A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS.
The firmest friendships, we are told, have been formed in mutual
adversity; and among the many trials which served to strengthen and
confirm the loyalty and unity of the Triple Alliance, a string of minor
disasters which overtook them one unlucky day early in December must
certainly not be overlooked.
The after results of this chapter of accidents cause it to assume an
additional importance as being the "beginning of the end," alike of this
narrative and of an eventful period in the history of Ronleigh College.
The reader will understand, therefore, that in turning our attention for
a short time to an account of the afore-mentioned misfortune of the
three friends, we are not wandering from what might be called the main
line of our story.
"It all came about," so said Jack Vance, "through Carton's having the
cheek to go home some ten days before proper time." The latter
certainly did, for one reason or another, leave Ronleigh on Wednesday,
the eleventh of December; and by his own special request, our three
friends came down to the station to see him off.
"Have you got anything to read going along?" asked Diggory, as they
stood lingering round the carriage door.
"Yes," answered Carton. "Look here, you fellows, you might get in and
sit round the window till the train starts; it'll keep other people from
getting in, and I shall have the place to myself."
The Triple Alliance did as they were requested.
"Aha, my boys!" continued Carton, rubbing his hands together, "when
you're stewing away in 'prep' this evening, think of me at home eating a
rattling good tea, and no more work to prepare after it for old
Greyling."
"Oh, rubbish!" cried Jack. "I wouldn't go now even if I had the chance.
Why, you'll miss all the fun of breaking up; and young 'Rats' is making
up a party to fill a carriage, and we're going to have a fine spree.
Then by the time we get home for Christmas it'll be all stale to you.
Pshaw! I wouldn't--hullo!--here, stop a minute!--why, she's off!"
Off she certainly was. There had been a sharp chirrup of the whistle,
and at almost the same moment the train began to move. Diggory tried to
let down the window to get at the handle of the door; but the sash
worked stiffly, and before he succeeded in making it drop, the train had
run the length of the platform, and the station was left behind.
The four boys gazed at one another for a moment in blank astonishment,
and then burst into a simultaneous roar of laughter.
"You'll have to go as far as Chatton now," said Carton. "Never mind; you
can get back by the next train."
"Yes; but the question is if we've got any money," answered Jack Vance
ruefully. "It's fourpence the single journey, so the fare there and
back for three of us'll be two bob. Here's threepence; that's all the
tin I'm worth.--what have you got, Diggy?"
"Four halfpenny stamps, and half a frank on my watch-chain," was the
reply. "But I don't think these railway Johnnies 'ud take either of
those."
On examination, the only articles of value Mugford's pockets were found
to contain were an aluminium pencil-case which wouldn't work, and a
dirty scrap of indiarubber.
"Look here," cried Carton, "I'll give you two shillings. It's my fault;
and I've got something over from my journey-money."
The offer was gladly accepted, and at length, when the train reached
Chatton, the three chums wished their companion good-bye, laughing
heartily over their unexpected journey.
"What time's the next train back to Ronleigh?" asked Jack, as he paid
the money for their fare to the ticket-collector.
"Let's see," answered the official: "next train to Ronleigh--5.47."
Jack's face fell. "Isn't there any train before that?" he asked.
"We've got to be back at the school by half-past five."
"Can't help that," returned the man; "next train from here to Ronleigh's
5.47. And," he added, encouragingly, "she's nearly always a bit late."
The boys wandered disconsolately through the booking-office of the
little country station, and halted outside to consider what was to be
done.
"It's five-and-twenty past four," said Jack Vance, looking at his watch,
"and it's a good six miles by road; we shall never walk it in the time."
"It's a good bit shorter by rail," mused Diggory, "if we could walk
along the line. That tunnel under Arrow Hill cuts off a long round."
"We couldn't do that," said Mugford; "there are notice-boards all over
the shop saying that trespassers on the railway will be prosecuted."
"Oh, bother that," cried Jack Vance, suddenly smitten with Diggory's
idea. "Who cares for notice-boards? We'll go home along the line.
If we trot every now and then, we shall get back in time."
"Well, we'd better walk along the road as far as that curve," said
Diggory, "and then they won't see us from the station."
The trio started off in the direction indicated, hurrying along the
permanent way, hopping over the sleepers, and seeing how far they could
run on one of the metals without falling off. At length they entered a
cutting, the steep banks of which rose gradually until they towered high
above their heads on either hand. Before long the mouth of the tunnel
was reached, and, as if by mutual consent, the three friends came to a
halt.
There was something forbidding about the dark, gloomy entrance--the
stale, smoky smell, and the damp dripping from the roof, all tending to
give it a very uninviting aspect.
"It's awfully long," said Mugford; "don't you think we'd better turn
back?"
In their secret hearts his two companions were more than half inclined
to follow this suggestion; but there is a form of cowardice to which
even the bravest are subject--namely, the fear of being thought afraid--
and it was this, perhaps, which decided them to advance instead of
retreat.
"Oh no, we won't go back," cried Diggory. "Come along; I'll go first."
And so saying, he plunged forward into the deep shadow of the archway.
The ground seemed to be plentifully strewn with ashes, which scrunched
under their feet as they plodded along, and their voices sounded hollow
and strange.
"My eye," said Jack, "it's precious dark. I can hardly see where I'm
going."
"It'll be darker still before we see the end," answered Diggory. "Some
one was telling me the other day that there's a curve in the middle."
"Hadn't we better go back?" faltered Mugford.
"No, you fathead; shut up."
The darkness seemed to increase, and the silence grew oppressive.
The boys were walking in single file, Diggory leading, and Jack Vance
bringing up the rear.
"I say," exclaimed the latter, as he stumbled over a sleeper,
"I shouldn't like to be caught here by a train."
"That can't happen," retorted Diggory; "didn't you hear the man say
there wasn't another till 5.47?"
"Yes," added Mugford; "but there might be a luggage, or one coming the
other way."
"Well, all you'd have to do would be to cross over on to the other
line."
Imperceptibly the boys quickened their pace until it became almost a
trot.
"Hurrah!" cried Diggory, a few moments later, as a far-distant
semicircle of daylight came into view. "There's the other end."
"Stop a minute," cried Jack, emboldened by the prospect of soon being
once more in the fresh air; "let's see if we can make an echo."
The little party halted for a moment, but instead of hearing the shrill
yell for the production of which Jack had just filled his lungs, their
ears were greeted with a far more terrible sound, which caused their
hearts to stop beating. There was, it seemed, a sudden boom, followed
by a long, continuous roar. Diggory turned his head, to find the
far-off patch of light replaced by a spark of fiery red, and the
terrible truth flashed across his mind that in the excitement of the
moment he could not remember for certain which was the down line.
It was well for the Triple Alliance that at least one of their number
was blessed with the faculty of quick decision and prompt action, or the
history of their friendship might have had a tragic ending.
Diggory wheeled round, and catching hold of Mugford, cried in a voice
loud enough to be heard above the ever-increasing din, "Quick! get into
the six-foot way, and lie down!"
What followed even those who underwent the experience could never
clearly describe. They flung themselves upon the ground: there were the
thundering roar of an earthquake, coupled with a deafening clatter, as
though the whole place were falling about their ears, and a whirling
hurricane of hot air and steam.
In ten seconds, which seemed like ten minutes, the whole thing had come
and gone, and Diggory, scrambling to his feet in the dense darkness of
the choking atmosphere, inquired in a shaky voice, "Are you all right,
you chaps?"
There was a reply in the affirmative, and the three boys proceeded to
grope their way along in silence, until the broad archway of the
tunnel's mouth appeared through a fog of steam and smoke.
"I say, you fellows," cried Diggory, as they emerged into the fresh air,
"I wouldn't go through there again for something."
"It was a good thing you gave me that shove," said Mugford; "I felt as
though I couldn't move. And we were standing on the very line it went
over."
"Yes: I couldn't remember for the moment which was 'up' and which was
'down.' I thought, too, we should be safer lying flat on the ground
when it passed; had we stood up in the six-foot way, we might have got
giddy and fallen under the wheels."
The conversation was suddenly interrupted by a strange voice shouting,--
"Hullo, you young beggars! what are you a-doing there?"
The boys turned to see from whence this inquiry proceeded. Half-way up
the cutting on their left was a little hut, and beside it stood the man
who had spoken. The same glance showed them another thing--namely, that
just beside this little shanty was one of the notice-boards Mugford had
mentioned, warning the public that persons found trespassing on the
railway would be prosecuted.
"Come along," cried Jack Vance; "let's bolt."
Unless they doubled back into the tunnel, their only way of escape lay
in scaling the right side of the cutting, as a short distance down the
line a gang of platelayers were at work, who would have intercepted them
before they reached the open country.
"Come along," repeated Jack Vance, and the next moment he and his two
companions were clambering as fast as they could up the steep side of
the embankment, clutching at bushes and tufts of grass, and causing
miniature landslips of sand and gravel with every step they took.
The man shouted after them to stop, and seeing that they paid no
attention to his commands, promptly gave chase, rushing down the narrow
pathway from the hut, and scrambling after them up the opposite
slope.
Jack Vance and Diggory, whose powers of wind and limb had benefited by
constant exercise in the football field, were soon at the top; but
Mugford, who was not inclined to be athletic, and who had already been
pretty nearly pumped in hurrying out of the tunnel; was still slowly
dragging himself up the ascent, panting and puffing like a steam-engine,
when his comrades reached the summit.
His pursuer was gaining on him rapidly, and it was in vain that his two
friends (too loyal to make good their escape alone) stood, and with
frantic gestures urged him to quicker movement. Just, however, as the
capture seemed certain, a great piece of loose earth giving way beneath
the man's weight caused the latter to fall forward on his face. In this
posture he tobogganed down the slope, with more force than elegance; and
with a yell of triumph Jack and Diggory stretched out their hands, and
dragged Mugford up to the level grassy plateau on which they stood.
Close behind them was a wood, and without a moment's hesitation they
plunged through the hedge, and dashed on through the bushes. The dry
twigs cracked, and the dead leaves rustled beneath their feet.
Suddenly, not more than fifty yards away to their right, there was the
loud explosion of a gun, and almost at the same instant a harsh-voice
shouted: "Hi there--stop! Where are you going?"
"Oh," panted Jack, "it's one of the keepers! Run for all you're worth!"
The opposite edge of the wood was not far distant. The three youngsters
rushed wildly on, and stumbling blindly over the boundary hedge,
continued their mad gallop across a narrow field. Over another hedge,
and they were in a sunken roadway. Then came the end. Mugford
staggered over to the opposite bank, and falling down upon it with his
hand pressed to his side, gasped out, "Awful stitch--can't go any
further!"
Years afterwards, when the Triple Alliance met at an Old Boys' dinner,
they laughed heartily in talking over this adventure; but there were no
signs of mirth on any of their faces at the time it was happening.
Then as Jack Vance and Diggory stood staring blankly at each other in
the deepening winter twilight, they suddenly blossomed out into heroes--
heroes, it is true, in flannel cricket-caps and turned-down collars,
but heroes, at all events to my mind, as genuine in the spirit which
prompted their action as those whose deeds are known in song and story.
The barking of a dog in the field above showed that the keeper was
following up their trail.
"Bun for it!" panted Mugford; "don't wait for me!"
"Shan't!" said Jack and Diggory in one voice; and the latter, sticking
his hands in his trouser pockets, began to whistle.
"Go on!" cried Mugford.
"Shan't!" repeated his companions.
It was evident that the Triple Alliance would sink or swim together, and
it so happened that by a piece of unexpected good fortune they were
destined to realize the latter alternative. There was a clatter of
wheels, the quick stamp of a fast-trotting horse, and a baker's cart
came swinging round the corner. Diggory, whose wits never seemed to
desert him at a critical moment, recognized it at once as belonging
to the man who supplied the school, and springing forward he beckoned to
the driver to stop, crying,--
"I say, give us a lift into Ronleigh, and we'll pay you a shilling.
We belong to the college."
The man peered round the canvas covering, and at once recognized the
boys' cap and crest.
"All right," he said. "Hop up; I'll find room for you somewhere."
The danger was past; with an audible sigh of relief the three youngsters
clambered into the vehicle, and the next moment were bowling rapidly
along in the direction of the town.
"I say," cried Jack, "this is a stroke of good luck. Why, we shall be
back in time after all."
The remainder of their conversation was lost to the ears of the driver,
but seemed to consist mainly of a series of attempts on the part of
Mugford to say something, which were always interrupted by a chorus of
groans, and shouts of "Shut up!" from his two companions.
At length the cart arrived at Ronleigh, and set down the three
passengers at the corner of Broad Street, the principal thoroughfare;
and here their adventures seemed to have terminated.
I say _seemed_, because, as a matter of fact, something still remains to
be told in the history of this eventful day; but before proceeding to
the close of the chapter, it will be well to say a word or two with
regard to a certain person connected with it who is as yet unknown to
the reader.
Ronleigh was fortunate in having a staff of masters who won the respect
and confidence of the boys. Some poor-spirited fellows there are who
will always abuse those set in authority over them; but at Ronleigh
there was happily, on the whole, a mutual good understanding, such as
might exist in a well and wisely disciplined regiment between officers
and men.
Exceptions, however, prove the rule; and when at the commencement of the
present winter term a new junior master had come to take charge of the
Third Form, it was evident from the first that before long there would
be trouble. Mr. Grice was a very short man, with a pompous, hectoring
manner, which was, somehow, especially exasperating to fellows who stood
a good head and shoulders taller than the master. His rule was founded
on the fear of punishment, and the sceptre which he wielded was a small
black note-book, in which he entered the names of all offenders with an
accompanying "Hundred lines, Brown!" or "Write the lesson out after
school, Smith." Lastly, Mr. Grice was not a gentleman. Boys, I know,
pay little attention to the conventionalities, and are seldom found
consulting books on etiquette; but those who have been well brought up,
and accustomed at home to an air of refinement, are quick to detect
ill-breeding and bad manners in those older than themselves, and who
"ought to know better." So it came about that Mr. Grice was unpopular,
and the boys in his class bemoaned their fate, and called him
uncomplimentary nicknames.
We left the three friends standing at the corner of Broad Street.
The church clock had just struck the quarter-past five, and by this time
it was dark, though the street was lit up by the gas-lamps and the long
rows of shop windows.
"I hope no one sees us," said Jack Vance. "I'm mud all over. We must
look sharp, or we shall be late."
"Hullo!" exclaimed Diggory, "look out! Here's that wretched little
Grice coming; there, he's stopped to look into the ironmonger's shop.
We must dodge past him somehow, or he'll want to know where we've
been."
The trio crossed quickly over to the opposite side of the street, and
hurried off at full speed in the direction of the school.
All boys were supposed to be on the school premises by half-past five,
and at that time the door leading to the outer world was locked by the
prefect for the day.
Oaks, who happened to be on duty, was standing in the passage talking to
Allingford when the three juveniles arrived, out of breath and flushed
with running.
"Hullo, you kids! where have you been?" inquired the captain.
Diggory launched out into a brief description of their many adventures;
Oaks laughed heartily. "Well," he said, pulling out his watch, "you've
just got back in time; half a minute more, and you'd have been outside,
my boys."
The prefect locked the door, and continuing his conversation with
Allingford, started off down the passage. On reaching what was the main
corridor on the ground floor, they paused for a moment, and stood
warming their hands at the hot-water pipe, and it was while thus engaged
that they were suddenly accosted by Mr. Grice, who bustled up to them in
a great state of excitement.
"Are you on duty, Oaks?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have any boys come in late?"
"No, sir."
"Well, three boys passed me in the town; I think one of them was young
Trevanock. I called to them to stop, but they took no notice. When
they come in, you send than to me."
"They weren't late, sir," answered Oaks; "they came in about a minute
ago."
"Oh, nonsense. I looked at my watch when I saw them in the town, and
then it was five-and-twenty past; they couldn't have come up in five
minutes. You must either have let them in, or not closed the door at
the proper time."
Prefects at Ronleigh were not in the habit of being lectured as though
they were lower-school boys. Oaks bit his lip.
"I closed the door on the stroke of half-past," he answered.
"Well, you say those boys came in about two minutes ago. By me it's now
twenty to six, so they must have been late."
"They were in before half-past, sir; your watch must be wrong."
"Don't keep contradicting me, sir," said the master.
"We are supposed to work by the school clock, sir," interposed the
captain.
"I'm not aware that I addressed any remark to you, Allingford," retorted
Mr. Grice, rapidly losing all control of his temper. "You need make no
further attempt to teach me the rules of the school; I flatter myself
that I am sufficiently well versed in them already."
A crowd of idlers, attracted by the angry tones of the master's voice,
had begun to collect in the passage, and the captain flushed to the
roots of his hair at being thus taken to task in public.
"I merely said, sir, that we work by the school clock."
"And I say, hold your tongue, sir.--Oaks, remember you report those
three boys for being late."
"I can't do that, sir," answered Oaks stolidly, "for they were in time."
Mr. Grice boiled over. "You are a very impertinent fellow," he cried.
"I shall report you both to the doctor." And so saying, he turned on
his heel and walked away.
There was a buzz of astonishment among the bystanders. The idea of a
captain of Ronleigh being reported to the doctor was something novel
indeed, and by the time the first bell rang for tea, a report of the
collision between Mr. Grice and the prefects had spread all over the
school.