Victory has its drawbacks, like everything else. The brilliant retreat
of the Modern juniors and their auxiliaries under the enemy's fire was
all very well as a strategic movement. But when it came to deciding
what to do next, the difficulties of the situation became painfully
apparent.
Mr Stratton stayed half an hour chatting over the shop affairs, and
then rose to go.
"Good night, boys. It's time for Mr Forder's boys to be back in their
house."
This unpleasant reminder had a very damping effect on the conviviality
of the party generally. As soon as the master had gone, Wally said--
"It strikes me you Modern kids are in a bit of a mess."
"I'm afraid your bedroom will be a little untidy," said Fisher minor.
"The best thing you can do is to climb back by the window," suggested
D'Arcy.
"I don't fancy you'll want a warming-pan to-night," said Ashby.
This was all very nice and helpful. The heroes looked at one another
dismally.
"We must lump it," said Percy. "They can't do anything very bad."
"Can't they?" said Cottle. "Were you ever licked by Brinkman?"
"No," said the others.
"All right--I have been--that's all." This sounded alarming. D'Arcy
said--
"Why don't you come over to our side, and out that lot! We could have
no end of larks if you were Classics, instead of little Modern beasts."
"Our side's as good as yours," snapped Lickford. "All serene; you'd
better go and join them," said Wally.
This did not advance the argument much further. Of course it was out of
the question to go and tell tales to the Classic prefects, or even to
their own master. Nor was the suggestion of sleeping that night on the
Classic side hailed with enthusiasm by either party.
On the whole D'Arcy's suggestion of getting back by the window seemed
the most hopeful. When once back they would go straight to bed, where
they would be safe for a while. Then, if they could manage to rise at
the supernatural hour of six, they might succeed in evading the
penalties of rebellion for another day. For to-morrow being exeat day,
they would be free to roam where they liked. And they had a very good
idea that wherever it was, they would give Forder's house a very wide
berth.
"Tell you what!" exclaimed Wally, slapping his brother on the back so
hard as to cause him to yell loud enough to bring every prefect of
Fellsgarth on to the spot. "Tell you what, old chappies; of course we
will! Why ever didn't we think of it before--eh?"
"Think of what?"
"Why, we'll go up Hawk's Pike, of course."
"Of course we will," said everybody.
What mattered it to _them_ that Hawk's Pike had defied the ordinary
tourist for generations? _They_ weren't ordinary tourists, or anything
like.
"You come over for us at six," said Wally. "Bring the grub we left in
your room. It'll be a regular sell for all those chaps. We'll make a
day of it."
It seemed a magnificent solution of the problem; and on the strength of
it the five truants departed, not without misgivings, for their
quarters.
The rope was still dangling from their window, and Cash, whose father
was in the Navy, was selected by general consent as the member of the
party best qualified to make the first ascent. He modestly tried to
induce some one else to assume the honour, but he was outvoted, and,
devoutly hoping to find the coast clear of the enemy, he addressed
himself to the venture.
It was not particularly arduous for a decent climber, and in a couple of
minutes his companions saw him swing himself on to the ledge, and
disappear into the room.
In a moment he put out his head.
"All clear," said he. "The door's smashed in, and all the things kicked
about anyhow; but there's no one about."
That was the main thing. The company speedily followed, materially
assisted in their clamber by sundry knots tied in the rope by the
ingenious Cash, and by his energetic hauling from above.
The programme was carried out without a hitch. Without waiting for the
bed-bell they one and all presented themselves to the dormitory dame,
and requested permission to turn in, pleading severe fatigue (which was
by no means imaginary) as the reason for this unwonted haste. So
smartly was the retirement effected, that no one was aware of their
return to their house until half an hour later. When the dormitory
filled up, their five noses were discernible peeping from out the
sheets.
Whatever chastisement the prefects may have had in store for them
evidently could not be administered at present. For a disturbance in
the dormitory was a capital offence in Mr Forder's eyes, and, as the
master's room was adjacent, and he was known to have returned and to be
within earshot, the only thing possible was secretly to promise the
rebels a warm time of it as soon as they woke next morning.
But Revenge sleeps sounder than Caution. As five struck in the clock
tower, Ramshaw, who had had it on his mind he might oversleep himself,
and, in consequence, had been up looking at his watch every ten minutes
during the night, slipped finally out of bed, and roused each of his
partners. He expected no gratitude for his good offices, and was not
disappointed. The sleepers growled and grunted at his well-meant
efforts, pulled the clothes over their heads, called him unfriendly
names, threatened him with untold vengeance, and scouted all idea of
danger by delay, till he was almost tired of trying. But by the end of
three-quarters of an hour, with the aid of a moist sponge and other
persuasives, he got them to their feet well awake to a sense of the
undertaking before them.
They still grumbled--at the cold, and the darkness, and the fatigue, and
blamed Ramshaw for all three. They heartily despised themselves for
their promise to the Classic boys last night, and still more for the row
with their own prefects, which was the cause for all this inconvenience.
But as they gradually slipped on their clothes, and the warm bed
receded more into the background, they cheered up and recovered their
courage.
There was no difficulty in getting out. The dormitory door stood open.
Brinkman, who was the prefect on duty, lay snoring loud and long in the
end bed. Mr Forder's bedroom was on the safe side of a brick wall.
Carrying their boots in their hands they slunk off to their study, where
they made a hasty selection from the miscellaneous provisions stored
over-night, and then, one by one, solemnly slid down the rope.
Once on the grass, in the chill, dark air, depression fell upon them a
second time. Their thoughts returned to the snug beds they had left.
Even Brinkman and Clapperton could not take it out of them more than
this white frost and nipping air. However, the bell began to toll six;
and the thought of their companions in discomfort spurred them on to
energy. They crawled across the Green to Wakefield's.
Four ghostly figures were visible in the feeble dawn, hovering under the
wall.
"Got the grub?"
It was the cheery voice of Wally Wheatfield, at sound of which the
pilgrims took comfort, and were glad they had turned out after all.
The first thing was to get clear of Fellsgarth, which was easily
accomplished, as no one was about. Even had they been observed, beyond
the general wonder of seeing nine juniors taking a morning walk at 6
a.m., there was nothing to interfere with their liberty. As soon as
they got into Shargle Woods a brief council of war was held.
"It's a jolly stiff climb," said Wally.
"I've got a compass," said Ashby, as if that disposed of the difficulty.
Ashby had an ulster, which just then seemed to some of his comrades a
still more enviable possession.
"How many miles?" asked Lickford.
"Miles? Who ever reckoned mountains by miles? It's three hours to the
top."
"That'll be nine o'clock," wisely observed Cash.
"Who knows the way up?" Percy asked.
"Way up? Can't you see it?" said Wally. "When you get to the bottom,
you go straight up."
"All very well for you. I can't walk up a perpendicular cliff. I dare
say I could come straight down if I tried," submitted Percy.
"Oh, there are lots of paths. It's as easy as pot," said Wally.
"Suppose we have a bit of grub now. It'll be less to carry, you know."
Whereupon an attack was made on the provisions, with the result that
considerably less was left to carry up.
The meal ended, a start was made in earnest, and the party trailed down
the valley towards the lake at an easy jog-trot, and came to the
conclusion that ascending a pike was ridiculously simple work.
By the time they reached the lake, and began to strike up the winding
lane that led round to the rearward slopes of the great mountain, an
hour had passed.
"Nearly half-way there," said Fisher minor, hoping some one would
corroborate the statement.
"Oh, we don't count that bit we've come anything," said Wally. "We're
just starting up now."
"Oh," said Fisher, again hoping to be confirmed. "Then it's only two
hours' climb?"
"That's all you know about it. Wisdom used to say he could do it in
three hours from the lake-side. But he was a wonner to go. Come along;
wire in, you chaps."
"Where did Wisdom get killed?" asked Percy, by way of a little genial
conversation.
"I heard over the other side, down the cliffs above the lake. He got
caught in a mist and lost his way."
"How do you know this is the right way up?" asked Cottle.
"Because it's as plain as the nose on your face," retorted the guide.
It was a long dreary pull up the lower slope, over the wet grass and
through the bracken, and Fisher minor before he accomplished the first
stage was heartily sick of Hawk's Pike. One or two of his companions,
to tell the truth, were not quite as enamoured of the expedition as they
tried to appear, but they kept their emotions to themselves. Wally was
the only member of the party who was uniformly cheerful, and no one, not
even Percy, exactly liked to incur his contempt by appearing to enjoy
the clamber less than he.
"Come on, you chaps," cried the leader as he staggered to the top of the
slope. "Keep it up. What a crow it will be for us, when we get to the
top!"
"I suppose," gasped Fisher minor, as he threw himself on the grass,
"we're half-way now?"
"Getting on," said Wally. "I dare say on the top of that next ridge we
shall be able to see the top."
"What, isn't that the top?" said poor Fisher, craning his head up
towards the beetling crag above them.
"Top? No, that's the knob half-way down we see from the school window.
The stiff part begins after that."
Really Wally, if he had tried to be heartless, could not have succeeded
better. Had he but expressed some hint at regret that the distance was
so long, or vouchsafed the least semblance of a growl at the labour
involved, they would have loved him. As it was, they durst do nothing
but hate him, and accept his information joyously.
"That's nothing," said Lickford. "I feel quite fresh; don't you, you
chaps?"
"Rather!" they chimed in plaintively.
"Better get on," said Wally, after a few minutes more. How they loathed
Wally then!
The new slope was worse than the first; for the grass was more boggy,
and big stones here and there jarred their tender feet. Besides, it
grieved them to see Wally zigzagging steadily on ahead, utterly
regardless of their distress behind. Yet no one exactly liked to stop.
Had any one had the courage to do so, they would have gone down like a
row of ninepins.
Let no one charge these boys with chicken-heartedness. On the contrary,
they worked up that slope like heroes; all the more so that they were
ready to drop, and durst not for very shame. There is no hero like the
coward who compels himself to be brave. Many a man in history has
become famous for an exploit that cost him far less than this climb cost
the Fellsgarth juniors. Therefore let this record at least award the
the credit they deserve.--It was some satisfaction, when the knob was
reached, and they looked up at the black towering crags above, to see
that even Wally seemed staggered for a moment.
"We may as well have a rest and some grub before we tackle that lot,"
said he. "What do you say?"
The motion was carried unanimously.
"It's eleven o'clock," said Cash. "We've been five hours already."
"Thank goodness we've broken the back of it," said Fisher minor.
"I don't know so much about that," said Percy.
"We shan't get up that as easily as we've done so far, I fancy."
"Rather not," said Wally, cheerfully, with his mouth full of sandwich.
"I believe it's not so bad after we get past those rocks though, on to
the top."
"What," cried Fisher, "isn't _that_ the top then?"
"Bless you, no. We have to go down a bit when we get there, and cross a
bog, and then the real pike begins."
The information was received with dead silence, and the party sat grimly
munching their lunch with upturned eyes.
"Which way do we go?" asked Cottle presently.
"I suppose up by the stream. It's bound to lead up to the bog."
The stream in question was a torrent which fell in a series of leaps
through a narrow gorge in the rocks.
Fisher minor looked very blue.
"I wish I'd got my strong boots," said he.
The dismal tone in which he uttered the words startled the others.
"I say, young Fisher," said D'Arcy, "you're not done yet, are you!"