Saint Kirwin's was jubilant, and the reason for its jubilation lay in
the fact that it had just obtained an unexpected and unlooked-for whole
holiday, and that thanks to the request of a now famous
explorer-naturalist, who had been invited to revisit his old school and
to deliver a lecture in a scientific interest. So interesting and
withal instructive, indeed, had he rendered this, that while cordially
thanking him in the name of the whole school, the headmaster--not our
old friend and sometime terror, Dr Bowen, otherwise Nick--had made him
promise to continue it the following week. This he had agreed to do,
but only to ask a favour in his turn, and that was to grant the school a
whole holiday on the following day--and to an old Kirwinian who had
greatly distinguished himself the headmaster had felt that much was due.
So Haviland went to bed that night the most popular person within those
classic walls; and until late, in more than one dormitory, traditions of
his doughty deeds of a dozen years ago were repeated, and those in his
whilom dormitory felt themselves of immeasurable importance by virtue of
that purely fortuitous circumstance.
The while, in Mr Sefton's snug rooms Haviland and the master were
forgathering.
"Light your pipe, Haviland," said the latter. "A wanderer like you
can't do without it, I expect. Well! well! I'm very glad to see you
again, very. And you've done credit to the old place, too."
"Oh, as to that, sir, I have only my good fortune to thank in having
been able to take my own line. Round peg in a round hole, you know."
Mr Sefton looked at the tall form and bronzed face of the young
explorer with unmeasured approval. He himself had hardly changed at
all--turning a little grey, perhaps, that was all.
"I say, sir, what were they about that they didn't make you head when
the Doctor left?" broke forth Haviland.
"Ha! That isn't a sore point with me. I'm second now, and that's good
enough to go on with." Then, leaning forward in his quaint way--"Other
man--interest by marriage--see?" with a chuckle. "I say, though," he
went on, "fancy them making Nick a bishop, eh?"
"Yes, I'm glad he's got a good thing, though," said Haviland. "He had a
`down' on me, but he was so awfully good to me afterwards that it didn't
count."
"I know he had, and I don't mind telling you now that I thought so at
the time, and, still more surprising, he came to recognise it himself.
It's the only time I've ever known Nick concede anything. You ought to
go and see him one of these days. He'd be delighted."
"I should like to. But, I say, Mr Sefton, I should burst out laughing
in his face, because I should always be thinking of the day I marched up
solemnly behind him in chapel."
"We've often shouted over that. Williams never could forget it. By the
way, Williams has taken orders now. Fancy, Williams a parson. He's
gone in for a parish and matrimony. He'd like to see you too. Who's
that?" he broke off. "Come in, can't you! Oh, it's you, Clay? Here.
Sit down."
"I thought I'd find Haviland here," said the other master, who though of
peppery habit in school could be genial enough outside.
And then they got on to all sorts of old reminiscences, of which the
episode of the ghost in Hangman's Wood was the one which caused the two
masters to laugh until their sides ached.
"Fancy Cetchy turning out a king!" said Mr Clay, at last. "We ought to
have a sort of Zulu royal arms stuck up over the gate here."
"Tell him about how nearly Cetchy came to having your head chopped off,
Haviland," said Mr Sefton.
"He'd have done it, too, and worse, if I hadn't been who I am. No,
really, that was the most extraordinary thing that could have happened.
We had given ourselves up, entirely, Oakley and I."
"I should think so," rapped out Mr Sefton. "They didn't call Cetchy
`Haviland's Chum' here to no purpose. Eh?"
"Well, you've had some rum experiences since you left us, Haviland,"
said Clay. "And here I and Sefton have been planted, grinding the mill,
year in year out--same old grind--all that time. What d'you suppose
will be the end of a fellow like Cetchy?"
"A violent one any way. There are only two ends possible to a savage in
his position--to be killed in battle or by a conspiracy of his own
people. He is a thorough savage, and the people he has to rule--the
Inswani--struck me as about as turbulent, ferocious, and bloodthirsty a
crowd as this world can produce. There's the whole situation, and it's
simple. Funny I should have tumbled in with Oakley, isn't it? Nick's
nephew."
Thus they yarned on, and at last Clay took his departure, for it was
late.
"Well now, Haviland," said Mr Sefton, the last thing. "What are your
plans for the future? Going to start off again or settle down? But I
suppose you're too confirmed a wanderer for that."
Haviland smiled.
"I shouldn't be surprised, sir."
Reader, no more should we.