Fisher minor's hopes rose high within him as he stalked his debtor
across the School Green. Three times already he had encountered him,
but fate had stepped in to prevent the collection of his dues. Now--
He had arrived at this stage when a voice at his side sent a cold shiver
down his back.
"Hullo, kid, got you at last, then? That's what you call waiting where
I left you, do you?"
"I didn't promise to wait," said Fisher. "You told me to."
"It's the same thing. Now you'll come along with me, my beauty."
Had Fisher minor been anything but a raw hand, it might have occurred to
him that it would take Percy Wheatfield all his time to convey a boy
his, Fisher's, size against his will into Forder's house. But such is
the force of innocence on one side, and authority on the other, that the
new boy laid down his arms, and followed his captor meekly into the
enemy's citadel. Just as they were entering, a posse of the enemy
appeared on the scene, consisting, among other supporters of the Modern
cause, of Ramshaw, Cottle, Lickford, and Cash.
"Here's a game, Rammy," cried Percy. "Got him at last! This is the
villain, this is the murdering, highway forger. Come on, you kid;
you're in for it."
It did occur to Fisher minor at this juncture that a change of air might
be refreshing. But it was too late now. The enemy had him fast. There
was no getting out of the "warm weather" which had been promised him.
"Come on--we'll have a regular Old Bailey of it," cried Percy. "Go and
tell the fellows, and collar some witnesses, do you hear; and tell the
hangman he'll be wanted in half an hour."
This promise of judicial dispatch was not consoling to the prisoner, who
had grave doubts as to the impartiality of the tribunal before which he
was to be arraigned. He wondered if Ashby, or D'Arcy, or any of his
friends would appear among the witnesses.
The trial took place in the room jointly owned by Percy, Ramshaw,
Cottle, and Lickford. A chair was planted on the bed for the
accommodation of the judge. The fender was brought out in front of the
chest of drawers for a witness-box; while Rix minimus, who officiated as
jury, sat on a footstool on the table.
As for the prisoner, a dock was provided for him in the form of a wash-
stand, out of which the basin had been removed to make room for his
uneasy person in the vacant hole.
"Now, you chaps," said Percy, who had naturally appointed himself, in
addition to his other offices, "usher of the court", "no larks. Shut
up. This is a big job. This young cad cheated at Elections."
Here the door opened, and Dangle looked in.
"What on earth is all this row?" he said.
"A trial. I say, Dangle, will you be judge? It's a Classic kid that
cheated at Elections."
"No, really, I didn't," said Fisher, painfully aware that so far, the
trial was going against him.
Dangle, who fancied something might come of this, was condescending
enough to say he didn't mind playing at judge, if they liked. Whereat,
amid cheers, he was voted to the chair on the bed, where he sat rather
precariously, and ordered silence in the court.
"Who is the prisoner?"
"Go on, kid, tell 'em your name," said Percy, encouragingly.
"Fisher minor--really I didn't do anything," said the prisoner.
"What's the charge?" said the judge.
"You see, it's this way," said Percy, forgetting to go inside the
fender--"Bam, and Cot, and Lick and I were having a ripping eight-handed
mill in here the other day--"
The prisoner thought over all his crimes, and could recall nothing that
was even remotely connected with an eight-handed mill.
"Cot and Lick had got gloves with no horse-hair in them, you know, so
they lammed it pretty hard; but Ram and I were just scrunching them
up--"
"Crams! You never got near us. My nose wasn't hit once," said Cottle.
"No; but we had you in the ribs."
"Under the belt," ejaculated Lickford.
"No, it wasn't--I say, Dangle," said the witness, "it was just on his
waistcoat pocket, and he says that's below the belt. If he likes to
wear his belt round his neck, of course he gets hit under."
"And if you wear yours round your ankle, there's not much room for your
bread-basket," retorted Cottle.
"And where does Fisher minor come in?" asked the judge; "was he in the
middle of the mill?"
"No. You see, we were just in the middle of it, and these jolly cheats
were beginning to cave in--"
"Ho, ho!--It would take a lot more than you to make us--"
"Order in the court--go on, Wheatfield."
"There you are--shut up, you chaps--beginning to cave in, when
Clapperton yelled for me, and I had to go."
"Lucky job for you," growled Cottle. "You wouldn't have been able to go
at all five minutes later."
Whereupon Percy appealed to the court to keep order.
"Fire away," said the judge, "that's nothing to do with the prisoner."
"Oh, hasn't it!--You see, Clapperton wanted me to take a letter to
Yorke. It must have been a screamer, for Yorke yelled when he read it.
I wanted him to let me finish our mill first, but--"
"Who, Yorke?"
"No, Clapperton. If there'd been time for another round--"
"Now, then, don't let's have any more of that mill," said the judge.
"That's just what they felt at the time, wasn't it, Lick?" ejaculated
Cottle.
"Did we?--wait till you see, my beauty," said the witness. "I wish you
wouldn't interrupt. Oh, so I had to go, and this kid came and caught me
a jolly crack in the stomach."
"Which side of your belt?" inquired Lickford.
"The side you'll get it hot, my boy, next time I catch you," retorted
Percy.
"That'll be under, you bet," said Lickford.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," said the prisoner, who began to hope that
the charge against him was to prove much less serious than he had at
first feared, "I apologise."
"Shut up, don't talk to me--talk to the jury."
As the jury at this moment was struggling manfully to protect his
hassock from the depredations of Cash, who was anxious to investigate
its interior, it was not much use addressing him; so Fisher subsided,
and wished the hole of Percy's wash-stand had been at least so much
easier in diameter as to allow him room to sigh.
"Fire away," said the judge, "we shall be all night at this."
"Well, you see," continued Percy, "it's this way. I've got a brother,
you know, called Wally, a seedy Classic chap, and up to no end of low
tricks."
"We know him," echoed the court generally.
"Not got such a rummy-shaped waist as his brother, though," whispered
Cottle.
"All right, young Cottle, I'll take it out of you, you'll see."
"What'll you take! I keep mine outside," replied Cottle.
"Order in the court. Forge away, Wheatfield."
"I should like to know how I'm to forge away, with these two asses
fooling about down here? Why can't you raise them to the bench to keep
them quiet? Oh yes--well, you see, this kid, being new, and green, and
about as high old an idiot as they make them--did you fellows see him on
first-night? I say! oh my--"
"Look here, Wheatfield," said the judge, sternly, "if you aren't done in
three minutes, I'll call the next witness."
"_He_ wouldn't know anything about it, bless you," said Percy. "You
see, it was like this--this kid thought I was Wally--what do you think
of that?"
"Cheek. Jolly rough on Wally," remarked Cash. The witness looked at
the interrupter, and tried to make out whether his remark was a
compliment or the reverse. He decided that, as he had only three
minutes left, he had better defer thinking the question out till
afterwards.
"So, of course, he began to swagger about his big brother--"
"No, you asked me--" began the prisoner.
"Shut up," cried Percy, sternly, "how am I to get done in three minutes
if--"
"Only two left now," said Ramshaw.
"Go on, Ram, I've not been a minute yet."
"Yes, you have--sixty-five seconds," said Ramshaw, who held his watch in
his hand.
"I never did believe in those Waterbury turnips, they always stop when
you--oh yes!--swaggered about his big brother and all those fellows over
there, and blabbed out there'd been a regular plant among 'em to rig the
Elections, and he and a lot of 'em had been out canvassing and bagged a
lot of our kids and locked them out, and if it hadn't been for that,
Brinkman would have pulled off the treasurership, and if it hadn't been
for me getting wind of it, and going and fetching them out and bringing
them into Hall in the nick of time, Ranger would have got the
secretaryship, and our side would have been jolly well out of it, and I
mean to say it's a howling swindle--and--hope--there'll--be--a--jolly--
good--row kicked--up--and--you--needn't--say--I--let--out--about it--
because--Wally--asked--me--to--keep--it--mum--and I--said--"
"Time's up," said Ramshaw. "No side?"
Whereupon the witness stopped short triumphantly, like an athlete who
has just won his race by a neck.
"Come," said the judge, "this is getting interesting. Who's the next
witness? Are any of our fellows who were collared here?"
"Rather--young Rix is one."
"Please, Dangle," said the prisoner, "I didn't touch anybody. I was--
that is--"
"Don't tell crams," said Percy, "it's a bad habit."
"Rix had better go into the witness-box," said the judge.
"What about the jury?" asked that functionary.
"Oh, I'd keep the place warm," volunteered Percy.
Whereupon Rix quitted his hassock, and entered the fender.
"I and Slingsby got nailed by a Classic cad outside our form door. I
kicked him on the shins, though," said he.
"What Classic cad!"
"Oh, I don't know; a new kid with sandy hair, a horrid lout. It was
Wally's room we were taken to, and they fooled us about high tea and
that sort of thing. The place was swarming with our chaps who had been
collared."
"How many?" asked the judge. "Fifty?"
"Not quite so many; there were four or five."
"Next witness."
Another of the captives gave similar evidence. After which, Lickford
deposed that he had seen the troop come in to Elections just in time to
vote for Dangle.
"Yes; and who tried to keep us out, I'd like to know?" said Percy.
"There you are, it was _you_!"
"I thought you were on the other side."
"Did you? I'm very glad Wally gave you a welting for it. I wish he'd
do it again."
"He hits above the belt, that's how I know him from you," retorted
Lickford.
"Order--what's the prisoner got to say!"
"Crams," said Percy, "it's no use asking him."
"Wait a bit," said the judge. "Fisher minor, how many of our chaps did
you collar?"
"None, really," said the prisoner. "I waited by the gymnasium."
"Oh. What for?"
"Well, I was canvassing."
"What did you wait at the gymnasium for?" This was awkward. Fisher
minor found himself getting into a tight corner, tighter even than the
wash-stand. "I was told to."
"Who by? your brother, I suppose."
"Oh no. My brother wouldn't do such a thing."
"What sort of thing?"
"Why, try to collar fellows off the other side."
"Oh, that was your little game, was it? Whose idea was it? Yorke's?"
"Oh no. It was D'Arcy spoke to me."
"Oh, D'Arcy. And who spoke to him? Whose fag is he?"
"Ridgway's."
"And what did Ridgway tell him?"
"I don't think Ridgway told him anything. The only one I heard speak to
him was Wally."
"Wretched young sneak!" said Percy. "I'll let Wally know that."
"Wally, he's Yorke's fag. Who else was there?"
"Only me and Ashby."
"Who does Ashby fag for?"
"My brother, Fisher major."
"I thought you said just now your brother wasn't in it. You'd better be
careful, youngster."
For the life of him, Fisher minor, in his bewildered state, could not
make out how Ridgway, and Yorke, and Fisher major all seemed to have got
mixed up in the affair.
"You mean to say," said the judge, "you don't know what the orders to
the fags were?"
"No, really--I only heard of it from D'Arcy."
"Your brother never said anything to you direct!"
"Oh no."
"Has he said anything since?"
"Oh no; that is, he only said it was a pity Ranger got beaten."
"Did he say how it happened?"
"He said if the five Modern chaps hadn't turned up at the last moment,
he'd have won."
"Was he angry about it?"
"He was rather in a wax."
"Did he tell you you were an ass?"
"Not that time."
"Another time?"
"Yes, once or twice."
"'Cute chap, your brother," said Percy, aside.
"Shut up, Wheatfield. Now tell me this, young Fisher major," said
Dangle, with an air of importance which intimidated the prisoner; "what
was it your brother said about the election?"
"It wasn't to me, it was to Ranger, my senior. He said it was a regular
sell, and he'd have given a lot to see you beaten, because he knew you
couldn't play fair at anything, even if you tried."
Some of the court were rude enough to laugh at this very candid
confession; but the judge himself failed to see any humour in it.
"Oh, that's what he said? And yet you mean to tell me, after that, that
your brother had nothing to do with trying to get Ranger elected instead
of me?"
"I suppose he had; but I'm sure he didn't mean to do anything fishy, any
more than I did. I thought it was only a joke."
"You've a nice notion of a joke. That'll do, you can cut."
"What!" exclaimed Percy, aghast, "aren't you going to hang him?"
"No, I must go. You can finish the trial yourselves."
As soon as the judge had quitted the bench, Percy mounted it, and
proceeded to sum up.
"You're a nice article, you are," said he, addressing the
prisoner--"what do you mean by sneaking on my young brother, Wally, eh?
You'll get it hot for that, I can tell you. You're to be hanged, drawn,
and quartered; then you're to be kicked all round our side; then you're
to be ducked in the river; then you're to kneel down and lick every
chap's boots; then you're to be executed; then you're to be burnt alive;
then you're to write out fifty Greek verbs; then you're-- Hallo, who's
there? Come in! what do you want?"
This abrupt curtailment of the prisoner's doom was occasioned by a
modest tap at the door; probably some belated witness come to add his
evidence to the rest, "Come in, can't you?" repeated Percy.
Whereupon the door opened with a swing, and in rushed Wally, D'Arcy,
Ashby, and three or four other Classic fags. How they had got wind of
the capture of their man it would be hard to say; but now they had come
to fetch him.
The only thing visible in Percy's room for several minutes was dust--out
of which proceeded yells, and howls, and recriminations which would have
done credit to Pandemonium. As the cloud rolled by, the Classics might
be seen in a firm phalanx, with their man in the middle, backing on to
the door. Signs of carnage lay all around. Lickford was struggling,
head downward, in the wash-stand. Cash was leaning up in a corner, with
his hand modestly placed over his nose. Ramshaw and Cottle were engaged
in deadly strife on the floor, each under the fond delusion that the
other was a Classic; while the twin brothers, armed with the better pair
of boxing-gloves, were having a friendly spar in the middle.
It was a victory all along the line for the invaders, and when, a moment
afterwards, they stampeded in a body, and marched with shouts of victory
down the passage, carrying the late prisoner among them, there was no
mistake about the ignominious defeat of the besieged garrison.
That evening Fisher major received a polite note from his colleague, the
secretary.
"Dear Fisher,--It is only right to tell you, that we have discovered
that five of our fellows were prevented from voting at Elections by boys
of your side, apparently acting under orders from their seniors. We
don't profess to know who were at the bottom of it, but it is a fact
that the election for treasurer would have gone differently but for this
very shady trick. Clapperton and most of us are not disposed to claim a
new election, now everything is settled, and you have already got in
most of the subscriptions. But it makes us think that even the virtuous
Classics at Fellsgarth are not absolutely perfect even yet--which is a
pity.
"Yours truly,--
"R. Dangle."
This pleasant letter, Fisher major, raging, carried to the captain.
Yorke pulled a long face when he read it.
"There's no truth in it, surely?" said he.
"I can't answer for any foolery the juniors have been up to; but apart
from that, it's a sheer lie, and the fellows deserve to be kicked."
"Much better offer them a new election," said the captain.
"What! They'll get their man in."
"My dear fellow, suppose they do. You'll still belong to Fellsgarth.
They mustn't have a chance of saying they don't get fair play."
"Well, perhaps you're right. I don't care twopence about the
treasurership, but I wouldn't like to be beaten by Brinkman."
"I hope you won't be, old man," said the captain.
Next morning, when fellows got up, they found the following notice on
the boards:
"Elections.
"A protest having been handed in against the recent election for
treasurer, notice is given that a fresh election will be held for this
office on Friday next at 3.
"C.Y., Captain."