"Hurrah! he's a regular brick to come and back us up like this!"
everybody jumped to the correct view of Smedley's motives, and cheered
him scarcely less enthusiastically than they had just now cheered their
"Queen of Love and Beauty."
"I only wish he was in his flannels," said Arthur, "and would run the
mile against us. It would be something like to lick him off his own
stride."
Arthur was rather proud of his athletic slang. What he meant was that
he would sooner see Ainger win the mile against Smedley himself than
against Smedley's time.
"Never mind, he's going to be the judge, do you see? I say, old man,
you and I'll have to sit up now."
This was the universal effect of the captain's presence. Perhaps he
hardly realised himself what an advantage his presence was conferring on
his rivals.
The first event on the programme was the Babies' hundred yards, for
which our friends Bateson and Jukes were entered, with the serious
record of twenty-two seconds to beat. They were both a little pale and
nervous with the excitement of opening the ball, and looked round
wistfully, first at Railsford, then at Smedley, where he stood, watch in
hand, at the winning-post, and then up at the ladies' stand.
"Now, youngsters," said Railsford, "do your very best. You ought both
of you to run it under twenty seconds. Are you ready now? Off!"
The flood-gates were opened now; and from this moment till the end of
the sports Railsford's kept up a continual roar. Both Bateson and Jukes
had little difficulty in registering a double victory for their house.
Bateson covered the ground in nineteen seconds and Jukes in twenty-one.
While the cheers for this initial victory were in full cry, the third of
that morning's apparitions came upon the scene. This was no other than
Mr Bickers, at sight of whom a chill fell upon the assembly. What did
he want there? Hadn't he done them harm enough? Who asked him to come?
Why wasn't he making his own fellows miserable instead of coming here
and spoiling their fun?
Mr Bickers, after looking round him, and taking in the scene generally,
walked up to the ladies' stand. Fellows dropped back sullenly to make
room for him, although one or two pretended not to notice him and
continued to stand and shout "Bateson!" "Jukes," until he pushed them
aside.
"Good-morning, Miss Violet," said he, lifting his hat. "I did not
expect to see you here."
"Didn't you, Mr Bickers? I'm going to see all the events. They have
just run the first race, and Bateson and Jukes have both beaten the boy
in your house who won last week. Haven't you a programme? Mr
Railsford will give you one."
"Thank you. I'm not staying long. It will be rather dull for you, will
it not?"
"Dull!" said Miss Phyllis, laughing. "_I_ don't think it dull, thank
you."
Mr Bickers walked slowly into the enclosure, watched by everyone.
Railsford greeted him with a nod, and then walked off to the starting-
post to prepare for the next race. The prefects of the house looked
another way, and Smedley was busy comparing his watch with that of
monsieur.
"Smedley," said Mr Bickers, "how come you to be here? You ought to be
in your house."
"I have an _exeat_, sir," said the captain.
"From the doctor?"
"From Mr Roe."
"Mr Roe can scarcely be aware that I have refused a similar application
to boys in my own house."
Smedley made no reply to this observation, about which he had nothing to
say.
"You had better go in, Smedley. I will explain to Mr Roe."
Smedley looked at him in blank astonishment. It sounded more like a
jest than sober earnest.
"I have my master's _exeat_" he said; "if he or the doctor cancels it I
shall go in at once, sir."
It was Mr Bickers's turn to stare now. He had overdone it for once in
a way. His genius for interference had carried him a step too far; and
with a "Very good, Smedley," in terms which were meant to be ominous, he
turned away and proceeded to where Railsford was.
It was to speak to Railsford that he had come out into the fields that
morning. His interviews with Miss Violet and the captain had been by
the way. Railsford was busy marshalling the competitors for the Shell
quarter-mile, of whom there was an unusual number. He was too much
engrossed to notice Mr Bickers until that gentleman called him by name.
"I want a word with you, Railsford," said Mr Bickers.
"Now then, toe the line and be ready. Be careful about fouling. Are
you ready?"
"Railsford, I want a word with you."
Railsford looked sharply round and perceived who the intruder was.
"I can't speak to you now, Mr Bickers, I'm busy. Now, boys, are you
all ready? Off!"
And he started to run beside the race. Mr Bickers put as cheerful a
face on this little rebuff as he could, and presently walked across to
the winning-post to make another attempt. The race had been well won by
Tilbury, who had beaten the School record hollow, and shown himself a
long way ahead of his fellow-runners. He of course came in for an
ovation, which included a "Well run" from Smedley, and a "Bravo, indeed"
from Railsford, which he valued specially. It was while he was
receiving these friendly greetings that Mr Bickers once more approached
Railsford.
"Now you have a moment or two to spare," he began.
"I've not a moment to spare," said Railsford, irritated. "What do you
want?"
"I want you to look at this letter. It concerns you."
And he produced an envelope from his pocket.
"Give it to me," said Railsford. "I'll read it when I have time."
"No, thank you. I want you to--"
"Ring the bell for the high jump," said Railsford, turning his back. At
the signal the whole company closed in a solid phalanx round the poles.
For the high jump was one of the great events of the day. Mr Bickers
became mixed up in the crowd, and saw that it was hopeless to attempt
further parley. He turned on his heel, and the fellows made a lane for
him to pass out. As he got clear, and began slowly to retreat to his
own house, the boys raised a loud defiant cheer. But whether this was
to hail his departure or to greet the appearance of Barnworth and Wake,
ready stripped for the fray, it would be difficult to say. But
whichever it was, Mr Bickers seemed by no means discomfited. He turned
and caught sight of the head and shoulders of his rival towering among
his boys, and he smiled to himself and tapped the letter in his hand.
"Not a moment to spare!" said he to himself. "Good. We can wait. You
may not be in such a hurry to get rid of me when you do read it; and
your dear boys may change their minds about their hero, too," added he,
as a fresh cheer, mingled with a "Huzza for Railsford," was wafted
across the fields.