THE BANNER-BEARER IN TROUBLE.
Shall Jesus bear the cross alone,
And all the world go free?
No! There's a cross for every one,
And there's a cross for me.
ERE Ronald again entered the study, another boy had been there, one who
went of his own accord. A rumour had arisen in the school-room that
Ronald Macintosh was the boy accused of having been seen fishing in the
river, and of having denied the fact. True, the report was not believed
by all; but, at the first flash of it, Sir James Dudley had left the
school-room, and sought the much-dreaded study of the headmaster. He
entered the room, however, unabashed, his head erect, the brown eyes
sparkling with indignation.
"Dr. Bowles," he said, "I have come to tell you that you are wrong.
Ronald Macintosh never broke a rule of yours; and he never, no never,
told a lie. I don't know who did; but I do know he did not. Why, I
believe he'd sooner die than say what was not true. You don't know,
sir, how good and kind he is, nor all he has done for us little
fellows; and—and he loves God, sir, just as my own mother does, and has
been trying all he can to make me a true Christian boy also; and I will
say, sir, you are wrong in thinking it was him, even if you beat me for
saying so."
The brave little heart was giving way when the doctor spoke. "No,
Dudley, I will certainly never beat any boy for defending a friend in
whom he believes. It grieves me, as much as it does you, to think evil
of Ronald. It grieves me more, far more than a little boy like you can
understand, for I also thought highly of him; but this much I will tell
you, the proof of his guilt cannot be put aside: his fishing rod was
found, at least a part of it with his name on it, close by the spot
where Mr. Lawson's man saw the boy fishing, and found a trout left
behind when the fisher saw him coming and took flight. Had the evidence
not been so strong, I would have refused to believe it could have been
Ronald Macintosh."
The brown eyes fell, but only for one moment. Again they were raised
with a look full of confidence to the master's face.
"But, Dr. Bowles, I saw Ronald when he left the play-ground, and he had
no fishing rod in his hand; and he was only an hour away, and he could
not have had time to be down by the river and catch a trout there, and
be back so soon. No, sir, depend on it, Ronald is not the boy who broke
the rule of the school."
Dr. Bowles smiled. "Well, Dudley," he said, "he has at least a brave
defender in you, and rest assured I will sift the matter fully, ere the
sentence of punishment is pronounced. As to the fact of his having no
fishing rod in his hand when he left the school, that carries little
weight with it; for I believe he had an accomplice, who probably was
out of the bounds ere Ronald left, and who, no doubt, had the rod in
his possession. The man declares he saw two boys run away; although he
believes only one, and that the biggest of the two, was fishing. It's a
sad story altogether. Now go, Dudley, and leave me."
Just then the door opened, and Macintosh entered; and little Dudley, at
a sign from the master, left them alone. The anger had passed from the
lad's spirit, and he was calm now, as he asked Dr. Bowles to forgive
him for the hasty words he had spoken, and for any disrespect he had
shown to him. The pardon was granted, as far as that offence went; but
the tone in which it was accorded was cold and hard.
"And now, sir," said the master after a pause, "I repeat the accusation
already made, of the truth of which I believe I hold the evidence
beside me, that you broke the law of the school on Saturday last by
fishing in the river for trout, knowing that a severe penalty would be
inflicted on any boy so doing; and more, that after having done so, you
kept a cowardly silence, when the request was made that the boy or boys
(for it is believed you had an accomplice) should stand up and confess
the deed. And, still further, to the sin of disobedience you added the
greater one of falsehood, by solemnly denying the committal of the deed
when the question was separately put to you. Now, sir, what have you to
answer to these accusations?"
Ronald's face was crimson with indignation; but he controlled himself
to speak calmly.
"I have only one answer to give, and that, as in God's presence, I do
give. Dr. Bowles, I am not guilty of any one of the things you bring
against me, on what evidence I know not. I never was even near the
river on Saturday. I was only one hour out of the school bounds, and
then I went in a different direction. So, in the denying it, I was
neither a coward nor a liar."
The last word was uttered with difficulty. Dr. Bowles looked steadily
at the bold, fearless eyes that met his own. Could they, he was asking
himself, belong to one who was acting the part of a hypocrite? And
for the first time he was staggered in his belief. Still, what of the
fishing rod? Without a word, he produced it.
An unmistakable look of surprise and pain crossed the boy's face as he
said, "That is my fishing rod, sir. Did you take it from the shelf in
our room?"
"No, Ronald Macintosh," was the stern reply; "it was found by the
river-side, dropped by the boy who was fishing there. Your name is on
it; and, despite the pain it causes me to say it, I can have no more
conclusive evidence that you are the guilty one. Besides, I remember,
only too plainly, your refusal to go to London with Mrs. Bowles and me,
after you had expressed a strong wish to do so only the night before.
Even then your manner struck me as strange; now it is easily accounted
for. O Ronald, Ronald! I am sorely disappointed in you," and as he
spoke, he leant his head on his hands in sore distress of spirit.
The amount of apparent evidence against him fairly overcame Ronald, as
well as his master's grief; but he spoke out. "Dr. Bowles, listen to
me one moment, ere you condemn me thus. I see plainly what cause you
have to do so. I know not who is guilty in this matter, but I am not. I
never took that rod from the place I put it in when I first came here;
who took it, I cannot say. I am almost certain it was in its place when
I left the house. I did not accompany you to London, much as I wished
to do so, because I thought my duty was to remain here."
At these words the master raised his head. "Your duty?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where, then, did you go during the hour that you confess to being
absent from bounds?"
"Do you know a solitary cottage, sir, that stands on the part of Mr.
Lawson's grounds the farthest off from the village?"
Dr. Bowles nodded assent.
"Well, sir, I went there, intending to read God's Word to a poor woman
who is bedridden, to whom I have read before. I had heard she was
sorely disappointed at my having missed the previous Saturday, and that
was the reason of my refusal to accompany you. I see now I should have
told you all; but I feared you might think it was ostentatious of me to
do so."
Dr. Bowles's eyes brightened. "You have proof then, that the hour you
were out of the play-ground you spent in reading God's Word to a poor
woman?"
"I have no proof, sir, if my own word is to be doubted, for I found the
cottage door locked, and so had to return home. You know, sir, that
cottage is nearly half an hour's walk from here, and as I was back in
an hour I could not have had time to read to old Susan."
"Well, but did no one see you at the cottage? Because, if there be
evidence that you were seen there, it would be conclusive you were not
at the river, as from the points of distance you could not have been
both at the cottage and at the river."
"No, sir, I saw no one; though I looked in all directions for little
Tommy Fegan, Susan's grandson, who lives with her, I did not see him."
Dr. Bowles's brow darkened. It was strange, he said to himself, that no
evidence of the truth of the boy's assertions could be found, whilst
the overwhelming evidence of his guilt had been produced. There was but
one course open to him, and that was to wait a few days ere pronouncing
sentence on the boy and writing a full account of the transaction to
Mr. Macleod.
In the meantime, Ronald, except in school hours, was to be separated
from the other boys, and the master would make every effort to discover
the real truth of the matter. The belief in Ronald's guilt, which
had at first possessed him, was shaken; not only by little Dudley's
testimony, but by the lad's clear, steady eye, and the truthful
character he had hitherto borne. And not altogether in vain had
Ronald's steady uplifting of the royal banner proved.
In the school-room, with the exception of two or three, there was
but one opinion held on the subject, and that was, that Ronald was
innocent; but how the boy suffered during these days none knew, save
the God who allowed him to go through such a trial for the purifying
of his faith and the chastening of his proud spirit. Closely was he
watched by master and tutors during the week, but none could detect
any signs of guilt or fear: steadily he went through with his lessons;
fearlessly he bent his knee in private prayer, morning and evening.
Yet the day was drawing near when, if no evidence of his innocence
appeared, the disgraceful sentence of expulsion from the school would
be pronounced against him. During these days, Sir James Dudley spent
every spare moment out-of-doors prowling round the spot where the
fishing rod had been found, feeling in every place in hopes of finding
some trace of the guilty one, but in vain. Dr. Bowles had himself
visited the sick woman, and she had confirmed the truth of the boy's
story, of his reading to her from time to time; but of that Saturday
she could say nothing, except that she knew she had slept most of the
afternoon.
Never had the doctor felt more perplexed. If Ronald was innocent, who
then was the guilty one? Once more, he publicly appealed to the boys,
telling them that the sentence could be no longer put off—the next
day he must decide, and implored them, as in God's sight, not to let
punishment fall on the innocent.
As he spoke, a short, stifled sob was heard, which most of those who
noticed it thought came from Ronald's breast. But Dudley's sharp ears
had caught the sound, and knew the sob was not Ronald's: quietly he
noticed that it came from a little boy, George Dundas, and as he was
known to be the friend of Pritchard, the only boy in the school who
bore malice to Macintosh. Dudley knew that sob was from no grief at
Ronald's disgrace; and a hope sprung up in the noble boy's heart that
he had a clue to the real offender.
After lessons, he sought out Dundas, and, without asking him any
questions, spoke of Ronald, how good, and kind, and loving he was;
reminding Dundas how he had got him not long before out of a scrape;
and then concluded by saying that Ronald, like George himself, was an
orphan, with no father and mother to care for him.
"And, maybe," said the boy, "his uncle will be so angry, he will turn
him to the door, and poor Ronald will become a wanderer on the face of
the earth."
George listened in silence, not condescending to answer one word; but
some hours after, he sought the master's study. Once inside it, he
broke down, sobbing like a child.
"Dr. Bowles," he said, "I have come to say, I wish to go home—to leave
school—I can't be good here. I'm turning worse and worse every day;
and my mother, on her death-bed, made me promise that I'd try to be an
honourable, truthful boy, and I can't be that here. Please, sir, don't
ask me why; but write to my guardian, and ask that I may go home."
Poor George! He, too, like Ronald, was an orphan boy; but, unlike him,
he had never sought a strength beyond his own to hold him up; and since
coming to Dr. Bowles's, he had got so entirely under the influence
of Pritchard, that almost unconsciously he had entered on a downward
course.
Dr. Bowles was much amazed. "Why, George," he said, "what is wrong? Why
can you not be truthful and honourable here? It is my great desire to
render so all the boys under my care."
Then, as if a sudden thought had come into his mind, he said quickly,
"Has the story of the fishing anything to do with your distress?
George, do you know who is the real culprit?"
No words came; no reply to the question; only loud sobs, as if the
boy's heart was breaking.
But in a minute or so, the master caught the words which sent a thrill
of joy through him:
"I must not, will not tell. Only, sir, don't send away Macintosh;
indeed, indeed, he does not deserve to be punished. He is not guilty—he
knows nothing about it; but I must not tell who is. I will not be a
tell-tale."
Ere Dr. Bowles could reply, a knock came to the door; and little Dudley
entered, followed by a tall young man in the dress of a peasant. The
brown eyes danced with a look of joy and triumph, such as they had not
worn for many a day.
In a few words his story was told. Prowling about by the side of the
river, as he had so often done lately, that morning he had met the
young lad who was now with him, and who had asked him:
"Be you one o' the lads that live in the school yonder?"
He had answered, "Yes."
Then said his questioner, "Canst tell if the lad wi' the scar on his
face, that was fishing here last Saturday, caught any fish?"
At these words Dudley had sprung up, and eagerly asked for an
explanation.
"You see," said the young man, "I was comin' along that day to see a
friend on the other side o' the river, and was meanin' to cross at the
bridge farther down, when a good-looking lad wi' a mark on his face
comed up to me, and asked if I belonged to these parts."
"And when I said, 'No; I comed from a farm a good bit off,' he says,
'All right then; I may ask you: I'm going to fish hereabouts, and I've
got a new rod, but the tackle's got all wrong—would you lend me a hand
to put it to rights?'"
"So I says that I will; and we sorts it all, and I left him a-fishing.
And I guessed he was one o' the scholards in the big school; and so I
just wanted to know if he had caught many fish."
"So," said Dudley, addressing the master, "I brought him right off to
you, sir; for he says he can tell in a minute what boy he spoke to;
and, sir, you know there is only one in the school has a mark, and
that's Pritchard. And," said Dudley, unable to suppress his delight, "I
knew it wasn't Macintosh—it could not have been."
The matter was soon settled; the moment Pritchard saw the lad enter
the school-room, he broke down and confessed all. He was the guilty
one; but he had not intended, in taking the rod, to implicate Ronald.
He took it because it was the only one he could lay his hands on; and
fear and cowardice together made him silent when he found that the
transaction was discovered, and the guilty one called on to declare
himself.
When the truth was discovered, the feeling of the boys was without
exception one of gladness that Ronald was proved innocent. We need
not add that Pritchard was sent home; such an example could not be
tolerated. And from that day George Dundas spoke no more of leaving
the school. The lesson he had received was a salutary one for him. It
was he who was the second boy whom Mr. Lawson's man had seen running
off across the field. But though George knew that Pritchard was the
offender, he had taken no part in the transaction, and knew nothing of
Ronald's rod having been made use of. He only saw Pritchard fishing, as
he was strolling past from another field.
But taking in the story at a glance, when he saw the man coming down
the river from the other side, and Pritchard throw down the rod and
make for the school, George had run also, afraid of being caught and
suspected of trespassing. Fear of Pritchard had kept him silent when
Dr. Bowles had spoken.
And what of Ronald? He had suffered much during these days, and learned
some needful lessons; but calmly at last he had committed his way
unto the Lord; and now it was with a heart full of gratitude unto him
that he returned thanks that his character was cleared, and that the
royal banner he upheld had not, through his sin, been disgraced. His
influence in the school from that hour became stronger; and more than
one boy was led openly to take his stand on the Lord's side, fight
under his banner, and seek for that which is better than gold, and more
to be desired than rubies.