"I say, you fellows, there's no end of a row on," pronounced Wood major,
joining a group of others.
"No! Is there? What about? Who's in it?" were the eager inquiries
which hailed the good news. For a row at Saint Kirwin's was, in its
generation, akin to the Coliseum sports in theirs, inasmuch as it
afforded pleasurable excitement to the multitude. To the small minority
directly implicated it afforded excitement too, but the reverse of
pleasurable. This particular group, however, being presumably clear of
conscience, hailed the news with unfeigned satisfaction.
"Why, the small room at the end of Williams's dormitory are all in it, I
believe," explained Wood major. "Cetchy's been caught getting out late
at night."
"What, Cetchy? Haviland's chum?"
"Rather. We're going to see something, I can tell you."
"Then Haviland's in it too," said some one else.
"I expect so. I believe the whole room's in it."
"A case of Cetchy caught," remarked a puffy-faced fellow who set up for
being a wag.
"Oh, shut up, Cross. We don't want Clay's second-hand wheezes," was all
the appreciation he met with. "Why we've yelped at that in all its
variations till I believe we'd sooner do his impos. than get off it by
putting him in a good humour over that `honk' any more. Go on, Wood.
What have you heard about it?"
"Why, Smithson minor told me. He's rather a chum of Cetchy's, you know.
The first he knew of it was seeing Cetchy come out of Nick's study
looking precious puffy about the chops. Nick had been socking him all
over the shop, he told Smithson; and then Nick came out himself, and
maybe Smithson didn't slink off. Oh, no."
"Well, we shan't hear anything about it till to-morrow morning," said
Cross. "Sure to come on at morning prep. Great Scott, but there'll be
some swishing on!"
"Haviland won't take it, I expect."
"He'll be jolly well expelled then."
"He won't care. I know he won't take a swishing. I hated him when he
was a prefect, but now I hope he'll score off Nick."
"P'raps he's not in it."
"Not in it? Why, the whole room's in it."
And so the discussion ran on; the while, however, the news had somehow
leaked out, and the presage of a row--and a very big row at that--hung
over the school like a thundercloud.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It will be necessary to go back.
For a day or two after the exploit chronicled in the last chapter our
two midnight marauders plumed themselves on their feat of arms, and
delighted to meet and fight their battle over again in a secluded corner
of the playing fields, the only thorn in the rose being that they had
lost the air-gun, abandoned during the precipitancy of their flight,
and, of course, the pheasant. This, however, they decided was of small
account compared with such a glorious experience as had been theirs, and
they positively glowed over the recollection of their adventure. But
they were a little premature in their elation. Retribution was at hand,
and this is how the bolt fell.
To a group of boys strolling along a field-path not far from the school
it was not strange that they should meet a keeper. What was strange to
them was the gun in the hand of that worthy.
"That's a rum sort of gun you've got there," said one of them. "I say,
let's have a look at it."
The keeper merely shook his head. Then an idea seemed to strike him,
and he stopped.
"Yes, it be a rum gun, bean't it, young genelmen?" he said, extending it
to them, but not loosing his hold of it. "That be one o' they
new-fangled air-guns. They don't make no bang when they goes off."
The group gathered round interested. The keeper explained the working
of the weapon, and from that got to talking on other matters--in fact,
was extraordinarily chatty and affable, which was remarkable, because
between gamekeepers and the Saint Kirwin's boys a state of natural
hostility existed.
"I've heard tell," he went on at last, "that there's a black African
young genelman up at the school there. If that's so, I'd like to make
so bold as to see he. I 'ad a brother servin' in the wars again they
Africans over yonder, and 'e told me a lot about 'em. Yes, I'd like to
see he."
Now, under ordinary circumstances, this request would have caused them,
in their own phraseology, to "smell a rat." Perhaps in this case it had
that effect all the same; but then, as ill-luck would have it, the group
the keeper had struck in this instance happened to be Jarnley and his
gang. Here was a chance to pay off old scores. Here was a noble
opportunity for revenge, and it would in all probability comprehend
Haviland too. Jarnley, Perkins, and Co. were simply jubilant.
"There's no difficulty about that, keeper," said the former, genially.
"You go to the gate of the west field and ask any fellow to point you
out Cetchy. I expect he'll be there now. Cetchy--mind, that's the
name."
"I'll remember, sir, and thankee kindly. Mornin', young genelmen."
Three-quarters of an hour later our friend Anthony, having, in obedience
to an urgent summons, hastened, though not without misgivings, to
present himself in the Doctor's study, found himself confronted by a
tall red-whiskered keeper, while on the table, exposed on a sheet of
newspaper, lay his lost air-gun and the corpse of a fine cock-pheasant.
Then he knew that the game was up.
"Yes, sir. That be he, right enough," said the keeper. "I saw him
several times as I was a chevyin' of him. There was a good moon, and
I'd swear to him anywhere, sir. There was another with him, sir, a tall
young chap, but I never got a chance of seeing his face. But this one,
I can swear to he."
"Very well," said the Doctor. "You had better go down to the porter's
lodge, and wait there in case I should require to see you again."
The keeper saluted and retired.
"And now," went on the Doctor, in his most awe-inspiring tone, "what
have you got to say? On the night of Tuesday, you and another--with
whom I shall presently deal--were found by the man who has just gone out
in one of Lord Hebron's coverts. That pheasant lying there was killed
by you with that air-gun. Now, who was with you?"
"I don't know nothin' about it, sir."
"What?" thundered the Doctor, rising from his seat; and the next moment
Anthony received a terrific box on the ear which sent him staggering
against the table, followed up by another on the other side, the force
of which wellnigh restored him to his original equilibrium. "So you
would add lying to your other misconduct, would you? Now, answer my
question. Who was with you?"
But the question was addressed seemingly to empty air. The Zulu boy,
thinking to detect another hostile move, had incontinently dived under
the table.
Here was a situation wholly outside the Doctor's experience. He was a
violent-tempered man when roused, especially when his dignity had
sustained, as he thought, any slight, but he had too much sense of that
dignity to embark actively in the chase of a boy who had got under the
table of his own study. Not for a moment, however, was he nonplussed.
"Come out and stand where you were before," he said, "and that at once,
or I shall send for two prefects to drag you out, and shall cane you now
as I have never caned a boy before, and that in addition to whatever
punishment I shall decide to inflict upon you for your other offence.
Do you hear?"
Anthony did hear, and being, like most of his race, of a practical turn
of mind, had rapidly decided that it was better to be thrashed once than
twice; wherefore he emerged from under the table, and stood upright as
before, but with a quick and watchful eye, ready to dodge any further
hostile move on the part of the Doctor.
The latter, for his part, had had time to think; and in the result it
occurred to him that it was scarcely fair to judge this raw young
savage, for he was hardly more, with the same severity as the ordinary
boy. So he would refrain from further violent measures for the present.
"Who was with you?" he repeated remorselessly, and in a tone which in
all his experience he had never known any boy able to hold out against.
But he reckoned without the staunch, inherent Zulu loyalty.
For now Anthony shifted his ground. No power on earth would have
induced him to give his accomplice away--they might flog him to death
first. But by confessing his own criminality he might save Haviland.
"No one with me, sir. I all alone," he answered volubly. "That man
tell big lie. Or praps he seen a ghost. Ha!"
The Doctor looked at him with compressed lips. Then he rang the bell,
and in the result, within a minute or two, the keeper re-appeared.
"Now Anthony," said the Doctor, "repeat to this man what you have just
told me." Anthony did.
"Why you tell one big lie? Ha! You saw me, yes, yes. No one with me.
I alone. How you see other when other not there?"
"Come. That's a good 'un," said the man, half amused, half angry. "Why
I see he as plain as I see you."
"See he? Ha! You see a ghost, praps? You ever see a ghost in
Hangman's Wood, hey?" and rolling his eyes so that they seemed to
protrude from his head, and lolling his tongue out, the Zulu boy stared
into the face of the dazed keeper, uttering the while the same cavernous
groan, which had sent that worthy fleeing from the haunted wood as
though the demon were at his heels.
"Good Lord!" was all the keeper could ejaculate, staring with mouth and
eyes wide open. Then, realising what a fool they had made of him, he
grew furious.
"You see ghost, yes? Praps Hangman's ghost, hey?" jeered the boy.
"You young rascal, you!" cried the infuriated keeper. "This ain't the
first time by a long chalk you've been in my coverts, you and the other
young scamp. There was another, sir," turning to the Doctor, "I'll take
my dying oath on it--and I hopes you'll flog 'em well, sir--and if ever
I catches 'em there again I'll have first in at 'em, that I will."
"You bring another big dog. I kill him too," jeered the descendant of
savage warriors, now clean forgetful of the dread presence of the
headmaster, and the condign punishment hanging over himself. "Kill you,
praps, _Hau_!" he added with a hideous curl of the lips, which exhibited
his splendid white teeth.
"See that, Doctor, sir?" cried the exasperated man. "The owdacious,
abandoned young blackamoor! But his lordship'll want that dawg paid
for, or he'll know the reason why. And 'e's a dawg that's taken
prizes."
Now Dr Bowen, for all his unbending severity, was a thorough
Englishman, and, as such, an admirer of pluck and grit. Here these two
boys had been attacked by a brute every whit as savage and formidable as
a wolf, and that under circumstances and amid surroundings which, acting
on the imagination, should render the affair more terror-striking--viz.,
at midnight, and in the heart of a wood; yet they had faced and fought
the monster, hand to hand, and with very inadequate means of defence,
and had overcome and slain it. In his heart of hearts the feat
commanded his admiration, and moreover, he was devoutly thankful they
had not sustained serious injuries, for the sake of his own
responsibilities and the credit of the school. Yet none of these
considerations would be suffered in any way to mitigate the penalties
due to their very serious offence. He had further been secretly amused
at the scene between Anthony and the keeper, though outwardly the
grimness of his expression showed no trace of any relaxation.
"That will be a matter for future discussion," he replied to the keeper.
"Now I shall not require your further attendance. I have sufficient to
go upon to put my hand on all concerned, and you can rest assured that
they will be most severely punished."
"I hopes you'll flog 'em well, Doctor, sir," was the keeper's parting
shot, "and especially that there young blackamoor rascal. Good-day,
sir."