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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f3be0e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54270 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54270) diff --git a/old/54270-0.txt b/old/54270-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 91a7252..0000000 --- a/old/54270-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5127 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Human Boy, by Eden Phillpotts - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Human Boy - -Author: Eden Phillpotts - -Release Date: March 2, 2017 [EBook #54270] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMAN BOY *** - - - - -Produced by KD Weeks, MWS and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - Transcriber’s Note: - -This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. -Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. - -Please consult the note at the end of this text for a discussion of any -textual issues encountered in its preparation. - - - - - THE HUMAN BOY - - - - - BY - - EDEN PHILLPOTTS - - AUTHOR OF “CHILDREN OF THE MIST” - “FOLLY AND FRESH AIR” ETC. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - - HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - NEW YORK AND LONDON - 1900 - - - - - TO - - PHILLPOTTS “MINOR” - - AS A TRIFLING TRIBUTE OF FRATERNAL REGARD - AND IN GREEN AND GRATEFUL MEMORY OF - - OUR HAPPY BOYHOOD - - - - - CONTENTS - - PAGE - - THE ARTFULNESS OF STEGGLES 1 - - THE PROTEST OF THE WING DORMITORY 23 - - “FRECKLES” AND “FRENCHY” 47 - - CONCERNING CORKEY MINIMUS 69 - - THE PIEBALD RAT 94 - - BROWNE, BRADWELL, AND ME 115 - - GIDEON’S FRONT TOOTH 133 - - THE CHEMISTRY CLASS 150 - - DOCTOR DUNSTON’S HOWLER 171 - - MORRANT’S HALF-SOV 202 - - THE BUCKENEERS 226 - - The Human Boy - - - - - The Artfulness of Steggles - - - I - -I remember the very evening he came to Merivale. “Nubby” Tomkins had a -cold on his chest, so Mathers and I stopped in from the half-hour -“kick-about” in the playground before tea, being chums of Nubby’s. -Whenever he gets a cold on the chest he thinks he is going to die, and -this evening, sitting by the fire in the Fifth’s class-room, he roasted -chestnuts for Mathers and me, and took a very gloomy view of his future -life. - -“As you know,” he said, “I hate being out of doors excepting when I can -lie about in hay. And to make me go out walking in all weathers, as they -do here, is simply murder. I know what’ll be the end of it. I shall get -bacilluses or microbes into some important part of me, and die. It’s -like those books the Doctor reads to the kids on Sundays, with -choir-boys in them. The little brutes sing like angels, and their voices -go echoing to the top of cathedrals, and make people blub about in the -pews. Then they get microbes on the chest, and kick. You know the only -thing I can do is to sing; and I shall die as sure as mud.” - -Nubby was a corker at singing. He had all the solos in the chapel to -himself, and people came miles to hear him. - -“You won’t die,” said Mathers. “You don’t give your money away to the -poor, or help blind people across roads, and all that. Your voice’ll -crack, and you’ll live.” - -“I wish it would,” said Nubby; “I should feel a lot safer.” - -“Mine,” continued Mathers, “cracked when my mustache came.” - -We looked at him as he patted it. Mathers was going next term. He had -more mustache than, at least, two of the under-masters, and once he let -Nubby stroke it, and Nubby said he could feel it distinctly under the -hand. - -“That’s what’s done it with M.,” said Nubby, looking at Mathers and -opening another gloomy subject. - -Mathers got redder, and began peeling a chestnut. - -“I wish I was as certain as you,” he said. - -“None of us can be certain,” I said; “but if your voice did go, Nubbs, -you’d be out of the hunt for one.” - -“I am,” declared Nubby. “Last time I had a cold in the throat she sent -me a little bunch of grapes by Jane, and a packet of black currant -lozenges; but this time, though the attack is on my chest, and I may -die, she hasn’t sent a thing.” - -“Perhaps she doesn’t know.” - -“She does. I met her going into the library yesterday, and I doubled up -and barked like a dog, and she never even said she was sorry. It lies -between you two chaps now.” - -“I believe you are going strongest just at present,” said Mathers, -critically, to me. “You came off last Wednesday and kicked two goals on -your own, and she said afterwards to Browne that she never saw you play -a bigger game. Then that little beast--Browne, I mean--sniggered, and -made that noise in his throat, like a sprung bat, and said he was quite -glad he hadn’t kept you in. That’s how he shows M. what a gulf there is -even between the Fifth and masters.” - -“The bigger the gulf the better,” I said. “It would be rough on a decent -worm to put it second to Browne. In my opinion even a Double-First would -be nothing if he wore salmon-colored ties and elastic-sided boots; and -Browne isn’t a Double-First by long chalks. He can only teach the kids, -and his desk is well known to be crammed with cribs of every kind.” - -In the matter of M., I may say at once that she was Milly, Doctor -Denham’s youngest daughter--twelve and a half, fair, blue eyes, and -jolly difficult to please. Somehow the Fifth always drew her most. The -Sixth were feeble beggars at that time. Two of the ten wore spectacles, -and one was going out to Africa as a missionary, and used to treat the -Fifth’s class-room as a sort of training-ground for preaching and doing -good. He was called Fulcher, and the spirit was willing in him, but the -flesh was flabby. We used to assegai him with stumps, and pretend to -scalp him and boil him and eat him. He said he should glory in martyrdom -really; and Nubbs, who knows a good deal about eating, used to write -recipes for cooking Fulcher, and post them to imaginary African kings. -But I should think that to be merely eaten is not martyrdom, properly -speaking. If it is, then everything we eat, down to periwinkles, must be -martyrs; which is absurd, like Euclid says. - -Well, it got to be a settled idea at Merivale that M. cared, in a sort -of vague way, for either Nubby, or Mathers, or me, or all of us. The -situation was too uncertain for anything like real jealousy among us; -besides, we were chums, and had no objection to going shares in M.’s -regard. At football Mathers and I fought like demons for Merivale and -for M.’s good word; but any impression we might make was generally swept -away in chapel by Nubby when Sunday came. He could sing, mind you. It -was like cold water down your spine, and all from printed music. -Besides, he could be ill, which gave him a pull over Mathers and me, who -couldn’t. To look at, Nubby was nothing. He had big limbs, but they were -soft as sausages. If you punched him he didn’t bruise yellow and -afterwards black, but merely turned red and then white again. Mathers, -besides being captain of the First Footer eleven, had nigger hair, that -girls always go dotty about, and black eyes, and pretty nearly as much -mustache as eyebrow. As for me, my biceps were the biggest in the lower -school, which isn’t much, of course; but things like that tell with a -girl. - -Then it was that conversation turned on Steggles. He was a new boy, due -that afternoon. Hardly had the name passed my lips when the door opened, -and the Doctor’s head appeared. The next moment a chap followed him. - -“Ah! there are some of the fellows by the fire,” said the Doctor. “Is -that you, Tomkins? But I needn’t ask.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Nubby, rising. - -“You are ill-advised, Tomkins, to spend the greater part of your leisure -sitting, as you do, almost upon the hob. A constitutional weakness is -thereby increased. This is Steggles. You will have time for a little -conversation before tea.” - -The Doctor disappeared, and Steggles came slowly down the room with his -hands in his pockets. There was nothing to indicate a new boy about him. -He had red rims to his eyes and a spot or two on his face, chiefly near -his nose and on his forehead; his hair was sandy, and he wore a gold -watch-chain. - -“You’re called Steggles, aren’t you?” said Nubby, who was an awfully -civil chap in his manners. - -“I am.” - -“Well, I hope you’ll like Merivale.” - -“Do you?” - -“All right in summer-time when there’s hay. Hate it when I’m ill, which -I am now.” - -“What can you do?” asked Mathers in his abrupt way. - -“I can draw,” said Steggles. - -“What?” - -“Devils.” - -“Do one,” said Mathers. - -He got a piece of _Cambridge demi_ and a pen and ink. Then Steggles, -evidently anxious to please, sat down, and did as good a devil as ever I -saw. Nubby and I were greatly pleased. - -“What else can you do?” said Mathers, as if such a power to draw devils -wasn’t as much as you could expect from one chap. - -“I can smoke.” - -“Cigarettes? So can anybody.” - -“No; a pipe.” - -“Oh! where did you learn that?” - -“At Harrow.” - -Then Steggles started like a guilty thing and put his hand over his -mouth--too late. A rumor we had heard was proved true. - -“It would have been sure to get out, and I don’t care who knows it, for -that matter,” said Steggles, defiantly. “I had to leave there because I -didn’t know enough, and couldn’t get up higher in the school. I’m rather -backward through not being properly taught. The teaching at Harrow’s -simply cruel. Not but what I’ve taught myself a thing or two, mind you. -I’m fifteen.” - -He looked at us out of his red-rimmed eyes, and put me in mind of a -ferret I’ve got at home. He might have been any age up to twenty, I -thought. - -“Can you play anything?” asked Mathers. - -“The piano.” - -Mathers shivered and Nubby grew excited. - -“So can I. We’ll do duets,” he said. - -“If you like,” said Steggles. - -Then the tea-bell rang. - - - II - -Whole books might be written about Steggles at Merivale. I heard -Thompson say, after he had been there a week, that it wasn’t what he -didn’t know had rendered it necessary for Steggles to leave Harrow, but -what he did know. Certainly he had a great deal of general information -about rum things. He got newspapers by post concerning sporting matters; -he knew an immense deal about dogs and horses; and Nubbs, who was a -judge, said his piano-playing surpassed his devil-drawing for sheer -brilliance. Yet, with all these accomplishments, he only managed to get -into the Fourth. As to his smoking, it was certainly wonderful. And he -ate things afterwards to hide the smell. He had a genius for wriggling -out of rows and for getting them up between other fellows. He loved to -look on at fighting and knew all the proper rules. On the whole he was -rather a beast, and, if it hadn’t been for Nubby, Mathers and I should -have barred him. But all I’m going to tell about now is the hideous -discovery of Steggles and M., and the thing that happened on the day of -the match with Buckland Grammar School. - -M. had been very queer for a fortnight--queer, I mean, with all three of -us--which was unusual. Then, seeing how the cat had taken to jumping, I -tackled her one morning going through the hall to the Doctor’s study. - -“How d’you like Steggles?” I said. - -“Very well. He’s clever,” she said. - -“He’s fifteen,” I said; “he ought to know something if he’s ever going -to. He’s only in the Fourth, anyway.” - -“You’re jealous and so is Mathers,” she said. - -“Jealous of a chap with ferret-eyes! Not likely,” I said. - -“You are, though.” - -“Not more than Nubbs and Mathers, anyway,” I said. “It’s off with the -old friends and on with the new, I suppose.” - -“Steggles knows how to treat a girl. You might learn manners from him, -and so might the others,” she said. - -“And also the piano, perhaps?” - -“He plays beautifully.” - -“Have you seen him play football?” - -“No.” - -“Lucky for you.” - -“Football isn’t everything.” - -“No, not since he came; I’ve noticed that.” - -This bitter speech stung M., and her eyes jolly well flashed sparks. - -“Nor singing either,” I went on. “Nubbs nearly burst himself last Sunday -in chapel; and all the time you were watching Steggles making a rabbit -with his pocket-handkerchief.” - -“I’ll thank you not to interest yourself in me any more,” she said, -“either in chapel or out of it.” - -“All right. I dare say I shall still live,” I said. “Does that remark -apply equally to Mathers and Nubby, or only to me?” - -“To Mathers, yes,” she said. “He’s as bad as you are. Not to Nubbs.” - -Then she went. - -Well, there it stood. When I told them Mathers seemed to think I needn’t -have dragged him in, and Nubbs got clean above himself with hope, not -seeing that he was really just as much out of it as us. Of course we -chucked Steggles for good and all then, and told him what we thought of -him. That was when he said something about only the brave deserving the -fair, and Mathers made him sit down in a puddle for cheeking him in the -playground. Steggles’s eyes looked like one of his own devils while he -sat there, but he took it jolly quietly at the time. That got Nubby’s -wool off though, because he supported Steggles, and things were, in -fact, rather difficult all round till the day of the Buckland Grammar -School match. Buckland was two miles from Merivale, and most of the team -went by train; but Mathers and I, the day being fine, decided to walk; -and at the last moment Nubbs asked if he might come with Steggles. - -Out of consideration for Nubby we agreed, and the four of us started on -a fine bright afternoon just after dinner. Mathers and I had our -football things on, of course; Nubbs was dressed in his usual style, and -Steggles, who used to get himself up tremendously on half-holidays, wore -yellow spats over his boots, and a sort of white thing under his -waistcoat, and gloves. We had rather more than half an hour’s walk -before us, and hardly were we out of sight of Merivale when Steggles -pulled out his pipe and lighted it. - - - III - -The artfulness of Steggles properly begins here. He knew several things -we didn’t. He knew, for instance, that M. was coming to the football -match, that she was going to ride her bicycle over on the road by which -we walked, that only the day before he had quarrelled with her, and that -his position with regard to her was at that hour most risky. All these -things Steggles well knew, and we didn’t. So he lighted his pipe with an -air of long practice. The smell was fine, and he smacked his lips now -and then. - -“Nice pouch?” he said, handing me a velveteen pouch with his initials on -it in green silk. - -“I’ll bet a girl did that,” said Mathers. - -“It’s a secret,” said Steggles, smiling to himself. - -Then he asked very civily if we would care to join him, explaining that -he generally kept a few spare pipes about him for friends. - -“I would if it wasn’t for the match,” said Mathers. - -“So would I,” I said. - -“Well, my baccy might turn you fellows up. Perhaps you are wise,” -declared Steggles, puffing away. Then he tried Nubby with a little -cherry-wood pipe, and Nubbs thought a whiff or two wouldn’t hurt him and -began rather nervously, but gathered courage as he went on. - -“I heard my father say once that life without tobacco would be hell,” -said Steggles; “and I agree with him.” - -“So do I; it’s very soothing,” said Nubby. - -Then Mathers burst out. He had been sulking ever since Steggles hinted -that the contents of his velveteen pouch were too strong for us. - -“If you think I funk your tobacco you’re wrong,” Mathers said. “I’ve -smoked three parts of a cigar before to-day.” - -“A chocolate one, perhaps?” said Steggles, but in such a humble, -inquiring voice that Mathers couldn’t hit him. - -“No, a tobacco one; and if you’ve got another pipe I’ll show you.” - -“So will I,” I chimed in. Mathers’s lead was always good enough for me. - -Steggles immediately lugged out two more pipes. He seemed to be stuffed -with them. - -“Get it well alight at the start,” he explained, handing a fusee. - -“All right, all right, I know,” said Mathers. Soon we were at it like -four chimneys, and Steggles praised us in such a way that we could take -no offence. - -“You’ve all smoked many a time and oft, I can see that,” he said. - -Mathers spat about a good deal, and fancied tobacco was probably a fine -steadier for the nerves before a football match; and Nubbs said he -thought so too; and he also thought that after a little smoking one -didn’t want to talk, but ought just to keep quiet and think of -interesting things. - -“It widens the mind,” said Steggles. - -We tramped on rather silently for ten minutes till Nubbs spoke again. To -our surprise his hopeful tone had changed, and we found he had turned a -sort of putty-color, with blue lips. He said: - -“I’ll overtake you fellows. I think I’ve got--I’ve got a bit of a -sunstroke or something. It’ll pass off, no doubt.” - -“Better not smoke any more,” said Steggles. - -“It isn’t that, but I won’t, all the same. I’ll just dodge through that -hole in the hedge and find some wild strawberries or hazel-nuts, or -something.” - -Seeing it was a frosty day in December Nubby’s statements looked wild. -But he went. There was a hole in the hedge, with tree-roots trailing -across it, and Nubbs crawled shakily through, like a wounded rabbit, -into a place where a board was stuck up saying that people would be -prosecuted according to law if they went there. But he didn’t seem to -care, though it wasn’t a thing he would have done in cold blood. I saw -Mathers grow uneasy in his mind. - -“Wasn’t the pipe--eh?” - -“No, no. This tobacco--why, a child could smoke it,” said Steggles. “You -know what Nubbs is. It’s only an excuse to turn. He hates football and -hates walking.” - -We kept on again, and I began to feel a slight perspiration on my -forehead and a weird sort of feeling everywhere. I had smoked about half -the pipe. - -“I sha’n’t go on with this now because of the match,” I said, hastily -knocking out the remaining tobacco and handing his loathsome little clay -back to Steggles. - -“Why!” he said, “blessed if you haven’t gone the same color as Nubbs -did! Don’t say you’ve got a sunstroke too?” - -There was something in the voice of Steggles I didn’t much like, but I -hardly felt equal to answering him then. - -“You’re all right, anyway, aren’t you, Mathers?” he asked. - -“Of course I am. What the dickens d’ you mean?” - -“Nothing. Glad you like my baccy. There’s plenty of time for another -pipe.” - -“No there isn’t,” said Mathers. “I very much wish there was.” - -We walked on a few yards farther. - -“D’ you drink that rich, brown cod-liver oil, the same as Nubby?” asked -Steggles of Mathers, suddenly. Mathers looked at him, and I knew how -things were in a moment. For a moment my own sufferings were forgotten -before the awful spectacle of the ruin of Mathers. He gave his pipe back -quietly, took great gasps of air, mopped his forehead, and rolled his -eyes about. Then he said: - -“I’m not quite happy about Nubbs. You push on, and I’ll overtake you.” - -“Hanged if you’re not queer too!” exclaimed Steggles. “Whoever would -have thought that Three Castles--” - -“Shut up,” said Mathers, hoarsely. “It was the boi--boiled beef at -dinner.” - -He spoke the words with an awful effort. - -“So it was,” I said, feebly. “We never could stand it--either of us.” - -“A steaming glass of hot grog is what you want,” said Steggles, -sympathetically. - -“Go!” gasped Mathers, who really looked horrid now; “go! or I’ll kick -you, if it kills me to do it.” - -“Blessed if you haven’t turned green, Mathers,” said Steggles. “You look -as if you’d been buried and dug up again. I don’t say it unkindly, but -it’s jolly curious.” - -At the same moment ting! ting! went a bicycle bell; and there was Milly, -looking fine. - -“You’ll all be late,” she said. - -We prayed she would hurry on and not observe us too narrowly. Then that -beast, Steggles, made her stop. - -“Look here,” he said, “it’s frightfully serious because of the -match--these poor chaps are ill--just cast your eye at the colors -they’ve gone. They worried me to let them try to smoke, and--” - -“I’ll break your neck for this!” interrupted Mathers. Then he turned to -M. - -“If you’re a lady, if you ever cared an atom about us, please ride on -round that corner. We’re ill--can’t you see it?” - -“Yes, I can--anybody could. I’m sorry. But you won’t hurt Steggles if I -go?” said M. - -“No; I promise. Say we’re on the road and shall be there in ten--ten-- -Go!” - -M. took the hint and rode off, with Steggles frisking beside her, like -the dog he was. - -“Thank the Lord!” said Mathers. Then horrid things happened both to him -and me. - -We crawled to the match more dead than alive and found a crowd waiting, -and Browne and several of the other masters. We were fully twenty -minutes late. “This is very unsportsmanlike, the days being so short -too!” Browne squeaked. Then we took off our coats and tottered into the -field of play. - -Of course Buckland Grammar School won. Our side would have done a long -way better without us. I couldn’t take a pass or shoot for the life of -me--it occupied all my time wrestling with nature, let alone the -Bucklanders. And Mathers, who played back, was worse. The roughs “guyed” -him, and asked him what he’d been drinking. If they’d asked him what -he’d been smoking there might have been some sense in it. He told me -afterwards that he often saw three footballs at one time when he tried -to kick, and sometimes four, and the ball he kicked always turned out to -be an apparition. Bradwell kept goal grandly too; but it was no good -with Mathers like that, and he utterly ruined Ashby Major, the other -back. - -Nubbs had gone to bed when we got back, and the matron, knowing Nubbs -had a tricky system, sent for Doctor Barnes. Nubbs, therefore, gave -himself away. - -M. never looked at any of us again, and she and Steggles undoubtedly -became frightful pals; but the next term, just before Easter, I had the -pleasure of writing a fine letter to Mathers, who had left Merivale, and -was reading for six months with a private tutor before going to -Cambridge. This is part of the letter: - -“Dear Mathers,” I wrote, “you will be interested to know that Browne has -come down on Steggles at last. I fancy Browne knew the Doctor was fairly -sick of Steggles and wanted to be rid of him. In fact, I heard the -Doctor call Steggles a canker-worm myself. Anyway, Browne blew up on the -smoking, and Steggles will soon probably vanish, like the dew upon the -fleece. M. cried a bit, I fancy, when she heard it, but Nubbs says she -smiled at him two mornings afterwards coming out of chapel. Nubbs -expects to crack (his voice) any day, but he hopes to get a definite -understanding with M. before it happens. It’ll be too late after. Of -course she never looks at me. She told Steggles, and he told me, that -she could not possibly care for a person she had once seen the hue of a -Liberty Art Fabric--meaning me. I scragged Steggles after he told me. -But it is all over now. I believe he is to go into his father’s -business--Steggles & Stote, Wine Merchants. M. is more beautiful than -ever, though I’m afraid she’s got a bad disposition. To reflect on a -fellow’s color at such a time as that was a bit rough.” - - - - - The Protest of the Wing Dormitory - - - I - -This is the story of the most tremendous thing that ever happened at -Dunston’s, or any other school, I should think. Though in it luckily, I -didn’t do any of the big part, being merely one of those chaps who were -flogged and not expelled afterwards. Trelawny and Bradwell carried the -thing through, and all the other fellows in the Wing Dormitory followed -their lead. And, mind you, everybody had the welfare of the school at -heart. It seemed a jolly brave sort of thing to do, and jolly -interesting. Trelawny arranged the military side of the business, and -Bradwell, whose father is known as the “Whiteley” of some place in -Yorkshire, looked to the commissariat, which means feeding. As to -Trelawny, who really captained the dormitory, he was Cornish, and a -relation of that very chap fifty thousand Cornish men wanted to know the -reason why about long ago. He was going to be a soldier, read history -books for choice, and already knew many military words. - -I was Bradwell’s fag at the time, because Watson minor had failed in -some secret enterprise, and I remember the first conversation which led -to everything. Happening to take some tuck in to Bradwell in the Fifth -class-room, I found Trelawny there and heard him say: - -“The only way. A protest, and a jolly dignified one, must be made. It’s -for the credit of the school, and if the Doctor will not see it we must -show him. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I think if a section of chaps -could put themselves in a strong, fortified position they might demand -to be heard, and even be able to offer an--an ultimatum. Of course, -doing the thing for the good of the school and not for ourselves makes -us morally right.” - -“Of course,” said Bradwell. - -“But we must be physically strong. In warfare the relative positions of -the sides are always taken into account when the treaties of peace are -arranged.” - -“What are you staring at?” said Bradwell to me. “You hook it.” - -So I hooked. But I knew perfectly well what they were talking about. -Everybody in the Wing Dormitory did, because they often discussed the -same question after they thought the rest of the chaps were asleep. It -was the new mathematical master, Thompson, who troubled not only -Trelawny and Bradwell but a lot of the other fellows. Trelawny had -called him an “unholy bounder” the third day he was there, and that -seemed to be a general opinion. Yet, with all his bounderishness, he was -awfully clever, and meant well. But he didn’t know anything about chaps -in a general way, and he left out his h’s and stuck them in with awfully -rum effects. Thompson tried hard to be friendly to everybody, but only -the kids liked him. He couldn’t understand somehow, and insulted chaps -in the most frightful way, not seeing any difference between fellows at -the top of the school and mere kids at the bottom. Captains of elevens -were as nothing to him. He seemed to have read up boys like he read -mathematics and stuff--from rotten books. He would say sometimes, “Now, -you fellows, let’s ’ave a jolly game of leap-frog before the bell -rings,” and things like that. Boys never do play leap-frog except in -books really. Once he offered to show Trelawny how to make a kite, and -he asked Chambers--_Chambers_, mind you, the Captain of the First Eleven -at Cricket--whether he knew a shop where there were capital iron hoops -for sale at a shilling each. I heard him say it, and he put it like -this: “I say, Chambers, do you know those splendid ’oops they sell at -Burford’s in ’Igh Street? It’s out of bounds, but if you like I’ll get -you one this evening. They’ve got iron crooks and everything. I make -this offer because you understood a little of what I said about Conic -Sections this afternoon.” Thompson meant so jolly well that nobody could -get in a wax with him personally; and, as I say, the kids, who didn’t -see the “unholy bounder” side of him, and only knew he stood gallons of -ginger-beer on half-holidays in the playing-fields, liked him better -than anybody. But Trelawny took big views, and so did Bradwell, and they -decided to make a definite protest. - -Nothing happened till one day Thompson said something about Trelawney’s -“Celtic thickness of skull.” That stung Trelawny like nettles, and he -set to work and arranged the great plot of the Wing Dormitory. He -decided that the fifteen chaps who slept in the isolated Wing Dormitory -of Dunston’s were to fortify the place, and hold it before the world and -the Doctor as a protest against Thompson. Every chap in the dormitory, -from Trelawny and Bradwell to Watson minor, signed their names in their -own blood on a paper Trelawny drew out; and Watson minor fainted while -he was doing it, not being able to see his own gore on a pen without -going off. We swore by a tremendous swear to obey Trelawny, to fortify -the Wing Dormitory against siege, to devote every penny of our week’s -pocket-money to provisions, and to hold out till we starved, having -first signed another paper for Doctor Dunston explaining our united -protest against Thompson, and hoping for the good of the school that he -would be removed. I didn’t understand much about it really. In fact, I -don’t believe anybody did but Trelawny and Bradwell. Only they said we -were acting for the good of the school, and they also said that if we -held the Wing Dormitory properly nothing short of cannon or starvation -could dislodge us. It was a tremendously tall building, complete in -itself, with iron fire-proof doors constructed to cut it off from the -rest of the school, and with a bath-room and a lavatory adjoining, all -at a great height above the ground. The windows were barred to keep -chaps getting out. The bars would also keep chaps getting in, as -Trelawny pointed out. He found also that it was possible when the iron -doors were closed to pull down some wood-work, and stick things behind -the doors so as they could not be opened again. The only entrance to the -Wing Dormitory was through these iron doors, so once shut we were safe -against anything but gunpowder; and Trelawny said Doctor Dunston was not -the man to resort to physical means, especially if it meant knocking the -place about. Bradwell came out wonderfully about the food, and knowing -jolly well that they would turn the water out of the bath-room when the -siege started, he made every chap fill his basin and jug the night -before; because fresh water is vital to a siege. - -There were fifteen chaps, and the time came at last, and one night we -laid the manifesto on the mat outside the iron door, made everything -fast, and waited to see what would happen. Some fellows thought that -Thompson would be sent away at once, to avoid the affair becoming -serious; others fancied we should be starved out or expelled to a man. -Trelawny never hazarded any guess at what would be the end of it. “We -are doing our duty in the interests of the school,” he said, “and -whatever happens we mean well; and if it gets into print the sympathy of -all chaps in public schools will be on our side.” - - - II - -When the gas was turned out at the meter on the night preceding the -siege, Trelawny made a short speech. First he lighted two candles and -made us sign the protest; then he explained his military system of night -and day watches and guards. Each of the four windows had a guard at all -hours, and two chaps were to be stationed at the iron door. This was -made doubly strong by beds piled against it, after the manifesto had -been finally signed and left outside. The document ran thus: - -“We, the undersigned, thinking that the fame of Dunston’s is tarnished -by Mr. Thompson, M.A., Fellow of Trinity College, Camb., hereby protest, -and formally assert themselves to call attention to Mr. Thompson. We, -the undersigned, have no personal grudge to Mr. Thompson, but think him -unsuited to carry on the great reputation of Dunston’s. We, the -undersigned, take this important step fully alive to the gravity of it, -for we are prepared to suffer if necessary to call attention to the -subject. We do not doubt Mr. Thompson’s goodness, and wish it to be -understood that the action is abstract and not personal. A string will -be lowered from the third window of the Wing Dormitory to-morrow at 8.30 -A.M. Any answer to the protest will receive instant attention from us -the undersigned.” - -Then followed the names. - -Of course, it was all Greek to the kids, but they put their trust in -Trelawny and signed to a kid. - -Inside the dormitory we were jolly busy, too, because after Trelawny, as -commander, had made his rules and regulations clear, Bradwell, as the -head of the commissariat, drew up a list of the total supplies, and -showed what each fellow had contributed to the store. This list I copied -for Bradwell at the time, with notes about the different supplies. It -comes in here, and I must give it, just to show what different ideas -different chaps have about the things you ought to eat in a siege. - -TRELAWNY.--Two hams, eight loaves of bread. - -BRADWELL.--Three tins potted salmon, two seed-cakes (big), box of -biscuits. - -ASHBY MAJOR.--Ten tins sardines. (Ashby has five shillings a week -pocket-money, his father being rather rich. Bradwell said it was rather -a pity he spent it all in sardines.) - -ASHBY MINOR.--Three pats of butter, three tins Swiss milk, one tin Guava -jelly. (Bradwell was awfully pleased about the milk, because he said it -was at once nourishing and pleasant to the taste.) - -WILSON.--Six dried herrings, two pots veal and ham paste, one pot -marmalade. (Herrings useless, unless eaten raw.) - -WEST.--Four bottles raspberry vinegar. (I am West, and I thought -raspberry vinegar would be a jolly good thing to break the monotony of a -siege. But Bradwell said it was simply a luxury.) - -MORRANT.--One hamper containing twenty-four apples, twenty-seven pears, -two pots blackberry jam. (Morrant has no pocket-money, but Bradwell said -the fruit was good for a change.) - -GIDEON.--Nothing. (Gideon is a Jew by birth, and gets ten shillings a -week pocket-money. He pretended he had forgotten. Trelawny says he will -suffer for it in the course of the siege.) - -MATHERS.--Eight pieces of shortbread, five slabs of toffee, seven -sausage-rolls. (The rolls were cut in half to be eaten first thing -before they went bad. But Bradwell said Mathers had made the selection -of a fool, and so Mathers was rather vexed with Bradwell.) - -NEWNES.--Ten loaves (five brown), one packet of beef tabloids. (Trelawny -congratulated Newnes.) - -MCINNES.--A lot of spring onions and lettuces, costing one-and-sixpence. -(McInnes had been reading a book about chaps getting scurvy on a raft, -and he thought a siege would be just the place for scurvy, so he bought -all green stuff; and Bradwell said it was good.) - -CORKEY MINIMUS.--Three pounds of mixed sweets. (Bradwell smacked his -head when he heard what Corkey minimus had got; but Trelawny pointed out -that a few sweets served out from time to time might distract the mind.) - -DERBYSHIRE.--A pigeon-pie and thirteen currant buns with saffron in -them. - -FORREST.--Four pots Bovril, one bottle cider. (Bovril can be taken on -bread like treacle, and once saved the lives of several shipwrecked -sailors.) - -WATSON MINOR.--Two pounds dog-biscuits, one pound dried figs, one box of -dates. (Asked why he took dog-biscuits, he explained it was because he -had seen an advertisement about the goodness of them. It said they had -dried buffalo meat in them, which was a thing you could live for an -immense duration of time on. Trelawny said that was pretty fair sense -for a kid.) - - * * * * * - -All this splendid food was brought out of boxes where it had been hidden -and placed in the hands of Bradwell; and that night he sat up with a -candle and drew out bills of fare and made calculations. We were rather -surprised in the morning to hear the rations would not last more than a -fortnight, but Trelawny said the siege must be over long before that. -Nobody slept much, and many had dressed before the first bell rang. When -the second bell rang Trelawny and Bradwell went to the door to listen. - -Presently Thompson, of all people, came up and tried to get in and -couldn’t. He shook the door, then saw the envelope addressed to the -Doctor, and said: - -“What’s the meaning of this, you fellows? Let me in at once!” - -But nobody answered. Then he cleared off. At 8.30 the string was lowered -from the window, and Trelawny went and stood by it to pull up any letter -that might be fastened to it. But none was. Some of the chaps were -prowling about outside looking at the Wing Dormitory, but Trelawny -wouldn’t let anybody go to the windows except himself. - -Then, as nothing happened, we had breakfast. McInnes and Forrest were -told off to help Bradwell, and each chap’s rations were put on his bed -after he had made it. We all got the same except Gideon--a slice of -bread, two sardines, half one of Mathers’s sausage-rolls, and half a -tumbler of water. So we began at once to see what a jolly serious thing -a siege is. And Gideon saw it more than we did, because he had no -sardines and no sausage-roll. He offered Trelawny money for a little -more food, but Trelawny said he shouldn’t have as much as one mixed -sweet, though he might pay gold for it. He said, “You will have barely -enough to keep you alive.” And Gideon turned awfully white when he heard -it. - -Breakfast didn’t take more than about five minutes, then there was a -tremendous knocking at the iron door, and Bradwell said the trouble had -begun, but Trelawny said it was the summons to a parley. Anyway, we -heard the Doctor’s voice, and it wasn’t much of a parley, strictly -speaking, because he spoke first, and merely gave us two minutes to be -in our places down-stairs. - -“If you don’t obey, one and all of you,” said the Doctor, “you must take -the consequences. As it is, they will be sufficiently grave. Any further -offence I shall know how to treat.” - -“If you please, sir,” said Trelawny, “the string is out of the window. -We are doing this for the good of the school, and--” - -Then he stopped, because he had heard the Doctor go away. - -“He’ll try a blacksmith first,” said Forrest; “then, when they find they -can’t do anything with this iron door, he’ll send for policemen.” - -But nothing was done, strangely enough, and Trelawny made the chaps lie -down and sleep if they could in the afternoon, because he expected a -night attack with ladders. To get in it would be necessary to remove the -bars from the windows, and anybody attempting to do so would, of course, -be at our mercy with the windows open. - -For dinner that day we had one of Trelawny’s hams cut into fifteen -pieces, with two rather thin slices of bread, one spring onion, and -three mixed sweets each, and as much raspberry vinegar as would go into -a bullet-mold that Wilson had. Gideon ate the ham like anybody else, -which shows Jews don’t refuse pork in any shape at times of siege, -whatever they say. Trelawny wouldn’t give him any raspberry vinegar, but -Ashby minor let him have one of his mixed sweets, which was green and -had arsenic in it, Ashby minor thought. - -It seemed a frightfully long day, and nothing being done against us made -it longer. Bradwell tried to cook Wilson’s herrings with stuff out of a -pillow-case, but unfortunately failed. Trelawny explained that Dunston -was working out tactics, and would do something when the moon rose. He -said our motto was to be “Defence, not Defiance”; but Derbyshire said -they were going to starve us out like rats, so as to reduce the glory as -much as possible. One or two chaps had private rows that day, and -Trelawny was pretty short and sharp. He said we were to regard ourselves -as under martial law, and he stopped Forrest having any tea at all -because he looked out of the window and waved his hand to Steggles in -the playground. What made it worse for Forrest was that we opened one of -his pots of Bovril at that very tea, and of course he didn’t have any. -But Trelawny said it was good discipline, and wouldn’t let Mathers -divide his share with young Forrest, though he wanted to. - -The day dragged out. Nothing was done, and no letter was put on the -string. Then night came and moonlight, and Trelawny set watches at each -window and door with directions to wake him instantly if anything -happened or anybody assembled outside below. But he didn’t sleep really. -In fact, only a few of the kids did. Bradwell got a bit down in the -mouth after dark, and I heard him say to Trelawny it wasn’t turning out -like he thought, and Trelawny said: - -“It’s always the same when a position is impregnable. I could show you a -dozen similar sieges in history. Of course, it’s the most uninteresting -sort of siege when chaps simply sit and see the enemy get to the end of -their food supplies, but they won’t do that with us. The day boys will -talk, and old Dunston will raise heaven and earth to keep it out of the -printed papers. I bet he’ll tie something to the string to-morrow.” - -Some of us tried to take a bright view like Trelawny, but when we heard -him tell Bradwell to run no risks and serve out as little bread as -possible, we felt that he did not really feel as hopeful of a short -siege as he seemed. Just before dusk Corkey minimus was caught in the -act of flinging a letter out of the window addressed to his mother. It -was torn up, and he was cautioned. That ended the day, and nothing else -happened until a quarter to one o’clock. Then Bradwell, whose watch it -was, called “Cave!” and came to Trelawny with frightful excitement to -say that there was the head of a ladder at his window, and a man -climbing up. Trelawny was there in a second, and asked in a loud voice -what the man wanted, and said he’d throw the ladder down if the man came -up another rung. But the man said: - -“Hush! you silly fellow; I’m a friend with news from the enemy. The -least you can do is to ’ear what I’ve got to say.” - -“Good Lord!” said Trelawny, “it’s Thompson!” - -And so it was, and his huge head soon got level with the window, and -looked like a bull’s against the moonlight. Trelawny made everybody get -out of earshot except Bradwell; but he didn’t happen to see me, being -rolled up in bed near the window, so I heard. - -First Thompson said: - -“Look ’ere, you Cornish boy, I’m sorry to find we ’aven’t ’it it off by -any means, and you want me to go, and you’ve locked yourself and friends -up ’ere as a protest. Now, ’ow ’ave I ’urt your feelings, and what have -I done?” - -Which was a bit difficult for Trelawny; but he fell back on the -manifesto to the Doctor. - -“It’s no personal matter, sir. We wish it to be understood that the -action is abstract.” - -“Oh. Well, I can’t say I know what the devil you mean by that; but I -like you all better than ever, and I understand this much, that you -don’t like me. I’m not proud. I’m quite as ready to learn as to teach. -Tell me what makes you do this, you queer things.” - -“We don’t think you are the right man for Dunston’s, sir,” said -Trelawny, firmly. - -“Well, but isn’t Doctor Dunston the best judge? His experience reaches -back rather farther than yours. Anyway, I’m not going. You’ll ’ave to -tolerate me. You’ll ’ave to like me too. I’ve disobeyed all orders by -climbing up ’ere now to advise you to give in to-morrow. Take my advice, -and come out at the first bell, and with ropes round your necks. -Measures are in ’and; and as your protest has utterly failed, the sooner -you give in and take your punishment the better. I’ve done my best to -make it as light as I can; but boys mustn’t do this sort of thing in big -schools, you know. It’s very naughty indeed.” - -“We shall keep up the protest for another day at least, sir,” said -Trelawny, with a lot of side in his voice. - -“No, my lad, you won’t,” answered Thompson. “The Doctor has taken my -advice, and by very simple means, with the least possible waste of time, -trouble, and money, we shall enter your stronghold to-morrow. I am quite -good-tempered to-day. To-morrow I shall probably be quite cross and ’ot. -The matter is in my ’ands. Do be good boys and yield while there is -time. The sooner the better.” - -“I regret we cannot comply with your terms, sir,” said Trelawny. - -“I’m not offering any,” answered Mr. Thompson. “I only want to make your -foolishness fall as light as possible. Your mothers’ and fathers’ ’earts -will ache over this headstrong business.” - -“The parley is ended,” said Trelawney. - -“All right,” said Mr. Thompson, “I’m afraid you’re a hawful little prig, -Trelawny.” Then he went down the ladder, and looking out, Bradwell -reported that he saw him taking it back to the gardener’s shed in the -shrubbery. - - - III - -There is not much more to be said about the protest of the Wing -Dormitory. I suppose Thompson was better up in tactics really than -Trelawny. Anyway, he found a weak spot that Trelawny never thought of, -and he ended the siege by half-past seven the following morning. - -About six Ashby major, whose watch it was, reported that the school -fire-escape was coming round the corner. With it appeared Mr. Thompson, -Mr. Mannering, who is an Oxford “Blue” and not much smaller than Mr. -Thompson, the Doctor, the gardener, and the military agent who drills -our volunteer corps and teaches gymnastics. They put the escape against -the wall of the Wing Dormitory, between two windows, where it couldn’t -be reached by us. Then Thompson and Mannering went up, and the sergeant -and gardener followed. The Doctor waited at the foot of the ladder. - -“They’ll get through the roof!” said Trelawny; “I never thought of -that!” - -Trelawny turned awfully rum in the face, and tried to think out a way of -repelling a roof attack; but there wasn’t time. In about ten minutes or -so the end of an iron bar came through the ceiling; then followed a -regular avalanche of plaster and dust, that fell on Watson minor and -jolly nearly smothered him. Then came Thompson, Mannering followed, and -the gardener and the sergeant dropped after them as quick as lightning. -Of course, we were done, because only half of us were fighters, the rest -being kids; and Trelawny himself being just fifteen and Bradwell -fourteen and Ashby major twelve and a half, and I only eleven and a -half, it was no good. - -“We surrender,” said Trelawny. - -“Surrender, you little brute, I should think you did yield!” said -Mannering, who had cut his hand getting the slates off the roof, and was -in a rare bate. - -“You needn’t insult a defeated force, sir,” said Trelawny, keeping his -nerve jolly well. “We are prepared to pay the penalty of failure, and -having meant well we--we don’t care.” - -But whether we meant well or not, I know Trelawney and Bradwell both got -expelled, though Thompson was said to have tried very hard for them. -Dunston didn’t seem to realize what frightfully good motives prompted -them to protest against Thompson in an abstract way. Nothing was done to -anybody else except Ashby major and me and Wilson. We were flogged by -Mr. Mannering for the Doctor; and he did it as you might expect from a -“Blue.” - -As for Thompson, he stayed on, and the protest never got into print; and -there wasn’t much disgrace for Trelawny or Bradwell after all, because -the first afterwards got into Woolwich ten from the top, through an army -crammer’s, and the second joined his father, who was the Whiteley of the -North I spoke of. He wrote to me only a week ago to say that he was -getting a hundred pounds a year from his governor for doing much less -than he had to do at Dunston’s. Mind you, Thompson is a jolly good sort, -really, and we know it now; and, as I heard my uncle say of somebody -else, I don’t suppose it’s a matter of life and death whether or no a -chap puts his h’s in the wrong places if his heart’s in the right one. - - - - - “Freckles” and “Frenchy” - - -He was the most peculiar chap that ever came to Merivale, not excepting -even Mason, who shot the Doctor’s wife’s parrot with a catapult, and, -after he had been flogged, offered to stuff it in the face of the whole -school, and nearly got expelled. Freckles was so called owing to his -skin, which was simply a complicated pattern much like what you can see -in any map of the Grecian Archipelago. This arose, he thought, from his -having been born in Australia. Anyway, it was rum to see; and so were -his hands, which had reddish down on the backs. His eyes were, also -reddish--a sort of mixture of red and gray specks, and they glimmered -like a cat’s when he was angry, which was often. His real name was -Maine, and he had no side. His father had made a big fortune selling -wool at Sydney, and his grandfather was one of the last people to be -transported to Botany Bay through no fault of his own. After he had been -on a convict ship five years a chap at home confessed on his death-bed -that he had done the thing Maine’s grandfather was transported for. So -they naturally let Maine’s grandfather go free; and he was so much -annoyed about it that he never came back home again, but married a -farmer’s daughter near Sydney and settled out there for good. - -Maine didn’t think great things of England, and was always talking about -the Australian forests of blue gum-trees and bush, and sneering rather -at the size of our forests round Merivale, though they were good ones. -He never joined in games, but roamed away alone for miles and miles into -the country on half-holidays, and trespassed with a cheek I never saw -equalled. He could run like a hare--especially about half a mile or so, -which, as he explained to me, is just about a distance to blow a keeper. -Certainly, though often chased, he was never caught and never -recognized, owing to things he did which he had learned in Australia and -copied from famous bushrangers. His great hope some day was to be a -bushranger himself, and he practised in a quiet way every Saturday -afternoon, making it a rule to go out of bounds always. His get-up was -fine. My name is Tomkins, called “Nubby” because I happen to have a -rather large sort of nose, and, being fond of the country and not keen -on games, Maine rather took to me, and after I had sworn on crossed -knives not to say a word to a soul (which I never did till Freckles -left) he told me his secrets and showed me his things. If you’d seen -Freckles starting for an excursion you wouldn’t have said there was -anything remarkable about him; but really he was armed to the teeth, and -had everything a bushranger would be likely to want in a quiet place -like Merivale. Down his leg was the barrel of an air-gun, strong enough -to kill any small thing like a cat at twenty-five yards; the rest of the -gun was arranged inside the lining of his coat, and the slugs it fired -he carried loose in his trousers-pockets. Round his waist he had a -leather belt he got from a sailor for a pound. Inside the leather was -human skin, said to be flayed off a chap by cannibals somewhere, which -was a splendid thing to have for your own, if it was true; and in the -belt a place had been specially made for a knife. Freckles, of course, -had a knife in it--a “bowie” knife that made you cold to see. He never -used it, but kept it ready, and said if a keeper ever caught him he -possibly might have to. In addition to these things he carried in his -coat-pockets a little spirit-lamp and a collapsible tin pot and a bag of -tea. - -He said tea was the very life of men in the bush, and that often after a -hard escape, when he was out of danger, he would get away behind a -woodstack or under banks of a stream, or some such secret place, and -brew a cup and drink it, and feel the better for it. - -Lastly, Freckles had a flat lead mask with holes for the eyes and mouth, -which he always fitted on when trespassing. He said it was copied from -the helmet Ned Kelly, the King of the Bushrangers, used to wear, but it -was not bullet-proof, but only used for a disguise. We were in the same -dormitory, and one night, when all the chaps had gone to sleep, he -dressed up in these things and stood where some moonlight came in, and -certainly looked jolly. - -Once, as an awful favor--me being smaller than him, and not fast enough -to run away from a man--he let me come and see what he did when -bushranging on a half-holiday in winter. “I sha’n’t run my usual -frightful risks with you,” he said, “because I might have to open fire -to save you, and that would be very disagreeable to me; but we’ll -trespass a bit, and I’ll shoot a few things, if I can. I don’t shoot -much, only for food.” - -He made me a mask with tinfoil off chocolate smoothed out and gummed on -cardboard; but I had no weapons, and he said I had better not try and -get any. - -We started for the usual walk. Chaps were allowed to go through a public -pine-wood to Merivale; but half through, by a place where was a board -which warned us to keep the path, Freckles branched off into some dead -bracken, and squatted down and put on his mask. I also put on mine. Then -he fastened his air-gun together and loaded it, and told me to walk six -paces behind him and do as he did. His eyes were awfully keen, and now -and then he pointed to a feather on the ground, or an old nest or a -patch of rum fungus or a crab-apple still hanging on the tree, though -all the leaves were off. - -Once he fired at a jay and missed it, then fell down in the fern as if -he was shot himself, and remained quite motionless for some time. He -told me that he always did so after firing, that he might hear if -anybody had been attracted by the sound. It was a well-known bushman’s -dodge. Once we saw a keeper through a clearing, and Freckles lay flat on -his stomach, and so did I. He knew the keeper well, and told me that he -had many times escaped from him. We waited half an hour, and turned to -go back a different way from that of the keeper. - -Then, where a glade sloped down to some water and the grass was all dewy -and covered with mole-hills, Freckles went to inspect a trap he had set -a week before. He was collecting skins for a mole-skin waistcoat, but he -said skinning moles was one of the beastliest tasks a hunter ever had. -However, there was a mole caught, and he skinned it and wrapped up the -skin in leaves and put it in his hat. - -Then we had some real sport, for on the other side of the glade we saw -rabbits lopping about, and Freckles stalked them through the fern while -I waited motionless, and finally he shot a young one. I wanted to take -it back and get cook to do it for us, but he said I was a fool. - -“If you want any you must have it now. It’s about the time I take a -meal,” he said, “and that’s a part of my ranging and hunting you haven’t -seen yet.” - -He knew the country well, and said we were in one of the most carefully -preserved places anywhere about, which must have been true, for there -were an awful lot of pheasants calling in the glades. But Freckles got -down into a drain and showed me a hollow he had scooped out under a lot -of ivy where it fell over a bank. - -“This is one of my caves,” he said, “and here we can feed and drink in -safety; but you mustn’t talk or I sha’n’t be able to hear if anything is -stirring in the woods.” - -He took off his mask, set down his gun, and lighted his spirit-stove. - -“Skin the rabbit and cut off his hind-legs while I make tea,” he said. - -So I did, and he held them over the lamp till they were slightly cooked -outside, but not right through. He ate and drank with his ears straining -for every sound. Then he took the rest of the rabbit and removed all -traces of eating, and buried everything we had left. - -“If I didn’t,” he explained, “some keeper’s dog would find my lair, and -make a row and give it away, and the keepers would doubtless lie in wait -for me and catch me red-handed. You can’t be too careful, because every -man’s hand’s against you; which, of course, is the beauty of it.” - -We got back without anything happening, and I’ve hated the sight of -rabbit pretty well ever since, but Freckles said the juices of animals -are better for the human frame underdone. - -Well, that gives you an idea of Freckles, and the affair with Frenchy, -which I am going to tell you about, showed that he really was cut out -for bushranging. Frenchy, as we called him, was Monsieur Michel. He -didn’t belong entirely to Dunston’s, but lived in Merivale and came to -us three days a week, and went to a girl’s school the other three. He -was a rum, oldish chap, whose great peculiarities were to make puns in -English and to appeal to our honor about everything. - -He would slang a fellow horribly one day, and wave his arms and pretty -nearly jump out of his skin; and the next day he would bring up a -whacking pear for the fellow he’d slanged, or a new knife or something. -He pretty nearly cried sometimes, and he told us his nerves were -frightfully tricky, and often led him to be harsh when he didn’t mean -it. He couldn’t keep order or make chaps work if they didn’t choose; and -Steggles, who had an awfully cunning dodge of always rubbing him up the -wrong way, and then looking crushed and broken-hearted so as to get -things, which he did, said that Frenchy was like damp fireworks, because -you never knew exactly when he’d go off or how. - -One day, dashing out of class with a frightful yell, Freckles got sent -for, and went back and found Monsieur raving mad. It seemed that -Freckles had yelled too soon--before he was out of the class-room, in -fact, and Frenchy had got palpitation of the heart from it. He let into -Freckles properly then. He said he was his “_bête noire_” and “_un sot à -vingt-quatre carats_”--which means an eighteen-carat ass in English, but -twenty-four carats in French--and “one of the aborigines who ought to be -kept on a chain,” and many other such-like things. Freckles turned all -colors, and then white, with a sort of bluish tint to his lips. He -didn’t say a word, but looked at Frenchy with such a frightful -expression that I felt something would happen later. All that happened -at the time was that Freckles got the eighth book of Telemachus to write -out into French from English, and then correct by Fénelon, which was a -pretty big job if a chap had been fool enough to try and do it; and -Monsieur Michel went off to Merivale with a big card on his coat-tail -with “_Ici on parle Français_” written upon it in red pencil. This I had -managed to do myself while Frenchy was jawing Freckles. I told Freckles, -but it didn’t comfort him much. He said there were some things no mortal -chap could stand; and to be called “an aborigine” because a man was born -in Australia seemed to him about the bitterest insult even an old -frog-eating Frenchman could have invented. Happening to _him_, of all -chaps, it was especially a thing which would have to be revenged, seeing -what his views were. He said: - -“I couldn’t bushrange or anything with a clear conscience in the future -if I had a thing like this hanging over me unrevenged. It’s the -frightfulest slur on my character, and I won’t sit down under it for -fifty Frenchmen.” - -Then he said he should take a week to settle what to do, and went into -the playground alone. - -Next time Frenchy came up he was just the same as ever--awfully -easy-going and jolly, and let Freckles off the Telemachus, and offered -him as classy a knife, with a corkscrew and other things, including -tweezers, as ever you saw--just the knife for Freckles, considering his -ways. But it didn’t come off. Freckles got white again when he saw the -knife, and said: - -“Thank you, Monsieur, I don’t want your knife; and the imposition is -half done, and will be finished next time you come.” - -Then Frenchy called him a silly boy, and tried to make a joke and pinch -Freckles by the ear. But nobody saw the joke, and Freckles dodged away. -Then Frenchy sighed, and looked round to see who should have the knife, -and didn’t seem to see anybody in particular, and left it on his desk. -He often sighed in class, and sometimes told us he was without friends, -unless he might call us friends; and we said he might. - -When he went, Freckles told me he considered the knife was another -insult. Then he explained what he was going to do. He said: - -“I shall finish the impot first, so as not to be obliged to him for -anything, and then I shall stick him up.” - -“Stick him up--how?” I said. - -“It’s a bushranging expression,” he explained. “To ‘stick up’ a man is -to make him stand and deliver what he’s got. I see my way to do this -with Frenchy. He always goes and comes from Merivale through the woods, -as you know, and now he’s up here on Friday nights coaching Slade and -Betterton for their army exam. Afterwards he has supper with Mr. -Thompson or the Doctor. There you are. I wait my time in the wood, which -is jolly lonely by night, though it is such a potty little place hardly -worth calling a wood; then he comes along, and I stick him up.” - -“It’s highway robbery,” I said. “You might get years and years of -imprisonment.” - -“I might,” he said, “but I sha’n’t. You must begin your career some -time, and I’m going to next Friday night. I’ve often got out of the -dormitory and been in that wood by night, and only the chaps in the -dormitory have known it.” - -Well, the night came, and all that we heard about it till afterwards was -that about eleven o’clock, or possibly even later than that, there was a -fearful pealing at the front door of Dunston’s, and looking out we could -see a stretcher and something on it. That something was actually -Freckles, though the few chaps who knew what was going to be done felt -sure it must be Frenchy; because Freckles is five feet ten and growing, -and Frenchy isn’t more than five feet six at the outside, and a poor -thing at that. - -But it _was_ Freckles all right, and two laboring men had brought him -back, and Frenchy had come with them. - -Not until five weeks afterwards, when Freckles could get up and limp -about, did I hear the truth; and I’ll tell it in his own words, because -they must be better than a chap’s who wasn’t there. He seemed -frightfully down in the mouth, and said that he could never look fellows -in the eyes again; but it cheered him telling me, and when I told him he -was thundering well out of it he admitted he was. He said: - -"I got off all right, and the moon was as clear as day, and everything -just ripe for sticking a chap up. Then, like a fool, having a longish -time to wait, I didn’t simply stop in shadow behind a tree-trunk or -something in the usual way, but thought I’d do a thing I’d never heard -of bushrangers doing, though Indian thugs are pretty good at it. I went -and got up a tree which has a branch over the road, and I thought I’d -drop down almost on top of Frenchy to start with. And that’s just what I -did do, only I dropped wrong, and came down pretty nearly on my head -owing to slipping somehow at the start. What did exactly happen to me as -I left the tree I never shall know. Anyway, Frenchy came along sure -enough, and I dropped, and he jumped I should think fully a yard in the -air; but that was all, because in falling I hit a big root (it was a -beech-tree), and went and broke something in my ankle and something in -my chest and couldn’t stand. Consequently, of course, I couldn’t stick -him up. The pain was pretty fair, but feeling what a fool I was seemed -to make me forget it. Anyway, finding it was useless to think of -sticking him up, I tried to hobble into the fern and get out of sight; -and finding I couldn’t crawl, I rolled. But of course you can’t roll -away from a chap, and he came after me, and my mask fell off while I -rolled, and he recognized me. - -"‘_Mon Dieu!_ it is the boy Maine!’ he said. ‘Speak, child, what in the -wide world was this?’ - -"I disguised my voice and said I wasn’t Maine, and that he’d better -leave me alone or it might be the worse for him yet. But he wouldn’t go, -and, chancing to get queer about the head somehow I went off, I suppose, -though it wasn’t for long. When I came to he was gone, but he rushed -back in a minute with that rotten old top-hat he wears full of water -he’d got from the puddle in the stone-pit. He doused my head and made me -sit up with my back against a tree. Then, feeling the frightfulness of -it, I begged him to clear out and let me alone. I said: - -"‘You don’t know what you’re doing. I’m no friend to you, but the -deadliest enemy you’ve got in the world, and if I hadn’t fallen down at -a critical moment and broken myself I should have stuck you up, Monsieur -Michel. So, now, you know.’ - -"He said to himself, ‘The poor mad boy--the poor mad boy--I will run _à -toutes jambes_ for succor’; but I told him not to. I began to get a rum -hot pain in my side then, but I felt I would gladly have died there -rather than be obliged to him. I said: - -"‘You called me an “aborigine,” which is the most terrible thing you can -call an Australian-born chap, and you wanted to pass it off with a knife -with a corkscrew and tweezers in it. But you couldn’t expect me to take -it, feeling as I did. Now the fortunes of war have given you the -victory, and, if you please, I wish you’d go.’ - -“But he refused. He said he wouldn’t have hurt my feelings for anything. -He seemed to overlook altogether what I was going to do to him, and -asked me where it hurt me. I told him, and he said it was his -fault--fancy that! and wished he was big enough to carry me back. I kept -on asking him to go, and at last, after begging my pardon like anything, -for about a week it seemed, he went. But I heard him shouting and -yelling French yells in the woods, and after a bit he came back with two -men and a hurdle. They presently took me back, and what Frenchy’s said -since to the Doctor I don’t know. In fact, I didn’t know anything for -days. Anyway, I’ve had nothing but a mild rowing and very good grub, and -I’m not to be even flogged, though that’s probably because I broke a rib -or two, not including the bone in my leg. But I’m all right now, and I -think it was about the most sporting thing a chap ever did for Frenchy -to treat me like that--eh? I shouldn’t have thought it was in a -Frenchman to do it, especially after I told him what I was going to do.” - -“Yes,” I said, “that’s all right, but what about bushranging?” - -“It’s pretty sickening,” he said, “but I feel as if all the keenness was -knocked out of me. If a chap can’t so much as fall out of a tree on a -wanderer’s path at the nick of time without smashing himself, what’s the -good of him?” - -“Besides,” I said, “if it hadn’t been Frenchy, but somebody else of a -different turn of mind, he might have taken you at a disadvantage and -jolly well killed you.” - -“In real bushranging that is what would have happened,” admitted -Freckles. “As it is, I expect months, perhaps years, will have to go by -before I feel to hanker after it again. And meantime I sha’n’t rest in -peace till I’ve paid Frenchy.” - -“How?” I asked. - -“Well, I believe it’s to be done. He’s often come to see me while I was -on my back in bed, and he’s told me a lot about himself. He’s -frightfully hard up, and a Roman Catholic, and hopes to lay his bones in -_la belle_ France with luck, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to -manage it. He told me all this, little knowing my father was extremely -rich. Well, you see, the mater wants somebody French for the kids at -home, which are girls, and, knowing Frenchy bars this climate, I think -Australia might do him good. He’s fifty-three years old, and it seems to -me if the guv’nor wrote and offered him his passage and a good screw -he’d go. I have made it a personal thing to myself, and told the guv’nor -what a good little chap he is, and what a beautiful accent he’s got, and -the thing that happened in the wood.” - -The affair dropped then, and about six weeks after, when Freckles was -getting fit again, he walked with me one half-holiday to see the place -where he was smashed up. The bough was a frightful high one to drop from -even in daylight, also it was broken. Freckles got awfully excited when -he spotted it. - -“There! there!” he said, “that’s the best thing I’ve seen for twelve -weeks!” - -“I don’t see much to squeak about,” I said, “especially as the beastly -tree nearly did for you.” - -“But can’t you see it’s broken? That’s what did it! I thought I slipped, -and if I had I shouldn’t have been made of the stuff for a bushranger; -but the wretched branch broke, and that is jolly different. That wasn’t -my fault. The most hardened old hand must have come down then. In fact, -he couldn’t have stopped up. Oh, what a lot of misery I’d have been -saved through all these weeks if I’d known it broke in a natural sort of -way!” - -He got an awful deal of comfort out of this, and said he should return -to his old ways again as soon as he could run a mile without stopping. -And we found his lead mask, like Ned Kelly’s, just where it had dropped -when he had rolled over in the fern, and he welcomed it like a dog. - -That’s the end, except that his father did write to Dunston about -Frenchy; and Dunston, not being very keen about Frenchy himself, seemed -to think he would be just the chap for the girls of Freckles’s father. -Anyway, he went, and he cried when he said good-bye to the school; and -Freckles told me that when he said good-bye to him he yelled with -crying, and blessed him both in French and English, and said that the -sunny atmosphere of Australia would very likely prolong his life until -he had saved enough to get his bones back to France. - -So he went, and Freckles went after him much sooner than he ever -expected to, because the keepers finally caught him in the game -preserves, sitting in his hole under the stream bank, frizzling the leg -of a pheasant which he had shot out of a tree with his air-gun and -buried seven days before. And Dunston wrote to his father, and his -father wrote back that Freckles, being now fourteen and apparently -having less sense than when he left Australia, had better return to his -native land, and go into the wool business, and begin life as an -office-boy in his place of business. Freckles told me that chaps in his -father’s office generally got a fortnight’s holiday, but that his mother -would probably work up his governor to give him three weeks. Then he -would get a proper outfit and track away to the boundless scrub, and -fall in with other chaps who had similar ideas, and begin to take life -seriously. He said I might see his name in Australian papers in about a -year. But he never wrote to me, and I don’t know if he really succeeded -well. I’m sure I hope he did, for he was a tidy chap, though queer. - - - - - Concerning Corkey Minimus - - - I - -If Corkey minor had been at school that term the thing would never have -come about; but Corkey minor was always one of the lucky chaps, and just -when, in the ordinary course of events, he would have had to begin -fagging for an exam., something happened to his right lung, and he had -to go on an awful fine trip to Australia in a sailing ship. That left -Corkey major, who was a mere learning machine in the Sixth, and Corkey -minimus, who was ten, and in the Lower Fourth. - -It began like this. After Bray had licked Derbyshire and Bethune, which -he did one after the other on the same half-holiday, chaps gave him -“best,” as a matter of course, and he became cock of the lower school. -He was solid muscle all through, and harder than stone, and he had a -brother in London who was runner-up in the amateur “light-weight” -championship two years following. Bray fancied himself a bit, naturally, -and was always roaming about seeking fellows to punch. But once, out of -bounds in a private wood, a keeper caught him and licked him, which was -seen by two other fellows, and remembered against Bray afterwards when -he put on too much side. - -He and Corkey minimus were in the same class, because Bray, though -thirteen, didn’t know much. At first they were great chums, and Bray -bossed Corkey and palled with him; and when Browne, the under -mathematical master, told Corkey minimus that he was “the least of all -the Corkeys, and not worthy to be called a Corkey,” because he couldn’t -do rule-of-three, or some rot, Bray said a thing that Browne overheard, -and got sent up. But by degrees the friendship of Bray and Corkey -minimus cooled off, and the matter of Milly settled it. - -The Doctor had four daughters, and Milly was the youngest. Mabel and -Ethel held no dealings with any fellows under the Sixth, and Mary had -something wrong with her spine and didn’t count. But I never cared for -any of them myself, because you couldn’t tell what they meant. Beatrice, -for instance, was absolutely engaged to Morris, for he told his sister -so in the holidays, and his sister told Morris minor, and he told me the -next term. Morris was the head of the school, and he had her photograph -fixed into a foreign nut which he wore on his watch-chain. But when he -left, and she found out he was gone into a bank at £80 a year, she -dropped him like a spider. Mind you, Morris had told her he was -descended, on his mother’s side, from a race of old Irish kings, which -may have unsettled her. Anyway, when she found he came, on his father’s -side, from a race of church curates, she wrote and said it was off. - -But there were other things that upset the chumming of Bray and Corkey -minimus before the Milly row, and they ought to be taken in turn. First, -there was the Old Testament prize, which was the only thing Bray had the -ghost of a chance of getting. But Corkey beat him by twenty-three marks; -and Bray said afterwards that Corkey had cribbed a lot of stuff about -Joshua, and Corkey said he hadn’t, and even declared he knew as much -about Joshua as Bray, and a bit over. Then, on top of that, came the -match with neckties, which was rather a rum match in its way. Both of -them used to be awfully swagger about their neckties, and each fancied -his own. So one bet the other half a crown he would wear a different -necktie every day for a month. The month being June, that meant thirty -different neckties each, and the chap who wore the best neckties would -win. A fellow called Fowle was judge, being the son of an artist; and -neither Bray nor Corkey was allowed to buy a single new tie or add to -the stock he had in his box. At the end of a fortnight they stood about -equal, though Corkey’s ties were rather more artistic than Bray’s, which -were chiefly yellow and spotted. But then came an awful falling away, -and some of the affairs they wore were simply weird. The test for these -was if the tie passed in class. Then the terms of the match were -altered, and they decided to go on wearing different things till one or -other was stopped by a master. Any concern not noticed was considered a -necktie “in the ordinary acceptation of that term,” as Fowle put it. At -the end of the third week Corkey minimus came out in an umbrella cover -done in a sailor’s knot, but nobody worth mentioning spotted it; and the -next day Bray wore a bit of blue ribbon off a chocolate box, which also -passed. They struggled on this sort of way till Bray got bowled over. I -think Corkey was wearing a yard-measure dipped in red ink that morning, -but it looked rather swagger than not. Class was just ended, when old -Briggs, of all people--a man who wore two pairs of spectacles at one -time very often--said to Bray: - -“What is that round your neck, boy?” And Bray said: - -“My tie, sir.” - -Then Briggs said: - -“Is it, sir? Let me see it, please. I have noticed an increasing -disorder about your neck arrangements for a week past. You insult me and -you insult the class by appearing here in these ridiculous ties.” - -“It sha’n’t happen again, sir,” said Bray, trying to edge out of the -class-room. - -“No, Bray, it shall not,” said old Briggs. “Bring me that thing at once, -please.” - -Bray handed it up, and Briggs examined it as if it was a botanical -specimen or something. - -“This,” he announced, “is not a necktie at all. You’re wearing a piece -of Brussels carpet, wretched boy--a fragment of the new carpet laid down -yesterday in the Doctor’s study. You will kindly take it to him -immediately, say who sent you, and state the purpose to which you were -putting it.” - -So Bray, by the terms of the match, lost, and Corkey minimus won with -the yard measure. - -Then the feeling between them grew, especially after Bray said that he -could only pay his half-crown in instalments of a penny a week. - -Now we come to Milly. You see she was Corkey minor’s great pal the term -before, but now that he was at sea, and thousands of miles off, she -chucked him and turned to Corkey minimus. That shows what she was -really. Anyway, in a bad moment for young Corkey, she told him he had -eyes like an eagle’s, and it simply turned his head. As an eagle’s eyes -are yellow, I couldn’t see myself what there was to be so jolly pleased -about; but he was, and, to show you what a chap may come to if a girl -collars him, I know for a fact that Corkey minimus tried to paint a -picture for her. Whether he actually succeeded I cannot say, but he went -down four places in class, and got awfully dropped on by Browne. - -Then came that attempt of Bray to cut Corkey out, and, being myself a -tremendous personal chum of Corkey’s, I wished he had succeeded; but he -didn’t, and even his fighting didn’t take Milly. After a month of giving -her things to eat and so on, he said it was his red hair that stood -between them, and told Fowle he didn’t care a straw about her; but from -the way he went on to Corkey minimus, any fool could see he really cared -a lot. The chap called Fowle comes in here. This “obscene Fowle,” as we -called him out of Virgil, being really a term in a crib applied to -harpies, though he would have run if a mouse had squeaked at him, was -yet responsible for more fights than any fellow in the school. He -sneaked about, asking chaps if they gave one another “best,” and when at -last he found two who didn’t funk each other, though they might be -perfectly good friends, he never rested until there was a fight. He got -kicked sometimes, but not enough. That was owing to the fact that his -hampers from home were most extraordinary. They came on Roman feast -days, because he was a Roman Catholic by religion; and some fellows even -said the more you kicked Fowle the more you were likely to get from the -hampers. That was rot, of course, and a jolly suspicious thing happened -once. Newnes--a chap in the lower Fifth--kicked Fowle the very morning -before a hamper came; and that same evening, after prayers, Fowle gave -Newnes about half a whacking big melon, and the next day Newnes jolly -near died. Fowle swore he hadn’t put anything in the melon, but it is -bosh to say that half a melon, if it’s all right, is going to do a chap -any harm. Anyway, we rather funked Fowle’s hampers afterwards. - -Well, this wretched, obscene Fowle met me one day licking his fat lips -and showing great excitement. So I knew he’d probably worked up a fight; -but it wasn’t that, though something worse. He said: - -“Where’s Corkey minimus? Bray wants him.” - -“What for?” I said. I may mention that I am called McInnes. - -“As a matter of fact, he’s heard something, and he says, though he’s -sorry, he’s got to lick Corkey.” - -Fowle smacked his beastly mouth as if he’d got pine-apple drops in it. - -“What’s Corkey done?” I said. - -“It’s about Milly Dunston. Young Corkey talks jolly big with her, and -doesn’t even speak civil of his friends. By quite an accident I was -passing through the shrubbery from Browne’s house to the chapel -yesterday, and I went by the summer-house, which is out of bounds, and -couldn’t help overhearing Milly and Corkey minimus, who were there. And -Corkey distinctly said that Bray was as fiery as his hair, and that he -had no more control of himself than a burning mountain; and Milly -laughed.” - -“And you sneaked off and told Bray?” - -“As his chum I had to.” - -“Ah, then I shall tell Corkey what you heard, being his chum.” - -“I shouldn’t,” said Fowle. “It’s only making mischief. Besides, Bray -won’t take an apology now. He says he’s stood all that flesh and blood -can stand. Those were his very words. In fact, I’m looking for Corkey -minimus at this moment to tell him that Bray wants him up in the ‘gym.’” - -“To lick him?” - -Fowle smacked his lips again. - -“He’s brought it on himself.” - -“Well,” I said, “I’ll give the message. You can go back and tell Bray -you’ve told me.” - -“I’d rather have done it myself,” said Fowle, regretfully, as though he -was being robbed of tuck. - -“Well, you won’t,” I answered him, being pretty sick with the worm of a -chap by that time. “You go back and say that Corkey will turn up in ten -minutes.” - -Then he cleared out reluctantly, leaving this tremendous responsibility -entirely on my hands. - - - II - -I went off there and then for Corkey. It’s a bit of a jar for a chap to -get a message like that unexpectedly, and I didn’t know what advice to -give. Corkey major was no good. If I’d told him he would have blinked -through his goggles and have said some bosh--very likely in Latin. And -Corkey minor, being thousands of miles away, it looked blue, because you -can’t ask anybody but a chap’s own brothers to take up a matter like -this. I couldn’t lick Bray myself, or I would have. - -The next minute I met Corkey himself, and, from an awful rum look about -him, I thought for a moment he’d had the licking already. But he hadn’t, -and before I could speak he said: - -“McInnes, I’ve got to fight Bray.” - -“My dear chap, you couldn’t,” I began. - -“I know,” he answered, “but I’ve got to. Things have happened. Listen to -this. I’ve just left Milly, and she’s in a frightful bate. I shouldn’t -have thought a girl could have got in such a rage without hurting -herself. Bray told Fowle that there were as good fish in the sea as ever -came out of it--meaning Milly; and Fowle wrote it on a bit of paper and -dropped it where Milly was bound to see it. He didn’t put his name, but -she knows his writing. Now she’s pretty well mad, and says it’s a -disgrace that a thick-necked, speckly, stumpy chap like Bray should be -cock of the lower school. Well, I said, very likely it was, but I didn’t -see how it could be helped, him being such a fighter. Then she tossed -her hair about, and said, ‘I won’t have anything more to do with the -lower school at all while he’s cock of it.’ Of course, I didn’t think -she included me, being--well, her greatest pal alive since Corkey minor -went. So I said, ‘Quite right; I shouldn’t look at them.’ Then she -turned round rather suddenly and said _I_ was included. So I said, ‘I -should be only too glad to fight him if there was a ghost of a chance, -but there isn’t. It’s no good pretending. He’s four inches taller, and -miles more round the chest and round the arms, and ages older. In fact, -he could lick me with one hand tied behind him.’ Then she said, ‘The -days of chivalry are dead,’ which she’d got out of a book, of course; -and she added that she was tired of all boys, and that a chap with eyes -like mine ought to have more ‘devil’ in him. Yes, she used that word. I -said, ‘What do you want me to do?’ And she said, ‘Oh, nothing. I -wouldn’t have a hair of your head singed for the world; only I thought -that it might interest you more than other people to know I’d been -insulted. Of course, if it’s nothing to you--’ Then she stopped and -marched away, and I went after her and asked her to explain, and she -answered that the explanation ought to come from me. She said, ‘D’ you -ever read dragon stories?’ And I said, ‘Yes.’ Then she went on, ‘Well, -in all the ones I’ve read, if a lady asked anybody to kill a dragon, the -person didn’t say that the dragon could beat him with one paw tied -behind it, even though he thought so; but he jolly well went and did the -best he could.’ Naturally, after that I saw what she meant, and I said, -‘Oh, all right, Milly; of course, if you’ve been insulted, I must make -the beggar apologize--or try to.’ ‘Yes,’ she said, cheering up like -anything; ‘you are my own precious champion, and I love you.’ I tell you -all this because you’re my chum, and you’ll have to be my second. And if -I can even black his eye before he settles me, it will be something.” - -“Well, I call it a chouse,” I said. “She might as well have asked you to -fight Blanchard or Sims. Look at your arms, not to mention anything -else; they’re like cabbage-stalks.” - -“Yes, I know all that,” said Corkey minimus, “and it’ll be rather rotten -for her if he kills me. But the thing’s got to be done, and the sooner -it’s over the better.” - -Then I suddenly remembered Bray’s message, and told Corkey. He seemed -surprised. - -“He can’t lick me on the spot if I challenge him to fight in a regular -way, can he?” he asked, but rather doubtfully. - -I said it seemed to me he couldn’t. Then we went up to the “gym,” where -Bray was talking to about four chaps, including Fowle. - -“Oh, you’ve come, you kid, have you? You’d better not keep me waiting -another time when I send for you,” he began. “Now I’m going to lick you -for cheek.” - -“What cheek?” Corkey minimus said. - -“Fowle heard you say I was as fiery as my hair.” - -“Oh, Fowle, he hears a lot, I know.” - -“Did you say it or didn’t you?” - -“Yes, I did, and I say it again; and you’re a dirty bully too.” - -Bray came quite close to Corkey minimus, and put his face so near that -their noses were almost touching, like cats do when they’re going to -have a row on a wall. - -“Say that just once more if it isn’t troubling you too much,” said Bray. - -“I’ll say it as often as you like,” answered young Corkey, keeping his -eye on Bray’s, “and I’ll say another thing too, which is, that before -you talk so big about me being a ‘kid’ and licking me, you’d better find -out first if I give you ‘best.’” - -“Golly!” said Bray, grinning like mad, “don’t you?” - -“No, I don’t; and I’ll fight you properly with seconds the first minute -we can.” - -Corkey minimus had certainly come out of it fine so far, and I only -wished he could fight as well as he talked. Of course, from Bray’s point -of view, it was the best thing that could have happened, because now he -had a right to lick Corkey, and a right to lick him as badly as he -could. The bell rang a minute afterwards, and going in it was settled -the fight should come off next Wednesday, that being a half-holiday. -Part of Merivale Woods skirted the cricket-field, and as the second -eleven, to which Bray belonged, wasn’t playing a match, everything -suited very comfortably. Blanchard, the cock of the school, agreed to -umpire, and he and another chap in the Fifth very kindly promised to -carry young Corkey home by a secluded way if he was too much smashed to -walk. Fowle seconded Bray, and I saw Bray teaching him how to fan with a -towel and spurt water over a fellow’s face between the rounds. Of -course, it was about as good fun as killing rats with a stick for Bray. - - - III - -Corkey minimus saw Milly once or twice before the fight, and he said he -couldn’t make out whether she was going mad or what. One minute she -wanted him to fight, the next she implored him not to; one minute she -hoped he would mutilate Bray to pieces, the next she blubbed and prayed -him if ever he had any liking for her to give Bray “best.” She said she -kept dreaming of him brought back stark and stiff; and then, when he -began to think she meant it, she called him her “knight” and her “hero” -and her “King Arthur” and other frightful rot, and actually wanted him -to wear one of her Sunday gloves under his shirt at the time of -fighting! Corkey minimus said he very likely wouldn’t wear a shirt; and -then she thought he might hang it--I mean the glove--round his neck by a -bit of string! - -“Blessed if I shall ever feel quite the same to her after this,” said -Corkey. - -“It seems rather rough to get broken up for life to please a skimpy -girl,” I said. Then he burst out as red in the face as an apple, and -told me he would not hear a word against Milly, so I dried up. - -There were three days before the fight, and Corkey minimus trained for -it, and gave away his pudding at dinner in exchange for the meat of the -chaps who sat next to him. But you can’t get your muscle up in a day or -two like that, and it only made him awfully thirsty. - -The day came at last, and I may as well go on to the fight itself. The -First were having a big match on our own ground, so nobody paid any -attention to us, and we arranged a game that should have Corkey, Bray, -and me on the same side. Then, when our chaps were in, we three sneaked -away into the plantations, behind some holly-trees and a woodstack. Bray -arranged all the preliminaries as cheerful as a bird, and Blanchard said -they were right. They marked out a ring and ran a string round and -arranged corners for the seconds; and I saw that the obscene Fowle had -towels and bottles of water and a basin--all, of course, for Bray -between the rounds. Corkey minimus was rather waxy with me for not -bringing the same for him; but I’d brought a sponge, which I know is a -thing a second chucks up in the air when his man is done for; and I -explained and showed it to Corkey; and he thanked me and said he -supposed that was about the only thing he should want. Blanchard said -the rounds were to be two minutes long each, and Bray grumbled because -they ought by rights to be three. But Blanchard told him to shut up and -begin. When we saw Bray take his shirt off I told Corkey he ought to, -and he did. Then Blanchard laughed and said: - -“By gum! they peel rather different!” - -Bray was like a barrel, with muscles a lot bigger than hen’s eggs on his -arms. Corkey minimus seemed to be all ribs somehow, with arms about as -lean as rulers. I told him to keep moving about and try and puff Bray a -bit if he had time, and he said: - -“All right, I’ll try. If I can get a smack at his face, so as to black -an eye or something, and show I’ve hit him before he does for me, I -don’t care.” - -I will say for Corkey minimus that he had about the best pluck I ever -saw in a chap. He was quite calm, and just his usual color; and when -Bray tossed him for corners Corkey won; and Blanchard said I picked the -right corner for him. Then he told them to fight fair, and said “Time!” - -I’d prayed Corkey to try and surprise Bray at the very start if he -could, and have a hit at Bray’s face the moment they began. And I’m -blessed if he didn’t go and do it! Bray began fiddling about jolly -scientifically with his hands, and I fancy he just squinted down to see -if his feet were scientific too. At the same moment Corkey buzzed round -his right and let Bray have it fairly on the nose. Bray jumped and -looked about as much surprised as if he’d been struck by lightning; and -Blanchard said: - -“First blood for Corkey minimus!” - -I yelled--I oughtn’t to have, but I did--because to see blood dropping -about on Bray’s chest was a fine sight. He sniffed and went for Corkey -smiling. The smile was the beastliest part of it, for I hoped he would -have got his wool off a bit and been wild. But he wasn’t, and when he -began to hit, Corkey got flustered and swung about like a windmill and -caught it pretty hot. Yet he jerked his head so jolly quick that he -didn’t get more than about four smacks on it in the first round, though -his body, which was white by nature, was pretty soon covered with red -marks. He said they didn’t hurt, and I cleaned him up and blew water -over him at the end of the round. His lip was bleeding like mad, but -luckily inside, where his tooth had cut it; and he swallowed all the -blood, so nobody knew; besides which the blood wasn’t lost. Bray flung -himself down in his corner, and Fowle looked after him; and even at a -solemn time like that I laughed, and so did Corkey minimus, because -Fowle tried to be too clever, and spurted a lot of water out of his -mouth into Bray’s eye. Then Bray told him that after the fight he’d tie -him in knots and kick him, looking forward to which, of course, wrecked -Fowle’s enjoyment entirely. - -Blanchard said “Time!” again awfully soon, and I saw Bray meant settling -Corkey now, because his reputation as a fighter was at stake, and he -knew Corkey hoped to get through three rounds with luck. So Bray began -hitting him like hammers, and though I was about as sorry for Corkey -minimus as a chap could be, nobody would have been able to help admiring -the way Bray hit. It was just at the end of this round, when Corkey had -been knocked down once, but got up again, that the awful rum thing with -Milly Dunston happened. - -Suddenly, without any warning, there was a noise like fowls getting up a -hedge, and she rushed out from behind the woodstack with her eyes -blazing and her hair streaming like a comet in a bate. She’d been -running a good way, I should think, and she tore right into the ring -straight at Bray, and not trusting to words at a time like that, and not -remembering her father was a clergyman, or anything, slapped his face -both sides, and jolly hard too. Bray swore the horriblest words I ever -heard used by a chap, because she’d given him more in half a second than -Corkey could have in a year. Then he got into his shirt upside-down and -hooked it with Fowle, but not before he heard her say: - -“You little, fat, red-headed coward to fight and try and murder a boy -half your age and size! I wish I could kill you, I do. It’s shameful to -think you’re an English boy at all!” - -Then she turned on the chaps from the Fifth, and told Blanchard he was a -disgrace to the school. So they cleared out too; and then she cried over -Corkey, and said she would rather have been torn to pieces by unchained -monsters than have let him be mangled like he was. And Corkey, who was -pretty well dazed, forgave her, and told her kindly to go away. And she -gasped and gurgled, and went. - -I took Corkey back, and one or two things got to be known. It came out -that Fowle had told Milly the place and the hour of the fight, but only -after she had sworn--on some rotten saint Fowle knew--that she would not -tell a single soul about it. She kept her swear all right, but came -herself. And when Bray got to hear how it was she came--of course, -thinking Corkey had told her, which he would rather have died than -do--then Bray tried a lot of Chinese tortures on Fowle that he’d seen at -a wax-works. And chaps who saw it said that Fowle was so excited at the -time that he called upon about twenty different well-known Bible -characters by name to come and help him and destroy Bray. But they -didn’t. - -As for Corkey minimus, the things he got from Milly after that fight you -wouldn’t believe. There were bottles of stuff to rub bruises with, and -lozenges and grapes, and some muck for his eye, and little baskets of -strawberries, and jolly books and rosebuds. She told the Doctor about -slapping Bray’s face, and wrote a long letter of apology afterwards; and -a week later she broke it to Corkey minimus that she was going to a -boarding-school herself next term; which she did. - -When Corkey told me about it he added: - -“And she’s going to write me letters, because she’s said several times -that there’s only one chap in the world for her now, and I’m the chap.” - -“I shouldn’t think she could change her mind after all that’s happened,” -I said. - -And Corkey minimus said: - -“I bet she will when Corkey minor turns up again, especially if he -brings rum things with him from Australia. And you needn’t repeat it, -but to you, McInnes, as my chum, I say that I don’t care how soon he -does come back either.” - -Which showed that there was more sense in Corkey minimus than you might -have thought. - - - - - The Piebald Rat - - -It was all the result of old Briggs asking the Doctor if he might -“instil the lads with a wholesome fondness for natural history.” That’s -how he put it, because I heard him; and the Doctor said it was an -admirable notion, and would very probably keep some boys out of mischief -on half-holidays. It also kept some boys out of bounds on half-holidays; -and after a time I think the Doctor was pretty savage with old Briggs, -and wished he’d stuck to his regular work, which was writing and drawing -and such like; because, when one or two of the chaps really got keen -about natural history, and even chucked cricket for butterflies and -beetles, others, who didn’t care a straw about it, pretended they did to -gain their own ends. And it was these chaps, if you understand, who -finally made the Doctor so sick with natural history generally and old -Briggs for starting it. - -My chum, West, began the rage for study of “our humble relations,” as -old Briggs called everything down to wood-lice. He let it be generally -known that he had two live lizards in his desk; and, this being the best -thing that West had ever thought of, the idea caught on well. I had a -dormouse myself, my name being Ashby minor, and Ashby major kept a -spider pretty nearly as big as a young bird, which he had poked out of a -hole in the playground wall. He caged it in a tin match-box, and fed it -with blue-bottles and wasps. At least, he got blue-bottles and wasps for -it, but the fool wouldn’t eat them; and after a week he found it with -its legs all tucked up as neatly as anything. Only it was dead. I -thought the match-box must have been too tight a fit for it, but Ashby -major did not. He believed there was something about a tin match-box -which must be rather poisonous for out-door spiders. - -Then chaps went on collecting till it got to be swagger to keep big live -things in your desk; and the bigger the thing the more swagger it was. - -Maine, generally known as Freckles, had a couple of guinea-pigs in his -desk for a week. Then Mannering, the classical master in the Fifth, who -must have had a nose like a gimlet, smelt them at prayers, happening to -come in late and kneeling down by Freckles at the time. The Doctor -didn’t make much fuss then, because that was just at the beginning of -the business; only he said a desk was not the place for guinea-pigs, and -added that a chap in Freckles’s position in the school ought to have -known it. He let the gardener look after them from that time forward. -But Freckles naturally lost all interest in them after the gardener had -them; because a guinea-pig merely _as_ a guinea-pig is nothing. Anyhow, -it was rough on him to be landed over it, because, as a matter of fact, -guinea-pigs have no scent worth mentioning, and nobody but Mannering -would have spotted them. After that Gideon and Brookes caught a -blind-worm one foot two inches long; and Gideon sold his half for -fivepence, so Brookes got it all. Nobody knew what a blind-worm likes to -eat, unfortunately, and it died, but not for a fortnight. Then there was -another scene with my dormouse, which led to tremendous things. There’s -a hole in a desk where the ink-pot goes in, and one day my mouse got out -through it, having climbed up two dictionaries and a Greek Testament to -do so. It happened old Briggs himself was taking the Lower Fourth, which -is my class, and I hoped it would be all right. But he didn’t seem -friendly over it, and I noticed, when he told us to find the mouse, he -put his feet upon the rungs of his chair. It’s a rum thing about old -Briggs that he doesn’t care much for natural history objects while -they’re alive; he likes them dead and dried, or stuffed and pinned on -cards, or in glass cases all labelled and neat. My dormouse gave us a -jolly good hunt round, then it finally tripped over a lead-pencil and -got its tail and hind legs into West’s ink. So we caught it, and I was -drying it with a piece of blotting-paper, and old Briggs was just -telling us that dormice belong to a genus of rodents called Myoxus, and -are allied to mice, though they have a squirrel’s habits, which he -seemed to think was a pity, when Dunston came in. The Doctor asked -particulars, looked as if he could have jolly well killed my mouse, -which was shivering rather badly owing to the ink on its hinder parts, -and said once for all that he would allow no animals of any kind inside -any of the desks or in school. - -Then, unluckily, as an afterthought, he demanded a clearance on the -spot; and he was pretty well staggered to find the result. - -“I will ask you, Ferrars, as head boy of the class, and one, I am happy -to think, above any of this childish folly, to inspect the desks, one by -one, and report to me where you find indications of life,” said the -Doctor. - -Ferrars is always right with the Doctor, chiefly because he has a face -like a stone angel in church, and a very smooth voice, and a remarkably -swagger knowledge of the Scriptures. He is also a tremendous worker, and -will go into the Upper Fourth next term as sure as eggs. It was jolly -awkward for Ferrars then, because he happened to be one of the keenest -natural history chaps of all, and had a piebald rat, which even fellows -in the Sixth had offered him half-a-crown and three shillings for, yet -he would not part with it. So, though we didn’t like him much, we felt -almost sorry for the fix he was in now. Of course, we thought that such -a demon on Religious Knowledge as Ferrars would drag out his piebald rat -right away, and perhaps even give it to the Doctor, or offer to sell it -for the alms-box; but he didn’t. He got up, rather white about the -gills, and opened the desks one by one; and a jolly happy family it was. -Only the Doctor scattered the things to the four winds, till there -wasn’t an atom of natural history left in the whole class-room except -Ferrars’s piebald rat, snug in his desk. - -First Fowle, who goes in for water things, had to empty his jam-jar of -tadpoles out into the playground, which was a beastly cruel thing to -make him do, because they all died, still being in the gill stage; then -Freckles was sent off with a young rabbit to the hay-field, and he got -caned too, because, strangely enough, the Doctor hadn’t forgotten his -guinea-pigs; and Morrant’s two sparrows were let go, which was no -kindness to them, because Morrant had cut their wings so jolly short it -would have taken them months to grow enough feathers to fly with, and -meantime a cat got them both; and Playfair’s mole, which, by-the-way, -had been queer for some time, owing to having no earth to burrow in, was -ordered to be sent to the cricket-field. There were a lot of other -things, but Corkey minimus scored rather, because his goat-sucker moth -laid a hundred and fourteen eggs on Todhunter’s algebra a few hours -before it was let free. Corkey minimus says a goat-sucker moth’s nothing -worth mentioning after it’s laid eggs, but the eggs turn into fine -caterpillars. - -The few things the Doctor didn’t know what to do with, and didn’t like -to have killed, he said must be given to the gardener. He thought it -would be better to put my mouse out of its misery, and turned it over on -my hand with a gold pencil-case, and said it had probably got a chill to -its vital organs and would die; but old Briggs explained that it might -live if put in cotton-wool; so the gardener looked to it, and it did -live, and I took it home at the end of that term, and have it still, -though it is getting oldish now, and has lost half its tail. But it’s a -good mouse yet. - -Of course the extraordinary thing was Ferrars. After the Doctor had -gone, old Briggs, to whom he had whispered something before he went, -gave out that his natural history half-hours would be suspended for the -rest of the term; then I got a word with Ferrars. I said: - -“However did you have the cheek--you supposed to be such a saint?” - -He said: - -“I don’t know. Something came over me to do it. I’ve got a jolly -peculiar feeling to that rat. It’s not an ordinary rat. I’m wrapped up -in it. Even my respect for the Doctor couldn’t stand against it. I know -what you chaps think. I dare say you reckon I’m a hound, but I couldn’t -help doing what I did. Somehow that rat’s a sort of ‘mascotte’ to me. A -mascotte’s a thing that brings luck. All my best luck’s happened since I -had it.” - -Of course, when a chap goes on like that, what can you do? I didn’t -understand Ferrars. He seemed to me to be simply talking rot. So I said: - -“Well, it’s pretty measly, considering the opinion the Doctor’s got of -you. I sha’n’t try to score off your rat, because I know it’s a jolly -fine one, and I like it; but Freckles or somebody will very likely kill -it after this.” - -He looked in a fair funk when the dreadful thought of having his rat -killed came to him. Before the end of that day he spoke to every chap in -the class separately, and all but three promised and swore not to lay a -finger on the rat. But Freckles, Murdoch, and Morrant wouldn’t swear. -Finally he paid Morrant sixpence and so got him over, and Murdoch he let -crib off him in “prep.” three times; and Freckles, who was an awfully -sportsmanlike chap really, said he was only rotting all the time, and -would be the last to do a classy rat like Ferrars’s any harm. In fact, -he said he’d much sooner kill Ferrars himself. - -Mind you, though, of course, it was simply barbarous for Ferrars to -think that his piebald rat could have any effect on his work, yet he -proved to me that his success in school and his great popularity with -the Doctor dated from the coming of the thing. When he first got it, it -was a mere cub-rat, so to say; now, though not a year old, it had turned -into as fine a rat as you could wish to meet anywhere. In appearance it -had pink eyes and a white head, and a fairish amount of white fur about -the body, which got thinner on its stomach, so that you could see the -pink skin through to some extent. But the piebaldness of the rat was the -great feature. It had two big round patches of fur like the common or -garden rat, and one small patch at the nape of its neck; and in addition -to this it had one large patch of beautiful yellowish fur, such as you -chiefly see on guinea-pigs. Its tail was pink and long, and quite -hairless. - -Ferrars often kept back good things at meals for it, and the bond -between them seemed to grow rummer and rummer, till he let the rat get -on his mind, and Wilson said he was getting dotty about it. Which I -think was true, for one day, going into the class-room to get a knife -from my desk, I saw Ferrars with his rat out, talking to it. He was -swatting like anything in play-hours for a special Old Testament history -prize, and he had the rat and the Bible and various books of reference -all before him. Then, not knowing I was there, he spoke: - -“I must win it, ‘Mayne Reid.’ Stick to me this time, old chap, and see -me through.” - -He called his rat “Mayne Reid” because that was his favorite author. - -And “Mayne Reid” seemed to understand, and he turned his pink eyes on to -the open Bible and walked over it. Finding he’d walked over the ninth -chapter of the Second Book of Kings, Ferrars got excited, and, seeing -me, said, “By Jove! then I’ll learn that chapter by heart, though it is -so long. It’s good, exciting stuff, anyway, and I bet my rat walking -over it means that there’ll be a question about Jehu and Jezebel.” - -“You’ll go cracked about that rat,” I said. - -“It’s part of my life,” he answered. “I know it seems very peculiar, and -so it is, and I don’t suppose such a thing ever happened before, but -something tells me my prosperity and success is all bound up in that -rat. He’s a familiar spirit, in fact, like Saul had. If he died I should -never do much more good, and very likely stick in this class for the -rest of my days.” - -“You’d better not think like that,” I said, “because rats are -short-lived things, owing to the nasty food they eat. Not that ‘Mayne -Reid’ has nasty food; but all pink-eyed animals are delicate, and you’ll -have to lose him sooner or later.” - -Ferrars didn’t take warning by me, but after he really did win the Old -Testament prize, and there really was a question about Jezebel, he made -a sort of idol out of the rat, and some chaps declared he said his -prayers to it. I know he constantly bought it cocoa-nut chips, which it -was very fond of. He trained it, too, to live in his breast-pocket, and -I often saw him glancing down in class just to get a glimpse of its -little eyes looking up at him. That taking the piebald rat into class -shows the lengths Ferrars ran. The whole thing was very peculiar. Some -chaps said there was a strong likeness growing up between Ferrars and -the rat; and certainly his thin, white face had a rattish look -sometimes. Other fellows told him his rat was an evil spirit, and would -end by doing him a bad turn, but Ferrars turned upon them and jawed them -with such frightful language that they never said it again. Meanwhile -the Doctor went on taking to Ferrars more and more, and there seemed -every chance of his getting the whole Bible by heart before he left -Merivale. - -Then came the end of the affair like this. Ferrars was so dependent on -his rat now that he wouldn’t do a lesson without it, and he lugged it -fearlessly into the Doctor’s study at those times, fortunately rare, -when the Doctor took our class himself in Scripture. But Ferrars was -such a flyer that we all got tarred with the same brush; and the Doctor, -after questioning Ferrars for half an hour about Bible people we’d never -even heard of, and getting a string of dead-right answers out of him, -would dismiss us all in great good temper, forgetting that he’d only -been having a go at one chap. - -A day came when the Doctor left us for five minutes in the middle of -this class, and while most of us had a hurried dip into the plagues of -Egypt, which was the business in hand, Ferrars, who knew as much about -the plagues as ever Moses did, just got out his rat and gave it a bit of -almond and a short breather of a yard or so along the floor. But, the -Doctor coming back suddenly, he had only just time to pop it into his -pocket, and even then he put the rat into an unusual pocket which it was -not accustomed to, and didn’t like, namely, a trouser-pocket. Ferrars -also shoved a handkerchief down in the pocket to steady the rat. - -Then I saw an awful rum expression come over him, and he grabbed at the -pocket and his mouth fell open, and his face got the color of new putty. -At the same time I saw his eyes turn to a big bookshelf with glass doors -against the side of the room. - -“What’s the matter, Ferrars?” said the Doctor. “You appear unwell.” - -“Nothing, sir; merely a little passing sickness, I think.” - -“Then withdraw, my boy, and ask the matron to give you a few drops of -brandy and water. You need not dine to-day,” said the Doctor, very -kindly. - -But Ferrars wouldn’t withdraw. He knew “Mayne Reid” had got through his -pocket and down his trouser-leg; he also knew it was now behind the -bookshelf, and might reappear at any moment. So he said he was better, -and, actually! that it would be a grief to him to miss one of the -Doctor’s own lessons. - -But afterwards, when the rat didn’t come out and the class was -dismissed, Ferrars was frightful to see. His hair all got on end -somehow, and his eyes swelled and stuck out of his head like glass -beads, and his cheeks got hollow. He ran awful risks going into the -Doctor’s study that day, but the rat wouldn’t come out, and Ferrars -looked old enough to be a master when he went to bed, though only eleven -and a half really. - -“One of two things has happened,” he said to me, for we were in the same -dormitory; “either it’s got wedged in behind the bookshelf and will die -if not let out, or else there was a rat-hole there, and it went down and -has joined common rats, and become a sort of king rat among them.” - -“Or been killed,” I said. - -“No, they would not kill it,” he answered. “Anyway, to-morrow, after the -Doctor’s class is over, and everybody has gone, I shall stop and make a -clean breast of it, and ask him, for the sake of humanity, to have the -bookshelf moved. But it’s all up with me if the rat has lost its feeling -towards me and won’t come back; only if it was stuck and couldn’t come -back, that’s different.” - -He didn’t sleep much that night, but he said some prayers, which was a -thing he didn’t often do; and of course he was praying that the piebald -rat might be allowed to return. - -But next day, after the Scripture class, in which Ferrars was not nearly -so much to the front as usual, and got regularly muddled over a potty -question about Jacob, the Doctor saved him the trouble of asking about -his rat. He--the Doctor, I mean--had been jolly glum all through class, -and when it was ended he did a rum thing, which was awful to see, -knowing all we did. He told us to keep our places, then went to the -fireplace and picked up the shovel. From the face of it he removed a bit -of newspaper, and under the newspaper was “Mayne Reid.” His pink eyes -had gone foggy, and there was a little streak of blood on his mouth. -Otherwise his body looked all right. - -“Now here,” said the Doctor, in an awfully solemn way, “we have a dead, -piebald rat. There can be no outlet for error concerning such a rat as -this. To have seen such a rat is to remember it. Already three classes -have been before me to-day, but nobody knew anything about this animal. -That it was a tame rat its fatness and sleekness testify. Moreover, the -piebald rat is an outcome of artificiality. A wild rat in a state of -nature is brown or black, as the case may be. This rat, then, had an -owner, and that owner brought it into my study--_my study!_--and -suffered it to escape here. That I do well to be angry you will the more -easily understand when I tell you that the unsavory creature was upon my -desk last night, and has scratched and even eaten some papers whereon -were notes for my next sermon. It was discovered this morning by one of -the domestics. She, seeing some object moving upon my desk, struck with -the broom-handle, and destroyed this rat. Now let there be no -prevarication or evasion of the questions I am going to put to you. -First, I wish to know if this rat belongs, or rather belonged, to any -among you; and, secondly, I desire to learn whether, supposing the rat -be not the property of any present, you happen to know whose property it -is, or rather was?” - -I stole a look at Ferrars, and he appeared so frightful to see, that for -some reason I thought I’d try and help him. So, like a fool, I was just -going to speak when young Corkey minimus did. He said: - -“Please, sir, it might be a foreign sort of rat that came over in that -box of pineapples and things that Ashby major had sent him from the West -Indies.” - -“When I desire your aid in the elucidation of this problem I will apply -for it, Corkey minimus,” answered the Doctor, so Corkey dried up. - -Then, in a sort of voice that was strange to us, and seemed to come from -his stomach or somewhere new, Ferrars spoke, and I never saw a chap look -so ghastly. His eyes were fixed on the rat, and he came forward slowly. - -“Please, sir, it was my rat,” he said. - -“Yours, Ferrars! _You_ to disobey! You, of all boys, to set my orders at -defiance!” - -“It wasn’t an ordinary rat, sir.” - -“I can see what sort of rat it was, sir, for myself,” thundered the -Doctor. “This it is to consider a boy, to devote thought to him, to -particularly commend him for his theological knowledge.” - -“I don’t take any credit for knowing anything now, sir. It was the rat -as much as me.” - -“Robert Ferrars!” said the Doctor, in his caning voice, “you are now -adding wicked buffoonery to an act in itself sufficiently disreputable!” - -“I can’t explain, sir; I don’t mean any buffoonery. That rat was more to -me than you’d think. It--it _did_ help me somehow, and now it’s dead it -wouldn’t be sportsmanlike to it to say not. And if you’ll let me b-bury -it properly, I’ll be very thankful to you.” - -The Doctor looked at Ferrars awfully close during this speech. - -“Either you are lying,” he said, “or you suffer from some hysterical and -neurotic condition, Robert Ferrars, which I have neither suspected nor -discovered until this moment.” - -Then he told us to go; but Ferrars he kept for half an hour; and when -Ferrars came in to dinner I saw he’d been blubbing. - -He explained to me after we’d gone to bed. He said: - -“No, he didn’t cane me or anything. He just talked, and told me a lot -about several things I didn’t know, and said that familiar spirits were -specially barred in the Bible. I never thought he’d have even tried to -understand me; but he did, and he quite saw my side about the rat. He -said kind words over it, too, and was sorry it was dead. And I’ve got to -see Doctor Barnes to-morrow too, though, of course, it’s only having my -rat on my mind that’s upset me. And he let me have it to b-bury gladly.” - -“Where shall you arrange the rat?” I said. - -“I’m sending it home in a stays-box that Jane gave me. I’ve written to -my sister where to bury it. Jane it was who killed it. She cried like -anything when I told her what ‘Mayne Reid’ was to me. But he’s in the -book-post by now, beautifully done up in shavings and fresh geranium -leaves. It’s no good talking any more. Only I will say that if he was a -familiar spirit, he was a jolly good one, very different to the sort -barred in the Scriptures. I don’t know how I’ll get on in the exams. -now. I wish I was dead, too.” - -Then he sniffed a bit, and went to sleep. - - - - - Browne, Bradwell, and Me - - -There’s more stuff torked about fagging at school than anything else in -the world, as far as I can see; and being the smalest boy but two at -Dunston’s, and a fag myself, I ought to know. Of corse, fags do get it -pretty hot sometimes if they happen to fag for a beast, but big fellows -aren’t beasts to small ones as a general thing. I’m sure Bradwell was -the best chap that ever came to Dunston’s, and when he was expelled over -the seege in the Wing Dormatery--him and Trelawny--I felt frightful. I’m -Watson minor myself, my brother being Watson major, one of the reserves -for the second eleven and captain of the third. - -The thing I’m going to write out happened just before the seege, and was -all over before that; and it shows what a fag can do. It also shows what -a jolly good thing it is for big fellows to treat fags well, and give -them odds and ends so as to get their affecksun. If I hadn’t felt what I -did to Bradwell, I shouldn’t have run the awful risks I did for him. -What I did certinly ruined a great project of Bradwell’s, and upsett him -a good bit at the time. But he said afterwards, when the blow had -fallen, and when he could look back and think of it without smacking my -head, that I had ment well. I remember his very words, for that matter. -He said, “Your intenshuns were all right--I will say that--but you’ve -ruined my life.” No chap could say farer than that; and, mind you, I did -ruin his life in a way. I’ve heard many fellows say Bradwell was a -bounder by birth; but he never was to me. - -Well, Bradwell had a great admeration for Mabel Dunston, the Doctor’s -youngest daughter but one, and she had an equal great admeration for -him, for two terms. Bradwell, although a great sportsman in other ways, -was fond of girls. If he passed a school of them he would look awfully -rum and reddish in the face an’ watery in the eyes. Once, going with him -to the playing-field for a football match, he made the distance half a -mile longer by going up a side-street to avoid the high-school girls; -and I asked him why, and he said it was cheek, but told me all the same. -He said, “You can’t meet women got up like this.” Bradwell has -frightfully thin calves to his legs when seen in “knickers,” though he -is the best goalkeeper that was ever known at Dunston’s. Of course, his -affair with Mabel Dunston would never have got to be known by me but for -my great use to Bradwell in carrying notes. Being in the Doctor’s house -that term I was easily able to do this, and there was a jar of green -stuff in the hall where she told me to leave the notes, which I did. She -was fifteen, I believe, or else sixteen, but well on in years anyway, -and a few months older than Bradwell. It was his general brillance won -her, for he could do anything, and his father had plenty of money, being -a man like Whitely’s in London, only in the North of England. Bradwell -drew almost as well as pictures in books, and he used to illustrate the -Latin grammar for his special chums. There’s a part of the Latin grammar -called Syntax, which I haven’t come to yet myself, but it has rather -rummy things in it, with both the Latin and English of them. And -Bradwell used to illustrate these things; and he illustrated two in my -grammar out of puer kindness to me. One was, “Balbus is crowning the -boy’s head with a garland”; and the other was, “A snake appeared to -Sulla while sacrifising”; and you never saw anything better. They were -done on the margin in ink, and the snake appearing to Sulla was about -the queerest and best thing even seen in a Latin grammar. - -I have to tell you this because such a lot happened owing to it. - -Now Browne took my class, which is the lowest in the school, and I am -seventh in it. And I gradually got to hate Browne, because Bradwell did, -and for other reesons of my own to. Browne was said to be only -twenty-two, and he looked younger than many of the chaps, his moustashe -being whitish and invisibel to the eye. He wore necktyes which I -remember hearing Mathers say were an insult to nature, and would have -made a rainbow curl up and faint. We always noticed, at arithmetic -times, that Browne, if he got a stumper, would put up the lid of his -private desk and hide behind it--of course, looking the thing up in his -crib. Then he would wander round, as if by accident, to the chap and do -the sum off quick while he remembered it. Bradwell always hated him; and -when he found that Browne was very friendly with Mabel and Mabel was -very friendly with Browne, he hated him far, far wurse. - -Bradwell and this girl had a row in the shrubbery at the back of the -chapel, and I, being in the gardener’s potting-shed at the time, feeding -a cattipiller of mine, heard it. Bradwell said: - -“I’m not blind, Mabel, I’ve seen it going on ever since last term. You -read his beastly books, and leave rosebuds with scented verbena leaves -round them in that stone urn at the gate when he comes down from his -house to class.” - -And she said: - -“And why shouldn’t I? You must remember, please, that I am my own -mistress. Besides, the intelligents of a grown-up man is very -refreshing.” - -For some reason Bradwell didn’t like this. His voice squeaked up into -his head in a rather rum way when he answered: - -“D’you call _him_ a man? He hasn’t got a muscle on him; and he doesn’t -know more than enough to teach the kids.” - -“That’s merely mean jellousy,” said Mabel. “Of course, he doesn’t talk -to _you_, or show you what is in him. But he tells me all about his -secret life, and very butiful it is. He is a jenius, in fact.” - -“If it comes to that, what can he do?” said Bradwell, awfully clevverly. -“Can he draw?” - -“No, he doesn’t draw.” - -“Oh! can he sing?” - -“No.” - -“Can he play the piano?” - -“No.” - -Now all of these things Bradwell could do to perfecksun, so he got -cheerfuller and cheerfuller. - -“What _can_ he do, then, besides jaw the kids and always sneak to the -Doctor?” - -“I never saw such jellousy as this,” said Mabel; “but if you must know -I’ll tell you what he can do: he can write poetry out of his own head, -and he has got a solid book of it reddy to print some day--there!” - -I suppose Bradwell couldn’t write poetry. Anyway, he got very down in -the face at this. He didn’t say anything--appeering to be frightfully -shocked at what he’d heard. Then Mabel said: - -“When you can quote Browning and Byron and Shelley, and write poems -yourself, it will be soon enough to sneer at Mr. Browne.” - -“You love him,” said Bradwell, in a very tragik voice. - -“I don’t love anybody but my own family,” said Mabel; “but I admire him, -and I admire his poetry, which is very much out of the common indeed.” - -“It’s all over then, I suppose,” said Bradwell. - -“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied to him. “A thing that has -never begun can’t be all over”; which words of Mabel’s seemed to knock -the heart out of Bradwell. - -Then the gardener came along, and I didn’t hear anything else. Of corse, -I couldn’t _help_ hearing what I had done, though I tried hard not to, -and kept feeding my catterpeller like anything all the time. - -Two days after I had to carry another note to Mabel, and found one -waiting for Bradwell in the usual place; so they must have made it up. -Then came the beginning of my misforchunes with Browne. He found the -snake appeering to Sulla in my Latin grammar, and called me up and said -he knew very well I hadn’t drawn it myself, but wanted to know who had. -He said it was wrong to the Doctor to ruin our books, and that he had -seen in several different books the same snake, evidently done by the -same boy, owing to them being so much similar. - -But the very identical thing had happened in another class--to Steggles, -Bradwell having drawn him the same picture; and knowing what Steggles -said, being a chap who is frightfully cunning, I said the same now to -Browne. I said I left the book on my desk, and somebody came along and -done it while I was out of the room. Browne seemed inclined not to -believe this. Anyway, he took the Latin grammar away with him. But I -heard no more about it till the next evening, when I wanted the book in -prep. Remembering Browne had it, I went off to his study and knocked and -walked in. - -Browne wasn’t there for the moment, and the room was empty. I took the -opportunity to look at a rather butiful tobacco-jar of Browne’s which I -have seen at a distance on his mantlepiece many times. Passing his table -to get to it, I chanced to glance there, and juge of my surprise when -the first words I saw at the top of a big sheet of paper were, "To -Mabel"! Underneeth was a lot of writing, and the whole table seemed to -be littered with paper covered with small bits of separate writing, much -of it scratched out and done over again. But the piece with “To Mabel” -at the top was all butiful and clean, without anything scratched, being, -I suppose, the result of all the other bits put together and neetly -copied out. - -Well, there I was with my duty towards Bradwell as his fag. Browne had -evidently done a verse out of his own head for Mabel Dunston, and had -written it in this butiful style, on thick white paper, to send to her. -I felt if she got it, knowing what she’d said to Bradwell about Browne, -that it was certin she would abbandon Bradwell, him not being any good -at poems. I wouldn’t have done it for anybody else in the world _but_ -Bradwell; I wouldn’t have done it at all if I had known what the end of -it was going to be; but, anyway, at the time it seemed to me, as -Bradwell s fag, I ought to do it; so I did. - -I took the poem and rolled it up so as not to hurt it, and hooked off to -Bradwell. He was in his study, and Trelawny, who shares it with him, -being out of the room, I was able to explain. I said: - -“If you please, Bradwell, I’ve come from Mr. Browne’s study, and he was -not there, and happening by a curious axcident to glance on the table I -saw this. Knowing about you and Mabel, and being your fag, I took it.” - -“Took what?” said Bradwell. - -I put the thing in front of him, and he got red and excited. - -“It’s a poem to Mabel by that beast Browne,” he said. - -Then he read it out, half to himself, but I heard. The thing ran like -this: - - "TO MABEL - - “Oh let my Muse sing to the name of Mabel, - Whose azure eyes are fastened to my soul, - Like to forget-me-nots in button-hole. - To tell of my heart’s torment I’m unable. - My thoughts they spin; my brain it grows unstable - When fixed on Thee. Perchance it is my rôle - Never to reach my mad ambition’s Goal, - But to live ever ’midst scholastic babel. - Thy glances brighten all my lonely lot. - Prometheus-like a vulture gnaws my heart, - In biting blasts and under sunshine hot. - My dreams are shattered by a barbed dart, - And, waking wild, I scream that I may not - Whisper the oaths I yearn to Thee impart.” - -I told Bradwell I didn’t quite understand it, and he sat on me. - -“You wouldn’t,” he said, “a kid like you. But I do. It’s a sonnit, and -an extramly fine one. I _hate_ the chap, but it’s no good pretending -he’s not a poet, because this jolly well proves he is. Look at the rimes -and the smoothness!” - -It seemed a heroik thing of Bradwell to say that, feeling as he did to -Browne. He thought for a bit, but told me not to go. - -“Of corse,” he said, “this must be returned. All’s fair in--in a case of -this kind, but--” - -Then he thought very deeply and read the sonnit again. Suddenly he took -a bit of paper and copied down Browne’s poem word for word. Then he told -me to cut back like lightning to Browne’s study, and to put the poem -back on his desk if I could--if not, to most carefully keep it till the -first chance of getting it back to Browne’s room without being spotted. - -“You’re a splendid fag,” he said, “and I shan’t forget this. It’s the -sort of thing that squires did for their knights in olden times; and -they got good rewards too. Now hook it.” - -It’s worth a lot, mind you, to get praise like that from such a chap as -Bradwell. - -When I got back, Browne was rumaging over his table and sweering a good -deal in a loud wisper. He told me to wait a minute, and went off to look -in his bedroom. Then I seezed my opportunity, and slipped the sonnit on -his table under some papers. When he came back he was worried, and went -on hunting till he found it. Then he said “Ah!” to himself, and got -pleasanter and asked me what I wanted. I told him my Latin grammar, and, -being in a very happy state now, owing to finding the poem, he gave my -book back and told me to clear out; which I did. - -After prep. I met Bradwell going in to prayers, and he handed me a note -for Mabel to put in the usual place. He looked awfully rum when he gave -it to me, and he saw that I saw he looked rum. So he said: - -“I don’t mind letting you know, owing to your being such a good fag and -my trusting you as I do. You may read the letter in prayers, then seal -it down and put it behind the pot of ferns in the hall in the usual -place.” - -Of corse, it wasn’t really a letter, or Bradwell wouldn’t have let me -read it. It was just Browne’s sonnit coppied out by Bradwell word for -word; and at the bottom where the words, “What about poetry now?--A. T. -B.” A. T. B. are Bradwell’s initials, his full name being Arthur Thomas -Bradwell. You see, he didn’t exsaxtly say he’d _written_ the sonnit. He -only said, “What about poetry now?” - -The excitement of it all kept me awake for hours and hours through the -night. I don’t suppose any fag ever did more for a big fellow than I had -done for Bradwell that day. Then I began to wonder when Browne would -send off his poem, and wether Mabel would get them both together or one -at a time. You see, of corse, Browne would send her the thing as -original, and there was nothing in Bradwell’s letter to exsaxtly say he -hadn’t written it; and puzzling the thing out for hours and hours, I at -last came to the conklusion that she would find it very difficult which -to believe, because how could she know which was telling the truth to -her? Then, about three or four in the morning almost, I began to feel -rather terrible over it, because I thought of what frightful trouble -Browne must have had to write the sonnit. He might have taken terms and -terms over it for all I could tell, not, of corse, knowing myself how -long it took to write poetry. I felt rather sorry for Browne; but after -all a chap’s duty is to the fellow he fags for before masters; and -feeling that, I went to sleep. - -Three days later Bradwell had me in his room and told me the end of it -all, which shows that a girl never does what you might exspect. - -“As a lesson to you, young Watson,” said Bradwell, “I may tell you that -my career has been utterly blighted and my life ruined by that business -of the sonnit.” - -I said I was sorry to hear it. - -He said: - -“Yes, blighted; and so’s his--I mean Browne’s. She got my letter that -night and his next morning. That night she felt all her old feeling for -me return because of the sonnit, thinking I’d done it. Then, next -morning, she got just the very same stuff to a word from Browne, with a -letter saying he had burned the midnight oil to compose it. Well, there -you are. What does she do? Insted of accepting my statement, being the -first, she argues in a most elaborate way that I couldn’t possibly have -coppied from Browne, and Browne couldn’t possibly have copied from me. -But it would have been to much of a coinsidence if we’d both written -exsaxtly the same sonnit out of our own heads, so what does she -conklude?” - -I said I didn’t know. - -“Why, fathead, that we both coppied it from somebody else--out of some -book by some well-known proper dead poet. I’ve no doubt now, on thinking -over it, that Browne _did_ do that; because when I first read his poem I -could hardly believe that he had written such real poetry, owing to the -rimes and smoothness. But it’s all over now. She’s written a letter I -can’t show you. To hope even for her friendship wouldn’t be any good. A -girl hates a joke something frightful.” - -“How about Browne?” I said. - -“She’s written to him also, asking him where he got the verses out of, -and exsplaining she doesn’t believe they are original, and saying how -another acquaintance of hers had sent the very same lot the day before. -So now you see what a sinful mess you’ve made of it.” - -I said I did, but I felt it was my duty to him. - -“Yes, I know,” he said; “but the question is, What do I do now? You see -‘all’s fair’ and all that; but now, being out of the hunt, ought I to -throw up the sponge and tell the truth, or ought I not?” - -“I don’t know, Bradwell,” I said; “but anyway you won’t mention me, I -hope, because I only acted for you, and did a jolly dangerous thing.” - -“No, you’re safe enough, and, in fact, I’m going to reward you for what -you _did_ do,” said Bradwell. “But seeing I’m out of it, I think it will -be a manly act to Browne if I tell Mabel frankly that I resorted to -strateji.” - -“But me?” I said. - -“I shall merely inform her,” answered Bradwell, “that one of my -emissaceries found the poem, and, of course, brought it to me; that I -despatched it--as a joke, taking care not to say I was the auther. I -shall end with these words: ‘Browne is innosent.’” - -All of which he did, and I left the letter in the usual spot. But Mabel -cut him altogether from that day; and he told me girls have no humer and -laughed it off, though he felt it a lot, and often smacked my head out -of bitterness of mind afterwards, but not hard. He gave me an old knife -for a reward, but told me at the same time never to do anything for him -again without being commanded. - -As for Mabel, she threw over Browne just like she threw over Bradwell, -in spite of Bradwell’s letter; and Bradwell said it was a nemmecis, -whatever that is; and I had a nemmecis to, because a week afterwards -Bradwell threw over me and made young West his fag. I felt hert, but, of -corse, that didn’t get known to Bradwell; and if I fag again, I wont so -much as make a peece of toste unless I’m commanded to. - - - - - Gideon’s Front Tooth - - -I believe Gideon was the only Jew that ever came to Dunston’s, and I -expect, taking it all round, he might have had a better time at a school -for Jews in general; though in one way he wouldn’t have done as well, -and wouldn’t have had the adventure with old Grimbal, which turned out -so splendidly for him when old Grimbal died. - -Though easily the richest chap at Merivale, and getting no less than ten -shillings a week pocket-money, Gideon was so awfully fond of coin that -he hardly spent a penny, and the only thing he did with his money was to -lend it to fellows. He didn’t lend it for nothing, having a curious -system by which you paid in marbles, or bats, or knives for the money, -and, in spite of that, still had to pay back the money itself after a -certain time. You signed a paper, and Gideon said that if chaps hadn’t -paid back the tin on the dates named it would be very serious for them. -But it got serious for him after a bit, because Steggles, who knew quite -as much about money as Gideon (though he never had any), borrowed a -whole pound once, and promised to pay five shillings for it for one -term; and Gideon was new to Steggles then, and agreed. But when the time -of payment came, Steggles said that Gideon had better regard it as a bad -debt, because he wasn’t going to pay back even the original pound. Then -Gideon thought a bit, and asked him why, and Steggles told him. He said: -“Because you know jolly well the Doctor doesn’t allow chaps to lend -money.” - -And Gideon said: - -“This is the first time I’ve heard that.” - -“Anyway, it’s usury, which is a crime,” said Steggles, “and I’m not -going to pay anything; and, being less than twenty-one, you can’t make -me; so it amounts to a bad debt, as I told you just now. You’ve done -jolly well, one way and another, and you’ve got two bats, and Lord knows -how many india-rubber-balls, and cricket-balls, and silver pencils, and -knives out of it, including Ashby minor’s watch-chain, which is silver; -and if you take my tip you’ll keep quiet, because once all these kids -get to know anybody under twenty-one can borrow money without returning -it, then it’s all up with your beastly financial schemes.” - -Gideon was remarkably surprised to know what a lot Steggles had found -out about him, and accused him of looking into his play-chest; and -Steggles said he had. Then Gideon went; and about three chaps who had -heard the talk told others, and they told still more chaps, until, -finally, a good many fellows who owed Gideon money felt there was no -hurry about paying it back till it happened to be convenient. In fact, -Gideon jolly soon saw he couldn’t do any more good for himself like -that, and at the beginning of the next term, when chaps were pretty -flush of coin, he wrote up in the gym, “There will be a sale of bats, -knives, and other various useful articles, between two and three -o’clock, by auction, on Tuesday.--J. GIDEON.” - -Somebody tore it down, but not before most fellows had read it; and when -Gideon and young Miller, who had a bat in the auction, and hoped to get -it back if possible, were seen carrying Gideon’s play-chest to the gym -after dinner on the appointed day, of course we went. It passed off very -well for Gideon, because the things were really good, and often almost -new. He seemed to know all about auctions, and hit the chest with a -stump, and explained the things, and what good points they had about -them. He only took money down, and I will say nobody could have done it -fairer. If a knife had a broken blade, for instance, or a bat was -slightly sprung, which happened with one, he always pointed it out, so -that nobody could say he had been choused over it. Young Miller got back -his bat for four shillings and eightpence; and Ashby minor got back his -silver chain for thirteen shillings; but it wasn’t much good to him, -because, in order to raise the thirteen bob, he had to raffle the chain -at once, at shilling shares; and he took one, hoping to be lucky, but he -wasn’t, Fowle unfortunately getting it. Gideon told me afterwards that -the sale came out fairly, but not quite what he had hoped. He rather -sneered at the Dunston chaps in general, and said they were a -poverty-stricken crew; which got me into a bate, and I told him that I’d -sooner be the son of an officer in the Royal Navy, which I am, than the -biggest Jew diamond dealer in the world, his father being in that -profession. He said there was no accounting for tastes, but he should -have thought that a man who could deliberately go and be a sailor must -be weak in the head. Then I punched him, and he instantly went down and -apologized. I may mention that I am Bray, the cock of the Lower School. - -Before coming to Gideon’s front tooth, just to let you know exactly the -chap he was, I’ll mention another thing he did. An old woman was allowed -to bring up fruit and tuck generally, and sell it to us after morning -school. Steggles, who knows the reason for pretty nearly everything, -said this was permitted by Doctor Dunston to take the edge off our -appetites; but anyway, the old woman sold strawberries and raspberries -in summer-time, and these were arranged with cabbage-leaves in little -wicker baskets at about fourpence each. Well, one day Gideon, who never -refused to eat fruit if offered it, but very seldom bought any, asked -the old woman what she gave for the wicker baskets, and she said -threepence a dozen. Then he asked her what she would give for those -which had been used once, and she thought, and said they would be worth -at least three halfpence a dozen to her. He didn’t say any more, but -after that it was a rum thing how all the used baskets, which generally -were seen kicking about the playground in shoals, disappeared. Nobody -noticed it at the time, but afterwards we remembered clearly that they -_had_ disappeared. And just at the end of the term a chap, hurrying in -late after the bell rang, came bang on Gideon and the old woman round a -corner out of sight of the gates. And the chap saw Gideon give her a -pile of baskets and get three halfpence. Of course, it was the last -three halfpence he ever got that way, because when it became known the -chaps rendered their baskets useless for commerce in many ways. And -Barlow called Gideon “Shylock minor” when he heard that he’d made two -shillings and fivepence halfpenny; which name stuck to Gideon forever. -And Steggles got nine other chaps to subscribe a penny each and buy a -pound of flesh from a butcher’s shop, because in Shakespeare Shylock was -death on his pound of flesh. The pound was put under Gideon’s pillow by -Steggles himself, and when Gideon shoved his watch under his pillow, -which he always did at night, he found it; and Steggles says he turned -pale, but read what was pinned on the pound of flesh, and then smiled -and wrapped the meat up in a letter from home, and said: “What fools you -chaps are, wasting money like that! But it looks all right, and will -mean a good feed for nothing.” - -Next day he got up very early and took his pound of flesh down to the -kitchen and got them to cook it; and he ate about half before breakfast -and had the rest cold in his desk during Monsieur Michel’s lesson, which -was a safe time. And Steggles said we ought to have gone one better and -put poison on it. - -The great affair of the tooth came on at the beginning of next term; and -first I must tell you that next door to Dunston’s lived an old man, so -frightfully ancient that his skin was all shrivelled over his bones. He -didn’t like boys much, but he would look over his garden-wall sometimes -into our playground and scowl if anybody caught his eye. Various things, -of course, went over the wall often, and it was one of the excitements -of Dunston’s to go into old Grimbal’s garden and get them back. Twice -only he caught a chap, and both times, despite his awful age and -yellowness of skin, he thrashed the chap very fairly hard with a -walking-stick; but he never reported anybody to Dunston, and it was -generally thought he regarded it as a sort of sport hunting for chaps in -his garden. Of course, in fair, open hunting he hadn’t a chance, and the -two he did catch he got by stealth, hiding behind bushes on a rather -dark evening. - -Well, the facts would never have been known about this tooth but for -Gideon’s mean spirit. It happened to be necessary for him to fight me, -and though not caring much about it, he couldn’t help himself. Besides, -though the champion of the Lower School, I was tons smaller than Gideon, -and Gideon didn’t know till after the fight that I was a champion, the -true facts about my greatness being hid from him. - -Just before the fight Gideon said: “Oh! my tooth, by the way. It may be -hurt, and it cost my father five guineas.” So, to our great interest he -unscrewed one of his two top front teeth and gave it to his second. You -couldn’t have told it was a sham, so remarkably was it done, and it -screwed on to the foundation of the original tooth much like a spike -screws into the sole of a cricket-boot. Gideon had fallen down-stairs -when he was ten and knocked off half the tooth, so he told us; but -Murray, who is well up in science, said that all Jews’ front teeth are -rather rocky, because in feudal times they were pulled out with pincers -as a form of torture, and to make the Jews give up their secret -treasures. Murray said that after many generations of pulling out Nature -got sick of it, and that in modern times the front teeth of Jews aren’t -worth talking about. Murray is full of rum ideas like that, and he hopes -to go in for engineering, having already many secret inventions waiting -to be patented. - -As to Gideon, I licked him rather badly in two rounds and a half. Then -he was mopped up and dressed, and screwed in his front tooth again with -the greatest ease. - -Once it got known about this tooth, and fellows were naturally excited. -Steggles said it was on the principle of a tobacco-pipe mouthpiece; and, -finding the chaps were keen to see it, Gideon let it be generally known -he would freely show it to anybody for threepence a time, and to friends -for twopence. But this was a safe reduction to make, because, properly -speaking, he hadn’t any friends. Seeing there were nearly 200 boys at -Dunston’s, and that certainly half, including several fellows from the -Sixth, took a pleasure in seeing the tooth, and didn’t mind the rather -high charge, Gideon did jolly well; and in the case of Nubby Tomkins, he -made actually one shilling and threepence; because the tooth had a most -peculiar fascination for Nubby, and he saw it no less than five times. -After that Gideon made a reduction to him, as well he might. But somehow -Slade, the head of the school, was very averse to Gideon’s front tooth -when he heard about it, and he decided that there must be no more -exhibitions of it for money. He told Gideon so himself. - -However, a new boy came a week afterwards and heard about the -strangeness of the tooth, and offered a shilling, in three instalments, -to see it; which was too much temptation for Gideon, and he showed it, -contrary to what Slade had said. - -Slade, of course, heard, for the new boy happened to be his own cousin, -though called Saunders; and then there was a curious scene in the -playground, which I fortunately saw. Slade came up to Gideon in the very -quiet way he has, and asked him in a perfectly gentlemanly voice for his -front tooth. At first Gideon seemed inclined not to give it up, but he -saw what an awfully serious thing that would be, and finally unscrewed -it, though not willingly. - -“Now,” said Slade, “I’ll have no more of this penny peep-show business -at Merivale. I told you once, and you have disobeyed me. So there’s an -end of your beastly tooth. What’s this?” - -He took something out of his pocket. - -“It’s a catapult,” said Gideon. - -“It is,” said Slade, “and I’m going to use your tooth instead of a -bullet, and fire it into space.” - -“It cost five guineas,” said Gideon. - -“Don’t care if it cost a hundred,” answered Slade, still in a very -gentlemanly sort of way. “We can’t have this sort of thing here, you -know.” - -Slade was just going to fire into space, as he had said, when a robin -suddenly settled within thirty yards of us, on the wall between the -playground and old Grimbal’s. Slade being a wonderful shot with a -catapult (having once shot a wood-pigeon), suddenly fired at the robin, -and only missed it by about four inches. He said the shape of a front -tooth was very unfavorable for shooting. But, anyway, the tooth went -over into Grimbal’s, and we distinctly heard it hit against the side of -his house. - -Then Slade went away, and we rotted Gideon rather, because not having -the tooth looked rum, and made a difference in his voice. He took it -very quietly, and said he rather thought his father would be able to -summon Slade; and before evening school, having marked down the spot -where he fancied his tooth had hit Grimbal’s house, he went to look with -a box of matches. What happened afterwards he told us frankly; and it -was certainly true, because, with all his faults, Gideon never lied to -anybody. - -“I went quietly over, and began carefully looking along the bottom of -the wall, using a match to every foot or so,” he said, "and I had done -about half when I heard a door open. I then hooked it, and ran almost on -to old Grimbal. He had not opened the door at all, but was coming up the -garden path at the critical moment. Of course, he caught me. He was -going to rub it into me with his stick, when I said I should think it -very kind if he would hear me first, as I had a perfectly good excuse -for being there. - -"He said: - -"‘What excuse can you have for trespassing in my garden, you little oily -wretch?’ - -"‘Oily wretch’ was what he called me; and I said that my tooth had been -fired into his garden that very day, about half-past one, by a chap with -a catapult; and I lighted a match and showed him it was missing. - -"He said: - -"‘How the deuce are you going to find a tooth in a garden this size?’ -And I told him I had marked it down very carefully, and that it had cost -five guineas, and that I rather believed my father would be able to -summon the chap who had shot it away. He seemed a good deal interested, -and said he thought very likely he might, if it was robbery with -violence. Then he asked me if I was the boy he had seen beating down the -price of a purse at Wilkinson’s in Merivale, and I said I was. Then he -said, ‘Come in and have a bit of cake, boy’; and I went in and had a bit -of cake, and saw on a shelf in his room about fifty or sixty -cricket-balls, and various things which he has collared when they went -over. He asked me a lot of questions about different things, and I -answered them. All he said was about money. He also asked me to be good -enough to value the things he had, which came over the wall from time to -time; and I did, and he thanked me. They were worth fifteen shillings -and tenpence; and Wright’s ball, which everybody thought was stolen by -the milkman, wasn’t, for old Grimbal’s got it; and the milkman should be -told and apologized to. - -"Well, he knew a lot about money, and told me he had thousands of golden -sovereigns, which he makes breed into thousands more. - -"He said: - -"‘You’re the only boy I ever met with a grain of sense in his head. Now, -if I gave you a check on my bankers in Merivale for five pounds to-day, -and wrote to you to-morrow morning to say I had changed my mind, what -would you do?’ - -“I said, ‘It would be too late, sir, because your check would have been -sent off to my father that very night, to put out at interest for me.’ -He said, ‘That’s right. Never give back money, or anything.’ Then he -asked me my name, and told me I might come back to-morrow and look for -my tooth by daylight.” - -That was Gideon’s most peculiar adventure, and, though he never found -the tooth or saw old Grimbal again, yet about seven or eight months -afterwards, when old Grimbal was discovered all curiously twisted up and -dead in bed by the man who took him his breakfast, the result of -Gideon’s visit to him came out. Old Grimbal had specially put him into -his will by some legal method, and Doctor Dunston had Gideon into his -study three days after old Grimbal kicked. It then was proved that old -Grimbal had left Gideon all the things that came over the wall, and also -a legacy of fifty pounds in money, because, according to the bit of the -will which the Doctor read to Gideon out of a lawyer’s letter, he was -the only boy old Grimbal had ever met with who showed any intelligence -above that of the anthropoid ape. - -Gideon returned all the balls and things to their owners free of charge, -but not until the rightful owners proved they were so. And the money he -sent to his father; and his father, he told me afterwards, was so jolly -pleased about the whole affair that he added nine hundred and fifty -pounds to old Grimbal’s fifty. Therefore, by shooting Gideon’s front -tooth at a robin, Slade was actually putting the enormous sum of one -thousand pounds into Gideon’s pocket, which I should think was about the -rummest thing that ever happened in the world. - -Gideon stopped at Dunston’s one term after that. Then he went away, and, -I believe, began to help his father to sell diamonds. He was fairly good -at French, and very at German; but of other things he knew rather -little, except arithmetic, and his was the most beautiful arithmetic -which had ever been done at Merivale; for I heard Stokes, who was a -seventeenth wrangler in his time, tell the Doctor so. - - - - - The Chemistry Class - - -This story about Guy Fawkes’s Night at Dunston’s is worth knowing, -because it shows the rumminess of Nubby Tomkins. Tomkins, I may say, was -called “Nubby,” owing to his nose, which was extremely huge, though he -said it was Roman, and swore he wouldn’t change it if he could. Anyway, -Bradwell made a rhyme about it that is certainly good enough to repeat. -He wrote it first on a black-board with chalk, and a good many chaps -learned it by heart. - -It ran like this: - - “Our Nubby’s nose is ponderous, - And our Nubby’s nose is long; - So it wouldn’t disgrace - Our Nubby’s face - If half his nose was gone.” - -Which was not only jolly good poetry, but also true--a thing all poetry -isn’t by long chalks, as you can see in Virgil and such like. - -Well, Nubbs sang the solos in chapel on Sundays, and people came from -far to hear him do it; in consequence of which, so Steggles said, the -Doctor favored him, and regarded him as an advertisement to Dunston’s. -But his singing wasn’t in it compared with the advertisement he gave the -Doctor on Guy Fawkes’s Night the term before Slade left. - -To explain the whole tremendous thing I must tell you that Nubbs -belonged to the chemistry class. This class, in fact, was pretty well -started for him, his father telling Dunston, so Nubbs said, that he -shouldn’t send him at all if he couldn’t be taught chemistry; because -Nubbs had shown a good deal of keenness for chemicals generally from the -earliest days, and bought little boxes of “serpents’ eggs” and red fire -instead of sweets ever since he was old enough to buy anything. He had -also blown off his eyebrows and eyelashes with a mixture he was grinding -up in a mortar, and they had never grown again to this day--all of which -things showed he had chemistry in him to a great extent. So the Doctor -started a chemistry class, and a chap called Stoddart, from Merivale, -came up once a week to take it; and Nubbs joined, and so did I, not -because I had chemistry in me worth speaking of, but because I was a -chum of Nubby’s. Wilson also joined, and so did Hodges. I may mention my -name is Mathers. - -I always thought that chemists simply mix the muck doctors give you when -you’re queer, but it seems not. In fact, there are several sorts of -chemists, and Nubbs said he hoped to belong to the best sort, who don’t -have bottles of red and green stuff in the windows, and so on. He said a -man who sold pills and tooth-brushes, and liquorice-root and soap, could -not be considered a classy chemist. The real flyers made discoveries and -froze air, and sneaked one another’s inventions, and got knighted by the -Queen if they had luck and if they were well thought of by the -newspapers. I should think really Nubbs might come to being knighted if -he sticks to it, for even down to the stuff in cough lozenges nothing is -hid from him. - -Once the matron gave me simply a vile lozenge for my throat, which got a -bit foggy owing to falling into the water during “hare and hounds.” -Well, the lozenge was white in color, but even a white lozenge may be -very decent sometimes, so I took a shot at it going to bed. But it was -so jolly frightful to the taste that I chucked it away, and next morning -found it again and examined it after drying. On it I then found the -words “Chlorate of potash.” So I took it to Nubbs. He said it was -certainly a chemical, and added that the stuff in it was almost the same -as you make “Pharaoh’s serpents” with. I could hardly believe such a -thing, so he lighted the lozenge and it burned blue, and a long, -wriggling, brownish ash came curling out of it like a snake, just as -Nubby said, which is well worth knowing to anybody who ever has a -chlorate of potash lozenge. Many such like remarkable and useful things -Nubby could tell you; among others, how to mix sulphur and gunpowder and -other ingredients for fireworks. He had, in fact, an awful fine book -devoted to the subject, and wooden affairs to load cases; and once when -Stoddart didn’t turn up and the Doctor put us on our honor to do the -proper things in the laboratory alone, Nubbs finished off analyzing some -mess in about five minutes, and spent the complete rest of the time -making a rocket. It had four blue stars and thirteen yellow ones, and -the case was made out of a stiff brown paper roll in which his mother -had that morning sent Nubbs a photograph of her new baby at home. And -Nubbs forgot the photograph and stuffed the mixture in upon it, and made -a separate compartment for the stars on top. So the photograph of -Nubby’s mother’s new baby, curiously enough, went off with the rocket, -and was never more seen by mortal eye. Not that Nubbs cared. He kept the -rocket till the Doctor’s birthday, and after prayers, when he knew he -was in his study, with the windows open and the blinds up, being -summer-time, Nubbs let it off in the front garden, and we helped. It -turned out very good in a way, though not quite a perfect rocket, -because instead of going up it tore along the ground. But it tore for an -enormous distance, and then turned and came back all of itself. And the -blue stars did not go off, but the yellow ones did--or some--in a bed of -rather swagger geraniums, unfortunately. - -The Doctor didn’t care much about it, not understanding our motives. But -Nubbs explained that he had done it out of honor to the day. Then the -Doctor thanked him, and said he had doubtless meant well, and that from -the earliest times of the Chinese the pyrotechnist’s art had been -employed upon occasions of legitimate festivity and rejoicing. - -I mention this because it was the encouragement he had over this -creeping rocket that made Nubbs get so above himself, if you understand -me. He never forgot it, and next autumn term he actually asked the -Doctor if he might have a regular firework display in the playground on -the night of the Fifth of November. He asked rather cunningly, just -after an English History lesson, during which the Doctor had been -slating Guy Fawkes frightfully; and having said such a heap of hard -things about the beggar, Doctor Dunston couldn’t very well refuse. - -He said: - -“Your request is unusual Tomkins; but I can see no objection at the -moment. However, I will let you have my answer at no distant date.” - -And I said to Nubbs: - -“That means he’ll think and think till he’s got a reason why you -shouldn’t, and let you know then.” - -But Nubbs said to me: - -“I believe he’ll let me do it, feeling so jolly bitter as he does about -Guy Fawkes.” - -And blessed if he didn’t! Nubbs undertook to make the things himself. -Nothing was to be bought but chemicals in a raw, unmixed condition, and -Doctor Dunston actually headed the subscription list with 2_s._ 6_d._; -and Thompson gave the same, and Mannering 2_s._, and “Frenchy” 3_s._ -Fifty-two chaps also contributed various sums from 1_s._ to 1_d._; and -Nubbs became rather important, and went down gradually to the bottom of -the Lower Fifth owing to the strain upon his mind. - -He gathered together £2 7_s._ 5_d._ in all, and made it up to £2 10_s._ -himself; and Fowle’s father, who was in some business where they used -sulphur in terrific quantities, got four pounds weight of it for -nothing, and Nubbs said it was a godsend for illuminating purposes. He -had been to the Crystal Palace, and told us he was going to carry -everything out just like they did there, as far as he could with the -money. At the last moment he got a tremendous increase of funds in the -shape of a pound from his father; and, strangely enough, it was that -extra pound that wrecked him. Without that father’s pound he couldn’t -have arranged the principal feature of the whole performance; and -without that principal feature nothing in the way of misfortunes to -Nubbs worth mentioning would have fallen out. But the pound came, and -with it a letter very encouraging to Nubby. - -He went on mixing away at the various proper compounds and experimenting -with them till he got his rockets to go up like larks and his Roman -candles to shoot out stars the length of a cricket pitch. Then his -governor’s pound came, and he decided on having a set piece with it. A -set piece, Nubby said, is the triumph of the firework maker’s art--and -very likely it is in proper hands. You can have likenesses in fire, or -words, or ships, or “Fame crowning Virtue,” or, in fact, pretty well -anything. A set piece is designed small first, then large; and it is -worked out with little tiny things like squibs, only very small and -without any bang at the end. These are all lighted off at once, and they -burn one color first, then change to another. Nubbs said his would start -yellow, because it was cheaper, and finally turn green. The thing was -what design to have, and the four chaps in the chemistry class all -thought differently. I advised trying a shot at a huge portrait of the -Doctor, but when it came to particulars nobody knew how to work a -portrait; and Hodges thought we might do something about Guy Fawkes, but -Nubbs didn’t care about that. Then Hodges thought again, and suggested -the words, “God bless the Doctor,” and I agreed that it would be fine; -but Wilson said it was profane, and might annoy the Doctor frightfully, -especially when it turned green. Then Nubbs suggested the words, “Doctor -Dunston is a Brick!” and Hodges said that it was good, and Wilson said -it might be good, but it wasn’t true, anyway. However, it was three to -one, though we all admitted that, from his point of view, Wilson was -right to hate the Doctor, because the Doctor hates him. - -The thing was to make a licking big frame of light wood, and arrange the -letters across it, and the note of exclamation at the end. This we did, -and hammered it against the playground wall, and wheeled up the screens -that go behind the bowler’s arm in the cricket season, and hid away the -set piece behind them till the time came. Likewise we arranged stakes -for the Roman candles, and a board for the Catharine wheels, and a -string for the flying pigeons, and so on. And also we rigged up bits of -tin round the playground and by the fir-trees at the top end and behind -the gym. These were for Bengal lights and other illuminations. All of -this Nubbs had arranged for the paltry sum of £3 10_s._ The chemistry -class had a half-holiday as the time drew on, and we worked like -niggers, all four of us. Nubbs commanded, so to speak, and mixed and did -the grinding and pounding and stars. Hodges and I hammered up the heavy -posts and stakes in the playground, and carried out odd jobs generally; -and Wilson manufactured cases for everything with brown paper and paste -and string. - -The set piece took two hundred and thirteen little tubes. These Wilson -made in lengths of a yard and cut off at the required size. And Nubbs -stuffed them--with green fire first and yellow on top. It promised to be -a jolly big thing altogether, and four days before the night Nubbs began -to get awfully nervous, and to prepare yards and yards of touch-paper. - -And Corkey minimus heard the Doctor say to Browne: - -“Really the lads have devoted no little energy and method on their -proceedings; and it appears--so Mr. Stoddart tells me--that the boy -Tomkins has mixed his compounds quite correctly, thereby insuring that -brilliance and variety which is looked for in an exhibition of this -kind. I wonder whether we might ask the parents and friends of those who -dwell at Merivale and the immediate neighborhood.” - -And Browne, who never misses a chance of showing the brute he is at -heart, said: - -“Really, I should think twice, Doctor Dunston. There is such an element -of chance with amateur fireworks. Unfortunately, we can’t have a dress -rehearsal, as with the scenes from Shakespeare and the recitations at -the end of the term.” - -“Nevertheless,” said the Doctor, “I am disposed to run the risk. A -little harmless pleasure combined with courtesy to relatives at mid-term -is rather desirable than not.” - -So about fifty people were asked, and they brought fifty more, and the -cads from Merivale got to know too, and there was a good crowd of them -along the fence by the gym. Also two policemen came, and Nubbs, who was -nervous before, grew much worse when he heard of it. Besides, we had a -frightful shock two days before the firework night, owing to the loss of -poor old Wilson. By simply sickening luck he got reported by Browne for -cheek. It was when Browne came out in a new pair of awfully squeaking -boots with sham pearl buttons at the side and drab tops; and Wilson said -they were ugly “eighteens” and Browne heard him. The Doctor took an -awfully grave view of this, and told Wilson that personality was the -vilest kind of cheek. Which wouldn’t have mattered, but he gave him a -thousand lines as well, and forbade him to see the fireworks or help any -more with them. - -“And that’s the man you call a brick!” Wilson said, rather bitterly. It -certainly was rough, after the way he had worked; but from the Wing -Dormitory, where he would be at the time, he might be able to see pretty -well everything by leaning far out between the window bars. Which Nubbs -pointed out to him, and he said he should. He also said he’d pay out -Browne some day, and very likely Dunston too. - -Well, the night came, and it was a fine one; and the cads likewise came -and lined the fence. Then the Doctor clapped his hands twice, which was -the signal to begin; and just as he did so out burst yellow fire -everywhere behind the bits of tin, lighted simultaneously by seven -chaps. And everybody seemed to like it; and the Doctor said: - -“Capital! Bravo, Tomkins--a pleasing and fairy like conceit!” - -Then Nubbs let fly two rockets, and they went up well and burst out in -stars, though not as many by any means as we had crammed into them; but -one twisted for some reason, and, instead of falling in the direction of -the cads, the stick twinkled down, with just a spark of red here and -there in the line of it, bang behind the chapel. Both Nubbs and I -distinctly heard it go smack through the top of the greenhouse, and I -rather think the Doctor heard it too, for he didn’t say “Bravo” or -anything, but just sent a kid to tell Nubbs to point future rockets the -other way, which disheartened Nubbs, because he’s like a girl at times -of great excitement such as this was. But he soon cheered up, especially -at the splendid success of the Catherine-wheels, which he hadn’t hoped -much from, and at the cheers even the cads gave for the “golden rain” -which showed up everything as bright as day, including Maude and the -other Dunston girls, and Mrs. Dunston, and Nubby’s father standing -smiling very amiably by the Doctor, and the policemen blinking, and the -crowd, and a white dab hanging out of a high window afar off, which I -saw and knew to be Wilson. - -Only the balloon failed, owing to the nervousness of Nubbs, who set fire -to the whole show while he was trying to light the spirit on the sponge -underneath; but he passed it off with crackers thrown among the kids, -and then, while they were all yelling, he dragged away the cricket -screens, and Nubbs let off the set piece. He lighted the touch-paper, -and it snapped and crackled all over the design in a moment, and a thick -smoke rose, and out of it came the set piece flaring in rich yellow -fire. Of course, we expected what Nubbs and Wilson had arranged, viz., -“Doctor Dunston is a Brick!” but instead there came out these awful -words: - - “DOCTOR DUNSTON - IS A BRUTE!” - -That just shows what a frightful difference three letters will make in a -thing; and the night was so dark and the letters so big that you could -have read them a mile off. Only, if you will believe it, Dunston didn’t. -People applauded like anything at first, till the preliminary smoke -cleared off and they read the truth. Then they shut up and made a sound -like wind coming through a wood. But the cads yelled and roared, and so -did the policemen, for I heard them; and to make the frightful thing a -shade more frightful, if possible, the Doctor, who is as blind as ten -bats, and didn’t realize the end of the set piece, but only read his -name at the top, clapped his hands and said: - -“Famous, famous! You excel yourself, Tomkins!” - -Then the words began gradually to turn green; and, for that matter, so -did Nubbs. In fact, whether it was the reflected light or the condition -of his mind, or both, I certainly never saw any chap become so perfectly -horrid to look at as Nubbs did then. His nose seemed to stand out like a -great green rock, and his eyes bulged, and his chin dropped, and the set -piece turned his teeth as bright as precious emeralds. He just merely -said, “Good Lord!”--nothing more--then hooked it off into the darkness, -simply shattered. - -At the same time Stoddart and Thompson, and Mannering and Browne, and -some chaps from the Sixth, not knowing what color the beastly set piece -might turn next, or how soon the Doctor would spot it, dashed at the -thing and dragged it down, and trampled on it; and Browne in the act -burned the very boots that Wilson had cheeked, which pleased Wilson a -good deal when he heard it. - -After that it was all over, and the Doctor, thinking the set piece had -died a natural death, so to speak, saw me under the gas-light at the -gate, as everybody streamed out, and said: - -“Ah, young man, what was that last word in the illumination? I know you -and Hodges also had a hand in it, as well as Tomkins.” - -And I said: - -“Please, sir, we arranged the words ‘Doctor Dunston is a Brick!’” - -And he said: - -“Excellent! Pithy and concise if a little familiar. I only hope you all -echo that sentiment--every one of you. Send Tomkins to me, and tell the -other fellows there is cake and lemonade going in the dining-hall.” - -Just as if the other fellows didn’t know it! But everybody gave three -cheers for the Doctor and Mrs. Dunston, and I started to find Nubbs; and -the policemen made the cads go, though they went reluctantly. - -I looked long for Nubby, and at last found him all alone in the gym. One -bit of candle was burning, which looked frightfully poor after all the -brilliance of the fireworks, and Nubbs had got the parallel bars under -the flying rings, and was standing on them--I mean the bars. - -“What the Dickens are you doing, Nubby?” I said. - -And he answered: - -“It’s no jolly good attempting to stop me now, because it’s too late. My -life is ruined, and my father was there too to see it ruined; and I’m -going to hang myself, as every convenience for hanging is here.” - -Mind you, he would have done it. Knowing Tomkins as I do, and his great -ingeniousness, I don’t mind swearing that he would have been a hung chap -in another minute. So I told him; but, though doubtful, he decided to -put it off, anyway. I even got him to promise he wouldn’t hang himself -at all if his father believed his innocence about the set piece. And -Crewe, the head-master under the Doctor, and old Briggs and Thompson got -us in a corner--Nubbs and Hodges and me--and we solemnly vowed we knew -nothing of it; and Crewe went down to the _Merivale Trumpet_ and made -the reporter put in the original words when it came out; and Thompson -explained to Mrs. Dunston how some evil-disposed, wicked person had -tampered with the set piece, and begged her not to wound the feelings of -the Doctor by telling him; and the Sixth hushed it up among the kids; -and I sneaked a bit of cake for Wilson, and went up after the row was -over and told him everything, down to the burning of Browne’s boots. - -He confessed to me then that he had done it, which didn’t surprise me -much, knowing how he had worked, and then at the last minute almost been -deprived of seeing the show. It was certainly a terrible revenge; but, -of course, a terrible revenge which doesn’t come off owing to a master -being too shortsighted to see it is pretty sickening for the revenger. -Besides the risk. - -Mr. Crewe worked like a demon to find out who had done it, and he -suspected Wilson from the first, but couldn’t prove it. But at last he -did find out through Fowle, who got it out of Ferrars, who got it out of -West, who got it out of Nubbs in a moment of rage. For I may say Wilson -himself told Nubbs, and Nubbs never forgave him, and says he never -shall, even if they ever both go to heaven. - -So Crewe, having found out, had some talk with Wilson. But he didn’t -lick him; whereas Wilson did lick Fowle, and that pretty badly. Not that -Fowle cares for an ordinary licking more than another chap cares for a -smack on the head. The only way to hurt him is to twist his arm round, -about twice, and then hit him hard just above the elbow. I may say I -found this out myself, and everybody does it now. - - - - - Doctor Dunston’s Howler - - -Mind you, if it’s interesting to watch any ordinary person come a -howler, what must it be to see your own head-master do it? A “howler,” -of course, is the same as a “cropper,” and you can come one at cricket -or football or in class or in everyday life. - -Dr. Dunston’s howler was a most complicated sort, and I had the luck to -be one of the chaps who witnessed him come it. Of course, to see any -master make a tremendous mistake is good; but when you are dealing with -a man almost totally bald and sixty-two years of age the affair has a -solemn side, especially owing to his being a Rev. and a D.D. In fact, -Slade, who was with me, said the spectacle reminded him of the depths of -woe beggars got into in Greek tragedies, which often wanted half a dozen -gods to lug them out of. But no gods troubled themselves about Dunston; -and it really was a bit awful looked at from his point of view; because -it’s beastly to give yourself away to kids at the best of times; and no -doubt to him all of us are more or less as kids, even the Sixth. - -He often had a way of bringing the parents of a possible new boy through -one or two of the big class-rooms and the chapel of Merivale, just to -show what a swagger place it was. Then we all bucked up like mad, and -the masters bucked up too, and gave their gowns a hitch round and their -mortar-boards a cock up, and made more noise and put on more side -generally, just to add to the splendor of the scene from the point of -view of the parents of the possible new boy. - -Sometimes the affair was rather spoiled by an aunt or mother or some -woman or other asking the Doctor homely sort of questions about sanitary -arrangements or prayers; then to see old Dunston making long-winded -replies and getting even the drains to sound majestic was fine. His -manner varied according to the people who came over the school. -Sometimes, if it only happened to be a guardian or a lawyer, he was -short and stern. Then he just swept along, calling attention to the -ventilation and discipline, and looking at the chaps as if they were -dried specimens in a museum; but with fathers or women he had a playful -mood and an expression known as the “parent-smile.” To mothers he never -talked about “pupils,” but called the whole shoot of us “his lads,” and -beamed and fluttered his gown, like a hen with chickens flutters its -wings. The masters always copied him, and to see that little brute -Browne trying to flutter over the kids like a hen when the Doctor came -into his class-room was a ghastly sight, knowing him as we did. Also the -Doctor would often pat a youngster on the head and beam at him. He -generally singled Corkey minimus out for patting and beaming; and Corkey -minor said the irony of it was pretty frightful, considering that Corkey -minimus, for different reasons, got licked oftener by the Doctor than -almost any chap in the Lower School. - -Well, one day in came the Doctor to the school-room of the Fourth. I’m -in the Sixth myself, and a personal chum of Slade’s, the head of the -school; but I happened to have gone to the Fourth with a message, so I -saw what happened. A very big man who puffed out his chest like a pigeon -followed the Doctor. He had a blue tie on with a jolly bright diamond in -it, and there were small purple veins in a regular network over his -cheeks, and his mustache was yellowish-gray and waxed out as sharp as -pins. A lady followed him with red rims to her little eyes and gold -things hanging about her chest. The Doctor, being all arched up and -rolled round from the small of the back like a wood-louse, seemed to -show they were parents of perhaps more fellows than one. The big chap -wore an eye-glass and spoke very loud, and was jolly pleasant. - -“Ah!” he said, “and this is where the little boys work, eh? I expect, -now, my youngster will be drafted in among these small men, Doctor -Dunston?” - -“It is very possible--nay, probable in the highest degree, my lord,” -said the Doctor. “We are now,” he continued, “in the presence of the -Fourth and Lower Fourth. The class-room is spacious, as you see, and -new. A commanding panorama of the surrounding country and our -playing-fields may be enjoyed from the French windows. If two of you -lads will move that black-board from there, Lord Golightly may be able -to see something of the prospect.” - -Two of the kids promptly knocked down the black-board nearly onto the -purple-veined lord’s head. Then suddenly the lady called out and -attracted his attention. Looking round, we found she had got awfully -excited, and stood pointing straight at young Tomlin. He was a mere kid, -at the extreme bottom of the Lower Fourth; but he happened to be my fag, -so I was interested. She pointed at him, in the most frantic way, with a -hand in a browny-yellow glove, and a gold bracelet outside the glove and -a little watch let into the bracelet. - -“Good gracious!” she said, “do look Ralph! What an astounding -resemblance! Whoever is that boy?” - -Tomlin turned rather red in the gills, which was natural. - -“Do you know the lad?” asked the Doctor. - -“Never saw him before in my life; but I hope he’ll forgive me for being -so rude as to point at him in that way,” she said. “He’s exactly like -our dear Carlo; they might be twins.” - -Tomlin thought she meant a pet dog, and got rather rum to look at. - -“Carlo is our son, you know,” explained the lord. - -“Singular coincidence,” answered Doctor Dunston, not looking very keen -about it. In fact, he wasn’t too fond of Tomlin at any time, and seemed -sorry he should be dragged in now. But the kid was a very tidy sort, -really--Captain of the Third Footer Eleven and a good runner. He -happened to be the son of a big London hatter who had a shop of enormous -dimensions in Bond Street; and the Doctor was said to get his own hats -there; yet he didn’t like Tomlin. - -Tomlin went out into the open, and the purple-veined lord shook hands -with him, and the lord’s wife stood him in the light and turned him -round to catch different expressions. Then they admitted that the -likeness was really most wonderful, and they both hoped Tomlin and Carlo -would be great friends. Tomlin, told by the Doctor to answer, stood on -one leg, twisted his arms in a curious way he’s got when nervous, and -said he hoped they might be; but he said it as though he knew jolly well -they wouldn’t. - -Then the lord and the lady cleared out, and a week later Carlo came. His -real name was Westonleigh, and he was a viscount or something, being -eldest son of an earl; but we called him Carlo, and he grew jolly waxy -when he found his nickname had got to Merivale before him. He fancied -himself to a most hideous extent for a kid of nine, and explained he’d -only come for a year or so before going to Eton. He went into the Lower -Fourth, so Tomlin ceased to be at the bottom of that class. - -The likeness between Carlo and my fag was really most peculiar. It must -have been for Carlo’s own mother to see it; but when Carlo heard that -Tomlin would be a hatter in the course of years he refused to have -anything to do with him. And Tomlin loathed Carlo, too, from the start; -so instead of being chums according to the wish of the purple-veined -lord, they hated one another, and the first licking of any importance -which Carlo got he had from Tomlin. - -The chap was a failure all round, and it’s no good saying he wasn’t. -Everybody saw it but Doctor Dunston, and he wouldn’t. Carlo proved to be -a sneak and a liar of the deepest sort--not to masters, but to the -chaps; and he was also jolly cruel to animals, and very much liked to -torture things that couldn’t hit him back, such as mice and insects. He -had a square face and snubby nose, and a voice and eyes exactly similar -to Tomlin’s; but there was no likeness in their characters, Tomlin being -a very decent kid, as I have said. Fellows barred Carlo all round, and -he only had one real chum in the miserable shape of Fowle. Fowle sucked -up to him and listened for hours about his ancestors, and buttered him -at all times, hoping, of course, that some day he would get asked to -Carlo’s father’s castle in the holidays. I may also note Carlo never -played games, excepting tossing behind the gymnasium for half-pennies -with Fowle and Steggles, Steggles, of course, winning. - -Happening one day to go down through the playground, young Tomlin saw -Westonleigh near a little fir-tree which grew at the top of the -drill-ground. He was alone, and seemed to be doing something queer, so -Tomlin stopped and went over. - -“What are you up to?” he said. - -“Frying ants,” said Carlo, “though it’s no business of yours. You see, -there’s turpentine juice come out of this tree where I cut it yesterday, -and you can stick the ants in it, then fry them to a cinder with a -burning-glass, like this.” - -“That’s what you’re doing?” - -“It is.” - -“Don’t you think you’re rather a little beast?” - -“What d’ you mean, hatter?” - -“I mean I’m going to kick you for being such a cruel beast.” - -They stood the same height to an inch and were the same age, so it was a -perfectly sportsman-like thing for Tomlin to offer. - -“You seem to forget who you’re talking to,” said Carlo. - -“No, I don’t--no chance of that. Your ancestors came over with William -the Conqueror--carried his portmanteau, I expect, then cleared out when -the fighting came on. Yes, and another ancestor stabbed a friend of Wat -Tyler’s when he was face down on the ground, after somebody else had -knocked him over. That’s what you are, ant-fryer.” - -“I’ll thank you to let me pass,” said Carlo. “I’m not accustomed to -talking to people like you, and if you think I’m going to fight with a -future hatter you’re wrong.” - -“Then you can put your tail between your legs and swallow this,” said -Tomlin, and he went on and licked Carlo pretty well. He also broke his -burning-glass. - -“You’ll live to be sorry for this all your life!” yelled out Carlo, when -Tomlin let him get up off some broken flower-pots on the drill-ground. -“I’ll never forget it; I’ll get my father to make old Dunston expel you; -and when I’m a man I’ll devote all my time to wrecking your vile hat -business and ruining you and making you a shivering, starving beggar in -the streets!” - -“Go and sneak, I should,” said Tomlin. - -And blessed if Carlo didn’t! He tore straight off to the Doctor just as -he was, in his licked condition. - -That much I heard from my fag, young Tomlin, but the rest I saw for -myself, as the Sixth happened to be before the Doctor in his study when -Carlo arrived. He was white and muddy, and slightly bloody and panting; -he looked jolly wicked, and his collar had carried away from the stud, -and his trousers were torn behind. - -“My good lad, whatever has happened?” began the Doctor. “Don’t say you -have met with an accident? And yet your appearance--” - -“Nothing of the sort,” said Carlo, who soon found out the Doctor had a -weak place for him, owing to his being a lord’s son. “I’ve been -frightfully and cruelly mangled through no fault of my own; and I -believe some things inside me are broken too.” - -“Sit down, sit down, my unfortunate lad,” said the Doctor. Then he rang -the bell and told the butler to bring Viscount Westonleigh a glass of -wine at once. - -“It’s Tomlin done it,” said Carlo. “He came up behind me, and, before I -could defend myself, he trampled on me and tried to tear me limb from -limb. I’m not strong, and I may die of it. Anyway, he ought to be -expelled, and I’ll write to my father, the earl, about it, and he’ll -make the whole country-side resound if Tomlin isn’t sent away and his -character ruined.” - -“Hush, Westonleigh!” said the Doctor. “Have no fear that justice will -not be done, my boy. You shall yourself accuse Tomlin and hear what he -may have to say in defence.” - -Then Tomlin was sent for, and in about ten minutes came. - -“Is this true, boy Tomlin?” said the Doctor, putting on his big manner. -“One glance at your victim,” he continued, “furnishes a more conclusive -reply to my question than could any word of yours; nevertheless, I -desire to hear from your own lips whether Viscount Westonleigh’s -assertions are true or not.” - -“Don’t know what he’s asserted, sir,” said Tomlin, which was a smart -thing for a kid to say. “If he said I’ve licked him, it’s true, sir.” - -“That is what he _did_ assert, sir, in words chosen with greater regard -for my feelings than your own. And are you aware, George Tomlin, that -you have ‘licked’ one who, in the ordinary course of nature, and subject -to the will of an all-just, all-seeing Providence, will some day take -his seat in the House of Lords?” - -“I’ve heard him _say_ he will, sir,” answered Tomlin, as though no -statement of Carlo’s could be worth believing. - -“Don’t answer in that offensive tone, boy,” answered the Doctor, his -voice rising to the pitch that always went before a flogging. “If your -stagnant sense of right cannot bring a blush to your cheek before the -spectacle of your scandalous achievement, it will be necessary for -me--for me, your head-master, sir--to quicken the blood in your veins -and bring a blush to the baser extremity of your person. Some learn -through the head, George Tomlin; some can only be approached through the -hide; and with the latter category you have long, unhappily, chosen to -throw in your lot.” - -Tomlin said nothing, but looked at Carlo. - -“Before proceeding, according to my custom, I shall hear both sides of -this question--_audi alteram partem_, George Tomlin. Now say what you -have to say; explain why your lamentable, your unholy, your aboriginal -passions led you to fall upon Viscount Westonleigh from behind--to take -him in the rear, sir, after the unmanly fashion of the North American -Indian or other primitive savage.” - -“I didn’t take him in the rear at all, sir,” said Tomlin. “I stood right -up to him, and he said he wouldn’t fight a future hatter.” - -“A very proper decision, too, sir--a natural and wise decision,” -declared the Doctor. “Why should the son of Lord Golightly imbue his -hand in the blood of--I will not say a future hatter, for I yield to no -man in my respect for your father, Tomlin, and his business is alike -honorable and necessary; but why should he fight anybody?” - -“If he’s challenged he’s got to, sir, or else take a licking.” - -“No flippancy, sir!” thundered the Doctor again. “Who are _you_ to -announce the laws which govern the society of Merivale? Shall it be -possible in a Christian land, at a Christian college for Christian lads, -to find infamous boys with tigrine instincts parading the fold for the -purpose of smiting when and where they will? This, sir, is the very -apotheosis of savagery!” - -“I didn’t do it for nothing, sir,” said Tomlin. “I’m not going to sneak, -of course; but I--I licked Carlo for a jolly good reason, and he knows -what.” - -“Don’t know anything of the sort,” declared Carlo. “You flew at me like -a wolf from behind.” - -“That’s a good one,” answered Tomlin. - -“Anybody can see you did from the state I’m in,” said Carlo. - -“You two boys,” began the Doctor again, “though you know it not, stand -here before me as types of a great social movement, I may even say -upheaval. In the democratic age upon which we are now entering, we shall -find the Tomlins at war with the Westonleighs; we shall find the -Westonleighs disdaining to fight, and the Tomlins accordingly doing what -pleases them in their own brutal way. Now, here I find myself met with -statement and counter-statement. The indictment is all too clear against -you, boy Tomlin, for even the glass of old brown sherry which he has -just consumed fails to soothe your unfortunate victim’s nerve-centres. -He is still far from calm; his ganglions are yet vibrating. This work of -destruction was yours. You do not deny it, but you refuse any -explanation, making instead a vague and ambiguous reference to not -sneaking. No man hates the tale-bearer more than your head-master, sir, -but there are occasions when the school’s welfare and the protection of -our little commonwealth make it absolutely necessary that offences -should be reported to the ruler of that commonwealth. I have no -hesitation in saying that Westonleigh saw the present incident in this -light. He had no right to hush up the matter. Whatever his private -instincts towards mercy, his duty to his companions and to me, together -with a hereditary sense of justice and the fearless instincts of his -race, compelled him to come before me and report the presence of a young -garroter in our midst. I select the word, George Tomlin, and I say that, -having regard to the perverted, not to say inverted, sense of justice -and honor all too common among every community of boys, Westonleigh’s -act was a brave act. I accept his statement in its entirety; -consequently, Tomlin, you may join me this evening, at nine o’clock, -after prayers.” - -That meant a flogging, and Tomlin said, “Yes, sir,” and hooked it; but -the wretched Carlo thought he was going to hear Tomlin expelled. He -burst out and said as much, and the Doctor started as if a serpent had -stung him, and told Carlo to control the instinct of revenge so common -to all human nature, and explained that chaps were not expelled for -trifles. He reminded Carlo that Tomlin had an immortal soul like -himself, and seemed to imply that being expelled from Merivale would -ruin a chap’s future in the next world as well as this one. Finally, he -allowed Carlo, in consideration of the dressing he had got, to stop in -the playground that afternoon with a book. So the little skunk crept -off, shattered ganglions and all, pretending to walk lame; while the -Doctor, evidently much bothered altogether, took up our work where he -had left it. - - * * * * * - -Tomlin got flogged all right, and there the matter ended, excepting that -a lot of fellows sent Carlo to Coventry and called him “ant-fryer” from -that day. - -Then, within three weeks, came the Doctor’s howler, Steggles being -responsible. Steggles is a bit of a hound, but his cunning is wonderful. -As for the Doctor, he continued making much of Carlo and sitting on -Tomlin, till one day, going into chapel, he unexpectedly patted Tomlin -on the head. Tomlin was rather pleased, because he thought the Doctor -was relenting to him; but when Steggles heard of it he said: - -“Why, you fool, he thought he was patting Westonleigh!” - -Then, on an evening when Tomlin was cooking a sausage for me in the -Sixth’s class-room, he said: - -“Please, I should like to speak to you, if I may.” - -So I chucked work, and told him to say what he liked. - -“It’s only to show how things go against a chap, no matter what he -does,” said the kid. “This term I have been flogged for licking Carlo, -and caned three times since for other things, which were more bad luck -than anything else; and now I’ll be flogged again to-morrow for absolute -certain.” - -“Why?” - -“Well, it’s a jolly muddle. You know Steggles?” - -“Yes, you’re a fool to go about with him,” I said. - -“Perhaps I was. Anyway, Steggles and me made a plot to get some of the -medlars from the tree on the lawn, and we minched out after dark to do -it. They’re simply allowed to fall and rot on the ground, which is a -waste of good tuck, Steggles says. We went out about ten o’clock last -night, past Browne’s study window; and we looked in from the shrubbery -to see the window open, and soda-water and whiskey and pipes on the -table; but no Browne, strange to say. Then we sneaked on, and Steggles -suddenly heard something and got funky, but I kept him going. We reached -the tree and Steggles lighted his bull’s-eye lantern, so as to collect -the medlars, when suddenly out from behind the tree itself rushed a man. -We hooked it like lightning, naturally, and I never saw Steggles go at -such a pace in my life, and he stuck to his lantern, too; but I tripped -and fell, and before I could get up the man had collared me. If you’ll -believe it, the man was Browne! He asked me who the other chap was, and -I said I couldn’t be quite sure; so he told me to go back to bed, which -I did. That was last night; and the one medlar we had time to get -Steggles had eaten before I got back, which shows what Steggles is. -To-day Browne will tell the Doctor. He always chooses the evening after -prayers, so that he can work the Doctor up with his stories and get a -chap flogged right away; because it often happens when Doctor Dunston -says he’ll flog a chap next day he doesn’t do it.” - -“And what is Steggles going to do?” - -“He says he is watching events. He also says that Browne was certainly -stealing the Doctor’s medlars himself, and really we surprised him, not -he us; but, of course, Steggles says it’s no good my telling the Doctor -that. Steggles also says that he’s got an idea which may come to -something. I don’t know; but he’s a very cute chap. I’ve got to keep out -of the way after prayers to-night, and Steggles is going to watch -Browne. He won’t tell me his plan. I thought once that perhaps he meant -giving himself up for me, and I asked him, and he said I ought to know -him better.” - -Tomlin then cleared out, and as the Doctor took Slade and me for a short -Greek lesson every evening after prayers, because of special -examinations, I had the good luck to see the end of the business that -very night. - -We’d just got to work by the Doctor’s green-shaded reading-lamp when -Browne came in with his grovelling way, pretending he was awfully sorry -for having to round on Tomlin, but that his duty gave him no option, and -so on. - -“Last night,” he said, “I was sitting correcting exercises in my study -when I fancied I saw a form steal across the grass outside. Thinking -some vagabond might be in the grounds, I dashed out and followed as -quickly as possible. Presently I saw a light, and noted two figures -under the medlar-tree. Fearing they might be plotting against the house, -I went straight at them, and, to my astonishment, saw that they were -only boys. One darted away, and I failed to catch him; the other, I much -regret to say, was Tomlin.” - -That is how Browne put the affair. - -“Tomlin again!” exclaimed the Doctor. “Positively that boy’s behavior -passes the bounds of endurance.” - -“Yes, taking the medlars of one who has always treated him as you have. -I couldn’t trust myself to speak to him. He’s a very disappointing boy.” - -“He’s a disgraceful, degenerate, disreputable boy! I can forgive much; -but the stealing of fruit--and that _my_ fruit! Greediness, immorality, -ingratitude in the person of one outrageous lad! I thank you, Browne. -Yours was a zealous act, and argued courage of high order. Oblige me by -sending Tomlin hither at once. There shall be no delay.” - -Browne hurried off to find the wretched Tomlin; and Doctor Dunston, who -always had to work up his feelings before flogging a chap, snorted like -a horse, and took off his glasses, and went to the corner behind the -book-case where canes and things were kept. He seemed to forget Slade -and me, so we sat tight in the gloom outside the radius of light thrown -by the green-shaded lamp, and waited with regret to see Tomlin catch it. -The Doctor talked to himself as he brought out a birch and swished it -through the air once or twice. - -“Upon my soul,” he said, “Lord Golightly’s son was right. His knowledge -of character is remarkable in so young a lad. Tomlin will have to be -expelled; Tomlin must go; such consistent, such inherent depravity -appears ineradicable. Pruning is of no avail; the branch must be -sacrificed. My medlars under cover of darkness! And I would have given -them freely had he but asked!” - -He evidently wasn’t going to expel Tomlin this time, but he meant doing -all he knew with the birch; and as Tomlin was some while coming, the -Doctor’s safety-valves were regularly humming before he turned up. When -he did come he walked boldly in; and the Doctor, who had been striding -up and down like a lion at the Zoo, didn’t wait for any remarks, but -just went straight for him, seized him by the nape of the neck, nipped -his hand round his back--in a way he did very neatly from long -practice--and began to administer about the hottest flogging he’d given -to any boy in his life. - -“So--you--add--the--eighth--com--mand--ment--to--the--others--you--have--already--shattered--deplorable--boy!” -roared the Doctor, giving Tomlin one between each smack. -“You--would--purloin--steal--rob--the medlars--of your preceptor. -You would lead others--to--share--your--sin. You would -bring--tears--of--grief--to--a--good--mother’s--eyes!” - -Here the Doctor stopped a moment for breath, but he still held on to -Tomlin, who, much to my surprise, wriggled about a good deal. In fact, -he shot out his legs over and over again at intervals, like a -grasshopper does when it gets into the water; and when he got a chance -he yelled back at the Doctor: - -“It’s a lie--a filthy lie!” he shrieked out. “Beast--devil! Let me go! -Let me go! I never touched your rotten old medlars--oh!--oh!” - -Then the Doctor went off again. - -“Silence, miserable child! Cease your blasphemies. -Falsehood--will--not--save--you--now!” - -“I never touched them, I tell you, you muddle-headed old beast! You’re -killing me, and my father’ll imprison you for life for it. I wish they -could hang you. I’ll make you smart for this if you only live till I -grow up--devil!” - -But the Doctor had shot his bolt. He gave Tomlin a final smack, then -shook him off like a spider, picked up his mortar-board, which had -fallen off in the struggle, and put the birch in its place. - -“Now go, and don’t speak another word, or I shall expel you, wretched -lad!” - -Meantime Slade and I were fairly on the gasp, for from the time that -Tomlin, as we thought, had called the Doctor a devil we realized the -truth. Now his passion nearly choked him; he danced with pain and rage; -only when the Doctor took a stride towards him he opened the door and -hooked it. - -The Doctor puffed and grunted like a traction-engine trying to get up a -hill. - -“These are the black days in a head-master’s life, Slade,” he said. -“That misguided lad thinks that I enjoyed administering his punishment, -yet both mentally and physically the operation caused me far greater -suffering than it brought to him. I am wounded--wounded to the -heart--and the exertion causes and will cause me much discomfort for -hours to come, owing to its unusual severity. I may say that not for ten -years has it been necessary for me to flog a boy as I have just flogged -George Tomlin. Now let us proceed.” - -I couldn’t have broken it to him, but Slade did. He said: - -“Please, sir, it wasn’t Tomlin.” - -“Not Tomlin--not Tomlin! What d’ you mean, boy? Who was it, then?” said -the Doctor, his eyebrows going up on to his forehead, which was all -quite dewy from the hard work. - -“It was young Carlo--I mean Westonleigh,” said Slade. - -“Viscount Westonleigh!” gasped the Doctor, his mouth dropping right open -in a very rum way by itself, if you understand me. - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Then why in the name of Heaven didn’t you say so? How _dare_ you stand -there and watch me commit an offence against law and justice? How did -you dare to watch me ignorantly torture an innocent boy, and that boy-- -Go! go both of you--you, Slade, and you, Butler, also. Go instantly, and -send Browne and Viscount Westonleigh to me. Good God! this is -terrible--terrible!” - -So that was his howler, and to see him in his chair looking so old and -haggard and queer was rather frightful. He seemed suddenly struck with -limpness, and his hands shook like anything, and so did his bald head; -and he puffed as if he’d been running miles; and Slade said afterwards -that he looked jolly frightened too. He put his face in his hands as we -went out, and we heard him say something about Lord Golightly and ruin, -and universal opprobrium on his gray hairs, though really he had none -worth mentioning; and Slade said he almost thought the Doctor was -actually going to cry, if such a thing could be possible. - -We sent Browne off to him, but Carlo wasn’t to be found. He’d been seen -yelling somewhere, but couldn’t be traced. What had happened was this: -Tomlin, in obedience to Steggles, had kept rather close after prayers; -in fact, he had spent the half-hour to bed-time in a cupboard in the -gymnasium, under the rubber shoes. So Browne, not finding him, had told -the first boy he saw to do so; and that boy happened to be Steggles, who -had been at his heels ever since he went to the Doctor. Steggles is a -miserable, unwholesome thing, but his strategy certainly comes off. Once -having the message, all was easy, because Steggles merely found Carlo, -and told him the Doctor wanted him. The result was much better than even -Steggles hoped; because, though the Doctor generally fell on a chap who -came to be flogged straightaway, like he did on Carlo, it wasn’t often -anybody got such a frightful strong dose as Carlo had. Afterwards, when -taxed, Steggles swore, of course, that he thought he was talking to -Tomlin. Seeing the likeness, this might have been perfectly true, though -in their secret hearts everybody knew Steggles too jolly well to really -believe it. - -Carlo didn’t turn up, and after an hour or more of frantic rushing -about, somebody said perhaps he’d jumped down the garden well owing to -the indignity of what he’d got. But soon afterwards, in reply to a -special telegram sent for the Doctor by the people at the railway -station, an answer came from Golightly Towers, twenty miles off, where -the purple-veined lord, father of Carlo, hung out. The kid, it seemed, -had sloped down to Merivale railway station after his licking, and taken -a ticket right away for Golightly, and gone home by the last train but -one that night. He never returned either, but next day his father -dropped in on Doctor Dunston, and Fowle managed to hear a little of what -went on through the key-hole. He said that as far as he could make out -the lord didn’t think much of the matter, and said one thrashing more or -less wouldn’t mar Carlo. But the lord’s wife, who didn’t come, evidently -took the same view as Carlo, for he never returned to Dunston’s again. -The Doctor’s howler ended in his losing the little bounder altogether, -which, with his views about lords in general, and especially earls, must -have been frightfully rough on him. - -As to Tomlin, actually the Doctor never flogged him after all! I think -his spirit had got a bit broken, and though Tomlin went at the end of -the term, he wasn’t expelled, but withdrawn by mutual consent, like you -hear of things in Parliament sometimes. He wouldn’t have gone at all, -but he refused to say who was under the medlar-tree with him, and stuck -to it; and Steggles absolutely declined to give himself up, because, as -he truly said, he had more than kept his promise to Tomlin about helping -him out of the mess. - -So Tomlin went. He was a very decent little chap indeed, and nearly all -the fellows at Dunston’s promised faithfully to buy their hats entirely -at his place in Bond Street, London, when they left school; which will -be very good business for him if they do. As for the Doctor, it’s a -peculiar fact that for a whole term after Carlo’s affair he never -flogged a single chap. He didn’t seem to have any heart in him, somehow, -owing to the rum way the howler told upon his spirit. - - - - - Morrant’s Half-Sov. - - -Of course, as Steggles said truly, the rummest thing about the whole -story of Morrant’s half-sov. was that he should have one. Morrant, in -fact, never got any pocket-money in his life, owing to his father being -a gentleman farmer. Not that he had nothing. On the contrary, his -hampers were certainly the best, except Fowle’s, that ever came to -Dunston’s, both for variety and size and fruit. The farming business, -Morrant said, was all right from his point of view in the holidays, as -the ferreting, both rats and rabbits, was good enough for anything, and -three packs of hounds met within walking distance of his farm, one pack -being harriers, which Morrant, by knowing the country well, could run -with to a certain extent while they hunted. But Morrant’s father was so -worried about chemical manures and other farming things, including the -price of wheat, that he didn’t see his way to giving Morrant any -pocket-money. He explained to Morrant once that he was putting every -halfpenny he could spare into Morrant’s education, so as to save him -from having to become a gentleman farmer too when he grew up. - -But Morrant didn’t get a farthing in a general way; so when there -arrived a hamper with an envelope in it, and in the envelope a bit of -paper, and in the paper a half-sovereign, Morrant was naturally -extremely surprised and also pleased. It came from his godfather, who -had never taken any notice of Morrant for thirteen years, though he was -a clergyman. But the previous term Morrant had got a prize for Scripture -history, and when that came to his godfather’s ears, through Morrant’s -mother mentioning it in a letter, he wrote and said it was good news, -and very unexpected. So he sent the money; and really Morrant was quite -bewildered with it, being so utterly unaccustomed to tin even in the -meanest shape. - -He had a friend by the name of Ferrars, who was much more religious than -Morrant himself, and knew even more Scripture history; and as a first -go-off he asked Ferrars what he ought to do with the money. And Ferrars -said that before everything Morrant ought to give a tithe to charity. -But when it was explained to Morrant that this meant chucking away a -shilling on the poor, he didn’t take to the idea an atom. He said his -father had set him against giving tithes, not believing in them very -much. - -So Morrant went to Gideon, who knew much more about money than Ferrars, -and he said on no account to give a penny away in charity, because -Morrant wasn’t up in the subject, and might do more harm than good. He -also said that in the case of a chap who had never had a half-sovereign -in his life before, it was a great question whether he could be expected -to give away any; and Morrant said there was no question about it at -all, because he wasn’t going to. And it made even a difference in his -feeling towards Ferrars, for, as he very truly said, a chap who advised -him like Ferrars had couldn’t be much of a friend. - -Having decided to keep it, the point was what to do with it. The novelty -of the thing staggered him, and, knowing he would probably never have -another half-sovereign till he grew up, Morrant felt the awful -importance of spending it right, because an affair once bought could -never be replaced if lost. And, as Bray said, “If you get used to a -thing, like a watch-chain or a tie-ring, and then lose it, the feeling -you get is much worse than if you had never had it at all.” - -I thought about it too for Morrant, as he once sent me a brace of -rabbits by post, shot by himself in the holidays. I pointed out to him -that half a sovereign was a most difficult sum really, being, as it -were, not small and not exactly huge, and yet too much to make light of, -especially in Morrant’s case. If he had got a sovereign, for instance, -he might have bought a silver watch-chain to take the place of one which -he had. It was made of the hair of his grandmother when she was young, -and Morrant didn’t much like it, and had often tried to sell it and -failed. But ten bob wouldn’t buy a silver chain worth having. Morrant -had an idea about braces, and of course he might have bought such braces -for the money as would have been seldom seen and very remarkable; but -braces are a poor thing to put good money into, and I dissuaded him. - -There came a change in Morrant after he had had the half-sovereign for -four days and not thought of anything to buy. He began to worry, because -time was going on and nothing being done. Fellows gave him many ideas, -some of which he took for an hour or two, but always abandoned after a -while. Murray told him of a wonderful box of new conjuring tricks which -was to be had, and he nearly bought it, but luckily remembered just in -time that the new tricks would get old after a while, and some might be -guessed and would become useless. Then Parkinson had a remarkably -swagger paint-box, and knew where Morrant could get another with only -three paints less for ten shillings. And Morrant as near as a toucher -bought that, but happened to remember he couldn’t paint, and didn’t care -in the least about trying to. Corkey minimus said he would run the risk -and sell Corkey minor’s bat to Morrant for ten bob, the bat having cost -twelve. The bat was spliced and Corkey minor was in Australia, having, -luckily for him, sailed to sea just before an exam., owing to a weak -lung. If Morrant had played cricket he would certainly have bought the -bat; but there again, even though Gideon told him he might easily get -ten-and-six or eleven shillings for the bat next term, he hesitated, and -finally Gideon bought the bat himself--as an investment, he said. - -Well, there was Morrant stuck with his tin. He wouldn’t even change it, -because Gideon warned him against that, and told him his father knew men -who had made large fortunes simply by not changing gold when they had -it. Gideon said there was nothing like never changing gold; so Morrant -didn’t, only of course there was no good in keeping the money specially -stitched into a private and unknown part of his trousers, as he did, for -safety. - -That half-sovereign acted like a regular cloud on Morrant’s mind; and -then came an extraordinary day when it acted more like a cloud than -ever, owing to its disappearing. - -Morrant had sewn it, with a needle and thread borrowed from the -housekeeper, into a spot at the bottom of his left trouser-pocket, and -from this spot it mysteriously vanished in the space of two hours and a -half. He had changed in the dormitory for “footer,” and left his -trousers on his bed at three o’clock, returning to them at 4.45. Then, -naturally feeling for his half-sovereign, he missed it altogether, and -when he examined the spot he found his money had been cut out of the -bottom of the pocket with a knife. - -Very wisely Morrant, seeing what a tremendous thing had happened, did -not make a lot of row, but just told about ten chaps and no more. I was -one. My name is Newnes. I said: - -“The first question is, Who knew your secret hiding-place?” and Butler -said it was a very good question and showed sense in me. Butler is, of -course, high in the Sixth. - -Morrant, on thinking it over, decided that three chaps, or four at the -outside, knew his hiding-place. They were Ferrars, Gideon, Fowle, and, -Morrant thought, Phipps. So first Butler, who very kindly undertook the -affair for Morrant, had Phipps brought up. Phipps stammers even when -most calm and collected, and, being sent for by Butler, caused him so -much excitement that Butler made him write down the answers to his -questions, and even then Phipps lost his nerve so that he spelled “yes” -with two s’s. But he solemnly put down and signed that Morrant had never -told him where he kept his half-sovereign; and after he had gone Morrant -said that, now he came to think about it, he felt sure Phipps was right. -Which reduced the matter to Ferrars, Gideon, and Fowle; and the first -two were set aside by Morrant because Ferrars was, of course, his -personal friend, despite the passing coldness about Ferrars’ advice, and -Gideon, though very keen about money and a great judge of it, was known -to be absolutely straight, and had never so much as choused a kid out of -a marble. - -Butler said: - -“That leaves Fowle; and if you told Fowle you were a little fool.” - -And Morrant said: - -“We were both Roman Catholics by religion, and that makes a great tie; -and though many chaps hate Fowle pretty frightfully, I’ve never known -him try to score off me, except once, when he failed and apologized.” - -And Butler said: - -“That’s all right, I dare say; but he’s a little beast and a cur, and -also a sneak of the deadliest dye. I don’t say he’s taken the money, -because that’s a libel, and he might, I believe, go to law against me; -but I do say that only one out of three people could have taken it, and -we know two didn’t, therefore Q.E.D. the other must have.” - -Morrant didn’t follow this very clever reasoning on the part of Butler. -He only thought that Fowle, being a Roman Catholic, would never rob -another; and Butler said he would, because it wasn’t like Freemasons, -who wouldn’t score off one another for the world. He explained that -history was simply choked up with examples of Roman Catholics scoring -off one another. - -Butler said: - -“Religion’s quite different. One Buddhist is often known to have done -another Buddhist in the eye, so why shouldn’t one Roman do another? In -fact, they have thousands of times, as you’ll know when you come to read -a little history and hear about the Spanish Inquisition. Especially this -may have happened seeing that Fowle is the chap. I tell you candidly -that, in my opinion, after a good deal of experience of fellows in -general, I take Fowle to be the most likely boy in Merivale to have done -it; and knowing him to have had the secret of the private pocket reduces -it to a certainty in my mind. Tax him with it suddenly in the night, and -you’ll see.” - -Morrant slept in the same dormitory with Fowle, and that night the whole -room was woke up at some very late hour by the sound of Morrant taxing -Fowle. Fowle took a long time to realize what was being said, and when -he was awake enough to realize what Morrant was getting at, he showed -tremendous indignation, and asked what he had ever done that such a -charge should be brought against him, especially at such a time. He -reminded Morrant that they were of the same way of thinking in holy -affairs, and said he was extremely sick with Morrant, and thought -Morrant’s religion must be pretty rocky if it allowed him to wake a chap -up in the night and charge him with such a crime. In fact, Fowle went on -so that Morrant finally apologized rather humbly. - -From that day forward began the extraordinary disappearance of coin in -general at Dunston’s. Shillings constantly went, and also half-crowns. -Gideon got very excited about it, and said watches must be kept and -traps set. There was evidently a big robbery going on, and Gideon said -if the chaps weren’t smart enough to catch the thief they deserved to -lose their tin. Certainly he never lost a penny himself. But, despite -tremendous precautions, money kept going in small sums. Ferrars was set -to watch in the pavilion, I remember, during a football match, and -Morrant himself, and even Butler once or twice, also watched. Some chaps -thought it was the ground-man; but as money also disappeared at school, -that showed it couldn’t be him. And then there was a theory that it -might be a charwoman who came from Merivale twice a week. I believe she -was a very good charwoman of her kind, and Ferrars, who is great about -helping the poor and so on, told me she was a very deserving woman with -a husband at home who drank, and children too numerous to mention. Which -Gideon remembered against the charwoman when the money began to go, and -it turned his suspicion towards her, because, as he said, with the state -of her home affairs, money must be a great temptation. So a watch was -set on her, and a curious thing happened. - -Being small, I can get into a boot cupboard very easily, and I can also -breathe anywhere through a hole bored with a gimlet. This was done to -the door of the boot cupboard, and two other rather larger holes were -also made for my eyes. Mrs. Gouger, which was the charwoman’s name, had -to do a lot of work in this room--a large one leading out of the gym. -And there, on a certain half-holiday, I was watching her. - -She worked jolly hard as far as I could say, and made a good deal of -dust, and a curious noise through her teeth when she scrubbed, which I -thought only men did when they washed horses; but there was nothing -suspicious, if you understand me. She didn’t touch a coat or anything, -though many were hanging against a wall; and the few caps about she -merely picked up and hung on the pegs. - -Then, just before she finished, who should come in but Ferrars, and, to -my great astonishment, Mrs. Gouger courtesied to him as though he had -been the housekeeper or the Doctor. - -Ferrars treated her with great loftiness, and evidently knew all about -her private affairs. - -He said: - -“And how is the child that’s got mumps?” and she said it was better. He -then gave her some advice about her husband, which I didn’t hear, and -she blessed him for all his goodness to her, and said God had sent him -to a lone, struggling woman, and that he would reap a thousandfold what -he had sown. All of which, coming from Mrs. Gouger to Ferrars, seemed -very curious to me. Presently he said: - -“Well, I cannot stop longer. I’m glad the child is better. Keep on at -your husband about the pledge; and here’s a shilling.” - -Then Mrs. Gouger put the shilling in her pocket and blessed him again. -And Ferrars went. - -That very day young Forrest lost a shilling out of his desk, which -doesn’t lock, owing to Forrest having taken the lock off to sell to -Meadowes last term. - -I told Butler and Gideon what I had seen, and Butler thought it rum, and -Gideon said there was more in it than met the eye. - -Butler said: - -“Evidently the kid” (Ferrars is a kid from Butler’s point of view) “has -given the charwoman tin before, or else she wouldn’t have blessed him. -Now the question is, How much pocket-money does Ferrars get?” - -And I said: - -“A shilling a week.” - -“When does he get it?” - -“Mondays.” - -Butler said, “Ah!” but nothing seemed to strike him, and Gideon thought -that Mrs. Gouger ought to be spoken to. This Gideon undertook to do; and -the next week he did. What happened was that Mrs. Gouger said all that -she had before said to Ferrars about her husband and children, but added -that a young gentleman with a most Christian heart had lately interested -himself in her misfortunes. Gideon asked if it was a Dunston chap, and -Mrs. Gouger answered that she was not at liberty to say. She seemed -rather defiant about it, Gideon thought, and, in fact, when he pressed -her for the amount the chap gave her, she told Gideon to mind his own -business. A watch was still kept, especially on Ferrars; and once Butler -did an awfully cunning thing by setting Ferrars to watch and setting -another chap to watch Ferrars, if you follow what I mean. The other chap -was Butler himself, and the room was a dormitory. But it came out rather -awkwardly for Butler, because he sneezed at the very start, and Ferrars -got out from under the bed where he had arranged to watch, and found -Butler watching behind a coat against the wall. Then they had a row, -because Ferrars evidently thought Butler was there to watch him; which -he was. - -The end of the affair came out rather tame in its way, and only shows -what awfully peculiar ideas some chaps have. Gideon finally spoke to -Slade, the head of the school, and though Slade doesn’t like Gideon, -owing to his way of making money by usury, yet it was such a serious -affair that he listened all through and promised to go to the Doctor. -Gideon had actually kept an account of all the money stolen, and it -amounted now to the tremendous sum of four pounds five shillings and -sixpence, including Morrant’s half-sovereign. - -Then, after Dr. Dunston knew, we heard one day from Fowle that he had -sent for Mrs. Gouger to his study, and that she had been there fully -half an hour and come out crying. Fowle had listened as best he could -till the Doctor’s butler had come by and told him to hook it; but he had -heard nothing except one remark in the voice of Mrs. Gouger, and that -remark was, “Four pound five and sixpence, sir, and a godsend if ever -money was.” - -Gideon said her mentioning of the exact sum was a very ominous thing for -Ferrars. And what was more ominous still happened that evening, for -Ferrars wasn’t at prep. or prayers. - -There were a number of ideas about as to what it all meant, and Corkey -minimus, who always tries to get among chaps bigger than himself and say -clever things, came out with a theory that Mrs. Gouger was Ferrars’s -mother, and that Ferrars was therefore stealing and making the money -over to her. But Butler merely smacked his head when he heard it, and -told Corkey minimus not to be a little ass. - -Gideon was the only chap who hadn’t any idea. He knew Ferrars’s great -notions about helping the poor and giving tithes to parsons, and so on, -but he said for a chap to steal money and hand it over to a charwoman in -charity was contrary to human nature. All the same, if a thing actually -happens, it can’t be contrary to human nature. Anyway, after prayers -next morning the Doctor stopped the school in chapel and explained -everything. - -He said: - -"My boys, while it is true that you come to Merivale to be instructed -by me and those who labor here among you on my behalf, it is also true -that I learn occasionally from those whom I teach. Indeed, new -problems are almost as often set by you for my solution as by me for -yours, and seldom has a more intricate difficulty confronted me than -that which yesterday challenged my attention. There has recently -happened among us a mysterious disappearance of coins of the realm. -Now a shilling, a sixpence, a penny-piece, if deposited in one spot, -will usually remain there until removed by human agency. And the human -agent who removes money which belongs to another without that other’s -sanction is a thief. Boys, briefly there has been a thief among you--a -thief whose moral obliquity has taken such an extraordinary turn, -whose views of rectitude have become so distorted, that even my own -experience of school-boy ethics cannot parallel his performance. This -lad has looked around him upon the world, and found in it, as we all -must find, a vast amount of suffering and privation, of honest toil -and of humble heroism, displayed by the lowest among us. He has also -observed that Providence is pleased to make wide distinctions between -the rich and the poor; he has noted that where one labors for daily -bread another reaps golden harvests without the trouble of putting in -the sickle. This extraordinary boy contrasted the position of one of -these humble workers with that of those among whom his own lot was -thrown here, and he found that whereas that obscure but necessary and -excellent person, Mrs. Gouger, she whose duty it is to cleanse, scour, -and otherwise purify the disorder produced by our assemblies--he -found, I say, that whereas Mrs. Gouger worked extremely hard for sums -not considerable, albeit handsome in connection with the nature of her -labors, others of the human family--yourselves--were in receipt of -weekly allowances of varying amounts for which you toiled not, neither -did you spin. - -“This unhappy lad allowed his mind to brood on the apparent injustice of -such an arrangement, and instead of coming to his head-master for an -explanation of this and other problems which arose to puzzle his -immature intelligence, permitted himself the immoral, the scandalous, -the disgraceful and horribly mistaken course of righting the balance -from his point of view. This could only be effected by defiance of those -divine laws which govern all properly constituted bodies of human -society. Ferrars--I need not conceal his name any longer--Ferrars broke -one commandment in order to obey another. His fatuous argument, as it -was elaborated yesterday to me, stands based on error; his crime was the -result of the most complicated ignorance and vicious sophism it has ever -been my lot to discover in a boy of twelve. He did evil that good might -come. Ascertaining from the inspired Word that ’charity covereth a -multitude of sins,’ he imagined it must extend to cover that forbidden -by the Eighth Commandment. This commandment he broke no less than -fourteen times. You ask with horror why. That the domestic affairs of -Mrs. Gouger might be ameliorated. He took the pocket-money of his -colleagues, and with it modified those straits into which poverty and -conjugal difficulties have long cast Mrs. Gouger. It was Ferrars’s -unhappy, and I may say unparalleled, design to go on appropriating the -money of his school-mates until a sum of five pounds had been raised and -conveyed to Mrs. Gouger. Of this total, with deplorable ingenuity, he -had already subtracted from various pockets the sum of four pounds five -shillings and sixpence; it was his intention to continue these -depredations until the entire sum had been collected. But the end has -come. The facts have been placed before me, and I confess to you that -perhaps never have I been confronted with a problem more peculiar. After -a lengthy conversation with those who support me here, and after placing -the proposition before a higher tribunal than any which earth has to -offer, I have come to a curious decision. I have determined to leave the -fate of the boy Ferrars in your hands. This time to-morrow I shall -expect Slade, as representing the school, to inform me of your decision, -and to-day, contrary to custom, will be a half-holiday, that the school -may debate the question and conclude upon it. I would point out that -there is no middle course here, in my opinion. Either Ferrars must be -forgiven after a public apology to the establishment he has outraged, or -he must be expelled. As for the money, if those who have lost it will -apply to me between one and two o’clock to-day, each shall have his -share again.” - -Well, you may guess what a jaw there was that afternoon; and finally, -after hours of talk, Slade decided the point must be arranged by putting -papers into a hat. If you drew a cross on the paper it meant that you -wanted Ferrars to be expelled; and if you drew a naught, that meant he -was to be let off. You were not bound to say how you voted, and the -excitement when the votes were counted was something frightful. Ferrars -little knew what was going on. - -At last the numbers were read out: - - For expulsion 124 - Against expulsion 101 - -And Slade and Bradwell were mad when Slade read them, and said that -Merivale was disgraced. But Gideon and Butler and Ashby major and -Trelawny said not, and thought it wasn’t a case for anything but -justice. The Doctor made no remark when he heard what had happened, but -I heard him tell the new master, Thompson, a day afterwards that perhaps -the Lower School ought not to have been allowed to vote, as small boys -would merely have understood that Ferrars had stolen money and nothing -else. Their minds, the Doctor said, were not big enough to take in the -peculiar nature of the case. But Thompson said he honestly believed the -school was perfectly right, and that the subtleties of the case were not -for that court; and the Doctor sighed and said it might be so. - -Anyway, Ferrars went. We never saw him again, and the only cheerful -thing about the end of it was that Steggles was badly scored off. You -see he nipped off to the Doctor among the first, and said Ferrars had -stolen ten shillings from him too. But it happened that Ferrars had kept -the most careful account of all the money he had raised for Mrs. Gouger -and the people he had raised it from. But he had never taken a farthing -from Steggles. So Steggles was flogged by Mannering in his best form; -which shows that things which are frightfully sad in themselves often -produce fine results in a roundabout sort of manner. - - - - - The Buckeneers - - -Of corse even a kid can get a good idea sometimes, and Maine, who I was -fagging for, said afterwards that the idea was alright. Whether young -Bailey or me thort of it first I don’t know, but Maine lent me a book -about coarseers and buckeneers and such like people, and he said it was -a great life, though not much followed in present times. He was no good -for a coarseer himself, becorse the sea always made him dredfully bad, -and, besides, he was going to be a bushranger some day, being an -Australian and well up in it. But he said that Drake and Raleigh and -many other men in our English history were buckeneers of the dedliest -sort and had made England what it was; so me and Bailey thort a lot -about it and wished a good deal we could begin that sort of life. Bailey -said that in the books he’d read, if a boy began young, he was generally -a super cargo and went on getting grater and grater slowly; but I thort -boys began as cabin-boys and got grater very quickly by resquing people. -But Bailey said that was only in books, and that nobody got on quickly -at sea owing to the compettitishun. He did not much think there were any -buckeneers left, but Maine said there were, cheefly off the coast of -Africa, and that daring and dedly deeds were done in the Mediterranan to -this day. He said the lawlessness there was awful, and that nobodi knew -what went on along the north side of Africa in little bays and inletts -there not marked on maps. - -When Bailey herd that, he took more interest in it and wished he had -been born the son of a pirit insted of a doctor, because he said we -should have come eesily to it if our fathers had been in that corse of -life; but when I told Maine, he sed that the best and most splendid -pirits had had to overcome grate dificultees in their youth, and that it -was the pirit who began as a meer boy at school who often made the -gratest name. - -Bailey sed he was a pirit at heart, and I sed I was to; but not untell -we red a butiful book by Stevenson could we see any way to be one -reelly. Then we saw that we must go away from Merivale in secret--in -fact, we must fly; and Bailey sed it would have to be by night to avoid -capture, and Maine sed it was so. But it was a tremendous thing to do, -and I asked Bailey about his mother, and Bailey sed his mother would -blub a good deal at first, but she would live to be proud of him when -his name was wringing through England. And I felt the same in a way, -becorse, though I have got no mother to blub, I have got an uncle, who -is my gardian, and he is a lawer and a Conservitive who has tried to get -into Parleyment and failed. - -Then me and Bailey talked it out when chaps were asleep in our -dormitory, and the thing was what we should reelly and truly be, becorse -there were coarseers and buckeneers and pirits, and they all had their -own pekuliar ways. So we asked Maine which was best, and he sed -“buckeneers.” He didn’t seem to know exacktly what a coarseer was; but -he told us all about pirits, and he sed they kill womin and childrin, -and Bailey said he’d rather be a docter, like his father, than do that, -and I said the same. But a buckeneer is very diferent, being like -Raleigh and Drake; and a buckeneer may have his name wringing through -England, but a pirit never has, being rather a beast reelly. Maine sed -it was like this: a pirit always thinks of himself, and nobody else; but -the best sort of buckeneer thinks of himself, of corse, but thinks of -his country to; and after he has replennished his coffers he makes his -soverein a present of islands, and so on, which are gennerally called -after him, so that his name may never be forgottun. And Bailey sed that -was the sort he wanted to be, and I sed so to. - -We thanked Maine a good deal, and he sed it was a big idea for such kids -as us to get, and hoped we were made of the right stuff, and promised -not to say a word to a soul. And we finally desided to try it, and -Bailey sed we must have a plan of ackshun; so we made one. - -He said we must run away and work gradully by night to the coast and go -to Plymouth, and get into the docks, and find a ship bound for the north -coste of Africa. I asked him what next, and he sed, very truly, that -that was enuff to begin with, and that by the time we had done that much -manny adventures would have fallen to our lot, and we might alredy be in -the way to become buckeneers. And I sed I hoped we should make freends -at sea; but he sed the fewer freends we made the better buckeneers we -should probbably be, because it is not a life where you can make freends -safely. In fact, no reel buckeneer would trust his own brother a yard. -And I sed that we must trust one annuther at any rate. And Bailey sed, -as far as that went, he supposed we must; but he sed it relluctantly. - -The thing was then to save up for the diferent weppons. Maine sed we -shouldn’t want arms, and that money was all we should require till we -got down south; but Bailey felt sure we must at leest have pistells, -becorse in books the man armed to the teath is never mollested if people -know, but the unarmed man often looses his life for want of a weppon. We -had one shilling pocket-money a week each, and Bailey getting a -birthday, very fortunately, made a whole pound by it after we had been -saving for three weeks. So between us we suddinly had one pound six -shillings, and Bailey sed it was share and share alike for the present, -and always would be unless some dedly hatred sprang up between us. And I -sed it never would; but he sed it might, and if it did, it would -probabbly be about a girl if books were true. And I larfed, becorse we -both have a grate contemp for all girls. - -Well, things went alright, and on a half-holiday we managed to get to -Merivale and buy pistells. They were five shillings and sixpence each, -and the man didn’t seem to much like selling them; but we got them, and -amunition--fifty rounds each. And Bailey sed that would be enough. Maine -sed they were very good pistells for close work, but advised us never to -use them unless in soar straights. And we sed we wouldn’t. - -It was the day of the menaggeree at Merivale that me and Bailey finally -took the grate step of going. We had collected a lot of food, and -studdied geography so as to get to Plymouth, and we arranged that we -should travel by night and hide by day in the hart of impennetrable -woods, which we did. After the menaggeree, at a certain point on the way -home, we slipped it round a corner, and Thompson didn’t see us, and in a -breef time we were at the edge of Merivale Woods, free. - -“To-night,” Bailey sed, “we will get across this forest and do eight or -ten miles along the high-road, and so reach Oakshott Woods at dawn. They -are on the edge of the moor and quite impennetrable.” - -So we got well into Merivale Woods first and made a lair of braken under -a fir-tree. And we cut off some of the fir-tree bark and licked the sap, -which is very nourishing and feeding, because we wanted to save our food -as much as possible. But we had each a cold sorsage and a drink of -water. And then night came on, and I felt, for the first time, that we -had done a tremendous deed. - -“We’re fairly started,” I sed to Bailey. “It’s just call over at -Merivale now.” - -And he sed, “Yes; if the fellows in the upper third could only see us!” - -I sed, “It’s a small begenning.” - -And he sed, “It is; but if things go rite, and we are made of the -propper stuff for buckeneers, we’ll make England wring yet.” - -Then it began to rain rather hard, and I found that a wood isn’t really -a dry place by night if it rains, and Bailey lighted a match, and sed it -was nearly nine. - -“That’ll mean ‘lights out’ at Merivale,” he sed; “but for us it’ll mean -the begenning of the night.” - -I sneazed just about then, becorse water from the fir-tree was dropping -down my neck rather fast, and Bailey sed if I was going to get annything -the matter with me I had better go back at once, becorse no buckeneer -ever had a cold, being men of steel and iron. And I sed a sneaze was -nothing. - -Then we started very corsiously through the wood, and Bailey cocked his -pistell, and I asked him kindly to walk in front, feeling a curious -sensashun when he walked behind me with his pistell cocked. I told him, -and he sed it was fear, but I sed it was kaution. - -Sometimes he whispered, “Cave!” and we sunk down and got fritefully -dripping in the wet, but nothing happened, and we were getting well on -through the wood when Bailey sed, “Cave!” again, and this time, when we -had sunk down, we distinkly herd a footstep, and Bailey sed it was our -first adventure, and I sed I wished it had come by daylight, becorse it -wants grate practise to face adventures in the dark at first. - -Anyway the noise got nearer and got louder, and Bailey and me both -cocked our pistells, and he sed, “Reserve your fire to close range,” and -I sed, “Yes.” Then he sed, “I see the thing. It’s bigger than a beast -you would expect in an English wood”; and I sed, “I have got a sort of -fealing it is something out of the menaggerie”; and he sed, “Then it -will be a real adventure, and I wish we were up trees.” - -But it was to late, and something went quite close. I sore a red spark, -and Bailey sed, “Fire!” which we did. At leest my pistell went off with -fereful effect; but Bailey’s didn’t, and he sed afterwards that he’d -make the pistell man biterly rew the day he sold him a treecherous -weppon. - -But after I fired we herd a human voice, and it sed, “Hell!” Then it sed -other fearful words, which Bailey sed we ought to remember because they -were buckeneering words curiously enuff. And then the man dashed towards -us, which showed I had not slain him, or even hit him in a vittle spot; -and we fled, and soon we found that we had distanced him, though we had -a squeek for it. - -“He was a keeper,” sed Bailey, “and he will think we were poachers, and -raise a hue-and-cry. We must keep on and get into Oakshott Woods, or we -shall very likely have to yield to supereer force.” - -After this eksitement I got a curious feeling in my stomach, and telling -Bailey, he sed it was either hunger or fear. And I sed it was hunger; -but Bailey sed, seeing what a hevy meal we had made with sorsage and -bred and turpentine juice only two hours before, that it was fear. - -I sed if he thought so he’d better go on without me, as I hadn’t taken -to this corse of life to be cheeked by him. And he sed he was leeder of -the gang, and I was the gang, and the first thing was to lern to obey -orders. And then I got rather cross with Bailey, and asked him who he -thort he was to give me orders, and reminded him my pistell could go off -anyway, which was more than his could. This worried him a good deal, -becorse, of course, the man whose pistell went off had the best of it. -Then he sed that it was no good having a quarrel between ourselves while -we were not yet out of danger. He also said that he beleeved we might -venture to take one hour’s sleep to strengthen us before getting on to -Oakshott, and I sed, “Yes,” but thought that one of us ought to watch -while the other slept. Bailey said he would watch first, and he sed also -that we might get to the woodman’s hut in the middle of Merivale Woods -if we kept on past a ded fir-tree with its stem white, becorse all the -bark was off, which we did, becorse the moon was now shining very -britely, and the rain had stopped. The cold was also friteful, and my -teath chattered once or twice, but I broke sticks and things to attract -Bailey, becorse if he had herd my teath he would have sed it was fear -again. - -Once a bough jumped back and hit Bailey a friteful smack in the face, -and I was glad, and he sed he rather thort his eye was done for; and he -sed it didn’t much matter if it was, so long as he had one good eye to -see with, becorse most buckeneers lost an eye sooner or later, though -generally with a stroak from a cutlass. - -We found the hut, and there was some dry fern in it, and we lighted a -candle-end we had, and took off our boots, and wrung out our socks, and -each had half a currant dumpling. Then Bailey looked at his watch and -sed I might turn in for half an hour. Then he would wake me and turn in -for half an hour himself. He went on gard with another candle-end, and -advised me to draw my pistell and sleep with it cocked under my head. -But I sed I never herd of such a dangerous thing as that being done, and -kept my pistell reddy cocked near my hand. I didn’t fall off to sleep, -as I expected, owing to anxiaty as to our fate, but I shut my eyes and -thort a good deal, and after my eyes had been shut some time I opened -one a little and was grately surprised to see Bailey coming towards me -steelthily. He had his pistell in his hand, and first I had a horrible -thort he wanted to kill me, so that he mite have all our food and money; -and then I felt sure he was coming to change pistells, so that he might -have the one that went off. This made me get in a friteful wax with him, -becorse I saw he was very unreliable and not reely as much of a chum as -I had thort. So I waited untill I saw him stretch out his hand for my -pistell, and then I leapt at his throat in a very ferocious way, that -much surprized him. I also sed “Hell!” like the keeper had. - -It must have been a solumn site by the lite of the candle-end when we -began to fight tooth-and-nail for the pistell which could go off. We -were both desperet, and it was reelly a battle to deside which should be -the leeder of the enterprise and which should be merely the gang. Then, -while we wresled and straned every nerve, a curious thing happened, for -we fell against the candle-end, stuck on the top of a stick, and the -candle-end fell against the side of the hut, and the hut, being made of -wood, with walls of dried heather, was very inflameable and cort fire -almost immediately. - -And then Bailey sed we must aggree to settle our dispute later on and -fli at once. So we each took our own pistell, and were just going to -leave the scene, when, to our grate horror, we herd voices, and among -them the voices of Browne and Mainwaring, who were, of corse, -house-masters at Merivale. - -Exhorsted though we were, me and Bailey made a terrible effort to -escape, and I think we mite have done so even then, but, oweing to the -moon and two other men who were with Mainwaring, we could not reach an -impennetrable part of the wood, and finally Mainwaring cort me, and a -man cort Bailey, and they dragged us into the light of the blazing ruins -of the hut, and we found out that Browne and Mainwaring had come after -us, like beestly blood-hounds, and had met the keeper, who told them he -had been fired upon, and then the unfortunate burning of the hut had -directed their steps towards us. And it’s a lesson in a way, showing -what risks it is for buckeneers to fall out among themselves at kritikal -moments. - -Of corse we had to walk back merely as prisoners of Mainwaring, but -Bailey told me not to answer questions and rather let them cut our -tongues out than know the truth. So they didn’t get anything out of us, -and when we got back, at two o’clock in the morning, Dunston was up to -meet us; and by that time, what with cold and bruises and the failure of -the skeem, I wasn’t equal to defying Dunston, and merely sed we wanted -to change our corse of life for something different, and had started to -do so. And I also sed that burning the hut was an axsident which might -have happened to anybody. And Bailey sed the same. - -Then Doctor Dunston sent for the matron, and we had brandy-and-water and -a hot bath, which was very refreshing to me, but Bailey sed biterly when -he was in it that he had thought that morning never to have had a bath -again. He also sed we should be put in sepperate bedrooms that night, -and that if either of us got an opportunety to eskape, it was his duty -to reskue the other. But I sed I didn’t want to eskape, being fritefully -sleepy and exhorsted, and I sed that if he eskaped he needn’t trubble to -reskue me, becorse if I returned again to being a buckeneer it certinnly -wouldn’t be with him. - -I didn’t see any more of him until next day; then we were taken in like -prisinners of war before the school, and Doctor Dunston lecktured upon -us as if we were beests of pray, and he sed that a corse of falty -literatuer was to blame for our running away, and sed that the school -liberary must be reformed. But he never knew the grate truth, becorse he -sed we were onley running away to sea becorse of the fascenation of the -ocean to the British karacter, when reely it was to be buckeneers and -the terrer of the Mediterranan. - -Maine showed us all the points we had done wrong afterwards, and he sed -the way we had fought for the best pistell was very interesting to him -and a grate warning not to trust in your fellow-creetures. And, after he -had lecktured upon us, Doctor Dunston flogged me and Bailey in publick, -which showed the stuff we were made of, becorse, though Bailey gets very -red when flogged, he has never been known to shedd a tear; and I get -very white, curiously enuff; but I have never been known to shedd a tear -either. - - THE END - - Transcriber’s Note - -The text at times uses a semi-literate narrator’s voice and spelling. -Only two obvious punctuation errors have been corrected. The references -here are to the page and line in the original. - - 198.18 in a cupboard in the gymnasium[./,] under the Replaced. - rubber shoes. - - 201.10 flogged a single chap[,/.] Replaced. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Human Boy, by Eden Phillpotts - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMAN BOY *** - -***** This file should be named 54270-0.txt or 54270-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/2/7/54270/ - -Produced by KD Weeks, MWS and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Human Boy - -Author: Eden Phillpotts - -Release Date: March 2, 2017 [EBook #54270] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMAN BOY *** - - - - -Produced by KD Weeks, MWS and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>Transcriber’s Note:</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Please consult the <a href='#endnote'>note</a> at the end of this text for -a discussion of any textual issues encountered in its preparation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was fabricated from the title page and is -placed in the public domain.</p> - -<div class='htmlonly'> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='xlarge'>THE HUMAN BOY</span></div> - <div class='c001'>BY</div> - <div class='c002'><span class='large'>EDEN PHILLPOTTS</span></div> - <div class='c002'>AUTHOR OF “CHILDREN OF THE MIST”</div> - <div>“FOLLY AND FRESH AIR” ETC.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i_titlepage.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div class='c001'>HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS</div> - <div><span class='large'>NEW YORK AND LONDON</span></div> - <div><span class='large'>1900</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>TO</div> - <div class='c002'><span class='large'>PHILLPOTTS “MINOR”</span></div> - <div class='c002'>AS A TRIFLING TRIBUTE OF FRATERNAL REGARD</div> - <div>AND IN GREEN AND GRATEFUL MEMORY OF</div> - <div class='c002'><span class='large'>OUR HAPPY BOYHOOD</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c003'>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary=''> -<colgroup> -<col width='83%' /> -<col width='16%' /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class='c004'> </td> - <td class='c005'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>The Artfulness of Steggles</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>The Protest of the Wing Dormitory</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_23'>23</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>“Freckles” and “Frenchy”</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_47'>47</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>Concerning Corkey Minimus</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_69'>69</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>The Piebald Rat</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_94'>94</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>Browne, Bradwell, and Me</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_115'>115</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>Gideon’s Front Tooth</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_133'>133</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>The Chemistry Class</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_150'>150</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>Doctor Dunston’s Howler</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_171'>171</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>Morrant’s Half-Sov</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_202'>202</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><span class='sc'>The Buckeneers</span></td> - <td class='c005'><a href='#Page_226'>226</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div> - <h1 class='c006'>The Human Boy</h1> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span> - <h2 class='c003'>The Artfulness of Steggles</h2> -</div> -<h3 class='c007'>I</h3> - -<p class='c008'>I remember the very evening he came -to Merivale. “Nubby” Tomkins had -a cold on his chest, so Mathers and I -stopped in from the half-hour “kick-about” -in the playground before tea, being chums -of Nubby’s. Whenever he gets a cold on -the chest he thinks he is going to die, -and this evening, sitting by the fire in the -Fifth’s class-room, he roasted chestnuts for -Mathers and me, and took a very gloomy -view of his future life.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“As you know,” he said, “I hate being -out of doors excepting when I can lie about -in hay. And to make me go out walking -in all weathers, as they do here, is simply -murder. I know what’ll be the end of -it. I shall get bacilluses or microbes into -<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>some important part of me, and die. It’s -like those books the Doctor reads to the -kids on Sundays, with choir-boys in them. -The little brutes sing like angels, and their -voices go echoing to the top of cathedrals, -and make people blub about in the pews. -Then they get microbes on the chest, and -kick. You know the only thing I can do -is to sing; and I shall die as sure as mud.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Nubby was a corker at singing. He had -all the solos in the chapel to himself, and -people came miles to hear him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You won’t die,” said Mathers. “You -don’t give your money away to the poor, -or help blind people across roads, and all -that. Your voice’ll crack, and you’ll live.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I wish it would,” said Nubby; “I should -feel a lot safer.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mine,” continued Mathers, “cracked -when my mustache came.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>We looked at him as he patted it. Mathers -was going next term. He had more -mustache than, at least, two of the under-masters, -and once he let Nubby stroke it, -and Nubby said he could feel it distinctly -under the hand.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>“That’s what’s done it with M.,” said -Nubby, looking at Mathers and opening another -gloomy subject.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mathers got redder, and began peeling a -chestnut.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I wish I was as certain as you,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“None of us can be certain,” I said; -“but if your voice did go, Nubbs, you’d be -out of the hunt for one.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am,” declared Nubby. “Last time I -had a cold in the throat she sent me a little -bunch of grapes by Jane, and a packet of -black currant lozenges; but this time, -though the attack is on my chest, and I -may die, she hasn’t sent a thing.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Perhaps she doesn’t know.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She does. I met her going into the library -yesterday, and I doubled up and -barked like a dog, and she never even said -she was sorry. It lies between you two -chaps now.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I believe you are going strongest just -at present,” said Mathers, critically, to me. -“You came off last Wednesday and kicked -two goals on your own, and she said afterwards -to Browne that she never saw you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>play a bigger game. Then that little beast--Browne, -I mean--sniggered, and made -that noise in his throat, like a sprung bat, -and said he was quite glad he hadn’t kept -you in. That’s how he shows M. what a -gulf there is even between the Fifth and -masters.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The bigger the gulf the better,” I said. -“It would be rough on a decent worm to -put it second to Browne. In my opinion -even a Double-First would be nothing if he -wore salmon-colored ties and elastic-sided -boots; and Browne isn’t a Double-First by -long chalks. He can only teach the kids, -and his desk is well known to be crammed -with cribs of every kind.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the matter of M., I may say at once that -she was Milly, Doctor Denham’s youngest -daughter--twelve and a half, fair, blue eyes, -and jolly difficult to please. Somehow the -Fifth always drew her most. The Sixth were -feeble beggars at that time. Two of the ten -wore spectacles, and one was going out to -Africa as a missionary, and used to treat the -Fifth’s class-room as a sort of training-ground -for preaching and doing good. He was called -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>Fulcher, and the spirit was willing in him, -but the flesh was flabby. We used to assegai -him with stumps, and pretend to scalp him -and boil him and eat him. He said he should -glory in martyrdom really; and Nubbs, who -knows a good deal about eating, used to write -recipes for cooking Fulcher, and post them -to imaginary African kings. But I should -think that to be merely eaten is not martyrdom, -properly speaking. If it is, then everything -we eat, down to periwinkles, must be -martyrs; which is absurd, like Euclid says.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, it got to be a settled idea at Merivale -that M. cared, in a sort of vague way, -for either Nubby, or Mathers, or me, or all -of us. The situation was too uncertain for -anything like real jealousy among us; besides, -we were chums, and had no objection -to going shares in M.’s regard. At football -Mathers and I fought like demons for -Merivale and for M.’s good word; but any -impression we might make was generally -swept away in chapel by Nubby when Sunday -came. He could sing, mind you. It -was like cold water down your spine, and all -from printed music. Besides, he could be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>ill, which gave him a pull over Mathers and -me, who couldn’t. To look at, Nubby was -nothing. He had big limbs, but they were -soft as sausages. If you punched him he -didn’t bruise yellow and afterwards black, -but merely turned red and then white again. -Mathers, besides being captain of the First -Footer eleven, had nigger hair, that girls -always go dotty about, and black eyes, and -pretty nearly as much mustache as eyebrow. -As for me, my biceps were the biggest in the -lower school, which isn’t much, of course; -but things like that tell with a girl.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then it was that conversation turned on -Steggles. He was a new boy, due that afternoon. -Hardly had the name passed my lips -when the door opened, and the Doctor’s head -appeared. The next moment a chap followed -him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah! there are some of the fellows by -the fire,” said the Doctor. “Is that you, -Tomkins? But I needn’t ask.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, sir,” said Nubby, rising.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are ill-advised, Tomkins, to spend -the greater part of your leisure sitting, as -you do, almost upon the hob. A constitutional -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>weakness is thereby increased. This -is Steggles. You will have time for a little -conversation before tea.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Doctor disappeared, and Steggles -came slowly down the room with his hands -in his pockets. There was nothing to indicate -a new boy about him. He had red rims -to his eyes and a spot or two on his face, -chiefly near his nose and on his forehead; -his hair was sandy, and he wore a gold watch-chain.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’re called Steggles, aren’t you?” -said Nubby, who was an awfully civil chap -in his manners.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, I hope you’ll like Merivale.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“All right in summer-time when there’s -hay. Hate it when I’m ill, which I am now.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What can you do?” asked Mathers in -his abrupt way.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I can draw,” said Steggles.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Devils.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do one,” said Mathers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He got a piece of <em>Cambridge demi</em> and a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>pen and ink. Then Steggles, evidently anxious -to please, sat down, and did as good a -devil as ever I saw. Nubby and I were -greatly pleased.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What else can you do?” said Mathers, -as if such a power to draw devils wasn’t as -much as you could expect from one chap.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I can smoke.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Cigarettes? So can anybody.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No; a pipe.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh! where did you learn that?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“At Harrow.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Steggles started like a guilty thing -and put his hand over his mouth--too late. -A rumor we had heard was proved true.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It would have been sure to get out, and -I don’t care who knows it, for that matter,” -said Steggles, defiantly. “I had to leave -there because I didn’t know enough, and -couldn’t get up higher in the school. I’m -rather backward through not being properly -taught. The teaching at Harrow’s simply -cruel. Not but what I’ve taught myself a -thing or two, mind you. I’m fifteen.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He looked at us out of his red-rimmed -eyes, and put me in mind of a ferret I’ve -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>got at home. He might have been any age -up to twenty, I thought.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Can you play anything?” asked Mathers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The piano.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mathers shivered and Nubby grew excited.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So can I. We’ll do duets,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If you like,” said Steggles.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then the tea-bell rang.</p> - -<h3 class='c007'>II</h3> - -<p class='c008'>Whole books might be written about -Steggles at Merivale. I heard Thompson -say, after he had been there a week, that it -wasn’t what he didn’t know had rendered -it necessary for Steggles to leave Harrow, -but what he did know. Certainly he had -a great deal of general information about -rum things. He got newspapers by post -concerning sporting matters; he knew an -immense deal about dogs and horses; and -Nubbs, who was a judge, said his piano-playing -surpassed his devil-drawing for sheer -brilliance. Yet, with all these accomplishments, -he only managed to get into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>Fourth. As to his smoking, it was certainly -wonderful. And he ate things afterwards -to hide the smell. He had a genius for -wriggling out of rows and for getting them -up between other fellows. He loved to look -on at fighting and knew all the proper rules. -On the whole he was rather a beast, and, if -it hadn’t been for Nubby, Mathers and I -should have barred him. But all I’m going -to tell about now is the hideous discovery -of Steggles and M., and the thing that happened -on the day of the match with Buckland -Grammar School.</p> - -<p class='c000'>M. had been very queer for a fortnight--queer, -I mean, with all three of us--which -was unusual. Then, seeing how the cat had -taken to jumping, I tackled her one morning -going through the hall to the Doctor’s -study.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How d’you like Steggles?” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very well. He’s clever,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He’s fifteen,” I said; “he ought to -know something if he’s ever going to. He’s -only in the Fourth, anyway.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’re jealous and so is Mathers,” she -said.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>“Jealous of a chap with ferret-eyes! Not -likely,” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are, though.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not more than Nubbs and Mathers, anyway,” -I said. “It’s off with the old friends -and on with the new, I suppose.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Steggles knows how to treat a girl. You -might learn manners from him, and so might -the others,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And also the piano, perhaps?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He plays beautifully.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Have you seen him play football?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Lucky for you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Football isn’t everything.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, not since he came; I’ve noticed that.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>This bitter speech stung M., and her eyes -jolly well flashed sparks.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nor singing either,” I went on. “Nubbs -nearly burst himself last Sunday in chapel; -and all the time you were watching Steggles -making a rabbit with his pocket-handkerchief.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ll thank you not to interest yourself in -me any more,” she said, “either in chapel -or out of it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>“All right. I dare say I shall still live,” -I said. “Does that remark apply equally -to Mathers and Nubby, or only to me?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“To Mathers, yes,” she said. “He’s as -bad as you are. Not to Nubbs.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then she went.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, there it stood. When I told them -Mathers seemed to think I needn’t have -dragged him in, and Nubbs got clean above -himself with hope, not seeing that he was -really just as much out of it as us. Of -course we chucked Steggles for good and all -then, and told him what we thought of him. -That was when he said something about only -the brave deserving the fair, and Mathers -made him sit down in a puddle for cheeking -him in the playground. Steggles’s eyes -looked like one of his own devils while he -sat there, but he took it jolly quietly at the -time. That got Nubby’s wool off though, -because he supported Steggles, and things -were, in fact, rather difficult all round till -the day of the Buckland Grammar School -match. Buckland was two miles from Merivale, -and most of the team went by train; -but Mathers and I, the day being fine, decided -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>to walk; and at the last moment Nubbs -asked if he might come with Steggles.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Out of consideration for Nubby we agreed, -and the four of us started on a fine bright -afternoon just after dinner. Mathers and I -had our football things on, of course; Nubbs -was dressed in his usual style, and Steggles, -who used to get himself up tremendously -on half-holidays, wore yellow spats over his -boots, and a sort of white thing under his -waistcoat, and gloves. We had rather more -than half an hour’s walk before us, and hardly -were we out of sight of Merivale when -Steggles pulled out his pipe and lighted it.</p> - -<h3 class='c007'>III</h3> - -<p class='c008'>The artfulness of Steggles properly begins -here. He knew several things we didn’t. -He knew, for instance, that M. was coming -to the football match, that she was going to -ride her bicycle over on the road by which -we walked, that only the day before he had -quarrelled with her, and that his position -with regard to her was at that hour most -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>risky. All these things Steggles well knew, -and we didn’t. So he lighted his pipe with -an air of long practice. The smell was fine, -and he smacked his lips now and then.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nice pouch?” he said, handing me a -velveteen pouch with his initials on it in -green silk.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ll bet a girl did that,” said Mathers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s a secret,” said Steggles, smiling to -himself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then he asked very civily if we would care -to join him, explaining that he generally -kept a few spare pipes about him for friends.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I would if it wasn’t for the match,” said -Mathers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So would I,” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, my baccy might turn you fellows -up. Perhaps you are wise,” declared Steggles, -puffing away. Then he tried Nubby -with a little cherry-wood pipe, and Nubbs -thought a whiff or two wouldn’t hurt him -and began rather nervously, but gathered -courage as he went on.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I heard my father say once that life without -tobacco would be hell,” said Steggles; -“and I agree with him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>“So do I; it’s very soothing,” said -Nubby.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Mathers burst out. He had been -sulking ever since Steggles hinted that the -contents of his velveteen pouch were too -strong for us.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If you think I funk your tobacco you’re -wrong,” Mathers said. “I’ve smoked three -parts of a cigar before to-day.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A chocolate one, perhaps?” said Steggles, -but in such a humble, inquiring voice -that Mathers couldn’t hit him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, a tobacco one; and if you’ve got -another pipe I’ll show you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So will I,” I chimed in. Mathers’s lead -was always good enough for me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Steggles immediately lugged out two more -pipes. He seemed to be stuffed with them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Get it well alight at the start,” he explained, -handing a fusee.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“All right, all right, I know,” said Mathers. -Soon we were at it like four chimneys, -and Steggles praised us in such a way that -we could take no offence.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’ve all smoked many a time and oft, -I can see that,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>Mathers spat about a good deal, and fancied -tobacco was probably a fine steadier for -the nerves before a football match; and -Nubbs said he thought so too; and he also -thought that after a little smoking one -didn’t want to talk, but ought just to keep -quiet and think of interesting things.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It widens the mind,” said Steggles.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We tramped on rather silently for ten -minutes till Nubbs spoke again. To our -surprise his hopeful tone had changed, and -we found he had turned a sort of putty-color, -with blue lips. He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ll overtake you fellows. I think I’ve -got--I’ve got a bit of a sunstroke or something. -It’ll pass off, no doubt.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Better not smoke any more,” said Steggles.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It isn’t that, but I won’t, all the same. -I’ll just dodge through that hole in the -hedge and find some wild strawberries or -hazel-nuts, or something.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Seeing it was a frosty day in December -Nubby’s statements looked wild. But he -went. There was a hole in the hedge, with -tree-roots trailing across it, and Nubbs -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>crawled shakily through, like a wounded -rabbit, into a place where a board was stuck -up saying that people would be prosecuted -according to law if they went there. But -he didn’t seem to care, though it wasn’t a -thing he would have done in cold blood. I -saw Mathers grow uneasy in his mind.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Wasn’t the pipe--eh?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, no. This tobacco--why, a child -could smoke it,” said Steggles. “You know -what Nubbs is. It’s only an excuse to turn. -He hates football and hates walking.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>We kept on again, and I began to feel a -slight perspiration on my forehead and a -weird sort of feeling everywhere. I had -smoked about half the pipe.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I sha’n’t go on with this now because of -the match,” I said, hastily knocking out the -remaining tobacco and handing his loathsome -little clay back to Steggles.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why!” he said, “blessed if you haven’t -gone the same color as Nubbs did! Don’t -say you’ve got a sunstroke too?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was something in the voice of Steggles -I didn’t much like, but I hardly felt -equal to answering him then.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>“You’re all right, anyway, aren’t you, -Mathers?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Of course I am. What the dickens d’ -you mean?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nothing. Glad you like my baccy. -There’s plenty of time for another pipe.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No there isn’t,” said Mathers. “I very -much wish there was.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>We walked on a few yards farther.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“D’ you drink that rich, brown cod-liver -oil, the same as Nubby?” asked Steggles of -Mathers, suddenly. Mathers looked at him, -and I knew how things were in a moment. -For a moment my own sufferings were forgotten -before the awful spectacle of the ruin -of Mathers. He gave his pipe back quietly, -took great gasps of air, mopped his forehead, -and rolled his eyes about. Then he said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’m not quite happy about Nubbs. You -push on, and I’ll overtake you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hanged if you’re not queer too!” exclaimed -Steggles. “Whoever would have -thought that Three Castles--”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Shut up,” said Mathers, hoarsely. “It -was the boi--boiled beef at dinner.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He spoke the words with an awful effort.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>“So it was,” I said, feebly. “We never -could stand it--either of us.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A steaming glass of hot grog is what -you want,” said Steggles, sympathetically.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Go!” gasped Mathers, who really looked -horrid now; “go! or I’ll kick you, if it kills -me to do it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Blessed if you haven’t turned green, -Mathers,” said Steggles. “You look as if -you’d been buried and dug up again. I -don’t say it unkindly, but it’s jolly curious.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>At the same moment ting! ting! went a -bicycle bell; and there was Milly, looking -fine.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’ll all be late,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We prayed she would hurry on and not -observe us too narrowly. Then that beast, -Steggles, made her stop.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Look here,” he said, “it’s frightfully -serious because of the match--these poor -chaps are ill--just cast your eye at the colors -they’ve gone. They worried me to let them -try to smoke, and--”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ll break your neck for this!” interrupted -Mathers. Then he turned to M.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If you’re a lady, if you ever cared an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>atom about us, please ride on round that -corner. We’re ill--can’t you see it?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, I can--anybody could. I’m sorry. -But you won’t hurt Steggles if I go?” -said M.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No; I promise. Say we’re on the road -and shall be there in ten--ten-- Go!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>M. took the hint and rode off, with Steggles -frisking beside her, like the dog he was.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Thank the Lord!” said Mathers. Then -horrid things happened both to him and me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We crawled to the match more dead than -alive and found a crowd waiting, and Browne -and several of the other masters. We were -fully twenty minutes late. “This is very -unsportsmanlike, the days being so short -too!” Browne squeaked. Then we took off -our coats and tottered into the field of play.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Of course Buckland Grammar School won. -Our side would have done a long way better -without us. I couldn’t take a pass or shoot -for the life of me--it occupied all my time -wrestling with nature, let alone the Bucklanders. -And Mathers, who played back, -was worse. The roughs “guyed” him, and -asked him what he’d been drinking. If -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>they’d asked him what he’d been smoking -there might have been some sense in it. He -told me afterwards that he often saw three -footballs at one time when he tried to kick, -and sometimes four, and the ball he kicked -always turned out to be an apparition. Bradwell -kept goal grandly too; but it was no -good with Mathers like that, and he utterly -ruined Ashby Major, the other back.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Nubbs had gone to bed when we got back, -and the matron, knowing Nubbs had a tricky -system, sent for Doctor Barnes. Nubbs, -therefore, gave himself away.</p> - -<p class='c000'>M. never looked at any of us again, and -she and Steggles undoubtedly became frightful -pals; but the next term, just before -Easter, I had the pleasure of writing a fine -letter to Mathers, who had left Merivale, -and was reading for six months with a private -tutor before going to Cambridge. This -is part of the letter:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Dear Mathers,” I wrote, “you will be -interested to know that Browne has come -down on Steggles at last. I fancy Browne -knew the Doctor was fairly sick of Steggles -and wanted to be rid of him. In fact, I heard -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>the Doctor call Steggles a canker-worm myself. -Anyway, Browne blew up on the smoking, -and Steggles will soon probably vanish, -like the dew upon the fleece. M. cried a -bit, I fancy, when she heard it, but Nubbs -says she smiled at him two mornings afterwards -coming out of chapel. Nubbs expects -to crack (his voice) any day, but he hopes -to get a definite understanding with M. before -it happens. It’ll be too late after. Of -course she never looks at me. She told -Steggles, and he told me, that she could -not possibly care for a person she had once -seen the hue of a Liberty Art Fabric--meaning -me. I scragged Steggles after he told -me. But it is all over now. I believe he is -to go into his father’s business--Steggles & -Stote, Wine Merchants. M. is more beautiful -than ever, though I’m afraid she’s got a -bad disposition. To reflect on a fellow’s color -at such a time as that was a bit rough.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span> - <h2 class='c003'>The Protest of the Wing Dormitory</h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c007'>I</h3> - -<p class='c008'>This is the story of the most tremendous -thing that ever happened at Dunston’s, -or any other school, I should think. Though -in it luckily, I didn’t do any of the big -part, being merely one of those chaps who -were flogged and not expelled afterwards. -Trelawny and Bradwell carried the thing -through, and all the other fellows in the -Wing Dormitory followed their lead. And, -mind you, everybody had the welfare of the -school at heart. It seemed a jolly brave -sort of thing to do, and jolly interesting. -Trelawny arranged the military side of the -business, and Bradwell, whose father is -known as the “Whiteley” of some place in -Yorkshire, looked to the commissariat, which -means feeding. As to Trelawny, who really -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>captained the dormitory, he was Cornish, -and a relation of that very chap fifty thousand -Cornish men wanted to know the reason -why about long ago. He was going to be a -soldier, read history books for choice, and -already knew many military words.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I was Bradwell’s fag at the time, because -Watson minor had failed in some secret -enterprise, and I remember the first conversation -which led to everything. Happening -to take some tuck in to Bradwell in the -Fifth class-room, I found Trelawny there -and heard him say:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The only way. A protest, and a jolly -dignified one, must be made. It’s for the -credit of the school, and if the Doctor will -not see it we must show him. I’ve thought -about it a lot, and I think if a section of -chaps could put themselves in a strong, -fortified position they might demand to be -heard, and even be able to offer an--an ultimatum. -Of course, doing the thing for the -good of the school and not for ourselves -makes us morally right.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Of course,” said Bradwell.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But we must be physically strong. In -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>warfare the relative positions of the sides -are always taken into account when the -treaties of peace are arranged.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What are you staring at?” said Bradwell -to me. “You hook it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>So I hooked. But I knew perfectly well -what they were talking about. Everybody -in the Wing Dormitory did, because they -often discussed the same question after they -thought the rest of the chaps were asleep. -It was the new mathematical master, -Thompson, who troubled not only Trelawny -and Bradwell but a lot of the other fellows. -Trelawny had called him an “unholy -bounder” the third day he was there, and -that seemed to be a general opinion. Yet, -with all his bounderishness, he was awfully -clever, and meant well. But he didn’t know -anything about chaps in a general way, and -he left out his h’s and stuck them in with -awfully rum effects. Thompson tried hard -to be friendly to everybody, but only the kids -liked him. He couldn’t understand somehow, -and insulted chaps in the most frightful -way, not seeing any difference between -fellows at the top of the school and mere -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>kids at the bottom. Captains of elevens -were as nothing to him. He seemed to -have read up boys like he read mathematics -and stuff--from rotten books. He would -say sometimes, “Now, you fellows, let’s -’ave a jolly game of leap-frog before the bell -rings,” and things like that. Boys never -do play leap-frog except in books really. -Once he offered to show Trelawny how to -make a kite, and he asked Chambers--<em>Chambers</em>, -mind you, the Captain of the First -Eleven at Cricket--whether he knew a shop -where there were capital iron hoops for sale at -a shilling each. I heard him say it, and he put it -like this: “I say, Chambers, do you know those -splendid ’oops they sell at Burford’s in ’Igh -Street? It’s out of bounds, but if you like -I’ll get you one this evening. They’ve got -iron crooks and everything. I make this -offer because you understood a little of what -I said about Conic Sections this afternoon.” -Thompson meant so jolly well that nobody -could get in a wax with him personally; and, -as I say, the kids, who didn’t see the “unholy -bounder” side of him, and only knew -he stood gallons of ginger-beer on half-holidays -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>in the playing-fields, liked him better -than anybody. But Trelawny took big -views, and so did Bradwell, and they decided -to make a definite protest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Nothing happened till one day Thompson -said something about Trelawney’s “Celtic -thickness of skull.” That stung Trelawny -like nettles, and he set to work and arranged -the great plot of the Wing Dormitory. -He decided that the fifteen chaps -who slept in the isolated Wing Dormitory -of Dunston’s were to fortify the place, and -hold it before the world and the Doctor as -a protest against Thompson. Every chap -in the dormitory, from Trelawny and Bradwell -to Watson minor, signed their names -in their own blood on a paper Trelawny -drew out; and Watson minor fainted while -he was doing it, not being able to see his -own gore on a pen without going off. We -swore by a tremendous swear to obey Trelawny, -to fortify the Wing Dormitory -against siege, to devote every penny of -our week’s pocket-money to provisions, and -to hold out till we starved, having first -signed another paper for Doctor Dunston -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>explaining our united protest against Thompson, -and hoping for the good of the school -that he would be removed. I didn’t understand -much about it really. In fact, I don’t -believe anybody did but Trelawny and Bradwell. -Only they said we were acting for the -good of the school, and they also said that -if we held the Wing Dormitory properly nothing -short of cannon or starvation could dislodge -us. It was a tremendously tall building, -complete in itself, with iron fire-proof doors -constructed to cut it off from the rest of the -school, and with a bath-room and a lavatory -adjoining, all at a great height above the -ground. The windows were barred to keep -chaps getting out. The bars would also -keep chaps getting in, as Trelawny pointed -out. He found also that it was possible -when the iron doors were closed to pull -down some wood-work, and stick things -behind the doors so as they could not be -opened again. The only entrance to the -Wing Dormitory was through these iron -doors, so once shut we were safe against -anything but gunpowder; and Trelawny -said Doctor Dunston was not the man to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>resort to physical means, especially if it -meant knocking the place about. Bradwell -came out wonderfully about the food, and -knowing jolly well that they would turn -the water out of the bath-room when the -siege started, he made every chap fill his -basin and jug the night before; because -fresh water is vital to a siege.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There were fifteen chaps, and the time -came at last, and one night we laid the -manifesto on the mat outside the iron door, -made everything fast, and waited to see -what would happen. Some fellows thought -that Thompson would be sent away at once, -to avoid the affair becoming serious; others -fancied we should be starved out or expelled -to a man. Trelawny never hazarded any -guess at what would be the end of it. “We -are doing our duty in the interests of the -school,” he said, “and whatever happens we -mean well; and if it gets into print the -sympathy of all chaps in public schools will -be on our side.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span> - <h3 class='c007'>II</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>When the gas was turned out at the -meter on the night preceding the siege, -Trelawny made a short speech. First he -lighted two candles and made us sign the -protest; then he explained his military system -of night and day watches and guards. -Each of the four windows had a guard at -all hours, and two chaps were to be stationed -at the iron door. This was made -doubly strong by beds piled against it, after -the manifesto had been finally signed -and left outside. The document ran thus:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We, the undersigned, thinking that the -fame of Dunston’s is tarnished by Mr. Thompson, -M.A., Fellow of Trinity College, Camb., -hereby protest, and formally assert themselves -to call attention to Mr. Thompson. -We, the undersigned, have no personal -grudge to Mr. Thompson, but think him -unsuited to carry on the great reputation of -Dunston’s. We, the undersigned, take this -important step fully alive to the gravity of -it, for we are prepared to suffer if necessary -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>to call attention to the subject. We do not -doubt Mr. Thompson’s goodness, and wish -it to be understood that the action is abstract -and not personal. A string will be -lowered from the third window of the Wing -Dormitory to-morrow at 8.30 <span class='fss'>A.M.</span> Any -answer to the protest will receive instant -attention from us the undersigned.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then followed the names.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Of course, it was all Greek to the kids, -but they put their trust in Trelawny and -signed to a kid.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Inside the dormitory we were jolly busy, -too, because after Trelawny, as commander, -had made his rules and regulations clear, -Bradwell, as the head of the commissariat, -drew up a list of the total supplies, and -showed what each fellow had contributed to -the store. This list I copied for Bradwell -at the time, with notes about the different -supplies. It comes in here, and I must give -it, just to show what different ideas different -chaps have about the things you ought to -eat in a siege.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Trelawny.</span>--Two hams, eight loaves of -bread.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span><span class='sc'>Bradwell.</span>--Three tins potted salmon, -two seed-cakes (big), box of biscuits.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Ashby Major.</span>--Ten tins sardines. (Ashby -has five shillings a week pocket-money, -his father being rather rich. Bradwell said -it was rather a pity he spent it all in sardines.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Ashby Minor.</span>--Three pats of butter, -three tins Swiss milk, one tin Guava jelly. -(Bradwell was awfully pleased about the -milk, because he said it was at once nourishing -and pleasant to the taste.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Wilson.</span>--Six dried herrings, two pots -veal and ham paste, one pot marmalade. -(Herrings useless, unless eaten raw.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>West.</span>--Four bottles raspberry vinegar. -(I am West, and I thought raspberry vinegar -would be a jolly good thing to break the -monotony of a siege. But Bradwell said it -was simply a luxury.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Morrant.</span>--One hamper containing -twenty-four apples, twenty-seven pears, two -pots blackberry jam. (Morrant has no -pocket-money, but Bradwell said the fruit -was good for a change.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Gideon.</span>--Nothing. (Gideon is a Jew by -birth, and gets ten shillings a week pocket-money. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>He pretended he had forgotten. -Trelawny says he will suffer for it in the -course of the siege.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Mathers.</span>--Eight pieces of shortbread, -five slabs of toffee, seven sausage-rolls. -(The rolls were cut in half to be eaten first -thing before they went bad. But Bradwell -said Mathers had made the selection of a -fool, and so Mathers was rather vexed with -Bradwell.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Newnes.</span>--Ten loaves (five brown), one -packet of beef tabloids. (Trelawny congratulated -Newnes.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>McInnes.</span>--A lot of spring onions and -lettuces, costing one-and-sixpence. (McInnes -had been reading a book about chaps -getting scurvy on a raft, and he thought a -siege would be just the place for scurvy, so -he bought all green stuff; and Bradwell -said it was good.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Corkey Minimus.</span>--Three pounds of -mixed sweets. (Bradwell smacked his head -when he heard what Corkey minimus had -got; but Trelawny pointed out that a few -sweets served out from time to time might -distract the mind.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span><span class='sc'>Derbyshire.</span>--A pigeon-pie and thirteen -currant buns with saffron in them.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Forrest.</span>--Four pots Bovril, one bottle -cider. (Bovril can be taken on bread like -treacle, and once saved the lives of several -shipwrecked sailors.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Watson Minor.</span>--Two pounds dog-biscuits, -one pound dried figs, one box of dates. -(Asked why he took dog-biscuits, he explained -it was because he had seen an advertisement -about the goodness of them. It -said they had dried buffalo meat in them, -which was a thing you could live for an immense -duration of time on. Trelawny said -that was pretty fair sense for a kid.)</p> - -<hr class='c009' /> - -<p class='c000'>All this splendid food was brought out of -boxes where it had been hidden and placed -in the hands of Bradwell; and that night he -sat up with a candle and drew out bills of -fare and made calculations. We were rather -surprised in the morning to hear the rations -would not last more than a fortnight, -but Trelawny said the siege must be over -long before that. Nobody slept much, and -many had dressed before the first bell rang. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>When the second bell rang Trelawny and -Bradwell went to the door to listen.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Presently Thompson, of all people, came -up and tried to get in and couldn’t. He -shook the door, then saw the envelope addressed -to the Doctor, and said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What’s the meaning of this, you fellows? -Let me in at once!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But nobody answered. Then he cleared -off. At 8.30 the string was lowered from -the window, and Trelawny went and stood -by it to pull up any letter that might be -fastened to it. But none was. Some of -the chaps were prowling about outside looking -at the Wing Dormitory, but Trelawny -wouldn’t let anybody go to the windows except -himself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then, as nothing happened, we had breakfast. -McInnes and Forrest were told off -to help Bradwell, and each chap’s rations -were put on his bed after he had made it. -We all got the same except Gideon--a slice -of bread, two sardines, half one of Mathers’s -sausage-rolls, and half a tumbler of water. -So we began at once to see what a jolly -serious thing a siege is. And Gideon saw -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>it more than we did, because he had no -sardines and no sausage-roll. He offered -Trelawny money for a little more food, but -Trelawny said he shouldn’t have as much -as one mixed sweet, though he might pay -gold for it. He said, “You will have barely -enough to keep you alive.” And Gideon -turned awfully white when he heard it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Breakfast didn’t take more than about five -minutes, then there was a tremendous knocking -at the iron door, and Bradwell said the -trouble had begun, but Trelawny said it was -the summons to a parley. Anyway, we heard -the Doctor’s voice, and it wasn’t much of a -parley, strictly speaking, because he spoke -first, and merely gave us two minutes to be -in our places down-stairs.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If you don’t obey, one and all of you,” -said the Doctor, “you must take the consequences. -As it is, they will be sufficiently -grave. Any further offence I shall know -how to treat.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If you please, sir,” said Trelawny, -“the string is out of the window. We -are doing this for the good of the school, -and--”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>Then he stopped, because he had heard -the Doctor go away.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He’ll try a blacksmith first,” said Forrest; -“then, when they find they can’t do anything -with this iron door, he’ll send for policemen.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But nothing was done, strangely enough, -and Trelawny made the chaps lie down and -sleep if they could in the afternoon, because -he expected a night attack with ladders. -To get in it would be necessary to remove -the bars from the windows, and anybody attempting -to do so would, of course, be at our -mercy with the windows open.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For dinner that day we had one of Trelawny’s -hams cut into fifteen pieces, with -two rather thin slices of bread, one spring -onion, and three mixed sweets each, and as -much raspberry vinegar as would go into a -bullet-mold that Wilson had. Gideon ate -the ham like anybody else, which shows -Jews don’t refuse pork in any shape at times -of siege, whatever they say. Trelawny -wouldn’t give him any raspberry vinegar, -but Ashby minor let him have one of his -mixed sweets, which was green and had -arsenic in it, Ashby minor thought.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>It seemed a frightfully long day, and nothing -being done against us made it longer. -Bradwell tried to cook Wilson’s herrings -with stuff out of a pillow-case, but unfortunately -failed. Trelawny explained that -Dunston was working out tactics, and would -do something when the moon rose. He said -our motto was to be “Defence, not Defiance”; -but Derbyshire said they were going -to starve us out like rats, so as to reduce the -glory as much as possible. One or two chaps -had private rows that day, and Trelawny -was pretty short and sharp. He said we -were to regard ourselves as under martial -law, and he stopped Forrest having any tea -at all because he looked out of the window -and waved his hand to Steggles in the playground. -What made it worse for Forrest -was that we opened one of his pots of Bovril -at that very tea, and of course he didn’t have -any. But Trelawny said it was good discipline, -and wouldn’t let Mathers divide his -share with young Forrest, though he wanted -to.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The day dragged out. Nothing was done, -and no letter was put on the string. Then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>night came and moonlight, and Trelawny -set watches at each window and door with -directions to wake him instantly if anything -happened or anybody assembled outside below. -But he didn’t sleep really. In fact, -only a few of the kids did. Bradwell got a -bit down in the mouth after dark, and I -heard him say to Trelawny it wasn’t turning -out like he thought, and Trelawny said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s always the same when a position is -impregnable. I could show you a dozen -similar sieges in history. Of course, it’s the -most uninteresting sort of siege when chaps -simply sit and see the enemy get to the end -of their food supplies, but they won’t do -that with us. The day boys will talk, and -old Dunston will raise heaven and earth to -keep it out of the printed papers. I bet he’ll -tie something to the string to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Some of us tried to take a bright view -like Trelawny, but when we heard him tell -Bradwell to run no risks and serve out as -little bread as possible, we felt that he did -not really feel as hopeful of a short siege -as he seemed. Just before dusk Corkey -minimus was caught in the act of flinging -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>a letter out of the window addressed to his -mother. It was torn up, and he was cautioned. -That ended the day, and nothing -else happened until a quarter to one o’clock. -Then Bradwell, whose watch it was, called -“Cave!” and came to Trelawny with frightful -excitement to say that there was the -head of a ladder at his window, and a man -climbing up. Trelawny was there in a second, -and asked in a loud voice what the man -wanted, and said he’d throw the ladder down -if the man came up another rung. But the -man said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hush! you silly fellow; I’m a friend -with news from the enemy. The least you -can do is to ’ear what I’ve got to say.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good Lord!” said Trelawny, “it’s -Thompson!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And so it was, and his huge head soon -got level with the window, and looked like -a bull’s against the moonlight. Trelawny -made everybody get out of earshot except -Bradwell; but he didn’t happen to see me, -being rolled up in bed near the window, so -I heard.</p> - -<p class='c000'>First Thompson said:</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>“Look ’ere, you Cornish boy, I’m sorry -to find we ’aven’t ’it it off by any means, -and you want me to go, and you’ve locked -yourself and friends up ’ere as a protest. -Now, ’ow ’ave I ’urt your feelings, and what -have I done?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Which was a bit difficult for Trelawny; -but he fell back on the manifesto to the -Doctor.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s no personal matter, sir. We wish it -to be understood that the action is abstract.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh. Well, I can’t say I know what the -devil you mean by that; but I like you all -better than ever, and I understand this -much, that you don’t like me. I’m not -proud. I’m quite as ready to learn as to -teach. Tell me what makes you do this, -you queer things.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We don’t think you are the right man -for Dunston’s, sir,” said Trelawny, firmly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, but isn’t Doctor Dunston the best -judge? His experience reaches back rather -farther than yours. Anyway, I’m not going. -You’ll ’ave to tolerate me. You’ll ’ave to -like me too. I’ve disobeyed all orders by -climbing up ’ere now to advise you to give in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>to-morrow. Take my advice, and come -out at the first bell, and with ropes round -your necks. Measures are in ’and; and as -your protest has utterly failed, the sooner -you give in and take your punishment the -better. I’ve done my best to make it as -light as I can; but boys mustn’t do this sort -of thing in big schools, you know. It’s -very naughty indeed.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We shall keep up the protest for another -day at least, sir,” said Trelawny, with a lot -of side in his voice.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, my lad, you won’t,” answered -Thompson. “The Doctor has taken my -advice, and by very simple means, with the -least possible waste of time, trouble, and -money, we shall enter your stronghold -to-morrow. I am quite good-tempered to-day. -To-morrow I shall probably be quite -cross and ’ot. The matter is in my ’ands. -Do be good boys and yield while there is -time. The sooner the better.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I regret we cannot comply with your -terms, sir,” said Trelawny.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’m not offering any,” answered Mr. -Thompson. “I only want to make your -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>foolishness fall as light as possible. Your -mothers’ and fathers’ ’earts will ache over -this headstrong business.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The parley is ended,” said Trelawney.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“All right,” said Mr. Thompson, “I’m -afraid you’re a hawful little prig, Trelawny.” -Then he went down the ladder, and looking -out, Bradwell reported that he saw him -taking it back to the gardener’s shed in the -shrubbery.</p> - -<h3 class='c007'>III</h3> - -<p class='c008'>There is not much more to be said about -the protest of the Wing Dormitory. I suppose -Thompson was better up in tactics -really than Trelawny. Anyway, he found -a weak spot that Trelawny never thought -of, and he ended the siege by half-past seven -the following morning.</p> - -<p class='c000'>About six Ashby major, whose watch it -was, reported that the school fire-escape -was coming round the corner. With it appeared -Mr. Thompson, Mr. Mannering, who -is an Oxford “Blue” and not much smaller -than Mr. Thompson, the Doctor, the gardener, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>and the military agent who drills our -volunteer corps and teaches gymnastics. -They put the escape against the wall of the -Wing Dormitory, between two windows, -where it couldn’t be reached by us. Then -Thompson and Mannering went up, and the -sergeant and gardener followed. The Doctor -waited at the foot of the ladder.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“They’ll get through the roof!” said -Trelawny; “I never thought of that!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Trelawny turned awfully rum in the face, -and tried to think out a way of repelling -a roof attack; but there wasn’t time. In -about ten minutes or so the end of an iron -bar came through the ceiling; then followed -a regular avalanche of plaster and dust, that -fell on Watson minor and jolly nearly smothered -him. Then came Thompson, Mannering -followed, and the gardener and the -sergeant dropped after them as quick as -lightning. Of course, we were done, because -only half of us were fighters, the rest -being kids; and Trelawny himself being just -fifteen and Bradwell fourteen and Ashby -major twelve and a half, and I only eleven -and a half, it was no good.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>“We surrender,” said Trelawny.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Surrender, you little brute, I should -think you did yield!” said Mannering, who -had cut his hand getting the slates off the -roof, and was in a rare bate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You needn’t insult a defeated force, sir,” -said Trelawny, keeping his nerve jolly well. -“We are prepared to pay the penalty of -failure, and having meant well we--we don’t -care.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But whether we meant well or not, I know -Trelawney and Bradwell both got expelled, -though Thompson was said to have tried -very hard for them. Dunston didn’t seem -to realize what frightfully good motives -prompted them to protest against Thompson -in an abstract way. Nothing was done to -anybody else except Ashby major and me -and Wilson. We were flogged by Mr. Mannering -for the Doctor; and he did it as you -might expect from a “Blue.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>As for Thompson, he stayed on, and the -protest never got into print; and there wasn’t -much disgrace for Trelawny or Bradwell -after all, because the first afterwards got into -Woolwich ten from the top, through an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>army crammer’s, and the second joined his -father, who was the Whiteley of the North -I spoke of. He wrote to me only a week -ago to say that he was getting a hundred -pounds a year from his governor for doing -much less than he had to do at Dunston’s. -Mind you, Thompson is a jolly good sort, -really, and we know it now; and, as I heard -my uncle say of somebody else, I don’t suppose -it’s a matter of life and death whether -or no a chap puts his h’s in the wrong places -if his heart’s in the right one.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span> - <h2 class='c003'>“Freckles” and “Frenchy”</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>He was the most peculiar chap that -ever came to Merivale, not excepting -even Mason, who shot the Doctor’s wife’s -parrot with a catapult, and, after he had been -flogged, offered to stuff it in the face of -the whole school, and nearly got expelled. -Freckles was so called owing to his skin, -which was simply a complicated pattern -much like what you can see in any map of -the Grecian Archipelago. This arose, he -thought, from his having been born in Australia. -Anyway, it was rum to see; and so -were his hands, which had reddish down on -the backs. His eyes were, also reddish--a -sort of mixture of red and gray specks, and -they glimmered like a cat’s when he was -angry, which was often. His real name was -Maine, and he had no side. His father -had made a big fortune selling wool at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>Sydney, and his grandfather was one of the -last people to be transported to Botany Bay -through no fault of his own. After he had -been on a convict ship five years a chap -at home confessed on his death-bed that he -had done the thing Maine’s grandfather -was transported for. So they naturally let -Maine’s grandfather go free; and he was so -much annoyed about it that he never came -back home again, but married a farmer’s -daughter near Sydney and settled out there -for good.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Maine didn’t think great things of England, -and was always talking about the Australian -forests of blue gum-trees and bush, and -sneering rather at the size of our forests -round Merivale, though they were good ones. -He never joined in games, but roamed away -alone for miles and miles into the country on -half-holidays, and trespassed with a cheek I -never saw equalled. He could run like a -hare--especially about half a mile or so, -which, as he explained to me, is just about -a distance to blow a keeper. Certainly, -though often chased, he was never caught -and never recognized, owing to things he did -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>which he had learned in Australia and copied -from famous bushrangers. His great hope -some day was to be a bushranger himself, -and he practised in a quiet way every Saturday -afternoon, making it a rule to go out of -bounds always. His get-up was fine. My -name is Tomkins, called “Nubby” because -I happen to have a rather large sort of nose, -and, being fond of the country and not keen -on games, Maine rather took to me, and after -I had sworn on crossed knives not to say a -word to a soul (which I never did till Freckles -left) he told me his secrets and showed -me his things. If you’d seen Freckles starting -for an excursion you wouldn’t have said -there was anything remarkable about him; -but really he was armed to the teeth, and -had everything a bushranger would be likely -to want in a quiet place like Merivale. Down -his leg was the barrel of an air-gun, strong -enough to kill any small thing like a cat at -twenty-five yards; the rest of the gun was -arranged inside the lining of his coat, and -the slugs it fired he carried loose in his -trousers-pockets. Round his waist he had a -leather belt he got from a sailor for a pound. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>Inside the leather was human skin, said to -be flayed off a chap by cannibals somewhere, -which was a splendid thing to have for your -own, if it was true; and in the belt a place -had been specially made for a knife. Freckles, -of course, had a knife in it--a “bowie” -knife that made you cold to see. He never -used it, but kept it ready, and said if a -keeper ever caught him he possibly might -have to. In addition to these things he -carried in his coat-pockets a little spirit-lamp -and a collapsible tin pot and a bag -of tea.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He said tea was the very life of men in the -bush, and that often after a hard escape, -when he was out of danger, he would get -away behind a woodstack or under banks -of a stream, or some such secret place, and -brew a cup and drink it, and feel the better -for it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Lastly, Freckles had a flat lead mask with -holes for the eyes and mouth, which he -always fitted on when trespassing. He said -it was copied from the helmet Ned Kelly, -the King of the Bushrangers, used to wear, -but it was not bullet-proof, but only used -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>for a disguise. We were in the same dormitory, -and one night, when all the chaps had -gone to sleep, he dressed up in these things -and stood where some moonlight came in, -and certainly looked jolly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Once, as an awful favor--me being smaller -than him, and not fast enough to run away -from a man--he let me come and see what -he did when bushranging on a half-holiday -in winter. “I sha’n’t run my usual frightful -risks with you,” he said, “because I -might have to open fire to save you, and that -would be very disagreeable to me; but we’ll -trespass a bit, and I’ll shoot a few things, -if I can. I don’t shoot much, only for -food.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He made me a mask with tinfoil off chocolate -smoothed out and gummed on cardboard; -but I had no weapons, and he said I -had better not try and get any.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We started for the usual walk. Chaps -were allowed to go through a public pine-wood -to Merivale; but half through, by a -place where was a board which warned us to -keep the path, Freckles branched off into -some dead bracken, and squatted down and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>put on his mask. I also put on mine. Then -he fastened his air-gun together and loaded -it, and told me to walk six paces behind him -and do as he did. His eyes were awfully -keen, and now and then he pointed to a -feather on the ground, or an old nest or a -patch of rum fungus or a crab-apple still -hanging on the tree, though all the leaves -were off.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Once he fired at a jay and missed it, then -fell down in the fern as if he was shot himself, -and remained quite motionless for some -time. He told me that he always did so -after firing, that he might hear if anybody -had been attracted by the sound. It was a -well-known bushman’s dodge. Once we saw -a keeper through a clearing, and Freckles -lay flat on his stomach, and so did I. He -knew the keeper well, and told me that he -had many times escaped from him. We -waited half an hour, and turned to go back -a different way from that of the keeper.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then, where a glade sloped down to some -water and the grass was all dewy and covered -with mole-hills, Freckles went to inspect -a trap he had set a week before. He -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>was collecting skins for a mole-skin waistcoat, -but he said skinning moles was one of -the beastliest tasks a hunter ever had. -However, there was a mole caught, and he -skinned it and wrapped up the skin in -leaves and put it in his hat.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then we had some real sport, for on the -other side of the glade we saw rabbits lopping -about, and Freckles stalked them -through the fern while I waited motionless, -and finally he shot a young one. I wanted -to take it back and get cook to do it for us, -but he said I was a fool.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If you want any you must have it now. -It’s about the time I take a meal,” he said, -“and that’s a part of my ranging and hunting -you haven’t seen yet.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He knew the country well, and said we -were in one of the most carefully preserved -places anywhere about, which must have -been true, for there were an awful lot of -pheasants calling in the glades. But Freckles -got down into a drain and showed me a -hollow he had scooped out under a lot of -ivy where it fell over a bank.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“This is one of my caves,” he said, “and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>here we can feed and drink in safety; but -you mustn’t talk or I sha’n’t be able to hear -if anything is stirring in the woods.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He took off his mask, set down his gun, -and lighted his spirit-stove.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Skin the rabbit and cut off his hind-legs -while I make tea,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So I did, and he held them over the lamp -till they were slightly cooked outside, but -not right through. He ate and drank with -his ears straining for every sound. Then he -took the rest of the rabbit and removed -all traces of eating, and buried everything -we had left.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If I didn’t,” he explained, “some keeper’s -dog would find my lair, and make a row -and give it away, and the keepers would -doubtless lie in wait for me and catch me -red-handed. You can’t be too careful, -because every man’s hand’s against you; -which, of course, is the beauty of it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>We got back without anything happening, -and I’ve hated the sight of rabbit pretty -well ever since, but Freckles said the juices -of animals are better for the human frame -underdone.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>Well, that gives you an idea of Freckles, -and the affair with Frenchy, which I am -going to tell you about, showed that he really -was cut out for bushranging. Frenchy, as -we called him, was Monsieur Michel. He -didn’t belong entirely to Dunston’s, but -lived in Merivale and came to us three days -a week, and went to a girl’s school the other -three. He was a rum, oldish chap, whose -great peculiarities were to make puns in -English and to appeal to our honor about -everything.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He would slang a fellow horribly one day, -and wave his arms and pretty nearly jump -out of his skin; and the next day he would -bring up a whacking pear for the fellow -he’d slanged, or a new knife or something. -He pretty nearly cried sometimes, and he -told us his nerves were frightfully tricky, -and often led him to be harsh when he -didn’t mean it. He couldn’t keep order -or make chaps work if they didn’t choose; -and Steggles, who had an awfully cunning -dodge of always rubbing him up the wrong -way, and then looking crushed and broken-hearted -so as to get things, which he did, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>said that Frenchy was like damp fireworks, -because you never knew exactly when he’d -go off or how.</p> - -<p class='c000'>One day, dashing out of class with a -frightful yell, Freckles got sent for, and -went back and found Monsieur raving mad. -It seemed that Freckles had yelled too soon--before -he was out of the class-room, in -fact, and Frenchy had got palpitation of the -heart from it. He let into Freckles properly -then. He said he was his “<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>bête noire</em></span>” and -“<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>un sot à vingt-quatre carats</em></span>”--which means -an eighteen-carat ass in English, but twenty-four -carats in French--and “one of the -aborigines who ought to be kept on a chain,” -and many other such-like things. Freckles -turned all colors, and then white, with a -sort of bluish tint to his lips. He didn’t say -a word, but looked at Frenchy with such a -frightful expression that I felt something -would happen later. All that happened at -the time was that Freckles got the eighth -book of Telemachus to write out into French -from English, and then correct by Fénelon, -which was a pretty big job if a chap had -been fool enough to try and do it; and Monsieur -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>Michel went off to Merivale with a -big card on his coat-tail with “<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>Ici on parle -Français</em></span>” written upon it in red pencil. -This I had managed to do myself while -Frenchy was jawing Freckles. I told -Freckles, but it didn’t comfort him much. -He said there were some things no mortal -chap could stand; and to be called “an aborigine” -because a man was born in Australia -seemed to him about the bitterest insult even -an old frog-eating Frenchman could have -invented. Happening to <em>him</em>, of all chaps, -it was especially a thing which would have -to be revenged, seeing what his views were. -He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I couldn’t bushrange or anything with -a clear conscience in the future if I had a -thing like this hanging over me unrevenged. -It’s the frightfulest slur on my character, -and I won’t sit down under it for fifty -Frenchmen.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then he said he should take a week to -settle what to do, and went into the playground -alone.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Next time Frenchy came up he was just -the same as ever--awfully easy-going and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>jolly, and let Freckles off the Telemachus, -and offered him as classy a knife, with a -corkscrew and other things, including -tweezers, as ever you saw--just the knife -for Freckles, considering his ways. But it -didn’t come off. Freckles got white again -when he saw the knife, and said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Thank you, Monsieur, I don’t want your -knife; and the imposition is half done, and -will be finished next time you come.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Frenchy called him a silly boy, and -tried to make a joke and pinch Freckles by -the ear. But nobody saw the joke, and -Freckles dodged away. Then Frenchy -sighed, and looked round to see who should -have the knife, and didn’t seem to see anybody -in particular, and left it on his desk. -He often sighed in class, and sometimes -told us he was without friends, unless he -might call us friends; and we said he -might.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When he went, Freckles told me he considered -the knife was another insult. Then -he explained what he was going to do. He -said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I shall finish the impot first, so as not to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>be obliged to him for anything, and then I -shall stick him up.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Stick him up--how?” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s a bushranging expression,” he explained. -“To ‘stick up’ a man is to make -him stand and deliver what he’s got. I see -my way to do this with Frenchy. He always -goes and comes from Merivale through the -woods, as you know, and now he’s up here on -Friday nights coaching Slade and Betterton -for their army exam. Afterwards he has supper -with Mr. Thompson or the Doctor. There -you are. I wait my time in the wood, which -is jolly lonely by night, though it is such a -potty little place hardly worth calling a wood; -then he comes along, and I stick him up.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s highway robbery,” I said. “You -might get years and years of imprisonment.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I might,” he said, “but I sha’n’t. You -must begin your career some time, and I’m -going to next Friday night. I’ve often got -out of the dormitory and been in that wood -by night, and only the chaps in the dormitory -have known it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, the night came, and all that we -heard about it till afterwards was that about -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>eleven o’clock, or possibly even later than -that, there was a fearful pealing at the front -door of Dunston’s, and looking out we could -see a stretcher and something on it. That -something was actually Freckles, though -the few chaps who knew what was going to -be done felt sure it must be Frenchy; because -Freckles is five feet ten and growing, -and Frenchy isn’t more than five feet six at -the outside, and a poor thing at that.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But it <em>was</em> Freckles all right, and two -laboring men had brought him back, and -Frenchy had come with them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Not until five weeks afterwards, when -Freckles could get up and limp about, did I -hear the truth; and I’ll tell it in his own -words, because they must be better than a -chap’s who wasn’t there. He seemed frightfully -down in the mouth, and said that he -could never look fellows in the eyes again; -but it cheered him telling me, and when I -told him he was thundering well out of it he -admitted he was. He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>"I got off all right, and the moon was as -clear as day, and everything just ripe for -sticking a chap up. Then, like a fool, having -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>a longish time to wait, I didn’t simply -stop in shadow behind a tree-trunk or something -in the usual way, but thought I’d do a -thing I’d never heard of bushrangers doing, -though Indian thugs are pretty good at it. -I went and got up a tree which has a branch -over the road, and I thought I’d drop down -almost on top of Frenchy to start with. -And that’s just what I did do, only I dropped -wrong, and came down pretty nearly on my -head owing to slipping somehow at the start. -What did exactly happen to me as I left the -tree I never shall know. Anyway, Frenchy -came along sure enough, and I dropped, and -he jumped I should think fully a yard in the -air; but that was all, because in falling I hit -a big root (it was a beech-tree), and went and -broke something in my ankle and something -in my chest and couldn’t stand. Consequently, -of course, I couldn’t stick him up. The -pain was pretty fair, but feeling what a fool -I was seemed to make me forget it. Anyway, -finding it was useless to think of sticking -him up, I tried to hobble into the fern and -get out of sight; and finding I couldn’t -crawl, I rolled. But of course you can’t roll -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>away from a chap, and he came after me, -and my mask fell off while I rolled, and he -recognized me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>"‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>Mon Dieu!</em></span> it is the boy Maine!’ he -said. ‘Speak, child, what in the wide world -was this?’</p> - -<p class='c000'>"I disguised my voice and said I wasn’t -Maine, and that he’d better leave me alone -or it might be the worse for him yet. But -he wouldn’t go, and, chancing to get queer -about the head somehow I went off, I suppose, -though it wasn’t for long. When I -came to he was gone, but he rushed back in -a minute with that rotten old top-hat he -wears full of water he’d got from the puddle -in the stone-pit. He doused my head and -made me sit up with my back against a tree. -Then, feeling the frightfulness of it, I begged -him to clear out and let me alone. I said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>"‘You don’t know what you’re doing. -I’m no friend to you, but the deadliest -enemy you’ve got in the world, and if I -hadn’t fallen down at a critical moment and -broken myself I should have stuck you up, -Monsieur Michel. So, now, you know.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>"He said to himself, ‘The poor mad boy--the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>poor mad boy--I will run <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>à toutes -jambes</em></span> for succor’; but I told him not to. I -began to get a rum hot pain in my side then, -but I felt I would gladly have died there -rather than be obliged to him. I said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>"‘You called me an “aborigine,” which -is the most terrible thing you can call an -Australian-born chap, and you wanted to -pass it off with a knife with a corkscrew -and tweezers in it. But you couldn’t expect -me to take it, feeling as I did. Now the -fortunes of war have given you the victory, -and, if you please, I wish you’d go.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But he refused. He said he wouldn’t -have hurt my feelings for anything. He -seemed to overlook altogether what I was -going to do to him, and asked me where it -hurt me. I told him, and he said it was his -fault--fancy that! and wished he was big -enough to carry me back. I kept on asking -him to go, and at last, after begging my -pardon like anything, for about a week it -seemed, he went. But I heard him shouting -and yelling French yells in the woods, and -after a bit he came back with two men and -a hurdle. They presently took me back, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>and what Frenchy’s said since to the Doctor -I don’t know. In fact, I didn’t know anything -for days. Anyway, I’ve had nothing -but a mild rowing and very good grub, and -I’m not to be even flogged, though that’s -probably because I broke a rib or two, not -including the bone in my leg. But I’m all -right now, and I think it was about the most -sporting thing a chap ever did for Frenchy -to treat me like that--eh? I shouldn’t have -thought it was in a Frenchman to do it, especially -after I told him what I was going -to do.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes,” I said, “that’s all right, but what -about bushranging?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s pretty sickening,” he said, “but I -feel as if all the keenness was knocked out -of me. If a chap can’t so much as fall out -of a tree on a wanderer’s path at the nick of -time without smashing himself, what’s the -good of him?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Besides,” I said, “if it hadn’t been -Frenchy, but somebody else of a different -turn of mind, he might have taken you at a -disadvantage and jolly well killed you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“In real bushranging that is what would -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>have happened,” admitted Freckles. “As it -is, I expect months, perhaps years, will have -to go by before I feel to hanker after it again. -And meantime I sha’n’t rest in peace till I’ve -paid Frenchy.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How?” I asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, I believe it’s to be done. He’s -often come to see me while I was on my -back in bed, and he’s told me a lot about -himself. He’s frightfully hard up, and a -Roman Catholic, and hopes to lay his -bones in <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>la belle</em></span> France with luck, but he -doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to manage -it. He told me all this, little knowing my -father was extremely rich. Well, you see, -the mater wants somebody French for the -kids at home, which are girls, and, knowing -Frenchy bars this climate, I think Australia -might do him good. He’s fifty-three years -old, and it seems to me if the guv’nor wrote -and offered him his passage and a good -screw he’d go. I have made it a personal -thing to myself, and told the guv’nor what -a good little chap he is, and what a beautiful -accent he’s got, and the thing that happened -in the wood.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>The affair dropped then, and about six -weeks after, when Freckles was getting fit -again, he walked with me one half-holiday -to see the place where he was smashed up. -The bough was a frightful high one to drop -from even in daylight, also it was broken. -Freckles got awfully excited when he spotted -it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There! there!” he said, “that’s the -best thing I’ve seen for twelve weeks!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t see much to squeak about,” I -said, “especially as the beastly tree nearly -did for you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But can’t you see it’s broken? That’s -what did it! I thought I slipped, and if I -had I shouldn’t have been made of the stuff -for a bushranger; but the wretched branch -broke, and that is jolly different. That -wasn’t my fault. The most hardened old -hand must have come down then. In fact, -he couldn’t have stopped up. Oh, what a -lot of misery I’d have been saved through -all these weeks if I’d known it broke in a -natural sort of way!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He got an awful deal of comfort out of -this, and said he should return to his old -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>ways again as soon as he could run a mile -without stopping. And we found his lead -mask, like Ned Kelly’s, just where it had -dropped when he had rolled over in the fern, -and he welcomed it like a dog.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That’s the end, except that his father -did write to Dunston about Frenchy; and -Dunston, not being very keen about Frenchy -himself, seemed to think he would be just -the chap for the girls of Freckles’s father. -Anyway, he went, and he cried when he -said good-bye to the school; and Freckles -told me that when he said good-bye to -him he yelled with crying, and blessed him -both in French and English, and said that -the sunny atmosphere of Australia would -very likely prolong his life until he had -saved enough to get his bones back to France.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So he went, and Freckles went after him -much sooner than he ever expected to, because -the keepers finally caught him in the -game preserves, sitting in his hole under -the stream bank, frizzling the leg of a pheasant -which he had shot out of a tree with his -air-gun and buried seven days before. And -Dunston wrote to his father, and his father -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>wrote back that Freckles, being now fourteen -and apparently having less sense than -when he left Australia, had better return to -his native land, and go into the wool business, -and begin life as an office-boy in his -place of business. Freckles told me that -chaps in his father’s office generally got a -fortnight’s holiday, but that his mother -would probably work up his governor to give -him three weeks. Then he would get a -proper outfit and track away to the boundless -scrub, and fall in with other chaps who -had similar ideas, and begin to take life -seriously. He said I might see his name in -Australian papers in about a year. But he -never wrote to me, and I don’t know if he -really succeeded well. I’m sure I hope he -did, for he was a tidy chap, though queer.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span> - <h2 class='c003'>Concerning Corkey Minimus</h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c007'>I</h3> - -<p class='c008'>If Corkey minor had been at school that -term the thing would never have come -about; but Corkey minor was always one of -the lucky chaps, and just when, in the ordinary -course of events, he would have had -to begin fagging for an exam., something -happened to his right lung, and he had to -go on an awful fine trip to Australia in a -sailing ship. That left Corkey major, who -was a mere learning machine in the Sixth, -and Corkey minimus, who was ten, and in -the Lower Fourth.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It began like this. After Bray had licked -Derbyshire and Bethune, which he did one -after the other on the same half-holiday, -chaps gave him “best,” as a matter of -course, and he became cock of the lower -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>school. He was solid muscle all through, -and harder than stone, and he had a brother -in London who was runner-up in the amateur -“light-weight” championship two years -following. Bray fancied himself a bit, naturally, -and was always roaming about seeking -fellows to punch. But once, out of -bounds in a private wood, a keeper caught -him and licked him, which was seen by two -other fellows, and remembered against Bray -afterwards when he put on too much side.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He and Corkey minimus were in the same -class, because Bray, though thirteen, didn’t -know much. At first they were great chums, -and Bray bossed Corkey and palled with -him; and when Browne, the under mathematical -master, told Corkey minimus that -he was “the least of all the Corkeys, and -not worthy to be called a Corkey,” because -he couldn’t do rule-of-three, or some rot, -Bray said a thing that Browne overheard, -and got sent up. But by degrees the friendship -of Bray and Corkey minimus cooled off, -and the matter of Milly settled it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Doctor had four daughters, and Milly -was the youngest. Mabel and Ethel held -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>no dealings with any fellows under the Sixth, -and Mary had something wrong with her -spine and didn’t count. But I never cared -for any of them myself, because you couldn’t -tell what they meant. Beatrice, for instance, -was absolutely engaged to Morris, for he -told his sister so in the holidays, and his -sister told Morris minor, and he told me the -next term. Morris was the head of the -school, and he had her photograph fixed -into a foreign nut which he wore on his -watch-chain. But when he left, and she -found out he was gone into a bank at £80 -a year, she dropped him like a spider. Mind -you, Morris had told her he was descended, -on his mother’s side, from a race of old Irish -kings, which may have unsettled her. Anyway, -when she found he came, on his father’s -side, from a race of church curates, -she wrote and said it was off.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But there were other things that upset the -chumming of Bray and Corkey minimus -before the Milly row, and they ought to -be taken in turn. First, there was the Old -Testament prize, which was the only thing -Bray had the ghost of a chance of getting. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>But Corkey beat him by twenty-three -marks; and Bray said afterwards that Corkey -had cribbed a lot of stuff about Joshua, -and Corkey said he hadn’t, and even declared -he knew as much about Joshua as Bray, and a -bit over. Then, on top of that, came the match -with neckties, which was rather a rum match -in its way. Both of them used to be awfully -swagger about their neckties, and each -fancied his own. So one bet the other half -a crown he would wear a different necktie -every day for a month. The month being -June, that meant thirty different neckties -each, and the chap who wore the best neckties -would win. A fellow called Fowle was -judge, being the son of an artist; and neither -Bray nor Corkey was allowed to buy a -single new tie or add to the stock he had in -his box. At the end of a fortnight they -stood about equal, though Corkey’s ties -were rather more artistic than Bray’s, which -were chiefly yellow and spotted. But then -came an awful falling away, and some of the -affairs they wore were simply weird. The -test for these was if the tie passed in class. -Then the terms of the match were altered, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>and they decided to go on wearing different -things till one or other was stopped by a -master. Any concern not noticed was considered -a necktie “in the ordinary acceptation -of that term,” as Fowle put it. At the -end of the third week Corkey minimus came -out in an umbrella cover done in a sailor’s -knot, but nobody worth mentioning spotted -it; and the next day Bray wore a bit of blue -ribbon off a chocolate box, which also -passed. They struggled on this sort of -way till Bray got bowled over. I think -Corkey was wearing a yard-measure dipped -in red ink that morning, but it looked rather -swagger than not. Class was just ended, -when old Briggs, of all people--a man who -wore two pairs of spectacles at one time -very often--said to Bray:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What is that round your neck, boy?” -And Bray said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My tie, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Briggs said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Is it, sir? Let me see it, please. I -have noticed an increasing disorder about -your neck arrangements for a week past. -You insult me and you insult the class -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>by appearing here in these ridiculous -ties.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It sha’n’t happen again, sir,” said Bray, -trying to edge out of the class-room.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, Bray, it shall not,” said old Briggs. -“Bring me that thing at once, please.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bray handed it up, and Briggs examined -it as if it was a botanical specimen or something.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“This,” he announced, “is not a necktie -at all. You’re wearing a piece of Brussels -carpet, wretched boy--a fragment of the -new carpet laid down yesterday in the Doctor’s -study. You will kindly take it to him -immediately, say who sent you, and state -the purpose to which you were putting it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>So Bray, by the terms of the match, lost, -and Corkey minimus won with the yard -measure.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then the feeling between them grew, especially -after Bray said that he could only -pay his half-crown in instalments of a penny -a week.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now we come to Milly. You see she was -Corkey minor’s great pal the term before, -but now that he was at sea, and thousands -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>of miles off, she chucked him and turned to -Corkey minimus. That shows what she -was really. Anyway, in a bad moment for -young Corkey, she told him he had eyes -like an eagle’s, and it simply turned his -head. As an eagle’s eyes are yellow, I -couldn’t see myself what there was to be so -jolly pleased about; but he was, and, to -show you what a chap may come to if a girl -collars him, I know for a fact that Corkey -minimus tried to paint a picture for her. -Whether he actually succeeded I cannot say, -but he went down four places in class, and -got awfully dropped on by Browne.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then came that attempt of Bray to cut -Corkey out, and, being myself a tremendous -personal chum of Corkey’s, I wished he had -succeeded; but he didn’t, and even his -fighting didn’t take Milly. After a month -of giving her things to eat and so on, he -said it was his red hair that stood between -them, and told Fowle he didn’t care a straw -about her; but from the way he went on -to Corkey minimus, any fool could see he -really cared a lot. The chap called Fowle -comes in here. This “obscene Fowle,” as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>we called him out of Virgil, being really a -term in a crib applied to harpies, though he -would have run if a mouse had squeaked at -him, was yet responsible for more fights -than any fellow in the school. He sneaked -about, asking chaps if they gave one another -“best,” and when at last he found -two who didn’t funk each other, though -they might be perfectly good friends, he -never rested until there was a fight. He -got kicked sometimes, but not enough. -That was owing to the fact that his hampers -from home were most extraordinary. -They came on Roman feast days, because -he was a Roman Catholic by religion; and -some fellows even said the more you kicked -Fowle the more you were likely to get -from the hampers. That was rot, of course, -and a jolly suspicious thing happened once. -Newnes--a chap in the lower Fifth--kicked -Fowle the very morning before a hamper -came; and that same evening, after prayers, -Fowle gave Newnes about half a whacking -big melon, and the next day Newnes jolly -near died. Fowle swore he hadn’t put anything -in the melon, but it is bosh to say -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>that half a melon, if it’s all right, is going -to do a chap any harm. Anyway, we rather -funked Fowle’s hampers afterwards.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, this wretched, obscene Fowle met -me one day licking his fat lips and showing -great excitement. So I knew he’d probably -worked up a fight; but it wasn’t that, though -something worse. He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Where’s Corkey minimus? Bray wants -him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What for?” I said. I may mention that -I am called McInnes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“As a matter of fact, he’s heard something, -and he says, though he’s sorry, he’s got to -lick Corkey.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Fowle smacked his beastly mouth as if -he’d got pine-apple drops in it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What’s Corkey done?” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s about Milly Dunston. Young Corkey -talks jolly big with her, and doesn’t even -speak civil of his friends. By quite an accident -I was passing through the shrubbery -from Browne’s house to the chapel yesterday, -and I went by the summer-house, which -is out of bounds, and couldn’t help overhearing -Milly and Corkey minimus, who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>were there. And Corkey distinctly said -that Bray was as fiery as his hair, and that -he had no more control of himself than a -burning mountain; and Milly laughed.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And you sneaked off and told Bray?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“As his chum I had to.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah, then I shall tell Corkey what you -heard, being his chum.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I shouldn’t,” said Fowle. “It’s only -making mischief. Besides, Bray won’t take -an apology now. He says he’s stood all that -flesh and blood can stand. Those were his -very words. In fact, I’m looking for Corkey -minimus at this moment to tell him that -Bray wants him up in the ‘gym.’”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“To lick him?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Fowle smacked his lips again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He’s brought it on himself.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well,” I said, “I’ll give the message. -You can go back and tell Bray you’ve told -me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’d rather have done it myself,” said -Fowle, regretfully, as though he was being -robbed of tuck.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, you won’t,” I answered him, being -pretty sick with the worm of a chap by that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>time. “You go back and say that Corkey -will turn up in ten minutes.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then he cleared out reluctantly, leaving -this tremendous responsibility entirely on -my hands.</p> - -<h3 class='c007'>II</h3> - -<p class='c008'>I went off there and then for Corkey. -It’s a bit of a jar for a chap to get a message -like that unexpectedly, and I didn’t -know what advice to give. Corkey major -was no good. If I’d told him he would -have blinked through his goggles and have -said some bosh--very likely in Latin. And -Corkey minor, being thousands of miles -away, it looked blue, because you can’t ask -anybody but a chap’s own brothers to take -up a matter like this. I couldn’t lick Bray -myself, or I would have.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The next minute I met Corkey himself, -and, from an awful rum look about him, I -thought for a moment he’d had the licking -already. But he hadn’t, and before I could -speak he said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“McInnes, I’ve got to fight Bray.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>“My dear chap, you couldn’t,” I began.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I know,” he answered, “but I’ve got to. -Things have happened. Listen to this. I’ve -just left Milly, and she’s in a frightful bate. -I shouldn’t have thought a girl could have -got in such a rage without hurting herself. -Bray told Fowle that there were as good fish -in the sea as ever came out of it--meaning -Milly; and Fowle wrote it on a bit of paper -and dropped it where Milly was bound to see -it. He didn’t put his name, but she knows -his writing. Now she’s pretty well mad, -and says it’s a disgrace that a thick-necked, -speckly, stumpy chap like Bray should be -cock of the lower school. Well, I said, very -likely it was, but I didn’t see how it could -be helped, him being such a fighter. Then -she tossed her hair about, and said, ‘I won’t -have anything more to do with the lower -school at all while he’s cock of it.’ Of course, -I didn’t think she included me, being--well, -her greatest pal alive since Corkey minor -went. So I said, ‘Quite right; I shouldn’t -look at them.’ Then she turned round -rather suddenly and said <em>I</em> was included. -So I said, ‘I should be only too glad to fight -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>him if there was a ghost of a chance, but -there isn’t. It’s no good pretending. He’s -four inches taller, and miles more round the -chest and round the arms, and ages older. -In fact, he could lick me with one hand tied -behind him.’ Then she said, ‘The days of -chivalry are dead,’ which she’d got out of a -book, of course; and she added that she was -tired of all boys, and that a chap with eyes -like mine ought to have more ‘devil’ in him. -Yes, she used that word. I said, ‘What do -you want me to do?’ And she said, ‘Oh, -nothing. I wouldn’t have a hair of your -head singed for the world; only I thought -that it might interest you more than other -people to know I’d been insulted. Of course, -if it’s nothing to you--’ Then she stopped -and marched away, and I went after her and -asked her to explain, and she answered that -the explanation ought to come from me. -She said, ‘D’ you ever read dragon stories?’ -And I said, ‘Yes.’ Then she went on, ‘Well, -in all the ones I’ve read, if a lady asked anybody -to kill a dragon, the person didn’t say -that the dragon could beat him with one -paw tied behind it, even though he thought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>so; but he jolly well went and did the best -he could.’ Naturally, after that I saw what -she meant, and I said, ‘Oh, all right, Milly; -of course, if you’ve been insulted, I must -make the beggar apologize--or try to.’ ‘Yes,’ -she said, cheering up like anything; ‘you -are my own precious champion, and I love -you.’ I tell you all this because you’re my -chum, and you’ll have to be my second. And -if I can even black his eye before he settles -me, it will be something.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, I call it a chouse,” I said. “She -might as well have asked you to fight Blanchard -or Sims. Look at your arms, not to -mention anything else; they’re like cabbage-stalks.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, I know all that,” said Corkey minimus, -“and it’ll be rather rotten for her if -he kills me. But the thing’s got to be done, -and the sooner it’s over the better.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then I suddenly remembered Bray’s message, -and told Corkey. He seemed surprised.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He can’t lick me on the spot if I challenge -him to fight in a regular way, can -he?” he asked, but rather doubtfully.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I said it seemed to me he couldn’t. Then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>we went up to the “gym,” where Bray was -talking to about four chaps, including -Fowle.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, you’ve come, you kid, have you? -You’d better not keep me waiting another -time when I send for you,” he began. “Now -I’m going to lick you for cheek.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What cheek?” Corkey minimus said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Fowle heard you say I was as fiery as -my hair.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, Fowle, he hears a lot, I know.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Did you say it or didn’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, I did, and I say it again; and -you’re a dirty bully too.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bray came quite close to Corkey minimus, -and put his face so near that their noses were -almost touching, like cats do when they’re -going to have a row on a wall.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Say that just once more if it isn’t troubling -you too much,” said Bray.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ll say it as often as you like,” answered -young Corkey, keeping his eye on Bray’s, -“and I’ll say another thing too, which is, -that before you talk so big about me being -a ‘kid’ and licking me, you’d better find out -first if I give you ‘best.’”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>“Golly!” said Bray, grinning like mad, -“don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, I don’t; and I’ll fight you properly -with seconds the first minute we -can.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Corkey minimus had certainly come out -of it fine so far, and I only wished he could -fight as well as he talked. Of course, from -Bray’s point of view, it was the best thing -that could have happened, because now he -had a right to lick Corkey, and a right to -lick him as badly as he could. The bell -rang a minute afterwards, and going in it -was settled the fight should come off next -Wednesday, that being a half-holiday. Part -of Merivale Woods skirted the cricket-field, -and as the second eleven, to which Bray belonged, -wasn’t playing a match, everything -suited very comfortably. Blanchard, the -cock of the school, agreed to umpire, and he -and another chap in the Fifth very kindly -promised to carry young Corkey home by a -secluded way if he was too much smashed -to walk. Fowle seconded Bray, and I saw -Bray teaching him how to fan with a towel -and spurt water over a fellow’s face between -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>the rounds. Of course, it was about as -good fun as killing rats with a stick for -Bray.</p> - -<h3 class='c007'>III</h3> - -<p class='c008'>Corkey minimus saw Milly once or twice -before the fight, and he said he couldn’t -make out whether she was going mad or -what. One minute she wanted him to fight, -the next she implored him not to; one -minute she hoped he would mutilate Bray -to pieces, the next she blubbed and prayed -him if ever he had any liking for her to give -Bray “best.” She said she kept dreaming -of him brought back stark and stiff; and -then, when he began to think she meant it, -she called him her “knight” and her “hero” -and her “King Arthur” and other frightful -rot, and actually wanted him to wear one of -her Sunday gloves under his shirt at the -time of fighting! Corkey minimus said he -very likely wouldn’t wear a shirt; and -then she thought he might hang it--I -mean the glove--round his neck by a bit -of string!</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>“Blessed if I shall ever feel quite the -same to her after this,” said Corkey.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It seems rather rough to get broken up -for life to please a skimpy girl,” I said. -Then he burst out as red in the face as an -apple, and told me he would not hear a word -against Milly, so I dried up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There were three days before the fight, -and Corkey minimus trained for it, and gave -away his pudding at dinner in exchange for -the meat of the chaps who sat next to him. -But you can’t get your muscle up in a day -or two like that, and it only made him awfully -thirsty.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The day came at last, and I may as well -go on to the fight itself. The First were -having a big match on our own ground, so -nobody paid any attention to us, and we -arranged a game that should have Corkey, -Bray, and me on the same side. Then, -when our chaps were in, we three sneaked -away into the plantations, behind some holly-trees -and a woodstack. Bray arranged all -the preliminaries as cheerful as a bird, and -Blanchard said they were right. They -marked out a ring and ran a string round -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>and arranged corners for the seconds; and -I saw that the obscene Fowle had towels -and bottles of water and a basin--all, of -course, for Bray between the rounds. Corkey -minimus was rather waxy with me for -not bringing the same for him; but I’d -brought a sponge, which I know is a thing -a second chucks up in the air when his man -is done for; and I explained and showed -it to Corkey; and he thanked me and said -he supposed that was about the only thing -he should want. Blanchard said the rounds -were to be two minutes long each, and -Bray grumbled because they ought by rights -to be three. But Blanchard told him to -shut up and begin. When we saw Bray take -his shirt off I told Corkey he ought to, and -he did. Then Blanchard laughed and said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“By gum! they peel rather different!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bray was like a barrel, with muscles a lot -bigger than hen’s eggs on his arms. Corkey -minimus seemed to be all ribs somehow, -with arms about as lean as rulers. I told -him to keep moving about and try and puff -Bray a bit if he had time, and he said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“All right, I’ll try. If I can get a smack -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>at his face, so as to black an eye or something, -and show I’ve hit him before he does -for me, I don’t care.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I will say for Corkey minimus that he -had about the best pluck I ever saw in a -chap. He was quite calm, and just his -usual color; and when Bray tossed him -for corners Corkey won; and Blanchard -said I picked the right corner for him. -Then he told them to fight fair, and said -“Time!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I’d prayed Corkey to try and surprise -Bray at the very start if he could, and have -a hit at Bray’s face the moment they began. -And I’m blessed if he didn’t go and do it! -Bray began fiddling about jolly scientifically -with his hands, and I fancy he just squinted -down to see if his feet were scientific too. -At the same moment Corkey buzzed round -his right and let Bray have it fairly on the -nose. Bray jumped and looked about as -much surprised as if he’d been struck by -lightning; and Blanchard said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“First blood for Corkey minimus!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I yelled--I oughtn’t to have, but I did--because -to see blood dropping about on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>Bray’s chest was a fine sight. He sniffed -and went for Corkey smiling. The smile -was the beastliest part of it, for I hoped he -would have got his wool off a bit and been -wild. But he wasn’t, and when he began -to hit, Corkey got flustered and swung about -like a windmill and caught it pretty hot. -Yet he jerked his head so jolly quick that -he didn’t get more than about four smacks -on it in the first round, though his body, -which was white by nature, was pretty soon -covered with red marks. He said they didn’t -hurt, and I cleaned him up and blew water -over him at the end of the round. His lip -was bleeding like mad, but luckily inside, -where his tooth had cut it; and he swallowed -all the blood, so nobody knew; besides -which the blood wasn’t lost. Bray -flung himself down in his corner, and Fowle -looked after him; and even at a solemn -time like that I laughed, and so did Corkey -minimus, because Fowle tried to be too -clever, and spurted a lot of water out of -his mouth into Bray’s eye. Then Bray -told him that after the fight he’d tie him -in knots and kick him, looking forward to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>which, of course, wrecked Fowle’s enjoyment -entirely.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Blanchard said “Time!” again awfully -soon, and I saw Bray meant settling Corkey -now, because his reputation as a fighter was -at stake, and he knew Corkey hoped to get -through three rounds with luck. So Bray -began hitting him like hammers, and though -I was about as sorry for Corkey minimus as -a chap could be, nobody would have been -able to help admiring the way Bray hit. It -was just at the end of this round, when -Corkey had been knocked down once, but -got up again, that the awful rum thing with -Milly Dunston happened.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Suddenly, without any warning, there was -a noise like fowls getting up a hedge, and -she rushed out from behind the woodstack -with her eyes blazing and her hair streaming -like a comet in a bate. She’d been running -a good way, I should think, and she tore -right into the ring straight at Bray, and not -trusting to words at a time like that, and -not remembering her father was a clergyman, -or anything, slapped his face both -sides, and jolly hard too. Bray swore the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>horriblest words I ever heard used by a -chap, because she’d given him more in half -a second than Corkey could have in a year. -Then he got into his shirt upside-down and -hooked it with Fowle, but not before he -heard her say:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You little, fat, red-headed coward to -fight and try and murder a boy half your age -and size! I wish I could kill you, I do. It’s -shameful to think you’re an English boy at -all!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then she turned on the chaps from the -Fifth, and told Blanchard he was a disgrace -to the school. So they cleared out too; and -then she cried over Corkey, and said she -would rather have been torn to pieces by -unchained monsters than have let him be -mangled like he was. And Corkey, who was -pretty well dazed, forgave her, and told her -kindly to go away. And she gasped and -gurgled, and went.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I took Corkey back, and one or two things -got to be known. It came out that Fowle -had told Milly the place and the hour of the -fight, but only after she had sworn--on some -rotten saint Fowle knew--that she would not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>tell a single soul about it. She kept her -swear all right, but came herself. And when -Bray got to hear how it was she came--of -course, thinking Corkey had told her, which -he would rather have died than do--then -Bray tried a lot of Chinese tortures on Fowle -that he’d seen at a wax-works. And chaps -who saw it said that Fowle was so excited at -the time that he called upon about twenty -different well-known Bible characters by -name to come and help him and destroy -Bray. But they didn’t.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As for Corkey minimus, the things he got -from Milly after that fight you wouldn’t -believe. There were bottles of stuff to rub -bruises with, and lozenges and grapes, and -some muck for his eye, and little baskets -of strawberries, and jolly books and rosebuds. -She told the Doctor about slapping -Bray’s face, and wrote a long letter of apology -afterwards; and a week later she broke -it to Corkey minimus that she was going to -a boarding-school herself next term; which -she did.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Corkey told me about it he added:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And she’s going to write me letters, because -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>she’s said several times that there’s -only one chap in the world for her now, and -I’m the chap.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I shouldn’t think she could change her -mind after all that’s happened,” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And Corkey minimus said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I bet she will when Corkey minor turns -up again, especially if he brings rum things -with him from Australia. And you needn’t -repeat it, but to you, McInnes, as my chum, -I say that I don’t care how soon he does -come back either.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Which showed that there was more sense -in Corkey minimus than you might have -thought.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span> - <h2 class='c003'>The Piebald Rat</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>It was all the result of old Briggs asking -the Doctor if he might “instil the lads -with a wholesome fondness for natural history.” -That’s how he put it, because I -heard him; and the Doctor said it was an -admirable notion, and would very probably -keep some boys out of mischief on half-holidays. -It also kept some boys out of bounds -on half-holidays; and after a time I think -the Doctor was pretty savage with old Briggs, -and wished he’d stuck to his regular work, -which was writing and drawing and such -like; because, when one or two of the chaps -really got keen about natural history, and -even chucked cricket for butterflies and -beetles, others, who didn’t care a straw -about it, pretended they did to gain their -own ends. And it was these chaps, if you -understand, who finally made the Doctor so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>sick with natural history generally and old -Briggs for starting it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>My chum, West, began the rage for study -of “our humble relations,” as old Briggs -called everything down to wood-lice. He -let it be generally known that he had two live -lizards in his desk; and, this being the best -thing that West had ever thought of, the -idea caught on well. I had a dormouse myself, -my name being Ashby minor, and Ashby -major kept a spider pretty nearly as big -as a young bird, which he had poked out of -a hole in the playground wall. He caged -it in a tin match-box, and fed it with blue-bottles -and wasps. At least, he got blue-bottles -and wasps for it, but the fool wouldn’t -eat them; and after a week he found it with -its legs all tucked up as neatly as anything. -Only it was dead. I thought the match-box -must have been too tight a fit for it, but -Ashby major did not. He believed there -was something about a tin match-box which -must be rather poisonous for out-door spiders.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then chaps went on collecting till it got -to be swagger to keep big live things in your -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>desk; and the bigger the thing the more -swagger it was.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Maine, generally known as Freckles, had -a couple of guinea-pigs in his desk for a week. -Then Mannering, the classical master in the -Fifth, who must have had a nose like a gimlet, -smelt them at prayers, happening to -come in late and kneeling down by Freckles -at the time. The Doctor didn’t make much -fuss then, because that was just at the beginning -of the business; only he said a desk -was not the place for guinea-pigs, and added -that a chap in Freckles’s position in the -school ought to have known it. He let the -gardener look after them from that time -forward. But Freckles naturally lost all -interest in them after the gardener had -them; because a guinea-pig merely <em>as</em> a -guinea-pig is nothing. Anyhow, it was -rough on him to be landed over it, because, -as a matter of fact, guinea-pigs have no -scent worth mentioning, and nobody but -Mannering would have spotted them. After -that Gideon and Brookes caught a blind-worm -one foot two inches long; and Gideon -sold his half for fivepence, so Brookes got -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>it all. Nobody knew what a blind-worm -likes to eat, unfortunately, and it died, but -not for a fortnight. Then there was another -scene with my dormouse, which led to tremendous -things. There’s a hole in a desk -where the ink-pot goes in, and one day my -mouse got out through it, having climbed -up two dictionaries and a Greek Testament -to do so. It happened old Briggs himself -was taking the Lower Fourth, which is my -class, and I hoped it would be all right. -But he didn’t seem friendly over it, and I -noticed, when he told us to find the mouse, -he put his feet upon the rungs of his chair. -It’s a rum thing about old Briggs that he -doesn’t care much for natural history objects -while they’re alive; he likes them dead and -dried, or stuffed and pinned on cards, or in -glass cases all labelled and neat. My dormouse -gave us a jolly good hunt round, -then it finally tripped over a lead-pencil and -got its tail and hind legs into West’s ink. So -we caught it, and I was drying it with a piece -of blotting-paper, and old Briggs was just -telling us that dormice belong to a genus -of rodents called Myoxus, and are allied to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>mice, though they have a squirrel’s habits, -which he seemed to think was a pity, when -Dunston came in. The Doctor asked particulars, -looked as if he could have jolly well -killed my mouse, which was shivering rather -badly owing to the ink on its hinder parts, -and said once for all that he would allow no -animals of any kind inside any of the desks -or in school.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then, unluckily, as an afterthought, he -demanded a clearance on the spot; and he -was pretty well staggered to find the result.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I will ask you, Ferrars, as head boy of -the class, and one, I am happy to think, -above any of this childish folly, to inspect -the desks, one by one, and report to me -where you find indications of life,” said the -Doctor.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Ferrars is always right with the Doctor, -chiefly because he has a face like a stone -angel in church, and a very smooth voice, -and a remarkably swagger knowledge of the -Scriptures. He is also a tremendous worker, -and will go into the Upper Fourth next term -as sure as eggs. It was jolly awkward for -Ferrars then, because he happened to be one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>of the keenest natural history chaps of all, -and had a piebald rat, which even fellows in -the Sixth had offered him half-a-crown and -three shillings for, yet he would not part with -it. So, though we didn’t like him much, we -felt almost sorry for the fix he was in now. -Of course, we thought that such a demon on -Religious Knowledge as Ferrars would drag -out his piebald rat right away, and perhaps -even give it to the Doctor, or offer to sell it -for the alms-box; but he didn’t. He got up, -rather white about the gills, and opened the -desks one by one; and a jolly happy family -it was. Only the Doctor scattered the things -to the four winds, till there wasn’t an atom -of natural history left in the whole class-room -except Ferrars’s piebald rat, snug in -his desk.</p> - -<p class='c000'>First Fowle, who goes in for water things, -had to empty his jam-jar of tadpoles out -into the playground, which was a beastly -cruel thing to make him do, because they -all died, still being in the gill stage; then -Freckles was sent off with a young rabbit to -the hay-field, and he got caned too, because, -strangely enough, the Doctor hadn’t forgotten -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>his guinea-pigs; and Morrant’s two -sparrows were let go, which was no kindness -to them, because Morrant had cut their -wings so jolly short it would have taken -them months to grow enough feathers to fly -with, and meantime a cat got them both; -and Playfair’s mole, which, by-the-way, had -been queer for some time, owing to having -no earth to burrow in, was ordered to be -sent to the cricket-field. There were a lot -of other things, but Corkey minimus scored -rather, because his goat-sucker moth laid a -hundred and fourteen eggs on Todhunter’s -algebra a few hours before it was let free. -Corkey minimus says a goat-sucker moth’s -nothing worth mentioning after it’s laid -eggs, but the eggs turn into fine caterpillars.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The few things the Doctor didn’t know -what to do with, and didn’t like to have -killed, he said must be given to the gardener. -He thought it would be better to -put my mouse out of its misery, and turned -it over on my hand with a gold pencil-case, -and said it had probably got a chill -to its vital organs and would die; but old -Briggs explained that it might live if put -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>in cotton-wool; so the gardener looked to -it, and it did live, and I took it home at -the end of that term, and have it still, -though it is getting oldish now, and has lost -half its tail. But it’s a good mouse yet.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Of course the extraordinary thing was -Ferrars. After the Doctor had gone, old -Briggs, to whom he had whispered something -before he went, gave out that his natural -history half-hours would be suspended -for the rest of the term; then I got a word -with Ferrars. I said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“However did you have the cheek--you -supposed to be such a saint?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t know. Something came over me -to do it. I’ve got a jolly peculiar feeling -to that rat. It’s not an ordinary rat. I’m -wrapped up in it. Even my respect for the -Doctor couldn’t stand against it. I know -what you chaps think. I dare say you reckon -I’m a hound, but I couldn’t help doing -what I did. Somehow that rat’s a sort of -‘mascotte’ to me. A mascotte’s a thing that -brings luck. All my best luck’s happened -since I had it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>Of course, when a chap goes on like that, -what can you do? I didn’t understand Ferrars. -He seemed to me to be simply talking -rot. So I said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, it’s pretty measly, considering the -opinion the Doctor’s got of you. I sha’n’t -try to score off your rat, because I know it’s -a jolly fine one, and I like it; but Freckles -or somebody will very likely kill it after -this.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He looked in a fair funk when the dreadful -thought of having his rat killed came to -him. Before the end of that day he spoke to -every chap in the class separately, and all -but three promised and swore not to lay a -finger on the rat. But Freckles, Murdoch, -and Morrant wouldn’t swear. Finally he -paid Morrant sixpence and so got him over, -and Murdoch he let crib off him in “prep.” -three times; and Freckles, who was an awfully -sportsmanlike chap really, said he was -only rotting all the time, and would be the -last to do a classy rat like Ferrars’s any harm. -In fact, he said he’d much sooner kill Ferrars -himself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mind you, though, of course, it was simply -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>barbarous for Ferrars to think that his piebald -rat could have any effect on his work, -yet he proved to me that his success in school -and his great popularity with the Doctor -dated from the coming of the thing. When -he first got it, it was a mere cub-rat, so -to say; now, though not a year old, it had -turned into as fine a rat as you could wish -to meet anywhere. In appearance it had -pink eyes and a white head, and a fairish -amount of white fur about the body, which -got thinner on its stomach, so that you could -see the pink skin through to some extent. -But the piebaldness of the rat was the great -feature. It had two big round patches of -fur like the common or garden rat, and one -small patch at the nape of its neck; and in -addition to this it had one large patch of -beautiful yellowish fur, such as you chiefly -see on guinea-pigs. Its tail was pink and -long, and quite hairless.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Ferrars often kept back good things at -meals for it, and the bond between them -seemed to grow rummer and rummer, till he -let the rat get on his mind, and Wilson said -he was getting dotty about it. Which I think -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>was true, for one day, going into the class-room -to get a knife from my desk, I saw -Ferrars with his rat out, talking to it. He -was swatting like anything in play-hours for -a special Old Testament history prize, and -he had the rat and the Bible and various -books of reference all before him. Then, -not knowing I was there, he spoke:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I must win it, ‘Mayne Reid.’ Stick to -me this time, old chap, and see me through.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He called his rat “Mayne Reid” because -that was his favorite author.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And “Mayne Reid” seemed to understand, -and he turned his pink eyes on to -the open Bible and walked over it. Finding -he’d walked over the ninth chapter of -the Second Book of Kings, Ferrars got excited, -and, seeing me, said, “By Jove! then -I’ll learn that chapter by heart, though it is -so long. It’s good, exciting stuff, anyway, -and I bet my rat walking over it means that -there’ll be a question about Jehu and Jezebel.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’ll go cracked about that rat,” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s part of my life,” he answered. “I -know it seems very peculiar, and so it is, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>and I don’t suppose such a thing ever happened -before, but something tells me my -prosperity and success is all bound up in -that rat. He’s a familiar spirit, in fact, like -Saul had. If he died I should never do -much more good, and very likely stick in -this class for the rest of my days.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’d better not think like that,” I -said, “because rats are short-lived things, -owing to the nasty food they eat. Not that -‘Mayne Reid’ has nasty food; but all pink-eyed -animals are delicate, and you’ll have to -lose him sooner or later.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Ferrars didn’t take warning by me, but -after he really did win the Old Testament -prize, and there really was a question about -Jezebel, he made a sort of idol out of the -rat, and some chaps declared he said his -prayers to it. I know he constantly bought -it cocoa-nut chips, which it was very fond -of. He trained it, too, to live in his breast-pocket, -and I often saw him glancing down -in class just to get a glimpse of its little eyes -looking up at him. That taking the piebald -rat into class shows the lengths Ferrars ran. -The whole thing was very peculiar. Some -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>chaps said there was a strong likeness growing -up between Ferrars and the rat; and -certainly his thin, white face had a rattish -look sometimes. Other fellows told him his -rat was an evil spirit, and would end by -doing him a bad turn, but Ferrars turned -upon them and jawed them with such frightful -language that they never said it again. -Meanwhile the Doctor went on taking to -Ferrars more and more, and there seemed -every chance of his getting the whole Bible -by heart before he left Merivale.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then came the end of the affair like this. -Ferrars was so dependent on his rat now -that he wouldn’t do a lesson without it, and -he lugged it fearlessly into the Doctor’s -study at those times, fortunately rare, when -the Doctor took our class himself in Scripture. -But Ferrars was such a flyer that we -all got tarred with the same brush; and the -Doctor, after questioning Ferrars for half an -hour about Bible people we’d never even -heard of, and getting a string of dead-right -answers out of him, would dismiss us all in -great good temper, forgetting that he’d only -been having a go at one chap.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>A day came when the Doctor left us for -five minutes in the middle of this class, and -while most of us had a hurried dip into the -plagues of Egypt, which was the business -in hand, Ferrars, who knew as much about -the plagues as ever Moses did, just got out -his rat and gave it a bit of almond and a -short breather of a yard or so along the -floor. But, the Doctor coming back suddenly, -he had only just time to pop it into -his pocket, and even then he put the rat -into an unusual pocket which it was not -accustomed to, and didn’t like, namely, a -trouser-pocket. Ferrars also shoved a -handkerchief down in the pocket to steady -the rat.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then I saw an awful rum expression -come over him, and he grabbed at the -pocket and his mouth fell open, and his face -got the color of new putty. At the same -time I saw his eyes turn to a big bookshelf -with glass doors against the side of the room.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What’s the matter, Ferrars?” said the -Doctor. “You appear unwell.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nothing, sir; merely a little passing -sickness, I think.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>“Then withdraw, my boy, and ask the -matron to give you a few drops of brandy -and water. You need not dine to-day,” said -the Doctor, very kindly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But Ferrars wouldn’t withdraw. He knew -“Mayne Reid” had got through his pocket -and down his trouser-leg; he also knew it was -now behind the bookshelf, and might reappear -at any moment. So he said he was -better, and, actually! that it would be a -grief to him to miss one of the Doctor’s own -lessons.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But afterwards, when the rat didn’t come -out and the class was dismissed, Ferrars was -frightful to see. His hair all got on end -somehow, and his eyes swelled and stuck out -of his head like glass beads, and his cheeks -got hollow. He ran awful risks going into -the Doctor’s study that day, but the rat -wouldn’t come out, and Ferrars looked old -enough to be a master when he went to bed, -though only eleven and a half really.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“One of two things has happened,” he -said to me, for we were in the same dormitory; -“either it’s got wedged in behind -the bookshelf and will die if not let out, or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>else there was a rat-hole there, and it went -down and has joined common rats, and become -a sort of king rat among them.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Or been killed,” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, they would not kill it,” he answered. -“Anyway, to-morrow, after the Doctor’s class -is over, and everybody has gone, I shall stop -and make a clean breast of it, and ask him, -for the sake of humanity, to have the bookshelf -moved. But it’s all up with me if the -rat has lost its feeling towards me and won’t -come back; only if it was stuck and couldn’t -come back, that’s different.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He didn’t sleep much that night, but he -said some prayers, which was a thing he -didn’t often do; and of course he was praying -that the piebald rat might be allowed to -return.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But next day, after the Scripture class, in -which Ferrars was not nearly so much to -the front as usual, and got regularly muddled -over a potty question about Jacob, the -Doctor saved him the trouble of asking -about his rat. He--the Doctor, I mean--had -been jolly glum all through class, and -when it was ended he did a rum thing, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>which was awful to see, knowing all we did. -He told us to keep our places, then went -to the fireplace and picked up the shovel. -From the face of it he removed a bit of newspaper, -and under the newspaper was “Mayne -Reid.” His pink eyes had gone foggy, and -there was a little streak of blood on his -mouth. Otherwise his body looked all right.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now here,” said the Doctor, in an -awfully solemn way, “we have a dead, piebald -rat. There can be no outlet for error -concerning such a rat as this. To have seen -such a rat is to remember it. Already three -classes have been before me to-day, but nobody -knew anything about this animal. That -it was a tame rat its fatness and sleekness -testify. Moreover, the piebald rat is an outcome -of artificiality. A wild rat in a state of -nature is brown or black, as the case may -be. This rat, then, had an owner, and that -owner brought it into my study--<em>my study!</em>--and -suffered it to escape here. That I do -well to be angry you will the more easily -understand when I tell you that the unsavory -creature was upon my desk last -night, and has scratched and even eaten -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>some papers whereon were notes for my -next sermon. It was discovered this morning -by one of the domestics. She, seeing -some object moving upon my desk, struck -with the broom-handle, and destroyed this -rat. Now let there be no prevarication or -evasion of the questions I am going to put -to you. First, I wish to know if this rat -belongs, or rather belonged, to any among -you; and, secondly, I desire to learn whether, -supposing the rat be not the property of any -present, you happen to know whose property -it is, or rather was?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I stole a look at Ferrars, and he appeared -so frightful to see, that for some reason I -thought I’d try and help him. So, like a -fool, I was just going to speak when young -Corkey minimus did. He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Please, sir, it might be a foreign sort of -rat that came over in that box of pineapples -and things that Ashby major had sent him -from the West Indies.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“When I desire your aid in the elucidation -of this problem I will apply for it, -Corkey minimus,” answered the Doctor, so -Corkey dried up.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>Then, in a sort of voice that was strange -to us, and seemed to come from his stomach -or somewhere new, Ferrars spoke, and I -never saw a chap look so ghastly. His eyes -were fixed on the rat, and he came forward -slowly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Please, sir, it was my rat,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yours, Ferrars! <em>You</em> to disobey! You, -of all boys, to set my orders at defiance!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It wasn’t an ordinary rat, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I can see what sort of rat it was, sir, for -myself,” thundered the Doctor. “This it -is to consider a boy, to devote thought to -him, to particularly commend him for his -theological knowledge.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t take any credit for knowing anything -now, sir. It was the rat as much as me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Robert Ferrars!” said the Doctor, in his -caning voice, “you are now adding wicked -buffoonery to an act in itself sufficiently disreputable!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I can’t explain, sir; I don’t mean any -buffoonery. That rat was more to me than -you’d think. It--it <em>did</em> help me somehow, -and now it’s dead it wouldn’t be sportsmanlike -to it to say not. And if you’ll let me -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>b-bury it properly, I’ll be very thankful to -you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Doctor looked at Ferrars awfully close -during this speech.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Either you are lying,” he said, “or you -suffer from some hysterical and neurotic -condition, Robert Ferrars, which I have -neither suspected nor discovered until this -moment.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then he told us to go; but Ferrars he -kept for half an hour; and when Ferrars -came in to dinner I saw he’d been blubbing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He explained to me after we’d gone to -bed. He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, he didn’t cane me or anything. He -just talked, and told me a lot about several -things I didn’t know, and said that familiar -spirits were specially barred in the Bible. -I never thought he’d have even tried to understand -me; but he did, and he quite saw -my side about the rat. He said kind words -over it, too, and was sorry it was dead. And -I’ve got to see Doctor Barnes to-morrow too, -though, of course, it’s only having my rat -on my mind that’s upset me. And he let -me have it to b-bury gladly.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>“Where shall you arrange the rat?” I -said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’m sending it home in a stays-box that -Jane gave me. I’ve written to my sister -where to bury it. Jane it was who killed -it. She cried like anything when I told -her what ‘Mayne Reid’ was to me. But -he’s in the book-post by now, beautifully -done up in shavings and fresh geranium -leaves. It’s no good talking any more. -Only I will say that if he was a familiar -spirit, he was a jolly good one, very different -to the sort barred in the Scriptures. I -don’t know how I’ll get on in the exams. -now. I wish I was dead, too.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then he sniffed a bit, and went to sleep.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span> - <h2 class='c003'>Browne, Bradwell, and Me</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>There’s more stuff torked about fagging -at school than anything else in the -world, as far as I can see; and being the -smalest boy but two at Dunston’s, and a fag -myself, I ought to know. Of corse, fags do -get it pretty hot sometimes if they happen -to fag for a beast, but big fellows aren’t -beasts to small ones as a general thing. I’m -sure Bradwell was the best chap that ever -came to Dunston’s, and when he was expelled -over the seege in the Wing Dormatery--him -and Trelawny--I felt frightful. I’m -Watson minor myself, my brother being -Watson major, one of the reserves for the -second eleven and captain of the third.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The thing I’m going to write out happened -just before the seege, and was all over before -that; and it shows what a fag can do. It -also shows what a jolly good thing it is for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>big fellows to treat fags well, and give them -odds and ends so as to get their affecksun. -If I hadn’t felt what I did to Bradwell, I -shouldn’t have run the awful risks I did for -him. What I did certinly ruined a great -project of Bradwell’s, and upsett him a good -bit at the time. But he said afterwards, -when the blow had fallen, and when he could -look back and think of it without smacking -my head, that I had ment well. I remember -his very words, for that matter. He -said, “Your intenshuns were all right--I -will say that--but you’ve ruined my life.” -No chap could say farer than that; and, -mind you, I did ruin his life in a way. I’ve -heard many fellows say Bradwell was a -bounder by birth; but he never was to -me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, Bradwell had a great admeration -for Mabel Dunston, the Doctor’s youngest -daughter but one, and she had an equal -great admeration for him, for two terms. -Bradwell, although a great sportsman in -other ways, was fond of girls. If he passed -a school of them he would look awfully rum -and reddish in the face an’ watery in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>eyes. Once, going with him to the playing-field -for a football match, he made the distance -half a mile longer by going up a side-street -to avoid the high-school girls; and I -asked him why, and he said it was cheek, but -told me all the same. He said, “You can’t -meet women got up like this.” Bradwell has -frightfully thin calves to his legs when seen -in “knickers,” though he is the best goalkeeper -that was ever known at Dunston’s. -Of course, his affair with Mabel Dunston -would never have got to be known by me but -for my great use to Bradwell in carrying -notes. Being in the Doctor’s house that -term I was easily able to do this, and there -was a jar of green stuff in the hall where she -told me to leave the notes, which I did. She -was fifteen, I believe, or else sixteen, but -well on in years anyway, and a few months -older than Bradwell. It was his general -brillance won her, for he could do anything, -and his father had plenty of money, being a -man like Whitely’s in London, only in the -North of England. Bradwell drew almost -as well as pictures in books, and he used to illustrate -the Latin grammar for his special -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>chums. There’s a part of the Latin grammar -called Syntax, which I haven’t come to -yet myself, but it has rather rummy things -in it, with both the Latin and English of -them. And Bradwell used to illustrate these -things; and he illustrated two in my grammar -out of puer kindness to me. One was, -“Balbus is crowning the boy’s head with a -garland”; and the other was, “A snake appeared -to Sulla while sacrifising”; and you -never saw anything better. They were done -on the margin in ink, and the snake appearing -to Sulla was about the queerest and best -thing even seen in a Latin grammar.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I have to tell you this because such a lot -happened owing to it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now Browne took my class, which is the -lowest in the school, and I am seventh in -it. And I gradually got to hate Browne, -because Bradwell did, and for other reesons -of my own to. Browne was said to be only -twenty-two, and he looked younger than -many of the chaps, his moustashe being -whitish and invisibel to the eye. He wore -necktyes which I remember hearing Mathers -say were an insult to nature, and would -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>have made a rainbow curl up and faint. We -always noticed, at arithmetic times, that -Browne, if he got a stumper, would put up -the lid of his private desk and hide behind -it--of course, looking the thing up in his -crib. Then he would wander round, as if -by accident, to the chap and do the sum off -quick while he remembered it. Bradwell -always hated him; and when he found that -Browne was very friendly with Mabel and -Mabel was very friendly with Browne, he -hated him far, far wurse.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bradwell and this girl had a row in the -shrubbery at the back of the chapel, and -I, being in the gardener’s potting-shed at -the time, feeding a cattipiller of mine, heard -it. Bradwell said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’m not blind, Mabel, I’ve seen it going -on ever since last term. You read his beastly -books, and leave rosebuds with scented -verbena leaves round them in that stone -urn at the gate when he comes down from -his house to class.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And she said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And why shouldn’t I? You must remember, -please, that I am my own mistress. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>Besides, the intelligents of a grown-up man -is very refreshing.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>For some reason Bradwell didn’t like this. -His voice squeaked up into his head in a -rather rum way when he answered:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“D’you call <em>him</em> a man? He hasn’t got -a muscle on him; and he doesn’t know more -than enough to teach the kids.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s merely mean jellousy,” said Mabel. -“Of course, he doesn’t talk to <em>you</em>, or -show you what is in him. But he tells me -all about his secret life, and very butiful it -is. He is a jenius, in fact.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If it comes to that, what can he do?” -said Bradwell, awfully clevverly. “Can he -draw?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, he doesn’t draw.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh! can he sing?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Can he play the piano?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now all of these things Bradwell could -do to perfecksun, so he got cheerfuller and -cheerfuller.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What <em>can</em> he do, then, besides jaw the -kids and always sneak to the Doctor?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>“I never saw such jellousy as this,” said -Mabel; “but if you must know I’ll tell you -what he can do: he can write poetry out of -his own head, and he has got a solid book of -it reddy to print some day--there!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I suppose Bradwell couldn’t write poetry. -Anyway, he got very down in the face at -this. He didn’t say anything--appeering to -be frightfully shocked at what he’d heard. -Then Mabel said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“When you can quote Browning and Byron -and Shelley, and write poems yourself, it will -be soon enough to sneer at Mr. Browne.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You love him,” said Bradwell, in a very -tragik voice.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t love anybody but my own family,” -said Mabel; “but I admire him, and I -admire his poetry, which is very much out -of the common indeed.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s all over then, I suppose,” said -Bradwell.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied -to him. “A thing that has never -begun can’t be all over”; which words of -Mabel’s seemed to knock the heart out of -Bradwell.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>Then the gardener came along, and I -didn’t hear anything else. Of corse, I -couldn’t <em>help</em> hearing what I had done, -though I tried hard not to, and kept feeding -my catterpeller like anything all the -time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Two days after I had to carry another -note to Mabel, and found one waiting for -Bradwell in the usual place; so they must -have made it up. Then came the beginning -of my misforchunes with Browne. He found -the snake appeering to Sulla in my Latin -grammar, and called me up and said he -knew very well I hadn’t drawn it myself, -but wanted to know who had. He said it -was wrong to the Doctor to ruin our books, -and that he had seen in several different -books the same snake, evidently done by the -same boy, owing to them being so much -similar.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the very identical thing had happened -in another class--to Steggles, Bradwell -having drawn him the same picture; -and knowing what Steggles said, being a -chap who is frightfully cunning, I said the -same now to Browne. I said I left the book -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>on my desk, and somebody came along and -done it while I was out of the room. Browne -seemed inclined not to believe this. Anyway, -he took the Latin grammar away with -him. But I heard no more about it till the -next evening, when I wanted the book in -prep. Remembering Browne had it, I went -off to his study and knocked and walked in.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Browne wasn’t there for the moment, and -the room was empty. I took the opportunity -to look at a rather butiful tobacco-jar -of Browne’s which I have seen at a distance -on his mantlepiece many times. Passing -his table to get to it, I chanced to glance -there, and juge of my surprise when the -first words I saw at the top of a big sheet of -paper were, "To Mabel"! Underneeth was -a lot of writing, and the whole table seemed -to be littered with paper covered with small -bits of separate writing, much of it scratched -out and done over again. But the piece -with “To Mabel” at the top was all butiful -and clean, without anything scratched, -being, I suppose, the result of all the other -bits put together and neetly copied out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, there I was with my duty towards -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>Bradwell as his fag. Browne had evidently -done a verse out of his own head for Mabel -Dunston, and had written it in this butiful -style, on thick white paper, to send to her. -I felt if she got it, knowing what she’d said -to Bradwell about Browne, that it was certin -she would abbandon Bradwell, him not being -any good at poems. I wouldn’t have -done it for anybody else in the world <em>but</em> -Bradwell; I wouldn’t have done it at all -if I had known what the end of it was -going to be; but, anyway, at the time it -seemed to me, as Bradwell s fag, I ought to -do it; so I did.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I took the poem and rolled it up so as not -to hurt it, and hooked off to Bradwell. He -was in his study, and Trelawny, who shares -it with him, being out of the room, I was -able to explain. I said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If you please, Bradwell, I’ve come from -Mr. Browne’s study, and he was not there, -and happening by a curious axcident to -glance on the table I saw this. Knowing -about you and Mabel, and being your fag, I -took it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Took what?” said Bradwell.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>I put the thing in front of him, and he got -red and excited.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s a poem to Mabel by that beast -Browne,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then he read it out, half to himself, but -I heard. The thing ran like this:</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>"TO MABEL</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Oh let my Muse sing to the name of Mabel,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Whose azure eyes are fastened to my soul,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Like to forget-me-nots in button-hole.</div> - <div class='line'>To tell of my heart’s torment I’m unable.</div> - <div class='line'>My thoughts they spin; my brain it grows unstable</div> - <div class='line in2'>When fixed on Thee. Perchance it is my rôle</div> - <div class='line in2'>Never to reach my mad ambition’s Goal,</div> - <div class='line'>But to live ever ’midst scholastic babel.</div> - <div class='line in2'>Thy glances brighten all my lonely lot.</div> - <div class='line'>Prometheus-like a vulture gnaws my heart,</div> - <div class='line in2'>In biting blasts and under sunshine hot.</div> - <div class='line'>My dreams are shattered by a barbed dart,</div> - <div class='line in2'>And, waking wild, I scream that I may not</div> - <div class='line'>Whisper the oaths I yearn to Thee impart.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>I told Bradwell I didn’t quite understand -it, and he sat on me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You wouldn’t,” he said, “a kid like you. -But I do. It’s a sonnit, and an extramly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>fine one. I <em>hate</em> the chap, but it’s no good -pretending he’s not a poet, because this jolly -well proves he is. Look at the rimes and -the smoothness!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It seemed a heroik thing of Bradwell to -say that, feeling as he did to Browne. He -thought for a bit, but told me not to go.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Of corse,” he said, “this must be returned. -All’s fair in--in a case of this kind, -but--”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then he thought very deeply and read -the sonnit again. Suddenly he took a bit -of paper and copied down Browne’s poem -word for word. Then he told me to cut -back like lightning to Browne’s study, and -to put the poem back on his desk if I could--if -not, to most carefully keep it till the -first chance of getting it back to Browne’s -room without being spotted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’re a splendid fag,” he said, “and -I shan’t forget this. It’s the sort of thing -that squires did for their knights in olden -times; and they got good rewards too. Now -hook it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It’s worth a lot, mind you, to get praise -like that from such a chap as Bradwell.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>When I got back, Browne was rumaging -over his table and sweering a good deal in a -loud wisper. He told me to wait a minute, -and went off to look in his bedroom. Then -I seezed my opportunity, and slipped the -sonnit on his table under some papers. -When he came back he was worried, and -went on hunting till he found it. Then he -said “Ah!” to himself, and got pleasanter -and asked me what I wanted. I told him -my Latin grammar, and, being in a very -happy state now, owing to finding the poem, -he gave my book back and told me to clear -out; which I did.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After prep. I met Bradwell going in to -prayers, and he handed me a note for Mabel -to put in the usual place. He looked awfully -rum when he gave it to me, and he -saw that I saw he looked rum. So he said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t mind letting you know, owing -to your being such a good fag and my -trusting you as I do. You may read the -letter in prayers, then seal it down and put -it behind the pot of ferns in the hall in the -usual place.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Of corse, it wasn’t really a letter, or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>Bradwell wouldn’t have let me read it. It -was just Browne’s sonnit coppied out by -Bradwell word for word; and at the bottom -where the words, “What about poetry now?--A. -T. B.” A. T. B. are Bradwell’s initials, -his full name being Arthur Thomas Bradwell. -You see, he didn’t exsaxtly say he’d -<em>written</em> the sonnit. He only said, “What -about poetry now?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The excitement of it all kept me awake -for hours and hours through the night. I -don’t suppose any fag ever did more for a -big fellow than I had done for Bradwell that -day. Then I began to wonder when Browne -would send off his poem, and wether Mabel -would get them both together or one at -a time. You see, of corse, Browne would -send her the thing as original, and there -was nothing in Bradwell’s letter to exsaxtly -say he hadn’t written it; and puzzling the -thing out for hours and hours, I at last -came to the conklusion that she would find -it very difficult which to believe, because -how could she know which was telling the -truth to her? Then, about three or four in -the morning almost, I began to feel rather -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>terrible over it, because I thought of what -frightful trouble Browne must have had to -write the sonnit. He might have taken -terms and terms over it for all I could tell, -not, of corse, knowing myself how long it -took to write poetry. I felt rather sorry for -Browne; but after all a chap’s duty is to the -fellow he fags for before masters; and feeling -that, I went to sleep.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Three days later Bradwell had me in his -room and told me the end of it all, which -shows that a girl never does what you might -exspect.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“As a lesson to you, young Watson,” said -Bradwell, “I may tell you that my career -has been utterly blighted and my life ruined -by that business of the sonnit.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I said I was sorry to hear it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, blighted; and so’s his--I mean -Browne’s. She got my letter that night -and his next morning. That night she felt -all her old feeling for me return because of -the sonnit, thinking I’d done it. Then, -next morning, she got just the very same -stuff to a word from Browne, with a letter -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>saying he had burned the midnight oil to -compose it. Well, there you are. What -does she do? Insted of accepting my -statement, being the first, she argues in a -most elaborate way that I couldn’t possibly -have coppied from Browne, and Browne -couldn’t possibly have copied from me. -But it would have been to much of a coinsidence -if we’d both written exsaxtly the -same sonnit out of our own heads, so what -does she conklude?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I said I didn’t know.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why, fathead, that we both coppied it -from somebody else--out of some book by -some well-known proper dead poet. I’ve no -doubt now, on thinking over it, that Browne -<em>did</em> do that; because when I first read his -poem I could hardly believe that he had -written such real poetry, owing to the rimes -and smoothness. But it’s all over now. -She’s written a letter I can’t show you. To -hope even for her friendship wouldn’t be -any good. A girl hates a joke something -frightful.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How about Browne?” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She’s written to him also, asking him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>where he got the verses out of, and exsplaining -she doesn’t believe they are original, and -saying how another acquaintance of hers -had sent the very same lot the day before. -So now you see what a sinful mess you’ve -made of it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I said I did, but I felt it was my duty to -him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, I know,” he said; “but the question -is, What do I do now? You see ‘all’s -fair’ and all that; but now, being out of -the hunt, ought I to throw up the sponge -and tell the truth, or ought I not?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t know, Bradwell,” I said; “but -anyway you won’t mention me, I hope, because -I only acted for you, and did a jolly -dangerous thing.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, you’re safe enough, and, in fact, I’m -going to reward you for what you <em>did</em> do,” -said Bradwell. “But seeing I’m out of it, -I think it will be a manly act to Browne if I -tell Mabel frankly that I resorted to strateji.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But me?” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I shall merely inform her,” answered -Bradwell, “that one of my emissaceries -found the poem, and, of course, brought it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>to me; that I despatched it--as a joke, taking -care not to say I was the auther. I shall -end with these words: ‘Browne is innosent.’”</p> - -<p class='c000'>All of which he did, and I left the letter -in the usual spot. But Mabel cut him altogether -from that day; and he told me girls -have no humer and laughed it off, though -he felt it a lot, and often smacked my head -out of bitterness of mind afterwards, but -not hard. He gave me an old knife for a -reward, but told me at the same time never -to do anything for him again without being -commanded.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As for Mabel, she threw over Browne just -like she threw over Bradwell, in spite of -Bradwell’s letter; and Bradwell said it was -a nemmecis, whatever that is; and I had -a nemmecis to, because a week afterwards -Bradwell threw over me and made young -West his fag. I felt hert, but, of corse, that -didn’t get known to Bradwell; and if I fag -again, I wont so much as make a peece of -toste unless I’m commanded to.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span> - <h2 class='c003'>Gideon’s Front Tooth</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>I believe Gideon was the only Jew -that ever came to Dunston’s, and I expect, -taking it all round, he might have had -a better time at a school for Jews in general; -though in one way he wouldn’t have done as -well, and wouldn’t have had the adventure -with old Grimbal, which turned out so splendidly -for him when old Grimbal died.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Though easily the richest chap at Merivale, -and getting no less than ten shillings a -week pocket-money, Gideon was so awfully -fond of coin that he hardly spent a penny, -and the only thing he did with his money -was to lend it to fellows. He didn’t lend it -for nothing, having a curious system by -which you paid in marbles, or bats, or -knives for the money, and, in spite of that, -still had to pay back the money itself after -a certain time. You signed a paper, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>Gideon said that if chaps hadn’t paid back -the tin on the dates named it would be very -serious for them. But it got serious for him -after a bit, because Steggles, who knew quite -as much about money as Gideon (though he -never had any), borrowed a whole pound -once, and promised to pay five shillings for -it for one term; and Gideon was new to -Steggles then, and agreed. But when the -time of payment came, Steggles said that -Gideon had better regard it as a bad debt, -because he wasn’t going to pay back even -the original pound. Then Gideon thought -a bit, and asked him why, and Steggles told -him. He said: “Because you know jolly -well the Doctor doesn’t allow chaps to lend -money.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And Gideon said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“This is the first time I’ve heard that.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Anyway, it’s usury, which is a crime,” -said Steggles, “and I’m not going to pay -anything; and, being less than twenty-one, -you can’t make me; so it amounts to -a bad debt, as I told you just now. You’ve -done jolly well, one way and another, and -you’ve got two bats, and Lord knows how -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>many india-rubber-balls, and cricket-balls, -and silver pencils, and knives out of it, including -Ashby minor’s watch-chain, which is -silver; and if you take my tip you’ll keep -quiet, because once all these kids get to know -anybody under twenty-one can borrow money -without returning it, then it’s all up with -your beastly financial schemes.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gideon was remarkably surprised to know -what a lot Steggles had found out about -him, and accused him of looking into his -play-chest; and Steggles said he had. Then -Gideon went; and about three chaps who -had heard the talk told others, and they told -still more chaps, until, finally, a good many -fellows who owed Gideon money felt there -was no hurry about paying it back till it -happened to be convenient. In fact, Gideon -jolly soon saw he couldn’t do any more good -for himself like that, and at the beginning -of the next term, when chaps were pretty -flush of coin, he wrote up in the gym, -“There will be a sale of bats, knives, and -other various useful articles, between two -and three o’clock, by auction, on Tuesday.--<span class='sc'>J. -Gideon.</span>”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>Somebody tore it down, but not before -most fellows had read it; and when Gideon -and young Miller, who had a bat in the -auction, and hoped to get it back if possible, -were seen carrying Gideon’s play-chest to -the gym after dinner on the appointed day, -of course we went. It passed off very well -for Gideon, because the things were really -good, and often almost new. He seemed -to know all about auctions, and hit the chest -with a stump, and explained the things, and -what good points they had about them. -He only took money down, and I will say -nobody could have done it fairer. If a knife -had a broken blade, for instance, or a bat -was slightly sprung, which happened with -one, he always pointed it out, so that nobody -could say he had been choused over it. -Young Miller got back his bat for four -shillings and eightpence; and Ashby minor -got back his silver chain for thirteen shillings; -but it wasn’t much good to him, because, -in order to raise the thirteen bob, he -had to raffle the chain at once, at shilling -shares; and he took one, hoping to be lucky, -but he wasn’t, Fowle unfortunately getting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>it. Gideon told me afterwards that the sale -came out fairly, but not quite what he had -hoped. He rather sneered at the Dunston -chaps in general, and said they were a poverty-stricken -crew; which got me into a bate, -and I told him that I’d sooner be the son of -an officer in the Royal Navy, which I am, -than the biggest Jew diamond dealer in the -world, his father being in that profession. -He said there was no accounting for tastes, -but he should have thought that a man who -could deliberately go and be a sailor must -be weak in the head. Then I punched him, -and he instantly went down and apologized. -I may mention that I am Bray, the cock of -the Lower School.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Before coming to Gideon’s front tooth, -just to let you know exactly the chap he -was, I’ll mention another thing he did. An -old woman was allowed to bring up fruit -and tuck generally, and sell it to us after -morning school. Steggles, who knows the -reason for pretty nearly everything, said -this was permitted by Doctor Dunston to -take the edge off our appetites; but anyway, -the old woman sold strawberries and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>raspberries in summer-time, and these were -arranged with cabbage-leaves in little wicker -baskets at about fourpence each. Well, one -day Gideon, who never refused to eat fruit -if offered it, but very seldom bought any, -asked the old woman what she gave for -the wicker baskets, and she said threepence -a dozen. Then he asked her what she -would give for those which had been used -once, and she thought, and said they -would be worth at least three halfpence a -dozen to her. He didn’t say any more, but -after that it was a rum thing how all the -used baskets, which generally were seen -kicking about the playground in shoals, -disappeared. Nobody noticed it at the -time, but afterwards we remembered clearly -that they <em>had</em> disappeared. And just at the -end of the term a chap, hurrying in late after -the bell rang, came bang on Gideon and -the old woman round a corner out of sight -of the gates. And the chap saw Gideon -give her a pile of baskets and get three halfpence. -Of course, it was the last three -halfpence he ever got that way, because -when it became known the chaps rendered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>their baskets useless for commerce in many -ways. And Barlow called Gideon “Shylock -minor” when he heard that he’d made two -shillings and fivepence halfpenny; which -name stuck to Gideon forever. And Steggles -got nine other chaps to subscribe a -penny each and buy a pound of flesh from -a butcher’s shop, because in Shakespeare -Shylock was death on his pound of flesh. -The pound was put under Gideon’s pillow -by Steggles himself, and when Gideon -shoved his watch under his pillow, which -he always did at night, he found it; and -Steggles says he turned pale, but read what -was pinned on the pound of flesh, and then -smiled and wrapped the meat up in a letter -from home, and said: “What fools you -chaps are, wasting money like that! But -it looks all right, and will mean a good feed -for nothing.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Next day he got up very early and took -his pound of flesh down to the kitchen and -got them to cook it; and he ate about half -before breakfast and had the rest cold in his -desk during Monsieur Michel’s lesson, which -was a safe time. And Steggles said we -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>ought to have gone one better and put -poison on it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The great affair of the tooth came on at -the beginning of next term; and first I must -tell you that next door to Dunston’s lived an -old man, so frightfully ancient that his skin -was all shrivelled over his bones. He didn’t -like boys much, but he would look over his -garden-wall sometimes into our playground -and scowl if anybody caught his eye. Various -things, of course, went over the wall -often, and it was one of the excitements of -Dunston’s to go into old Grimbal’s garden -and get them back. Twice only he caught -a chap, and both times, despite his awful -age and yellowness of skin, he thrashed the -chap very fairly hard with a walking-stick; -but he never reported anybody to Dunston, -and it was generally thought he regarded -it as a sort of sport hunting for chaps in his -garden. Of course, in fair, open hunting he -hadn’t a chance, and the two he did catch -he got by stealth, hiding behind bushes on -a rather dark evening.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, the facts would never have been -known about this tooth but for Gideon’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>mean spirit. It happened to be necessary -for him to fight me, and though not caring -much about it, he couldn’t help himself. -Besides, though the champion of the Lower -School, I was tons smaller than Gideon, and -Gideon didn’t know till after the fight that -I was a champion, the true facts about my -greatness being hid from him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Just before the fight Gideon said: “Oh! -my tooth, by the way. It may be hurt, and -it cost my father five guineas.” So, to our -great interest he unscrewed one of his two -top front teeth and gave it to his second. -You couldn’t have told it was a sham, so remarkably -was it done, and it screwed on to -the foundation of the original tooth much -like a spike screws into the sole of a cricket-boot. -Gideon had fallen down-stairs when -he was ten and knocked off half the tooth, -so he told us; but Murray, who is well up -in science, said that all Jews’ front teeth -are rather rocky, because in feudal times -they were pulled out with pincers as a form -of torture, and to make the Jews give up -their secret treasures. Murray said that -after many generations of pulling out Nature -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>got sick of it, and that in modern times -the front teeth of Jews aren’t worth talking -about. Murray is full of rum ideas like that, -and he hopes to go in for engineering, having -already many secret inventions waiting -to be patented.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As to Gideon, I licked him rather badly -in two rounds and a half. Then he was -mopped up and dressed, and screwed in -his front tooth again with the greatest -ease.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Once it got known about this tooth, and -fellows were naturally excited. Steggles -said it was on the principle of a tobacco-pipe -mouthpiece; and, finding the chaps -were keen to see it, Gideon let it be generally -known he would freely show it to anybody -for threepence a time, and to friends -for twopence. But this was a safe reduction -to make, because, properly speaking, -he hadn’t any friends. Seeing there were -nearly 200 boys at Dunston’s, and that certainly -half, including several fellows from -the Sixth, took a pleasure in seeing the -tooth, and didn’t mind the rather high -charge, Gideon did jolly well; and in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>case of Nubby Tomkins, he made actually -one shilling and threepence; because the -tooth had a most peculiar fascination for -Nubby, and he saw it no less than five -times. After that Gideon made a reduction -to him, as well he might. But somehow -Slade, the head of the school, was very -averse to Gideon’s front tooth when he -heard about it, and he decided that there -must be no more exhibitions of it for money. -He told Gideon so himself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>However, a new boy came a week afterwards -and heard about the strangeness of -the tooth, and offered a shilling, in three -instalments, to see it; which was too much -temptation for Gideon, and he showed it, -contrary to what Slade had said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Slade, of course, heard, for the new boy -happened to be his own cousin, though -called Saunders; and then there was a -curious scene in the playground, which I -fortunately saw. Slade came up to Gideon -in the very quiet way he has, and asked him -in a perfectly gentlemanly voice for his front -tooth. At first Gideon seemed inclined not -to give it up, but he saw what an awfully -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>serious thing that would be, and finally unscrewed -it, though not willingly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now,” said Slade, “I’ll have no more of -this penny peep-show business at Merivale. -I told you once, and you have disobeyed me. -So there’s an end of your beastly tooth. -What’s this?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He took something out of his pocket.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s a catapult,” said Gideon.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is,” said Slade, “and I’m going to use -your tooth instead of a bullet, and fire it -into space.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It cost five guineas,” said Gideon.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t care if it cost a hundred,” answered -Slade, still in a very gentlemanly -sort of way. “We can’t have this sort of -thing here, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Slade was just going to fire into space, as -he had said, when a robin suddenly settled -within thirty yards of us, on the wall between -the playground and old Grimbal’s. -Slade being a wonderful shot with a catapult -(having once shot a wood-pigeon), suddenly -fired at the robin, and only missed it -by about four inches. He said the shape of -a front tooth was very unfavorable for shooting. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>But, anyway, the tooth went over into -Grimbal’s, and we distinctly heard it hit -against the side of his house.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Slade went away, and we rotted -Gideon rather, because not having the tooth -looked rum, and made a difference in his -voice. He took it very quietly, and said he -rather thought his father would be able to -summon Slade; and before evening school, -having marked down the spot where he -fancied his tooth had hit Grimbal’s house, -he went to look with a box of matches. -What happened afterwards he told us frankly; -and it was certainly true, because, with -all his faults, Gideon never lied to anybody.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I went quietly over, and began carefully -looking along the bottom of the wall, using -a match to every foot or so,” he said, "and -I had done about half when I heard a door -open. I then hooked it, and ran almost on -to old Grimbal. He had not opened the -door at all, but was coming up the garden -path at the critical moment. Of course, he -caught me. He was going to rub it into me -with his stick, when I said I should think -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>it very kind if he would hear me first, as I -had a perfectly good excuse for being there.</p> - -<p class='c000'>"He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>"‘What excuse can you have for trespassing -in my garden, you little oily wretch?’</p> - -<p class='c000'>"‘Oily wretch’ was what he called me; -and I said that my tooth had been fired into -his garden that very day, about half-past one, -by a chap with a catapult; and I lighted a -match and showed him it was missing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>"He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>"‘How the deuce are you going to find -a tooth in a garden this size?’ And I told -him I had marked it down very carefully, -and that it had cost five guineas, and that -I rather believed my father would be able -to summon the chap who had shot it away. -He seemed a good deal interested, and said -he thought very likely he might, if it was -robbery with violence. Then he asked me -if I was the boy he had seen beating down -the price of a purse at Wilkinson’s in Merivale, -and I said I was. Then he said, -‘Come in and have a bit of cake, boy’; and -I went in and had a bit of cake, and saw on -a shelf in his room about fifty or sixty -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>cricket-balls, and various things which he -has collared when they went over. He -asked me a lot of questions about different -things, and I answered them. All he said -was about money. He also asked me to -be good enough to value the things he had, -which came over the wall from time to -time; and I did, and he thanked me. They -were worth fifteen shillings and tenpence; -and Wright’s ball, which everybody thought -was stolen by the milkman, wasn’t, for old -Grimbal’s got it; and the milkman should -be told and apologized to.</p> - -<p class='c000'>"Well, he knew a lot about money, and -told me he had thousands of golden sovereigns, -which he makes breed into thousands -more.</p> - -<p class='c000'>"He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>"‘You’re the only boy I ever met with -a grain of sense in his head. Now, if I -gave you a check on my bankers in Merivale -for five pounds to-day, and wrote to -you to-morrow morning to say I had changed -my mind, what would you do?’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I said, ‘It would be too late, sir, because -your check would have been sent off to my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>father that very night, to put out at interest -for me.’ He said, ‘That’s right. Never -give back money, or anything.’ Then he -asked me my name, and told me I might -come back to-morrow and look for my tooth -by daylight.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>That was Gideon’s most peculiar adventure, -and, though he never found the tooth -or saw old Grimbal again, yet about seven -or eight months afterwards, when old Grimbal -was discovered all curiously twisted up -and dead in bed by the man who took him -his breakfast, the result of Gideon’s visit to -him came out. Old Grimbal had specially -put him into his will by some legal method, -and Doctor Dunston had Gideon into his -study three days after old Grimbal kicked. -It then was proved that old Grimbal had left -Gideon all the things that came over the -wall, and also a legacy of fifty pounds in -money, because, according to the bit of the -will which the Doctor read to Gideon out of -a lawyer’s letter, he was the only boy old -Grimbal had ever met with who showed any -intelligence above that of the anthropoid ape.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gideon returned all the balls and things -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>to their owners free of charge, but not until -the rightful owners proved they were so. -And the money he sent to his father; and -his father, he told me afterwards, was so -jolly pleased about the whole affair that he -added nine hundred and fifty pounds to -old Grimbal’s fifty. Therefore, by shooting -Gideon’s front tooth at a robin, Slade was -actually putting the enormous sum of one -thousand pounds into Gideon’s pocket, which -I should think was about the rummest thing -that ever happened in the world.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gideon stopped at Dunston’s one term -after that. Then he went away, and, I believe, -began to help his father to sell diamonds. -He was fairly good at French, and -very at German; but of other things he -knew rather little, except arithmetic, and -his was the most beautiful arithmetic which -had ever been done at Merivale; for I heard -Stokes, who was a seventeenth wrangler in -his time, tell the Doctor so.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span> - <h2 class='c003'>The Chemistry Class</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>This story about Guy Fawkes’s Night at -Dunston’s is worth knowing, because it -shows the rumminess of Nubby Tomkins. -Tomkins, I may say, was called “Nubby,” -owing to his nose, which was extremely -huge, though he said it was Roman, and -swore he wouldn’t change it if he could. -Anyway, Bradwell made a rhyme about it -that is certainly good enough to repeat. -He wrote it first on a black-board with -chalk, and a good many chaps learned it by -heart.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It ran like this:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Our Nubby’s nose is ponderous,</div> - <div class='line'>And our Nubby’s nose is long;</div> - <div class='line in2'>So it wouldn’t disgrace</div> - <div class='line in2'>Our Nubby’s face</div> - <div class='line'>If half his nose was gone.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>Which was not only jolly good poetry, but -also true--a thing all poetry isn’t by long -chalks, as you can see in Virgil and such -like.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, Nubbs sang the solos in chapel on -Sundays, and people came from far to hear -him do it; in consequence of which, so -Steggles said, the Doctor favored him, and -regarded him as an advertisement to Dunston’s. -But his singing wasn’t in it compared -with the advertisement he gave the -Doctor on Guy Fawkes’s Night the term before -Slade left.</p> - -<p class='c000'>To explain the whole tremendous thing I -must tell you that Nubbs belonged to the -chemistry class. This class, in fact, was -pretty well started for him, his father telling -Dunston, so Nubbs said, that he shouldn’t -send him at all if he couldn’t be taught -chemistry; because Nubbs had shown a good -deal of keenness for chemicals generally -from the earliest days, and bought little -boxes of “serpents’ eggs” and red fire instead -of sweets ever since he was old enough -to buy anything. He had also blown off his -eyebrows and eyelashes with a mixture he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>was grinding up in a mortar, and they had -never grown again to this day--all of which -things showed he had chemistry in him to a -great extent. So the Doctor started a chemistry -class, and a chap called Stoddart, from -Merivale, came up once a week to take it; -and Nubbs joined, and so did I, not because -I had chemistry in me worth speaking of, -but because I was a chum of Nubby’s. Wilson -also joined, and so did Hodges. I may -mention my name is Mathers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I always thought that chemists simply -mix the muck doctors give you when you’re -queer, but it seems not. In fact, there are -several sorts of chemists, and Nubbs said he -hoped to belong to the best sort, who don’t -have bottles of red and green stuff in the -windows, and so on. He said a man who -sold pills and tooth-brushes, and liquorice-root -and soap, could not be considered a -classy chemist. The real flyers made discoveries -and froze air, and sneaked one another’s -inventions, and got knighted by the -Queen if they had luck and if they were -well thought of by the newspapers. I should -think really Nubbs might come to being -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>knighted if he sticks to it, for even down to -the stuff in cough lozenges nothing is hid -from him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Once the matron gave me simply a vile -lozenge for my throat, which got a bit foggy -owing to falling into the water during -“hare and hounds.” Well, the lozenge -was white in color, but even a white lozenge -may be very decent sometimes, so I -took a shot at it going to bed. But it was -so jolly frightful to the taste that I chucked -it away, and next morning found it again -and examined it after drying. On it I -then found the words “Chlorate of potash.” -So I took it to Nubbs. He said it was certainly -a chemical, and added that the stuff -in it was almost the same as you make -“Pharaoh’s serpents” with. I could hardly -believe such a thing, so he lighted the -lozenge and it burned blue, and a long, wriggling, -brownish ash came curling out of it -like a snake, just as Nubby said, which is -well worth knowing to anybody who ever -has a chlorate of potash lozenge. Many -such like remarkable and useful things -Nubby could tell you; among others, how -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>to mix sulphur and gunpowder and other -ingredients for fireworks. He had, in fact, -an awful fine book devoted to the subject, -and wooden affairs to load cases; and once -when Stoddart didn’t turn up and the -Doctor put us on our honor to do the -proper things in the laboratory alone, Nubbs -finished off analyzing some mess in about -five minutes, and spent the complete rest of -the time making a rocket. It had four blue -stars and thirteen yellow ones, and the case -was made out of a stiff brown paper roll in -which his mother had that morning sent -Nubbs a photograph of her new baby at -home. And Nubbs forgot the photograph -and stuffed the mixture in upon it, and made -a separate compartment for the stars on top. -So the photograph of Nubby’s mother’s new -baby, curiously enough, went off with the -rocket, and was never more seen by mortal -eye. Not that Nubbs cared. He kept the -rocket till the Doctor’s birthday, and after -prayers, when he knew he was in his study, -with the windows open and the blinds up, -being summer-time, Nubbs let it off in the -front garden, and we helped. It turned out -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>very good in a way, though not quite a perfect -rocket, because instead of going up it -tore along the ground. But it tore for an -enormous distance, and then turned and -came back all of itself. And the blue stars -did not go off, but the yellow ones did--or -some--in a bed of rather swagger geraniums, -unfortunately.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Doctor didn’t care much about it, -not understanding our motives. But Nubbs -explained that he had done it out of honor -to the day. Then the Doctor thanked him, -and said he had doubtless meant well, and -that from the earliest times of the Chinese -the pyrotechnist’s art had been employed -upon occasions of legitimate festivity and -rejoicing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I mention this because it was the encouragement -he had over this creeping rocket -that made Nubbs get so above himself, if -you understand me. He never forgot it, -and next autumn term he actually asked -the Doctor if he might have a regular firework -display in the playground on the night -of the Fifth of November. He asked rather -cunningly, just after an English History -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>lesson, during which the Doctor had been -slating Guy Fawkes frightfully; and having -said such a heap of hard things about the -beggar, Doctor Dunston couldn’t very well -refuse.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Your request is unusual Tomkins; but -I can see no objection at the moment. However, -I will let you have my answer at no -distant date.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And I said to Nubbs:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That means he’ll think and think till -he’s got a reason why you shouldn’t, and let -you know then.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But Nubbs said to me:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I believe he’ll let me do it, feeling so -jolly bitter as he does about Guy Fawkes.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And blessed if he didn’t! Nubbs undertook -to make the things himself. Nothing -was to be bought but chemicals in a raw, -unmixed condition, and Doctor Dunston -actually headed the subscription list with -2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; and Thompson gave the same, and -Mannering 2<i>s.</i>, and “Frenchy” 3<i>s.</i> Fifty-two -chaps also contributed various sums -from 1<i>s.</i> to 1<i>d.</i>; and Nubbs became rather -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>important, and went down gradually to the -bottom of the Lower Fifth owing to the -strain upon his mind.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He gathered together £2 7<i>s.</i> 5<i>d.</i> in all, -and made it up to £2 10<i>s.</i> himself; and -Fowle’s father, who was in some business -where they used sulphur in terrific quantities, -got four pounds weight of it for nothing, -and Nubbs said it was a godsend for -illuminating purposes. He had been to the -Crystal Palace, and told us he was going to -carry everything out just like they did -there, as far as he could with the money. -At the last moment he got a tremendous -increase of funds in the shape of a pound -from his father; and, strangely enough, it -was that extra pound that wrecked him. -Without that father’s pound he couldn’t -have arranged the principal feature of the -whole performance; and without that principal -feature nothing in the way of misfortunes -to Nubbs worth mentioning would have -fallen out. But the pound came, and with -it a letter very encouraging to Nubby.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He went on mixing away at the various -proper compounds and experimenting with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>them till he got his rockets to go up like -larks and his Roman candles to shoot out -stars the length of a cricket pitch. Then -his governor’s pound came, and he decided -on having a set piece with it. A set piece, -Nubby said, is the triumph of the firework -maker’s art--and very likely it is in proper -hands. You can have likenesses in fire, or -words, or ships, or “Fame crowning Virtue,” -or, in fact, pretty well anything. A set -piece is designed small first, then large; -and it is worked out with little tiny things -like squibs, only very small and without any -bang at the end. These are all lighted off -at once, and they burn one color first, then -change to another. Nubbs said his would -start yellow, because it was cheaper, and finally -turn green. The thing was what design -to have, and the four chaps in the -chemistry class all thought differently. I -advised trying a shot at a huge portrait of -the Doctor, but when it came to particulars -nobody knew how to work a portrait; and -Hodges thought we might do something -about Guy Fawkes, but Nubbs didn’t care -about that. Then Hodges thought again, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>and suggested the words, “God bless the -Doctor,” and I agreed that it would be fine; -but Wilson said it was profane, and might -annoy the Doctor frightfully, especially -when it turned green. Then Nubbs suggested -the words, “Doctor Dunston is a -Brick!” and Hodges said that it was good, -and Wilson said it might be good, but it -wasn’t true, anyway. However, it was three -to one, though we all admitted that, from -his point of view, Wilson was right to hate -the Doctor, because the Doctor hates him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The thing was to make a licking big -frame of light wood, and arrange the letters -across it, and the note of exclamation at the -end. This we did, and hammered it against -the playground wall, and wheeled up the -screens that go behind the bowler’s arm in -the cricket season, and hid away the set -piece behind them till the time came. Likewise -we arranged stakes for the Roman -candles, and a board for the Catharine -wheels, and a string for the flying pigeons, -and so on. And also we rigged up bits of -tin round the playground and by the fir-trees -at the top end and behind the gym. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>These were for Bengal lights and other illuminations. -All of this Nubbs had arranged -for the paltry sum of £3 10<i>s.</i> The -chemistry class had a half-holiday as the -time drew on, and we worked like niggers, -all four of us. Nubbs commanded, so to -speak, and mixed and did the grinding and -pounding and stars. Hodges and I hammered -up the heavy posts and stakes in the -playground, and carried out odd jobs generally; -and Wilson manufactured cases for -everything with brown paper and paste and -string.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The set piece took two hundred and thirteen -little tubes. These Wilson made in -lengths of a yard and cut off at the required -size. And Nubbs stuffed them--with green -fire first and yellow on top. It promised to -be a jolly big thing altogether, and four days -before the night Nubbs began to get awfully -nervous, and to prepare yards and yards of -touch-paper.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And Corkey minimus heard the Doctor -say to Browne:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Really the lads have devoted no little -energy and method on their proceedings; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>and it appears--so Mr. Stoddart tells me--that -the boy Tomkins has mixed his compounds -quite correctly, thereby insuring that -brilliance and variety which is looked for -in an exhibition of this kind. I wonder -whether we might ask the parents and -friends of those who dwell at Merivale and -the immediate neighborhood.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And Browne, who never misses a chance -of showing the brute he is at heart, said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Really, I should think twice, Doctor -Dunston. There is such an element of -chance with amateur fireworks. Unfortunately, -we can’t have a dress rehearsal, as -with the scenes from Shakespeare and the -recitations at the end of the term.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nevertheless,” said the Doctor, “I am -disposed to run the risk. A little harmless -pleasure combined with courtesy to relatives -at mid-term is rather desirable than not.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>So about fifty people were asked, and -they brought fifty more, and the cads from -Merivale got to know too, and there was -a good crowd of them along the fence by -the gym. Also two policemen came, and -Nubbs, who was nervous before, grew much -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>worse when he heard of it. Besides, we -had a frightful shock two days before the -firework night, owing to the loss of poor -old Wilson. By simply sickening luck he -got reported by Browne for cheek. It was -when Browne came out in a new pair of -awfully squeaking boots with sham pearl -buttons at the side and drab tops; and -Wilson said they were ugly “eighteens” and -Browne heard him. The Doctor took an -awfully grave view of this, and told Wilson -that personality was the vilest kind of cheek. -Which wouldn’t have mattered, but he gave -him a thousand lines as well, and forbade -him to see the fireworks or help any more -with them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And that’s the man you call a brick!” -Wilson said, rather bitterly. It certainly -was rough, after the way he had worked; -but from the Wing Dormitory, where he -would be at the time, he might be able to -see pretty well everything by leaning far out -between the window bars. Which Nubbs -pointed out to him, and he said he should. -He also said he’d pay out Browne some day, -and very likely Dunston too.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>Well, the night came, and it was a fine -one; and the cads likewise came and lined -the fence. Then the Doctor clapped his -hands twice, which was the signal to begin; -and just as he did so out burst yellow fire -everywhere behind the bits of tin, lighted -simultaneously by seven chaps. And everybody -seemed to like it; and the Doctor -said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Capital! Bravo, Tomkins--a pleasing -and fairy like conceit!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Nubbs let fly two rockets, and they -went up well and burst out in stars, though -not as many by any means as we had -crammed into them; but one twisted for -some reason, and, instead of falling in the -direction of the cads, the stick twinkled -down, with just a spark of red here and -there in the line of it, bang behind the -chapel. Both Nubbs and I distinctly heard -it go smack through the top of the greenhouse, -and I rather think the Doctor heard -it too, for he didn’t say “Bravo” or anything, -but just sent a kid to tell Nubbs to -point future rockets the other way, which -disheartened Nubbs, because he’s like a girl -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>at times of great excitement such as this -was. But he soon cheered up, especially at -the splendid success of the Catherine-wheels, -which he hadn’t hoped much from, and at -the cheers even the cads gave for the “golden -rain” which showed up everything as -bright as day, including Maude and the -other Dunston girls, and Mrs. Dunston, and -Nubby’s father standing smiling very amiably -by the Doctor, and the policemen blinking, -and the crowd, and a white dab hanging -out of a high window afar off, which I saw -and knew to be Wilson.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Only the balloon failed, owing to the -nervousness of Nubbs, who set fire to the -whole show while he was trying to light the -spirit on the sponge underneath; but he -passed it off with crackers thrown among the -kids, and then, while they were all yelling, -he dragged away the cricket screens, and -Nubbs let off the set piece. He lighted the -touch-paper, and it snapped and crackled -all over the design in a moment, and a thick -smoke rose, and out of it came the set piece -flaring in rich yellow fire. Of course, we -expected what Nubbs and Wilson had arranged, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>viz., “Doctor Dunston is a Brick!” -but instead there came out these awful -words:</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='large'>“DOCTOR DUNSTON</span></div> - <div><span class='large'>IS A BRUTE!”</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>That just shows what a frightful difference -three letters will make in a thing; and the -night was so dark and the letters so big that -you could have read them a mile off. Only, -if you will believe it, Dunston didn’t. People -applauded like anything at first, till the preliminary -smoke cleared off and they read -the truth. Then they shut up and made a -sound like wind coming through a wood. -But the cads yelled and roared, and so did -the policemen, for I heard them; and to -make the frightful thing a shade more -frightful, if possible, the Doctor, who is as -blind as ten bats, and didn’t realize the -end of the set piece, but only read his -name at the top, clapped his hands and -said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Famous, famous! You excel yourself, -Tomkins!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>Then the words began gradually to turn -green; and, for that matter, so did Nubbs. -In fact, whether it was the reflected light -or the condition of his mind, or both, I -certainly never saw any chap become so perfectly -horrid to look at as Nubbs did then. -His nose seemed to stand out like a great -green rock, and his eyes bulged, and his -chin dropped, and the set piece turned his -teeth as bright as precious emeralds. He -just merely said, “Good Lord!”--nothing -more--then hooked it off into the darkness, -simply shattered.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At the same time Stoddart and Thompson, -and Mannering and Browne, and some -chaps from the Sixth, not knowing what -color the beastly set piece might turn next, -or how soon the Doctor would spot it, -dashed at the thing and dragged it down, -and trampled on it; and Browne in the -act burned the very boots that Wilson had -cheeked, which pleased Wilson a good deal -when he heard it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After that it was all over, and the Doctor, -thinking the set piece had died a natural -death, so to speak, saw me under the gas-light -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>at the gate, as everybody streamed out, -and said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah, young man, what was that last word -in the illumination? I know you and -Hodges also had a hand in it, as well as -Tomkins.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And I said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Please, sir, we arranged the words ‘Doctor -Dunston is a Brick!’”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And he said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Excellent! Pithy and concise if a little -familiar. I only hope you all echo that -sentiment--every one of you. Send Tomkins -to me, and tell the other fellows there -is cake and lemonade going in the dining-hall.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Just as if the other fellows didn’t know -it! But everybody gave three cheers for the -Doctor and Mrs. Dunston, and I started to -find Nubbs; and the policemen made the -cads go, though they went reluctantly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I looked long for Nubby, and at last -found him all alone in the gym. One bit -of candle was burning, which looked frightfully -poor after all the brilliance of the fireworks, -and Nubbs had got the parallel bars -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>under the flying rings, and was standing on -them--I mean the bars.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What the Dickens are you doing, Nubby?” -I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And he answered:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s no jolly good attempting to stop me -now, because it’s too late. My life is ruined, -and my father was there too to see it ruined; -and I’m going to hang myself, as every convenience -for hanging is here.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mind you, he would have done it. Knowing -Tomkins as I do, and his great ingeniousness, -I don’t mind swearing that he -would have been a hung chap in another -minute. So I told him; but, though doubtful, -he decided to put it off, anyway. I even -got him to promise he wouldn’t hang himself -at all if his father believed his innocence -about the set piece. And Crewe, the head-master -under the Doctor, and old Briggs -and Thompson got us in a corner--Nubbs -and Hodges and me--and we solemnly vowed -we knew nothing of it; and Crewe went -down to the <cite>Merivale Trumpet</cite> and made the -reporter put in the original words when it -came out; and Thompson explained to Mrs. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>Dunston how some evil-disposed, wicked person -had tampered with the set piece, and -begged her not to wound the feelings of the -Doctor by telling him; and the Sixth hushed -it up among the kids; and I sneaked a -bit of cake for Wilson, and went up after the -row was over and told him everything, down -to the burning of Browne’s boots.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He confessed to me then that he had -done it, which didn’t surprise me much, -knowing how he had worked, and then at -the last minute almost been deprived of -seeing the show. It was certainly a terrible -revenge; but, of course, a terrible revenge -which doesn’t come off owing to a master -being too shortsighted to see it is pretty -sickening for the revenger. Besides the -risk.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mr. Crewe worked like a demon to find -out who had done it, and he suspected -Wilson from the first, but couldn’t prove it. -But at last he did find out through Fowle, -who got it out of Ferrars, who got it out -of West, who got it out of Nubbs in a -moment of rage. For I may say Wilson -himself told Nubbs, and Nubbs never forgave -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>him, and says he never shall, even if -they ever both go to heaven.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So Crewe, having found out, had some -talk with Wilson. But he didn’t lick him; -whereas Wilson did lick Fowle, and that -pretty badly. Not that Fowle cares for an -ordinary licking more than another chap -cares for a smack on the head. The only -way to hurt him is to twist his arm round, -about twice, and then hit him hard just -above the elbow. I may say I found this -out myself, and everybody does it now.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span> - <h2 class='c003'>Doctor Dunston’s Howler</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Mind you, if it’s interesting to watch -any ordinary person come a howler, -what must it be to see your own head-master -do it? A “howler,” of course, is the -same as a “cropper,” and you can come one -at cricket or football or in class or in everyday -life.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Dr. Dunston’s howler was a most complicated -sort, and I had the luck to be one of -the chaps who witnessed him come it. Of -course, to see any master make a tremendous -mistake is good; but when you are dealing -with a man almost totally bald and sixty-two -years of age the affair has a solemn side, especially -owing to his being a Rev. and a D.D. -In fact, Slade, who was with me, said the -spectacle reminded him of the depths of woe -beggars got into in Greek tragedies, which -often wanted half a dozen gods to lug them -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>out of. But no gods troubled themselves -about Dunston; and it really was a bit awful -looked at from his point of view; because -it’s beastly to give yourself away to kids at -the best of times; and no doubt to him all -of us are more or less as kids, even the Sixth.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He often had a way of bringing the parents -of a possible new boy through one or two of -the big class-rooms and the chapel of Merivale, -just to show what a swagger place it -was. Then we all bucked up like mad, and -the masters bucked up too, and gave their -gowns a hitch round and their mortar-boards -a cock up, and made more noise and put on -more side generally, just to add to the splendor -of the scene from the point of view of -the parents of the possible new boy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Sometimes the affair was rather spoiled by -an aunt or mother or some woman or other -asking the Doctor homely sort of questions -about sanitary arrangements or prayers; -then to see old Dunston making long-winded -replies and getting even the drains -to sound majestic was fine. His manner -varied according to the people who came -over the school. Sometimes, if it only happened -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>to be a guardian or a lawyer, he was -short and stern. Then he just swept along, -calling attention to the ventilation and discipline, -and looking at the chaps as if they -were dried specimens in a museum; but -with fathers or women he had a playful mood -and an expression known as the “parent-smile.” -To mothers he never talked about -“pupils,” but called the whole shoot of us -“his lads,” and beamed and fluttered his -gown, like a hen with chickens flutters its -wings. The masters always copied him, and -to see that little brute Browne trying to -flutter over the kids like a hen when the -Doctor came into his class-room was a ghastly -sight, knowing him as we did. Also the -Doctor would often pat a youngster on the -head and beam at him. He generally singled -Corkey minimus out for patting and beaming; -and Corkey minor said the irony of it -was pretty frightful, considering that Corkey -minimus, for different reasons, got licked -oftener by the Doctor than almost any chap -in the Lower School.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, one day in came the Doctor to the -school-room of the Fourth. I’m in the Sixth -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>myself, and a personal chum of Slade’s, the -head of the school; but I happened to have -gone to the Fourth with a message, so I saw -what happened. A very big man who puffed -out his chest like a pigeon followed the -Doctor. He had a blue tie on with a jolly -bright diamond in it, and there were small -purple veins in a regular network over his -cheeks, and his mustache was yellowish-gray -and waxed out as sharp as pins. A lady followed -him with red rims to her little eyes -and gold things hanging about her chest. -The Doctor, being all arched up and rolled -round from the small of the back like a -wood-louse, seemed to show they were parents -of perhaps more fellows than one. The -big chap wore an eye-glass and spoke very -loud, and was jolly pleasant.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah!” he said, “and this is where the -little boys work, eh? I expect, now, my -youngster will be drafted in among these -small men, Doctor Dunston?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is very possible--nay, probable in the -highest degree, my lord,” said the Doctor. -“We are now,” he continued, “in the presence -of the Fourth and Lower Fourth. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>class-room is spacious, as you see, and new. -A commanding panorama of the surrounding -country and our playing-fields may be -enjoyed from the French windows. If two -of you lads will move that black-board from -there, Lord Golightly may be able to see -something of the prospect.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Two of the kids promptly knocked down -the black-board nearly onto the purple-veined -lord’s head. Then suddenly the lady called -out and attracted his attention. Looking -round, we found she had got awfully excited, -and stood pointing straight at young Tomlin. -He was a mere kid, at the extreme -bottom of the Lower Fourth; but he happened -to be my fag, so I was interested. She -pointed at him, in the most frantic way, with -a hand in a browny-yellow glove, and a gold -bracelet outside the glove and a little watch -let into the bracelet.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good gracious!” she said, “do look -Ralph! What an astounding resemblance! -Whoever is that boy?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Tomlin turned rather red in the gills, -which was natural.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you know the lad?” asked the Doctor.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>“Never saw him before in my life; but -I hope he’ll forgive me for being so rude as -to point at him in that way,” she said. -“He’s exactly like our dear Carlo; they -might be twins.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Tomlin thought she meant a pet dog, and -got rather rum to look at.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Carlo is our son, you know,” explained -the lord.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Singular coincidence,” answered Doctor -Dunston, not looking very keen about it. -In fact, he wasn’t too fond of Tomlin at -any time, and seemed sorry he should be -dragged in now. But the kid was a very -tidy sort, really--Captain of the Third -Footer Eleven and a good runner. He happened -to be the son of a big London hatter -who had a shop of enormous dimensions in -Bond Street; and the Doctor was said to -get his own hats there; yet he didn’t like -Tomlin.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Tomlin went out into the open, and the -purple-veined lord shook hands with him, -and the lord’s wife stood him in the light -and turned him round to catch different expressions. -Then they admitted that the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>likeness was really most wonderful, and -they both hoped Tomlin and Carlo would -be great friends. Tomlin, told by the Doctor -to answer, stood on one leg, twisted his -arms in a curious way he’s got when nervous, -and said he hoped they might be; but -he said it as though he knew jolly well they -wouldn’t.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then the lord and the lady cleared out, -and a week later Carlo came. His real -name was Westonleigh, and he was a viscount -or something, being eldest son of an -earl; but we called him Carlo, and he grew -jolly waxy when he found his nickname had -got to Merivale before him. He fancied -himself to a most hideous extent for a kid -of nine, and explained he’d only come for a -year or so before going to Eton. He went -into the Lower Fourth, so Tomlin ceased to -be at the bottom of that class.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The likeness between Carlo and my fag -was really most peculiar. It must have -been for Carlo’s own mother to see it; but -when Carlo heard that Tomlin would be a -hatter in the course of years he refused to -have anything to do with him. And Tomlin -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>loathed Carlo, too, from the start; so instead -of being chums according to the wish -of the purple-veined lord, they hated one -another, and the first licking of any importance -which Carlo got he had from Tomlin.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The chap was a failure all round, and it’s -no good saying he wasn’t. Everybody saw -it but Doctor Dunston, and he wouldn’t. -Carlo proved to be a sneak and a liar of the -deepest sort--not to masters, but to the -chaps; and he was also jolly cruel to animals, -and very much liked to torture things that -couldn’t hit him back, such as mice and insects. -He had a square face and snubby -nose, and a voice and eyes exactly similar to -Tomlin’s; but there was no likeness in their -characters, Tomlin being a very decent kid, -as I have said. Fellows barred Carlo all -round, and he only had one real chum in -the miserable shape of Fowle. Fowle sucked -up to him and listened for hours about his -ancestors, and buttered him at all times, -hoping, of course, that some day he would -get asked to Carlo’s father’s castle in the holidays. -I may also note Carlo never played -games, excepting tossing behind the gymnasium -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>for half-pennies with Fowle and -Steggles, Steggles, of course, winning.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Happening one day to go down through -the playground, young Tomlin saw Westonleigh -near a little fir-tree which grew at the -top of the drill-ground. He was alone, and -seemed to be doing something queer, so -Tomlin stopped and went over.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What are you up to?” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Frying ants,” said Carlo, “though it’s -no business of yours. You see, there’s turpentine -juice come out of this tree where I -cut it yesterday, and you can stick the ants -in it, then fry them to a cinder with a burning-glass, -like this.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s what you’re doing?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t you think you’re rather a little -beast?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What d’ you mean, hatter?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I mean I’m going to kick you for being -such a cruel beast.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They stood the same height to an inch -and were the same age, so it was a perfectly -sportsman-like thing for Tomlin to -offer.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>“You seem to forget who you’re talking -to,” said Carlo.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, I don’t--no chance of that. Your -ancestors came over with William the Conqueror--carried -his portmanteau, I expect, -then cleared out when the fighting came on. -Yes, and another ancestor stabbed a friend -of Wat Tyler’s when he was face down on -the ground, after somebody else had knocked -him over. That’s what you are, ant-fryer.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ll thank you to let me pass,” said -Carlo. “I’m not accustomed to talking to -people like you, and if you think I’m going -to fight with a future hatter you’re wrong.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then you can put your tail between -your legs and swallow this,” said Tomlin, -and he went on and licked Carlo pretty -well. He also broke his burning-glass.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’ll live to be sorry for this all your -life!” yelled out Carlo, when Tomlin let him -get up off some broken flower-pots on the -drill-ground. “I’ll never forget it; I’ll get -my father to make old Dunston expel you; -and when I’m a man I’ll devote all my time -to wrecking your vile hat business and ruining -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>you and making you a shivering, starving -beggar in the streets!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Go and sneak, I should,” said Tomlin.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And blessed if Carlo didn’t! He tore -straight off to the Doctor just as he was, -in his licked condition.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That much I heard from my fag, young -Tomlin, but the rest I saw for myself, as the -Sixth happened to be before the Doctor -in his study when Carlo arrived. He was -white and muddy, and slightly bloody and -panting; he looked jolly wicked, and his -collar had carried away from the stud, and -his trousers were torn behind.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My good lad, whatever has happened?” -began the Doctor. “Don’t say you have -met with an accident? And yet your appearance--”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nothing of the sort,” said Carlo, who -soon found out the Doctor had a weak place -for him, owing to his being a lord’s son. -“I’ve been frightfully and cruelly mangled -through no fault of my own; and I believe -some things inside me are broken too.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Sit down, sit down, my unfortunate lad,” -said the Doctor. Then he rang the bell and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>told the butler to bring Viscount Westonleigh -a glass of wine at once.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s Tomlin done it,” said Carlo. “He -came up behind me, and, before I could defend -myself, he trampled on me and tried to -tear me limb from limb. I’m not strong, -and I may die of it. Anyway, he ought to -be expelled, and I’ll write to my father, the -earl, about it, and he’ll make the whole -country-side resound if Tomlin isn’t sent -away and his character ruined.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hush, Westonleigh!” said the Doctor. -“Have no fear that justice will not be done, -my boy. You shall yourself accuse Tomlin -and hear what he may have to say in defence.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Tomlin was sent for, and in about -ten minutes came.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Is this true, boy Tomlin?” said the -Doctor, putting on his big manner. “One -glance at your victim,” he continued, “furnishes -a more conclusive reply to my question -than could any word of yours; nevertheless, -I desire to hear from your own lips -whether Viscount Westonleigh’s assertions -are true or not.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>“Don’t know what he’s asserted, sir,” said -Tomlin, which was a smart thing for a kid -to say. “If he said I’ve licked him, it’s -true, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That is what he <em>did</em> assert, sir, in words -chosen with greater regard for my feelings -than your own. And are you aware, George -Tomlin, that you have ‘licked’ one who, in -the ordinary course of nature, and subject to -the will of an all-just, all-seeing Providence, -will some day take his seat in the House of -Lords?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ve heard him <em>say</em> he will, sir,” answered -Tomlin, as though no statement of -Carlo’s could be worth believing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t answer in that offensive tone, -boy,” answered the Doctor, his voice rising -to the pitch that always went before a flogging. -“If your stagnant sense of right cannot -bring a blush to your cheek before the -spectacle of your scandalous achievement, -it will be necessary for me--for me, your -head-master, sir--to quicken the blood in -your veins and bring a blush to the baser -extremity of your person. Some learn -through the head, George Tomlin; some -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>can only be approached through the hide; -and with the latter category you have long, -unhappily, chosen to throw in your lot.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Tomlin said nothing, but looked at Carlo.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Before proceeding, according to my -custom, I shall hear both sides of this -question--<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><em>audi alteram partem</em></span>, George -Tomlin. Now say what you have to say; -explain why your lamentable, your unholy, -your aboriginal passions led you to fall upon -Viscount Westonleigh from behind--to take -him in the rear, sir, after the unmanly -fashion of the North American Indian or -other primitive savage.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I didn’t take him in the rear at all, sir,” -said Tomlin. “I stood right up to him, and -he said he wouldn’t fight a future hatter.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A very proper decision, too, sir--a -natural and wise decision,” declared the -Doctor. “Why should the son of Lord Golightly -imbue his hand in the blood of--I -will not say a future hatter, for I yield to -no man in my respect for your father, Tomlin, -and his business is alike honorable -and necessary; but why should he fight -anybody?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>“If he’s challenged he’s got to, sir, or -else take a licking.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No flippancy, sir!” thundered the Doctor -again. “Who are <em>you</em> to announce the -laws which govern the society of Merivale? -Shall it be possible in a Christian land, at -a Christian college for Christian lads, to find -infamous boys with tigrine instincts parading -the fold for the purpose of smiting when -and where they will? This, sir, is the very -apotheosis of savagery!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I didn’t do it for nothing, sir,” said -Tomlin. “I’m not going to sneak, of course; -but I--I licked Carlo for a jolly good reason, -and he knows what.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t know anything of the sort,” declared -Carlo. “You flew at me like a wolf -from behind.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s a good one,” answered Tomlin.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Anybody can see you did from the state -I’m in,” said Carlo.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You two boys,” began the Doctor again, -“though you know it not, stand here before -me as types of a great social movement, I -may even say upheaval. In the democratic -age upon which we are now entering, we -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>shall find the Tomlins at war with the Westonleighs; -we shall find the Westonleighs -disdaining to fight, and the Tomlins accordingly -doing what pleases them in their own -brutal way. Now, here I find myself met -with statement and counter-statement. The -indictment is all too clear against you, boy -Tomlin, for even the glass of old brown -sherry which he has just consumed fails to -soothe your unfortunate victim’s nerve-centres. -He is still far from calm; his -ganglions are yet vibrating. This work of -destruction was yours. You do not deny -it, but you refuse any explanation, making -instead a vague and ambiguous reference to -not sneaking. No man hates the tale-bearer -more than your head-master, sir, but there -are occasions when the school’s welfare and -the protection of our little commonwealth -make it absolutely necessary that offences -should be reported to the ruler of that commonwealth. -I have no hesitation in saying -that Westonleigh saw the present incident -in this light. He had no right to hush up -the matter. Whatever his private instincts -towards mercy, his duty to his companions -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>and to me, together with a hereditary sense -of justice and the fearless instincts of his -race, compelled him to come before me and -report the presence of a young garroter in -our midst. I select the word, George Tomlin, -and I say that, having regard to the -perverted, not to say inverted, sense of justice -and honor all too common among every -community of boys, Westonleigh’s act was -a brave act. I accept his statement in its -entirety; consequently, Tomlin, you may -join me this evening, at nine o’clock, after -prayers.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>That meant a flogging, and Tomlin said, -“Yes, sir,” and hooked it; but the wretched -Carlo thought he was going to hear Tomlin -expelled. He burst out and said as much, -and the Doctor started as if a serpent had -stung him, and told Carlo to control the instinct -of revenge so common to all human -nature, and explained that chaps were not -expelled for trifles. He reminded Carlo that -Tomlin had an immortal soul like himself, -and seemed to imply that being expelled -from Merivale would ruin a chap’s future in -the next world as well as this one. Finally, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>he allowed Carlo, in consideration of the -dressing he had got, to stop in the playground -that afternoon with a book. So the -little skunk crept off, shattered ganglions -and all, pretending to walk lame; while the -Doctor, evidently much bothered altogether, -took up our work where he had left it.</p> - -<hr class='c009' /> - -<p class='c000'>Tomlin got flogged all right, and there -the matter ended, excepting that a lot of -fellows sent Carlo to Coventry and called -him “ant-fryer” from that day.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then, within three weeks, came the Doctor’s -howler, Steggles being responsible. -Steggles is a bit of a hound, but his cunning -is wonderful. As for the Doctor, he -continued making much of Carlo and sitting -on Tomlin, till one day, going into -chapel, he unexpectedly patted Tomlin on -the head. Tomlin was rather pleased, because -he thought the Doctor was relenting -to him; but when Steggles heard of it he -said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why, you fool, he thought he was patting -Westonleigh!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then, on an evening when Tomlin was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>cooking a sausage for me in the Sixth’s -class-room, he said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Please, I should like to speak to you, if -I may.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>So I chucked work, and told him to say -what he liked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s only to show how things go against -a chap, no matter what he does,” said the -kid. “This term I have been flogged for -licking Carlo, and caned three times since -for other things, which were more bad luck -than anything else; and now I’ll be flogged -again to-morrow for absolute certain.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, it’s a jolly muddle. You know -Steggles?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, you’re a fool to go about with him,” -I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Perhaps I was. Anyway, Steggles and -me made a plot to get some of the medlars -from the tree on the lawn, and we minched -out after dark to do it. They’re simply allowed -to fall and rot on the ground, which -is a waste of good tuck, Steggles says. We -went out about ten o’clock last night, past -Browne’s study window; and we looked in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>from the shrubbery to see the window open, -and soda-water and whiskey and pipes on -the table; but no Browne, strange to say. -Then we sneaked on, and Steggles suddenly -heard something and got funky, but I kept -him going. We reached the tree and Steggles -lighted his bull’s-eye lantern, so as -to collect the medlars, when suddenly out -from behind the tree itself rushed a man. -We hooked it like lightning, naturally, and -I never saw Steggles go at such a pace in -my life, and he stuck to his lantern, too; -but I tripped and fell, and before I could -get up the man had collared me. If you’ll -believe it, the man was Browne! He asked -me who the other chap was, and I said I -couldn’t be quite sure; so he told me to -go back to bed, which I did. That was -last night; and the one medlar we had time -to get Steggles had eaten before I got back, -which shows what Steggles is. To-day -Browne will tell the Doctor. He always -chooses the evening after prayers, so that -he can work the Doctor up with his stories -and get a chap flogged right away; because -it often happens when Doctor Dunston -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>says he’ll flog a chap next day he doesn’t -do it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And what is Steggles going to do?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He says he is watching events. He -also says that Browne was certainly stealing -the Doctor’s medlars himself, and really we -surprised him, not he us; but, of course, -Steggles says it’s no good my telling the -Doctor that. Steggles also says that he’s -got an idea which may come to something. -I don’t know; but he’s a very cute chap. -I’ve got to keep out of the way after prayers -to-night, and Steggles is going to watch -Browne. He won’t tell me his plan. I -thought once that perhaps he meant giving -himself up for me, and I asked him, and he -said I ought to know him better.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Tomlin then cleared out, and as the -Doctor took Slade and me for a short Greek -lesson every evening after prayers, because of -special examinations, I had the good luck to -see the end of the business that very night.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We’d just got to work by the Doctor’s -green-shaded reading-lamp when Browne -came in with his grovelling way, pretending -he was awfully sorry for having to round on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>Tomlin, but that his duty gave him no -option, and so on.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Last night,” he said, “I was sitting correcting -exercises in my study when I fancied -I saw a form steal across the grass outside. -Thinking some vagabond might be in the -grounds, I dashed out and followed as quickly -as possible. Presently I saw a light, and -noted two figures under the medlar-tree. -Fearing they might be plotting against the -house, I went straight at them, and, to my -astonishment, saw that they were only boys. -One darted away, and I failed to catch him; -the other, I much regret to say, was Tomlin.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>That is how Browne put the affair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Tomlin again!” exclaimed the Doctor. -“Positively that boy’s behavior passes the -bounds of endurance.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, taking the medlars of one who has -always treated him as you have. I couldn’t -trust myself to speak to him. He’s a very -disappointing boy.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He’s a disgraceful, degenerate, disreputable -boy! I can forgive much; but the -stealing of fruit--and that <em>my</em> fruit! Greediness, -immorality, ingratitude in the person -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>of one outrageous lad! I thank you, Browne. -Yours was a zealous act, and argued courage -of high order. Oblige me by sending Tomlin -hither at once. There shall be no delay.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Browne hurried off to find the wretched -Tomlin; and Doctor Dunston, who always -had to work up his feelings before flogging -a chap, snorted like a horse, and took off his -glasses, and went to the corner behind the -book-case where canes and things were kept. -He seemed to forget Slade and me, so we -sat tight in the gloom outside the radius of -light thrown by the green-shaded lamp, and -waited with regret to see Tomlin catch it. -The Doctor talked to himself as he brought -out a birch and swished it through the air -once or twice.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Upon my soul,” he said, “Lord Golightly’s -son was right. His knowledge of -character is remarkable in so young a lad. -Tomlin will have to be expelled; Tomlin -must go; such consistent, such inherent depravity -appears ineradicable. Pruning is of -no avail; the branch must be sacrificed. My -medlars under cover of darkness! And I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>would have given them freely had he but -asked!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He evidently wasn’t going to expel Tomlin -this time, but he meant doing all he -knew with the birch; and as Tomlin was -some while coming, the Doctor’s safety-valves -were regularly humming before he -turned up. When he did come he walked -boldly in; and the Doctor, who had been -striding up and down like a lion at the Zoo, -didn’t wait for any remarks, but just went -straight for him, seized him by the nape of -the neck, nipped his hand round his back--in -a way he did very neatly from long practice--and -began to administer about the hottest -flogging he’d given to any boy in his -life.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So--you--add--the--eighth--com--mand--ment--to--the--others--you--have--already--shattered--deplorable--boy!” -roared the Doctor, giving Tomlin one between -each smack. “You--would--purloin--steal--rob--the -medlars--of your preceptor. -You would lead others--to--share--your--sin. -You would bring--tears--of--grief--to--a--good--mother’s--eyes!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>Here the Doctor stopped a moment for -breath, but he still held on to Tomlin, who, -much to my surprise, wriggled about a good -deal. In fact, he shot out his legs over and -over again at intervals, like a grasshopper -does when it gets into the water; and when -he got a chance he yelled back at the Doctor:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s a lie--a filthy lie!” he shrieked out. -“Beast--devil! Let me go! Let me go! -I never touched your rotten old medlars--oh!--oh!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then the Doctor went off again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Silence, miserable child! Cease your -blasphemies. Falsehood--will--not--save--you--now!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I never touched them, I tell you, you -muddle-headed old beast! You’re killing -me, and my father’ll imprison you for life -for it. I wish they could hang you. I’ll -make you smart for this if you only live till -I grow up--devil!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the Doctor had shot his bolt. He -gave Tomlin a final smack, then shook him -off like a spider, picked up his mortar-board, -which had fallen off in the struggle, and put -the birch in its place.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>“Now go, and don’t speak another word, -or I shall expel you, wretched lad!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Meantime Slade and I were fairly on the -gasp, for from the time that Tomlin, as we -thought, had called the Doctor a devil we -realized the truth. Now his passion nearly -choked him; he danced with pain and rage; -only when the Doctor took a stride towards -him he opened the door and hooked it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Doctor puffed and grunted like a -traction-engine trying to get up a hill.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“These are the black days in a head-master’s -life, Slade,” he said. “That misguided -lad thinks that I enjoyed administering his -punishment, yet both mentally and physically -the operation caused me far greater suffering -than it brought to him. I am wounded--wounded -to the heart--and the exertion -causes and will cause me much discomfort -for hours to come, owing to its unusual -severity. I may say that not for ten years -has it been necessary for me to flog a boy as -I have just flogged George Tomlin. Now -let us proceed.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I couldn’t have broken it to him, but -Slade did. He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>“Please, sir, it wasn’t Tomlin.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not Tomlin--not Tomlin! What d’ you -mean, boy? Who was it, then?” said the -Doctor, his eyebrows going up on to his forehead, -which was all quite dewy from the -hard work.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It was young Carlo--I mean Westonleigh,” -said Slade.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Viscount Westonleigh!” gasped the -Doctor, his mouth dropping right open in -a very rum way by itself, if you understand -me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then why in the name of Heaven didn’t -you say so? How <em>dare</em> you stand there and -watch me commit an offence against law and -justice? How did you dare to watch me -ignorantly torture an innocent boy, and that -boy-- Go! go both of you--you, Slade, and -you, Butler, also. Go instantly, and send -Browne and Viscount Westonleigh to me. -Good God! this is terrible--terrible!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>So that was his howler, and to see him in -his chair looking so old and haggard and -queer was rather frightful. He seemed -suddenly struck with limpness, and his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>hands shook like anything, and so did his -bald head; and he puffed as if he’d been -running miles; and Slade said afterwards -that he looked jolly frightened too. He put -his face in his hands as we went out, and we -heard him say something about Lord Golightly -and ruin, and universal opprobrium -on his gray hairs, though really he had none -worth mentioning; and Slade said he almost -thought the Doctor was actually going to -cry, if such a thing could be possible.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We sent Browne off to him, but Carlo -wasn’t to be found. He’d been seen yelling -somewhere, but couldn’t be traced. What -had happened was this: Tomlin, in obedience -to Steggles, had kept rather close after -prayers; in fact, he had spent the half-hour -to bed-time in a cupboard in the <a id='corr198.18'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='gymnasium.'>gymnasium,</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_198.18'><ins class='correction' title='gymnasium.'>gymnasium,</ins></a></span> -under the rubber shoes. So Browne, not -finding him, had told the first boy he saw -to do so; and that boy happened to be -Steggles, who had been at his heels ever -since he went to the Doctor. Steggles is -a miserable, unwholesome thing, but his -strategy certainly comes off. Once having -the message, all was easy, because Steggles -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>merely found Carlo, and told him the Doctor -wanted him. The result was much better -than even Steggles hoped; because, though -the Doctor generally fell on a chap who -came to be flogged straightaway, like he did -on Carlo, it wasn’t often anybody got such -a frightful strong dose as Carlo had. Afterwards, -when taxed, Steggles swore, of course, -that he thought he was talking to Tomlin. -Seeing the likeness, this might have been -perfectly true, though in their secret hearts -everybody knew Steggles too jolly well to -really believe it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Carlo didn’t turn up, and after an hour -or more of frantic rushing about, somebody -said perhaps he’d jumped down the garden -well owing to the indignity of what he’d -got. But soon afterwards, in reply to a -special telegram sent for the Doctor by the -people at the railway station, an answer -came from Golightly Towers, twenty miles -off, where the purple-veined lord, father of -Carlo, hung out. The kid, it seemed, had -sloped down to Merivale railway station after -his licking, and taken a ticket right away for -Golightly, and gone home by the last train -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>but one that night. He never returned -either, but next day his father dropped in -on Doctor Dunston, and Fowle managed to -hear a little of what went on through the -key-hole. He said that as far as he could -make out the lord didn’t think much of the -matter, and said one thrashing more or less -wouldn’t mar Carlo. But the lord’s wife, -who didn’t come, evidently took the same -view as Carlo, for he never returned to -Dunston’s again. The Doctor’s howler ended -in his losing the little bounder altogether, -which, with his views about lords in general, -and especially earls, must have been frightfully -rough on him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As to Tomlin, actually the Doctor never -flogged him after all! I think his spirit had -got a bit broken, and though Tomlin went -at the end of the term, he wasn’t expelled, -but withdrawn by mutual consent, like you -hear of things in Parliament sometimes. -He wouldn’t have gone at all, but he refused -to say who was under the medlar-tree -with him, and stuck to it; and Steggles -absolutely declined to give himself up, -because, as he truly said, he had more than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>kept his promise to Tomlin about helping -him out of the mess.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So Tomlin went. He was a very decent -little chap indeed, and nearly all the fellows -at Dunston’s promised faithfully to buy their -hats entirely at his place in Bond Street, -London, when they left school; which will -be very good business for him if they do. -As for the Doctor, it’s a peculiar fact that -for a whole term after Carlo’s affair he never -flogged a single <a id='corr201.10'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='chap,'>chap.</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_201.10'><ins class='correction' title='chap,'>chap.</ins></a></span> He didn’t seem to -have any heart in him, somehow, owing to -the rum way the howler told upon his spirit.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span> - <h2 class='c003'>Morrant’s Half-Sov.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Of course, as Steggles said truly, the rummest -thing about the whole story of Morrant’s -half-sov. was that he should have one. -Morrant, in fact, never got any pocket-money -in his life, owing to his father being a gentleman -farmer. Not that he had nothing. On -the contrary, his hampers were certainly the -best, except Fowle’s, that ever came to Dunston’s, -both for variety and size and fruit. -The farming business, Morrant said, was all -right from his point of view in the holidays, -as the ferreting, both rats and rabbits, was -good enough for anything, and three packs -of hounds met within walking distance of his -farm, one pack being harriers, which Morrant, -by knowing the country well, could run with -to a certain extent while they hunted. But -Morrant’s father was so worried about chemical -manures and other farming things, including -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>the price of wheat, that he didn’t see -his way to giving Morrant any pocket-money. -He explained to Morrant once that he was -putting every halfpenny he could spare into -Morrant’s education, so as to save him from -having to become a gentleman farmer too -when he grew up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But Morrant didn’t get a farthing in a -general way; so when there arrived a hamper -with an envelope in it, and in the envelope -a bit of paper, and in the paper a half-sovereign, -Morrant was naturally extremely -surprised and also pleased. It came from -his godfather, who had never taken any notice -of Morrant for thirteen years, though he -was a clergyman. But the previous term Morrant -had got a prize for Scripture history, -and when that came to his godfather’s ears, -through Morrant’s mother mentioning it in -a letter, he wrote and said it was good news, -and very unexpected. So he sent the money; -and really Morrant was quite bewildered with -it, being so utterly unaccustomed to tin even -in the meanest shape.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He had a friend by the name of Ferrars, -who was much more religious than Morrant -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>himself, and knew even more Scripture history; -and as a first go-off he asked Ferrars -what he ought to do with the money. And -Ferrars said that before everything Morrant -ought to give a tithe to charity. But when -it was explained to Morrant that this meant -chucking away a shilling on the poor, he -didn’t take to the idea an atom. He said -his father had set him against giving tithes, -not believing in them very much.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So Morrant went to Gideon, who knew -much more about money than Ferrars, and -he said on no account to give a penny away -in charity, because Morrant wasn’t up in the -subject, and might do more harm than good. -He also said that in the case of a chap who -had never had a half-sovereign in his life -before, it was a great question whether he -could be expected to give away any; and -Morrant said there was no question about it -at all, because he wasn’t going to. And it -made even a difference in his feeling towards -Ferrars, for, as he very truly said, a chap -who advised him like Ferrars had couldn’t -be much of a friend.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Having decided to keep it, the point was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>what to do with it. The novelty of the -thing staggered him, and, knowing he would -probably never have another half-sovereign -till he grew up, Morrant felt the awful importance -of spending it right, because an -affair once bought could never be replaced -if lost. And, as Bray said, “If you get used -to a thing, like a watch-chain or a tie-ring, -and then lose it, the feeling you get is much -worse than if you had never had it at all.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I thought about it too for Morrant, as he -once sent me a brace of rabbits by post, shot -by himself in the holidays. I pointed out -to him that half a sovereign was a most -difficult sum really, being, as it were, not -small and not exactly huge, and yet too -much to make light of, especially in Morrant’s -case. If he had got a sovereign, for -instance, he might have bought a silver -watch-chain to take the place of one which -he had. It was made of the hair of his -grandmother when she was young, and Morrant -didn’t much like it, and had often tried -to sell it and failed. But ten bob wouldn’t -buy a silver chain worth having. Morrant -had an idea about braces, and of course he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>might have bought such braces for the -money as would have been seldom seen and -very remarkable; but braces are a poor -thing to put good money into, and I dissuaded -him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There came a change in Morrant after he -had had the half-sovereign for four days and -not thought of anything to buy. He began -to worry, because time was going on and -nothing being done. Fellows gave him -many ideas, some of which he took for an -hour or two, but always abandoned after a -while. Murray told him of a wonderful box -of new conjuring tricks which was to be -had, and he nearly bought it, but luckily -remembered just in time that the new tricks -would get old after a while, and some might -be guessed and would become useless. Then -Parkinson had a remarkably swagger paint-box, -and knew where Morrant could get another -with only three paints less for ten -shillings. And Morrant as near as a toucher -bought that, but happened to remember he -couldn’t paint, and didn’t care in the least -about trying to. Corkey minimus said he -would run the risk and sell Corkey minor’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>bat to Morrant for ten bob, the bat having -cost twelve. The bat was spliced and Corkey -minor was in Australia, having, luckily for -him, sailed to sea just before an exam., owing -to a weak lung. If Morrant had played -cricket he would certainly have bought the -bat; but there again, even though Gideon -told him he might easily get ten-and-six or -eleven shillings for the bat next term, he -hesitated, and finally Gideon bought the bat -himself--as an investment, he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, there was Morrant stuck with his -tin. He wouldn’t even change it, because -Gideon warned him against that, and told -him his father knew men who had made -large fortunes simply by not changing gold -when they had it. Gideon said there was -nothing like never changing gold; so Morrant -didn’t, only of course there was no good -in keeping the money specially stitched into -a private and unknown part of his trousers, -as he did, for safety.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That half-sovereign acted like a regular -cloud on Morrant’s mind; and then came an -extraordinary day when it acted more like a -cloud than ever, owing to its disappearing.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>Morrant had sewn it, with a needle and -thread borrowed from the housekeeper, into -a spot at the bottom of his left trouser-pocket, -and from this spot it mysteriously -vanished in the space of two hours and a -half. He had changed in the dormitory for -“footer,” and left his trousers on his bed at -three o’clock, returning to them at 4.45. -Then, naturally feeling for his half-sovereign, -he missed it altogether, and when -he examined the spot he found his money -had been cut out of the bottom of the pocket -with a knife.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Very wisely Morrant, seeing what a tremendous -thing had happened, did not make -a lot of row, but just told about ten chaps -and no more. I was one. My name is Newnes. -I said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The first question is, Who knew your -secret hiding-place?” and Butler said it was -a very good question and showed sense in -me. Butler is, of course, high in the Sixth.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Morrant, on thinking it over, decided that -three chaps, or four at the outside, knew his -hiding-place. They were Ferrars, Gideon, -Fowle, and, Morrant thought, Phipps. So -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>first Butler, who very kindly undertook the -affair for Morrant, had Phipps brought up. -Phipps stammers even when most calm and -collected, and, being sent for by Butler, -caused him so much excitement that Butler -made him write down the answers to his -questions, and even then Phipps lost his -nerve so that he spelled “yes” with two s’s. -But he solemnly put down and signed that -Morrant had never told him where he kept -his half-sovereign; and after he had gone -Morrant said that, now he came to think -about it, he felt sure Phipps was right. -Which reduced the matter to Ferrars, Gideon, -and Fowle; and the first two were set -aside by Morrant because Ferrars was, of -course, his personal friend, despite the passing -coldness about Ferrars’ advice, and Gideon, -though very keen about money and a -great judge of it, was known to be absolutely -straight, and had never so much as choused -a kid out of a marble.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Butler said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That leaves Fowle; and if you told -Fowle you were a little fool.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And Morrant said:</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>“We were both Roman Catholics by religion, -and that makes a great tie; and -though many chaps hate Fowle pretty -frightfully, I’ve never known him try to -score off me, except once, when he failed -and apologized.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And Butler said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s all right, I dare say; but he’s a -little beast and a cur, and also a sneak of the -deadliest dye. I don’t say he’s taken the -money, because that’s a libel, and he might, -I believe, go to law against me; but I do -say that only one out of three people could -have taken it, and we know two didn’t, -therefore Q.E.D. the other must have.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Morrant didn’t follow this very clever -reasoning on the part of Butler. He only -thought that Fowle, being a Roman Catholic, -would never rob another; and Butler -said he would, because it wasn’t like Freemasons, -who wouldn’t score off one another -for the world. He explained that history -was simply choked up with examples of Roman -Catholics scoring off one another.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Butler said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Religion’s quite different. One Buddhist -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>is often known to have done another Buddhist -in the eye, so why shouldn’t one Roman do -another? In fact, they have thousands of -times, as you’ll know when you come to -read a little history and hear about the -Spanish Inquisition. Especially this may -have happened seeing that Fowle is the chap. -I tell you candidly that, in my opinion, after -a good deal of experience of fellows in general, -I take Fowle to be the most likely boy -in Merivale to have done it; and knowing -him to have had the secret of the private -pocket reduces it to a certainty in my mind. -Tax him with it suddenly in the night, and -you’ll see.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Morrant slept in the same dormitory with -Fowle, and that night the whole room was -woke up at some very late hour by the sound -of Morrant taxing Fowle. Fowle took a long -time to realize what was being said, and when -he was awake enough to realize what Morrant -was getting at, he showed tremendous -indignation, and asked what he had ever done -that such a charge should be brought against -him, especially at such a time. He reminded -Morrant that they were of the same way of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>thinking in holy affairs, and said he was extremely -sick with Morrant, and thought Morrant’s -religion must be pretty rocky if it -allowed him to wake a chap up in the night -and charge him with such a crime. In fact, -Fowle went on so that Morrant finally apologized -rather humbly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>From that day forward began the extraordinary -disappearance of coin in general at -Dunston’s. Shillings constantly went, and -also half-crowns. Gideon got very excited -about it, and said watches must be kept and -traps set. There was evidently a big robbery -going on, and Gideon said if the chaps -weren’t smart enough to catch the thief -they deserved to lose their tin. Certainly -he never lost a penny himself. But, despite -tremendous precautions, money kept going -in small sums. Ferrars was set to watch in -the pavilion, I remember, during a football -match, and Morrant himself, and even Butler -once or twice, also watched. Some chaps -thought it was the ground-man; but as -money also disappeared at school, that showed -it couldn’t be him. And then there was a -theory that it might be a charwoman who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>came from Merivale twice a week. I believe -she was a very good charwoman of her kind, -and Ferrars, who is great about helping the -poor and so on, told me she was a very deserving -woman with a husband at home who -drank, and children too numerous to mention. -Which Gideon remembered against -the charwoman when the money began -to go, and it turned his suspicion towards -her, because, as he said, with the state of -her home affairs, money must be a great -temptation. So a watch was set on her, and -a curious thing happened.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Being small, I can get into a boot cupboard -very easily, and I can also breathe -anywhere through a hole bored with a -gimlet. This was done to the door of the -boot cupboard, and two other rather larger -holes were also made for my eyes. Mrs. -Gouger, which was the charwoman’s name, -had to do a lot of work in this room--a -large one leading out of the gym. And -there, on a certain half-holiday, I was watching -her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She worked jolly hard as far as I could -say, and made a good deal of dust, and a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>curious noise through her teeth when she -scrubbed, which I thought only men did -when they washed horses; but there was -nothing suspicious, if you understand me. -She didn’t touch a coat or anything, though -many were hanging against a wall; and the -few caps about she merely picked up and -hung on the pegs.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then, just before she finished, who should -come in but Ferrars, and, to my great -astonishment, Mrs. Gouger courtesied to him -as though he had been the housekeeper or -the Doctor.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Ferrars treated her with great loftiness, and -evidently knew all about her private affairs.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And how is the child that’s got mumps?” -and she said it was better. He then gave -her some advice about her husband, which -I didn’t hear, and she blessed him for all -his goodness to her, and said God had sent -him to a lone, struggling woman, and that -he would reap a thousandfold what he had -sown. All of which, coming from Mrs. -Gouger to Ferrars, seemed very curious to -me. Presently he said:</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>“Well, I cannot stop longer. I’m glad -the child is better. Keep on at your husband -about the pledge; and here’s a shilling.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Mrs. Gouger put the shilling in her -pocket and blessed him again. And Ferrars -went.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That very day young Forrest lost a shilling -out of his desk, which doesn’t lock, -owing to Forrest having taken the lock off -to sell to Meadowes last term.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I told Butler and Gideon what I had -seen, and Butler thought it rum, and -Gideon said there was more in it than met -the eye.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Butler said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Evidently the kid” (Ferrars is a kid -from Butler’s point of view) “has given the -charwoman tin before, or else she wouldn’t -have blessed him. Now the question is, -How much pocket-money does Ferrars -get?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And I said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A shilling a week.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“When does he get it?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mondays.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>Butler said, “Ah!” but nothing seemed -to strike him, and Gideon thought that Mrs. -Gouger ought to be spoken to. This Gideon -undertook to do; and the next week he did. -What happened was that Mrs. Gouger said -all that she had before said to Ferrars about -her husband and children, but added that -a young gentleman with a most Christian -heart had lately interested himself in her -misfortunes. Gideon asked if it was a -Dunston chap, and Mrs. Gouger answered -that she was not at liberty to say. She seemed -rather defiant about it, Gideon thought, -and, in fact, when he pressed her for the -amount the chap gave her, she told Gideon -to mind his own business. A watch was -still kept, especially on Ferrars; and once -Butler did an awfully cunning thing by setting -Ferrars to watch and setting another -chap to watch Ferrars, if you follow what I -mean. The other chap was Butler himself, -and the room was a dormitory. But it came -out rather awkwardly for Butler, because he -sneezed at the very start, and Ferrars got -out from under the bed where he had arranged -to watch, and found Butler watching -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>behind a coat against the wall. Then they -had a row, because Ferrars evidently thought -Butler was there to watch him; which he -was.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The end of the affair came out rather -tame in its way, and only shows what awfully -peculiar ideas some chaps have. Gideon -finally spoke to Slade, the head of the school, -and though Slade doesn’t like Gideon, owing -to his way of making money by usury, yet it -was such a serious affair that he listened all -through and promised to go to the Doctor. -Gideon had actually kept an account of all -the money stolen, and it amounted now to -the tremendous sum of four pounds five shillings -and sixpence, including Morrant’s half-sovereign.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then, after Dr. Dunston knew, we heard -one day from Fowle that he had sent for -Mrs. Gouger to his study, and that she had -been there fully half an hour and come out -crying. Fowle had listened as best he could -till the Doctor’s butler had come by and told -him to hook it; but he had heard nothing -except one remark in the voice of Mrs. -Gouger, and that remark was, “Four pound -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>five and sixpence, sir, and a godsend if ever -money was.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gideon said her mentioning of the exact -sum was a very ominous thing for Ferrars. -And what was more ominous still happened -that evening, for Ferrars wasn’t at prep. or -prayers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There were a number of ideas about as to -what it all meant, and Corkey minimus, who -always tries to get among chaps bigger than -himself and say clever things, came out with -a theory that Mrs. Gouger was Ferrars’s -mother, and that Ferrars was therefore -stealing and making the money over to her. -But Butler merely smacked his head when -he heard it, and told Corkey minimus not to -be a little ass.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gideon was the only chap who hadn’t any -idea. He knew Ferrars’s great notions about -helping the poor and giving tithes to parsons, -and so on, but he said for a chap to steal -money and hand it over to a charwoman in -charity was contrary to human nature. All -the same, if a thing actually happens, it can’t -be contrary to human nature. Anyway, after -prayers next morning the Doctor stopped -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>the school in chapel and explained everything.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>"My boys, while it is true that you come -to Merivale to be instructed by me and -those who labor here among you on my -behalf, it is also true that I learn occasionally -from those whom I teach. Indeed, new -problems are almost as often set by you -for my solution as by me for yours, and -seldom has a more intricate difficulty confronted -me than that which yesterday challenged -my attention. There has recently -happened among us a mysterious disappearance -of coins of the realm. Now -a shilling, a sixpence, a penny-piece, if -deposited in one spot, will usually remain -there until removed by human agency. And -the human agent who removes money which -belongs to another without that other’s -sanction is a thief. Boys, briefly there has -been a thief among you--a thief whose -moral obliquity has taken such an extraordinary -turn, whose views of rectitude have -become so distorted, that even my own experience -of school-boy ethics cannot parallel -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>his performance. This lad has looked -around him upon the world, and found in -it, as we all must find, a vast amount of -suffering and privation, of honest toil and -of humble heroism, displayed by the lowest -among us. He has also observed that -Providence is pleased to make wide distinctions -between the rich and the poor; he has -noted that where one labors for daily bread -another reaps golden harvests without the -trouble of putting in the sickle. This extraordinary -boy contrasted the position of -one of these humble workers with that of -those among whom his own lot was thrown -here, and he found that whereas that obscure -but necessary and excellent person, -Mrs. Gouger, she whose duty it is to cleanse, -scour, and otherwise purify the disorder -produced by our assemblies--he found, I -say, that whereas Mrs. Gouger worked extremely -hard for sums not considerable, albeit -handsome in connection with the nature -of her labors, others of the human family--yourselves--were -in receipt of weekly allowances -of varying amounts for which you -toiled not, neither did you spin.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>“This unhappy lad allowed his mind to -brood on the apparent injustice of such an -arrangement, and instead of coming to his -head-master for an explanation of this and -other problems which arose to puzzle his -immature intelligence, permitted himself -the immoral, the scandalous, the disgraceful -and horribly mistaken course of righting the -balance from his point of view. This could -only be effected by defiance of those divine -laws which govern all properly constituted -bodies of human society. Ferrars--I need -not conceal his name any longer--Ferrars -broke one commandment in order to obey -another. His fatuous argument, as it was -elaborated yesterday to me, stands based on -error; his crime was the result of the most -complicated ignorance and vicious sophism -it has ever been my lot to discover in a boy -of twelve. He did evil that good might -come. Ascertaining from the inspired Word -that ’charity covereth a multitude of sins,’ -he imagined it must extend to cover that -forbidden by the Eighth Commandment. -This commandment he broke no less than -fourteen times. You ask with horror why. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>That the domestic affairs of Mrs. Gouger -might be ameliorated. He took the pocket-money -of his colleagues, and with it modified -those straits into which poverty and conjugal -difficulties have long cast Mrs. Gouger. It -was Ferrars’s unhappy, and I may say unparalleled, -design to go on appropriating the -money of his school-mates until a sum of five -pounds had been raised and conveyed to -Mrs. Gouger. Of this total, with deplorable -ingenuity, he had already subtracted from -various pockets the sum of four pounds five -shillings and sixpence; it was his intention -to continue these depredations until the entire -sum had been collected. But the end -has come. The facts have been placed before -me, and I confess to you that perhaps -never have I been confronted with a problem -more peculiar. After a lengthy conversation -with those who support me here, and after -placing the proposition before a higher tribunal -than any which earth has to offer, I -have come to a curious decision. I have determined -to leave the fate of the boy Ferrars -in your hands. This time to-morrow I shall -expect Slade, as representing the school, to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>inform me of your decision, and to-day, contrary -to custom, will be a half-holiday, that -the school may debate the question and conclude -upon it. I would point out that there -is no middle course here, in my opinion. -Either Ferrars must be forgiven after a public -apology to the establishment he has outraged, -or he must be expelled. As for the -money, if those who have lost it will apply -to me between one and two o’clock to-day, -each shall have his share again.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, you may guess what a jaw there was -that afternoon; and finally, after hours of -talk, Slade decided the point must be arranged -by putting papers into a hat. If you -drew a cross on the paper it meant that you -wanted Ferrars to be expelled; and if you -drew a naught, that meant he was to be -let off. You were not bound to say how -you voted, and the excitement when the -votes were counted was something frightful. -Ferrars little knew what was going on.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At last the numbers were read out:</p> - -<table class='table1' summary=''> -<colgroup> -<col width='83%' /> -<col width='16%' /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>For expulsion</td> - <td class='c005'>124</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'>Against expulsion</td> - <td class='c005'>101</td> - </tr> -</table> -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>And Slade and Bradwell were mad when -Slade read them, and said that Merivale -was disgraced. But Gideon and Butler -and Ashby major and Trelawny said not, -and thought it wasn’t a case for anything -but justice. The Doctor made no remark -when he heard what had happened, but I -heard him tell the new master, Thompson, -a day afterwards that perhaps the Lower -School ought not to have been allowed to -vote, as small boys would merely have understood -that Ferrars had stolen money and -nothing else. Their minds, the Doctor said, -were not big enough to take in the peculiar -nature of the case. But Thompson said he -honestly believed the school was perfectly -right, and that the subtleties of the case -were not for that court; and the Doctor -sighed and said it might be so.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Anyway, Ferrars went. We never saw -him again, and the only cheerful thing -about the end of it was that Steggles was -badly scored off. You see he nipped off to -the Doctor among the first, and said Ferrars -had stolen ten shillings from him too. But -it happened that Ferrars had kept the most -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>careful account of all the money he had -raised for Mrs. Gouger and the people he -had raised it from. But he had never taken -a farthing from Steggles. So Steggles was -flogged by Mannering in his best form; -which shows that things which are frightfully -sad in themselves often produce fine -results in a roundabout sort of manner.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span> - <h2 class='c003'>The Buckeneers</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Of corse even a kid can get a good idea -sometimes, and Maine, who I was fagging -for, said afterwards that the idea was -alright. Whether young Bailey or me thort -of it first I don’t know, but Maine lent me a -book about coarseers and buckeneers and -such like people, and he said it was a great -life, though not much followed in present -times. He was no good for a coarseer himself, -becorse the sea always made him dredfully -bad, and, besides, he was going to be -a bushranger some day, being an Australian -and well up in it. But he said that Drake -and Raleigh and many other men in our -English history were buckeneers of the dedliest -sort and had made England what it was; -so me and Bailey thort a lot about it and -wished a good deal we could begin that sort -of life. Bailey said that in the books he’d -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>read, if a boy began young, he was generally -a super cargo and went on getting grater -and grater slowly; but I thort boys began as -cabin-boys and got grater very quickly by -resquing people. But Bailey said that was -only in books, and that nobody got on quickly -at sea owing to the compettitishun. He -did not much think there were any buckeneers -left, but Maine said there were, cheefly -off the coast of Africa, and that daring and -dedly deeds were done in the Mediterranan -to this day. He said the lawlessness there -was awful, and that nobodi knew what went -on along the north side of Africa in little -bays and inletts there not marked on maps.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Bailey herd that, he took more interest -in it and wished he had been born the -son of a pirit insted of a doctor, because he -said we should have come eesily to it if our -fathers had been in that corse of life; but -when I told Maine, he sed that the best and -most splendid pirits had had to overcome -grate dificultees in their youth, and that it -was the pirit who began as a meer boy at -school who often made the gratest name.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bailey sed he was a pirit at heart, and I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>sed I was to; but not untell we red a butiful -book by Stevenson could we see any way to -be one reelly. Then we saw that we must -go away from Merivale in secret--in fact, -we must fly; and Bailey sed it would have -to be by night to avoid capture, and Maine -sed it was so. But it was a tremendous -thing to do, and I asked Bailey about his -mother, and Bailey sed his mother would -blub a good deal at first, but she would live -to be proud of him when his name was -wringing through England. And I felt the -same in a way, becorse, though I have got -no mother to blub, I have got an uncle, who -is my gardian, and he is a lawer and a Conservitive -who has tried to get into Parleyment -and failed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then me and Bailey talked it out when -chaps were asleep in our dormitory, and the -thing was what we should reelly and truly -be, becorse there were coarseers and buckeneers -and pirits, and they all had their own -pekuliar ways. So we asked Maine which -was best, and he sed “buckeneers.” He -didn’t seem to know exacktly what a coarseer -was; but he told us all about pirits, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>he sed they kill womin and childrin, and -Bailey said he’d rather be a docter, like his -father, than do that, and I said the same. -But a buckeneer is very diferent, being like -Raleigh and Drake; and a buckeneer may -have his name wringing through England, -but a pirit never has, being rather a beast -reelly. Maine sed it was like this: a pirit -always thinks of himself, and nobody else; -but the best sort of buckeneer thinks of himself, -of corse, but thinks of his country to; -and after he has replennished his coffers he -makes his soverein a present of islands, and -so on, which are gennerally called after him, -so that his name may never be forgottun. -And Bailey sed that was the sort he wanted -to be, and I sed so to.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We thanked Maine a good deal, and he -sed it was a big idea for such kids as us to -get, and hoped we were made of the right -stuff, and promised not to say a word to a -soul. And we finally desided to try it, and -Bailey sed we must have a plan of ackshun; -so we made one.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He said we must run away and work -gradully by night to the coast and go to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>Plymouth, and get into the docks, and find -a ship bound for the north coste of Africa. -I asked him what next, and he sed, very -truly, that that was enuff to begin with, and -that by the time we had done that much -manny adventures would have fallen to our -lot, and we might alredy be in the way to -become buckeneers. And I sed I hoped we -should make freends at sea; but he sed the -fewer freends we made the better buckeneers -we should probbably be, because it is not a -life where you can make freends safely. In -fact, no reel buckeneer would trust his own -brother a yard. And I sed that we must -trust one annuther at any rate. And Bailey -sed, as far as that went, he supposed we -must; but he sed it relluctantly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The thing was then to save up for the -diferent weppons. Maine sed we shouldn’t -want arms, and that money was all we -should require till we got down south; but -Bailey felt sure we must at leest have pistells, -becorse in books the man armed to the -teath is never mollested if people know, but -the unarmed man often looses his life for -want of a weppon. We had one shilling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>pocket-money a week each, and Bailey getting -a birthday, very fortunately, made a -whole pound by it after we had been saving -for three weeks. So between us we suddinly -had one pound six shillings, and Bailey sed -it was share and share alike for the present, -and always would be unless some dedly -hatred sprang up between us. And I sed it -never would; but he sed it might, and if it -did, it would probabbly be about a girl if -books were true. And I larfed, becorse we -both have a grate contemp for all girls.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, things went alright, and on a half-holiday -we managed to get to Merivale and -buy pistells. They were five shillings and -sixpence each, and the man didn’t seem to -much like selling them; but we got them, -and amunition--fifty rounds each. And -Bailey sed that would be enough. Maine -sed they were very good pistells for close -work, but advised us never to use them -unless in soar straights. And we sed we -wouldn’t.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was the day of the menaggeree at -Merivale that me and Bailey finally took -the grate step of going. We had collected -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>a lot of food, and studdied geography so -as to get to Plymouth, and we arranged -that we should travel by night and hide -by day in the hart of impennetrable woods, -which we did. After the menaggeree, at a -certain point on the way home, we slipped -it round a corner, and Thompson didn’t -see us, and in a breef time we were at the -edge of Merivale Woods, free.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“To-night,” Bailey sed, “we will get -across this forest and do eight or ten miles -along the high-road, and so reach Oakshott -Woods at dawn. They are on the edge -of the moor and quite impennetrable.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>So we got well into Merivale Woods first -and made a lair of braken under a fir-tree. -And we cut off some of the fir-tree bark -and licked the sap, which is very nourishing -and feeding, because we wanted to save -our food as much as possible. But we had -each a cold sorsage and a drink of water. -And then night came on, and I felt, for -the first time, that we had done a tremendous -deed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We’re fairly started,” I sed to Bailey. -“It’s just call over at Merivale now.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>And he sed, “Yes; if the fellows in the -upper third could only see us!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I sed, “It’s a small begenning.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And he sed, “It is; but if things go -rite, and we are made of the propper stuff -for buckeneers, we’ll make England wring -yet.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then it began to rain rather hard, and -I found that a wood isn’t really a dry place -by night if it rains, and Bailey lighted a -match, and sed it was nearly nine.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’ll mean ‘lights out’ at Merivale,” -he sed; “but for us it’ll mean the begenning -of the night.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I sneazed just about then, becorse water -from the fir-tree was dropping down my -neck rather fast, and Bailey sed if I was -going to get annything the matter with me -I had better go back at once, becorse no -buckeneer ever had a cold, being men of -steel and iron. And I sed a sneaze was -nothing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then we started very corsiously through -the wood, and Bailey cocked his pistell, and -I asked him kindly to walk in front, feeling -a curious sensashun when he walked behind -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>me with his pistell cocked. I told him, and -he sed it was fear, but I sed it was kaution.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Sometimes he whispered, “Cave!” and -we sunk down and got fritefully dripping -in the wet, but nothing happened, and we -were getting well on through the wood when -Bailey sed, “Cave!” again, and this time, -when we had sunk down, we distinkly herd -a footstep, and Bailey sed it was our first -adventure, and I sed I wished it had come -by daylight, becorse it wants grate practise -to face adventures in the dark at first.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Anyway the noise got nearer and got -louder, and Bailey and me both cocked our -pistells, and he sed, “Reserve your fire to -close range,” and I sed, “Yes.” Then he -sed, “I see the thing. It’s bigger than -a beast you would expect in an English -wood”; and I sed, “I have got a sort of -fealing it is something out of the menaggerie”; -and he sed, “Then it will be a -real adventure, and I wish we were up -trees.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But it was to late, and something went -quite close. I sore a red spark, and Bailey -sed, “Fire!” which we did. At leest my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>pistell went off with fereful effect; but -Bailey’s didn’t, and he sed afterwards that -he’d make the pistell man biterly rew the -day he sold him a treecherous weppon.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But after I fired we herd a human voice, -and it sed, “Hell!” Then it sed other -fearful words, which Bailey sed we ought -to remember because they were buckeneering -words curiously enuff. And then the -man dashed towards us, which showed I had -not slain him, or even hit him in a vittle -spot; and we fled, and soon we found that -we had distanced him, though we had a -squeek for it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He was a keeper,” sed Bailey, “and he -will think we were poachers, and raise a -hue-and-cry. We must keep on and get -into Oakshott Woods, or we shall very likely -have to yield to supereer force.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>After this eksitement I got a curious feeling -in my stomach, and telling Bailey, he -sed it was either hunger or fear. And I sed -it was hunger; but Bailey sed, seeing what -a hevy meal we had made with sorsage and -bred and turpentine juice only two hours -before, that it was fear.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>I sed if he thought so he’d better go on -without me, as I hadn’t taken to this corse -of life to be cheeked by him. And he sed -he was leeder of the gang, and I was the -gang, and the first thing was to lern to obey -orders. And then I got rather cross with -Bailey, and asked him who he thort he was -to give me orders, and reminded him my -pistell could go off anyway, which was more -than his could. This worried him a good -deal, becorse, of course, the man whose pistell -went off had the best of it. Then he -sed that it was no good having a quarrel -between ourselves while we were not yet out -of danger. He also said that he beleeved -we might venture to take one hour’s sleep -to strengthen us before getting on to Oakshott, -and I sed, “Yes,” but thought that -one of us ought to watch while the other -slept. Bailey said he would watch first, and -he sed also that we might get to the woodman’s -hut in the middle of Merivale Woods -if we kept on past a ded fir-tree with its -stem white, becorse all the bark was off, -which we did, becorse the moon was now -shining very britely, and the rain had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>stopped. The cold was also friteful, and -my teath chattered once or twice, but I -broke sticks and things to attract Bailey, -becorse if he had herd my teath he would -have sed it was fear again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Once a bough jumped back and hit Bailey -a friteful smack in the face, and I was glad, -and he sed he rather thort his eye was done -for; and he sed it didn’t much matter if it -was, so long as he had one good eye to see -with, becorse most buckeneers lost an eye -sooner or later, though generally with a -stroak from a cutlass.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We found the hut, and there was some -dry fern in it, and we lighted a candle-end -we had, and took off our boots, and wrung -out our socks, and each had half a currant -dumpling. Then Bailey looked at his watch -and sed I might turn in for half an hour. -Then he would wake me and turn in for -half an hour himself. He went on gard -with another candle-end, and advised me to -draw my pistell and sleep with it cocked -under my head. But I sed I never herd of -such a dangerous thing as that being done, -and kept my pistell reddy cocked near my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>hand. I didn’t fall off to sleep, as I expected, -owing to anxiaty as to our fate, but -I shut my eyes and thort a good deal, and -after my eyes had been shut some time I -opened one a little and was grately surprised -to see Bailey coming towards me steelthily. -He had his pistell in his hand, and first I -had a horrible thort he wanted to kill me, -so that he mite have all our food and money; -and then I felt sure he was coming to change -pistells, so that he might have the one that -went off. This made me get in a friteful -wax with him, becorse I saw he was very -unreliable and not reely as much of a chum -as I had thort. So I waited untill I saw him -stretch out his hand for my pistell, and -then I leapt at his throat in a very ferocious -way, that much surprized him. I -also sed “Hell!” like the keeper had.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It must have been a solumn site by the -lite of the candle-end when we began to -fight tooth-and-nail for the pistell which -could go off. We were both desperet, and -it was reelly a battle to deside which should -be the leeder of the enterprise and which -should be merely the gang. Then, while we -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>wresled and straned every nerve, a curious -thing happened, for we fell against the candle-end, -stuck on the top of a stick, and the -candle-end fell against the side of the hut, -and the hut, being made of wood, with walls -of dried heather, was very inflameable and -cort fire almost immediately.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And then Bailey sed we must aggree to -settle our dispute later on and fli at once. -So we each took our own pistell, and were -just going to leave the scene, when, to our -grate horror, we herd voices, and among -them the voices of Browne and Mainwaring, -who were, of corse, house-masters at Merivale.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Exhorsted though we were, me and Bailey -made a terrible effort to escape, and I think -we mite have done so even then, but, oweing -to the moon and two other men who -were with Mainwaring, we could not reach -an impennetrable part of the wood, and -finally Mainwaring cort me, and a man cort -Bailey, and they dragged us into the light of -the blazing ruins of the hut, and we found -out that Browne and Mainwaring had come -after us, like beestly blood-hounds, and had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>met the keeper, who told them he had been -fired upon, and then the unfortunate burning -of the hut had directed their steps -towards us. And it’s a lesson in a way, -showing what risks it is for buckeneers to -fall out among themselves at kritikal moments.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Of corse we had to walk back merely -as prisoners of Mainwaring, but Bailey told -me not to answer questions and rather let -them cut our tongues out than know the -truth. So they didn’t get anything out of -us, and when we got back, at two o’clock in -the morning, Dunston was up to meet us; -and by that time, what with cold and bruises -and the failure of the skeem, I wasn’t equal -to defying Dunston, and merely sed we -wanted to change our corse of life for something -different, and had started to do so. -And I also sed that burning the hut was an -axsident which might have happened to anybody. -And Bailey sed the same.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Doctor Dunston sent for the matron, -and we had brandy-and-water and a hot -bath, which was very refreshing to me, but -Bailey sed biterly when he was in it that he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>had thought that morning never to have had -a bath again. He also sed we should be -put in sepperate bedrooms that night, and -that if either of us got an opportunety to -eskape, it was his duty to reskue the other. -But I sed I didn’t want to eskape, being -fritefully sleepy and exhorsted, and I sed -that if he eskaped he needn’t trubble to -reskue me, becorse if I returned again to -being a buckeneer it certinnly wouldn’t be -with him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I didn’t see any more of him until next -day; then we were taken in like prisinners -of war before the school, and Doctor Dunston -lecktured upon us as if we were beests -of pray, and he sed that a corse of falty literatuer -was to blame for our running away, -and sed that the school liberary must be reformed. -But he never knew the grate truth, -becorse he sed we were onley running away -to sea becorse of the fascenation of the ocean -to the British karacter, when reely it was to -be buckeneers and the terrer of the Mediterranan.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Maine showed us all the points we had -done wrong afterwards, and he sed the way -<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>we had fought for the best pistell was very -interesting to him and a grate warning not -to trust in your fellow-creetures. And, after -he had lecktured upon us, Doctor Dunston -flogged me and Bailey in publick, which -showed the stuff we were made of, becorse, -though Bailey gets very red when flogged, -he has never been known to shedd a tear; -and I get very white, curiously enuff; but -I have never been known to shedd a tear -either.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>THE END</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><a id='endnote'></a></p> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='large'>Transcriber’s Note</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The text at times uses a semi-literate narrator’s voice and spelling. -Only two obvious punctuation errors have been corrected. The references -here are to the page and line in the original.</p> - -<table class='table2' summary=''> -<colgroup> -<col width='12%' /> -<col width='69%' /> -<col width='18%' /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><a id='c_198.18'></a><a href='#corr198.18'>198.18</a></td> - <td class='c004'>in a cupboard in the gymnasium[./,] under the rubber shoes.</td> - <td class='c013'>Replaced.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c004'><a id='c_201.10'></a><a href='#corr201.10'>201.10</a></td> - <td class='c004'>flogged a single chap[,/.]</td> - <td class='c013'>Replaced.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Human Boy, by Eden Phillpotts - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMAN BOY *** - -***** This file should be named 54270-h.htm or 54270-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/2/7/54270/ - -Produced by KD Weeks, MWS and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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