Towards the end of April, the rising sun ushered in a fine breezy
morning, with every promise of a strong wind during the day. It was a
half-holiday; but on grand occasions of the sort--for it was the day
fixed for the kite-race--the boys were allowed to get up and begin
lessons an hour earlier than usual. The Doctor always encouraged early
rising, and he was, besides, anxious to show us that he took an interest
in our amusements, by making such regulations as might facilitate them.
Ernest and Ellis had constantly been to old Hobson's to see how their
carriage was getting on. "Never you mind, young gen'men, it's all
right," was his answer for some days. "I won't disappoint you; but you
see several has come here who wants such fine painted affairs, that I
must get on with them. There's Mr Blackall, now, who has been and
ordered a carriage which I tells him will take six horses to drag; but
he says that he has got a kite coming which will pull one along ten
miles an hour, twice as big as this, so of course I've nothing more to
say."
A large flat case arrived in the morning of the race day for Blackall,
just as we were going in to lessons after breakfast; so he had no time
to open it. It was not as large as he expected, but still he was very
confident that all was right.
Lessons over, we went in to dinner--and that meal got through, with more
speed than usual, we all assembled to see the kites and the carriages
which had been prepared.
The carpenters were in attendance with the vehicles they had got ready
according to orders received. They were of all shapes and plans.
Several, among whom was Blackall's, were very finely painted, but the
greater number were mere boxes on wheels, put together at very little
expense--which few boys were able to afford, even when clubbing
together.
First appeared Monsieur Malin's kite; it represented a wonderful Green
Dragon, twisting and turning about in the most extraordinary way--the
tail of the kite being merely the small end of the tail of the dragon.
It had great big red eyes, glowing with tinsel, and wings glittering all
over, and a tongue which looked capable of doing a large amount of
mischief. Loud shouts of applause welcomed the green dragon, as
Monsieur Malin held it up like a shield before him, and moved about the
playground, hissing, and howling, and making all sorts of dreadful
noises.
Tommy Bouldon had joined a club, which produced a magnificent Owl, with
a large head, and huge goggling eyes; and never did owl hiss more loudly
than did their owl as it met Monsieur Malin's terrific dragon. They at
last rushed at each other with such fury, that Tommy's head very nearly
went through the owl's body, which would effectually have prevented it
from flying at the match.
Lemon and Buttar had fraternised, and in front of them marched a
Military Officer, magnificent in a red coat, vast gold epaulets, and no
end of gold braiding and trimming, which glittered finely in the sun,
while his richly ornamented cocked hat, set across his head, had on the
top of it a waving plume of feathers, and a drawn sword in his hand
shone in the sunbeams. He looked very fiercely at the dragon and the
owl, as he did at everybody, for his eyes were large, and round, and
dark.
The Dragon roared, and the Owl hissed at him, when he growled out, "I'll
eat you," which produced loud shouts of laughter from both of them,
while they quietly replied, "You can't."
After the General had shown himself, Ellis walked in, bearing a long
thin pole, wrapped round, it appeared, by a flag. Ernest accompanied
him, carrying a reel of fine but very strong twine. Some boys stared,
and others laughed derisively, and asked if he thought that thing was
going to fly. "You'll see--you'll see," he answered very quietly.
"Fly!--Dat it will--higher dan any of ours, I tell you, boys," observed
Monsieur Malin, who had eyed it attentively.
Ernest and Ellis marched across the playground, into the field beyond,
out of sight, and in less than two minutes returned, bearing aloft a
magnificent Knight in silver armour, with a glittering shield on his
arm, a plume on his helmet, and a spear in his hand. His visor was up,
and his countenance, with a fine black beard and moustache, looked forth
fiercely beneath it, while a band of roses, which was thrown over his
shoulder, hung down and formed a very magnificent tail, glittering with
jewels. No sooner did the gallant knight make his appearance than the
derisive laughter and sneers were changed into shouts of applause. All
were agreed that never had a more beautiful kite appeared.
"All very well," cried Dawson, who was expecting Blackall's kite to come
forth, "but it is a question with me whether such a gimcrack-looking
affair will fly."
Blackall had meantime been busily employed in unpacking his kite, which
was to create so much astonishment, and do such mighty things. He undid
the strings and brown paper, and laths, which surrounded it, with eager
haste. A number of boys were looking on, all curious to see what was to
be produced. Dawson was among the most sanguine, expecting that
something very fine was to appear. At last Blackall was seen to scratch
his head, and to look somewhat annoyed.
"Come, come, Blackall," exclaimed Sandford, one of the biggest fellows,
and certainly no friend of his; "let us see this precious kite of yours.
Out with it, man."
"Mind your own business, Sandford," answered the bully, sulkily. "I'll
show the kite when I feel inclined."
"Ho, ho, ho!" replied Sandford, laughing; and knowing perfectly well
that Blackall dared not retaliate, stooping down, he lifted the kite,
and held it up to the view of the whole school. There was a picture of
a big ugly boy daubed in the commonest ochre, and bearing evident marks
of its toy-shop origin, though Tommy Bouldon and others declared that
they recognised in it a strong likeness to Blackall himself. Blackall
seemed to think that some trick had been played him, though it was very
clear that the likeness was accidental.
"It's pretty plain who's got the ugliest and most stupid looking kite,"
said Buttar, as he passed by. "Very like himself. I wonder if it will
fly."
"Yes, if it can find a small kite up in the sky to thrash," observed
Bouldon. "But, I say, let us give three cheers for Blackall's toy-shop
kite. I wonder if he will take it as a compliment."
A boisterous, if not a hearty, cheer was quickly raised, which barely
served to cover a chorus of hisses and groans uttered by a number of
little fellows, who had been in the habit of receiving gratuitous kicks
and cuffs from their amicable companion.
There were several ordinary kites, remarkable chiefly for their size,
being made of newspapers; but there were others contributing an
ingenious variety of devices--bats, and frogs, and fish of curious
shapes. The flying-fish especially looked very natural as they
glittered in the sunbeams, only people could not help inquiring how they
came to be up so high in the air.
At last all were ready to set forth; some pushed the carriages, and
others carried the kites. Ernest and Ellis rolled up theirs, and
carried it along very easily. The Doctor led the way, accompanied by
two or three of the biggest fellows; but he would every now and then
stop, and call up some of the smaller ones to have a talk with them.
The ground chosen for the trial of the kites was a high, downy
table-land, with a fine flat surface. It was a very pretty sight to see
all the boys, with their carriages and gaily-coloured kites, assembled
together. There were nearly fifty kites, for many brought small kites,
with which they had no intention to contend for a prize. All the
masters, and several friends of the Doctor's and some of the boys,
attended to act as umpires. At last everything was arranged.
The kite-flyers formed one long line, with the wind in their backs. The
first point to be decided was the beauty of the kites. Lemon had his
horn, which was to be used as a signal. He blew three shrill blasts.
At the sound of the third, up they all flew, some starting rapidly
upwards; others wavering about before ascending; a few refusing to mount
altogether beyond a few yards off the ground. However, the greater
number mounted rapidly, their brilliant colours flashing in the
sunbeams. The spectators clapped their hands loudly, as a mark of their
approbation, and then set to work to make notes, that they might decide
when called on to declare on whom the prizes ought to be bestowed.
Monsieur Malin's Green Dragon came in for a large share of praise, so
did the General Officer; but Ellis's Knight of the Silver Shield was
decided to be the most elegant and beautiful of all the kites, and the
owner was called forth to receive his meed of applause.
Many were surprised when they saw Ellis, with his awkward gait,
shuffling out from among the crowd; and, more especially, when he
announced himself, in a hesitating tone, not only as the maker, but as
the designer of the Knight of the Silver Shield.
One kite went up some way, just sufficient to exhibit its ugliness, but
wavered and rolled about in the most extraordinary manner, evidently
showing that it was lop-sided. It received shouts, but they were not of
applause, and they were accompanied by hisses, which the Doctor,
however, repressed. The kite received in this unflattering way was
Blackall's boasted toy-shop production. He was highly indignant, and
walked about stamping with rage.
Buttar and Bouldon were much amused, and expressed a hope that he would
expend his fury on his kite, and cut it to pieces. He drew out his
knife, evidently with that intention, but he had not the heart to attack
it.
"I'll tell you what it is, Bobby," said he to Dawson, who was standing
by not a little disgusted, "it pulls terrifically hard, and in my
opinion, if it is altered a little, and has a heavier wing put on the
right side, it will yet do magnificently, and make all those howling
monkeys change their tone. That dolt Ellis, and that conceited chap
Bracebridge, will soon find that their finely-bedizened machine is cut
out. My carriage is, I know, such a first-rate one, that it will go
along with anything."
Dawson was in great hopes that Blackall was right, for he had staked his
reputation, as he said, on the success of his patron and his imported
kite, and he had no fancy to find himself laughed at. In what Master
Bobby Dawson's reputation consisted he did not stop to inquire, and
certainly anybody else would have been very puzzled to say.
The rest of the kite-flyers troubled themselves very little about
Blackall and his ill success. They were all intent on making their own
kites perform their best. After the kites had flown for some time, the
Doctor advanced from the group of spectators and umpires, and summoned
Ellis and Monsieur Malin, and, with an appropriate address, bestowed on
them the two first prizes, complimenting them on their design, and the
beauty of the execution.
And now the time arrived to try which kites could fly the highest. All
were hauled in, and the boys stood as before in a row. The signal was
given by Lemon, and up they went, soaring far away into the blue sky.
This time Ernest had a kite as well as Ellis. It was a good large kite,
with remarkably strong string. The device was that of a man-at-arms,
with a gleaming battle-axe over his shoulder, or, as Ernest called it,
the Squire.
"Why, Bracebridge! what do you expect that kite to do, eh?" exclaimed
Lemon. "It is too heavy-looking to fly, and not large enough to drag a
carriage."
"I hope that at all events he will do his duty, and prove a faithful
Squire," answered Bracebridge.
"I wonder what he means?" said several boys who overheard him.
Away soared the kites; some of them appeared as if they would never come
down again. The Green Dragon rose very high, and must have astonished
the birds and beasts of the field, if it did not the human beings in the
valley below. The Silver Knight also played his part well up in the
skies, so did the General, and many others. Up, up went the Green
Dragon, and high soared the Silver Knight; Excelsior was his motto; but
high as he went, the Green Dragon went higher.
"Hilloa, Bracebridge, you and your friend should have chosen a different
motto for your knight, for the Green Dragon is beating him, and the old
Owl is not far behind," exclaimed Lemon, who, while manoeuvring his
kite, found himself not far from Ernest.
"Stay a bit," answered Ernest, in a good-natured tone; "perhaps our
knight may yet prove that his motto was not ill-chosen. We have not yet
got to the end of our line."
Monsieur Malin kept easing out his line, and his monster went slowly
upward, but it was evident that the weight of string it had already to
bear was almost too much for it, and that it would not carry much more.
It was a brave dragon, however, and in the French master's skilful
hands, it is extraordinary how high it got up. At last it was evident
that it was stationary, and required a great deal of manoeuvring to be
kept at the height it had attained.
"Now, Bracebridge," cried Ellis, who had worked the Silver Knight up
almost as high, "let me have your line."
"All right," answered Bracebridge, hauling down his kite till it was
within thirty feet of the ground. "Hook on."
On this Ellis brought the end of his line up to Bracebridge, who
fastened it to the string of the Squire, which immediately shot upward,
while higher and higher flew the Silver Knight. He reached the Green
Dragon, and floated proudly past him. Up he went, higher and higher,
till a glittering spot could alone be seen in the blue heavens. Shouts
of applause broke from the spectators.
"Now," cried Bracebridge triumphantly, "has not our knight chosen his
motto with judgment, Excelsior? See, up he goes higher and higher."
Higher he did go, indeed; and in a short time the glittering spot was
lost to view.
"We could easily get our Squire out of sight also, if we could find a
line light enough and strong enough to bear the strain of the two kites
together, but no string we have got here could bear the strain that
would be put upon it," observed Ernest to those who came round to
observe the wonder which had been wrought.
Some declared that it was not fair, and that they had no right to fasten
the string of one kite to that of another.
"Oh! that's all nonsense, and you fellows know it well," answered
Ernest. "The question to be decided is, which kite can reach the
farthest from the earth, and ours has done so. Unless another gets
higher, we shall win the prize."
No other kite got even so high as the Green Dragon, so the Silver Knight
was most justly declared to be the winner of the prize.
"Froggy Malin's and those fellows' kites may fly high, but they will not
be able to pull anything along," growled out Blackall. "Before they
think that they are going to carry off all the prizes, let us see what
my kite can do. He looks like a strong, tough fellow, who can pull hard
at all events."
Dawson and a few of Blackall's admirers echoed these sentiments, fully
believing that he did not boast without reason of what he would do.
The carriages were now brought forward from a chalk-pit, where they had
been concealed, and formed a line in front of the spectators.
Blackall's was certainly the largest, and not the least gay and gaudy,
but more than one person smiled at the notion of its being dragged along
by a single kite. None of the carriages could boast of much beauty, but
some were very finely painted, and were admired accordingly. When
Ernest brought out his vehicle, it was much laughed at, for it had such
an odd, spider-like, skeleton look. Still the knowing ones acknowledged
that it might have a great deal of go in it.
Most of the line of the kites was now hauled in and wound up. Ernest
and Ellis got down the Silver Knight, and fastened some light lines to
each of his wings, and brought them down to the carriage. Two or three
boys stood round each carriage holding it. At a signal, given by Lemon
on his horn, to prepare, they all jumped in. At another, all hands were
taken off the carriages, and away most of them went at a fair speed.
One did not move--it was Blackall's. Who could picture his wrath and
indignation? He pulled and pulled at the line; the kite rose somewhat,
but wavered about terribly: now it darted to one side, now to the other.
"Come along, Blackall, come along," shouted several of the racers, as
they moved on, and left him trying all sorts of useless experiments to
make the kite pull and the carriage move. Neither one nor the other
could he accomplish. Shouts of laughter reached his ear, and he was
conscious that they were caused by his ill success. This only increased
his rage and bitterness. He stamped in his anger and impatience till he
knocked his feet through the boards which formed the bottom of his
carriage. He lost all command over himself. He hallooed; he shouted at
his kite; and then he swore great, horrible oaths at the kite, and the
carriage, and at the wind, till the voice of the Doctor sounded in his
ear, ordering him sternly to get out of the carriage and drag it out of
the way. He sulkily obeyed, and wound up the string of his kite, and
betook himself to the background, trembling lest the Doctor should have
overheard his expressions.
"I say, Dawson,--I say, Smith,--do you think the old one heard what I
said?" he asked, as he was going off, and they stood, not liking to
desert him altogether, and yet wishing to go on and see the fun.
"I believe you he did, my boy," answered Smith, who had but little of
the milk of human kindness in his composition. "You spoke loud enough
to be heard half-a-mile off."
"But I say, Bobby, do you think so? Did he hear me? By Jove, I shall
get a pretty jobation if he did!" exclaimed the bully, appealing in a
whining tone to Dawson.
The wretched, cowardly lad forgot that there was another--a great
Omniscient Being--who, at all events, heard him; and that every evil
word he had uttered had assuredly been registered in a book whence it
would never be erased till the Day of Judgment, when it would be made
known to thousands and tens of thousands of astonished and mourning
listeners. But such an idea never crossed Blackall's mind. Had it,
perhaps it might have prevented him from uttering the expressions of
which he so frequently made use.
Fearful only of the immediate disagreeable consequences should the
Doctor have heard him, he retired by himself from the ground; while
Dawson, and the few other boys who had hitherto adhered to him, set off
in pursuit of the racers.
With shouts of laughter the racers went on. At first the Green Dragon
took the lead, followed closely by the Owl, for both the carriages were
very light, and the kites were skilfully managed. Each of them had a
second kite attached; for, unless there had been a very strong wind, one
would scarcely have dragged them on. Monsieur Malin had selected two
boys to manage his carriage, and he ran by their side to direct them;
for his own weight would have been too great for it. The Knight and
Squire followed closely on the first two carriages. They were flying,
on starting, somewhat too high; but Ernest hauled in the lines, and the
effect was soon perceptible. On went their daddy-long-legs, as he and
Ellis called their car, and soon got up to the Owl.
"To-hoo, to-hoo, to-hoo!" cried the directors of the Owl, but the Knight
and his Squire pulled away, and the Owl was left astern, and very soon
the Green Dragon was overtaken. They, of course, were assailed with the
most horrible hisses, and roars, and strange noises of all sorts; but
these did not daunt the Knight and his Squire, who went bravely on.
"Excelsior! excelsior! Hurra! hurra!" shouted Ernest and Ellis, as
their car took the lead. Gradually, but surely, it increased its
distance from the rest. Monsieur Malin did his best to manoeuvre his
kites; so did Lemon and the rest; but they could not manage to overtake
the Knight and his Squire, though they hissed, and roared, and shouted
with merry peals of laughter between the intervals, calling them to
stop, and not go ahead so fast.
"Old Hobson did not deceive us," observed Ellis; "really this carriage
goes along capitally."
"He has done us justice, certainly," answered Ernest. "But remember,
Ellis, our success is entirely owing to your talent and judgment. You
think too little of yourself. Now, hurrah! we shall soon be at the
winning-post if the wind holds."
Never were there more merry or noisy racers; except, perhaps, in a
donkey race, when the winner is the donkey which comes in last.
"Very easy to win that sort of race," some one will say.
Not at all, though.
In ordinary races, each jockey wishes the horse he rides to win; but, in
donkey races,--which I hold to be superior to all others, whether at
Goodwood, or Ascot, or Epsom,--each jockey rides his opponent's donkey,
so each is anxious to get in before the other, and, if possible, to
leave his own behind.
The wind blew fair; the kites drew capitally; the Green Dragon was,
after all, not very far behind the Knight and Squire; and the Owl came
too-hooing, close upon the Dragon's tail; while the General Officer
seemed in a great hurry to catch the Owl, and kept singing out "Halt!
halt! right-about-face," and other expressions evidently from a somewhat
scanty vocabulary of military terms. The rest of the racers came up
pretty thickly one after the other.
As they reached the winning-post, where one of the masters stood ready
to mark the time of their arrival, there was a general shout for
Blackall and his fat boy.
"Oh, he was last seen in the chalk-pit, hacking him to pieces with his
knife, while he seemed inclined to treat his wonderful carriage much in
the same way." A boy who had just come up gave this news.
A few expressions of commiseration were uttered by Dawson and others;
but in their hearts no one really pitied the bully. How could they?
What had he ever done to win the affection, or regard, or esteem of any
one of his school-fellows? Certainly, to those with whom he associated
and whom he patronised, he had ever done far more harm than good; and of
this most of them were aware at the time, though they might not be
willing to acknowledge it to themselves; and bitterly were they
conscious of it before many years were past, when they reaped the fruits
of his pernicious example. Several sunk into early and dishonoured
graves: others lived, ruined in health and constitution, to bemoan the
fate which their folly and vice had brought on them. But to return to
our merry racers.
They were called up forthwith to receive their prizes. The most
valuable were some serviceable fishing-rods, reels, lines,
fishing-baskets, a couple of bows, and the various accoutrements
required in archery, a good bat or two, and similar things valued by
boys.
The Doctor made a very neat speech, and complimented them all on the
skill and talent displayed both in kites and carriages.
"Especially I must compliment you, Bracebridge, on the beauty of your
kites, and the skill with which you have managed them."
"Not me, sir, but Ellis deserves the praise," answered Ernest in a
clear, loud voice, so that every one might hear. "He is a very clever
fellow, sir, only he does not know it. He thought of the carriages and
the kites, and, indeed, of every thing; I merely helped him. I joined
him because I knew that by himself he would be too diffident to carry
out his own plans. I was his assistant, that was all."
"I am glad to hear you thus speak of Ellis, but you equally deserve the
prize, although you only aided him in carrying out his plans. I have,
therefore, to present you with this bow, and all the equipments
complete; and you, Ellis, with this fishing-rod, and all the
accompanying gear."
Ernest, who was perfectly free from timidity, and always expressed
himself well, made a very appropriate reply; and, at poor Ellis's
earnest request, spoke for him also, and said a great deal more in his
favour than he would have done himself.
Monsieur Malin seemed as much pleased at getting a prize as were any of
the boys. A capital fishing-rod was presented to him; and he invited
all who had rods to accompany him some day on a grand fishing
expedition. Altogether, the kite-flying was most successful; and a
stout old gentleman, one of the umpires, expressed a hope that next year
they might all enjoy a similar treat; and that he was not at all certain
that he should not try to get half-a-dozen kites and a carriage, with
which he might join in the race. Several merry voices shouted "We hope
you will, sir,--we hope you will." And that made him so enthusiastic
that he promised, if he possibly could, to do as he had proposed.
They all went back to a capital, grand half-holiday tea, which was very
different to the ordinary meal of bread-and-butter; and consisted of
cakes, and sandwiches, and meat-pies, and sausages, and all sorts of
substantial productions likely to satisfy the appetites of hungry boys.
The only person who did not enjoy the day was Blackall. He came back
expecting every instant to be called up by the Doctor; but bed-time
came, and he was not summoned. As he was on his way to his room he met
Ellis, who was about to pass him without looking at him, or in any way
taking notice of him.
"What do you mean by grinning at me, you young scamp?" exclaimed
Blackall suddenly.
"I did not intentionally alter a muscle of my countenance," answered
Ellis quietly. "Did you, however, address me?"
"If that's intended for impudence, take that," cried Blackall, dealing a
heavy blow with his fist on Ellis's head. "I allow no young jackanapes
like you to treat me with contempt."
"But if we feel contempt, how do you expect to be treated?" exclaimed a
brisk, confident voice close at his elbow.
Blackall turned round to see who had dared thus to beard him. He saw
Bracebridge standing close to him, in an attitude which showed that he
was prepared for an attack.
"You want to get it, do you?" exclaimed Blackall, furiously, at finding
his authority disputed by a boy of Ernest's size. "You shall have more
than you expect."
"Now, run off, Ellis; run off," cried Ernest; "I'll tackle this fellow."
Ellis did not run, though Blackall let him go and advanced towards
Ernest; but Ernest's undaunted bearing completely staggered him. He
stood irresolute; while his opponent fixed his eye boldly on him. He
feared some trick. He thought that some big fellow must be behind,
ready to back up Bracebridge; or that he knew the Doctor was coming. He
judged of other people by what he knew himself to be. He had no
conception of the existence of the spirit which animated Ernest.
"Well, what are you going to do?" said Ernest, as he stood with clenched
fist before him. "If you are going to strike me, do it at once, and get
it over. I have no wish to stay here all night, waiting to be attacked
by you."
While Ernest was speaking, Blackall was considering what he would do.
At last, seeing no one coming, he plucked up courage, and made a dash at
Ernest, who, springing aside, adroitly, warded off the blow.
Poor Ellis, meantime, stood by, trembling with agitation. He knew from
sad experience that the bully hit very hard; and every blow he saw aimed
at his friend he felt as if it had hurt him ten times as much as if it
had been struck at himself.
They were in one of the many passages leading to the bedrooms, through
which neither the masters nor servants often passed, so that Blackall
knew that he was pretty secure from interruption. Ernest was aware of
the same fact. He cared nothing at all about the thrashing he should
get, and was only anxious to save Ellis. Ellis, however, would not
move, and Blackall looked as if he would thrash both of them.
Still more angry at being baulked of his revenge, Blackall again struck
at Ernest, and tried to catch him, but in the latter object he did not
succeed, though he hurt Ernest's arm, so that he could with difficulty
defend himself; and now blow succeeded blow with considerable rapidity.
Bracebridge disdained to fly, and as he could not hope to return the
blows with much effect, he contented himself at first with standing on
the defensive, waiting his opportunity to hit his powerful opponent in
the eye or face, where he might leave a mark not easily effaced. He
knew that if he succeeded, he should still further enrage the bully; but
he also knew that it was very likely to prevent him from ever attacking
him again. As Blackall hit out, he sprang back along the passage, then
suddenly stopping, he leaped forward again, and put in the blow he
desired.
Blackall's eyes struck fire, but he was too well accustomed to the use,
or rather the misuse, of his fists to allow his opponent to escape him.
Ernest was again retreating. Blackall caught him under his arm, and was
about to inflict the most severe and disagreeable of punishments, by
gibbing him, when poor Ellis, who had hitherto stood trembling at a
distance, in obedience to Ernest's directions, could bear it no longer;
and, throwing himself forward, leaped on Blackall's back, and held his
arms with all his might and main, butting away at the same time, like a
ram, with his head, and kicking furiously with his long legs, biting, it
was said, the bully's ears and cheeks. However that may be, Blackall
was compelled to let Ernest go, for the purpose of shaking off his new
and ferocious assailant. This was not very easily done, for Ellis had
remarkably long and strong arms, and held on like a vice. Ernest seeing
this, resolved to bring the bully to terms.
"I say, Blackall, if Ellis lets you go, will you promise faithfully not
to hurt him in any way, by word, look, or deed?" exclaimed Ernest.
Blackall did not deign to reply, but continued his impotent efforts to
shake off his old man of the woods. He jumped and leaped, and backed
against the walls, but to no purpose; he could not manage to get rid of
his burden.
"Well, what is your determination?" asked Ernest again, advancing in a
threatening attitude towards Blackall, on whom he could now, had he
chosen, have inflicted a very severe punishment. "Will you promise
faithfully, by all you hold sacred, not to touch or hurt Ellis in any
way for this?"
"I should think you had better try to make a bargain for yourself
first," said Blackall.
"Not I!" said Bracebridge, proudly; "I can stand a thrashing far better
than Ellis. I am pretty well accustomed to your lickings, and they
don't hurt me much. Therefore, again, I ask you, will you promise, or
will you not?" As he spoke, he doubled his fists, and advanced on
Blackall, whose face was completely exposed to an attack, while Ellis
kept battering away at his head, and grasped his arms tighter than ever.
What might have been the consequences I do not know; Bracebridge, in all
probability, would pretty severely have handled the bully, and, his
anger being excited, would have left some marks not very easily
eradicated on his countenance: when a light was seen in the passage, and
a quick step advanced towards them. Bracebridge disdained to fly, and
Blackall could not, so they waited the result.
"Ah! vat you garcons do there?" exclaimed Monsieur Malin, for it was the
French master, holding up his candle. "Let me see! Ah, I understand!
You, Blackall, are one very bad boy. You go to bed now. Bracebridge,
Ellis, you come with me."
Ellis on this jumped off Blackall's back, and glad he was to do so, for
his arms were beginning to ache terribly with his exertions.
Blackall sneaked off, vowing vengeance in his craven heart on his
adversaries; and the kind-hearted Frenchman led the other two away, and
urged them to keep clear of the bully. When, however, he heard how the
affair had taken place, he was very much inclined to go and inform the
Doctor, to try and get Blackall expelled, but they entreated aim not to
do so, and declared that they did not fear him, and would not run the
risk of thus injuring his prospects.
"Ah, you are brave garcons, brave garcons!" exclaimed Monsieur Malin.
At all events, they were true, right-feeling English boys.