"Of course," said Riddell, as he and Wyndham strolled down by the river
that afternoon, "now that your mystery is all cleared up we are as far
off as ever finding out who really cut the rudder-lines."
"Yes. My knife is the only clue, and that proves nothing, for I was
always leaving it about, or lending it, or losing it. I don't suppose I
kept it one entire week in my pocket all the time I had it. And, for
the matter of that, it's not at all impossible I may have dropped it in
the boat-house myself some time. I often used to change my jacket
there."
Riddell had half expected Wyndham would be able to afford some clue as
to who had borrowed or taken the knife at that particular time. He was
rather relieved to find that he could not.
"Tom the boat-boy," said he, "distinctly says that the fellow who was
getting out of the window dropped the knife as he did so. Of course
that may be his fancy. Anyhow, I don't want the knife any more, so you
may as well take it."
So saying he produced the knife from his pocket, and handed it to his
companion.
"I don't want the beastly thing," cried Wyndham, taking it and pitching
it into the middle of the river. "Goodness knows it's done mischief
enough! But, I say, whoever wrote that note must have known something
about it."
"Of course," said the captain, "but he evidently intends the thing to be
found out without his help."
"Never mind," said Wyndham, cheerily, "give yourself a little rest, old
man, and come down and see the second-eleven practise. I've been too
much up a tree to turn up lately, but I mean to do so this evening. I
say, won't it be jolly if my brother can come down to umpire in the
match."
"It _will_," said Riddell, and the pair forthwith launched out into a
discussion of the virtues of Wyndham senior, in which one was scarcely
more enthusiastic than the other.
On their way back to the Big they met Parson and Telson, trotting down
to the bathing sheds.
The faces of these two young gentlemen looked considerably perplexed as
they saw the captain and his supposed victim walking arm-in-arm.
However, with the delightful simplicity of youth they thought it must be
all right somehow, and having important news of some sort to relate,
they made no scruple about intruding on the interview.
"Oh, I say, Riddell," began Telson, "we've just come from the
Parliament. No end of a row. Last time was nothing to it!"
"What happened?" asked the captain.
"Why, you know," said Parson, "it was Game and Ashley's affair summoning
this meeting. They sent round a private note or something telling the
fellows there would be a special meeting, signed by Game, First Lord of
the Admiralty, and Ashley, Home Secretary. A lot of the fellows were
taken in by it and turned up, and of course they had taken good care not
to summon anybody that was sweet on you. So it was a packed meeting.
At least they thought so. But Telson and I showed up, and the whole lot
of the Skyrockets, and gave them a lively time of it."
"You see," said Telson, eagerly taking up the narrative, "they didn't
guess we'd cut up rough, because we've been in rows of that sort once or
twice before."
Wyndham broke out laughing at this point.
"Have you, really?" he exclaimed.
"Well," continued Telson, too full of his story to heed the
interruption, "they stuck Game in the chair, and he made a frightfully
rambling speech about you and that boat-race business. He said you knew
who the chap was, and were sheltering him and all that, and that you
were as bad every bit as if you'd done it yourself, and didn't care a
hang about the honour of the school, and a whole lot of bosh of that
sort. We sung out `Oh, oh,' and `Question,' once or twice, but, you
know, we were saving ourselves up. So Ashley got up and said he was
awfully astonished to hear about it--howling cram, of course, for he
knew about it as much as any one did--and he considered it a disgrace to
the school, and the only thing to do was to kick you out, and he
proposed it."
"Then the shindy began," said Parson. "We sent young Lawkins off to
tell Crossfield what was going on, and directly Ashley sat down old
Telson got up and moved an amendment. They tried to cry him down, but
they couldn't do it, could they?"
"Rather not," said Telson, proudly. "I stuck there like a leech, and
the fellows all yelled too, so that nobody could hear any one speak. We
kept on singing out `Hole in the corner! Hole in the corner!' for about
twenty minutes, and there weren't enough of them to turn us out. Then
they tried to get round us by being civil, but we were up to that dodge.
Parson went on after me, and then old Bosher, and then King, and then
Wakefield, and when he'd done I started again."
"You should have seen how jolly wild they got!" cried Parson. "A lot of
the fellows laughed, and joined us too. Old Game and Ashley were
regularly mad! They came round and bawled in our ears that they gave us
a thousand lines each, and we'd be detained all the rest of the term.
But we didn't hear it; and when they tried to get at us we hit out with
rulers, and they couldn't do it. You never saw such a lark!"
"And presently Crossfield turned up," said Telson. "My eye! you should
have seen how yellow and green they looked when he dropped in and walked
up to his usual place! We shut up for a bit as soon as he came--and,
you know, I fancy they'd have sooner we kept it up. They were bound to
say something when the row stopped. So Game tried to rush the thing
through, and get the fellows to vote before Crossfield knew what was up.
But he wasn't to be done that way."
"`I didn't quite hear what the motion was?' says he, as solemn as a
judge.
"`Oh! it's about the honour of the school. Riddell--'
"`Excuse me, Mr Deputy-Chairman and ex-monitor,' says Crossfield, and
there was a regular laugh at that hit, because, of course, Game had no
more right in the chair, now he's not a monitor, than I had. `If it's
anything to do with the honour of the school, of course it couldn't be
in better hands than yours, who have summoned the meeting on the sly,
and taken such care to select a nice little party!'
"They tried to stop him at that.
"`You can't stop the business now. We were just going to take the vote
when you came in,' said Game.
"`Exactly!' says Crossfield, propping himself up comfortably against the
back of the form as if he was going to stay all night; `that's just why
I came, and that's just why Bloomfield, and Porter, and Coates, and
Fairbairn, and a few other gentlemen who have a sort of mild interest in
the honour of the school--although it's nothing, of course, to yours--
are coming on too. They'll be here before I've done my speech. By the
way, one of you kids,' said he, with a wink our way, `might go and fetch
Riddell; he'd like to be here too.'
"We shoved young Wakefield out of the door to make believe to go and
fetch you. But they'd had quite enough of it, and shut up the meeting
all of a sudden.
"`I adjourn the meeting!' cried Game, as red as a turkey-cock.
"`All right! that will suit me just as well,' says Crossfield, grinning.
`Is it to any particular day, or shall we get notice as before?'
"Of course they didn't stop to answer, and so we gave no end of a cheer
for old Crossfield, and then came on here."
And having delivered themselves of this full, true, and particular
account of the afternoon's adventures, these two small heroes continued
their trot down to the river to refresh their honest limbs after the
day's labours.
Their version of the proceedings was very little exaggerated, and, as
Crossfield and several others who were present each entertained his own
particular circle of friends with the same story, the whole affair
became a joke against the luckless Game and Ashley.
Even their own house did not spare them, and as for Bloomfield, he
evinced his displeasure in a way which surprised the two heroes.
"What's all this foolery you've been up to, you two?" said he, coming
into the preparation-room after tea, where most of the senior Parretts
were assembled.
It was not flattering certainly to the two in question to have their
noble protest for the honour of the school thus designated, and Game
answered, rather sheepishly, "We've been up to no foolery!"
"You may not call it foolery," said Bloomfield, who was in anything but
a good temper, "but I do! Making the whole house ridiculous! Goodness
knows there's been quite enough done in that way without wanting your
help to do more!"
"What's the use of going on like that?" said Ashley. "You don't suppose
we did it to amuse ourselves, do you?"
"If you didn't amuse yourselves you amused every one else," growled
Bloomfield. "Everybody's laughing at us."
"We felt something ought to be done about Riddell--" began Game.
"Felt! You'd no business to feel, if that's the best you can show for
it," said Bloomfield. "_You'll_ never set things right!"
"Look here," said Game, quickly, losing his temper; "you know well
enough it was meant for the best, and you needn't come and kick up a row
like this before everybody! If you don't care to have Riddell shown up,
it is no reason why we shouldn't!"
"A precious lot you've shown him up! If you'd wanted to get every one
on his side, you couldn't have done better. You don't suppose any one
would be frightened out of his skin by anything a couple of asses who'd
been kicked out of the monitorship had to say?"
Bloomfield certainly had the habit of expressing himself warmly at
times, and on the present occasion he may have done so rather more
warmly than the case deserved. But he was put out and angry at the
ridiculous performance of the Parrett's boys, in which he felt the
entire house was more or less compromised.
As to Riddell, Bloomfield still kept his own private opinion of him, but
the difference between him and his more ardent comrades was that he had
the sense to keep what he thought to himself.
At any rate, he gave deep offence now to Game and Ashley, who retired in
high dudgeon and greatly crestfallen to proclaim their wrongs to a small
and sympathetic knot of admirers.
Perhaps the most serious blow these officious young gentlemen had
received--hardly second to their snubbing by the Parretts' captain--had
been the mutiny of their own juniors, on whose cooperation they had
calculated to a dead certainty.
To find Parson, Bosher, King, and Co. standing up in defence of Riddell
against _them_ was a phenomenon so wonderful, when they came to think of
it, that they were inclined to imagine they themselves were the only
sane boys left out of a house of lunatics. And this was the only
consolation that mixed with the affair at all.
As to these juniors, they had far more to think about. In three days
the match with Welch's would be upon them, and a panic ensued on the
discovery.
They had been contemptuously confident of their superior prowess, and it
was not until one or two of them had actually been down to inspect the
play of the rival team, and Bloomfield had come down to one of their own
practices and declared publicly that they were safe to be beaten hollow,
that they regarded the coming contest seriously.
Then they went to work in grim earnest. Having broken with Game, on
whom they had usually depended for "instruction and reproof," they
boldly claimed the services of Bloomfield, and even pressed the willing
Mr Parrett into the service.
Mr Parrett pulled a very long face the first afternoon he came down to
look at them. He had been coaching the Welchers for a week or two past,
and therefore knew pretty well what their opponents ought to be. And he
was bound to admit that the young Parretts were very much below the
mark.
They had a few good men. Parson was a fair bat, and King bowled
moderately; but the "tail" of the eleven was in a shocking condition.
Everything that could be done during the next few days was done. But
cricket is not a study which can be "crammed" up, like Virgil or Euclid;
and, despite the united efforts of Bloomfield and Mr Parrett, and a few
other authorities, the team was pronounced to be a "shady" one at best
as it took its place on the field of battle.
Riddell had kept his men steadily at it to the last. With a generosity
very few appreciated, he forbore to claim Mr Parrett's assistance at
all during the last few days of practice, but he got Fairbairn and one
or two of the schoolhouse seniors instead, and with their help kept up
the courage and hopes of the young Welchers, wisely taking care,
however, by a little occasional judicious snubbing, to prevent them from
becoming too cocky or sure of the result.
It was quite an event to see the Welchers' flag hoisted once more on the
cricket-ground. Indeed, it was such an event that the doctor himself
came down to watch the play, while the muster of schoolboys was almost
as large as at a senior house match.
Among all the spectators, none were more interested in the event than
the seniors, who had taken upon themselves the responsibility of
"coaching" their respective teams.
Riddell was quite excited and nervous as he watched his men go out to
field, while Bloomfield, though he would have been the last to own it,
felt decidedly fidgety for the fate of his young champions.
However, Parretts, who went in first, began better than any one
expected. Parson and King went boldly--not to say rashly--to work from
the outset, and knocked the bowling about considerably before a lucky
ball from Philpot got round the bat of the former and demolished his
wicket.
Wakefield followed, and he too managed to put a few runs together; but
as soon as his wicket fell a dismal quarter of an hour followed for the
Parretts. Boy after boy, in all the finery of spotless flannel and pads
and gloves, swaggered up to the wicket, and, after taking "middle" in
magnificent style, and giving a lordly glance round the field, as though
to select the best point for placing their strokes, lifted their bats
miserably at the first ball that came, and had no chance of lifting it
at another.
It was a melancholy spectacle, and far more calculated to excite pity
than amusement. Bloomfield chafed and growled for some time, and then,
unable to stand it any longer, went off in disgust, leaving the young
reprobates to their fate.
Scarcely less remarkable than the collapse of Parrett's was the
steadiness of Welch's in the field. Although they had little to do,
they did what there was to do neatly and well, and, unlike many junior
elevens, did it quietly. The junior matches at Willoughby had usually
been more famous for noise than cricket, but on this occasion the order
of things was reversed, and Riddell, as he looked on and heard the
compliments from all quarters bestowed on his young heroes, might be
excused if he felt rewarded for all the labour and patience of the past
month.
It offended him not at all to hear this good result attributed generally
to Mr Parrett's instructions. He knew it was true. Mr Parrett
himself took care to disclaim any but a small amount of merit in the
matter.
"It's a wonder to me," said he to Fairbairn, in the hearing of a good
many seniors, who were wont to treat anything he had to say on athletic
matters as authoritative--"it's a wonder to me how Riddell, who is only
a moderate player himself, has turned out such a first-rate eleven.
He's about the best cricket coach we have had, and I have seen several
in my time. He has worked on their enthusiasm without stint, and next
best to that, he has not so much hammered into them what they ought to
do, as he has hammered out of them what they ought not to do. Three
fellows out of five never think of that."
"I'm sure they don't," said Fairbairn.
"See how steady they were all the innings, too!" continued Mr Parrett.
"Three coaches out of five wouldn't lay that down as the first rule of
cricket; but it is, especially with youngsters. Be steady first, and be
expert next. That's the right order, and Riddell has discovered it. I
would even back a steady eleven of moderate players against a rickety
eleven of good ones. In fact, a boy can't be a cricketer at all, or
anything else, unless he's steady. Now, you see, unless I am mistaken,
they will give quite as good an account of themselves at the wickets as
they did on the field."
And off strolled the honest Mr Parrett, bat in hand, to umpire, leaving
his hearers not a little impressed with the force of his views on the
first principles of cricket.
The master's prophecy was correct. The Welchers, notwithstanding the
fact that they had only twenty-five runs to get to equal their rivals'
first innings, played a steady and careful innings, in which they just
trebled the Parretts' score. The bowling against them was not strong
certainly, but they took no liberties with it. Indeed, both the captain
and Mr Parrett had so ruthlessly denounced and snubbed anything like
"fancy hitting," that their batting was inclined to err on the side of
the over-cautious, and more runs might doubtless have been made by a
little freer swing of the bats. However, the authorities were well
satisfied. Cusack carried his bat for eighteen, much to his own
gratification; and of his companions, Pilbury, Philpot, and Walker each
made double figures.
It required all Riddell's authority, in the face of this splendid
achievement, to keep his men from jeopardising their second innings in
the field by yielding prematurely to elation.
"For goodness' sake don't hulloa till you're out of the wood!" he said;
"they may catch up on you yet. Seventy-five isn't such a big score
after all. If you don't look out you'll muddle your chance away, and
then how small you'll look!"
With such advice to hold them in check, they went out as soberly as
before to field, and devoted their whole energies to the task of
disposing of their enemies' wickets for the fewest possible runs.
And they succeeded quite as well as before. Indeed, the second innings
of the Parretts was a feeble imitation of their first melancholy
performance. Parson, King, and Wakefield were the only three who made
any stand, and even they fared worse than before. All the side could
put together was twenty-one runs, and about this, even, they had great
trouble.
When it became known that the Welchers had won the match by an innings
and twenty-nine runs, great was the amazement of all Willoughby, and
greater still was the mortification of the unlucky Parretts. No more
was said about the grand concert in which they intended to celebrate
their triumph. They evidently felt they had not much to be proud of,
and, consequently, avoiding a public entry into their house, they slunk
in quietly, and, shutting out the distant sounds of revelry and
rejoicing in the victorious house, mingled their tears over a
sympathetic pot of tea, to which even Telson was not invited.