6. That the first thirty members be elected by ballot by the whole
school, and future vacancies be filled up by the Club.
7. That all the original members of the old Club shall be considered
eligible for election whether they have complied with any of the
conditions named or not. (Laughter and blushes.)
8. That if there are less than six fellows eligible in any Form, the
number may be filled up from eligible candidates in the Form below.
"There, that's--roughly speaking--how it is proposed the new Club should
be formed."
"We should like to know," said Cresswell, rising, "what the Club will
do, when it will meet, and so on?"
"Well," said Freckleton, "we thought we could get leave to use the
library every evening; and, being a Sociable Club we should try to
afford to take in a few of the illustrated and other papers, and manage
supper together now and then, and make ourselves as comfortable as
possible,"--(laughter and cheers, especially from the youngsters). "If
we got talent enough in the Club, we might give the school a concert or
a dramatic performance now and then, or, in the summer, try our hand at
a picnic or a fishing cruise. If Cresswell gets elected himself--and
he'd better not be too sure--he'll find out that the 'Sociables' will
have a very good idea of making themselves snug." (Laughter.)
"Is there to be any entrance-fee or subscription?" asked Birket. "We
think fellows might be asked to subscribe half-a-crown a term. It's not
very much; and as the juniors usually have twice as much spare cash as
we seniors, we don't think they will shy at the Club for that,"--(loud
cheers and laughter from the juniors).
"There's just one other thing, by the way," continued the Hermit. "It's
only, perhaps, to be talking about turning fellows out of the Club, but
we think we ought to protect ourselves by some rule which will make any
member of the Club who does anything low or discreditable to Templeton
liable to be politely requested to retire. I don't mean mere monitors'
rows, of course. Fellows aren't obliged to get into them, though they
do. But I don't think we ought to be too stiff, and turn a fellow out
because he happens to get a hundred lines from Cartwright, for climbing
one of the elms. (Laughter, and 'hear, hear,' from Cartwright.) He's
no business to climb elms, and it's quite right to give him lines for
it. But as long as he doesn't do that sort of thing systematically, in
defiance of rules, then, I say, let him find some place other than the
club-room, to do his lines in--(hear, hear). The fellows the Club will
want to protect itself against are the cads and sneaks and cheats, who
may be knowing enough to keep square with the monitors, but are neither
Select nor Sociable enough for a Club like ours. There, I never made
such a long speech in all my life; I'm quite ashamed of myself."
Templeton forgot its good manners, and cheered loudly at this point.
There was something about the genial, unassuming, straightforward Hermit
which touched the fellows on their soft side, and made them accept him
with pride as a representative of the truest Templeton spirit. They
might not, perhaps, love him as fondly as they loved dear old lazy
Ponty, but there was not one fellow who did not admire and respect him,
or covet his good opinion.
As soon as silence was obtained, Mansfield rose.
It was a self-denying thing to do, and the Captain knew it. There was
very little affection in the silence which fell on the room. He had
given up, long since, expecting it. It said much for him that its
absence neither soured nor embittered him. It made him unhappy, but he
kept that to himself, and let it influence him not a whit in the path of
duty he had set before him--a path from which not even the hatred of
Templeton would have driven him.
"I'm sure we are all very grateful to Freckleton," he said. "It will be
an honour to anyone to get into the Club, and for those who don't get on
at first, it will be something to look forward to and work for. I don't
think a better set of rules could have been drawn up. It will be a
thoroughly representative Club of all that is good in Templeton. It
doesn't favour any one set of fellows more than another. Fellows who
are good at work, and fellows who are good at sports have all an equal
chance. The only sort of fellows it doesn't favour are the louts and
the cads, and the less they are favoured anywhere in Templeton the
better. It's a shame to trouble Freckleton with more questions, but
some of us would like to know when the ballot for the new Club is to
take place, and how he proposes we should vote?"
There was a faint cheer as the Captain sat down. Templeton, whatever
its likes and dislikes were, always appreciated generosity. And the
Captain's honest, ungrudging approval of a comrade who had already
distanced him in the hold he exercised over Templeton, pleased them, and
told in the speaker's favour.
"I think the best way would be," said Freckleton, "for every fellow to
make a list of the thirty fellows he thinks most eligible, between now
and to-day week. If he can't think of thirty, then let him put down all
he can, remembering that there are not to be more than six in any form.
To-day week we'll have the ballot, and fellows will drop their lists
into the box, and the highest thirty will be elected."
"Hadn't we better have a list posted up somewhere of the names of
fellows in each form who are eligible?" asked someone.
"Certainly. I'll have one up to-morrow, and if there are any
corrections and additions to make, there will be time to make them, and
get out a final list two days before the election."
Among the crowd which jostled in front of the list on the library door,
next day, might have been seen the eager and disconsolate faces of our
three heroes.
Alas! not one of their names was there! Everybody else's seemed to be
there but their's. Aspinall's was there, of course, for Aspinall had
won his remove with honour last term. Raggles was there, for Raggles
had played in the junior tennis fours of Westover's against the rival
houses. Spokes was there, for Spokes had swum round the Black Buoy, and
become a "shark." Even Gosse was there, for Gosse had "walked over" for
the high jumps for boys under 4 foot, 6 inches, last sports.
Dick gulped down something like a groan, as he strained his eyes up and
down the cruel list, in the vague hope of finding his name in some
corner, however humble.
But no. He turned away at last, with his two disconsolate friends,
feeling more humiliated than he had ever felt in his life.
He had done nothing for Templeton--he, who had passed for a leader among
his compeers, and for a hero among his inferiors!
His record was absolutely empty. In school he had failed miserably; out
of school he had shirked sports in which he ought easily to have
excelled and "rotted" when he might have been doing good execution for
Templeton. He scoured his memory to think of anything that might savour
of credit. There was the New Boys' Race. He had won that, but that was
all, and it didn't count. He had thrashed Culver and been patted on the
back for it, but that hadn't got him on to the list.
And, except for these two exploits, what good had he done? Nay, hadn't
he done harm instead of good? He had dragged Heathcote after him, and
Heathcote and he had dragged Coote; and here they were all left out in
the cold.
Dick remembered the Ghost's letter, and could have kicked himself for
being so slow to take its advice.
"We're out of it," said Georgie, dismally, as the three walked down the
shady side of the fields. "I did think we might have scraped in
somehow."
"Whatever could you have scraped in for?" asked Dick sharply. "Hadn't
you better give in we've been a pack of fools at once?"
"So we have," said Coote. "I'd have liked awfully to get in the Club.
How stunning the picnics would be!"
"Young ass!" said Dick, "the grub's all you think about. Even if you
got on the list, it doesn't follow you'd be elected."
"It would be something, though, to get on the list," said Georgie. "It
makes a fellow feel so small to be out of it. Think of that howling
young Gosse being on!"
"Yes, and Raggles!" said Coote.
"Look here, I say," exclaimed Dick, suddenly stopping short in his walk,
his face lighting up with the brilliancy of the inspiration, "what asses
we are! There's the first Harrier hunt of the season to-morrow. Of
course, we'll go and run through!"
Heathcote whistled.
"They sometimes run a twelve-miler," said he.
"Never mind if they run twelve hundred," said Dick. "We're bound to be
in it, I tell you; it's our only chance."
"Birket told me hardly anyone ever runs in it below the Upper Fourth."
"Can't help that," said Dick, decisively; "there's nothing to prevent
us."
"Oh, of course not," said Heathcote, who inwardly reflected that there
was nothing to prevent their jumping over the moon if they only could.
"You're game, then?"
"All right," replied the two pliable ones.
"Hurrah! You know, we may not keep close up all the way, but if we can
only run it through it's all right. By Jove! I am glad I thought of
it, aren't you?"
"Awfully," they said.
Templeton opened its eyes that evening when it saw the "Firm" solemnly
go to bed at half-past seven.
It wasn't their usual practice to shorten their days in this manner, and
it was evident this early retirement meant something.
Speculation was set at rest next morning when, immediately after morning
school, they appeared in their knickerbockers and running shoes and bare
shins.
"Hullo!" said Cresswell, who was the first to encounter them in this
trim, "are you youngsters going to have a little run of your own?"
Cresswell was in running costume, too--a model whipper-in--determined to
do his part in the long afternoon's work which he had cut out for
himself and his Harriers.
"We're going to run in the big hunt," said Dick, modestly.
"What!" said the senior, laughing; "do you know what the run is?"
"About twelve-miles, isn't it?" said Coote, glad to air his knowledge.
"Yes. I'm afraid it will be hardly worth your while to take such a
short trot," said Cresswell, with a grin.
"We're going to try," said Dick, resolutely. "Who are the hares,
Cresswell?"
"Swinstead and Birket; good hares, too. But, I say, youngsters, you'd
better not make asses of yourselves. If you like to come the first mile
or two, all right, but take my advice and turn back before you're too
far from home."
"We're going to run it through," said Dick, "if we possibly can."
"We want to get on the Sociables' list," blurted out the confiding
Coote; "that's why."
Dick and Heathcote blushed up guiltily, and rushed their indiscreet chum
off before he had time to unbosom himself further.
Cresswell, with the grin still on his honest face, turned into
Freckleton's study.
"By Jove! old man," said he, "you'll have a lot to answer for, the rate
you're going on. There are three youngsters--my fag Dick and his two
chums--going to run this hunt through, because their names are not on
your precious list. They'll kill themselves."
"Hurrah!" cried the Hermit. "I'm delighted--not, of course, about the
killing, but I like spirit. I hope they'll scramble through. Mark my
word, Cress., those three partners will make their mark in Templeton
yet."
"They're likely to make their mark at a coroner's inquest," said
Cresswell. "Did _you_ ever run in a twelve-mile hunt?"
"No, thank you," said the Hermit. "Well, I only hope they'll cool down
before they go too far, that's all," said the whipper-in. "They don't
know what they're in for."
"They're in for the 'Sociables,' and more power to them, say I," said
the Hermit. When Cresswell arrived at the meet, he found our heroes the
centres of attraction to the crowd who usually assembled to see the
hounds "throw off."
They bore their honours meekly, and affected an indifference they were
far from feeling to the chaff and expostulations which showered upon
them from all sides.
"All show off!" cried Gosse. "They'll sit down and have a nap under the
first hedge, and make believe they ran it through."
"Come, youngsters," said Cartwright, "you've had a jolly little game.
Better go home and put on your trousers, and not try to be funny for too
long together."
"Is it true," said someone else, with a significant jerk of his head in
the direction of the "Firm," "that the hares are going to make a twenty-
mile run of it, instead of twelve?"
"Of course we go through Turner's field, where the mad bulls are?" said
another.
Our heroes began to think the delay in starting was getting to be
criminal. Everyone had turned up long ago. Whatever was keeping the
hunt from beginning?
Ah! there was Cresswell calling up the hares at last. Thank goodness!
Swinstead and Birket, _par nobile fratrum_, were old stagers in the
Templeton hunts, and fellows knew, when they buckled on their scent bags
and tied their handkerchiefs round their waists, that the Harriers would
have their work cut out for them before the day was over.
"All ready?" asked the whipper-in, taking out his watch.
"All serene!"
"Off you go then!"
And off went the hares at a long easy swing, out of the fields and up on
to the breezy downs.
"Now then, Harriers, peel!" said the whipper-in, when the hares had
disappeared from view, and his watch showed seven minutes to have
elapsed.
Our heroes nervously obeyed the order, and confided their outer vesture
to Aspinall's custody.
Then steeling their ears and hearts to the final sparks of chaff which
greeted the action, they moved forward with the other hounds and waited
Cresswell's signal to go.
It seemed ages before those three minutes crawled out. But at last the
whipper-in put his watch back, and blew a blast on his bugle.
"Forward!" shouted everybody.
And the hunt was begun.