"Hack it through, there!"
"Down with the Radicals!"
"Pony for ever!" mingled with yells and cheers and coarser shouts of
"Down with the schoolboys!" indicated clearly enough that a lively
battle was in progress, and that Willoughby was fighting its way home.
The whole town seemed to be coming at their heels, and more than once a
pitched battle had to be decided before any progress could be made. But
slowly and surely the discipline of the schoolboys, animated by the
familiar words of command of the football-field, asserted itself above
the ill-conditioned force of their assailants, and at every forward step
the triumphant shout of "Pony for ever!" rose with a mighty cheer, which
deafened all opposition cries.
In due time the playground gate was reached, amid tremendous cheering,
and next moment, driving before them some of their demoralised
opponents, the vanguard of the school burst in.
Even Riddell and Fairbairn, as they looked down on the scene, could
hardly forbear a little natural pride on witnessing this triumphant
charge home of their truant schoolfellows.
That the battle had been sore and desperate was evident by the limping
gait, the torn clothes, and the damaged faces of some of the combatants
as they swarmed in in an irresistible tide, amid the applause of their
comrades and the howls of the baffled enemy, who raged vainly without
like so many wild beasts robbed of their prey.
Among the last to fight their way in were Game, Ashley, Tipper, and a
few other seniors, who, truants as they were, had yet, to their credit,
assumed the place of danger in the rear, where the crowd pressed
thickest and with most violence. A sorry spectacle were some of these
heroes when finally they plunged into the playground and then turned at
bay at the gate.
"All in!" shouted a voice, and immediately a rush was made to close the
gates and prevent further entrance, when a loud cry of "Hold on,
Willoughby! Rescue here!" held them back.
Riddell started at the sound, and next moment had vaulted from the low
window to the ground, closely followed by Fairbairn.
"Rescue! rescue! Man down!" cried the school within.
"Keep them in!--shut them in!" cried the roughs without.
"It's young Wyndham!" said Riddell, rushing wildly to the front; "he'll
be murdered!"
"Scrag him!--scrag the schoolboy!" yelled the roughs, making a rush in
the direction of the cries.
Not a moment was to be lost; in another minute it might be too late to
do any good, and, with a tremendous shout of "Rescue, Willoughby!" the
school turned as wildly to get out of the playground as it had just now
struggled to get in.
The captain and Fairbairn were the first to get through the gate,
followed closely by the other seniors. Riddell was conscious of seeing
young Wyndham lying a few yards off among the feet of the roughs, and of
being himself carried forward to within reach of him; then of a blow
from behind, which sent him forward, half-stunned, right on to the top
of his young friend.
After that Riddell was only dimly conscious of what passed, and it was
not until he found himself once more in the playground, being helped
along by Fairbairn towards the house, that he took in the fact that the
rescue had been accomplished, and that the battle was at an end.
"Did they get Wyndham in all right?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Was he much damaged?"
"Very little. You got it worse than he did."
"Some fellow got behind me and sent me over," said Riddell.
"Some fellow did," said Fairbairn, fiercely, "and I know who."
"Who?"
"Silk."
"What! are you sure?"
"I was as close to you at the time as I am now--I'm quite sure."
"The coward! Did any one else see it?"
"No, I think not."
The two walked on in silence to Welch's house, and once more reached the
study they had so abruptly quitted.
"Are you badly hurt?" asked Fairbairn.
"Not a bit; my shin is a little barked, that's all."
"What a bulldog you can be when you like, old man," said Fairbairn,
laughing. "I never saw any one go into battle so gamely. Why, the
whole glory of the rescue belongs to you."
"What bosh! You had to rescue me as well as Wyndham. But I'm thankful
he's safe."
"You're awfully sweet about that precious youngster," said Fairbairn.
"I hope he'll be grateful to you, that's all."
Riddell said nothing, and shortly afterwards Fairbairn said he must go.
As he was leaving Riddell called him back.
"I say, Fairbairn," said he, in his half-nervous way, "you needn't say
anything about Silk, there's a good fellow; it wouldn't do any good."
"He deserves a good thrashing," said Fairbairn, wrathfully.
"Never mind; don't say anything about it, please."
And Fairbairn promised and went.
It was quite a novel sensation for the captain to find himself figuring
in the eyes of Willoughby as a "bulldog." He knew he was about the last
person to deserve the proud title, and yet such are the freaks of
fortune, the exaggerated stories of the rescue, differing as they did in
nearly every other particular, agreed in this, that he had performed
prodigies of valour in the engagement, and had, in fact, rescued Wyndham
single-handed.
More than one fellow dropped in during the evening to inquire how he
was, and to confirm his new reputation.
Pilbury and Cusack were among the first.
"Is it true your leg's broken?" cried the latter, as he entered the
study, in tones of unfeigned concern.
"No, of course not," replied the captain, laughing. "What made you
think so?"
"The fellows said so. Pil and I were too far behind to back you up, you
know, or we would have, wouldn't we, Pil?"
"Rather," replied Pil.
"Why," said the captain, catching sight of the bruised and ragged
condition of these young men of war--"why, you've been knocked about a
great deal more than I have."
"Oh," said Cusack, "that was in the run up from Shellport, you know. We
did get it a little hot at first until we pulled together and came up in
a body."
"Never mind," said Pilbury, "it was a jolly fine show-up for Pony. He's
sure to get in; the Radicals were nowhere."
"And what are you going to say to the doctor in the morning?" asked
Riddell.
"Eh? oh, I suppose we shall catch it. Never mind, there'll be lots to
keep us company. And we've given Pony a stunning leg-up."
And so the two heroes, highly delighted with themselves, and still far
too excited to feel ashamed of their mutinous conduct, departed to talk
over the day's doings with the rest of their set, and rejoice in the
glorious "leg-up" they had given to the Whig candidate.
Other fellows looked in, and bit by bit Riddell picked up the whole
history of that eventful afternoon.
It did not appear whether the wholesale breaking of bounds had been a
preconcerted act or a spontaneous and infectious impulse on the part of
the whole school. Whichever it was, directly dinner was over and the
monitors had retired to their houses, a general stampede had been made
for Shellport, and almost before many of the truants knew where they
were they were in the thick of the election crowd.
At first each set vented its loyalty in its own peculiar way. Some
stood in the streets and cheered everything yellow they could discover;
others crowded round the polling places and groaned the Radicals; some
went off to look for the candidates themselves, and when at last Sir
George Pony appeared on the scene in his carriage his enthusiastic young
supporters set up a cheer enough to frighten the good old gentleman out
of his wits, and, but for the active interference of the police, would
have insisted on taking out the horses and dragging the triumphal car
themselves round the town.
For a considerable time these juvenile demonstrations were allowed to
pass with good-humoured forbearance by the town; but when presently,
emboldened by their immunity, the schoolboys proceeded not only to hoot
but occasionally to molest the opposite side, the young Shellporters
began to resent the invasion. A few scuffles ensued, and the temper of
both parties rose. The schoolboys waxed more and more outrageous, and
the town boys more and more indignant, so that just about the time when
the poll was closing, and when call-over was being sounded up at the
school, a free fight had begun in the streets of Shellport.
At the first alarm the school had rallied from all sides, and
concentrated its forces on the enemy, who seemed determined to dispute
every inch of the ground between the town and the school.
How that battle ended, and how finally the schoolboys got home, we have
already seen.
Riddell did not feel it his duty under present circumstances to read his
visitors a lecture on the wickedness of breaking bounds. He said it was
a wonder they had all got up as safely as they had, and that no more
damage had been done. As to the penalties, he advised them to turn up
at call-over in the morning and hear all about that from the doctor.
Early next morning, just as Riddell was dressed, there was a knock at
his door, and young Wyndham entered.
He looked dejected and uncomfortable, but otherwise appeared to have
recovered from the effects of yesterday's ill-usage.
"I say," said he, going up to the captain and holding out his hand, "I'm
awfully sorry I was such a cad to you yesterday."
"Not a bit, old fellow," said Riddell, seizing his hand, and glowing
with pleasure at this unexpected visit. "Everybody was a bit riled, and
no wonder."
"But I've no excuse, I know, after all your brickishness to me, and now,
after your helping me out as you did in the scrimmage yesterday, I'm
awfully ashamed of being such a low cad."
This was evidently no put-on apology for the occasion, and Wyndham, as
he spoke, looked as penitent as his words.
"Oh, nonsense!" said Riddell, who could never stand being apologised to,
and always felt more uncomfortable at such times than the apologiser.
"But I say, were you much hurt?"
"No, not much. I got down among their feet somehow and couldn't get up.
But if you hadn't turned up when you did I might have got it hot."
"It was Fairbairn pulled us both out, I think," said Riddell, "for I was
down too."
"Yes, I hear you got an awful hack."
"Nothing much at all."
"I say, Riddell," said Wyndham, nervously, after a pause, "I mean to
break with Silk; I wish I'd never taken up with him. I shouldn't have
gone down to the town at all yesterday if it hadn't been for him."
"I think you'd be ever so much better without him," said Riddell.
"I know I would. Do you recollect lecturing me about sticking up for
myself that night last month? I've been uncomfortable about chumming
with him ever since, but somehow he seemed to have a pull on me."
"What sort of pull?"
"Oh," said the boy, becoming still more uncomfortable, and afraid of
breaking his promise to say nothing about Beamish's, "a good many things
of one sort or another. I've gone wrong, I know."
Wyndham would have given much to be free to make a full confession of
all his "going wrong" to the sympathetic Riddell, but, heartily weary as
he was of Silk and Gilks, he had promised them to keep their secrets,
and young Wyndham, whatever his faults, was honest.
Riddell was quick enough to see that there was something of the sort,
and did not press to know more. It was too good news to hear from the
boy's own lips that he was determined to break loose from these bad
friends, to need to know any more.
"I don't know how it is," said Wyndham, after another pause. "It seems
so much easier for some fellows to keep square than for others. I've
made up my mind I'd do right a dozen times this term, but it's never
come off."
"It's hard work, I know," said Riddell, sympathisingly.
"Yet it seems easy enough to you. I say, I wish you'd look sharp after
me for a week or so, Riddell, till I get a good start."
Riddell laughed.
"A lot of good that would do you! The best person to look sharp after
young Wyndham is young Wyndham himself."
"Of course I know," said the boy, "but I've sort of lost confidence in
myself."
"We can't any of us stand by ourselves," said the captain. "I know I
can't. But the help is easy to get, isn't it?"
I need not repeat all the talk that took place that morning between the
two boys. What they said was meant for no ears but their own. How one
in his quiet manly way tried to help the younger boy, and how the other
with all sorts of fears and hopes listened and took courage, was known
only to the two friends themselves, and to One other from Whom no
secrets--not even the secrets of a schoolboy--are hid.
The bell for call-over put an end to their talk, and with lighter hearts
than most in Willoughby they walked across to the Great Hall and heard
the doctor's sentence on the truants of yesterday.
It was not very formidable. No half-holiday next Wednesday, and for the
seniors a hundred lines of Greek to write out; for the Limpets a hundred
lines of Latin, and for the juniors fifty lines of Latin. The doctor
had evidently taken a lenient view of the case, regarding the escapade
more as a case of temporary insanity than of determined disobedience.
However, he relieved his mind by a good round lecture, to which the
school listened most resignedly.
There was, however, one part of the punishment which fell heavily on a
few of those present. Among the truants had been no less than five
monitors--Game, Tipper, Ashley, Silk, and Tucker.
"It would be a farce," said the doctor, severely, "after what has
happened, to allow you to retain the posts of confidence you have held
in the school. Your blame is all the greater in proportion as your
influence was greater too. For the remainder of this term you cease to
be monitors. It depends entirely on yourselves whether next term you
are reinstated."