet clothes. Singh Ram had a final
+try at the door, and then murmured--so Gus said--"Kismet," and relit his
+half-smoked cigar. Todd, indeed, shouted lustily; but when he realized
+that by contributing to the escape of the dervishes he might contribute
+to the downfall of his own house, he stopped himself in the middle of an
+unearthly howl. For three hours Gus remained a half-voluntary prisoner;
+but, when he judged it safe, he created such a pandemonium that young
+Hill hurried out of the farm stable, thinking there must be some weird
+tragedy taking place at the punt-house. He had hurried across and let
+the trio out.
+
+The dervishes got a mixed reception from Biffen's crowd. Worcester was
+almost eloquent in his language, and Acton was calmly indifferent.
+
+"But I tell you, Worcester, some beast locked us in the punt-house."
+
+"I wish they'd kept you there," said Dick, unmollified.
+
+Whilst Worcester was swallowing his tea, Rogers and Wilson craved
+audience. Their faces were as long as fiddles.
+
+"Oh, Worcester!" began Rogers, tremulously, "we've come to tell you that
+it was we who lost Biffen's the houser."
+
+"Why, Wilson didn't play, and you caught Cotton," said Dick, astonished.
+
+"But we locked the dervishes in the punt-house--we thought there was
+only Todd inside."
+
+"Oh, you did, you little beggars, did you?" said Worcester, considering
+the doleful and grief-stricken Biffenites. "Well, here's a shilling for
+each of you if you keep it dark. I'm deucedly glad the dervishes didn't
+play. I'd rather lose a dozen housers than feel the niggers were
+indispensable. Now, cut; and next time you bottle 'em up, see they don't
+get out."
+
+"Golly!" said Rogers, as the two left Worcester to his tea. "I suppose
+the sun's affected Worcester's brain."
+
+Whilst the dervishes were explaining matters to Worcester the other
+prisoner was elbowing his way into the crowd around the Fifth Form
+notice-board, whereon were pinned the final lists. Jim Cotton was
+planted squarely before the board, eyeing the contents with huge
+delight, and when he caught sight of the struggling Gus he haled him
+vigorously forward.
+
+"Here you are, Gus! By Jove, Toddy, you've done it this time, you old
+Perry fizzler!"
+
+Gus eyed the list with delighted eyes.
+
+This is what he saw: "First--Todd, A.V.R.--history medal, and chemistry
+prize."
+
+Need I say anything more of either Todd or Cotton? Todd entered the
+Sixth when the summer holidays were over, and Phil Bourne writes me
+often and tells me what a big gun Todd is in the schools. Jim Cotton was
+entered upon the roll-call of some celebrated "crammer" near the Crystal
+Palace. If crammers' hearts _could_ be broken, Jim, I should say, will
+accomplish the feat. But if ever James Cotton _does_ get into the Army
+he will never disgrace his regiment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+THE END OF THE FEUD
+
+
+Thoroughly satisfied with himself and all the world, Acton had on the
+last Saturday of the term--the election for the captaincy was to be held
+that night--left the cricket field to the enthusiasts, and turned his
+feet towards the old Lodestone Farm, the road he knew so well. He wanted
+to be alone with his happy thoughts. He was more than satisfied with
+himself, and, as he walked along, he mowed down with his ash-plant
+thistles and nettles in sheer joyfulness of heart. His long feud with
+Bourne would come to a joyful end that night. Mivart's election was
+certain, and Mivart's election would pay for all--for the loss of the
+"footer" cap, and for that terrible half-hour after Bourne had knocked
+him out, when he felt himself almost going mad from hatred, rage,
+disgust, and defeat. He had engineered his schemes beautifully; his
+revenge would be as perfect. The loss of the captaincy would be a
+bitter, bitter pill for Bourne to swallow.
+
+Whilst he strode on, engrossed with these pleasant thoughts, he fancied
+he heard shouts and cries somewhere in the distance behind him. He
+turned round, and down the long stretch of white road he saw a cloud of
+dust rolling with terrific speed towards him. For one moment he wondered
+whatever was the matter, but out of the dust he could see the flashing
+of carriage-wheels, the glitter of harness, and the shining coats of a
+couple of horses. The carriage came rocking towards him at a terrible
+rate, sometimes the wheels on one side off the road altogether; the
+horses had their heads up, and Acton could hear their terrified snorting
+as they thundered towards him.
+
+"A runaway!" said Acton, backing into the hedge. "They'll come a cropper
+at the little bridge. What a smash there'll be!" As the runaway horses,
+galloping like the furies, came nearer, Acton saw something which made
+his blood run cold. "Jove!" he cried, darting out from the hedge,
+"there's a lady in the carriage!" Acton was almost frozen with the
+horror of the thing. "She'll be smashed to pieces at the bridge."
+
+Acton glanced to the little bridge half a mile down the long white road,
+where the road narrowed to meet the low stone walls, and he knew as well
+as though he saw it that the carriage would catch the bridge and be
+shivered to match-wood. The horses must be stopped before they reached
+it, or the lady would be killed. Now Acton, with all his faults, was no
+coward. Without thinking of the terrible risk he ran, he sprang out into
+the middle of the road and waved his arms frantically at the horses
+moving like a thunderbolt towards him. But they were too maddened with
+terror to heed this waving apparition in their path, and Acton, in the
+very nick of time, just jumped aside and avoided the carriage-pole,
+pointed like a living lance at his breast.
+
+[Illustration: AS THE HORSES WHIRLED PAST, HE CLUTCHED MADLY AT THE
+LOOSE REINS.]
+
+As the horses whirled past, he clutched madly at the loose reins,
+see-sawing in the air. He held them, and the leather slid through his
+frenzied grasp, cutting his palms to the bone. When he reached the loop
+he was jerked off his feet with a terrible shock, and was whirled along
+the dusty road, the carriage-wheels grinding, crunching, and skidding
+within a foot of his head. Luckily the reins held, and when, after being
+dragged a hundred yards or so, and half choked by the thick dust, he
+managed to scramble to his feet, he pulled with frenzied, convulsive
+strength on the off-side rein. The horses swerved to the fearful saw on
+their jaws, and pulled nearly into the left-hand hedge. Acton's
+desperate idea was to overturn the carriage into the hedge before the
+horses could reach the bridge, for he felt he could no more pull them up
+than he dare let them go. There was just a chance for the lady if she
+were overturned into the bank or hedge, but none whatever if she were
+thrown at the bridge. In a minute or so the carriage lurched horribly
+sideways: there was a grinding crash, and the carriage overturned bodily
+into the bank. The lady was shot out, and the next minute the horses'
+hoofs were making tooth-picks of the wrecked carriage.
+
+Acton darted up the bank and found the lady dazed and bruised, but was
+overjoyed to see she wasn't dead. "Are you much hurt?"
+
+"No, I don't think so," she said, with a brave smile; "but I expected
+to be killed any moment. You are a brave man, sir, to risk your life for
+a stranger."
+
+Acton said quietly, "Not at all; but I think I was very lucky to turn
+them in time."
+
+In a minute or two there was a small crowd. Half a dozen stray cyclists
+had wheeled up, and with their help Acton got out the horses, dreadfully
+cut about the legs and shivering with terror, from the wreckage. Down
+the dusty road were men running for dear life, and ahead of all Acton
+caught sight of a well-known athletic figure running like a deer, and in
+another moment Phil Bourne was asking the lady in panting bursts if she
+were not really hurt.
+
+"No, Phil; not in the least. I owe my life to this gentleman, who pulled
+the horses into the bank before they could reach the bridge."
+
+Phil wheeled round, his face beaming with gratitude, but when he saw
+Acton, pale to the lips, the words of thankfulness froze on his lips.
+For one instant he stared at his old enemy with wonder and amazement,
+then, with a gesture of utter gratitude, he said--
+
+"Acton, I can never tell you how much I owe you for saving my mother's
+life, but will you shake hands?"
+
+Acton looked at Bourne, whose face beamed with admiration and gratitude,
+and then he put out his hand. In that moment, so honourable to them
+both, the feud was stamped out for ever. Fresh as he was from as
+glorious a deed as any Amorian had ever done, he realized that he had
+been a blackguard towards Bourne the moment Phil begged him to shake
+hands.
+
+Phil murmured almost inarticulate words of gratitude; but Acton, more
+than a trifle disturbed at his own thoughts, interrupted hastily--
+
+"Say no more about it, please, Bourne. You'd have done as much for any
+one."
+
+"Your hands are bleeding," said Phil, with immense concern.
+
+"Nothing at all. I think the reins cut them."
+
+Mrs. Bourne _would_ bind them. "Of course!" said she. "How blind of me
+not to see that this gentleman is one of your schoolfellows, Phil."
+
+"Mother," said Phil, "this is John Acton."
+
+"I've heard Phil talk about your wonderful win at Aldershot. I suppose
+you're great friends?"
+
+The "great friends" looked on the ground rather guiltily, but Phil cut
+in with--
+
+"I say, Acton, you must come and have tea with mother and me in my den.
+Can you?"
+
+Acton said quietly, "All right, Bourne. Thanks, awfully." Then he added
+under his breath to Phil, "If I can come as a friend?"
+
+"On that condition," said Phil, "I'd like you to come."
+
+The trio walked back along the road--a happy trio they were, too--and a
+melancholy procession of injured horses and an angry coachman closed
+their rear. The tea in Bourne's room was very successful, and I should
+fancy that Hinton did more hard thinking and hard staring when he saw
+Acton amicably seated with his feet under Bourne's table than he ever
+did before. The minute he had permission, he flew down the corridor, and
+exploded bombshell after bombshell among wondering Amorians.
+
+"Acton and Bourne teaing together like two birds on a bough!" he gasped.
+
+"That would be a funny sight," said Cherry. "Birds don't take tea."
+
+"Write an epilogue, Fruity. Teaing together as friendly as Grim and I
+might."
+
+"Only that," said W.E. Grim, with a genial wink, "my opinion is, that
+Hinton's been on the drink, and seen double."
+
+Incredulity and wonder were the dominant notes among Amorians for the
+next two hours.
+
+Acton and Phil walked to the station with Mrs. Bourne, and when she had
+gone to town, and the pair were returning schoolwards, Acton said
+thoughtfully--
+
+"Look here, Bourne. Don't know quite what it was that made me feel so
+cheap when you rushed to thank me for helping your mater. I felt very
+small."
+
+"If that's so, you'll feel cheaper and smaller when pater sees you. I'd
+have those hands cured first."
+
+"Bourne," said Acton, very seriously, "I've been an arrant cad since
+I've come to St. Amory's, and if those horses hadn't bolted with your
+mater I should never have seen in you anything but a strait-laced prig,
+as I've all along thought you. I have, really. But that's all changed
+now, and I'm going to dry up. I suppose you know you aren't popular
+among the fellows generally?"
+
+"Rather!" said Phil, gloomily.
+
+"And you know that you owe all this to me?"
+
+"Only too well, Acton."
+
+"Well, I'm going to make what amends I can. Have you any objection to my
+proposing you as captain to-night?"
+
+"Acton, you are a brick," said Phil, "but you're too late now. I don't
+stand a ghost of a chance against Mivart."
+
+"And I'll get Mivart to second you. I can put all the fellows straight
+concerning you, and, by Jove, it's the least I can do! I'll make a clean
+breast of it to them all to-night before the election comes on."
+
+"Oh no, you won't! I'd rather lose the captaincy than that. Besides,
+Aspinall asked me not to do anything bar refuse you your cap."
+
+"I've been an insufferable cad," said Acton, with a hot blush, "but you
+shall be captain in any case."
+
+Acton saw Mivart, and whether he told him the whole history of his
+quarrel with Bourne or not, I cannot say; anyhow, Acton prevailed on him
+to second Phil. Mivart was a very good fellow, as I said before, and he
+thoroughly believed that Bourne would make a better captain than he
+himself would, so he said he would be delighted to back Phil up to any
+extent, since Phil was not now the jealous bounder he had so long been
+considered.
+
+I myself, as the retiring captain, took the chair in the Sixth Form
+room to see the election of my successor through with all due solemnity.
+Acton got up, and though he was very nervous, he said out straight what
+he had resolved to say.
+
+"I propose Phil Bourne for captain in place of Carr, and I'll tell you
+why. I consider him the most suitable fellow to take our old captain's
+place. Many of you may be--will be--surprised to hear me propose Bourne,
+for between us two, as you all know, there has been no love lost. But in
+all the dreary business I have been the utter cad and Bourne the other
+thing. He brought upon himself any amount of bad feeling because he
+would not give me my 'footer' cap. I did not deserve it"--some one here
+said "rot!" emphatically--"not because I wasn't good enough a player,
+but for another reason, which, much as I should shy at telling you, I
+would tell, only Bourne begged me not to. It is his and Carr's and
+another fellow's secret as much as mine, so I feel I had better not say
+it. But, believe me, in the business I was an utter cad, and instead of
+bringing all that row about my cap upon Bourne's head, I ought to have
+burned my boots, and never kicked a football again. There's another
+matter, this time strictly between Bourne and self, in which I did him
+as big an injury as one fellow can do another. He gave me a sound
+thrashing for it on the morning that you fellows went away last term,
+and Carr and Vercoe here assisted us in our little mill. No one ever
+deserved a thrashing as I deserved that one, and now I'm glad I got it.
+It was Bourne's only score against me. Fact is," said Acton, with a grim
+smile, "I'd rather meet another Jarvis than Bourne."
+
+The fellows opened their eyes, and wondered what next.
+
+"This term I've worked the whole school, and especially you monitors,
+against Bourne, to make his chance of getting the captaincy a very rocky
+one. And I think I pretty well succeeded. You all liked Bourne before I
+appeared on the scene, with good reason, and I do hope you will all give
+him your votes, for, and I say it absolutely sure of its truth, the best
+fellow in St. Amory's is Bourne. That is all I can say."
+
+Mivart got up before the fellows had time to recover from their
+astonishment, and said--
+
+"I have great pleasure in seconding Acton's proposal. I, too, consider
+Bourne out and out the best fellow to take Carr's place. Whilst Phil was
+under a cloud I was willing to stand for captain, but since we all know
+now that he stands where he did, the only proper thing to do is to give
+him the unanimous vote, for I do not mean to stand at all."
+
+The fellows blankly voted for Bourne, and, as Grim would be sure to say,
+"the proposition was carried _nem. con_."
+
+That evening Corker confirmed Phil's appointment, and I spent as happy
+an evening as I can remember. Acton said he should not come back to St.
+Amory's again, as his record was too black to be used as a convenient
+reference, but Phil and I and all the fellows told him we should be
+only too glad to let bygones be bygones, and that he had really done the
+square thing at the last.
+
+He did come back, and Phil's letters to me tell me that his old enemy is
+one of the most popular--deservedly--in the school, and his best friend.
+They are inseparable, play back together at "footer," and are variously
+called Gemini, Damon and Pythias, David and Jonathan, as the case may
+be.
+
+Biffen's are still cock-house at "footer;" Acton is going in again for
+the "heavy"--this time without the Coon's help--and those "niggers,"
+Singh Ram and Runjit Mehtah, to Worcester's intense disgust, are the
+representatives of St. Amory's in gymnastics; and, altogether, Biffen's
+House is, thanks to Acton's help, perhaps the most distinguished in the
+school.
+
+
+
+
+ACTON'S CHRISTMAS
+
+I
+
+SNOWED UP
+
+
+A jollier going away for the Christmas holidays had not taken place for
+an age.
+
+An old Amorian had done "something good" in India, which had obtained an
+extra week's holiday for his old school, and the Amorians, a day or so
+before, had beaten the Carthusians, whose forwards had been led to the
+slaughter by an International whose very initials spell unapproachable
+football.
+
+The station of St. Amory's was crowded with the fellows, all sporting
+rugs of vivid patterns on their arms, and new and of-the-latest-shape
+"bowlers" on their heads, and new and fancy trouserings on their
+emancipated legs. No more Amorian cap--peak pointing well down the
+neck--no more trouserings of sober grey-and-black, no more beakish
+restraint for five weeks! Couples strolled up and down arm-in-arm; knots
+of the Sixth and Fifth discussed matters of high state interest, and the
+worthies of the lower forms made the lives of the perspiring porters a
+misery and a burden to them. Prominent Amorians were cheered, and when
+those old enemies, John Acton and Phil Bourne, tumbled out of their cab
+as the greatest of chums, the fags quavered out their shrill rejoicings,
+honouring the famous school backs who had stemmed the sweeping rush of
+the Carthusians a day or so before.
+
+There was a rumour that Acton had been asked to play for the
+Corinthians, and the other athletes on the platform pressed round the
+pair for information.
+
+Our old friends, Wilson and Jack Bourne, had shut up by stratagem B.A.M.
+Cherry in the lamp-room, and the piteous pleadings of that young
+Biffenite were listened to with ecstacy by a crowd of a dozen, who
+hailed the promises and threats of the prisoner with shouts of mocking
+laughter.
+
+W.E. Grim, Esq., explained to a few of his particular chums, Rogers
+among them, the wonderful shooting he was going to have "up at Acton's
+place" in Yorkshire, and they listened with visible envy.
+
+"Look here, Grimmy, if you tell us next term that you bagged two
+woodcock with one barrel, we'll boot you all round Biffen's yard--so
+there."
+
+Acton had, as a matter of fact, invited Dick Worcester, Gus Todd, Jack
+Senior, of Merishall's house, and Grim, to spend Christmas with him at
+his mother's place, and they had all accepted with alacrity.
+
+The northern express rolled into the station, and Grim was hurriedly
+informed by Rogers that he was to bag the end carriage for Acton under
+pain of death. Grim tore down the platform, and, encouraged by the
+cheerful Rogers, performed prodigies of valour, told crams to groups of
+disgusted Amorians, who went sighing to search elsewhere for room,
+engaged in single combat with one of Sharpe's juniors, and generally
+held the fort. And then, when Acton came running down, and wanted to
+know what the deuce he was keeping him waiting for, Grim realized that
+Rogers had "done" him to a turn. He shouted weird threats as he was
+hurried away, to the bubbling Rogers, and that young gentleman lifted
+his hat in ironical acknowledgment. There was the warning shriek from
+the engine, and then the train crawled out, taking toll of all the
+Amorians going north, and leaving the others to shout after them
+endearing epithets and clinching witticisms.
+
+For two days before the Amorians were on the wing home there had been
+heavy falls of snow, culminating, on the going-away day, in a heavy
+snow-storm. All the way from St. Amory's the express had been held up by
+doubtful signals, and in the deeper cuttings the snow had piled up in
+huge drifts. The express had toiled on its northern journey, steadily
+losing time at every point. At Preston Acton had telegraphed home that
+probably they would arrive quite three hours late. Thus it was that,
+tired but jolly, the party of five Amorians got out of the main line
+express at Lowbay, and, each laden with rugs and magazines, stumbled
+light-heartedly across the snow-sodden platform into the local train,
+which had waited for the express nearly three hours. They found
+themselves sixteen miles from home, and with no prospect of reaching it
+before midnight.
+
+"Raven Crag," the name of Acton's home, was situated just within the
+borders of Yorkshire. A single line of rails takes you from Lowbay
+Junction up the Westmoreland hills to the top of the heaviest gradient
+in the kingdom, and then hurtles you down into the little wayside
+station of Lansdale, the station for "Raven Crag."
+
+The sturdy tank engine coupled to the short local train was steaming
+steadily and noisily, and when the express had rolled heavily out for
+Carlisle, the station-master hastily beat up intending passengers for
+the branch line. Besides Acton's party, there were only two passengers,
+a lady and a little girl.
+
+"I'll give the old tank a good half-hour to crawl the eight miles to the
+top of the fells," said Acton, "and then we'll rattle into Lansdale in
+ten minutes. But she _will_ cough as she crawls up. Look here, Dick,
+I'll have a whole rug, please. This carriage is as cold as a
+refrigerator."
+
+The fellows made themselves as comfortable as an unlimited supply of
+rugs and a couple of foot-warmers would admit of. Dick Worcester,
+without a blush, propped his head against a window and said: "Grim,
+there's a lingering death for you if you fail to wake me five minutes
+from Lansdale." The others exchanged magazines and yawned hopefully,
+whilst Acton took out his Kipling, and straightway forgot snow, home,
+and friends.
+
+The station master, and the driver, and the guard held an animated
+conversation round the engine. "Strikes me, Bill, the old engine'll
+never get t' top of t' bank to-night!" said the guard. "The snow must be
+terrible thick in Hudson's cutting."
+
+"She'll do it," said the driver,--"wi' luck."
+
+"Got another engine with steam up," inquired the guard, "to give us a
+lift behind?"
+
+"No, they're all shut down, and we couldn't wait now. You'll have to run
+her through yourselves," said the station-master. "Nearly four hours
+late already! Off with you!"
+
+"I'm doubting we can't do it," said the guard, thoughtfully. "To-night is
+the worst night I can remember for years. The expresses could just
+manage it."
+
+"Oh, well," said the driver, "we're down to run it, and we're going to
+try."
+
+"There'll be drifts twenty feet deep in the cutting, and it'll be like
+running into a house," said the guard, slowly, "but I suppose we've got
+to try, anyhow."
+
+He walked away thoughtfully to his van, and a moment later there was a
+shrill whistle, and the Lansdale local ran out into the night.
+
+And it _was_ a night! There was no moon, and not the least glimmer of a
+star overhead; an utter darkness shrouded the world. The wind was high
+and steady, and its mournful howling through the rocky cuttings of the
+railway sounded unspeakably melancholy. Driven by the gale, the
+snowflakes had in five minutes covered the windward side of the train
+with a winding-sheet, inches deep, and when Gus Todd, from curiosity,
+opened the window to peer out into the night, the flakes, heavy, large,
+and soft, whirled into the carriage a very cataract of snow.
+
+"Don't, Gus, please," pleaded Acton, looking up from his book in
+astonishment at the snow glittering in the lamp-light; "I prefer that
+outside, thanks."
+
+"It's an awful storm, Acton," said Gus, hastily drawing up the window.
+"Allah! how it snows!"
+
+"Is this up to the usual sample here?" asked Senior, nestling nearer the
+dozing Dick.
+
+"Well," said Acton, listening a moment to the stroke of the engine, and
+the roar of the wind, "I think we may say it is."
+
+"Blizzard seems nearer the word, old man. The flakes come at you like
+snowballs."
+
+"Shan't be sorry when we tread your ancestral halls. This weather is
+too-too for comfort. And don't we crawl!"
+
+"We're rising," said Acton, "and it is uphill work. Hear the old tank
+groaning?"
+
+In fact, the train, labouring up the heavy gradient, did barely more
+than crawl through the snow and wind, and the slow beat of the engine
+told how hard it was even to do that. Acton added thoughtfully, "We've
+quite four miles yet to the summit, and there's a chance we mayn't----"
+
+"Mayn't what, Acton, please?" said Grim, putting down his magazine.
+
+"Get there, Grimmy."
+
+"To the top? Oh, rot!" said Senior.
+
+"I can't quite remember such a crawl as this, Jack; listen how the
+engine coughs."
+
+"If we can't get to the top of the incline--what then?" asked Grim.
+
+"Go back, I should say."
+
+"To Lowbay?"
+
+"Yes. But while we _do_ crawl there's no need to fret."
+
+"That would mean goodbye for the present to your place, old man?"
+
+"Yes. 'Twould be a horrid nuisance, wouldn't it?"
+
+The Amorians listened anxiously to the engine toiling up the incline;
+but the howling of the wind almost drowned every other sound. The pace
+was still a crawl, but it was a steady one.
+
+"Oh! she'll worry through after all," said Acton.
+
+Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the train pulled up with a
+jerk that sent Senior and Grim flying forward into the unexpectant arms
+of the dozing Dick and Gus Todd. The luggage rattled out of the rack in
+instantaneous response, and whilst all the fellows were staring blankly
+at each other they heard the crunching of the brake, and felt that the
+train had come to a dead stop.
+
+"What ever is the matter?" gasped Worcester, quite wide awake by now.
+
+"We've landed into a drift, I fancy," said Acton, "and there's no home
+for us to-night. What beastly luck!"
+
+There was now no sound but the roaring of the storm; the engine gave no
+sign that they could hear, and Acton impatiently let down the window,
+but was instantly almost blinded by the snow, which whirled through the
+open window. Crossing over, he tried the other with better success, and
+the first thing he saw was the guard, waist deep in snow, trying to make
+his way forward, and holding his lamp well before him. "What's happened,
+guard?" he asked.
+
+"Matter!--why, we're off the line for one thing, and----"
+
+Forward, they could hear the shouts of the driver above the hiss of
+escaping steam.
+
+"Let me have your cap, Grim," said Acton, all energy in a moment. "I'm
+going forward to see what is up. Back in a minute."
+
+He slipped out carefully, but seeing the predicament of the guard, he
+did not jump out into the snow, but advanced carefully along the
+footboards, feeling his way forward by the brass-work of the carriages.
+To the leeward the bulk of the train gave comparative shelter from the
+fury of the storm, and Acton was in a minute abreast of the guard,
+floundering heavily in the drifts.
+
+"This is a better way, guard. Take my hand, and I'll pull you up."
+
+"All right, sir. Here's the lamp."
+
+Acton's hand closed on the guard's wrist, and in a moment the young
+athlete had the man beside him. Together they made their way forward,
+and by the light of the lamp they saw what had happened. The engine had
+taken a drift edge-way, had canted up, and then rolled over against the
+walls of the cutting. Luckily, the carriages had kept the rails. The
+driver was up to his neck in the snow, but the fireman was not visible.
+
+Acton availed himself of the overturned engine, which was making
+unearthly noises, and reached out a hand for the driver. The latter
+clutched it, and scrambled out.
+
+"Where's your mate?"
+
+"Tom jumped the other way, sir."
+
+Acton swung the lamp round, sending its broad sheet of light into the
+driving snow. For a moment he could see nothing but the dazzling white
+floor, but next instant perceived the fireman, whose head rested against
+the horizontal wheel of the overturned engine.
+
+"This man is hurt," he said, when he saw a crimson stain on the snow.
+"Take the lamp, guard."
+
+Acton clambered over the short tender, seized the man by the shoulder,
+and, with an immense effort of strength, pulled him partly up. The man
+gave no signs of life.
+
+"Bear a hand, driver, will you? He's too much for me alone."
+
+The driver hastily scrambled beside Acton, and in a minute or so they
+had the insensible man between them.
+
+"He hurt himself as he jumped," said Acton, looking with concern at a
+gaping cut over the man's eye. "Anyhow, our first business is to bring
+him round."
+
+It was a weary business lifting the unconscious fireman into an empty
+compartment, and still more weary work to bring him round, but at last
+this was done. Acton tore up his handkerchief, and with melted snow
+washed clean the ugly cut on his forehead, and then left the fireman in
+charge of his mate.
+
+"We'll have to roost here, sir, all night. There's no getting out of
+this cutting, nohow. Thank you, sir; I'll see to Tom."
+
+Acton and the guard made their way back to the rear of the train, where
+the Amorians were awaiting their schoolfellow with impatience and
+anxiety.
+
+"The engine is off the rails and the stoker is damaged above a bit,"
+said Acton, seriously, "and we're fixtures here until the company comes
+and digs us out. There's only one thing to do: we must make ourselves as
+comfy as possible for the night. I must see that lady, though, before we
+do anything for ourselves. Back in a moment."
+
+Acton sallied out once more and devoted a good ten minutes to explaining
+matters to the very horrified and nervous lady and her tearful little
+twelve-year-old girl.
+
+"I'll bring you some cushions, and I'll steal Dick Worcester's pillow
+for the little girl," he explained cheerfully. "You have one rug, I see.
+We can spare you a couple more. No danger at all, really, But isn't it
+really horrid? We have not a morsel of food to offer you, but I dare say
+you can, if you don't worry over it, put up with a makeshift bed--only
+for one night, I'm sure."
+
+Acton relieved Dick Worcester--who plumed himself on his pillow--of
+that article, and one of Senior's rugs.
+
+On his return he confronted the dubious looks of his chums with his
+invincible cheerfulness.
+
+"Now, you fellows! we're to sleep here. Two on a seat is the order, and
+one on the floor, that's me. Dicky, darling, please don't roll off your
+perch. We've plenty of rugs and overcoats: enough to stock Nansen, Grim,
+so we shan't all wake up frozen to death."
+
+Gus Todd smiled dutifully at this bull.
+
+The guard came with a modest request.
+
+"Can you roost with us? Oh! certainly. Bag another cushion for the
+floor, and then you're all right. More, the merrier; and let the
+ventilation go hang. If Mr. Worcester doesn't fall on you, guard, I dare
+say you'll live to tell the tale."
+
+The Amorians, who trusted to Acton as they would have trusted to no one
+else on earth, entered into the fun of the thing, and the last joke of
+the night was a solemn warning to Grim from Dick Worcester to avoid
+snoring, as he valued his life.
+
+"We can manage like this for one night, anyhow," whispered Acton to the
+guard, "for we really keep each other warm. We'll get out of this
+to-morrow."
+
+The guard did not reply to this for fully a minute. He whispered back,
+"Listen to the wind, sir. The storm isn't half over yet. I've got my
+doubts about to-morrow. We're snowed up for more'n a day."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+OVER THE FELLS
+
+
+When day dawned, and the snowed-up travellers began to look around them,
+they found that, though the snow was not descending nearly as heavily as
+on the night before, the wind was still strong and the weather bitterly
+cold.
+
+On the windward side of the train the snow had drifted almost up to the
+window panes, but on the leeward there was considerably less. Looking up
+and down the line, they could see their train surrounded by its dazzling
+environment, and the drifts were so high that they had filled the low
+cutting stretching towards Lowbay level to its top.
+
+The train was an island in a sea of snow.
+
+The Amorians, stiff and cramped with their narrow quarters of the night,
+dropped off into the snow on the sheltered side and explored as far as
+the overturned engine, now stark and cold, with wonder and awe.
+
+"Why, we're like rats in a trap!" exclaimed Gus Todd.
+
+"We'll have a council of war now," said Acton, as he saw the driver and
+his mate floundering towards them, "and then we can see what's to be
+done--if anything can be done."
+
+It seemed the result of the council was to be the decision that there
+was nothing to be done. To go back to Lowbay, or forward to Lansdale,
+was plainly impossible, and neither guard nor driver thought they could
+be ploughed out under two days at the earliest. "And yet," concluded
+Acton, "we can't starve and freeze for two days. Look here, guard, isn't
+there a fell farm somewhere hereabouts? I begin to fancy----"
+
+"There's one over the hills yonder, three or four miles away. Might as
+well be three hundred, for they'll never dream of our being snowed up
+here."
+
+"Well, but can't we go to them, if you know the way?"
+
+"That's just what I don't know, with all this snow about. The farm is
+behind that hill somewhere; but I could no more take you there than fly.
+Besides, who could wade up to their necks in snow for half a mile, let
+alone three?"
+
+"But the snow won't be so deep on the fells as in these cuttings."
+
+"That's true, I suppose. But get into a drift on the fell--and, Lord,
+that would be easy enough--you're done. And there's becks deep enough to
+drown a man, and you'll never see them till you're up to your chin in
+their icy waters. I wouldn't chance it for anything. We mun wait here
+till we're dug out, sir, and that's all about it."
+
+"Where is that farm, guard? Behind which shoulder of the fell?"
+
+"Look here, Acton," began Dick Worcester, apprehensively, "I'm hanged if
+we're going to let you go groping about for any blessed farm in this
+storm. We'll eat the coals in the tender first!"
+
+"Thanks, Dick. Which shoulder, guard?"
+
+The man explained as fully and elaborately as if he might as well talk
+as think. The shoulder of the fell was noted by Acton exactly and
+carefully, even to borrowing a compass pendant off Todd's historic
+watch--chain.
+
+"It lies exactly N.N.E., and one could find one's way in the dark if
+that were all."
+
+"But it isn't, Acton," said Grim, anxiously, "not by a long chalk. Oh,
+Acton, don't go!"
+
+"I'm going to turn over the idea, Grim. But, anyhow, I don't stir out of
+this cutting until the snow's out of the sky."
+
+Acton and the guard talked long and seriously, whilst the Amorians put
+into practical working Senior's idea of a fire beside the van. There
+were coals galore.
+
+Half an hour afterwards the snow ceased. "Now," said Acton, quietly, "I
+know exactly where that farm is. I'm going to go now and have a try for
+it. I'll move the farm people, if I reach 'em, double quick back again
+with food, for they're used to these fells, and then we can all go back
+to the farm together. The fact is," said Acton, hurriedly, as he saw a
+chorus of dissent about to break out, "we _must_ get out of this very
+soon. There's the lady and the child--and even more than that, there is
+the fireman, who is downright ill. We cannot wait till we're dug out;
+that is absolutely certain. I'm not going to run any danger, and if I
+find I'm likely to, I'm coming back. I fancy, really," he added,
+laughing, "that the most difficult part of the business will be to get
+out of this cutting."
+
+The fellows all knew Acton; they knew that when he said things in a
+certain tone there was no good arguing. That was why Grim, with a white
+face, hurriedly left stoking the blazing fire and retired in dismay to
+the guard's van, and why Gus Todd, in an access of angry impatience,
+shied the magazine he had been turning over into the middle of the
+flames.
+
+Jack Senior said, "This is just like you, Acton. You _will_ fight more
+than your share of bargees, but this time I'm going to go one and one
+with you. If you like to risk being drowned in those beastly moorland
+streams, or to fall into some thirty-feet drift, I'm going to go too.
+That is final. _Kismet_, etc.!"
+
+Acton looked narrowly at Senior. "All right, Jack. Get your coat on;
+but, honour bright, I'd rather go alone."
+
+"Couldn't do it, old man," said Senior, whilst Worcester nodded
+approvingly. "What would Phil Bourne say, if he heard we'd let you melt
+away into---- I'm going too."
+
+The passage out of the cutting was not so difficult as Acton had
+bargained for; but Worcester and Todd did wonders with the fireman's
+shovels and made a lane through the drifts. On the firm ground of the
+fell the two found that, though the snow was deep enough in all
+conscience, it was not to be compared with the drifts on the line. The
+wind now, as they started off, was whipping away the loose top layers of
+snow in cold white clouds, which stung the face and ears with their icy
+sharpness; but, with caps well down and coats buttoned up to the ears,
+the two trudged on. The snow had ceased, but it was plain, by the dark
+and lowering sky, that this might only be temporary, and Acton kept up
+as smart a pace as he could, heading right for the shoulder of the fell,
+a couple of miles away, behind which he might, if he were lucky, see
+that moorland farm. The hill ran down into a valley, towards which the
+two Amorians hurried, Acton keeping his ears well open for the faintest
+murmur of water.
+
+"There's a beck somewhere down here, Jack, but we'll not see it until
+we're almost into it. So look out!"
+
+"All serene! I'm on the _qui vive!_" Hardly were the words out of
+Senior's mouth than he stumbled headlong forward, the ground opening at
+his feet, and a narrow ribbon of cold grey water, silently sliding under
+its shrunken banks, caught Acton's eye. Senior had plumped cleanly into
+this. Luckily, it was not very deep, and he scrambled out to the other
+side drenched to the skin, and showing clearly enough, where he had
+broken through the snow on both sides, that all the care in the world
+would not prevent them repeating the experience. The snow overhung a
+yard. Acton had stopped dead when he saw Senior disappear, but in a
+moment he had sprung clear, and was helping his friend up the bank. The
+snow slipped silently into the stream as he jumped.
+
+"That's number one," said Senior, "and only half an hour from the train!
+Any more hereabouts?"
+
+"I fancy so, but we may have better luck next time."
+
+"Hope so. Set the pace, old man, please. It's b-b-beastly c-c-cold."
+
+Acton was thoroughly upset by this mishap, and he headed up the opposite
+slope of the hill with a face that showed how the incident had shaken
+him. Senior's teeth chattered, and he looked blue with cold. The two
+plodded on, Acton insisting on Senior keeping behind. Acton again had
+the unenviable pleasure of seeing some more of those icy waters, and
+their slow and deadly stealing under the snow seemed to him sinister and
+fatal as he pulled himself up on the brink. The care necessary, the
+cold, cutting wind, and the knee-deep snow, made their progress terribly
+slow, and Acton began to notice that Senior, despite his anxiety for a
+sharp pace, was already terribly fagged.
+
+The distance widened between the two, and once, when Acton turned round
+and found his friend nearly thirty yards behind, his heart almost
+stopped beating.
+
+"This will never do! Heaven help us if he cracks up!" He waited for the
+weary Senior, and then said gently, "Pace too hot, old fellow?"
+
+"Rather. So sorry, but you seem to run almost."
+
+"Run!" smiled Acton, bitterly. "Why, we're not doing a mile an hour.
+Put your heart into it, Jack, and for Heaven's sake don't let me get too
+much in front!"
+
+"All serene!" said Senior, gamely.
+
+To Acton's intense alarm, the snow had recommenced, and the wind swept
+it down the fells full into their faces. Acton was afraid that he might
+make a mistake if the snow became so heavy as to blot out the landscape,
+and, knowing that to do so might have terrible consequences, he
+nervously forced the pace.
+
+Senior responded gamely.
+
+"Keep well behind, old man. You'll dodge the snow better. Can you do a
+wee sprint? We're not far from the top of the ridge, and then we've only
+to work down the hill and bear to the left, and there we are."
+
+"Only!" said Senior, wearily. "How far?"
+
+"A bare mile. Step it out for all you're worth."
+
+By this time it was obvious that the storm had recommenced in all its
+fury, and Acton, in an ecstasy of horror and anxiety lest he should turn
+the shoulder of the hill too late to see anything of the farm, almost
+ran forward. He had thrust out his head, and his eyes anxiously peered
+forward. They were now almost on the top of the shoulder of the fell.
+Acton turned round with eagerness.
+
+"Five minutes more and we're---- He's gone!"
+
+Senior, indeed, was not in sight. With a groan of despair, Acton ran
+back down the slope.
+
+"Jack! Jack! Jack!" he howled above the wind, "Where are you?"
+
+There was no reply
+
+"He's lost!"
+
+Further down the slope ran Acton, shouting into the storm. He heard
+nothing; not a sound. Then, and his heart almost burst with joy, his eye
+caught sight of a moving, staggering figure, drifting aimlessly across
+his path. Senior, half his senses beaten out of him by cold, wet, the
+wind, and lack of food, looked at the screaming Acton with
+uncomprehending eyes, and was aimlessly shaking off his grasp to lounge
+easily to death.
+
+"He _has_ cracked up," said Acton, in despair, and he gripped the
+half-senseless youth with frenzied strength.
+
+"This is the way you're to go--with me!" he yelled.
+
+Half-dragging, half-coaxing, uttering strange promises, to which Senior
+smiled stupidly, Acton regained those few but terrible yards to the top
+of the ridge. Then his heart almost died within him: there was nothing
+to be seen, as, half-blinded by the snow, he tried to peer down the
+valley.
+
+"Nothing!"
+
+Senior, bereft of his companion's arm, had sunk down happily upon the
+snow and looked at Acton, stupidly trying to make head or tail out of
+the situation. His face was darkly flushed; his lips were swollen; and
+his eyes were heavy with sleep.
+
+Roused from his momentary despair by these terrible signs, Acton seized
+his friend by the throat of his overcoat, and jerked him to his feet. He
+shook him savagely until some sign of intelligence glimmered in the
+sleepy eyes.
+
+"Jack! Jack! Keep awake! We'll win out yet if you do."
+
+"All right, old man: my head buzzes awf'ly, Where are we? What are you
+doing?"
+
+"We're going down the hill. Don't leave go of me whatever you do, and
+oh, keep awake."
+
+"Serene," said Senior, closing his eyes again peacefully.
+
+With a sob of horror and despair, Acton lurched down the hill, dragging
+his companion with him. He kept repeating, as though it were a formula:
+"Down the slope and bear to the left" again and again.
+
+What the next half-hour held of misery, horror, and utter despair, Acton
+cannot, even now, recall without a shudder. They stumbled and staggered
+downwards like drunken men. The snow blinded him, and the dragging
+weight of Senior on his arm was an aching agony, from which, above all
+things, he must not free himself.
+
+Then, as the very climax to hopeless despair, Senior rolled heavily
+forward and lay prone, as helpless as a log, his face buried in the
+snow! His cap had fallen off, and Acton watched the black curls
+whitening in the storm.
+
+How long he remained there, crouched before the motionless body, he does
+not know; only that he tried many times to shake the dying youth from
+the terrible torpor in vain. Senior breathed heavily, and that was all.
+
+All hope had died in Acton's breast. He threw himself forward beside
+his friend, and sobbed, with his face in the snow.
+
+A sound reached Acton's ears which brought him to his feet with a bound.
+He placed his hand to his ear, and sent his very soul to the effort to
+fix the sound again, above the roar of the wind. It was the deep, but
+not distant, low of cattle.
+
+A third time did the low boom through the storm.
+
+Almost frantic with a living hope, Acton turned to Senior. He raised the
+unconscious youth, and, by a mighty effort, got him upon his shoulders,
+and then staggered off in the direction of the sound. He has a faint
+recollection that he rolled over into the snow twice, that he waded
+across a river, with the water up to his arm-pits, and always that there
+was a weight on his neck that almost throttled him.... He felt that he
+was going mad. Then at last--it seemed many hours--a building, wreathed
+in white, seemed to spring up out of the storm. Delirious with joy,
+Acton staggered towards it with his burden. Some figures moved towards
+him, and Acton shouted for help as he pitched forward for the last time
+into the snow. He dimly remembers strong hands raising him up and
+helping him through a farmyard, which seemed somehow to tremble with the
+low of cattle, and then he was in a chair, and a fire in front of him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An hour or two afterwards, Acton was seated before a table, and, in the
+intervals of gulping down hot coffee and swallowing food, told his
+tale. The peasant farmer and his wife listened open-eyed with
+astonishment. The farmer, from sheer amazement, dropped into the
+broadest Westmoreland dialect.
+
+"How far did thoo carry t'other yan?"
+
+"Don't know, really. Seemed an awful way. I went through a river, I
+know. The water guggled under my arms."
+
+"River!" said the farmer, rising up and running his hand over Acton's
+clothes. "He _has_, wife; he's waded through t' beck! Man, give us thee
+hand! Thoo's a--thoo's a good 'un. Noa! thoo shan't stir. I'll bring
+t'folk over t'fell mysel'!"
+
+And he did--the farmhouse, a few hours afterwards, giving the snowed-up
+passengers a hospitality which none of them ever forgot.
+
+There was the jolliest Christmas at "Raven Crag" that had ever been
+known. Mrs. Acton had whipped up a cohort of _cousins et cousines_--as
+they say in the French books--and even Grim found a partner, who didn't
+dance half bad--for a girl. Did I say a jolly Christmas? Well, even
+jolly doesn't quite do it justice.
+
+Letters dropped in upon Acton in the course of the week. There was one
+from Senior's father, which made Acton blush like a school-girl. There
+was another, a very stately one, from the board-room of St. Eustis,
+wherein the secretary of the Great North and West Railway, on behalf of
+the directors, tendered him hearty thanks for his great services to
+themselves and their employees. There was another from a lady, which
+_simply gushed_. There also arrived a small lock of child's hair, which
+Mr. Acton was begged to accept from a little girl, who slept "on Mr.
+Acton's pillow." Dick Worcester claimed this, but Acton was adamant.
+
+"I say, Todd," said Grim, earnestly, "don't you think we fellows might
+give Acton some memorial or other, just to show what we think of him?"
+
+"Good, Grimmy! Trot out suggestions."
+
+"Well, I had thought of a stained-glass window in----"
+
+Todd couldn't look at W.E.G.'s face for days after without a quiver.
+
+
+THE END
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
+
+LONDON AND BECCLES.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Acton's Feud, by Frederick Swainson
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