THE PHILISTINES.
The Triple Alliance, the formation of which has just been described, was
destined to be no mere form of speech or empty display of friendship.
The members had solemnly sworn to stand by one another whatever
happened, and the manner in which they carried out their resolve, and
the important consequences which resulted from their concerted actions,
will be made known to the reader as our story progresses.
Poor Mugford certainly seemed likely to be a heavy drag on the
association; he was constantly tumbling into trouble, and needing to be
pulled out again by those who had promised to be his friends.
An instance of this occurred on the day following Diggory's arrival at
The Birches. He and Vance had gone down after morning school into what
was called the playroom, to partake of two more of the latter's
mince-pies, and on their return to the schoolroom found a crowd
assembled round Acton, who, seated on the top of a small cupboard which
always served as a judicial bench, was hearing a case in which Mugford
was the defendant, while Jacobs and another boy named Cross appeared as
plaintiffs.
The charge was that the former was indebted to the latter for the sum of
half a crown, which he had borrowed towards the end of the previous
term, in separate amounts of one shilling and eighteen pence, promising
to repay them, with interest, immediately after the holidays. The money
had been expended in the purchase of a disreputable old canary bird, for
which Noaks, the manservant, had agreed to find board and lodging during
the Christmas vacation. Now, when the creditors reminded Mugford of his
obligations, they found him totally unable to meet their demands for
payment.
"Now, look here," said Acton, addressing the defendant with great
severity, "no humbug--how much money did you bring back with you?"
"Well, I had to pay my brother before I came away for my share in a
telescope we bought last summer, and then--"
"Bother your brother and the telescope! Why can't you answer my
question? How much money did you bring back with you?"
"Only five bob."
"Then why in the name of Fortune don't you pay up?"
"Because I had to pay all that to Noaks for bird-seed."
"D'you mean to say that that bird ate five shillings' worth of seed in
four weeks?"
"Well, so Noaks says; he told me he'd kept scores of birds in his time,
but he'd 'never seen one so hearty at its grub before.' Those were the
very words he used, and he said it was eating nearly all the day, and
that's one reason why it looks such a dowdy colour, and never sings."
"Well, all I can say is, if you believe all Noaks tells you, you're a
fool. But that's no reason why these two chaps should be done out of
their money; so now, how are you going to pay them?"
"If they only wait till pocket-money's given out--" began Mugford.
"Oh no, we shan't!" interrupted Cross. "He only gets sixpence a week,
and he's always breaking windows and other things, and having it
stopped."
There seemed only one way out of the difficulty, and that was to put as
it were an execution into Mugford's desk, and realize a certain amount
of his private property.
"Look here," said Acton, "he must sell something.--Now, then," he added,
turning to the defendant, "just shell out something and bring it here at
once, and we'll have an auction."
The boy walked off to his desk, and after rummaging about in it for some
little time, returned with a miscellaneous collection of small articles
in his arms, which he proceeded to hand up one by one for the judge's
inspection.
"What's this?"
"Oh, its a book that was given me on my birthday, called 'Lofty Thoughts
for Little Thinkers.'"
"Lofty grandmother!" said Acton impatiently.
"What else have you got ?"
"Well, here's a wire puzzle, only I think a bit of it's lost, and the
clasp of a cricket belt, and old Dick Rodman's chessboard and some of
the men, and some stuff for chilblains, and--"
"Oh, dry up!" interrupted Acton; "what bosh! Who d'you expect would buy
any of that rubbish? Look here, we'll give you till after dinner, and
unless you find something sensible by then, we shall come and hunt for
ourselves."
"That's just like Mug," said Jack Vance to Diggory, as the group of boys
slowly dispersed; "he's always doing something stupid. But I suppose as
we made that alliance, we ought to try to help the beggar somehow."
They followed their unfortunate comrade to his desk, which when opened
displayed a perfect chaos of ragged books, loose sheets of paper, broken
pen-holders, pieces of string, battered cardboard boxes, and other
rubbish.
"Look here, Mug, what have you got to sell? you'll have to fork out
something."
"I don't know," returned the other mournfully, stirring up the contents
of the desk as though he were making a Christmas pudding. "I've got
nothing, except--well, there's this book of Poe's, 'Tales of Adventure,
Mystery, and Imagination,' and my clasp-knife; and perhaps some one
would buy these fret-saw patterns or this dog-chain."
He turned out two or three more small articles and laid them on the
form.
"Are there any of these things you particularly wish to keep?" asked
Diggory; "because, if so, Vance and I'll bid for them, and then you can
buy them back from us again when you've got some more money."
"That's awfully kind of you," answered Mugford, brightening up. "I'll
tell you what I should like to keep, and that's my clasp-knife and the
book; they're such jolly stories. 'The Pit and the Pendulum' always
gives me bad dreams, and 'The Premature Burial' makes you feel certain
you'll be buried alive."
"All right; and did you bring a cake back with you?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, sell that first, and you can share our grub."
The auction was held directly after dinner. The cake fetched a
shilling, and Diggory and Vance bid ninepence each for the book and
pocket-knife; so Mugford came out of his difficulty without suffering
any further loss than what was afterwards made good again by the
generosity of his two comrades. They, for their part, made no fuss over
this little act of kindness, but handed the book and clasp-knife over
to Mugford without waiting for the money, and little thinking what an
important part these trifling possessions would play in the subsequent
history of the Triple Alliance.
The sale had not long been concluded, and the little community were
preparing to obey Acton's order to "Come outside," when the latter
rushed into the room finning with rage.
"I say," he exclaimed, "what do you think that beast of a Noaks has
done? Why, he's gone and put ashes all over our slide!"
In their heart of hearts every one felt decidedly relieved at this
announcement; still it was necessary, at all events, to simulate some of
their leader's wrath, and accordingly there was a general outcry against
the offender.
"Oh, the cad!"--"What an awful shame!"--"Let's tell Blake!" etc., etc.
"Who is Noaks?" asked Diggory. "Is he that sour-looking man who brings
the boots in every morning?"
"Yes, that's so," answered Vance. "He hates us all--partly, I believe,
because his son's a Philistine. I wonder old Welsby doesn't get another
man."
"His son's a _what?_" asked Diggory; but at that moment Acton came
marching round the room ordering every one out into the playground, and
Jack Vance hurried off to get his cap and muffler without replying to
the question.
Sliding was out of the question, and the "House of Lords" having amused
themselves for a time by capturing small boys and throwing them into the
snow-drift, some one remarked that it would be good fun to build a snow
man; which proposition was received with acclamation, and all hands were
soon hard at work rolling the big balls which were to form the base of
the statue. As the work progressed the interest in it increased, the
more so when Diggory suggested that the figure should be supposed to
represent the obnoxious Noaks, and that the company could then relieve
their feelings by pelting his effigy as soon as it was completed.
Every one was pleased with the project, and even Acton, who as a rule
would never follow up any plan which was not of his own making, took
special pains to cause the snow man to bear some likeness to the
original. He had just, by way of a finishing touch, expended nearly
half a penny bottle of red ink in a somewhat exaggerated reproduction of
the fiery hue of Noaks's nose, when the bell rang for afternoon school,
and the bombardment had to be postponed until the following day.
It was no small trial of patience being thus obliged to wait nearly
twenty-four hours before wreaking their vengeance on the effigy; still
there was no help for it. The boys bottled down their feelings, and
when at last the classes were dismissed, and the dux cried, "Come on,
you fellows!" every one obeyed the summons willingly enough. There had
been a slight thaw in the night, and the statue stood in need of some
trifling repairs. Acton suggested, therefore, that the half-hour
before dinner should be devoted to putting things to rights, and to
making some small additions in the shape of pebbles for waistcoat
buttons, and other trifling adornments.
Mr. Welsby kept the boys at the table for nearly a quarter of an hour
after the meal was finished, talking over his plans for the coming term,
and when at last he finished there was a regular stampede for the
playground. Acton was leading the rush; he dashed through the garden
doorway, and then stopped dead with an exclamation of dismay. All those
who followed, as they arrived on the spot, did the same. Every vestige
of the snow man, which had been left barely an hour ago standing such a
work of art, had disappeared. Certainly a portion of the pedestal still
remained, looking like the stump of an old, decayed tooth; but the
figure itself had been thrown down, trodden flat, and literally stamped
out of existence!
The little crowd stood for a moment speechless, gazing with woebegone
expressions on their faces at the wreck of their hopes and handiwork;
then the silence was broken by a subdued chuckle coming from the other
side of the wall on their left, and every one, with a start and a sudden
clinching of fists, cried simultaneously: "The Philistines!"
The words had hardly been uttered when above the brickwork appeared the
head and shoulders of a boy a size or so bigger than Acton;
a dirty-looking brown bowler hat was stuck on the very back of his head,
and rammed down until the brim rested on the top of his ears; and it
will be quite sufficient to remark that his face was in exact keeping
with the manner in which he wore his hat. Once more everybody gave vent
to their feelings by another involuntary ejaculation--"Young Noaks!"
The stranger laughed, pulled a face which, as far as ugliness went, was
hardly an improvement on the one Nature had already bestowed upon him,
and then pointed mockingly at the remains of the masterpiece.
His triumph, however, was short-lived. Jack Vance, as he left the
house, had caught up a double handful of snow, which he had been
pressing into a hard ball as he ran down the path, determining in his
own, mind to be the first to open fire on the snow man. Without a
moment's hesitation he flung the missile at the intruder's head, and, to
the intense delight of his companions, it struck the latter fairly on
the mouth, causing him to lose his precarious foothold on the wall and
fall back into the road.
It needed no further warning to inform the Birchites that the
Philistines were upon them, and every one set to work to lay in a stock
of snowballs as fast as hands could make them. "Look out!" cried
Kennedy. Young Noaks's face rose once more above the top of the wall,
and the next moment a big stone, the size of hen's egg, whizzed past
Diggory's head, and struck the garden door with a sounding bang.
"Oh, the cad!" cried Acton; "let's go for him."
The whole garrison combined in making a vigorous sortie into the road;
but it was only to find the enemy in full retreat, and a few dropping
shots at long range ended the skirmish.
"I say, Vance," exclaimed Diggory, "who are they? Who are these
fellows?"
Now, as the aforesaid Philistines play rather an Important part in the
opening chapters of our story, I propose to answer the question myself,
in such a way that the reader may be enabled to take a more intelligent
interest in the chain of events which commenced with the destruction of
the snow man; and in order that this may be done in a satisfactory
manner, I will in a few words map out the ground on which this memorable
campaign was afterwards conducted.
Take the well-known drawing of two right angles In Euclid's definition,
and imagine the horizontal line to be the main road to Chatford, while
the perpendicular one standing on it is a by-way called Locker's lane.
In the right angle stood The Birches; the house itself faced the
Chatford road, while behind it, in regular succession, came first the
sloping garden, then the walled-in playground, and then the small field
in which were attempted such games of cricket and football as the
limited number of pupils would permit. There were three doors in the
playground--one the entrance from the garden, another opening into the
lane, and a third into the field, the two latter being usually kept
locked.
Locker's Lane was a short cut to Chatford, yet Rule 21 in The Birches
Statute-Book ordained that no boy should either go or return by this
route when visiting the town; the whole road was practically put out of
bounds, and the reason for this regulation was as follows:
At the corner of the playing field the lane took a sharp turn, and about
a quarter of a mile beyond this stood a large red-brick house, shut in
on three sides by a high wall, whereon, close to the heavy double doors
which formed the entrance, appeared a board bearing in big letters the
legend--
HORACE HOUSE,
Middle-Class School for Boys.
A. PHILLIPS, B.A., Head-master.
The pupils of Mr. Phillips had been formerly called by Mr. Welsby's boys
the Phillipians, which title had in time given place to the present
nickname of the Philistines.
I have no doubt that the average boy turned out by Horace House was as
good a fellow, taking him all round, as the average boy produced by The
Birches; and that, if they had been thrown together in one school, they
would, for the most part, have made very good friends and comrades.
However, in fairness both to them and to their rivals, it must be said
that at the period of our story Mr. Phillips seemed for some time past
to have been unusually unfortunate in his elder boys: they were
undoubtedly "cads," and the character of the whole establishment, as far
as the scholars were concerned, naturally yielded to the influence of
its leaders.
It had been customary every term for the Birchites to play a match
against them either at cricket or football; but their conduct during a
visit paid to the ground of the latter, back in the previous summer, had
been so very ungentlemanly and unsportsmanlike that, when the next
challenge arrived for an encounter at football, Mr. Welsby wrote back a
polite note expressing regret that he did not see his way clear to
permit a continuation of the matches. This was the signal for an
outbreak of open hostilities between the two schools: the Philistines
charged the Birchites in the open street with being afraid to meet them
in the field. These base insinuations led to frequent exchanges of
taunts and uncomplimentary remarks; and, last of all, matters were
brought to a climax by a stand-up fight between Tom Mason, Acton's
predecessor as dux, and young Noaks. The encounter took place just
outside the stronghold of the enemy, the Birchite so far getting the
best of it that at the end of a five minutes' engagement he proclaimed
his victory by dragging his adversary along by the collar and bumping
his head a number of times against the very gates of Horace House.
Unfortunately a rumour of what had happened got to the ears of
Mr. Welsby. Mason was severely reprimanded, and his companions were
forbidden, under pain of heavy punishment, to walk in Locker's Lane
further than the corner of their own playing field.
"But who is young Noaks?" asked Diggory, as Jack Vance finished a hasty
account of this warfare with the Philistines.
"Why, that's just the funny part of it," returned the other. "This Sam
Noaks is the son of our Noaks, but he's got an uncle, called Simpson,
who lives at Todderton, where I come from. This man Simpson made a lot
of money out in Australia, and when he came back to England he adopted
young Noaks, and sends him here to Phillips's school."
By this time the home forces had all struggled back into the playground.
In one corner stood a wooden shed containing a carpenter's bench, a
chest for bats and stumps, and various other things belonging to
different boys. Acton, as head of the school, kept the key, and having
unfastened the door, summoned his followers inside to hold an impromptu
council of war and discuss the situation. There was a grave expression
on each face, for every one felt that things were beginning to look
serious. Mason, the only one of their number who had been physically
equal to the leaders of their opponents, was no longer among them, and
the enemy, evidently aware of their helpless condition, had dared for
the first time to actually come and beard them in their own den.
"What I want to know first is this," began Acton. "You can see by the
footmarks that they came in through that door; of course it's always
kept locked, and here's the key hanging up inside the shed. Now who
opened it for them, and how was it done?"
"Perhaps it wasn't fastened," suggested Morris.
"Yes, it was," answered Kennedy excitedly. "I noticed that this
morning, when we were picking up stones for the snow man's buttons."
"Then I tell you what it is," continued Acton solemnly: "some one here's
playing us false, and my belief is it's old Noaks. D'you remember last
term when Mason and Jack Vance and I made a plot for going down and
throwing crackers into their yard? Well, they must have heard of it
from some one; for they were all lying in wait for us behind the wall,
and as soon as we got near to it they threw cans of water over us and
pelted us with stones."
There was a murmur of suppressed wrath at the memory of the fate of this
gallant expedition.
"Yes," added Shaw, "and I believe some one told them about this snow
man."
"Well, one thing's certain," said Acton--"we must serve 'em out somehow
for knocking it down. They evidently think now Mason's gone they can do
what they like, and that we shall be afraid of them. Now what can we
do?"
There was a silence; every one felt that a serious crisis had arrived in
the history of the Birchites, and that unless some immediate steps were
taken to avenge this insult they would no longer be free men, but live
in constant terror of the Philistines;--every one, I say, felt that some
bold action must be taken, yet nobody had a suggestion to make.
"Well, look here," said Acton, "something's got to be done. We must all
think it over, and we'll have another meeting in a week's time; then if
any one's made a plan, we'll talk it over and decide what's to be done."
"Jack," said Diggory two evenings later, "you know what Acton said about
the Philistines; well, I've got part of a plan in my head, but I shan't
tell you what it is till Wednesday."