Later on in life, when Dr Bewley's pupils had grown up to manhood, they
used to think that in spite of school-troubles and a great deal of hard
work, with the natural accompaniments of temporary fits of ill-health
(which matured reason taught them had generally been due to some bit of
boyish folly not unconnected with pocket-money, extra home-tips, and
visits to the highly popular tuck-shop), the sun had always seemed to
shine brightly at Dr Bewley's establishment.
There was only one boy there who wore spectacles, not because he had bad
eyes, for they were very bright and good, but because nature had formed
the lenses of a more than usually rounded shape, with the consequence
that their owner was short-sighted and needed a pair of concave glasses
to deal with the rays of light and lengthen the focus of the natural
lenses. But, metaphorically and poetically, as somebody once wrote,
every boy wore glasses of the _couleur-de-rose_ type--those which make
everything that is happily beautiful seem ten times more so, and in
later days have made many a man say to himself, "Oh, if I could see life
now as I saw it then!"
There were cloudy and rainy days, of course, at Plymborough; and when
the former were recalled it was generally in connection with the loss of
Singh's belt.
It was on one of these cloudy days, when paradoxically the sun was
shining brilliantly in the pure blue south-western sky, that Glyn and
Singh were strolling down the grounds together, looking straight before
them, with the full intention of driving the school-troubles out of
their minds for the time being.
"What's the good of worrying about it, Singhy?" Glyn had said. "I know
it's a horrible nuisance, with the suspicion and unpleasantry, and it
was a very beautiful thing, which I am very, very sorry has been lost;
but let's try and forget it."
"Oh, who can forget it?" cried Singh impatiently.
"Well, I know it's hard work, and it all seems like a nasty little bit
of grit in the school machine. I can't get on with a single lesson
without your wretched belt getting into it."
"My wretched belt!" cried Singh hotly.
"Now, don't get into a passion, old chap. That isn't being English.
You must learn not to put so much pepper in one's daily curry."
"Oh, I am not cold-blooded like you. You English are so horribly tame."
"Oh no, we are not," said Glyn. "We have got plenty of pepper in us
when we want it; but that's where education comes in. I don't mean Dr
Bewley's stuff and all we learn of the masters; but, as my dad says, the
cultivation that makes a fellow an English gentleman. And do you know
what that means?"
"Oh, bother! No."
"Then I'll tell you, Singhy. It's learning to be able to keep the
stopper in the cruet till it's really wanted. Do you understand?"
"No; and I wish you'd talk in plain English and say what you mean, and
not build up a rigmarole all round it. Our people at home never do so."
"Oh, come, I like that!" cried Glyn, laughing. "Why, people out in the
East are always, when they want to teach anything, turning it into a
fable."
"Bother fables! Bother the belt! It's made the whole place seem
miserable."
"Then don't think about it any more."
"I can't help it, I tell you. Why, you owned just now that you were as
bad."
"Not so bad as you are, Singhy. I do try to throw it all aside. You
don't."
"Ah, it's very well for you to talk. You haven't lost something that's
worth nobody knows how much."
"Well, but never mind; you can afford it. See what a jolly old Croesus
you are going to be when you grow up!"
"Bah! How do I know that I am going to be rich?"
"Don't be a humbug. Why, father has been looking after your revenues
for years, and I heard him say once that money was accumulating
tremendously during your minority. After all, what's a belt with some
bright stones in it? You could have a dozen more made if you wanted
them. But you don't! Who wants to look pretty like some great girl?
The greatest thing in life is to be a man. Father says so, and you know
he's always right."
"Yes," said Singh thoughtfully; "he's always right; but did he say
that?"
"Well, not quite," said Glyn, laughing; and Singh looked at him
suspiciously. "What he said was that the grandest thing in life was to
be a boy."
"Ah," cried Singh argumentatively, "but that is very different. A man
can do what he likes, but a boy can't."
"Oh, but a boy's a young man, or is going to be. I mean to be always
glad that I am a boy, for father says that when I grow up to be a man I
shall be often wishing that I was young again. Now, don't let's go on
worrying about this and the old belt. You never wore it, and if it
hadn't been lost I don't believe you ever would have used it. You see,
after living in England you'll have learned that great English people
never dress up except on some grand day when Parliament's going to be
opened or somebody's going to be crowned; and then noblemen, I suppose,
put on robes and wear their coronets. You'd never have wanted the
belt."
"Well, I don't know about that," said Singh. "Of course I shall always
dress like an Englishman; but I suppose sometimes, by-and-by, I shall
have to dress up to show myself to my people."
"Oh yes, just once in a way, and when you are going to meet the other
chiefs; but I'll bet sixpence you will soon be glad enough to take the
things off again."
"But I say," cried Singh, "look here. What about soldiers and officers?
They dress up pretty grandly."
"Well, yes," said Glyn laughingly; "we are obliged to make them look
nice, or they wouldn't care about going shooting people and cutting off
heads. Now, promise me you won't worry any more about the belt."
"Well, I will try," cried Singh, "and I shouldn't have bothered about it
so much now, only every fellow in the school looks at me as if he were
thinking about it all the time."
"Don't believe it," said Glyn. "You fancy he does. There now, let it
go. Here, come and have a turn at something."
"What?"
"I don't know. Let's go across the field there and get under the elms.
There are a whole lot of the fellows there. They have got some game on.
There's Slegge yonder."
"Oh, I don't want to go where Slegge is."
"But you should want to go where Slegge is. I know he's a nasty,
disagreeable fellow; but you needn't notice that. If he's civil--well,
that will be right enough. If he isn't, treat him with good-humoured
contempt. You aren't afraid of him, are you?"
"I! Afraid of him!" cried Singh indignantly, and he emitted quite a
puff of angry breath.--"What did you do that for?" he continued angrily,
for, as if by accident, Glyn, with a quick gesture, had knocked off his
cap, and then stooping quickly snatched it from off the grass and put it
carefully on again. "You did that on purpose," cried Singh angrily.
"Oh, it's all right. It was the stopper came off, and I put it on
again."
"Bah!" cried Singh with a snort; but he walked quietly on, gradually
calming down as his companion half-guided him towards the group of boys
who were idling about under the elm-trees, pretty close to where the new
piece of fence marked the place where the elephant went through.
Yielding to Glyn, Singh would have walked quietly up with him and been
ready enough under his friend's guidance to embark on any sport or game
that was going on; but as Glyn afterwards said when he was laughing it
over, "old Slegge" made the pepper-stopper shoot out at once, for, after
evidently seeing who were approaching, he slowly edged himself round
till his back was to the companions, and began talking aloud, measuring
the time by means of his ears till he came to the conclusion that Singh
was near enough to catch everything he said, and even Glyn winced as he
heard the lad say:
"Oh, by the way, you fellows, I suppose you have done it for a lark, and
you mean to put it back in my box; but I have missed my turban, the one
with the big pearl in it that fastens the plume of feathers."
The boys were silent, staring at the speaker, for they did not catch the
point of the remark; and Slegge continued:
"You see, I set great store by that turban. It was an old one of my
father's, and of course it was very valuable. You see, in Bungly Horror
a turban like that--some fellows call them puggamarees, but that's only
because they are ignorant beggars--but as I was saying, turbans like
that come down from father to son. I don't know how old this one was,
and nobody notices that they are old, because they always go so
regularly to the wash; and you know the more muslin's washed the whiter
it gets, while as for the holes, of course, they are the beauty of it,
because it gets to look more and more like splendid old lace."
Slegge's remarks remained problematical for a few moments, and then the
meaning came with a flash to Burton, who had suddenly caught sight of
Singh and Glyn.
He burst into a merry guffaw at once, and thus set off the rest, while
Slegge waited till they had done before going on with the by no means
poor imitation of Singh's manner of speaking and a rather peculiar
utterance of the consonant _r_.
"I don't know what you fellows are laughing at," he said, with a look of
supreme innocency; "but I suppose you don't know any better. It's your
ignorance of the value of family relics like that; and because you never
see me bouncing about the schoolyard with my turban on, you think I
haven't got one in my box--I mean, had one; so now no more nonsense.
Whoever took it for a lark had better put it back before I get my monkey
up--Indian monkey, I mean--for if I do there's going to be
head-punching, and no mistake."
"Come on, Singh," said Glyn quietly, as he slipped his arm through his
companion's and tried to lead him away. "Don't take any notice of the
malicious brute."
But Singh's feet seemed to be shod with something magnetic which made
them cling to the ground, and he stood fast.
"Come on, I say," cried Glyn. "No nonsense! Do you hear?"
Singh turned upon him quickly with an angry flash in his eyes, and he
was about to burst out with some fierce retort; but in those brief
moments it seemed to him that it was not Glyn's but the Colonel's
masterful eyes that were gazing down into his, as, truth to tell, they
had more than once looked down upon his father in some special crisis
when in the cause of right the brave English officer had with a few
words mastered the untutored Indian chief, and maintained his position
as adviser as well as friend.
The next minute Singh was walking quietly away by his companion's side;
but his arm kept giving a sharp jerk as Slegge went on speaking more and
more loudly, uttering words so that the friends might hear.
"I don't care," said Slegge; "you fellows can do what you like, but I am
not going to believe it. It's all a got-up thing. I don't believe
there ever was any precious belt, or, if there was, it was only a green
glass sham. Emeralds set in gold, indeed! Whoever heard of a fellow
coming to school with a thing like that in his box? Bah! Yah! It
isn't likely that even a nigger would do it." And as the companions
passed out of earshot, Slegge continued, "It doesn't matter to me; my
time's nearly up at school, thank goodness! and I shall finish with the
next half. But I do pity you poor beggars who have got to stay. I
don't know what the place is coming to. It seems to me that old
Bewley's head's getting soft, unless he's getting so hard-up that he's
glad to take anybody's money to keep the old mathematical musical-box
going, or else he wouldn't have taken a nigger to be put in the same
rank with English gentlemen."
"Here, you had better mind," said Burney.
"Why?" snapped out Slegge.
"Because you will have old Glyn hear you."
"Pooh! What do I care for Glyn?"
"Ever so much," said Burney. "I don't suppose you want another
licking."
"Look here, Burney, none of your cheek, please, or else somebody else
will get a licking. None of that. You were always a sneak, and trying
to curry favour with the Indian nigger."
"Curry, eh?" said Burney with a half-laugh. "Well, suppose I did. I
like Indian curry."
"Do you. But you won't like my curry," snorted out Slegge, "for I'll
give you such a curry-combing down as will make you sore for a week, my
fine fellow.--Look here, boys, all of you; I am not ashamed to own I was
licked that day, for I was weak and ill, and in one of the first rounds
I nearly put my elbow out of joint. Something was put out of joint, but
it snapped back."
"He means his nose," whispered little Burton. "It has been ever since
Severn came. I never heard it snap back; did you?"
"I saw him blow it several times," said the companion to whom he spoke,
"and I saw his pocket-hanky after, and, oh my!"
"What are you two boys plotting there?" snarled Slegge. "My ears are
sharper than you think, and if you don't want yours pulled you had
better drop it."
Little Burton dropped upon his knees, crouching down all of a heap and
seeming to subside into the worn brown earth as he laid his forehead
upon the ground, while Slegge seized the opportunity and rushed at him
as if he were a football, delivering a heavy kick that sent the poor
little fellow over.
"Serve you right!" cried Slegge, as the boy uttered a sharp cry of pain.
"Now, go and yelp somewhere else. Let's have none of your howlings
here."
But only a faint sob followed, while the little fellow rose with his
teeth closely set and lips compressed, as he tried to stifle the cries
that were struggling to escape, and then stood leaning against his
nearest companion without uttering a sound.
"Look here, Burton," sneered Slegge, "go and tell Severn, and ask him to
come and lick me again. I am ready, and I'll let him see.--Yes, you may
look, Mr Burney, Esquire. I saw that letter yesterday you had from
home. Esquire indeed! It's sickening!--I am ready to have it out with
him whenever he likes, and take the nigger after him when he's had his
gruel. Go and tell him if you like. It's been dull enough in the place
ever since that miserable imposture about the lost belt. You want
something to rouse you up, and I'll give it you if you can bring those
two fellows up to the scratch; but that you can't do. Look at them
sneaking off like a street cur and an Indian jackal. Contemptible
beasts! I only wish they would come back. I feel just in the humour
now to give them what for. Yah!--Well, any of you going to fetch them
back?"
"I'm not," said Burney, shrugging his shoulders. And he turned
half-away as if to go and lean against the fence, but really to hide his
face as he muttered to himself, "Oh, shouldn't I like to see you licked
again!"
"Well, who's going?" cried Slegge haughtily.--"No one?--Here, you, you
snivelling little wretch," he continued, turning to little Burton, "go,
and tell that big bully Severn that I am waiting here to give him his
dose, and that he's to bring the nigger with him to have his lot when I
have done with number one.--Yes, boys, I feel just in the humour for it,
and I am going to cut both their combs.--Do you hear, Burton?"
The little fellow drew a long, deep breath, but he did not move.
"Do you hear what I say?" roared Slegge.
"Yes," said the little fellow sturdily.
"Well, be off, then, at once, before you get another kick."
"Shan't!" cried the little fellow, through his set teeth; and a sharp
jerk seemed to run through his body as he clenched his fists.
"Oh, that's it, is it?" cried Slegge, making a stride towards him.
"Run, Burton, run!" cried two or three voices.
"Shan't!" came again.
"No," cried Slegge. "He'd better! I'd run him! Here, I don't want to
hurt you, young un. You go and tell them both what I say."
"Shan't!" cried the little fellow fiercely, and he looked his persecutor
full in the face.
"Hark at him! Hark at the little bantam!" cried Slegge, with a forced
laugh. "And look at them, boys. Look at the two slinking off like the
curs they are, with their tails between their legs. There, you will be
disappointed; there's no fight in them."
The big school-hero was quite right certainly as far as one of the pair
was concerned, for just then Singh was saying, "Oh, it's cowardly of
you. I can't bear it. I will go back and have a go at him myself."
"No, you won't," said Glyn sturdily, and he locked Singh's arm well
within his own.
"How dare he insult me like that! I don't care if he half-kills me; but
I won't bear it."
"Yes, you will," said Glyn, "like a man."
"Like a coward, you mean."
"No, I don't. I am not going to have you knocked about just because a
low bully abuses you."
"Well, will you go and thrash him yourself?"
"No. I have whipped the cur once, and I am not going to lower myself by
fighting again because in his spite he turned and barked at us. I could
do it again, and I feel just in the humour; but what does it mean?
Black eyes and bruises, and the skin off one's knuckles, and a nasty
feeling that one has degraded one's self into fighting a blackguard, for
that's what he is, or he wouldn't have insulted you as he did just
now.--Come away."
"Oh, I didn't think you were such a coward, Glyn."
"And you don't think so now," replied Glyn coolly. "You are in a
regular rage, and that's just the difference between you Indian fellows
and an Englishman. You begin going off like a firework."
"Yes, and you go off as if you had had cold water poured on you."
"Very likely," replied Glyn. "There, we are both hot now. Let's try
and cool down. I don't care whether it seems cowardly or whether it
doesn't; but I am not going to get up a fight and make an exhibition of
myself for the other fellows to see. Once was quite enough; and perhaps
after all it's harder work to bear a thing like this than to go over
yonder and punch old Slegge's head and have it out."
"I don't care whether it is or not," said Singh fiercely. "Let's go,
and if you won't fight, I will."
"Look here, Singhy; you and I have had lots of wrestles, haven't we?"
"Yes; but what's that got to do with it?"
"Why, this. I am not bragging; but I have more muscle in my arms than
you have, and if I like I can put you on your back at any time."
"Ur-r-r-r-r-ur!" growled Singh.
"That means you own it. Well now, look here; if you try to get away
from me I'll put you down on your back and sit upon you till you grow
cool."
"Do if you dare!" cried Singh.
Glyn closed with him on the instant. There was a short struggle. The
young Indian prince was laid neatly upon his back almost without an
effort on the part of Glyn, who the next moment was seated calmly
astride his companion's chest, fortunately well out of sight of the
group beneath the elms. Then for a few minutes Singh heaved and
struggled, glaring the while into his companion's eyes, until, as if he
had caught the contagion of the good-humoured smile in Glyn's frank
young face, a change came over Singh's, and the fierce heaving gave way
to a movement that was certainly the beginning of a laugh, followed by a
good-humoured appeal.
"Let me get up, Glyn. I am quite quiet now," said the boy.
"No games?"
"No; honour bright. It's all over now, and I don't want to fight."
The next minute the two lads were walking away as if nothing had
happened.