ROLLITT.

Rollitt of Wakefield's was a standing mystery at Fellsgarth. Though he

had been three years at the school, and worked his way up from the

junior form to one of the first six, no one knew him. He had no

friends, and did not want any. He rarely spoke when not obliged to do

so; and when he did, he said either what was unexpected or disagreeable.

He scarcely ever played in the matches, but when he did he played

tremendously. Although a Classic, he was addicted to scientific

research and long country walks. His study was a spectacle for

untidiness and grime. He abjured his privilege of having a fag. No one

dared to take liberties with him, for he had an arm like an oak branch,

and a back as broad as the door.

All sorts of queer stories were afloat about him. It was generally

whispered that his father was a common workman, and that the son was

being kept at school by charity. Any reference to his poverty was the

one way of exciting Rollitt. But it was too risky an amusement to be

popular.

His absence of mind, however, was his great enemy at school. Of him the

story was current that once in the Fourth, when summoned to the front to

call-over the register, he called his own name among the rest, and

receiving no reply, looked to his place, and seeing the desk vacant,

marked Rollitt down as absent. Another time, having gone to his room

after morning school to change into his flannels for cricket, he had

gone to bed by mistake, and slept soundly till call-bell next morning.

"Have you heard Rollitt's last?" came to be the common way of prefacing

any unlikely story at Fellsgarth; and what with fact and fiction, the

hero had come to be quite a mythical celebrity at Fellsgarth.

His thrift was another of his characteristics. He had never been seen

to spend a penny, unless it was to save twopence. If fellows had dared,

they would have liked now and then to pay his subscriptions to the

clubs; or even hand on an old pair of cricket shoes or part of the

contents of a hamper for his benefit. But woe betide them if they ever

tried it! The only extravagance he had ever been known to commit was

some months ago, when he bought a book of trout-flies, which rumour said

must have cost him as much as an ordinary Classic's pocket-money for a

whole term.

To an impressionable youth like Fisher minor it was only natural that

Rollitt should be an object of awe. For a day or two after his arrival,

when the stories he had heard were fresh in his memory, the junior was

wont to change his walk to a tip-toe as he passed the queer boy's door.

If ever he met him face to face, he started and quaked like one who has

encountered a ghost or a burglar. After a week this excess of deference

toned down. Finding that Rollitt neither hurt nor heeded him, he

abandoned his fears, and, instead of running away, stood and stared at

his man, as if by keeping his eye hard on him he could discover his

mystery.

It was two or three days after Elections that Fisher minor, having

discovered by the absence of everybody from their ordinary haunts that

it was a half-holiday, took it into his head to explore a little way

down the Shargle Valley. He believed the other fellows had gone up; and

he thought it a little unfriendly that they should have left him in the

lurch.

He was not particularly fond of woods, unless there were nuts in them;

or of rivers, unless there were stones on the banks to shy in. Still,

it seemed to be half-holiday form at Fellsgarth to go down valleys, so

he went, quite indifferent to the beauties of Nature, and equally

indifferent as to where this walk brought him.

A mile below Fellsgarth, as everybody knows, the Shargle tumbles wildly

into the Shayle, with a great fuss of rapids and cataracts and "narrows"

to celebrate the fact; and a mile further, the united streams flow

tamely out among reeds and gravel islands into Hawkswater.

Fisher minor had nearly reached the junction, and was proceeding to

speculate on the possibility of picking his way among the stones towards

the lake, when he caught sight of a boat in the middle of the rapid

stream. It was tied somewhat carelessly to the overhanging branch of a

tree, which bent and creaked with every lurch of the boat in the passing

rapids. Standing in the stern as unconcerned as if he was on an island

in a duck-pond, was Rollitt with his fishing-rod, casting diligently

into the troubled waters.

For the first time the junior enjoyed an uninterrupted view of the

object of his curiosity. He found it hard to recognise at first in the

eager, sportsmanlike figure, with his animated face, the big shambling

fellow whom he had so often eyed askance in the passages at Wakefield's.

But there was no mistaking the shabby clothes, the powerful arms, the

broad, square back. Rollitt the sportsman was another creature from

Rollitt the Classic, and Fisher minor was critic enough to see that the

advantage was with the former.

There was no chance of being detected. Rollitt was far too busy to heed

anything but the six-pounder that struggled and plunged and tore away

with his line to the end of the reel. Had all Fellsgarth stood

congregated on the banks, he would never have noticed them.

Ah! he was beginning to wind in now, gingerly and artfully, and the

fish, sulking desperately among the stones, was beginning to find his

master. It was a keen battle between those two. Now the captive would

dive behind a rock and force the line out a yard or two; now the captor

would coax it on from one hiding-place to the next, and by a cunning

flank movement cut off its retreat. Then, yielding little by little,

the fish would feign surrender, till just as it seemed within reach,

twang would go the line and the rod bend almost double beneath the

sudden plunge. Then the patient work would begin again. The man's

temper was more than a match for that of the victim, and, exhausted and

despondent, the fish would, sooner or later, have to submit to the

inexorable.

How long it might have gone on Fisher could never tell; for once, when

victory seemed on the point of declaring for the angler, and the shining

fins of the fish floundered despairingly almost within his reach, a

downward dash nearly wrenched the rod from his hands and sent him

sprawling on to the thwarts. The sudden lurch of the boat was too much

for the ill-tied rope, and to Fisher's horror the noose gave way and

sent boat and fisherman spinning down the rapids at five miles an hour.

Rollitt either did not notice the accident or was too engrossed to heed

it. He still had his fish, though as far off as before, and once more

the tedious task of coaxing him out of his tantrums was to begin over

again. It was useless to shout. The roar of the water among the stones

above and over the rocks below was deafening, and Fisher's piping voice

could never make itself heard above it. He tried to throw a stone, but

its little splash was lost in the hurly-burly of the rapids. It was

hopeless to expect that Rollitt would see him. He had no eyes but for

his rod.

The last glimpse Fisher minor caught of him as the boat, side-on,

swirled round the turn towards the falls below, he was standing on the

seat, craning his neck for a glimpse of his prize, and winding in

gingerly on the reel as he did so. Then he disappeared.

With a groan of panic the small boy started to follow. The boulders

were big and rough, and it was hard work to go at ordinary rate, still

more to run. Happily, however, after a few steps he stumbled upon a

path which, though it seemed to lead from the river, would take him, he

calculated, back to it above the falls at the end of the bend in which

the boat was. It was a tolerable path, and Fisher minor never got over

ground so fast before or after. A few seconds brought him out of the

wood on to the river-bank, where the stream, deepening and hushing,

gathers itself for its great leap over the falls.

Had the boat already passed, and was he too late! No; there it came,

sidling along on the swift waters, the angler still at his post, leaning

over with his landing-net, within reach at last of his hard-earned

prize. What could Fisher minor do! The stream was fairly narrow, and

the boat, sweeping round the bend, was, if anything, nearer the other

side, where the banks were high. His one chance was to attract the

anglers attention. Had that angler been any one but Rollitt, it might

have been easy.

Arming himself with a handful of stones, Fisher minor waited till the

boat came within a few yards. Then with a great shout he flung with all

his might at the boat.

The sudden fusillade might have been unheeded, had not one stone struck

the angler's hand just as he was manoeuvring his landing-net under the

fish. In the sudden start he missed his aim and looked up.

"Look out!" screamed Fisher. "You're adrift! Catch the branch!"

And he pointed wildly to the branch of an ash which straggled out over

the water just above the fall.

Rollitt took in the situation at last. He cast a regretful glance at

the fish as it gave its last victorious leap and vanished. Then,

standing on the gunwale and measuring his distance from the tree, he

jumped. For a moment Fisher minor thought he had missed; for the branch

yielded and went under with his weight. But in a moment, just as the

boat with a swoop plunged over the fall, he rose, clutching securely and

hauling himself inch by inch out of the torrent. To Fisher, who watched

breathlessly, it seemed as if every moment the branch would snap and

send the senior back to his fate. But it held out bravely and supported

him as he gradually drew himself up and finally perched high and dry

above the water.

Fisher minor's difficulties now began. Having seen his man safe he

would have liked to run away; for he was not at all sure how Rollitt

would take it. Besides, he wouldn't much care to be seen by fellows

like Wally or D'Arcy walking back in his company to Fellsgarth. On the

other hand, it seemed rather low to desert a fellow just when he was

half-drowned and might be hurt. What had he better do? Rollitt decided

for him.

He came along the bough to where the boy stood, and dropped to the

ground in front of him.

"Thanks," he said, and held out his hand.

Fisher was horribly alarmed. The tone in which the word was spoken was

very like that which Giant Blunderbore may have used when dinner was

announced. However, he summoned up courage to hold out his hand, and

was surprised to find how gently Rollitt grasped it.

"I didn't mean to hurt you with the stones," he said.

"You didn't. Come and look for the boat, Fisher minor."

"He knows my name then," soliloquised the minor, beginning to recover a

little from his panic. "I hope nobody will see me."

The boat was found bottom upwards--a wreck, with its side stove in,

entangled in a mass of flotsam and jetsam which had gathered in one of

the side eddies below the waterfall.

"Haul in, Fisher minor," growled Rollitt, surveying the wreck.

With difficulty they got it ashore and turned it right side up.

"Rod, flies, net, all gone," said Rollitt, half angry; "and fish too."

"It was such a beauty, the trout you hooked. I wish you'd got it. You

nearly had it too when you had to jump out," ventured Fisher.

Rollitt looked down almost amiably at the speaker. Had the boy studied

for weeks he could not have made a more conciliatory speech.

"Can't be helped," said the senior. "Might have been worse. Thanks

again. Come and see Mrs Wisdom."

Mrs Wisdom was a decent young widow woman in whom the Fellsgarth boys

felt a considerable interest. Her husband, late gamekeeper at Shargle

Lodge, had always had a civil word for the young gentlemen, especially

those addicted to sport, by whom he had been looked up to as a universal

authority and ally. In addition to his duties at the Lodge, which were

very ill paid, he had eked out his slender income by the help of a boat,

which he kept on the lower reach below the falls, and which was, in the

season, considerably patronised by the schoolboys. When last season he

met his death over one of the cliffs of Hawk's Pike, every one felt

sympathy for the widow and her children, who were thus left homeless and

destitute. An effort was made, chiefly by the School authorities, to

get her some laundry work, and find her a home in one of the little

cottages on the School farm, near the river; while the boys made it

almost a point of honour never to hire another boat down at the lake if

Mrs Wisdom's was to be had.

Last week the boat had been brought up to the cottage on a cart, to be

repainted for the coming season, and while here Rollitt had begged the

use of it for this particular afternoon to fish from in the upper reach.

"Take care of her, Master Rollitt," said the widow; "she's a'most all

I've got left, except the children. My John, he did say the upper reach

was no water for boats."

"I'll take care," said Rollitt.

As the two boys now walked slowly, towards the cottage, Fisher minor

could see that his companion's face was working ominously. He mistook

it for ill-temper at the time, for he did not know Mrs Wisdom's

history, or what the wreck meant to her.

She was at her door as they approached, and as she looked up and saw

their long faces, the poor woman jumped at the truth at once.

"Don't say there's anything wrong with the boat, Master Rollitt. Don't

tell me that."

Rollitt nodded, almost sternly.

"It went over the fall," said Fisher, feeling that something ought to be

said. "Rollitt only just got out in time."

"Over the fall! Then it's smashed," cried she, bursting into tears.

"It was to keep our body and soul together this season. Now what'll

become of us! Oh, Master Rollitt, I did think you'd take care of my

boat. It was all I had left--bar the children. What'll _they_ do now?"

Rollitt stood by grimly silent till she had had her cry and looked up.

"I'm sorry," said he, in a voice that meant what it said. "What was it

worth?"

"Worth? Everything to me."

"What would a new one cost?"

"More than I could pay, or you either. My John gave five pound for

her--and oh, how we scrimped to save it! Where's it to come from now!"

and she relapsed again into tears.

Rollitt waited a little longer, but there was nothing more to add; and

presently he signalled Fisher to come away.

He was silent all the way home. The junior did not dare to speak to

him--scarcely to look up in his face. Yet it did occur to him that if

any one had a right to be in a bad temper over that afternoon's

proceedings it was Mrs Wisdom, and not Rollitt.

As they neared the school, Fisher minor began to feel dreadfully

compromised by his company. Rollitt's clothes were wet and muddy; his

hands and face were dirty with his scramble along the tree; his air was

morose and savage, and his stride was such that the junior had to trot a

step or two every few yards to keep up. What would fellows think of

him! Suppose Ranger were to see him, or, still worse, the Modern

Wheatfield, or--

At this moment fate solved his problem. For just ahead of him, turning

the corner of Fowler's Wall, was the cadaverous individual who owed him

half a crown.

"Oh, excuse me, Rollitt," said he, "there's a fellow there I want to

speak to. Good-bye."

Rollitt did not appear either to hear the words or notice the desertion,

but stalked on till he reached Wakefields'. The house seemed to be

empty. Evidently none of the other half-holiday makers had returned.

Study doors stood open; an unearthly silence reigned in Wally's

quarters. Even the tuck-shop was deserted.

The only person he met was Dangle, the clubs' secretary, who had

penetrated into the enemy's quarter in order to confer with his dear

colleague the treasurer as to calling a committee meeting, and was now

returning unsuccessful.

"Ah, Rollitt," said he, "tell Fisher major, will you, I want to see him

as soon as he comes in. I'd leave a line for him, but I don't know his

room."

Whether Rollitt heard or not, he had to guess. At any rate he hardly

felt sanguine that his message would be delivered.

As for Rollitt, he shut himself into his study with a bang, and might

have been heard by any one who took the trouble to listen, pacing up and

down the floor for a long time that evening. He did not put in an

appearance in the common room, and although Yorke sent to ask him to

tea, he forgot all about the invitation, and even if he had remembered

it, would have forgotten whether he had said Yes or No.

The next morning--Sunday--just as the chapel bell was beginning to ring,

Widow Wisdom was startled by a loud knock at her door.

"Oh, Master Rollitt," said she, and her eyes were red still, "is the

boat safe after all?"

"No; but I've got you another. Farmer Gay's was for sale on the lake--

I've bought it. It's yours now."

"Farmer Gay's--mine? Oh, go on, Master Rollitt, how could _you_ buy a

boat any more than me? You've no money to spare, I know."

"It's yours--here's the receipt," said the boy, with almost a scowl.

"But, Master Rollitt--"

But Master Rollitt had gone to be in time for chapel.