diff options
Diffstat (limited to '7423-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/7423-h.htm | 19447 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike1.jpg | bin | 0 -> 101503 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike10.jpg | bin | 0 -> 100419 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike11.jpg | bin | 0 -> 86761 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike12.jpg | bin | 0 -> 84136 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike13.png | bin | 0 -> 7076 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike2.jpg | bin | 0 -> 118256 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike3.jpg | bin | 0 -> 70106 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike4.jpg | bin | 0 -> 82021 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike5.jpg | bin | 0 -> 89168 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike6.jpg | bin | 0 -> 63730 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike7.jpg | bin | 0 -> 82862 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike8.jpg | bin | 0 -> 81366 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 7423-h/images/jmike9.jpg | bin | 0 -> 87943 bytes |
14 files changed, 19447 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/7423-h/7423-h.htm b/7423-h/7423-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..02fc67f --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/7423-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,19447 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mike, by P. G. Wodehouse</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mike, by P. G. Wodehouse</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Mike</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: P. G. Wodehouse</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 15, 2004 [eBook #7423]<br /> +[Most recently updated: May 1, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Suzanne L. Shell, Jim Tinsley, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE ***</div> + +<h1>MIKE</h1> + +<h2>A PUBLIC SCHOOL STORY</h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>P. G. WODEHOUSE</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF “THE GOLD BAT,” “A PREFECT’S UNCLE,” ETC.</h4> + +<h4>CONTAINING TWELVE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY</h4> +<h3>T. M. R. WHITWELL</h3> + +<h4>LONDON<br/> +1909</h4> + +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/jmike1.jpg" alt="“ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON THEN WHO HAD AN AVERAGE OF FIFTY ONE POINT NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?”" /> +</p> + +<h4>[Dedication]<br/> +TO<br/> +ALAN DURAND</h4> + +<hr /> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr><td> </td><td><h2>CONTENTS</h2></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td><b>CHAPTER</b></td></tr> + +<tr><td><b>I. </b></td><td><a href="#ch1">M<small>IKE</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>II. </b></td><td><a href="#ch2">T<small>HE JOURNEY DOWN</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>III. </b></td><td><a href="#ch3">M<small>IKE FINDS A FRIENDLY NATIVE</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>IV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch4">A<small>T THE NETS</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>V. </b></td><td><a href="#ch5">R<small>EVELRY BY NIGHT</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>VI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch6">I<small>N WHICH A TIGHT CORNER IS EVADED</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>VII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch7">I<small>N WHICH MIKE IS DISCUSSED</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>VIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch8">A<small> ROW WITH THE TOWN</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>IX. </b></td><td><a href="#ch9">B<small>EFORE THE STORM</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>X. </b></td><td><a href="#ch10">T<small>HE GREAT PICNIC</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch11">T<small>HE CONCLUSION OF THE PICNIC</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch12">M<small>IKE GETS HIS CHANCE</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch13">T<small>HE M.C.C. MATCH</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XIV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch14">A<small> SLIGHT IMBROGLIO</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch15">M<small>IKE CREATES A VACANCY</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XVI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch16">A<small>N EXPERT EXAMINATION</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XVII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch17">A<small>NOTHER VACANCY</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XVIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch18">B<small>OB HAS NEWS TO IMPART</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XIX. </b></td><td><a href="#ch19">M<small>IKE GOES TO SLEEP AGAIN</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XX. </b></td><td><a href="#ch20">T<small>HE TEAM IS FILLED UP</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch21">M<small>ARJORY THE FRANK</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch22">W<small>YATT IS REMINDED OF AN ENGAGEMENT</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch23">A<small> SURPRISE FOR MR. APPLEBY</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXIV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch24">C<small>AUGHT</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch25">M<small>ARCHING ORDERS</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXVI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch26">T<small>HE AFTERMATH</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXVII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch27">T<small>HE RIPTON MATCH</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXVIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch28">M<small>IKE WINS HOME</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXIX. </b></td><td><a href="#ch29">W<small>YATT AGAIN</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXX. </b></td><td><a href="#ch30">M<small>R. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXXI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch31">S<small>EDLEIGH</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXXII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch32">P<small>SMITH</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXXIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch33">S<small>TAKING OUT A CLAIM</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXXIV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch34">G<small>UERILLA WARFARE</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXXV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch35">U<small>NPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXXVI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch36">A<small>DAIR</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXXVII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch37">M<small>IKE FINDS OCCUPATION</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXXVIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch38">T<small>HE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XXXIX. </b></td><td><a href="#ch39">A<small>CHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XL. </b></td><td><a href="#ch40">T<small>HE MATCH WITH DOWNING’S</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XLI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch41">T<small>HE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF JELLICOE</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XLII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch42">J<small>ELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK-LIST</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XLIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch43">M<small>IKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XLIV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch44">A<small>ND FULFILS IT</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XLV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch45">P<small>URSUIT</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XLVI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch46">T<small>HE DECORATION OF SAMMY</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XLVII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch47">M<small>R. DOWNING ON THE SCENT</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XLVIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch48">T<small>HE SLEUTH-HOUND</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>XLIX. </b></td><td><a href="#ch49">A<small> CHECK</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>L. </b></td><td><a href="#ch50">T<small>HE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>LI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch51">M<small>AINLY ABOUT BOOTS</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>LII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch52">O<small>N THE TRAIL AGAIN</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>LIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch53">T<small>HE KETTLE METHOD</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>LIV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch54">A<small>DAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>LV. </b></td><td><a href="#ch55">C<small>LEARING THE AIR</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>LVI. </b></td><td><a href="#ch56">I<small>N WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>LVII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch57">M<small>R. DOWNING MOVES</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>LVIII. </b></td><td><a href="#ch58">T<small>HE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK</small></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>LIX. </b></td><td><a href="#ch59">S<small>EDLEIGH <i>v.</i> WRYKYN</small></a></td></tr> + +</table> + +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<h2>BY T. M. R. WHITWELL</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus1"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +“A<small>RE YOU THE M. JACKSON, THEN, WHO HAD AN AVERAGE +OF FIFTY-ONE POINT NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?”</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus2"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +T<small>HE DARK WATERS WERE LASHED INTO A MAELSTROM</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus3"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +“D<small>ON’T <i>LAUGH</i>, YOU GRINNING APE”</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus4"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +“D<small>O—YOU—SEE, YOU FRIGHTFUL KID?”</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus5"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +“W<small>HAT’S ALL THIS ABOUT JIMMY WYATT?”</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus6"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +M<small>IKE AND THE BALL ARRIVED ALMOST SIMULTANEOUSLY</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus7"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +“W<small>HAT THE DICKENS ARE YOU DOING HERE?”</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus8"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +P<small>SMITH SEIZED AND EMPTIED JELLICOE’S JUG OVER SPILLER</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus9"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +“W<small>HY DID YOU SAY YOU DIDN’T PLAY CRICKET?” HE ASKED</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus10"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +“W<small>HO—” HE SHOUTED, “</small><i>WHO</i><small> HAS DONE THIS?”</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus11"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +“D<small>ID—YOU—PUT—THAT—BOOT—THERE, SMITH?”</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<a href="#illus12"><big><big>*</big></big></a></td><td> +M<small>IKE DROPPED THE SOOT-COVERED OBJECT IN THE FENDER</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<h3 class="chap"> +<a name="ch1"> +CHAPTER I<br/><br/> +MIKE</a></h3> + +<p>It was a morning in the middle of +April, and the Jackson family were consequently breakfasting +in comparative silence. The cricket season had +not begun, and except during the cricket season they +were in the habit of devoting their powerful minds +at breakfast almost exclusively to the task of victualling +against the labours of the day. In May, June, +July, and August the silence was broken. The three +grown-up Jacksons played regularly in first-class +cricket, and there was always keen competition among +their brothers and sisters for the copy of the <i>Sportsman</i> +which was to be found on the hall table with the letters. +Whoever got it usually gloated over it in silence till +urged wrathfully by the multitude to let them know +what had happened; when it would appear that Joe had +notched his seventh century, or that Reggie had been +run out when he was just getting set, or, as sometimes +occurred, that that ass Frank had dropped Fry or Hayward +in the slips before he had scored, with the result +that the spared expert had made a couple of hundred +and was still going strong.</p> + +<p>In such a case the criticisms of the +family circle, particularly of the smaller Jackson +sisters, were so breezy and unrestrained that Mrs. +Jackson generally felt it necessary to apply the closure. +Indeed, Marjory Jackson, aged fourteen, had on three +several occasions been fined pudding at lunch for +her caustic comments on the batting of her brother +Reggie in important fixtures. Cricket was a tradition +in the family, and the ladies, unable to their sorrow +to play the game themselves, were resolved that it +should not be their fault if the standard was not +kept up.</p> + +<p>On this particular morning silence +reigned. A deep gasp from some small Jackson, +wrestling with bread-and-milk, and an occasional remark +from Mr. Jackson on the letters he was reading, alone +broke it.</p> + +<p>“Mike’s late again,” +said Mrs. Jackson plaintively, at last.</p> + +<p>“He’s getting up,” +said Marjory. “I went in to see what he +was doing, and he was asleep. So,” she +added with a satanic chuckle, “I squeezed a +sponge over him. He swallowed an awful lot, and +then he woke up, and tried to catch me, so he’s +certain to be down soon.”</p> + +<p>“Marjory!”</p> + +<p>“Well, he was on his back with +his mouth wide open. I had to. He was snoring +like anything.”</p> + +<p>“You might have choked him.”</p> + +<p>“I did,” said Marjory +with satisfaction. “Jam, please, Phyllis, +you pig.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Jackson looked up.</p> + +<p>“Mike will have to be more punctual when he +goes to Wrykyn,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Oh, father, is Mike going to Wrykyn?” +asked Marjory. “When?”</p> + +<p>“Next term,” said Mr. +Jackson. “I’ve just heard from Mr. +Wain,” he added across the table to Mrs. Jackson. +“The house is full, but he is turning a small +room into an extra dormitory, so he can take Mike +after all.”</p> + +<p>The first comment on this momentous +piece of news came from Bob Jackson. Bob was +eighteen. The following term would be his last +at Wrykyn, and, having won through so far without +the infliction of a small brother, he disliked the +prospect of not being allowed to finish as he had +begun.</p> + +<p>“I say!” he said. “What?”</p> + +<p>“He ought to have gone before,” +said Mr. Jackson. “He’s fifteen. +Much too old for that private school. He has +had it all his own way there, and it isn’t good +for him.”</p> + +<p>“He’s got cheek enough for ten,” +agreed Bob.</p> + +<p>“Wrykyn will do him a world of good.”</p> + +<p>“We aren’t in the same house. That’s +one comfort.”</p> + +<p>Bob was in Donaldson’s. +It softened the blow to a certain extent that Mike +should be going to Wain’s. He had the same +feeling for Mike that most boys of eighteen have for +their fifteen-year-old brothers. He was fond +of him in the abstract, but preferred him at a distance.</p> + +<p>Marjory gave tongue again. She +had rescued the jam from Phyllis, who had shown signs +of finishing it, and was now at liberty to turn her +mind to less pressing matters. Mike was her special +ally, and anything that affected his fortunes affected +her.</p> + +<p>“Hooray! Mike’s going +to Wrykyn. I bet he gets into the first eleven +his first term.”</p> + +<p>“Considering there are eight +old colours left,” said Bob loftily, “besides +heaps of last year’s seconds, it’s hardly +likely that a kid like Mike’ll get a look in. +He might get his third, if he sweats.”</p> + +<p>The aspersion stung Marjory.</p> + +<p>“I bet he gets in before you, anyway,” +she said.</p> + +<p>Bob disdained to reply. He was +among those heaps of last year’s seconds to +whom he had referred. He was a sound bat, though +lacking the brilliance of his elder brothers, and +he fancied that his cap was a certainty this season. +Last year he had been tried once or twice. This +year it should be all right.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jackson intervened.</p> + +<p>“Go on with your breakfast, +Marjory,” she said. “You mustn’t +say ‘I bet’ so much.”</p> + +<p>Marjory bit off a section of her slice of bread-and-jam.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow, I bet he does,” she muttered +truculently through it.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of footsteps in +the passage outside. The door opened, and the +missing member of the family appeared. Mike Jackson +was tall for his age. His figure was thin and +wiry. His arms and legs looked a shade too long +for his body. He was evidently going to be very +tall some day. In face, he was curiously like +his brother Joe, whose appearance is familiar to every +one who takes an interest in first-class cricket. +The resemblance was even more marked on the cricket +field. Mike had Joe’s batting style to the +last detail. He was a pocket edition of his century-making +brother. “Hullo,” he said, “sorry +I’m late.”</p> + +<p>This was mere stereo. He had +made the same remark nearly every morning since the +beginning of the holidays.</p> + +<p>“All right, Marjory, you little +beast,” was his reference to the sponge incident.</p> + +<p>His third remark was of a practical nature.</p> + +<p>“I say, what’s under that dish?”</p> + +<p>“Mike,” began Mr. Jackson—this +again was stereo—“you really must +learn to be more punctual——”</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by a chorus.</p> + +<p>“Mike, you’re going to Wrykyn next term,” +shouted Marjory.</p> + +<p>“Mike, father’s just had +a letter to say you’re going to Wrykyn next +term.” From Phyllis.</p> + +<p>“Mike, you’re going to Wrykyn.” +From Ella.</p> + +<p>Gladys Maud Evangeline, aged three, +obliged with a solo of her own composition, in six-eight +time, as follows: “Mike Wryky. Mike +Wryky. Mike Wryke Wryke Wryke Mike Wryke Wryke +Mike Wryke Mike Wryke.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, put a green baize cloth over that kid, +somebody,” groaned Bob.</p> + +<p>Whereat Gladys Maud, having fixed +him with a chilly stare for some seconds, suddenly +drew a long breath, and squealed deafeningly for more +milk.</p> + +<p>Mike looked round the table. +It was a great moment. He rose to it with the +utmost dignity.</p> + +<p>“Good,” he said. “I say, what’s +under that dish?”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>After breakfast, Mike and Marjory +went off together to the meadow at the end of the +garden. Saunders, the professional, assisted by +the gardener’s boy, was engaged in putting up +the net. Mr. Jackson believed in private coaching; +and every spring since Joe, the eldest of the family, +had been able to use a bat a man had come down from +the Oval to teach him the best way to do so. +Each of the boys in turn had passed from spectators +to active participants in the net practice in the +meadow. For several years now Saunders had been +the chosen man, and his attitude towards the Jacksons +was that of the Faithful Old Retainer in melodrama. +Mike was his special favourite. He felt that in +him he had material of the finest order to work upon. +There was nothing the matter with Bob. In Bob +he would turn out a good, sound article. Bob +would be a Blue in his third or fourth year, and probably +a creditable performer among the rank and file of a +county team later on. But he was not a cricket +genius, like Mike. Saunders would lie awake at +night sometimes thinking of the possibilities that +were in Mike. The strength could only come with +years, but the style was there already. Joe’s +style, with improvements.</p> + +<p>Mike put on his pads; and Marjory +walked with the professional to the bowling crease.</p> + +<p>“Mike’s going to Wrykyn +next term, Saunders,” she said. “All +the boys were there, you know. So was father, +ages ago.”</p> + +<p>“Is he, miss? I was thinking he would be +soon.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think he’ll get into the school +team?”</p> + +<p>“School team, miss! Master +Mike get into a school team! He’ll be playing +for England in another eight years. That’s +what he’ll be playing for.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but I meant next term. +It would be a record if he did. Even Joe only +got in after he’d been at school two years. +Don’t you think he might, Saunders? He’s +awfully good, isn’t he? He’s better +than Bob, isn’t he? And Bob’s almost +certain to get in this term.”</p> + +<p>Saunders looked a little doubtful.</p> + +<p> +“Next term!” he said. “Well, you see, miss, it’s this way. It’s all there, in a +manner of speaking, with Master Mike. He’s got as much style as Mr. Joe’s got, +every bit. The whole thing is, you see, miss, you get these young gentlemen of +eighteen, and nineteen perhaps, and it stands to reason they’re stronger. +There’s a young gentleman, perhaps, doesn’t know as much about what I call real +playing as Master Mike’s forgotten; but then he can hit ’em harder when he does +hit ’em, and that’s where the runs come in. They aren’t going to play Master +Mike because he’ll be in the England team when he leaves school. They’ll give +the cap to somebody that can make a few then and there.” +</p> + +<p>“But Mike’s jolly strong.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, I’m not saying it +mightn’t be, miss. I was only saying don’t +count on it, so you won’t be disappointed if +it doesn’t happen. It’s quite likely +that it will, only all I say is don’t count on +it. I only hope that they won’t knock all +the style out of him before they’re done with +him. You know these school professionals, miss.”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t, Saunders. What are +they like?”</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s too much +of the come-right-out-at-everything about ’em +for my taste. Seem to think playing forward the +alpha and omugger of batting. They’ll make +him pat balls back to the bowler which he’d cut +for twos and threes if he was left to himself. +Still, we’ll hope for the best, miss. Ready, +Master Mike? Play.”</p> + +<p>As Saunders had said, it was all there. +Of Mike’s style there could be no doubt. +To-day, too, he was playing more strongly than usual. +Marjory had to run to the end of the meadow to fetch +one straight drive. “He hit that hard enough, +didn’t he, Saunders?” she asked, as she +returned the ball.</p> + +<p>“If he could keep on doing ones +like that, miss,” said the professional, “they’d +have him in the team before you could say knife.”</p> + +<p>Marjory sat down again beside the +net, and watched more hopefully.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"> +<a name="ch2"> +CHAPTER II<br/><br/> +THE JOURNEY DOWN</a></h3> + +<p>The seeing off of Mike on the last +day of the holidays was an imposing spectacle, a sort +of pageant. Going to a public school, especially +at the beginning of the summer term, is no great hardship, +more particularly when the departing hero has a brother +on the verge of the school eleven and three other +brothers playing for counties; and Mike seemed in +no way disturbed by the prospect. Mothers, however, +to the end of time will foster a secret fear that +their sons will be bullied at a big school, and Mrs. +Jackson’s anxious look lent a fine solemnity +to the proceedings.</p> + +<p>And as Marjory, Phyllis, and Ella +invariably broke down when the time of separation +arrived, and made no exception to their rule on the +present occasion, a suitable gloom was the keynote +of the gathering. Mr. Jackson seemed to bear +the parting with fortitude, as did Mike’s Uncle +John (providentially roped in at the eleventh hour +on his way to Scotland, in time to come down with +a handsome tip). To their coarse-fibred minds +there was nothing pathetic or tragic about the affair +at all. (At the very moment when the train began to +glide out of the station Uncle John was heard to remark +that, in his opinion, these Bocks weren’t a +patch on the old shaped Larranaga.) Among others present +might have been noticed Saunders, practising late cuts +rather coyly with a walking-stick in the background; +the village idiot, who had rolled up on the chance +of a dole; Gladys Maud Evangeline’s nurse, smiling +vaguely; and Gladys Maud Evangeline herself, frankly +bored with the whole business.</p> + +<p>The train gathered speed. The +air was full of last messages. Uncle John said +on second thoughts he wasn’t sure these Bocks +weren’t half a bad smoke after all. Gladys +Maud cried, because she had taken a sudden dislike +to the village idiot; and Mike settled himself in the +corner and opened a magazine.</p> + +<p>He was alone in the carriage. +Bob, who had been spending the last week of the holidays +with an aunt further down the line, was to board the +train at East Wobsley, and the brothers were to make +a state entry into Wrykyn together. Meanwhile, +Mike was left to his milk chocolate, his magazines, +and his reflections.</p> + +<p>The latter were not numerous, nor +profound. He was excited. He had been petitioning +the home authorities for the past year to be allowed +to leave his private school and go to Wrykyn, and now +the thing had come about. He wondered what sort +of a house Wain’s was, and whether they had +any chance of the cricket cup. According to Bob +they had no earthly; but then Bob only recognised +one house, Donaldson’s. He wondered if +Bob would get his first eleven cap this year, and if +he himself were likely to do anything at cricket. +Marjory had faithfully reported every word Saunders +had said on the subject, but Bob had been so careful +to point out his insignificance when compared with +the humblest Wrykynian that the professional’s +glowing prophecies had not had much effect. It +might be true that some day he would play for England, +but just at present he felt he would exchange his place +in the team for one in the Wrykyn third eleven. +A sort of mist enveloped everything Wrykynian. +It seemed almost hopeless to try and compete with +these unknown experts. On the other hand, there +was Bob. Bob, by all accounts, was on the verge +of the first eleven, and he was nothing special.</p> + +<p>While he was engaged on these reflections, +the train drew up at a small station. Opposite +the door of Mike’s compartment was standing a +boy of about Mike’s size, though evidently some +years older. He had a sharp face, with rather +a prominent nose; and a pair of pince-nez gave him +a supercilious look. He wore a bowler hat, and +carried a small portmanteau.</p> + +<p>He opened the door, and took the seat +opposite to Mike, whom he scrutinised for a moment +rather after the fashion of a naturalist examining +some new and unpleasant variety of beetle. He +seemed about to make some remark, but, instead, got +up and looked through the open window.</p> + +<p>“Where’s that porter?” Mike heard +him say.</p> + +<p>The porter came skimming down the platform at that +moment.</p> + +<p>“Porter.”</p> + +<p>“Sir?”</p> + +<p>“Are those frightful boxes of mine in all right?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Because, you know, there’ll +be a frightful row if any of them get lost.”</p> + +<p>“No chance of that, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Here you are, then.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p> + +<p>The youth drew his head and shoulders +in, stared at Mike again, and finally sat down. +Mike noticed that he had nothing to read, and wondered +if he wanted anything; but he did not feel equal to +offering him one of his magazines. He did not +like the looks of him particularly. Judging by +appearances, he seemed to carry enough side for three. +If he wanted a magazine, thought Mike, let him ask +for it.</p> + +<p>The other made no overtures, and at +the next stop got out. That explained his magazineless +condition. He was only travelling a short way.</p> + +<p>“Good business,” said +Mike to himself. He had all the Englishman’s +love of a carriage to himself.</p> + +<p>The train was just moving out of the +station when his eye was suddenly caught by the stranger’s +bag, lying snugly in the rack.</p> + +<p>And here, I regret to say, Mike acted +from the best motives, which is always fatal.</p> + +<p>He realised in an instant what had +happened. The fellow had forgotten his bag.</p> + +<p>Mike had not been greatly fascinated +by the stranger’s looks; but, after all, the +most supercilious person on earth has a right to his +own property. Besides, he might have been quite +a nice fellow when you got to know him. Anyhow, +the bag had better be returned at once. The train +was already moving quite fast, and Mike’s compartment +was nearing the end of the platform.</p> + +<p>He snatched the bag from the rack +and hurled it out of the window. (Porter Robinson, +who happened to be in the line of fire, escaped with +a flesh wound.) Then he sat down again with the inward +glow of satisfaction which comes to one when one has +risen successfully to a sudden emergency.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The glow lasted till the next stoppage, +which did not occur for a good many miles. Then +it ceased abruptly, for the train had scarcely come +to a standstill when the opening above the door was +darkened by a head and shoulders. The head was +surmounted by a bowler, and a pair of pince-nez gleamed +from the shadow.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, I say,” said the +stranger. “Have you changed carriages, or +what?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Then, dash it, where’s my frightful bag?”</p> + +<p>Life teems with embarrassing situations. This +was one of them.</p> + +<p>“The fact is,” said Mike, “I chucked +it out.”</p> + +<p>“Chucked it out! what do you mean? When?”</p> + +<p>“At the last station.”</p> + +<p>The guard blew his whistle, and the other jumped into +the carriage.</p> + +<p>“I thought you’d got out +there for good,” explained Mike. “I’m +awfully sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Where <i>is</i> the bag?”</p> + +<p>“On the platform at the last station. It +hit a porter.”</p> + +<p>Against his will, for he wished to +treat the matter with fitting solemnity, Mike grinned +at the recollection. The look on Porter Robinson’s +face as the bag took him in the small of the back had +been funny, though not intentionally so.</p> + +<p>The bereaved owner disapproved of this levity; and +said as much.</p> + +<p>“Don’t <i>grin</i>, you +little beast,” he shouted. “There’s +nothing to laugh at. You go chucking bags that +don’t belong to you out of the window, and then +you have the frightful cheek to grin about it.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t that,” +said Mike hurriedly. “Only the porter looked +awfully funny when it hit him.”</p> + +<p>“Dash the porter! What’s +going to happen about my bag? I can’t get +out for half a second to buy a magazine without your +flinging my things about the platform. What you +want is a frightful kicking.”</p> + +<p>The situation was becoming difficult. +But fortunately at this moment the train stopped once +again; and, looking out of the window, Mike saw a +board with East Wobsley upon it in large letters. +A moment later Bob’s head appeared in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, there you are,” said Bob.</p> + +<p>His eye fell upon Mike’s companion.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Gazeka!” he exclaimed. +“Where did you spring from? Do you know +my brother? He’s coming to Wrykyn this term. +By the way, rather lucky you’ve met. He’s +in your house. Firby-Smith’s head of Wain’s, +Mike.”</p> + +<p>Mike gathered that Gazeka and Firby-Smith +were one and the same person. He grinned again. +Firby-Smith continued to look ruffled, though not +aggressive.</p> + +<p>“Oh, are you in Wain’s?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I say, Bob,” said Mike, “I’ve +made rather an ass of myself.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally.”</p> + +<p>“I mean, what happened was this. +I chucked Firby-Smith’s portmanteau out of the +window, thinking he’d got out, only he hadn’t +really, and it’s at a station miles back.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a bit of a rotter, +aren’t you? Had it got your name and address +on it, Gazeka?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, then it’s certain +to be all right. It’s bound to turn up some +time. They’ll send it on by the next train, +and you’ll get it either to-night or to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Frightful nuisance, all the +same. Lots of things in it I wanted.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, never mind, it’s +all right. I say, what have you been doing in +the holidays? I didn’t know you lived on +this line at all.”</p> + +<p>From this point onwards Mike was out +of the conversation altogether. Bob and Firby-Smith +talked of Wrykyn, discussing events of the previous +term of which Mike had never heard. Names came +into their conversation which were entirely new to +him. He realised that school politics were being +talked, and that contributions from him to the dialogue +were not required. He took up his magazine again, +listening the while. They were discussing Wain’s +now. The name Wyatt cropped up with some frequency. +Wyatt was apparently something of a character. +Mention was made of rows in which he had played a part +in the past.</p> + +<p>“It must be pretty rotten for +him,” said Bob. “He and Wain never +get on very well, and yet they have to be together, +holidays as well as term. Pretty bad having a +step-father at all—I shouldn’t care +to—and when your house-master and your +step-father are the same man, it’s a bit thick.”</p> + +<p>“Frightful,” agreed Firby-Smith.</p> + +<p>“I swear, if I were in Wyatt’s +place, I should rot about like anything. It isn’t +as if he’d anything to look forward to when he +leaves. He told me last term that Wain had got +a nomination for him in some beastly bank, and that +he was going into it directly after the end of this +term. Rather rough on a chap like Wyatt. +Good cricketer and footballer, I mean, and all that +sort of thing. It’s just the sort of life +he’ll hate most. Hullo, here we are.”</p> + +<p>Mike looked out of the window. It was Wrykyn +at last.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch3"> +CHAPTER III<br/><br/> +MIKE FINDS A FRIENDLY NATIVE</a></h3> + +<p>Mike was surprised to find, on alighting, +that the platform was entirely free from Wrykynians. +In all the stories he had read the whole school came +back by the same train, and, having smashed in one +another’s hats and chaffed the porters, made +their way to the school buildings in a solid column. +But here they were alone.</p> + +<p>A remark of Bob’s to Firby-Smith +explained this. “Can’t make out why +none of the fellows came back by this train,” +he said. “Heaps of them must come by this +line, and it’s the only Christian train they +run,”</p> + +<p>“Don’t want to get here +before the last minute they can possibly manage. +Silly idea. I suppose they think there’d +be nothing to do.”</p> + +<p>“What shall <i>we</i> do?” +said Bob. “Come and have some tea at Cook’s?”</p> + +<p>“All right.”</p> + +<p>Bob looked at Mike. There was +no disguising the fact that he would be in the way; +but how convey this fact delicately to him?</p> + +<p>“Look here, Mike,” he +said, with a happy inspiration, “Firby-Smith +and I are just going to get some tea. I think +you’d better nip up to the school. Probably +Wain will want to see you, and tell you all about +things, which is your dorm. and so on. See you +later,” he concluded airily. “Any +one’ll tell you the way to the school. Go +straight on. They’ll send your luggage +on later. So long.” And his sole prop +in this world of strangers departed, leaving him to +find his way for himself.</p> + +<p>There is no subject on which opinions +differ so widely as this matter of finding the way +to a place. To the man who knows, it is simplicity +itself. Probably he really does imagine that he +goes straight on, ignoring the fact that for him the +choice of three roads, all more or less straight, +has no perplexities. The man who does not know +feels as if he were in a maze.</p> + +<p>Mike started out boldly, and lost +his way. Go in which direction he would, he always +seemed to arrive at a square with a fountain and an +equestrian statue in its centre. On the fourth +repetition of this feat he stopped in a disheartened +way, and looked about him. He was beginning to +feel bitter towards Bob. The man might at least +have shown him where to get some tea.</p> + +<p>At this moment a ray of hope shone +through the gloom. Crossing the square was a +short, thick-set figure clad in grey flannel trousers, +a blue blazer, and a straw hat with a coloured band. +Plainly a Wrykynian. Mike made for him.</p> + +<p>“Can you tell me the way to +the school, please,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’re going to the +school,” said the other. He had a pleasant, +square-jawed face, reminiscent of a good-tempered bull-dog, +and a pair of very deep-set grey eyes which somehow +put Mike at his ease. There was something singularly +cool and genial about them. He felt that they +saw the humour in things, and that their owner was +a person who liked most people and whom most people +liked.</p> + +<p>“You look rather lost,” +said the stranger. “Been hunting for it +long?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Which house do you want?”</p> + +<p>“Wain’s.”</p> + +<p>“Wain’s? Then you’ve +come to the right man this time. What I don’t +know about Wain’s isn’t worth knowing.”</p> + +<p>“Are you there, too?”</p> + +<p>“Am I not! Term <i>and</i> holidays. +There’s no close season for me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, are you Wyatt, then?” asked Mike.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, this is fame. How +did you know my name, as the ass in the detective +story always says to the detective, who’s seen +it in the lining of his hat? Who’s been +talking about me?”</p> + +<p>“I heard my brother saying something about you +in the train.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s your brother?”</p> + +<p>“Jackson. He’s in Donaldson’s.”</p> + +<p>“I know. A stout fellow. +So you’re the newest make of Jackson, latest +model, with all the modern improvements? Are there +any more of you?”</p> + +<p>“Not brothers,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Pity. You can’t +quite raise a team, then? Are you a sort of young +Tyldesley, too?”</p> + +<p>“I played a bit at my last school. +Only a private school, you know,” added Mike +modestly.</p> + +<p>“Make any runs? What was your best score?”</p> + +<p>“Hundred and twenty-three,” +said Mike awkwardly. “It was only against +kids, you know.” He was in terror lest he +should seem to be bragging.</p> + +<p>“That’s pretty useful. Any more centuries?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mike, shuffling.</p> + +<p>“How many?”</p> + +<p>“Seven altogether. You +know, it was really awfully rotten bowling. And +I was a good bit bigger than most of the chaps there. +And my pater always has a pro. down in the Easter +holidays, which gave me a bit of an advantage.”</p> + +<p>“All the same, seven centuries +isn’t so dusty against any bowling. We +shall want some batting in the house this term. +Look here, I was just going to have some tea. +You come along, too.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thanks awfully,” +said Mike. “My brother and Firby-Smith have +gone to a place called Cook’s.”</p> + +<p>“The old Gazeka? I didn’t +know he lived in your part of the world. He’s +head of Wain’s.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,” said Mike. +“Why is he called Gazeka?” he asked after +a pause.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think he looks +like one? What did you think of him?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t speak to him +much,” said Mike cautiously. It is always +delicate work answering a question like this unless +one has some sort of an inkling as to the views of +the questioner.</p> + +<p>“He’s all right,” +said Wyatt, answering for himself. “He’s +got a habit of talking to one as if he were a prince +of the blood dropping a gracious word to one of the +three Small-Heads at the Hippodrome, but that’s +his misfortune. We all have our troubles. +That’s his. Let’s go in here. +It’s too far to sweat to Cook’s.”</p> + +<p>It was about a mile from the tea-shop +to the school. Mike’s first impression +on arriving at the school grounds was of his smallness +and insignificance. Everything looked so big—the +buildings, the grounds, everything. He felt out +of the picture. He was glad that he had met Wyatt. +To make his entrance into this strange land alone would +have been more of an ordeal than he would have cared +to face.</p> + +<p>“That’s Wain’s,” +said Wyatt, pointing to one of half a dozen large +houses which lined the road on the south side of the +cricket field. Mike followed his finger, and +took in the size of his new home.</p> + +<p>“I say, it’s jolly big,” +he said. “How many fellows are there in +it?”</p> + +<p>“Thirty-one this term, I believe.”</p> + +<p>“That’s more than there were at King-Hall’s.”</p> + +<p>“What’s King-Hall’s?”</p> + +<p>“The private school I was at. At Emsworth.”</p> + +<p>Emsworth seemed very remote and unreal to him as he +spoke.</p> + +<p>They skirted the cricket field, walking +along the path that divided the two terraces. +The Wrykyn playing-fields were formed of a series of +huge steps, cut out of the hill. At the top of +the hill came the school. On the first terrace +was a sort of informal practice ground, where, though +no games were played on it, there was a good deal of +punting and drop-kicking in the winter and fielding-practice +in the summer. The next terrace was the biggest +of all, and formed the first eleven cricket ground, +a beautiful piece of turf, a shade too narrow for +its length, bounded on the terrace side by a sharply +sloping bank, some fifteen feet deep, and on the other +by the precipice leading to the next terrace. +At the far end of the ground stood the pavilion, and +beside it a little ivy-covered rabbit-hutch for the +scorers. Old Wrykynians always claimed that it +was the prettiest school ground in England. It +certainly had the finest view. From the verandah +of the pavilion you could look over three counties.</p> + +<p>Wain’s house wore an empty and +desolate appearance. There were signs of activity, +however, inside; and a smell of soap and warm water +told of preparations recently completed.</p> + +<p>Wyatt took Mike into the matron’s +room, a small room opening out of the main passage.</p> + +<p>“This is Jackson,” he +said. “Which dormitory is he in, Miss Payne?”</p> + +<p>The matron consulted a paper.</p> + +<p>“He’s in yours, Wyatt.”</p> + +<p>“Good business. Who’s +in the other bed? There are going to be three +of us, aren’t there?”</p> + +<p>“Fereira was to have slept there, +but we have just heard that he is not coming back +this term. He has had to go on a sea-voyage for +his health.”</p> + +<p>“Seems queer any one actually +taking the trouble to keep Fereira in the world,” +said Wyatt. “I’ve often thought of +giving him Rough On Rats myself. Come along, +Jackson, and I’ll show you the room.”</p> + +<p>They went along the passage, and up a flight of stairs.</p> + +<p>“Here you are,” said Wyatt.</p> + +<p>It was a fair-sized room. The +window, heavily barred, looked out over a large garden.</p> + +<p>“I used to sleep here alone +last term,” said Wyatt, “but the house +is so full now they’ve turned it into a dormitory.”</p> + +<p>“I say, I wish these bars weren’t +here. It would be rather a rag to get out of +the window on to that wall at night, and hop down into +the garden and explore,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>Wyatt looked at him curiously, and moved to the window.</p> + +<p>“I’m not going to let +you do it, of course,” he said, “because +you’d go getting caught, and dropped on, which +isn’t good for one in one’s first term; +but just to amuse you——”</p> + +<p>He jerked at the middle bar, and the +next moment he was standing with it in his hand, and +the way to the garden was clear.</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“That’s simply an object-lesson, +you know,” said Wyatt, replacing the bar, and +pushing the screws back into their putty. “I +get out at night myself because I think my health +needs it. Besides, it’s my last term, anyhow, +so it doesn’t matter what I do. But if I +find you trying to cut out in the small hours, there’ll +be trouble. See?”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Mike, +reluctantly. “But I wish you’d let +me.”</p> + +<p>“Not if I know it. Promise you won’t +try it on.”</p> + +<p>“All right. But, I say, what do you do +out there?”</p> + +<p>“I shoot at cats with an air-pistol, +the beauty of which is that even if you hit them it +doesn’t hurt—simply keeps them bright +and interested in life; and if you miss you’ve +had all the fun anyhow. Have you ever shot at +a rocketing cat? Finest mark you can have. +Society’s latest craze. Buy a pistol and +see life.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you’d let me come.”</p> + +<p>“I daresay you do. Not +much, however. Now, if you like, I’ll take +you over the rest of the school. You’ll +have to see it sooner or later, so you may as well +get it over at once.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch4"> +CHAPTER IV<br/><br/> +AT THE NETS</a></h3> + +<p>There are few better things in life +than a public school summer term. The winter +term is good, especially towards the end, and there +are points, though not many, about the Easter term: +but it is in the summer that one really appreciates +public school life. The freedom of it, after +the restrictions of even the most easy-going private +school, is intoxicating. The change is almost +as great as that from public school to ’Varsity.</p> + +<p>For Mike the path was made particularly +easy. The only drawback to going to a big school +for the first time is the fact that one is made to +feel so very small and inconspicuous. New boys +who have been leading lights at their private schools +feel it acutely for the first week. At one time +it was the custom, if we may believe writers of a +generation or so back, for boys to take quite an embarrassing +interest in the newcomer. He was asked a rain +of questions, and was, generally, in the very centre +of the stage. Nowadays an absolute lack of interest +is the fashion. A new boy arrives, and there he +is, one of a crowd.</p> + +<p>Mike was saved this salutary treatment +to a large extent, at first by virtue of the greatness +of his family, and, later, by his own performances +on the cricket field. His three elder brothers +were objects of veneration to most Wrykynians, and +Mike got a certain amount of reflected glory from +them. The brother of first-class cricketers has +a dignity of his own. Then Bob was a help. +He was on the verge of the cricket team and had been +the school full-back for two seasons. Mike found +that people came up and spoke to him, anxious to know +if he were Jackson’s brother; and became friendly +when he replied in the affirmative. Influential +relations are a help in every stage of life.</p> + +<p>It was Wyatt who gave him his first +chance at cricket. There were nets on the first +afternoon of term for all old colours of the three +teams and a dozen or so of those most likely to fill +the vacant places. Wyatt was there, of course. +He had got his first eleven cap in the previous season +as a mighty hitter and a fair slow bowler. Mike +met him crossing the field with his cricket bag.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, where are you off to?” +asked Wyatt. “Coming to watch the nets?”</p> + +<p>Mike had no particular programme for +the afternoon. Junior cricket had not begun, +and it was a little difficult to know how to fill in +the time.</p> + +<p>“I tell you what,” said +Wyatt, “nip into the house and shove on some +things, and I’ll try and get Burgess to let you +have a knock later on.”</p> + +<p>This suited Mike admirably. A +quarter of an hour later he was sitting at the back +of the first eleven net, watching the practice.</p> + +<p>Burgess, the captain of the Wrykyn +team, made no pretence of being a bat. He was +the school fast bowler and concentrated his energies +on that department of the game. He sometimes +took ten minutes at the wicket after everybody else +had had an innings, but it was to bowl that he came +to the nets.</p> + +<p>He was bowling now to one of the old +colours whose name Mike did not know. Wyatt and +one of the professionals were the other two bowlers. +Two nets away Firby-Smith, who had changed his pince-nez +for a pair of huge spectacles, was performing rather +ineffectively against some very bad bowling. +Mike fixed his attention on the first eleven man.</p> + +<p>He was evidently a good bat. +There was style and power in his batting. He +had a way of gliding Burgess’s fastest to leg +which Mike admired greatly. He was succeeded +at the end of a quarter of an hour by another eleven +man, and then Bob appeared.</p> + +<p>It was soon made evident that this +was not Bob’s day. Nobody is at his best +on the first day of term; but Bob was worse than he +had any right to be. He scratched forward at +nearly everything, and when Burgess, who had been +resting, took up the ball again, he had each stump +uprooted in a regular series in seven balls. Once +he skied one of Wyatt’s slows over the net behind +the wicket; and Mike, jumping up, caught him neatly.</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Bob austerely, +as Mike returned the ball to him. He seemed depressed.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of the afternoon, +Wyatt went up to Burgess.</p> + +<p>“Burgess,” he said, “see +that kid sitting behind the net?”</p> + +<p>“With the naked eye,” said Burgess. +“Why?”</p> + +<p>“He’s just come to Wain’s. +He’s Bob Jackson’s brother, and I’ve +a sort of idea that he’s a bit of a bat. +I told him I’d ask you if he could have a knock. +Why not send him in at the end net? There’s +nobody there now.”</p> + +<p>Burgess’s amiability off the +field equalled his ruthlessness when bowling.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said. +“Only if you think that I’m going to sweat +to bowl to him, you’re making a fatal error.”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t do a thing. +Just sit and watch. I rather fancy this kid’s +something special.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mike put on Wyatt’s pads and +gloves, borrowed his bat, and walked round into the +net.</p> + +<p>“Not in a funk, are you?” asked Wyatt, +as he passed.</p> + +<p>Mike grinned. The fact was that +he had far too good an opinion of himself to be nervous. +An entirely modest person seldom makes a good batsman. +Batting is one of those things which demand first and +foremost a thorough belief in oneself. It need +not be aggressive, but it must be there.</p> + +<p>Wyatt and the professional were the +bowlers. Mike had seen enough of Wyatt’s +bowling to know that it was merely ordinary “slow +tosh,” and the professional did not look as +difficult as Saunders. The first half-dozen balls +he played carefully. He was on trial, and he meant +to take no risks. Then the professional over-pitched +one slightly on the off. Mike jumped out, and +got the full face of the bat on to it. The ball +hit one of the ropes of the net, and nearly broke it.</p> + +<p>“How’s that?” said +Wyatt, with the smile of an impresario on the first +night of a successful piece.</p> + +<p>“Not bad,” admitted Burgess.</p> + +<p>A few moments later he was still more +complimentary. He got up and took a ball himself.</p> + +<p>Mike braced himself up as Burgess +began his run. This time he was more than a trifle +nervous. The bowling he had had so far had been +tame. This would be the real ordeal.</p> + +<p>As the ball left Burgess’s hand +he began instinctively to shape for a forward stroke. +Then suddenly he realised that the thing was going +to be a yorker, and banged his bat down in the block +just as the ball arrived. An unpleasant sensation +as of having been struck by a thunderbolt was succeeded +by a feeling of relief that he had kept the ball out +of his wicket. There are easier things in the +world than stopping a fast yorker.</p> + +<p>“Well played,” said Burgess.</p> + +<p>Mike felt like a successful general +receiving the thanks of the nation.</p> + +<p>The fact that Burgess’s next +ball knocked middle and off stumps out of the ground +saddened him somewhat; but this was the last tragedy +that occurred. He could not do much with the +bowling beyond stopping it and feeling repetitions +of the thunderbolt experience, but he kept up his +end; and a short conversation which he had with Burgess +at the end of his innings was full of encouragement +to one skilled in reading between the lines.</p> + +<p>“Thanks awfully,” said +Mike, referring to the square manner in which the +captain had behaved in letting him bat.</p> + +<p>“What school were you at before +you came here?” asked Burgess.</p> + +<p>“A private school in Hampshire,” +said Mike. “King-Hall’s. At a +place called Emsworth.”</p> + +<p>“Get much cricket there?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, a good lot. One of +the masters, a chap called Westbrook, was an awfully +good slow bowler.”</p> + +<p>Burgess nodded.</p> + +<p>“You don’t run away, which is something,” +he said.</p> + +<p>Mike turned purple with pleasure at +this stately compliment. Then, having waited +for further remarks, but gathering from the captain’s +silence that the audience was at an end, he proceeded +to unbuckle his pads. Wyatt overtook him on his +way to the house.</p> + +<p>“Well played,” he said. +“I’d no idea you were such hot stuff. +You’re a regular pro.”</p> + +<p>“I say,” said Mike gratefully, +“it was most awfully decent of you getting Burgess +to let me go in. It was simply ripping of you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right. +If you don’t get pushed a bit here you stay for +ages in the hundredth game with the cripples and the +kids. Now you’ve shown them what you can +do you ought to get into the Under Sixteen team straight +away. Probably into the third, too.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, that would be all right.”</p> + +<p>“I asked Burgess afterwards +what he thought of your batting, and he said, ‘Not +bad.’ But he says that about everything. +It’s his highest form of praise. He says +it when he wants to let himself go and simply butter +up a thing. If you took him to see N. A. Knox +bowl, he’d say he wasn’t bad. What +he meant was that he was jolly struck with your batting, +and is going to play you for the Under Sixteen.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>The prophecy was fulfilled. On +the following Wednesday there was a match between +the Under Sixteen and a scratch side. Mike’s +name was among the Under Sixteen. And on the +Saturday he was playing for the third eleven in a +trial game.</p> + +<p>“This place is ripping,” +he said to himself, as he saw his name on the list. +“Thought I should like it.”</p> + +<p>And that night he wrote a letter to +his father, notifying him of the fact.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch5"> +CHAPTER V<br/><br/> +REVELRY BY NIGHT</a></h3> + +<p>A succession of events combined to +upset Mike during his first fortnight at school. +He was far more successful than he had any right to +be at his age. There is nothing more heady than +success, and if it comes before we are prepared for +it, it is apt to throw us off our balance. As +a rule, at school, years of wholesome obscurity make +us ready for any small triumphs we may achieve at +the end of our time there. Mike had skipped these +years. He was older than the average new boy, +and his batting was undeniable. He knew quite +well that he was regarded as a find by the cricket +authorities; and the knowledge was not particularly +good for him. It did not make him conceited, for +his was not a nature at all addicted to conceit. +The effect it had on him was to make him excessively +pleased with life. And when Mike was pleased +with life he always found a difficulty in obeying Authority +and its rules. His state of mind was not improved +by an interview with Bob.</p> + +<p>Some evil genius put it into Bob’s +mind that it was his duty to be, if only for one performance, +the Heavy Elder Brother to Mike; to give him good +advice. It is never the smallest use for an elder +brother to attempt to do anything for the good of +a younger brother at school, for the latter rebels +automatically against such interference in his concerns; +but Bob did not know this. He only knew that he +had received a letter from home, in which his mother +had assumed without evidence that he was leading Mike +by the hand round the pitfalls of life at Wrykyn; +and his conscience smote him. Beyond asking him +occasionally, when they met, how he was getting on +(a question to which Mike invariably replied, “Oh, +all right”), he was not aware of having done anything +brotherly towards the youngster. So he asked Mike +to tea in his study one afternoon before going to +the nets.</p> + +<p>Mike arrived, sidling into the study +in the half-sheepish, half-defiant manner peculiar +to small brothers in the presence of their elders, +and stared in silence at the photographs on the walls. +Bob was changing into his cricket things. The +atmosphere was one of constraint and awkwardness.</p> + +<p>The arrival of tea was the cue for conversation.</p> + +<p>“Well, how are you getting on?” asked +Bob.</p> + +<p>“Oh, all right,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>“Sugar?” asked Bob.</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“How many lumps?”</p> + +<p>“Two, please.”</p> + +<p>“Cake?”</p> + +<p>“Thanks.”</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>Bob pulled himself together.</p> + +<p>“Like Wain’s?”</p> + +<p>“Ripping.”</p> + +<p>“I asked Firby-Smith to keep an eye on you,” +said Bob.</p> + +<p>“What!” said Mike.</p> + +<p>The mere idea of a worm like the Gazeka +being told to keep an eye on <i>him</i> was degrading.</p> + +<p>“He said he’d look after you,” added +Bob, making things worse.</p> + +<p>Look after him! Him!! M. Jackson, of the +third eleven!!!</p> + +<p>Mike helped himself to another chunk of cake, and +spoke crushingly.</p> + +<p>“He needn’t trouble,” +he said. “I can look after myself all right, +thanks.”</p> + +<p>Bob saw an opening for the entry of the Heavy Elder +Brother.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Mike,” he said, “I’m +only saying it for your good——”</p> + +<p>I should like to state here that it +was not Bob’s habit to go about the world telling +people things solely for their good. He was only +doing it now to ease his conscience.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Mike coldly.</p> + +<p>“It’s only this. +You know, I should keep an eye on myself if I were +you. There’s nothing that gets a chap so +barred here as side.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” said Mike, outraged.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m not saying anything +against you so far,” said Bob. “You’ve +been all right up to now. What I mean to say is, +you’ve got on so well at cricket, in the third +and so on, there’s just a chance you might start +to side about a bit soon, if you don’t watch +yourself. I’m not saying a word against +you so far, of course. Only you see what I mean.”</p> + +<p>Mike’s feelings were too deep +for words. In sombre silence he reached out for +the jam; while Bob, satisfied that he had delivered +his message in a pleasant and tactful manner, filled +his cup, and cast about him for further words of wisdom.</p> + +<p>“Seen you about with Wyatt a +good deal,” he said at length.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Like him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mike cautiously.</p> + +<p>“You know,” said Bob, +“I shouldn’t—I mean, I should +take care what you’re doing with Wyatt.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s an awfully good chap, of course, +but still——”</p> + +<p>“Still what?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I mean, he’s the +sort of chap who’ll probably get into some thundering +row before he leaves. He doesn’t care a +hang what he does. He’s that sort of chap. +He’s never been dropped on yet, but if you go +on breaking rules you’re bound to be sooner or +later. Thing is, it doesn’t matter much +for him, because he’s leaving at the end of the +term. But don’t let him drag you into anything. +Not that he would try to. But you might think +it was the blood thing to do to imitate him, and the +first thing you knew you’d be dropped on by Wain +or somebody. See what I mean?”</p> + +<p>Bob was well-intentioned, but tact +did not enter greatly into his composition.</p> + +<p>“What rot!” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“All right. But don’t +you go doing it. I’m going over to the nets. +I see Burgess has shoved you down for them. You’d +better be going and changing. Stick on here a +bit, though, if you want any more tea. I’ve +got to be off myself.”</p> + +<p>Mike changed for net-practice in a +ferment of spiritual injury. It was maddening +to be treated as an infant who had to be looked after. +He felt very sore against Bob.</p> + +<p>A good innings at the third eleven +net, followed by some strenuous fielding in the deep, +soothed his ruffled feelings to a large extent; and +all might have been well but for the intervention of +Firby-Smith.</p> + +<p>That youth, all spectacles and front +teeth, met Mike at the door of Wain’s.</p> + +<p>“Ah, I wanted to see you, young +man,” he said. (Mike disliked being called “young +man.”) “Come up to my study.”</p> + +<p>Mike followed him in silence to his +study, and preserved his silence till Firby-Smith, +having deposited his cricket-bag in a corner of the +room and examined himself carefully in a looking-glass +that hung over the mantelpiece, spoke again.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been hearing all +about you, young man.” Mike shuffled.</p> + +<p>“You’re a frightful character +from all accounts.” Mike could not think +of anything to say that was not rude, so said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Your brother has asked me to keep an eye on +you.”</p> + +<p>Mike’s soul began to tie itself +into knots again. He was just at the age when +one is most sensitive to patronage and most resentful +of it.</p> + +<p>“I promised I would,” +said the Gazeka, turning round and examining himself +in the mirror again. “You’ll get on +all right if you behave yourself. Don’t +make a frightful row in the house. Don’t +cheek your elders and betters. Wash. That’s +all. Cut along.”</p> + +<p>Mike had a vague idea of sacrificing +his career to the momentary pleasure of flinging a +chair at the head of the house. Overcoming this +feeling, he walked out of the room, and up to his dormitory +to change.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In the dormitory that night the feeling +of revolt, of wanting to do something actively illegal, +increased. Like Eric, he burned, not with shame +and remorse, but with rage and all that sort of thing. +He dropped off to sleep full of half-formed plans for +asserting himself. He was awakened from a dream +in which he was batting against Firby-Smith’s +bowling, and hitting it into space every time, by a +slight sound. He opened his eyes, and saw a dark +figure silhouetted against the light of the window. +He sat up in bed.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” he said. “Is that +you, Wyatt?”</p> + +<p>“Are you awake?” said +Wyatt. “Sorry if I’ve spoiled your +beauty sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Are you going out?”</p> + +<p>“I am,” said Wyatt. +“The cats are particularly strong on the wing +just now. Mustn’t miss a chance like this. +Specially as there’s a good moon, too. +I shall be deadly.”</p> + +<p>“I say, can’t I come too?”</p> + +<p>A moonlight prowl, with or without +an air-pistol, would just have suited Mike’s +mood.</p> + +<p>“No, you can’t,” +said Wyatt. “When I’m caught, as I’m +morally certain to be some day, or night rather, they’re +bound to ask if you’ve ever been out as well +as me. Then you’ll be able to put your hand +on your little heart and do a big George Washington +act. You’ll find that useful when the time +comes.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think you will be caught?”</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t be surprised. +Anyhow, you stay where you are. Go to sleep and +dream that you’re playing for the school against +Ripton. So long.”</p> + +<p>And Wyatt, laying the bar he had extracted +on the window-sill, wriggled out. Mike saw him +disappearing along the wall.</p> + +<hr /> + + +<p>It was all very well for Wyatt to +tell him to go to sleep, but it was not so easy to +do it. The room was almost light; and Mike always +found it difficult to sleep unless it was dark. +He turned over on his side and shut his eyes, but +he had never felt wider awake. Twice he heard +the quarters chime from the school clock; and the second +time he gave up the struggle. He got out of bed +and went to the window. It was a lovely night, +just the sort of night on which, if he had been at +home, he would have been out after moths with a lantern.</p> + +<p>A sharp yowl from an unseen cat told +of Wyatt’s presence somewhere in the big garden. +He would have given much to be with him, but he realised +that he was on parole. He had promised not to +leave the house, and there was an end of it.</p> + +<p>He turned away from the window and +sat down on his bed. Then a beautiful, consoling +thought came to him. He had given his word that +he would not go into the garden, but nothing had been +said about exploring inside the house. It was +quite late now. Everybody would be in bed. +It would be quite safe. And there must be all +sorts of things to interest the visitor in Wain’s +part of the house. Food, perhaps. Mike felt +that he could just do with a biscuit. And there +were bound to be biscuits on the sideboard in Wain’s +dining-room.</p> + +<p>He crept quietly out of the dormitory.</p> + +<p>He had been long enough in the house +to know the way, in spite of the fact that all was +darkness. Down the stairs, along the passage to +the left, and up a few more stairs at the end. The +beauty of the position was that the dining-room had +two doors, one leading into Wain’s part of the +house, the other into the boys’ section. +Any interruption that there might be would come from +the further door.</p> + +<p>To make himself more secure he locked +that door; then, turning up the incandescent light, +he proceeded to look about him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain’s dining-room repaid +inspection. There were the remains of supper +on the table. Mike cut himself some cheese and +took some biscuits from the box, feeling that he was +doing himself well. This was Life. There +was a little soda-water in the syphon. He finished +it. As it swished into the glass, it made a noise +that seemed to him like three hundred Niagaras; but +nobody else in the house appeared to have noticed +it.</p> + +<p>He took some more biscuits, and an apple.</p> + +<p>After which, feeling a new man, he examined the room.</p> + +<p>And this was where the trouble began.</p> + +<p>On a table in one corner stood a small +gramophone. And gramophones happened to be Mike’s +particular craze.</p> + +<p>All thought of risk left him. +The soda-water may have got into his head, or he may +have been in a particularly reckless mood, as indeed +he was. The fact remains that <i>he</i> inserted +the first record that came to hand, wound the machine +up, and set it going.</p> + +<p>The next moment, very loud and nasal, +a voice from the machine announced that Mr. Godfrey +Field would sing “The Quaint Old Bird.” +And, after a few preliminary chords, Mr. Field actually +did so.</p> + +<p><i>“Auntie went to Aldershot in a Paris pom-pom hat.”</i></p> + +<p>Mike stood and drained it in.</p> + +<p><i>“... Good gracious</i> (sang +Mr. Field), <i>what was that?”</i></p> + +<p>It was a rattling at the handle of +the door. A rattling that turned almost immediately +into a spirited banging. A voice accompanied the +banging. “Who is there?” inquired +the voice. Mike recognised it as Mr. Wain’s. +He was not alarmed. The man who holds the ace +of trumps has no need to be alarmed. His position +was impregnable. The enemy was held in check +by the locked door, while the other door offered an +admirable and instantaneous way of escape.</p> + +<p>Mike crept across the room on tip-toe +and opened the window. It had occurred to him, +just in time, that if Mr. Wain, on entering the room, +found that the occupant had retired by way of the boys’ +part of the house, he might possibly obtain a clue +to his identity. If, on the other hand, he opened +the window, suspicion would be diverted. Mike +had not read his “Raffles” for nothing.</p> + +<p>The handle-rattling was resumed. +This was good. So long as the frontal attack +was kept up, there was no chance of his being taken +in the rear—his only danger.</p> + +<p>He stopped the gramophone, which had +been pegging away patiently at “The Quaint Old +Bird” all the time, and reflected. It seemed +a pity to evacuate the position and ring down the +curtain on what was, to date, the most exciting episode +of his life; but he must not overdo the thing, and +get caught. At any moment the noise might bring +reinforcements to the besieging force, though it was +not likely, for the dining-room was a long way from +the dormitories; and it might flash upon their minds +that there were two entrances to the room. Or +the same bright thought might come to Wain himself.</p> + +<p>“Now what,” pondered Mike, +“would A. J. Raffles have done in a case like +this? Suppose he’d been after somebody’s +jewels, and found that they were after him, and he’d +locked one door, and could get away by the other.”</p> + +<p>The answer was simple.</p> + +<p>“He’d clear out,” thought Mike.</p> + +<p>Two minutes later he was in bed.</p> + +<p>He lay there, tingling all over with +the consciousness of having played a masterly game, +when suddenly a gruesome idea came to him, and he +sat up, breathless. Suppose Wain took it into +his head to make a tour of the dormitories, to see +that all was well! Wyatt was still in the garden +somewhere, blissfully unconscious of what was going +on indoors. He would be caught for a certainty!</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch6"> +CHAPTER VI<br/><br/> +IN WHICH A TIGHT CORNER IS EVADED</a></h3> + +<p>For a moment the situation paralysed +Mike. Then he began to be equal to it. In +times of excitement one thinks rapidly and clearly. +The main point, the kernel of the whole thing, was +that he must get into the garden somehow, and warn +Wyatt. And at the same time, he must keep Mr. +Wain from coming to the dormitory. He jumped out +of bed, and dashed down the dark stairs.</p> + +<p>He had taken care to close the dining-room +door after him. It was open now, and he could +hear somebody moving inside the room. Evidently +his retreat had been made just in time.</p> + +<p>He knocked at the door, and went in.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain was standing at the window, +looking out. He spun round at the knock, and +stared in astonishment at Mike’s pyjama-clad +figure. Mike, in spite of his anxiety, could +barely check a laugh. Mr. Wain was a tall, thin +man, with a serious face partially obscured by a grizzled +beard. He wore spectacles, through which he peered +owlishly at Mike. His body was wrapped in a brown +dressing-gown. His hair was ruffled. He +looked like some weird bird.</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, I thought I heard a noise,” +said Mike.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain continued to stare.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing here?” said he at +last.</p> + +<p>“Thought I heard a noise, please, sir.”</p> + +<p>“A noise?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, a row.”</p> + +<p>“You thought you heard——!”</p> + +<p>The thing seemed to be worrying Mr. Wain.</p> + +<p>“So I came down, sir,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>The house-master’s giant brain +still appeared to be somewhat clouded. He looked +about him, and, catching sight of the gramophone, drew +inspiration from it.</p> + +<p>“Did you turn on the gramophone?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“<i>Me</i>, sir!” said +Mike, with the air of a bishop accused of contributing +to the <i>Police News</i>.</p> + +<p>“Of course not, of course not,” +said Mr. Wain hurriedly. “Of course not. +I don’t know why I asked. All this is very +unsettling. What are you doing here?”</p> + +<p>“Thought I heard a noise, please, sir.”</p> + +<p>“A noise?”</p> + +<p>“A row, sir.”</p> + +<p>If it was Mr. Wain’s wish that +he should spend the night playing Massa Tambo to his +Massa Bones, it was not for him to baulk the house-master’s +innocent pleasure. He was prepared to continue +the snappy dialogue till breakfast time.</p> + +<p>“I think there must have been a burglar in here, +Jackson.”</p> + +<p>“Looks like it, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I found the window open.”</p> + +<p>“He’s probably in the garden, sir.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain looked out into the garden +with an annoyed expression, as if its behaviour in +letting burglars be in it struck him as unworthy of +a respectable garden.</p> + +<p>“He might be still in the house,” said +Mr. Wain, ruminatively.</p> + +<p>“Not likely, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You think not?”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t be such a fool, sir. I +mean, such an ass, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you are right, Jackson.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t wonder if he was hiding in +the shrubbery, sir.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain looked at the shrubbery, +as who should say, <i>“Et tu, Brute!”</i></p> + +<p>“By Jove! I think I see +him,” cried Mike. He ran to the window, +and vaulted through it on to the lawn. An inarticulate +protest from Mr. Wain, rendered speechless by this +move just as he had been beginning to recover his +faculties, and he was running across the lawn into +the shrubbery. He felt that all was well. +There might be a bit of a row on his return, but he +could always plead overwhelming excitement.</p> + +<p>Wyatt was round at the back somewhere, +and the problem was how to get back without being +seen from the dining-room window. Fortunately +a belt of evergreens ran along the path right up to +the house. Mike worked his way cautiously through +these till he was out of sight, then tore for the +regions at the back.</p> + +<p>The moon had gone behind the clouds, +and it was not easy to find a way through the bushes. +Twice branches sprang out from nowhere, and hit Mike +smartly over the shins, eliciting sharp howls of pain.</p> + +<p>On the second of these occasions a +low voice spoke from somewhere on his right.</p> + +<p>“Who on earth’s that?” it said.</p> + +<p>Mike stopped.</p> + +<p>“Is that you, Wyatt? I say——”</p> + +<p>“Jackson!”</p> + +<p>The moon came out again, and Mike +saw Wyatt clearly. His knees were covered with +mould. He had evidently been crouching in the +bushes on all fours.</p> + +<p>“You young ass,” said +Wyatt. “You promised me that you wouldn’t +get out.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know, but——”</p> + +<p>“I heard you crashing through +the shrubbery like a hundred elephants. If you +<i>must</i> get out at night and chance being sacked, +you might at least have the sense to walk quietly.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but you don’t understand.”</p> + +<p>And Mike rapidly explained the situation.</p> + +<p>“But how the dickens did he +hear you, if you were in the dining-room?” asked +Wyatt. “It’s miles from his bedroom. +You must tread like a policeman.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t that. +The thing was, you see, it was rather a rotten thing +to do, I suppose, but I turned on the gramophone.”</p> + +<p>“You—<i>what?</i>”</p> + +<p>“The gramophone. It started +playing ‘The Quaint Old Bird.’ Ripping +it was, till Wain came along.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt doubled up with noiseless laughter.</p> + +<p>“You’re a genius,” +he said. “I never saw such a man. Well, +what’s the game now? What’s the idea?”</p> + +<p>“I think you’d better +nip back along the wall and in through the window, +and I’ll go back to the dining-room. Then +it’ll be all right if Wain comes and looks into +the dorm. Or, if you like, you might come down +too, as if you’d just woke up and thought you’d +heard a row.”</p> + +<p>“That’s not a bad idea. +All right. You dash along then. I’ll +get back.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain was still in the dining-room, +drinking in the beauties of the summer night through +the open window. He gibbered slightly when Mike +reappeared.</p> + +<p>“Jackson! What do you mean +by running about outside the house in this way! +I shall punish you very heavily. I shall certainly +report the matter to the headmaster. I will not +have boys rushing about the garden in their pyjamas. +You will catch an exceedingly bad cold. You will +do me two hundred lines, Latin and English. Exceedingly +so. I will not have it. Did you not hear +me call to you?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, so excited,” +said Mike, standing outside with his hands on the +sill.</p> + +<p>“You have no business to be +excited. I will not have it. It is exceedingly +impertinent of you.”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, may I come in?”</p> + +<p>“Come in! Of course, come +in. Have you no sense, boy? You are laying +the seeds of a bad cold. Come in at once.”</p> + +<p>Mike clambered through the window.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t find him, sir. He must +have got out of the garden.”</p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly,” said Mr. +Wain. “Undoubtedly so. It was very +wrong of you to search for him. You have been +seriously injured. Exceedingly so.”</p> + +<p>He was about to say more on the subject +when Wyatt strolled into the room. Wyatt wore +the rather dazed expression of one who has been aroused +from deep sleep. He yawned before he spoke.</p> + +<p>“I thought I heard a noise, sir,” he said.</p> + +<p>He called Mr. Wain “father” +in private, “sir” in public. The presence +of Mike made this a public occasion.</p> + +<p>“Has there been a burglary?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mike, “only he has got +away.”</p> + +<p>“Shall I go out into the garden, +and have a look round, sir?” asked Wyatt helpfully.</p> + +<p>The question stung Mr. Wain into active eruption once +more.</p> + +<p>“Under no circumstances whatever,” +he said excitedly. “Stay where you are, +James. I will not have boys running about my garden +at night. It is preposterous. Inordinately +so. Both of you go to bed immediately. I +shall not speak to you again on this subject. +I must be obeyed instantly. You hear me, Jackson? +James, you understand me? To bed at once. +And, if I find you outside your dormitory again to-night, +you will both be punished with extreme severity. +I will not have this lax and reckless behaviour.”</p> + +<p>“But the burglar, sir?” said Wyatt.</p> + +<p>“We might catch him, sir,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain’s manner changed to +a slow and stately sarcasm, in much the same way as +a motor-car changes from the top speed to its first.</p> + +<p>“I was under the impression,” +he said, in the heavy way almost invariably affected +by weak masters in their dealings with the obstreperous, +“I was distinctly under the impression that I +had ordered you to retire immediately to your dormitory. +It is possible that you mistook my meaning. In +that case I shall be happy to repeat what I said. +It is also in my mind that I threatened to punish you +with the utmost severity if you did not retire at once. +In these circumstances, James—and you, +Jackson—you will doubtless see the necessity +of complying with my wishes.”</p> + +<p>They made it so.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch7"> +CHAPTER VII<br/><br/> +IN WHICH MIKE IS DISCUSSED</a></h3> + +<p>Trevor and Clowes, of Donaldson’s, +were sitting in their study a week after the gramophone +incident, preparatory to going on the river. At +least Trevor was in the study, getting tea ready. +Clowes was on the window-sill, one leg in the room, +the other outside, hanging over space. He loved +to sit in this attitude, watching some one else work, +and giving his views on life to whoever would listen +to them. Clowes was tall, and looked sad, which +he was not. Trevor was shorter, and very much +in earnest over all that he did. On the present +occasion he was measuring out tea with a concentration +worthy of a general planning a campaign.</p> + +<p>“One for the pot,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“All right,” breathed Trevor. “Come +and help, you slacker.”</p> + +<p>“Too busy.”</p> + +<p>“You aren’t doing a stroke.”</p> + +<p>“My lad, I’m thinking +of Life. That’s a thing you couldn’t +do. I often say to people, ‘Good chap, +Trevor, but can’t think of Life. Give him +a tea-pot and half a pound of butter to mess about +with,’ I say, ‘and he’s all right. +But when it comes to deep thought, where is he? +Among the also-rans.’ That’s what +I say.”</p> + +<p>“Silly ass,” said Trevor, +slicing bread. “What particular rot were +you thinking about just then? What fun it was +sitting back and watching other fellows work, I should +think.”</p> + +<p>“My mind at the moment,” +said Clowes, “was tensely occupied with the +problem of brothers at school. Have you got any +brothers, Trevor?”</p> + +<p>“One. Couple of years younger +than me. I say, we shall want some more jam to-morrow. +Better order it to-day.”</p> + +<p>“See it done, Tigellinus, as +our old pal Nero used to remark. Where is he? +Your brother, I mean.”</p> + +<p>“Marlborough.”</p> + +<p>“That shows your sense. +I have always had a high opinion of your sense, Trevor. +If you’d been a silly ass, you’d have let +your people send him here.”</p> + +<p>“Why not? Shouldn’t have minded.”</p> + +<p> +“I withdraw what I said about your sense. Consider it unsaid. I have a brother +myself. Aged fifteen. Not a bad chap in his way. Like the heroes of the school +stories. ‘Big blue eyes literally bubbling over with fun.’ At least, I suppose +it’s fun to him. Cheek’s what I call it. My people wanted to send him here. I +lodged a protest. I said, ‘One Clowes is ample for any public school.’” +</p> + +<p>“You were right there,” said Trevor.</p> + +<p>“I said, ‘One Clowes is +luxury, two excess.’ I pointed out that +I was just on the verge of becoming rather a blood +at Wrykyn, and that I didn’t want the work of +years spoiled by a brother who would think it a rag +to tell fellows who respected and admired me——”</p> + +<p>“Such as who?”</p> + +<p>“——Anecdotes +of a chequered infancy. There are stories about +me which only my brother knows. Did I want them +spread about the school? No, laddie, I did not. +Hence, we see my brother two terms ago, packing up +his little box, and tooling off to Rugby. And +here am I at Wrykyn, with an unstained reputation, +loved by all who know me, revered by all who don’t; +courted by boys, fawned upon by masters. People’s +faces brighten when I throw them a nod. If I +frown——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come on,” said Trevor.</p> + +<p>Bread and jam and cake monopolised +Clowes’s attention for the next quarter of an +hour. At the end of that period, however, he returned +to his subject.</p> + +<p>“After the serious business +of the meal was concluded, and a simple hymn had been +sung by those present,” he said, “Mr. Clowes +resumed his very interesting remarks. We were +on the subject of brothers at school. Now, take +the melancholy case of Jackson Brothers. My heart +bleeds for Bob.”</p> + +<p>“Jackson’s all right. +What’s wrong with him? Besides, naturally, +young Jackson came to Wrykyn when all his brothers +had been here.”</p> + +<p>“What a rotten argument. +It’s just the one used by chaps’ people, +too. They think how nice it will be for all the +sons to have been at the same school. It may +be all right after they’re left, but while they’re +there, it’s the limit. You say Jackson’s +all right. At present, perhaps, he is. But +the term’s hardly started yet.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Look here, what’s at +the bottom of this sending young brothers to the same +school as elder brothers?”</p> + +<p>“Elder brother can keep an eye on him, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just it. +For once in your life you’ve touched the spot. +In other words, Bob Jackson is practically responsible +for the kid. That’s where the whole rotten +trouble starts.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“Well, what happens? He +either lets the kid rip, in which case he may find +himself any morning in the pleasant position of having +to explain to his people exactly why it is that little +Willie has just received the boot, and why he didn’t +look after him better: or he spends all his spare +time shadowing him to see that he doesn’t get +into trouble. He feels that his reputation hangs +on the kid’s conduct, so he broods over him +like a policeman, which is pretty rotten for him and +maddens the kid, who looks on him as no sportsman. +Bob seems to be trying the first way, which is what +I should do myself. It’s all right, so far, +but, as I said, the term’s only just started.”</p> + +<p>“Young Jackson seems all right. +What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t +stick on side any way, which he might easily do, considering +his cricket.”</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing wrong +with him in that way. I’ve talked to him +several times at the nets, and he’s very decent. +But his getting into trouble hasn’t anything +to do with us. It’s the masters you’ve +got to consider.”</p> + +<p>“What’s up? Does he rag?”</p> + +<p>“From what I gather from fellows +in his form he’s got a genius for ragging. +Thinks of things that don’t occur to anybody +else, and does them, too.”</p> + +<p>“He never seems to be in extra. +One always sees him about on half-holidays.”</p> + +<p>“That’s always the way +with that sort of chap. He keeps on wriggling +out of small rows till he thinks he can do anything +he likes without being dropped on, and then all of +a sudden he finds himself up to the eyebrows in a +record smash. I don’t say young Jackson +will land himself like that. All I say is that +he’s just the sort who does. He’s +asking for trouble. Besides, who do you see him +about with all the time?”</p> + +<p>“He’s generally with Wyatt when I meet +him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Well, then!”</p> + +<p>“What’s wrong with Wyatt? +He’s one of the decentest men in the school.”</p> + +<p>“I know. But he’s +working up for a tremendous row one of these days, +unless he leaves before it comes off. The odds +are, if Jackson’s so thick with him, that he’ll +be roped into it too. Wyatt wouldn’t land +him if he could help it, but he probably wouldn’t +realise what he was letting the kid in for. For +instance, I happen to know that Wyatt breaks out of +his dorm. every other night. I don’t know +if he takes Jackson with him. I shouldn’t +think so. But there’s nothing to prevent +Jackson following him on his own. And if you’re +caught at that game, it’s the boot every time.”</p> + +<p>Trevor looked disturbed.</p> + +<p>“Somebody ought to speak to Bob.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the good? +Why worry him? Bob couldn’t do anything. +You’d only make him do the policeman business, +which he hasn’t time for, and which is bound +to make rows between them. Better leave him alone.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. It +would be a beastly thing for Bob if the kid did get +into a really bad row.”</p> + +<p>“If you must tell anybody, tell +the Gazeka. He’s head of Wain’s, and +has got far more chance of keeping an eye on Jackson +than Bob has.”</p> + +<p>“The Gazeka is a fool.”</p> + +<p>“All front teeth and side. +Still, he’s on the spot. But what’s +the good of worrying. It’s nothing to do +with us, anyhow. Let’s stagger out, shall +we?”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Trevor’s conscientious nature, +however, made it impossible for him to drop the matter. +It disturbed him all the time that he and Clowes were +on the river; and, walking back to the house, he resolved +to see Bob about it during preparation.</p> + +<p>He found him in his study, oiling a bat.</p> + +<p>“I say, Bob,” he said, “look here. +Are you busy?”</p> + +<p>“No. Why?”</p> + +<p>“It’s this way. Clowes and I were +talking——”</p> + +<p>“If Clowes was there he was probably talking. +Well?”</p> + +<p>“About your brother.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, by Jove,” said Bob, +sitting up. “That reminds me. I forgot +to get the evening paper. Did he get his century +all right?”</p> + +<p>“Who?” asked Trevor, bewildered.</p> + +<p>“My brother, J. W. He’d +made sixty-three not out against Kent in this morning’s +paper. What happened?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t get a paper +either. I didn’t mean that brother. +I meant the one here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mike? What’s Mike been up to?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing as yet, that I know +of; but, I say, you know, he seems a great pal of +Wyatt’s.”</p> + +<p>“I know. I spoke to him about it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you did? That’s all right, then.”</p> + +<p>“Not that there’s anything wrong with +Wyatt.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit. Only he is +rather mucking about this term, I hear. It’s +his last, so I suppose he wants to have a rag.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t blame him.”</p> + +<p>“Nor do I. Rather rot, though, +if he lugged your brother into a row by accident.”</p> + +<p>“I should get blamed. I think I’ll +speak to him again.”</p> + +<p>“I should, I think.”</p> + +<p>“I hope he isn’t idiot +enough to go out at night with Wyatt. If Wyatt +likes to risk it, all right. That’s his +look out. But it won’t do for Mike to go +playing the goat too.”</p> + +<p>“Clowes suggested putting Firby-Smith +on to him. He’d have more chance, being +in the same house, of seeing that he didn’t come +a mucker than you would.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve done that. Smith said he’d +speak to him.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right then. Is that a +new bat?”</p> + +<p>“Got it to-day. Smashed my other yesterday—against +the school house.”</p> + +<p>Donaldson’s had played a friendly +with the school house during the last two days, and +had beaten them.</p> + +<p>“I thought I heard it go. You were rather +in form.”</p> + +<p>“Better than at the beginning +of the term, anyhow. I simply couldn’t +do a thing then. But my last three innings have +been 33 not out, 18, and 51.</p> + +<p>“I should think you’re bound to get your +first all right.”</p> + +<p>“Hope so. I see Mike’s playing for +the second against the O.W.s.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Pretty good for his +first term. You have a pro. to coach you in the +holidays, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I didn’t go +to him much this last time. I was away a lot. +But Mike fairly lived inside the net.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s not been chucked +away. I suppose he’ll get his first next +year. There’ll be a big clearing-out of +colours at the end of this term. Nearly all the +first are leaving. Henfrey’ll be captain, +I expect.”</p> + +<p>“Saunders, the pro. at home, +always says that Mike’s going to be the star +cricketer of the family. Better than J. W. even, +he thinks. I asked him what he thought of me, +and he said, ‘You’ll be making a lot of +runs some day, Mr. Bob.’ There’s a +subtle difference, isn’t there? I shall +have Mike cutting me out before I leave school if I’m +not careful.”</p> + +<p>“Sort of infant prodigy,” +said Trevor. “Don’t think he’s +quite up to it yet, though.”</p> + +<p>He went back to his study, and Bob, +having finished his oiling and washed his hands, started +on his Thucydides. And, in the stress of wrestling +with the speech of an apparently delirious Athenian +general, whose remarks seemed to contain nothing even +remotely resembling sense and coherence, he allowed +the question of Mike’s welfare to fade from +his mind like a dissolving view.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch8"> +CHAPTER VIII<br/><br/> +A ROW WITH THE TOWN</a></h3> + +<p>The beginning of a big row, one of +those rows which turn a school upside down like a +volcanic eruption and provide old boys with something +to talk about, when they meet, for years, is not unlike +the beginning of a thunderstorm.</p> + +<p>You are walking along one seemingly +fine day, when suddenly there is a hush, and there +falls on you from space one big drop. The next +moment the thing has begun, and you are standing in +a shower-bath. It is just the same with a row. +Some trivial episode occurs, and in an instant the +place is in a ferment. It was so with the great +picnic at Wrykyn.</p> + +<p>The bare outlines of the beginning +of this affair are included in a letter which Mike +wrote to his father on the Sunday following the Old +Wrykynian matches.</p> + +<p>This was the letter:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“DEAR FATHER,—Thanks +awfully for your letter. I hope you are quite +well. I have been getting on all right at cricket +lately. My scores since I wrote last have +been 0 in a scratch game (the sun got in my eyes +just as I played, and I got bowled); 15 for the third +against an eleven of masters (without G. B. Jones, +the Surrey man, and Spence); 28 not out in the +Under Sixteen game; and 30 in a form match. Rather +decent. Yesterday one of the men put down for +the second against the O.W.’s second couldn’t +play because his father was very ill, so I played. +Wasn’t it luck? It’s the first time +I’ve played for the second. I didn’t +do much, because I didn’t get an innings. +They stop the cricket on O.W. matches day because +they have a lot of rotten Greek plays and things +which take up a frightful time, and half the chaps +are acting, so we stop from lunch to four. Rot +I call it. So I didn’t go in, because +they won the toss and made 215, and by the time we’d +made 140 for 6 it was close of play. They’d +stuck me in eighth wicket. Rather rot. +Still, I may get another shot. And I made rather +a decent catch at mid-on. Low down. I +had to dive for it. Bob played for the first, +but didn’t do much. He was run out after +he’d got ten. I believe he’s rather +sick about it.</p> + +<p class="letter">“Rather a rummy thing happened +after lock-up. I wasn’t in it, but a fellow +called Wyatt (awfully decent chap. He’s +Wain’s step-son, only they bar one another) +told me about it. He was in it all right. +There’s a dinner after the matches on O.W. +day, and some of the chaps were going back to their +houses after it when they got into a row with a +lot of brickies from the town, and there was rather +a row. There was a policeman mixed up in it +somehow, only I don’t quite know where he comes +in. I’ll find out and tell you next time +I write. Love to everybody. Tell Marjory +I’ll write to her in a day or two.</p> + +<p class="center">“Your loving son,</p> + +<p class="center">“MIKE.</p> + +<p class="letter">“P.S.—I say, I +suppose you couldn’t send me five bob, could +you? I’m rather broke.</p> + +<p class="letter">“P.P.S.—Half-a-crown +would do, only I’d rather it was five bob.”</p> + +<p>And, on the back of the envelope, +these words: “Or a bob would be better +than nothing.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The outline of the case was as Mike +had stated. But there were certain details of +some importance which had not come to his notice when +he sent the letter. On the Monday they were public +property.</p> + +<p>The thing had happened after this +fashion. At the conclusion of the day’s +cricket, all those who had been playing in the four +elevens which the school put into the field against +the old boys, together with the school choir, were +entertained by the headmaster to supper in the Great +Hall. The banquet, lengthened by speeches, songs, +and recitations which the reciters imagined to be +songs, lasted, as a rule, till about ten o’clock, +when the revellers were supposed to go back to their +houses by the nearest route, and turn in. This +was the official programme. The school usually +performed it with certain modifications and improvements.</p> + +<p>About midway between Wrykyn, the school, +and Wrykyn, the town, there stands on an island in +the centre of the road a solitary lamp-post. It +was the custom, and had been the custom for generations +back, for the diners to trudge off to this lamp-post, +dance round it for some minutes singing the school +song or whatever happened to be the popular song of +the moment, and then race back to their houses. +Antiquity had given the custom a sort of sanctity, +and the authorities, if they knew—which +they must have done—never interfered.</p> + +<p>But there were others.</p> + +<p>Wrykyn, the town, was peculiarly rich +in “gangs of youths.” Like the vast +majority of the inhabitants of the place, they seemed +to have no work of any kind whatsoever to occupy their +time, which they used, accordingly, to spend prowling +about and indulging in a mild, brainless, rural type +of hooliganism. They seldom proceeded to practical +rowdyism and never except with the school. As +a rule, they amused themselves by shouting rude chaff. +The school regarded them with a lofty contempt, much +as an Oxford man regards the townee. The school +was always anxious for a row, but it was the unwritten +law that only in special circumstances should they +proceed to active measures. A curious dislike +for school-and-town rows and most misplaced severity +in dealing with the offenders when they took place, +were among the few flaws in the otherwise admirable +character of the headmaster of Wrykyn. It was +understood that one scragged bargees at one’s +own risk, and, as a rule, it was not considered worth +it.</p> + +<p>But after an excellent supper and +much singing and joviality, one’s views are +apt to alter. Risks which before supper seemed +great, show a tendency to dwindle.</p> + +<p>When, therefore, the twenty or so +Wrykynians who were dancing round the lamp-post were +aware, in the midst of their festivities, that they +were being observed and criticised by an equal number +of townees, and that the criticisms were, as usual, +essentially candid and personal, they found themselves +forgetting the headmaster’s prejudices and feeling +only that these outsiders must be put to the sword +as speedily as possible, for the honour of the school.</p> + +<p>Possibly, if the town brigade had +stuck to a purely verbal form of attack, all might +yet have been peace. Words can be overlooked.</p> + +<p>But tomatoes cannot.</p> + +<p>No man of spirit can bear to be pelted +with over-ripe tomatoes for any length of time without +feeling that if the thing goes on much longer he will +be reluctantly compelled to take steps.</p> + +<p>In the present crisis, the first tomato +was enough to set matters moving.</p> + +<p>As the two armies stood facing each +other in silence under the dim and mysterious rays +of the lamp, it suddenly whizzed out from the enemy’s +ranks, and hit Wyatt on the right ear.</p> + +<p>There was a moment of suspense. +Wyatt took out his handkerchief and wiped his face, +over which the succulent vegetable had spread itself.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know how you +fellows are going to pass the evening,” he said +quietly. “My idea of a good after-dinner +game is to try and find the chap who threw that. +Anybody coming?”</p> + +<p>For the first five minutes it was +as even a fight as one could have wished to see. +It raged up and down the road without a pause, now +in a solid mass, now splitting up into little groups. +The science was on the side of the school. Most +Wrykynians knew how to box to a certain extent. +But, at any rate at first, it was no time for science. +To be scientific one must have an opponent who observes +at least the more important rules of the ring. +It is impossible to do the latest ducks and hooks +taught you by the instructor if your antagonist butts +you in the chest, and then kicks your shins, while +some dear friend of his, of whose presence you had +no idea, hits you at the same time on the back of +the head. The greatest expert would lose his science +in such circumstances.</p> + +<p>Probably what gave the school the +victory in the end was the righteousness of their +cause. They were smarting under a sense of injury, +and there is nothing that adds a force to one’s +blows and a recklessness to one’s style of delivering +them more than a sense of injury.</p> + +<p>Wyatt, one side of his face still +showing traces of the tomato, led the school with +a vigour that could not be resisted. He very seldom +lost his temper, but he did draw the line at bad tomatoes.</p> + +<p>Presently the school noticed that +the enemy were vanishing little by little into the +darkness which concealed the town. Barely a dozen +remained. And their lonely condition seemed to +be borne in upon these by a simultaneous brain-wave, +for they suddenly gave the fight up, and stampeded +as one man.</p> + +<p>The leaders were beyond recall, but +two remained, tackled low by Wyatt and Clowes after +the fashion of the football-field.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The school gathered round its prisoners, +panting. The scene of the conflict had shifted +little by little to a spot some fifty yards from where +it had started. By the side of the road at this +point was a green, depressed looking pond. Gloomy +in the daytime, it looked unspeakable at night. +It struck Wyatt, whose finer feelings had been entirely +blotted out by tomato, as an ideal place in which to +bestow the captives.</p> + +<p>“Let’s chuck ’em in there,” +he said.</p> + +<p>The idea was welcomed gladly by all, +except the prisoners. A move was made towards +the pond, and the procession had halted on the brink, +when a new voice made itself heard.</p> + +<p>“Now then,” it said, “what’s +all this?”</p> + +<p>A stout figure in policeman’s +uniform was standing surveying them with the aid of +a small bull’s-eye lantern.</p> + +<p>“What’s all this?”</p> + +<p>“It’s all right,” said Wyatt.</p> + +<p>“All right, is it? What’s on?”</p> + +<p>One of the prisoners spoke.</p> + +<p>“Make ’em leave hold of +us, Mr. Butt. They’re a-going to chuck us +in the pond.”</p> + +<p>“Ho!” said the policeman, +with a change in his voice. “Ho, are they? +Come now, young gentleman, a lark’s a lark, but +you ought to know where to stop.”</p> + +<p>“It’s anything but a lark,” +said Wyatt in the creamy voice he used when feeling +particularly savage. “We’re the Strong +Right Arm of Justice. That’s what we are. +This isn’t a lark, it’s an execution.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want none of +your lip, whoever you are,” said Mr. Butt, understanding +but dimly, and suspecting impudence by instinct.</p> + +<p>“This is quite a private matter,” +said Wyatt. “You run along on your beat. +You can’t do anything here.”</p> + +<p>“Ho!”</p> + +<p>“Shove ’em in, you chaps.”</p> + +<p>“Stop!” From Mr. Butt.</p> + +<p>“Oo-er!” From prisoner number one.</p> + +<p>There was a sounding splash as willing +hands urged the first of the captives into the depths. +He ploughed his way to the bank, scrambled out, and +vanished.</p> + +<p>Wyatt turned to the other prisoner.</p> + +<p>“You’ll have the worst +of it, going in second. He’ll have churned +up the mud a bit. Don’t swallow more than +you can help, or you’ll go getting typhoid. +I expect there are leeches and things there, but if +you nip out quick they may not get on to you. +Carry on, you chaps.”</p> + +<p>It was here that the regrettable incident +occurred. Just as the second prisoner was being +launched, Constable Butt, determined to assert himself +even at the eleventh hour, sprang forward, and seized +the captive by the arm. A drowning man will clutch +at a straw. A man about to be hurled into an +excessively dirty pond will clutch at a stout policeman. +The prisoner did.</p> + +<p>Constable Butt represented his one +link with dry land. As he came within reach he +attached himself to his tunic with the vigour and +concentration of a limpet.</p> + +<p>At the same moment the executioners +gave their man the final heave. The policeman +realised his peril too late. A medley of noises +made the peaceful night hideous. A howl from +the townee, a yell from the policeman, a cheer from +the launching party, a frightened squawk from some +birds in a neighbouring tree, and a splash compared +with which the first had been as nothing, and all +was over.</p> + +<p>The dark waters were lashed into a +maelstrom; and then two streaming figures squelched +up the further bank.</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus2"> +<img src="images/jmike2.jpg" alt="THE DARK WATERS WERE LASHED INTO A MAELSTROM" /> +</a></p> + +<p>The school stood in silent consternation. +It was no occasion for light apologies.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” said Wyatt, +as he watched the Law shaking the water from itself +on the other side of the pond, “I’m not +half sure that we hadn’t better be moving!”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch9"> +CHAPTER IX<br/><br/> +BEFORE THE STORM</a></h3> + +<p>Your real, devastating row has many +points of resemblance with a prairie fire. A +man on a prairie lights his pipe, and throws away the +match. The flame catches a bunch of dry grass, +and, before any one can realise what is happening, +sheets of fire are racing over the country; and the +interested neighbours are following their example. +(I have already compared a row with a thunderstorm; +but both comparisons may stand. In dealing with +so vast a matter as a row there must be no stint.)</p> + +<p>The tomato which hit Wyatt in the +face was the thrown-away match. But for the unerring +aim of the town marksman great events would never +have happened. A tomato is a trivial thing (though +it is possible that the man whom it hits may not think +so), but in the present case, it was the direct cause +of epoch-making trouble.</p> + +<p>The tomato hit Wyatt. Wyatt, +with others, went to look for the thrower. The +remnants of the thrower’s friends were placed +in the pond, and “with them,” as they +say in the courts of law, Police Constable Alfred +Butt.</p> + +<p>Following the chain of events, we +find Mr. Butt, having prudently changed his clothes, +calling upon the headmaster.</p> + +<p>The headmaster was grave and sympathetic; +Mr. Butt fierce and revengeful.</p> + +<p>The imagination of the force is proverbial. +Nurtured on motor-cars and fed with stop-watches, +it has become world-famous. Mr. Butt gave free +rein to it.</p> + +<p>“Threw me in, they did, sir. Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Threw you in!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. <i>Plop</i>!” said Mr. Butt, +with a certain sad relish.</p> + +<p>“Really, really!” said +the headmaster. “Indeed! This is—dear +me! I shall certainly—They threw you +in!—Yes, I shall—certainly——”</p> + +<p>Encouraged by this appreciative reception +of his story, Mr. Butt started it again, right from +the beginning.</p> + +<p> +“I was on my beat, sir, and I thought I heard a disturbance. I says to myself, +‘’Allo,’ I says, ‘a frakkus. Lots of them all gathered together, and fighting.’ +I says, beginning to suspect something, ‘Wot’s this all about, I wonder?’ I +says. ‘Blow me if I don’t think it’s a frakkus.’ And,” concluded Mr. Butt, with +the air of one confiding a secret, “and it <i>was</i> a frakkus!” +</p> + +<p>“And these boys actually threw you into the +pond?”</p> + +<p> +“<i>Plop</i>, sir! Mrs. Butt is drying my uniform at home at this very moment +as we sit talking here, sir. She says to me, ‘Why, whatever <i>’ave</i> you +been a-doing? You’re all wet.’ And,” he added, again with the confidential air, +“I <i>was</i> wet, too. Wringin’ wet.” +</p> + +<p>The headmaster’s frown deepened.</p> + +<p>“And you are certain that your assailants were +boys from the school?”</p> + +<p>“Sure as I am that I’m +sitting here, sir. They all ’ad their caps +on their heads, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I have never heard of such +a thing. I can hardly believe that it is possible. +They actually seized you, and threw you into the water——”</p> + +<p>“<i>Splish</i>, sir!” +said the policeman, with a vividness of imagery both +surprising and gratifying.</p> + +<p>The headmaster tapped restlessly on +the floor with his foot.</p> + +<p>“How many boys were there?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Couple of ’undred, sir,” said Mr. +Butt promptly.</p> + +<p>“Two hundred!”</p> + +<p>“It was dark, sir, and I couldn’t +see not to say properly; but if you ask me my frank +and private opinion I should say couple of ’undred.”</p> + +<p>“H’m—Well, +I will look into the matter at once. They shall +be punished.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ye-e-s—H’m—Yes—Most +severely.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Yes—Thank you, constable. Good-night.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night, sir.”</p> + +<p>The headmaster of Wrykyn was not a +motorist. Owing to this disadvantage he made +a mistake. Had he been a motorist, he would have +known that statements by the police in the matter of +figures must be divided by any number from two to +ten, according to discretion. As it was, he accepted +Constable Butt’s report almost as it stood. +He thought that he might possibly have been mistaken +as to the exact numbers of those concerned in his +immersion; but he accepted the statement in so far +as it indicated that the thing had been the work of +a considerable section of the school, and not of only +one or two individuals. And this made all the +difference to his method of dealing with the affair. +Had he known how few were the numbers of those responsible +for the cold in the head which subsequently attacked +Constable Butt, he would have asked for their names, +and an extra lesson would have settled the entire +matter.</p> + +<p>As it was, however, he got the impression +that the school, as a whole, was culpable, and he +proceeded to punish the school as a whole.</p> + +<p>It happened that, about a week before +the pond episode, a certain member of the Royal Family +had recovered from a dangerous illness, which at one +time had looked like being fatal. No official +holiday had been given to the schools in honour of +the recovery, but Eton and Harrow had set the example, +which was followed throughout the kingdom, and Wrykyn +had come into line with the rest. Only two days +before the O.W.’s matches the headmaster had +given out a notice in the hall that the following +Friday would be a whole holiday; and the school, always +ready to stop work, had approved of the announcement +exceedingly.</p> + +<p>The step which the headmaster decided +to take by way of avenging Mr. Butt’s wrongs +was to stop this holiday.</p> + +<p>He gave out a notice to that effect on the Monday.</p> + +<p>The school was thunderstruck. +It could not understand it. The pond affair had, +of course, become public property; and those who had +had nothing to do with it had been much amused. +“There’ll be a frightful row about it,” +they had said, thrilled with the pleasant excitement +of those who see trouble approaching and themselves +looking on from a comfortable distance without risk +or uneasiness. They were not malicious. +They did not want to see their friends in difficulties. +But there is no denying that a row does break the +monotony of a school term. The thrilling feeling +that something is going to happen is the salt of life....</p> + +<p>And here they were, right in it after +all. The blow had fallen, and crushed guilty +and innocent alike.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The school’s attitude can be +summed up in three words. It was one vast, blank, +astounded “Here, I say!”</p> + +<p>Everybody was saying it, though not +always in those words. When condensed, everybody’s +comment on the situation came to that.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There is something rather pathetic +in the indignation of a school. It must always, +or nearly always, expend itself in words, and in private +at that. Even the consolation of getting on to +platforms and shouting at itself is denied to it. +A public school has no Hyde Park.</p> + +<p>There is every probability—in +fact, it is certain—that, but for one malcontent, +the school’s indignation would have been allowed +to simmer down in the usual way, and finally become +a mere vague memory.</p> + +<p>The malcontent was Wyatt. He +had been responsible for the starting of the matter, +and he proceeded now to carry it on till it blazed +up into the biggest thing of its kind ever known at +Wrykyn—the Great Picnic.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Any one who knows the public schools, +their ironbound conservatism, and, as a whole, intense +respect for order and authority, will appreciate the +magnitude of his feat, even though he may not approve +of it. Leaders of men are rare. Leaders of +boys are almost unknown. It requires genius to +sway a school.</p> + +<p>It would be an absorbing task for +a psychologist to trace the various stages by which +an impossibility was changed into a reality. Wyatt’s +coolness and matter-of-fact determination were his +chief weapons. His popularity and reputation +for lawlessness helped him. A conversation which +he had with Neville-Smith, a day-boy, is typical of +the way in which he forced his point of view on the +school.</p> + +<p>Neville-Smith was thoroughly representative +of the average Wrykynian. He could play his part +in any minor “rag” which interested him, +and probably considered himself, on the whole, a daring +sort of person. But at heart he had an enormous +respect for authority. Before he came to Wyatt, +he would not have dreamed of proceeding beyond words +in his revolt. Wyatt acted on him like some drug.</p> + +<p>Neville-Smith came upon Wyatt on his +way to the nets. The notice concerning the holiday +had only been given out that morning, and he was full +of it. He expressed his opinion of the headmaster +freely and in well-chosen words. He said it was +a swindle, that it was all rot, and that it was a +beastly shame. He added that something ought to +be done about it.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do?” asked Wyatt.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Neville-Smith +a little awkwardly, guiltily conscious that he had +been frothing, and scenting sarcasm, “I don’t +suppose one can actually <i>do</i> anything.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” said Wyatt.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you take the holiday?”</p> + +<p>“What? Not turn up on Friday!”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I’m not going to.”</p> + +<p>Neville-Smith stopped and stared. Wyatt was unmoved.</p> + +<p>“You’re what?”</p> + +<p>“I simply sha’n’t go to school.”</p> + +<p>“You’re rotting.”</p> + +<p>“All right.”</p> + +<p>“No, but, I say, ragging barred. +Are you just going to cut off, though the holiday’s +been stopped?”</p> + +<p>“That’s the idea.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll get sacked.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so. But only +because I shall be the only one to do it. If +the whole school took Friday off, they couldn’t +do much. They couldn’t sack the whole school.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, nor could they! I say!”</p> + +<p>They walked on, Neville-Smith’s mind in a whirl, +Wyatt whistling.</p> + +<p>“I say,” said Neville-Smith +after a pause. “It would be a bit of a +rag.”</p> + +<p>“Not bad.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think the chaps would do it?”</p> + +<p>“If they understood they wouldn’t be alone.”</p> + +<p>Another pause.</p> + +<p>“Shall I ask some of them?” said Neville-Smith.</p> + +<p>“Do.”</p> + +<p>“I could get quite a lot, I believe.”</p> + +<p>“That would be a start, wouldn’t +it? I could get a couple of dozen from Wain’s. +We should be forty or fifty strong to start with.”</p> + +<p>“I say, what a score, wouldn’t it be?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll speak to the chaps to-night, and +let you know.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Wyatt. +“Tell them that I shall be going anyhow. +I should be glad of a little company.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The school turned in on the Thursday +night in a restless, excited way. There were +mysterious whisperings and gigglings. Groups kept +forming in corners apart, to disperse casually and +innocently on the approach of some person in authority.</p> + +<p>An air of expectancy permeated each of the houses.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch10"> +CHAPTER X<br/><br/> +THE GREAT PICNIC</a></h3> + +<p>Morning school at Wrykyn started at +nine o’clock. At that hour there was a +call-over in each of the form-rooms. After call-over +the forms proceeded to the Great Hall for prayers.</p> + +<p>A strangely desolate feeling was in +the air at nine o’clock on the Friday morning. +Sit in the grounds of a public school any afternoon +in the summer holidays, and you will get exactly the +same sensation of being alone in the world as came +to the dozen or so day-boys who bicycled through the +gates that morning. Wrykyn was a boarding-school +for the most part, but it had its leaven of day-boys. +The majority of these lived in the town, and walked +to school. A few, however, whose homes were farther +away, came on bicycles. One plutocrat did the +journey in a motor-car, rather to the scandal of the +authorities, who, though unable to interfere, looked +askance when compelled by the warning toot of the +horn to skip from road to pavement. A form-master +has the strongest objection to being made to skip like +a young ram by a boy to whom he has only the day before +given a hundred lines for shuffling his feet in form.</p> + +<p>It seemed curious to these cyclists +that there should be nobody about. Punctuality +is the politeness of princes, but it was not a leading +characteristic of the school; and at three minutes +to nine, as a general rule, you might see the gravel +in front of the buildings freely dotted with sprinters, +trying to get in in time to answer their names.</p> + +<p>It was curious that there should be +nobody about to-day. A wave of reform could scarcely +have swept through the houses during the night.</p> + +<p>And yet—where was everybody?</p> + +<p>Time only deepened the mystery. +The form-rooms, like the gravel, were empty.</p> + +<p>The cyclists looked at one another +in astonishment. What could it mean?</p> + +<p>It was an occasion on which sane people +wonder if their brains are not playing them some unaccountable +trick.</p> + +<p>“I say,” said Willoughby, +of the Lower Fifth, to Brown, the only other occupant +of the form-room, “the old man <i>did</i> stop +the holiday to-day, didn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“Just what I was going to ask +you,” said Brown. “It’s jolly +rum. I distinctly remember him giving it out +in hall that it was going to be stopped because of +the O.W.’s day row.”</p> + +<p>“So do I. I can’t make it out. Where +<i>is</i> everybody?”</p> + +<p>“They can’t <i>all</i> be late.”</p> + +<p>“Somebody would have turned up by now. +Why, it’s just striking.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he sent another notice +round the houses late last night, saying it was on +again all right. I say, what a swindle if he did. +Some one might have let us know. I should have +got up an hour later.”</p> + +<p>“So should I.”</p> + +<p>“Hullo, here <i>is</i> somebody.”</p> + +<p>It was the master of the Lower Fifth, +Mr. Spence. He walked briskly into the room, +as was his habit. Seeing the obvious void, he +stopped in his stride, and looked puzzled.</p> + +<p>“Willoughby. Brown. Are you the only +two here? Where is everybody?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, we don’t know. We were +just wondering.”</p> + +<p>“Have you seen nobody?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“We were just wondering, sir, +if the holiday had been put on again, after all.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard nothing about +it. I should have received some sort of intimation +if it had been.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say that you have seen <i>nobody</i>, +Brown?”</p> + +<p>“Only about a dozen fellows, +sir. The usual lot who come on bikes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“None of the boarders?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. Not a single one.”</p> + +<p>“This is extraordinary.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Spence pondered.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “you +two fellows had better go along up to Hall. I +shall go to the Common Room and make inquiries. +Perhaps, as you say, there is a holiday to-day, and +the notice was not brought to me.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Spence told himself, as he walked +to the Common Room, that this might be a possible +solution of the difficulty. He was not a house-master, +and lived by himself in rooms in the town. It +was just conceivable that they might have forgotten +to tell him of the change in the arrangements.</p> + +<p>But in the Common Room the same perplexity +reigned. Half a dozen masters were seated round +the room, and a few more were standing. And they +were all very puzzled.</p> + +<p>A brisk conversation was going on. +Several voices hailed Mr. Spence as he entered.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Spence. Are you alone in the world +too?”</p> + +<p>“Any of your boys turned up, Spence?”</p> + +<p>“You in the same condition as we are, Spence?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Spence seated himself on the table.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t any of your fellows turned up, +either?” he said.</p> + +<p>“When I accepted the honourable +post of Lower Fourth master in this abode of sin,” +said Mr. Seymour, “it was on the distinct understanding +that there was going to <i>be</i> a Lower Fourth. +Yet I go into my form-room this morning, and what +do I find? Simply Emptiness, and Pickersgill II. +whistling ‘The Church Parade,’ all flat. +I consider I have been hardly treated.”</p> + +<p>“I have no complaint to make +against Brown and Willoughby, as individuals,” +said Mr. Spence; “but, considered as a form, +I call them short measure.”</p> + +<p>“I confess that I am entirely +at a loss,” said Mr. Shields precisely. +“I have never been confronted with a situation +like this since I became a schoolmaster.”</p> + +<p>“It is most mysterious,” +agreed Mr. Wain, plucking at his beard. “Exceedingly +so.”</p> + +<p>The younger masters, notably Mr. Spence +and Mr. Seymour, had begun to look on the thing as +a huge jest.</p> + +<p>“We had better teach ourselves,” +said Mr. Seymour. “Spence, do a hundred +lines for laughing in form.”</p> + +<p>The door burst open.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, here’s another +scholastic Little Bo-Peep,” said Mr. Seymour. +“Well, Appleby, have you lost your sheep, too?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to tell me——” +began Mr. Appleby.</p> + +<p>“I do,” said Mr. Seymour. +“Here we are, fifteen of us, all good men and +true, graduates of our Universities, and, as far as +I can see, if we divide up the boys who have come +to school this morning on fair share-and-share-alike +lines, it will work out at about two-thirds of a boy +each. Spence, will you take a third of Pickersgill +II.?”</p> + +<p>“I want none of your charity,” +said Mr. Spence loftily. “You don’t +seem to realise that I’m the best off of you +all. I’ve got two in my form. It’s +no good offering me your Pickersgills. I simply +haven’t room for them.”</p> + +<p>“What does it all mean?” exclaimed Mr. +Appleby.</p> + +<p>“If you ask me,” said +Mr. Seymour, “I should say that it meant that +the school, holding the sensible view that first thoughts +are best, have ignored the head’s change of +mind, and are taking their holiday as per original +programme.”</p> + +<p>“They surely cannot——!”</p> + +<p>“Well, where are they then?”</p> + +<p>“Do you seriously mean that +the entire school has—has <i>rebelled</i>?”</p> + +<p>“‘Nay, sire,’” quoted Mr. +Spence, “‘a revolution!’”</p> + +<p>“I never heard of such a thing!”</p> + +<p>“We’re making history,” said Mr. +Seymour.</p> + +<p>“It will be rather interesting,” +said Mr. Spence, “to see how the head will deal +with a situation like this. One can rely on him +to do the statesman-like thing, but I’m bound +to say I shouldn’t care to be in his place. +It seems to me these boys hold all the cards. +You can’t expel a whole school. There’s +safety in numbers. The thing is colossal.”</p> + +<p>“It is deplorable,” said Mr. Wain, with +austerity. “Exceedingly so.”</p> + +<p>“I try to think so,” said +Mr. Spence, “but it’s a struggle. +There’s a Napoleonic touch about the business +that appeals to one. Disorder on a small scale +is bad, but this is immense. I’ve never +heard of anything like it at any public school. +When I was at Winchester, my last year there, there +was pretty nearly a revolution because the captain +of cricket was expelled on the eve of the Eton match. +I remember making inflammatory speeches myself on +that occasion. But we stopped on the right side +of the line. We were satisfied with growling. +But this——!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Seymour got up.</p> + +<p>“It’s an ill wind,” +he said. “With any luck we ought to get +the day off, and it’s ideal weather for a holiday. +The head can hardly ask us to sit indoors, teaching +nobody. If I have to stew in my form-room all +day, instructing Pickersgill II., I shall make things +exceedingly sultry for that youth. He will wish +that the Pickersgill progeny had stopped short at +his elder brother. He will not value life. +In the meantime, as it’s already ten past, hadn’t +we better be going up to Hall to see what the orders +of the day <i>are</i>?”</p> + +<p> +“Look at Shields,” said Mr. Spence. “He might be posing for a statue to be +called ‘Despair!’ He reminds me of Macduff. <i>Macbeth</i>, Act iv., somewhere +near the end. ‘What, all my pretty chickens, at one fell swoop?’ That’s what +Shields is saying to himself.” +</p> + +<p>“It’s all very well to +make a joke of it, Spence,” said Mr. Shields +querulously, “but it is most disturbing. +Most.”</p> + +<p>“Exceedingly,” agreed Mr. Wain.</p> + +<p>The bereaved company of masters walked +on up the stairs that led to the Great Hall.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch11"> +CHAPTER XI<br/><br/> +THE CONCLUSION OF THE PICNIC</a></h3> + +<p>If the form-rooms had been lonely, +the Great Hall was doubly, trebly, so. It was +a vast room, stretching from side to side of the middle +block, and its ceiling soared up into a distant dome. +At one end was a dais and an organ, and at intervals +down the room stood long tables. The panels were +covered with the names of Wrykynians who had won scholarships +at Oxford and Cambridge, and of Old Wrykynians who +had taken first in Mods or Greats, or achieved any +other recognised success, such as a place in the Indian +Civil Service list. A silent testimony, these +panels, to the work the school had done in the world.</p> + +<p>Nobody knew exactly how many the Hall +could hold, when packed to its fullest capacity. +The six hundred odd boys at the school seemed to leave +large gaps unfilled.</p> + +<p>This morning there was a mere handful, +and the place looked worse than empty.</p> + +<p>The Sixth Form were there, and the +school prefects. The Great Picnic had not affected +their numbers. The Sixth stood by their table +in a solid group. The other tables were occupied +by ones and twos. A buzz of conversation was +going on, which did not cease when the masters filed +into the room and took their places. Every one +realised by this time that the biggest row in Wrykyn +history was well under way; and the thing had to be +discussed.</p> + +<p>In the Masters’ library Mr. +Wain and Mr. Shields, the spokesmen of the Common +Room, were breaking the news to the headmaster.</p> + +<p>The headmaster was a man who rarely +betrayed emotion in his public capacity. He heard +Mr. Shields’s rambling remarks, punctuated by +Mr. Wain’s “Exceedinglys,” to an +end. Then he gathered up his cap and gown.</p> + +<p>“You say that the whole school +is absent?” he remarked quietly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Shields, in a long-winded flow +of words, replied that that was what he did say.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said the headmaster.</p> + +<p>There was a silence.</p> + +<p>“’M!” said the headmaster.</p> + +<p>There was another silence.</p> + +<p>“Ye—e—s!” said the +headmaster.</p> + +<p>He then led the way into the Hall.</p> + +<p>Conversation ceased abruptly as he +entered. The school, like an audience at a theatre +when the hero has just appeared on the stage, felt +that the serious interest of the drama had begun. +There was a dead silence at every table as he strode +up the room and on to the dais.</p> + +<p>There was something Titanic in his +calmness. Every eye was on his face as he passed +up the Hall, but not a sign of perturbation could the +school read. To judge from his expression, he +might have been unaware of the emptiness around him.</p> + +<p>The master who looked after the music +of the school, and incidentally accompanied the hymn +with which prayers at Wrykyn opened, was waiting, +puzzled, at the foot of the dais. It seemed improbable +that things would go on as usual, and he did not know +whether he was expected to be at the organ, or not. +The headmaster’s placid face reassured him. +He went to his post.</p> + +<p>The hymn began. It was a long +hymn, and one which the school liked for its swing +and noise. As a rule, when it was sung, the Hall +re-echoed. To-day, the thin sound of the voices +had quite an uncanny effect. The organ boomed +through the deserted room.</p> + +<p>The school, or the remnants of it, +waited impatiently while the prefect whose turn it +was to read stammered nervously through the lesson. +They were anxious to get on to what the Head was going +to say at the end of prayers. At last it was +over. The school waited, all ears.</p> + +<p>The headmaster bent down from the +dais and called to Firby-Smith, who was standing in +his place with the Sixth.</p> + +<p>The Gazeka, blushing warmly, stepped forward.</p> + +<p>“Bring me a school list, Firby-Smith,” +said the headmaster.</p> + +<p>The Gazeka was wearing a pair of very +squeaky boots that morning. They sounded deafening +as he walked out of the room.</p> + +<p>The school waited.</p> + +<p>Presently a distant squeaking was +heard, and Firby-Smith returned, bearing a large sheet +of paper.</p> + +<p>The headmaster thanked him, and spread it out on the +reading-desk.</p> + +<p>Then, calmly, as if it were an occurrence +of every day, he began to call the roll.</p> + +<p>“Abney.”</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>“Adams.”</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>“Allenby.”</p> + +<p>“Here, sir,” from a table +at the end of the room. Allenby was a prefect, +in the Science Sixth.</p> + +<p>The headmaster made a mark against his name with a +pencil.</p> + +<p>“Arkwright.”</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>He began to call the names more rapidly.</p> + +<p>“Arlington. Arthur. Ashe. Aston.”</p> + +<p>“Here, sir,” in a shrill treble from the +rider in motorcars.</p> + +<p>The headmaster made another tick.</p> + +<p>The list came to an end after what +seemed to the school an unconscionable time, and he +rolled up the paper again, and stepped to the edge +of the dais.</p> + +<p>“All boys not in the Sixth Form,” +he said, “will go to their form-rooms and get +their books and writing-materials, and return to the +Hall.”</p> + +<p>(“Good work,” murmured Mr. Seymour +to himself. “Looks as if we should get +that holiday after all.”)</p> + +<p>“The Sixth Form will go to their +form-room as usual. I should like to speak to +the masters for a moment.”</p> + +<p>He nodded dismissal to the school.</p> + +<p>The masters collected on the daïs.</p> + +<p>“I find that I shall not require +your services to-day,” said the headmaster. +“If you will kindly set the boys in your forms +some work that will keep them occupied, I will look +after them here. It is a lovely day,” he +added, with a smile, “and I am sure you will +all enjoy yourselves a great deal more in the open +air.”</p> + +<p>“That,” said Mr. Seymour +to Mr. Spence, as they went downstairs, “is +what I call a genuine sportsman.”</p> + +<p>“My opinion neatly expressed,” +said Mr. Spence. “Come on the river. +Or shall we put up a net, and have a knock?”</p> + +<p>“River, I think. Meet you at the boat-house.”</p> + +<p>“All right. Don’t be long.”</p> + +<p>“If every day were run on these +lines, school-mastering wouldn’t be such a bad +profession. I wonder if one could persuade one’s +form to run amuck as a regular thing.”</p> + +<p>“Pity one can’t. +It seems to me the ideal state of things. Ensures +the greatest happiness of the greatest number.”</p> + +<p>“I say! Suppose the school +has gone up the river, too, and we meet them! +What shall we do?”</p> + +<p>“Thank them,” said Mr. +Spence, “most kindly. They’ve done +us well.”</p> + +<p>The school had not gone up the river. +They had marched in a solid body, with the school +band at their head playing Sousa, in the direction +of Worfield, a market town of some importance, distant +about five miles. Of what they did and what the +natives thought of it all, no very distinct records +remain. The thing is a tradition on the countryside +now, an event colossal and heroic, to be talked about +in the tap-room of the village inn during the long +winter evenings. The papers got hold of it, but +were curiously misled as to the nature of the demonstration. +This was the fault of the reporter on the staff of +the <i>Worfield Intelligencer and Farmers’ Guide</i>, +who saw in the thing a legitimate “march-out,” +and, questioning a straggler as to the reason for +the expedition and gathering foggily that the restoration +to health of the Eminent Person was at the bottom of +it, said so in his paper. And two days later, +at about the time when Retribution had got seriously +to work, the <i>Daily Mail</i> reprinted the account, +with comments and elaborations, and headed it “Loyal +Schoolboys.” The writer said that great +credit was due to the headmaster of Wrykyn for his +ingenuity in devising and organising so novel a thanksgiving +celebration. And there was the usual conversation +between “a rosy-cheeked lad of some sixteen +summers” and “our representative,” +in which the rosy-cheeked one spoke most kindly of +the head-master, who seemed to be a warm personal +friend of his.</p> + +<p>The remarkable thing about the Great +Picnic was its orderliness. Considering that +five hundred and fifty boys were ranging the country +in a compact mass, there was wonderfully little damage +done to property. Wyatt’s genius did not +stop short at organising the march. In addition, +he arranged a system of officers which effectually +controlled the animal spirits of the rank and file. +The prompt and decisive way in which rioters were +dealt with during the earlier stages of the business +proved a wholesome lesson to others who would have +wished to have gone and done likewise. A spirit +of martial law reigned over the Great Picnic. +And towards the end of the day fatigue kept the rowdy-minded +quiet.</p> + +<p>At Worfield the expedition lunched. +It was not a market-day, fortunately, or the confusion +in the narrow streets would have been hopeless. +On ordinary days Worfield was more or less deserted. +It is astonishing that the resources of the little +town were equal to satisfying the needs of the picnickers. +They descended on the place like an army of locusts.</p> + +<p>Wyatt, as generalissimo of the expedition, +walked into the “Grasshopper and Ant,” +the leading inn of the town.</p> + +<p>“Anything I can do for you, +sir?” inquired the landlord politely.</p> + +<p>“Yes, please,” said Wyatt, +“I want lunch for five hundred and fifty.”</p> + +<p>That was the supreme moment in mine +host’s life. It was his big subject of +conversation ever afterwards. He always told that +as his best story, and he always ended with the words, +“You could ha’ knocked me down with a +feather!”</p> + +<p>The first shock over, the staff of +the “Grasshopper and Ant” bustled about. +Other inns were called upon for help. Private +citizens rallied round with bread, jam, and apples. +And the army lunched sumptuously.</p> + +<p>In the early afternoon they rested, +and as evening began to fall, the march home was started.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>At the school, net practice was just +coming to an end when, faintly, as the garrison of +Lucknow heard the first skirl of the pipes of the +relieving force, those on the grounds heard the strains +of the school band and a murmur of many voices. +Presently the sounds grew more distinct, and up the +Wrykyn road came marching the vanguard of the column, +singing the school song. They looked weary but +cheerful.</p> + +<p>As the army drew near to the school, +it melted away little by little, each house claiming +its representatives. At the school gates only +a handful were left.</p> + +<p>Bob Jackson, walking back to Donaldson’s, +met Wyatt at the gate, and gazed at him, speechless.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” said Wyatt, “been +to the nets? I wonder if there’s time for +a ginger-beer before the shop shuts.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch12"> +CHAPTER XII<br/><br/> +MIKE GETS HIS CHANCE</a></h3> + +<p>The headmaster was quite bland and +business-like about it all. There were no impassioned +addresses from the dais. He did not tell the +school that it ought to be ashamed of itself. +Nor did he say that he should never have thought it +of them. Prayers on the Saturday morning were +marked by no unusual features. There was, indeed, +a stir of excitement when he came to the edge of the +dais, and cleared his throat as a preliminary to making +an announcement. Now for it, thought the school.</p> + +<p>This was the announcement.</p> + +<p>“There has been an outbreak +of chicken-pox in the town. All streets except +the High Street will in consequence be out of bounds +till further notice.”</p> + +<p>He then gave the nod of dismissal.</p> + +<p>The school streamed downstairs, marvelling.</p> + +<p>The less astute of the picnickers, +unmindful of the homely proverb about hallooing before +leaving the wood, were openly exulting. It seemed +plain to them that the headmaster, baffled by the magnitude +of the thing, had resolved to pursue the safe course +of ignoring it altogether. To lie low is always +a shrewd piece of tactics, and there seemed no reason +why the Head should not have decided on it in the +present instance.</p> + +<p>Neville-Smith was among these premature rejoicers.</p> + +<p>“I say,” he chuckled, +overtaking Wyatt in the cloisters, “this is all +right, isn’t it! He’s funked it. +I thought he would. Finds the job too big to +tackle.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt was damping.</p> + +<p>“My dear chap,” he said, +“it’s not over yet by a long chalk. +It hasn’t started yet.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean? Why didn’t he +say anything about it in Hall, then?”</p> + +<p>“Why should he? Have you ever had tick +at a shop?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I have. What do you mean? +Why?”</p> + +<p>“Well, they didn’t send +in the bill right away. But it came all right.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think he’s going to do something, +then?”</p> + +<p>“Rather. You wait.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt was right.</p> + +<p>Between ten and eleven on Wednesdays +and Saturdays old Bates, the school sergeant, used +to copy out the names of those who were in extra lesson, +and post them outside the school shop. The school +inspected the list during the quarter to eleven interval.</p> + +<p>To-day, rushing to the shop for its +midday bun, the school was aware of a vast sheet of +paper where usually there was but a small one. +They surged round it. Buns were forgotten. +What was it?</p> + +<p>Then the meaning of the notice flashed +upon them. The headmaster had acted. This +bloated document was the extra lesson list, swollen +with names as a stream swells with rain. It was +a comprehensive document. It left out little.</p> + +<p>“The following boys will go +in to extra lesson this afternoon and next Wednesday,” +it began. And “the following boys” +numbered four hundred.</p> + +<p>“Bates must have got writer’s +cramp,” said Clowes, as he read the huge scroll.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Wyatt met Mike after school, as they +went back to the house.</p> + +<p>“Seen the ‘extra’ +list?” he remarked. “None of the kids +are in it, I notice. Only the bigger fellows. +Rather a good thing. I’m glad you got off.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Mike, who +was walking a little stiffly. “I don’t +know what you call getting off. It seems to me +you’re the chaps who got off.”</p> + +<p>“How do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“We got tanned,” said Mike ruefully.</p> + +<p>“What!”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Everybody below the Upper Fourth.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt roared with laughter.</p> + +<p>“By Gad,” he said, “he +is an old sportsman. I never saw such a man. +He lowers all records.”</p> + +<p>“Glad you think it funny. +You wouldn’t have if you’d been me. +I was one of the first to get it. He was quite +fresh.”</p> + +<p>“Sting?”</p> + +<p>“Should think it did.”</p> + +<p>“Well, buck up. Don’t break down.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not breaking down,” said Mike +indignantly.</p> + +<p>“All right, I thought you weren’t. +Anyhow, you’re better off than I am.”</p> + +<p>“An extra’s nothing much,” said +Mike.</p> + +<p>“It is when it happens to come on the same day +as the M.C.C. match.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, by Jove! I forgot. +That’s next Wednesday, isn’t it? You +won’t be able to play!”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“I say, what rot!”</p> + +<p>“It is, rather. Still, +nobody can say I didn’t ask for it. If one +goes out of one’s way to beg and beseech the +Old Man to put one in extra, it would be a little +rough on him to curse him when he does it.”</p> + +<p>“I should be awfully sick, if it were me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it isn’t you, so +you’re all right. You’ll probably +get my place in the team.”</p> + +<p>Mike smiled dutifully at what he supposed to be a +humorous sally.</p> + +<p>“Or, rather, one of the places,” +continued Wyatt, who seemed to be sufficiently in +earnest. “They’ll put a bowler in +instead of me. Probably Druce. But there’ll +be several vacancies. Let’s see. Me. +Adams. Ashe. Any more? No, that’s +the lot. I should think they’d give you +a chance.”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t rot,” +said Mike uncomfortably. He had his day-dreams, +like everybody else, and they always took the form +of playing for the first eleven (and, incidentally, +making a century in record time). To have to +listen while the subject was talked about lightly made +him hot and prickly all over.</p> + +<p>“I’m not rotting,” +said Wyatt seriously, “I’ll suggest it +to Burgess to-night.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t think there’s +any chance of it, really, do you?” said Mike +awkwardly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why not? +Buck up in the scratch game this afternoon. Fielding +especially. Burgess is simply mad on fielding. +I don’t blame him either, especially as he’s +a bowler himself. He’d shove a man into +the team like a shot, whatever his batting was like, +if his fielding was something extra special. +So you field like a demon this afternoon, and I’ll +carry on the good work in the evening.”</p> + +<p>“I say,” said Mike, overcome, +“it’s awfully decent of you, Wyatt.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Billy Burgess, captain of Wrykyn cricket, +was a genial giant, who seldom allowed himself to +be ruffled. The present was one of the rare occasions +on which he permitted himself that luxury. Wyatt +found him in his study, shortly before lock-up, full +of strange oaths, like the soldier in Shakespeare.</p> + +<p>“You rotter! You rotter! +You <i>worm</i>!” he observed crisply, as Wyatt +appeared.</p> + +<p>“Dear old Billy!” said +Wyatt. “Come on, give me a kiss, and let’s +be friends.”</p> + +<p>“You——!”</p> + +<p>“William! William!”</p> + +<p>“If it wasn’t illegal, +I’d like to tie you and Ashe and that blackguard +Adams up in a big sack, and drop you into the river. +And I’d jump on the sack first. What do +you mean by letting the team down like this? +I know you were at the bottom of it all.”</p> + +<p>He struggled into his shirt—he +was changing after a bath—and his face +popped wrathfully out at the other end.</p> + +<p>“I’m awfully sorry, Bill,” +said Wyatt. “The fact is, in the excitement +of the moment the M.C.C. match went clean out of my +mind.”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t got a mind,” +grumbled Burgess. “You’ve got a cheap +brown paper substitute. That’s your trouble.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt turned the conversation tactfully.</p> + +<p>“How many wickets did you get to-day?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“Eight. For a hundred and +three. I was on the spot. Young Jackson +caught a hot one off me at third man. That kid’s +good.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you play him +against the M.C.C. on Wednesday?” said Wyatt, +jumping at his opportunity.</p> + +<p>“What? Are you sitting on my left shoe?”</p> + +<p>“No. There it is in the corner.”</p> + +<p>“Right ho!... What were you saying?”</p> + +<p>“Why not play young Jackson for the first?”</p> + +<p>“Too small.”</p> + +<p>“Rot. What does size matter? +Cricket isn’t footer. Besides, he isn’t +small. He’s as tall as I am.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose he is. Dash, I’ve dropped +my stud.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt waited patiently till he had +retrieved it. Then he returned to the attack.</p> + +<p>“He’s as good a bat as his brother, and +a better field.”</p> + +<p>“Old Bob can’t field for +toffee. I will say that for him. Dropped +a sitter off me to-day. Why the deuce fellows +can’t hold catches when they drop slowly into +their mouths I’m hanged if I can see.”</p> + +<p>“You play him,” said Wyatt. +“Just give him a trial. That kid’s +a genius at cricket. He’s going to be better +than any of his brothers, even Joe. Give him +a shot.”</p> + +<p>Burgess hesitated.</p> + +<p>“You know, it’s a bit +risky,” he said. “With you three lunatics +out of the team we can’t afford to try many +experiments. Better stick to the men at the top +of the second.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt got up, and kicked the wall +as a vent for his feelings.</p> + +<p>“You rotter,” he said. +“Can’t you <i>see</i> when you’ve +got a good man? Here’s this kid waiting +for you ready made with a style like Trumper’s, +and you rave about top men in the second, chaps who +play forward at everything, and pat half-volleys back +to the bowler! Do you realise that your only +chance of being known to Posterity is as the man who +gave M. Jackson his colours at Wrykyn? In a few +years he’ll be playing for England, and you’ll +think it a favour if he nods to you in the pav. at +Lord’s. When you’re a white-haired +old man you’ll go doddering about, gassing to +your grandchildren, poor kids, how you ‘discovered’ +M. Jackson. It’ll be the only thing they’ll +respect you for.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt stopped for breath.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Burgess, +“I’ll think it over. Frightful gift +of the gab you’ve got, Wyatt.”</p> + +<p>“Good,” said Wyatt. +“Think it over. And don’t forget what +I said about the grandchildren. You would like +little Wyatt Burgess and the other little Burgesses +to respect you in your old age, wouldn’t you? +Very well, then. So long. The bell went +ages ago. I shall be locked out.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>On the Monday morning Mike passed +the notice-board just as Burgess turned away from +pinning up the list of the team to play the M.C.C. +He read it, and his heart missed a beat. For, +bottom but one, just above the W. B. Burgess, was +a name that leaped from the paper at him. His +own name.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch13"> +CHAPTER XIII<br/><br/> +THE M.C.C. MATCH</a></h3> + +<p>If the day happens to be fine, there +is a curious, dream-like atmosphere about the opening +stages of a first eleven match. Everything seems +hushed and expectant. The rest of the school have +gone in after the interval at eleven o’clock, +and you are alone on the grounds with a cricket-bag. +The only signs of life are a few pedestrians on the +road beyond the railings and one or two blazer and +flannel-clad forms in the pavilion. The sense +of isolation is trying to the nerves, and a school +team usually bats 25 per cent. better after lunch, +when the strangeness has worn off.</p> + +<p>Mike walked across from Wain’s, +where he had changed, feeling quite hollow. He +could almost have cried with pure fright. Bob +had shouted after him from a window as he passed Donaldson’s, +to wait, so that they could walk over together; but +conversation was the last thing Mike desired at that +moment.</p> + +<p>He had almost reached the pavilion +when one of the M.C.C. team came down the steps, saw +him, and stopped dead.</p> + +<p>“By Jove, Saunders!” cried Mike.</p> + +<p>“Why, Master Mike!”</p> + +<p>The professional beamed, and quite +suddenly, the lost, hopeless feeling left Mike. +He felt as cheerful as if he and Saunders had met +in the meadow at home, and were just going to begin +a little quiet net-practice.</p> + +<p>“Why, Master Mike, you don’t +mean to say you’re playing for the school already?”</p> + +<p>Mike nodded happily.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it ripping,” he said.</p> + +<p>Saunders slapped his leg in a sort of ecstasy.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t I always say it, +sir,” he chuckled. “Wasn’t I +right? I used to say to myself it ’ud be +a pretty good school team that ’ud leave you +out.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I’m only playing +as a sub., you know. Three chaps are in extra, +and I got one of the places.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’ll make a hundred +to-day, Master Mike, and then they’ll have to +put you in.”</p> + +<p>“Wish I could!”</p> + +<p>“Master Joe’s come down with the Club,” +said Saunders.</p> + +<p>“Joe! Has he really? How ripping! +Hullo, here he is. Hullo, Joe?”</p> + +<p>The greatest of all the Jacksons was +descending the pavilion steps with the gravity befitting +an All England batsman. He stopped short, as +Saunders had done.</p> + +<p>“Mike! You aren’t playing!”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m hanged! Young marvel, +isn’t he, Saunders?”</p> + +<p>“He is, sir,” said Saunders. +“Got all the strokes. I always said it, +Master Joe. Only wants the strength.”</p> + +<p>Joe took Mike by the shoulder, and +walked him off in the direction of a man in a Zingari +blazer who was bowling slows to another of the M.C.C. +team. Mike recognised him with awe as one of the +three best amateur wicket-keepers in the country.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of this?” +said Joe, exhibiting Mike, who grinned bashfully. +“Aged ten last birthday, and playing for the +school. You are only ten, aren’t you, Mike?”</p> + +<p>“Brother of yours?” asked the wicket-keeper.</p> + +<p>“Probably too proud to own the relationship, +but he is.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t there any end to +you Jacksons?” demanded the wicket-keeper in +an aggrieved tone. “I never saw such a family.”</p> + +<p>“This is our star. You +wait till he gets at us to-day. Saunders is our +only bowler, and Mike’s been brought up on Saunders. +You’d better win the toss if you want a chance +of getting a knock and lifting your average out of +the minuses.”</p> + +<p>“I <i>have</i> won the toss,” +said the other with dignity. “Do you think +I don’t know the elementary duties of a captain?”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The school went out to field with +mixed feelings. The wicket was hard and true, +which would have made it pleasant to be going in first. +On the other hand, they would feel decidedly better +and fitter for centuries after the game had been in +progress an hour or so. Burgess was glad as a +private individual, sorry as a captain. For himself, +the sooner he got hold of the ball and began to bowl +the better he liked it. As a captain, he realised +that a side with Joe Jackson on it, not to mention +the other first-class men, was not a side to which +he would have preferred to give away an advantage. +Mike was feeling that by no possibility could he hold +the simplest catch, and hoping that nothing would +come his way. Bob, conscious of being an uncertain +field, was feeling just the same.</p> + +<p>The M.C.C. opened with Joe and a man +in an Oxford Authentic cap. The beginning of +the game was quiet. Burgess’s yorker was +nearly too much for the latter in the first over, +but he contrived to chop it away, and the pair gradually +settled down. At twenty, Joe began to open his +shoulders. Twenty became forty with disturbing +swiftness, and Burgess tried a change of bowling.</p> + +<p>It seemed for one instant as if the +move had been a success, for Joe, still taking risks, +tried to late-cut a rising ball, and snicked it straight +into Bob’s hands at second slip. It was +the easiest of slip-catches, but Bob fumbled it, dropped +it, almost held it a second time, and finally let +it fall miserably to the ground. It was a moment +too painful for words. He rolled the ball back +to the bowler in silence.</p> + +<p>One of those weary periods followed +when the batsman’s defence seems to the fieldsmen +absolutely impregnable. There was a sickening +inevitableness in the way in which every ball was played +with the very centre of the bat. And, as usual, +just when things seemed most hopeless, relief came. +The Authentic, getting in front of his wicket, to +pull one of the simplest long-hops ever seen on a cricket +field, missed it, and was l.b.w. And the next +ball upset the newcomer’s leg stump.</p> + +<p>The school revived. Bowlers and +field were infused with a new life. Another wicket—two +stumps knocked out of the ground by Burgess—helped +the thing on. When the bell rang for the end of +morning school, five wickets were down for a hundred +and thirteen.</p> + +<p>But from the end of school till lunch +things went very wrong indeed. Joe was still +in at one end, invincible; and at the other was the +great wicket-keeper. And the pair of them suddenly +began to force the pace till the bowling was in a +tangled knot. Four after four, all round the +wicket, with never a chance or a mishit to vary the +monotony. Two hundred went up, and two hundred +and fifty. Then Joe reached his century, and +was stumped next ball. Then came lunch.</p> + +<p>The rest of the innings was like the +gentle rain after the thunderstorm. Runs came +with fair regularity, but wickets fell at intervals, +and when the wicket-keeper was run out at length for +a lively sixty-three, the end was very near. +Saunders, coming in last, hit two boundaries, and +was then caught by Mike. His second hit had just +lifted the M.C.C. total over the three hundred.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Three hundred is a score that takes +some making on any ground, but on a fine day it was +not an unusual total for the Wrykyn eleven. Some +years before, against Ripton, they had run up four +hundred and sixteen; and only last season had massacred +a very weak team of Old Wrykynians with a score that +only just missed the fourth hundred.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, on the present occasion, +there was scarcely time, unless the bowling happened +to get completely collared, to make the runs. +It was a quarter to four when the innings began, and +stumps were to be drawn at a quarter to seven. +A hundred an hour is quick work.</p> + +<p>Burgess, however, was optimistic, +as usual. “Better have a go for them,” +he said to Berridge and Marsh, the school first pair.</p> + +<p>Following out this courageous advice, +Berridge, after hitting three boundaries in his first +two overs, was stumped half-way through the third.</p> + +<p>After this, things settled down. +Morris, the first-wicket man, was a thoroughly sound +bat, a little on the slow side, but exceedingly hard +to shift. He and Marsh proceeded to play themselves +in, until it looked as if they were likely to stay +till the drawing of stumps.</p> + +<p>A comfortable, rather somnolent feeling +settled upon the school. A long stand at cricket +is a soothing sight to watch. There was an absence +of hurry about the batsmen which harmonised well with +the drowsy summer afternoon. And yet runs were +coming at a fair pace. The hundred went up at +five o’clock, the hundred and fifty at half-past. +Both batsmen were completely at home, and the M.C.C. +third-change bowlers had been put on.</p> + +<p>Then the great wicket-keeper took +off the pads and gloves, and the fieldsmen retired +to posts at the extreme edge of the ground.</p> + +<p>“Lobs,” said Burgess. “By Jove, +I wish I was in.”</p> + +<p>It seemed to be the general opinion +among the members of the Wrykyn eleven on the pavilion +balcony that Morris and Marsh were in luck. The +team did not grudge them their good fortune, because +they had earned it; but they were distinctly envious.</p> + +<p>Lobs are the most dangerous, insinuating +things in the world. Everybody knows in theory +the right way to treat them. Everybody knows +that the man who is content not to try to score more +than a single cannot get out to them. Yet nearly +everybody does get out to them.</p> + +<p>It was the same story to-day. +The first over yielded six runs, all through gentle +taps along the ground. In the second, Marsh hit +an over-pitched one along the ground to the terrace +bank. The next ball he swept round to the leg +boundary. And that was the end of Marsh. +He saw himself scoring at the rate of twenty-four +an over. Off the last ball he was stumped by +several feet, having done himself credit by scoring +seventy.</p> + +<p>The long stand was followed, as usual, +by a series of disasters. Marsh’s wicket +had fallen at a hundred and eighty. Ellerby left +at a hundred and eighty-six. By the time the +scoring-board registered two hundred, five wickets +were down, three of them victims to the lobs. +Morris was still in at one end. He had refused +to be tempted. He was jogging on steadily to +his century.</p> + +<p>Bob Jackson went in next, with instructions +to keep his eye on the lob-man.</p> + +<p>For a time things went well. +Saunders, who had gone on to bowl again after a rest, +seemed to give Morris no trouble, and Bob put him +through the slips with apparent ease. Twenty runs +were added, when the lob-bowler once more got in his +deadly work. Bob, letting alone a ball wide of +the off-stump under the impression that it was going +to break away, was disagreeably surprised to find +it break in instead, and hit the wicket. The +bowler smiled sadly, as if he hated to have to do +these things.</p> + +<p>Mike’s heart jumped as he saw +the bails go. It was his turn next.</p> + +<p>“Two hundred and twenty-nine,” +said Burgess, “and it’s ten past six. +No good trying for the runs now. Stick in,” +he added to Mike. “That’s all you’ve +got to do.”</p> + +<p>All!... Mike felt as if he was +being strangled. His heart was racing like the +engines of a motor. He knew his teeth were chattering. +He wished he could stop them. What a time Bob +was taking to get back to the pavilion! He wanted +to rush out, and get the thing over.</p> + +<p>At last he arrived, and Mike, fumbling +at a glove, tottered out into the sunshine. He +heard miles and miles away a sound of clapping, and +a thin, shrill noise as if somebody were screaming +in the distance. As a matter of fact, several +members of his form and of the junior day-room at +Wain’s nearly burst themselves at that moment.</p> + +<p>At the wickets, he felt better. +Bob had fallen to the last ball of the over, and Morris, +standing ready for Saunders’s delivery, looked +so calm and certain of himself that it was impossible +to feel entirely without hope and self-confidence. +Mike knew that Morris had made ninety-eight, and he +supposed that Morris knew that he was very near his +century; yet he seemed to be absolutely undisturbed. +Mike drew courage from his attitude.</p> + +<p>Morris pushed the first ball away +to leg. Mike would have liked to have run two, +but short leg had retrieved the ball as he reached +the crease.</p> + +<p>The moment had come, the moment which +he had experienced only in dreams. And in the +dreams he was always full of confidence, and invariably +hit a boundary. Sometimes a drive, sometimes a +cut, but always a boundary.</p> + +<p>“To leg, sir,” said the umpire.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be in a funk,” +said a voice. “Play straight, and you can’t +get out.”</p> + +<p>It was Joe, who had taken the gloves +when the wicket-keeper went on to bowl.</p> + +<p>Mike grinned, wryly but gratefully.</p> + +<p>Saunders was beginning his run. +It was all so home-like that for a moment Mike felt +himself again. How often he had seen those two +little skips and the jump. It was like being +in the paddock again, with Marjory and the dogs waiting +by the railings to fetch the ball if he made a drive.</p> + +<p>Saunders ran to the crease, and bowled.</p> + +<p>Now, Saunders was a conscientious +man, and, doubtless, bowled the very best ball that +he possibly could. On the other hand, it was Mike’s +first appearance for the school, and Saunders, besides +being conscientious, was undoubtedly kind-hearted. +It is useless to speculate as to whether he was trying +to bowl his best that ball. If so, he failed +signally. It was a half-volley, just the right +distance away from the off-stump; the sort of ball +Mike was wont to send nearly through the net at home....</p> + +<p>The next moment the dreams had come +true. The umpire was signalling to the scoring-box, +the school was shouting, extra-cover was trotting to +the boundary to fetch the ball, and Mike was blushing +and wondering whether it was bad form to grin.</p> + +<p>From that ball onwards all was for +the best in this best of all possible worlds. +Saunders bowled no more half-volleys; but Mike played +everything that he did bowl. He met the lobs with +a bat like a barn-door. Even the departure of +Morris, caught in the slips off Saunders’s next +over for a chanceless hundred and five, did not disturb +him. All nervousness had left him. He felt +equal to the situation. Burgess came in, and +began to hit out as if he meant to knock off the runs. +The bowling became a shade loose. Twice he was +given full tosses to leg, which he hit to the terrace +bank. Half-past six chimed, and two hundred and +fifty went up on the telegraph board. Burgess +continued to hit. Mike’s whole soul was +concentrated on keeping up his wicket. There +was only Reeves to follow him, and Reeves was a victim +to the first straight ball. Burgess had to hit +because it was the only game he knew; but he himself +must simply stay in.</p> + +<p>The hands of the clock seemed to have +stopped. Then suddenly he heard the umpire say +“Last over,” and he settled down to keep +those six balls out of his wicket.</p> + +<p>The lob bowler had taken himself off, +and the Oxford Authentic had gone on, fast left-hand.</p> + +<p>The first ball was short and wide +of the off-stump. Mike let it alone. Number +two: yorker. Got him! Three: straight +half-volley. Mike played it back to the bowler. +Four: beat him, and missed the wicket by an inch. +Five: another yorker. Down on it again in +the old familiar way.</p> + +<p>All was well. The match was a +draw now whatever happened to him. He hit out, +almost at a venture, at the last ball, and mid-off, +jumping, just failed to reach it. It hummed over +his head, and ran like a streak along the turf and +up the bank, and a great howl of delight went up from +the school as the umpire took off the bails.</p> + +<p>Mike walked away from the wickets +with Joe and the wicket-keeper.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry about your +nose, Joe,” said the wicket-keeper in tones of +grave solicitude.</p> + +<p>“What’s wrong with it?”</p> + +<p>“At present,” said the +wicket-keeper, “nothing. But in a few years +I’m afraid it’s going to be put badly +out of joint.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch14"> +CHAPTER XIV<br/><br/> +A SLIGHT IMBROGLIO</a></h3> + +<p>Mike got his third eleven colours +after the M.C.C. match. As he had made twenty-three +not out in a crisis in a first eleven match, this +may not seem an excessive reward. But it was all +that he expected. One had to take the rungs of +the ladder singly at Wrykyn. First one was given +one’s third eleven cap. That meant, “You +are a promising man, and we have our eye on you.” +Then came the second colours. They might mean +anything from “Well, here you <i>are</i>. +You won’t get any higher, so you may as well +have the thing now,” to “This is just to +show that we still have our eye on you.”</p> + +<p>Mike was a certainty now for the second. +But it needed more than one performance to secure +the first cap.</p> + +<p>“I told you so,” said +Wyatt, naturally, to Burgess after the match.</p> + +<p>“He’s not bad,” +said Burgess. “I’ll give him another +shot.”</p> + +<p>But Burgess, as has been pointed out, +was not a person who ever became gushing with enthusiasm.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>So Wilkins, of the School House, who +had played twice for the first eleven, dropped down +into the second, as many a good man had done before +him, and Mike got his place in the next match, against +the Gentlemen of the County. Unfortunately for +him, the visiting team, however gentlemanly, were +not brilliant cricketers, at any rate as far as bowling +was concerned. The school won the toss, went in +first, and made three hundred and sixteen for five +wickets, Morris making another placid century. +The innings was declared closed before Mike had a +chance of distinguishing himself. In an innings +which lasted for one over he made two runs, not out; +and had to console himself for the cutting short of +his performance by the fact that his average for the +school was still infinity. Bob, who was one of +those lucky enough to have an unabridged innings, +did better in this match, making twenty-five. +But with Morris making a hundred and seventeen, and +Berridge, Ellerby, and Marsh all passing the half-century, +this score did not show up excessively.</p> + +<p>We now come to what was practically +a turning-point in Mike’s career at Wrykyn. +There is no doubt that his meteor-like flights at cricket +had an unsettling effect on him. He was enjoying +life amazingly, and, as is not uncommon with the prosperous, +he waxed fat and kicked. Fortunately for him—though +he did not look upon it in that light at the time—he +kicked the one person it was most imprudent to kick. +The person he selected was Firby-Smith. With +anybody else the thing might have blown over, to the +detriment of Mike’s character; but Firby-Smith, +having the most tender affection for his dignity, made +a fuss.</p> + +<p>It happened in this way. The +immediate cause of the disturbance was a remark of +Mike’s, but the indirect cause was the unbearably +patronising manner which the head of Wain’s chose +to adopt towards him. The fact that he was playing +for the school seemed to make no difference at all. +Firby-Smith continued to address Mike merely as the +small boy.</p> + +<p>The following, <i>verbatim</i>, was +the tactful speech which he addressed to him on the +evening of the M.C.C. match, having summoned him to +his study for the purpose.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “you +played a very decent innings this afternoon, and I +suppose you’re frightfully pleased with yourself, +eh? Well, mind you don’t go getting swelled +head. See? That’s all. Run along.”</p> + +<p>Mike departed, bursting with fury.</p> + +<p>The next link in the chain was forged +a week after the Gentlemen of the County match. +House matches had begun, and Wain’s were playing +Appleby’s. Appleby’s made a hundred +and fifty odd, shaping badly for the most part against +Wyatt’s slows. Then Wain’s opened +their innings. The Gazeka, as head of the house, +was captain of the side, and he and Wyatt went in +first. Wyatt made a few mighty hits, and was then +caught at cover. Mike went in first wicket.</p> + +<p>For some ten minutes all was peace. +Firby-Smith scratched away at his end, getting here +and there a single and now and then a two, and Mike +settled down at once to play what he felt was going +to be the innings of a lifetime. Appleby’s +bowling was on the feeble side, with Raikes, of the +third eleven, as the star, supported by some small +change. Mike pounded it vigorously. To one +who had been brought up on Saunders, Raikes possessed +few subtleties. He had made seventeen, and was +thoroughly set, when the Gazeka, who had the bowling, +hit one in the direction of cover-point. With +a certain type of batsman a single is a thing to take +big risks for. And the Gazeka badly wanted that +single.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” he shouted, prancing down the +pitch.</p> + +<p>Mike, who had remained in his crease +with the idea that nobody even moderately sane would +attempt a run for a hit like that, moved forward in +a startled and irresolute manner. Firby-Smith +arrived, shouting “Run!” and, cover having +thrown the ball in, the wicket-keeper removed the +bails.</p> + +<p>These are solemn moments.</p> + +<p>The only possible way of smoothing +over an episode of this kind is for the guilty man +to grovel.</p> + +<p>Firby-Smith did not grovel.</p> + +<p>“Easy run there, you know,” he said reprovingly.</p> + +<p>The world swam before Mike’s +eyes. Through the red mist he could see Firby-Smith’s +face. The sun glinted on his rather prominent +teeth. To Mike’s distorted vision it seemed +that the criminal was amused.</p> + +<p>“Don’t <i>laugh</i>, you grinning ape!” +he cried. “It isn’t funny.”</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus3"> +<img src="images/jmike3.jpg" alt="“DON’T LAUGH, YOU GRINNING APE”" /> +</a></p> + +<p>He then made for the trees where the rest of the team +were sitting.</p> + +<p>Now Firby-Smith not only possessed +rather prominent teeth; he was also sensitive on the +subject. Mike’s shaft sank in deeply. +The fact that emotion caused him to swipe at a straight +half-volley, miss it, and be bowled next ball made +the wound rankle.</p> + +<p>He avoided Mike on his return to the +trees. And Mike, feeling now a little apprehensive, +avoided him.</p> + +<p>The Gazeka brooded apart for the rest +of the afternoon, chewing the insult. At close +of play he sought Burgess.</p> + +<p>Burgess, besides being captain of +the eleven, was also head of the school. He was +the man who arranged prefects’ meetings. +And only a prefects’ meeting, thought Firby-Smith, +could adequately avenge his lacerated dignity.</p> + +<p>“I want to speak to you, Burgess,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” said Burgess.</p> + +<p>“You know young Jackson in our house.”</p> + +<p>“What about him?”</p> + +<p>“He’s been frightfully insolent.”</p> + +<p>“Cheeked you?” said Burgess, a man of +simple speech.</p> + +<p>“I want you to call a prefects’ meeting, +and lick him.”</p> + +<p>Burgess looked incredulous.</p> + +<p>“Rather a large order, a prefects’ +meeting,” he said. “It has to be a +pretty serious sort of thing for that.”</p> + +<p>“Frightful cheek to a school +prefect is a serious thing,” said Firby-Smith, +with the air of one uttering an epigram.</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose—What did he say +to you?”</p> + +<p>Firby-Smith related the painful details.</p> + +<p>Burgess started to laugh, but turned the laugh into +a cough.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said meditatively. +“Rather thick. Still, I mean—A +prefects’ meeting. Rather like crushing +a thingummy with a what-d’you-call-it. +Besides, he’s a decent kid.”</p> + +<p>“He’s frightfully conceited.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well—Well, anyhow, +look here, I’ll think it over, and let you know +to-morrow. It’s not the sort of thing to +rush through without thinking about it.”</p> + +<p>And the matter was left temporarily at that.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch15"> +CHAPTER XV<br/><br/> +MIKE CREATES A VACANCY</a></h3> + +<p>Burgess walked off the ground feeling +that fate was not using him well.</p> + +<p>Here was he, a well-meaning youth +who wanted to be on good terms with all the world, +being jockeyed into slaughtering a kid whose batting +he admired and whom personally he liked. And +the worst of it was that he sympathised with Mike. +He knew what it felt like to be run out just when +one had got set, and he knew exactly how maddening +the Gazeka’s manner would be on such an occasion. +On the other hand, officially he was bound to support +the head of Wain’s. Prefects must stand +together or chaos will come.</p> + +<p>He thought he would talk it over with +somebody. Bob occurred to him. It was only +fair that Bob should be told, as the nearest of kin.</p> + +<p>And here was another grievance against +fate. Bob was a person he did not particularly +wish to see just then. For that morning he had +posted up the list of the team to play for the school +against Geddington, one of the four schools which +Wrykyn met at cricket; and Bob’s name did not +appear on that list. Several things had contributed +to that melancholy omission. In the first place, +Geddington, to judge from the weekly reports in the +<i>Sportsman</i> and <i>Field</i>, were strong this +year at batting. In the second place, the results +of the last few matches, and particularly the M.C.C. +match, had given Burgess the idea that Wrykyn was +weak at bowling. It became necessary, therefore, +to drop a batsman out of the team in favour of a bowler. +And either Mike or Bob must be the man.</p> + +<p>Burgess was as rigidly conscientious +as the captain of a school eleven should be. +Bob was one of his best friends, and he would have +given much to be able to put him in the team; but +he thought the thing over, and put the temptation +sturdily behind him. At batting there was not +much to choose between the two, but in fielding there +was a great deal. Mike was good. Bob was +bad. So out Bob had gone, and Neville-Smith, a +fair fast bowler at all times and on his day dangerous, +took his place.</p> + +<p>These clashings of public duty with +private inclination are the drawbacks to the despotic +position of captain of cricket at a public school. +It is awkward having to meet your best friend after +you have dropped him from the team, and it is difficult +to talk to him as if nothing had happened.</p> + +<p>Burgess felt very self-conscious as +he entered Bob’s study, and was rather glad +that he had a topic of conversation ready to hand.</p> + +<p>“Busy, Bob?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” said Bob, with +a cheerfulness rather over-done in his anxiety to +show Burgess, the man, that he did not hold him responsible +in any way for the distressing acts of Burgess, the +captain. “Take a pew. Don’t +these studies get beastly hot this weather. There’s +some ginger-beer in the cupboard. Have some?”</p> + +<p>“No, thanks. I say, Bob, look here, I want +to see you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you can, can’t +you? This is me, sitting over here. The tall, +dark, handsome chap.”</p> + +<p>“It’s awfully awkward, +you know,” continued Burgess gloomily; “that +ass of a young brother of yours—Sorry, but +he <i>is</i> an ass, though he’s your brother——”</p> + +<p>“Thanks for the ‘though,’ +Billy. You know how to put a thing nicely. +What’s Mike been up to?”</p> + +<p>“It’s that old fool the +Gazeka. He came to me frothing with rage, and +wanted me to call a prefects’ meeting and touch +young Mike up.”</p> + +<p>Bob displayed interest and excitement +for the first time.</p> + +<p>“Prefects’ meeting! +What the dickens is up? What’s he been doing? +Smith must be drunk. What’s all the row +about?”</p> + +<p>Burgess repeated the main facts of +the case as he had them from Firby-Smith.</p> + +<p>“Personally, I sympathise with +the kid,” he added, “Still, the Gazeka +<i>is</i> a prefect——”</p> + +<p>Bob gnawed a pen-holder morosely.</p> + +<p>“Silly young idiot,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Sickening thing being run out,” suggested +Burgess.</p> + +<p>“Still——”</p> + +<p>“I know. It’s rather +hard to see what to do. I suppose if the Gazeka +insists, one’s bound to support him.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so.”</p> + +<p>“Awful rot. Prefects’ +lickings aren’t meant for that sort of thing. +They’re supposed to be for kids who steal buns +at the shop or muck about generally. Not for +a chap who curses a fellow who runs him out. +I tell you what, there’s just a chance Firby-Smith +won’t press the thing. He hadn’t +had time to get over it when he saw me. By now +he’ll have simmered down a bit. Look here, +you’re a pal of his, aren’t you? +Well, go and ask him to drop the business. Say +you’ll curse your brother and make him apologise, +and that I’ll kick him out of the team for the +Geddington match.”</p> + +<p>It was a difficult moment for Bob. +One cannot help one’s thoughts, and for an instant +the idea of going to Geddington with the team, as he +would certainly do if Mike did not play, made him waver. +But he recovered himself.</p> + +<p>“Don’t do that,” +he said. “I don’t see there’s +a need for anything of that sort. You must play +the best side you’ve got. I can easily talk +the old Gazeka over. He gets all right in a second +if he’s treated the right way. I’ll +go and do it now.”</p> + +<p>Burgess looked miserable.</p> + +<p>“I say, Bob,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing—I mean, +you’re not a bad sort.” With which +glowing eulogy he dashed out of the room, thanking +his stars that he had won through a confoundedly awkward +business.</p> + +<p>Bob went across to Wain’s to interview and soothe +Firby-Smith.</p> + +<p>He found that outraged hero sitting +moodily in his study like Achilles in his tent.</p> + +<p>Seeing Bob, he became all animation.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he said, +“I wanted to see you. You know, that frightful +young brother of yours——”</p> + +<p>“I know, I know,” said +Bob. “Burgess was telling me. He wants +kicking.”</p> + +<p>“He wants a frightful licking +from the prefects,” emended the aggrieved party.</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know, you +know. Not much good lugging the prefects into +it, is there? I mean, apart from everything else, +not much of a catch for me, would it be, having to +sit there and look on. I’m a prefect, too, +you know.”</p> + +<p>Firby-Smith looked a little blank +at this. He had a great admiration for Bob.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t think of you,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I thought you hadn’t,” said Bob. +“You see it now, though, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>Firby-Smith returned to the original grievance.</p> + +<p>“Well, you know, it was frightful cheek.”</p> + +<p>“Of course it was. Still, +I think if I saw him and cursed him, and sent him +up to you to apologise—How would that do?”</p> + +<p>“All right. After all, I did run him out.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there’s that, of +course. Mike’s all right, really. It +isn’t as if he did that sort of thing as a habit.”</p> + +<p>“No. All right then.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Bob, and went to find Mike.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The lecture on deportment which he +read that future All-England batsman in a secluded +passage near the junior day-room left the latter rather +limp and exceedingly meek. For the moment all +the jauntiness and exuberance had been drained out +of him. He was a punctured balloon. Reflection, +and the distinctly discouraging replies of those experts +in school law to whom he had put the question, “What +d’you think he’ll do?” had induced +a very chastened frame of mind.</p> + +<p>He perceived that he had walked very +nearly into a hornets’ nest, and the realisation +of his escape made him agree readily to all the conditions +imposed. The apology to the Gazeka was made without +reserve, and the offensively forgiving, say-no-more-about-it-but-take-care-in-future +air of the head of the house roused no spark of resentment +in him, so subdued was his fighting spirit. All +he wanted was to get the thing done with. He +was not inclined to be critical.</p> + +<p>And, most of all, he felt grateful +to Bob. Firby-Smith, in the course of his address, +had not omitted to lay stress on the importance of +Bob’s intervention. But for Bob, he gave +him to understand, he, Mike, would have been prosecuted +with the utmost rigour of the law. Mike came +away with a confused picture in his mind of a horde +of furious prefects bent on his slaughter, after the +manner of a stage “excited crowd,” and +Bob waving them back. He realised that Bob had +done him a good turn. He wished he could find +some way of repaying him.</p> + +<p>Curiously enough, it was an enemy +of Bob’s who suggested the way—Burton, +of Donaldson’s. Burton was a slippery young +gentleman, fourteen years of age, who had frequently +come into contact with Bob in the house, and owed +him many grudges. With Mike he had always tried +to form an alliance, though without success.</p> + +<p>He happened to meet Mike going to +school next morning, and unburdened his soul to him. +It chanced that Bob and he had had another small encounter +immediately after breakfast, and Burton felt revengeful.</p> + +<p>“I say,” said Burton, +“I’m jolly glad you’re playing for +the first against Geddington.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“I’m specially glad for one reason.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” inquired Mike, without +interest.</p> + +<p>“Because your beast of a brother +has been chucked out. He’d have been playing +but for you.”</p> + +<p>At any other time Mike would have +heard Bob called a beast without active protest. +He would have felt that it was no business of his to +fight his brother’s battles for him. But +on this occasion he deviated from his rule.</p> + +<p>He kicked Burton. Not once or +twice, but several times, so that Burton, retiring +hurriedly, came to the conclusion that it must be +something in the Jackson blood, some taint, as it were. +They were <i>all</i> beasts.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mike walked on, weighing this remark, +and gradually made up his mind. It must be remembered +that he was in a confused mental condition, and that +the only thing he realised clearly was that Bob had +pulled him out of an uncommonly nasty hole. It +seemed to him that it was necessary to repay Bob. +He thought the thing over more fully during school, +and his decision remained unaltered.</p> + +<p>On the evening before the Geddington +match, just before lock-up, Mike tapped at Burgess’s +study door. He tapped with his right hand, for +his left was in a sling.</p> + +<p>“Come in!” yelled the captain. “Hullo!”</p> + +<p>“I’m awfully sorry, Burgess,” +said Mike. “I’ve crocked my wrist +a bit.”</p> + +<p>“How did you do that? You were all right +at the nets?”</p> + +<p>“Slipped as I was changing,” said Mike +stolidly.</p> + +<p>“Is it bad?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing much. I’m afraid I shan’t +be able to play to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“I say, that’s bad luck. +Beastly bad luck. We wanted your batting, too. +Be all right, though, in a day or two, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, rather.”</p> + +<p>“Hope so, anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks. Good-night.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night.”</p> + +<p>And Burgess, with the comfortable +feeling that he had managed to combine duty and pleasure +after all, wrote a note to Bob at Donaldson’s, +telling him to be ready to start with the team for +Geddington by the 8.54 next morning.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch16"> +CHAPTER XVI<br/><br/> +AN EXPERT EXAMINATION</a></h3> + +<p>Mike’s Uncle John was a wanderer +on the face of the earth. He had been an army +surgeon in the days of his youth, and, after an adventurous +career, mainly in Afghanistan, had inherited enough +money to keep him in comfort for the rest of his life. +He had thereupon left the service, and now spent most +of his time flitting from one spot of Europe to another. +He had been dashing up to Scotland on the day when +Mike first became a Wrykynian, but a few weeks in an +uncomfortable hotel in Skye and a few days in a comfortable +one in Edinburgh had left him with the impression +that he had now seen all that there was to be seen +in North Britain and might reasonably shift his camp +again.</p> + +<p>Coming south, he had looked in on +Mike’s people for a brief space, and, at the +request of Mike’s mother, took the early express +to Wrykyn in order to pay a visit of inspection.</p> + +<p>His telegram arrived during morning +school. Mike went down to the station to meet +him after lunch.</p> + +<p>Uncle John took command of the situation at once.</p> + +<p>“School playing anybody to-day, Mike? I +want to see a match.”</p> + +<p>“They’re playing Geddington. +Only it’s away. There’s a second match +on.”</p> + +<p>“Why aren’t you—Hullo, +I didn’t see. What have you been doing to +yourself?”</p> + +<p>“Crocked my wrist a bit. It’s nothing +much.”</p> + +<p>“How did you do that?”</p> + +<p>“Slipped while I was changing after cricket.”</p> + +<p>“Hurt?”</p> + +<p>“Not much, thanks.”</p> + +<p>“Doctor seen it?”</p> + +<p>“No. But it’s really nothing. +Be all right by Monday.”</p> + +<p>“H’m. Somebody ought to look at it. +I’ll have a look later on.”</p> + +<p>Mike did not appear to relish this prospect.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t anything, Uncle John, really. +It doesn’t matter a bit.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind. It won’t +do any harm having somebody examine it who knows a +bit about these things. Now, what shall we do. +Go on the river?”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t be able to steer.”</p> + +<p>“I could manage about that. +Still, I think I should like to see the place first. +Your mother’s sure to ask me if you showed me +round. It’s like going over the stables +when you’re stopping at a country-house. +Got to be done, and better do it as soon as possible.”</p> + +<p>It is never very interesting playing +the part of showman at school. Both Mike and +his uncle were inclined to scamp the business. +Mike pointed out the various landmarks without much +enthusiasm—it is only after one has left +a few years that the school buildings take to themselves +romance—and Uncle John said, “Ah yes, +I see. Very nice,” two or three times in +an absent voice; and they passed on to the cricket +field, where the second eleven were playing a neighbouring +engineering school. It was a glorious day. +The sun had never seemed to Mike so bright or the +grass so green. It was one of those days when +the ball looks like a large vermilion-coloured football +as it leaves the bowler’s hand. If ever +there was a day when it seemed to Mike that a century +would have been a certainty, it was this Saturday. +A sudden, bitter realisation of all he had given up +swept over him, but he choked the feeling down. +The thing was done, and it was no good brooding over +the might-have-beens now. Still—And +the Geddington ground was supposed to be one of the +easiest scoring grounds of all the public schools!</p> + +<p>“Well hit, by George!” +remarked Uncle John, as Trevor, who had gone in first +wicket for the second eleven, swept a half-volley to +leg round to the bank where they were sitting.</p> + +<p>“That’s Trevor,” +said Mike. “Chap in Donaldson’s. +The fellow at the other end is Wilkins. He’s +in the School House. They look as if they were +getting set. By Jove,” he said enviously, +“pretty good fun batting on a day like this.”</p> + +<p>Uncle John detected the envious note.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you would have been playing here +but for your wrist?”</p> + +<p>“No, I was playing for the first.”</p> + +<p>“For the first? For the +school! My word, Mike, I didn’t know that. +No wonder you’re feeling badly treated. +Of course, I remember your father saying you had played +once for the school, and done well; but I thought +that was only as a substitute. I didn’t +know you were a regular member of the team. What +bad luck. Will you get another chance?”</p> + +<p>“Depends on Bob.”</p> + +<p>“Has Bob got your place?”</p> + +<p>Mike nodded.</p> + +<p>“If he does well to-day, they’ll probably +keep him in.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t there room for both of you?”</p> + +<p>“Such a lot of old colours. +There are only three vacancies, and Henfrey got one +of those a week ago. I expect they’ll give +one of the other two to a bowler, Neville-Smith, I +should think, if he does well against Geddington. +Then there’ll be only the last place left.”</p> + +<p>“Rather awkward, that.”</p> + +<p>“Still, it’s Bob’s +last year. I’ve got plenty of time. +But I wish I could get in this year.”</p> + +<p>After they had watched the match for +an hour, Uncle John’s restless nature asserted +itself.</p> + +<p>“Suppose we go for a pull on the river now?” +he suggested.</p> + +<p>They got up.</p> + +<p>“Let’s just call at the +shop,” said Mike. “There ought to +be a telegram from Geddington by this time. I +wonder how Bob’s got on.”</p> + +<p>Apparently Bob had not had a chance +yet of distinguishing himself. The telegram read, +“Geddington 151 for four. Lunch.”</p> + +<p>“Not bad that,” said Mike. +“But I believe they’re weak in bowling.”</p> + +<p>They walked down the road towards +the school landing-stage.</p> + +<p>“The worst of a school,” +said Uncle John, as he pulled up-stream with strong, +unskilful stroke, “is that one isn’t allowed +to smoke on the grounds. I badly want a pipe. +The next piece of shade that you see, sing out, and +we’ll put in there.”</p> + +<p>“Pull your left,” said +Mike. “That willow’s what you want.”</p> + +<p>Uncle John looked over his shoulder, +caught a crab, recovered himself, and steered the +boat in under the shade of the branches.</p> + +<p>“Put the rope over that stump. +Can you manage with one hand? Here, let me—Done +it? Good. A-ah!”</p> + +<p>He blew a great cloud of smoke into +the air, and sighed contentedly.</p> + +<p>“I hope you don’t smoke, Mike?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Rotten trick for a boy. +When you get to my age you need it. Boys ought +to be thinking about keeping themselves fit and being +good at games. Which reminds me. Let’s +have a look at the wrist.”</p> + +<p>A hunted expression came into Mike’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“It’s really nothing,” +he began, but his uncle had already removed the sling, +and was examining the arm with the neat rapidity of +one who has been brought up to such things.</p> + +<p>To Mike it seemed as if everything +in the world was standing still and waiting. +He could hear nothing but his own breathing.</p> + +<p>His uncle pressed the wrist gingerly +once or twice, then gave it a little twist.</p> + +<p>“That hurt?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Ye—no,” stammered Mike.</p> + +<p>Uncle John looked up sharply. Mike was crimson.</p> + +<p>“What’s the game?” inquired Uncle +John.</p> + +<p>Mike said nothing.</p> + +<p>There was a twinkle in his uncle’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“May as well tell me. I +won’t give you away. Why this wounded warrior +business when you’ve no more the matter with +you than I have?”</p> + +<p>Mike hesitated.</p> + +<p> +“I only wanted to get out of having to write this morning. There was an exam +on.” +</p> + +<p>The idea had occurred to him just +before he spoke. It had struck him as neat and +plausible.</p> + +<p>To Uncle John it did not appear in the same light.</p> + +<p>“Do you always write with your +left hand? And if you had gone with the first +eleven to Geddington, wouldn’t that have got +you out of your exam? Try again.”</p> + +<p>When in doubt, one may as well tell the truth. +Mike told it.</p> + +<p>“I know. It wasn’t that, really. +Only——”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, dash it all then. +Old Bob got me out of an awful row the day before +yesterday, and he seemed a bit sick at not playing +for the first, so I thought I might as well let him. +That’s how it was. Look here, swear you +won’t tell him.”</p> + +<p>Uncle John was silent. Inwardly +he was deciding that the five shillings which he had +intended to bestow on Mike on his departure should +become a sovereign. (This, it may be mentioned as an +interesting biographical fact, was the only occasion +in his life on which Mike earned money at the rate +of fifteen shillings a half-minute.)</p> + +<p>“Swear you won’t tell him. He’d +be most frightfully sick if he knew.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t tell him.”</p> + +<p>Conversation dwindled to vanishing-point. +Uncle John smoked on in weighty silence, while Mike, +staring up at the blue sky through the branches of +the willow, let his mind wander to Geddington, where +his fate was even now being sealed. How had the +school got on? What had Bob done? If he +made about twenty, would they give him his cap? +Supposing....</p> + +<p>A faint snore from Uncle John broke +in on his meditations. Then there was a clatter +as a briar pipe dropped on to the floor of the boat, +and his uncle sat up, gaping.</p> + +<p>“Jove, I was nearly asleep. +What’s the time? Just on six? Didn’t +know it was so late.”</p> + +<p>“I ought to be getting back +soon, I think. Lock-up’s at half-past.”</p> + +<p>“Up with the anchor, then. +You can tackle that rope with two hands now, eh? +We are not observed. Don’t fall overboard. +I’m going to shove her off.”</p> + +<p>“There’ll be another telegram, +I should think,” said Mike, as they reached +the school gates.</p> + +<p>“Shall we go and look?”</p> + +<p>They walked to the shop.</p> + +<p>A second piece of grey paper had been +pinned up under the first. Mike pushed his way +through the crowd. It was a longer message this +time.</p> + +<p>It ran as follows:</p> + +<p>“Geddington 247 (Burgess six +wickets, Neville-Smith four).<br/> +Wrykyn 270 for nine (Berridge 86, Marsh 58, Jackson 48).”</p> + +<p>Mike worked his way back through the throng, and rejoined +his uncle.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Uncle John.</p> + +<p>“We won.”</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Bob made forty-eight,” he added carelessly.</p> + +<p>Uncle John felt in his pocket, and +silently slid a sovereign into Mike’s hand.</p> + +<p>It was the only possible reply.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch17"> +CHAPTER XVII<br/><br/> +ANOTHER VACANCY</a></h3> + +<p>Wyatt got back late that night, arriving +at the dormitory as Mike was going to bed.</p> + +<p>“By Jove, I’m done,” +he said. “It was simply baking at Geddington. +And I came back in a carriage with Neville-Smith and +Ellerby, and they ragged the whole time. I wanted +to go to sleep, only they wouldn’t let me. +Old Smith was awfully bucked because he’d taken +four wickets. I should think he’d go off +his nut if he took eight ever. He was singing +comic songs when he wasn’t trying to put Ellerby +under the seat. How’s your wrist?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, better, thanks.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt began to undress.</p> + +<p>“Any colours?” asked Mike +after a pause. First eleven colours were generally +given in the pavilion after a match or on the journey +home.</p> + +<p>“No. Only one or two thirds. +Jenkins and Clephane, and another chap, can’t +remember who. No first, though.”</p> + +<p>“What was Bob’s innings like?”</p> + +<p>“Not bad. A bit lucky. +He ought to have been out before he’d scored, +and he was out when he’d made about sixteen, +only the umpire didn’t seem to know that it’s +l-b-w when you get your leg right in front of the +wicket and the ball hits it. Never saw a clearer +case in my life. I was in at the other end. +Bit rotten for the Geddington chaps. Just lost +them the match. Their umpire, too. Bit of +luck for Bob. He didn’t give the ghost +of a chance after that.”</p> + +<p>“I should have thought they’d +have given him his colours.”</p> + +<p>“Most captains would have done, +only Burgess is so keen on fielding that he rather +keeps off it.”</p> + +<p>“Why, did he field badly?”</p> + +<p>“Rottenly. And the man +always will choose Billy’s bowling to drop catches +off. And Billy would cut his rich uncle from Australia +if he kept on dropping them off him. Bob’s +fielding’s perfectly sinful. He was pretty +bad at the beginning of the season, but now he’s +got so nervous that he’s a dozen times worse. +He turns a delicate green when he sees a catch coming. +He let their best man off twice in one over, off Billy, +to-day; and the chap went on and made a hundred odd. +Ripping innings bar those two chances. I hear +he’s got an average of eighty in school matches +this season. Beastly man to bowl to. Knocked +me off in half a dozen overs. And, when he does +give a couple of easy chances, Bob puts them both +on the floor. Billy wouldn’t have given +him his cap after the match if he’d made a hundred. +Bob’s the sort of man who wouldn’t catch +a ball if you handed it to him on a plate, with watercress +round it.”</p> + +<p>Burgess, reviewing the match that +night, as he lay awake in his cubicle, had come to +much the same conclusion. He was very fond of +Bob, but two missed catches in one over was straining +the bonds of human affection too far. There would +have been serious trouble between David and Jonathan +if either had persisted in dropping catches off the +other’s bowling. He writhed in bed as he +remembered the second of the two chances which the +wretched Bob had refused. The scene was indelibly +printed on his mind. Chap had got a late cut which +he fancied rather. With great guile he had fed +this late cut. Sent down a couple which he put +to the boundary. Then fired a third much faster +and a bit shorter. Chap had a go at it, just as +he had expected: and he felt that life was a +good thing after all when the ball just touched the +corner of the bat and flew into Bob’s hands. +And Bob dropped it!</p> + +<p>The memory was too bitter. If +he dwelt on it, he felt, he would get insomnia. +So he turned to pleasanter reflections: the yorker +which had shattered the second-wicket man, and the +slow head-ball which had led to a big hitter being +caught on the boundary. Soothed by these memories, +he fell asleep.</p> + +<p>Next morning he found himself in a +softened frame of mind. He thought of Bob’s +iniquities with sorrow rather than wrath. He felt +towards him much as a father feels towards a prodigal +son whom there is still a chance of reforming. +He overtook Bob on his way to chapel.</p> + +<p>Directness was always one of Burgess’s +leading qualities.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Bob. About +your fielding. It’s simply awful.”</p> + +<p>Bob was all remorse.</p> + +<p>“It’s those beastly slip catches. +I can’t time them.”</p> + +<p>“That one yesterday was right into your hands. +Both of them were.”</p> + +<p>“I know. I’m frightfully sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Well, but I mean, why <i>can’t</i> +you hold them? It’s no good being a good +bat—you’re that all right—if +you’re going to give away runs in the field.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know, I believe I should +do better in the deep. I could get time to watch +them there. I wish you’d give me a shot +in the deep—for the second.”</p> + +<p>“Second be blowed! I want +your batting in the first. Do you think you’d +really do better in the deep?”</p> + +<p>“I’m almost certain I +should. I’ll practise like mad. Trevor’ll +hit me up catches. I hate the slips. I get +in the dickens of a funk directly the bowler starts +his run now. I know that if a catch does come, +I shall miss it. I’m certain the deep would +be much better.”</p> + +<p>“All right then. Try it.”</p> + +<p>The conversation turned to less pressing topics.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In the next two matches, accordingly, +Bob figured on the boundary, where he had not much +to do except throw the ball back to the bowler, and +stop an occasional drive along the carpet. The +beauty of fielding in the deep is that no unpleasant +surprises can be sprung upon one. There is just +that moment or two for collecting one’s thoughts +which makes the whole difference. Bob, as he +stood regarding the game from afar, found his self-confidence +returning slowly, drop by drop.</p> + +<p>As for Mike, he played for the second, +and hoped for the day.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>His opportunity came at last. +It will be remembered that on the morning after the +Great Picnic the headmaster made an announcement in +Hall to the effect that, owing to an outbreak of chicken-pox +in the town, all streets except the High Street would +be out of bounds. This did not affect the bulk +of the school, for most of the shops to which any +one ever thought of going were in the High Street. +But there were certain inquiring minds who liked to +ferret about in odd corners.</p> + +<p>Among these was one Leather-Twigg, +of Seymour’s, better known in criminal circles +as Shoeblossom.</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom was a curious mixture +of the Energetic Ragger and the Quiet Student. +On a Monday evening you would hear a hideous uproar +proceeding from Seymour’s junior day-room; and, +going down with a swagger-stick to investigate, you +would find a tangled heap of squealing humanity on +the floor, and at the bottom of the heap, squealing +louder than any two others, would be Shoeblossom, his +collar burst and blackened and his face apoplectically +crimson. On the Tuesday afternoon, strolling +in some shady corner of the grounds you would come +upon him lying on his chest, deep in some work of fiction +and resentful of interruption. On the Wednesday +morning he would be in receipt of four hundred lines +from his housemaster for breaking three windows and +a gas-globe. Essentially a man of moods, Shoeblossom.</p> + +<p>It happened about the date of the +Geddington match that he took out from the school +library a copy of “The Iron Pirate,” and +for the next day or two he wandered about like a lost +spirit trying to find a sequestered spot in which +to read it. His inability to hit on such a spot +was rendered more irritating by the fact that, to judge +from the first few chapters (which he had managed +to get through during prep. one night under the eye +of a short-sighted master), the book was obviously +the last word in hot stuff. He tried the junior +day-room, but people threw cushions at him. He +tried out of doors, and a ball hit from a neighbouring +net nearly scalped him. Anything in the nature +of concentration became impossible in these circumstances.</p> + +<p>Then he recollected that in a quiet +backwater off the High Street there was a little confectioner’s +shop, where tea might be had at a reasonable sum, +and also, what was more important, peace.</p> + +<p>He made his way there, and in the +dingy back shop, all amongst the dust and bluebottles, +settled down to a thoughtful perusal of chapter six.</p> + +<p>Upstairs, at the same moment, the +doctor was recommending that Master John George, the +son of the house, be kept warm and out of draughts +and not permitted to scratch himself, however necessary +such an action might seem to him. In brief, he +was attending J. G. for chicken-pox.</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom came away, entering the +High Street furtively, lest Authority should see him +out of bounds, and returned to the school, where he +went about his lawful occasions as if there were no +such thing as chicken-pox in the world.</p> + +<p>But all the while the microbe was +getting in some unostentatious but clever work. +A week later Shoeblossom began to feel queer. +He had occasional headaches, and found himself oppressed +by a queer distaste for food. The professional +advice of Dr. Oakes, the school doctor, was called +for, and Shoeblossom took up his abode in the Infirmary, +where he read <i>Punch</i>, sucked oranges, and thought +of Life.</p> + +<p>Two days later Barry felt queer. +He, too, disappeared from Society.</p> + +<p>Chicken-pox is no respecter of persons. +The next victim was Marsh, of the first eleven. +Marsh, who was top of the school averages. Where +were his drives now, his late cuts that were wont to +set the pavilion in a roar. Wrapped in a blanket, +and looking like the spotted marvel of a travelling +circus, he was driven across to the Infirmary in a +four-wheeler, and it became incumbent upon Burgess +to select a substitute for him.</p> + +<p>And so it came about that Mike soared +once again into the ranks of the elect, and found +his name down in the team to play against the Incogniti.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch18"> +CHAPTER XVIII<br/><br/> +BOB HAS NEWS TO IMPART</a></h3> + +<p>Wrykyn went down badly before the +Incogs. It generally happens at least once in +a school cricket season that the team collapses hopelessly, +for no apparent reason. Some schools do it in +nearly every match, but Wrykyn so far had been particularly +fortunate this year. They had only been beaten +once, and that by a mere twenty odd runs in a hard-fought +game. But on this particular day, against a not +overwhelmingly strong side, they failed miserably. +The weather may have had something to do with it, +for rain fell early in the morning, and the school, +batting first on the drying wicket, found themselves +considerably puzzled by a slow left-hander. Morris +and Berridge left with the score still short of ten, +and after that the rout began. Bob, going in +fourth wicket, made a dozen, and Mike kept his end +up, and was not out eleven; but nobody except Wyatt, +who hit out at everything and knocked up thirty before +he was stumped, did anything to distinguish himself. +The total was a hundred and seven, and the Incogniti, +batting when the wicket was easier, doubled this.</p> + +<p>The general opinion of the school +after this match was that either Mike or Bob would +have to stand down from the team when it was definitely +filled up, for Neville-Smith, by showing up well with +the ball against the Incogniti when the others failed +with the bat, made it practically certain that he +would get one of the two vacancies.</p> + +<p>“If I do” he said to Wyatt, +“there will be the biggest bust of modern times +at my place. My pater is away for a holiday in +Norway, and I’m alone, bar the servants. +And I can square them. Will you come?”</p> + +<p>“Tea?”</p> + +<p>“Tea!” said Neville-Smith scornfully.</p> + +<p>“Well, what then?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you ever have feeds +in the dorms. after lights-out in the houses?”</p> + +<p>“Used to when I was a kid. +Too old now. Have to look after my digestion. +I remember, three years ago, when Wain’s won +the footer cup, we got up and fed at about two in +the morning. All sorts of luxuries. Sardines +on sugar-biscuits. I’ve got the taste in +my mouth still. Do you remember Macpherson? +Left a couple of years ago. His food ran out, +so he spread brown-boot polish on bread, and ate that. +Got through a slice, too. Wonderful chap! +But what about this thing of yours? What time’s +it going to be?”</p> + +<p>“Eleven suit you?”</p> + +<p>“All right.”</p> + +<p>“How about getting out?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it as quickly +as the team did to-day. I can’t say more +than that.”</p> + +<p>“You were all right.”</p> + +<p>“I’m an exceptional sort of chap.”</p> + +<p>“What about the Jacksons?”</p> + +<p>“It’s going to be a close +thing. If Bob’s fielding were to improve +suddenly, he would just do it. But young Mike’s +all over him as a bat. In a year or two that +kid’ll be a marvel. He’s bound to +get in next year, of course, so perhaps it would be +better if Bob got the place as it’s his last +season. Still, one wants the best man, of course.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mike avoided Bob as much as possible +during this anxious period; and he privately thought +it rather tactless of the latter when, meeting him +one day outside Donaldson’s, he insisted on his +coming in and having some tea.</p> + +<p>Mike shuffled uncomfortably as his +brother filled the kettle and lit the Etna. It +required more tact than he had at his disposal to carry +off a situation like this.</p> + +<p>Bob, being older, was more at his +ease. He got tea ready, making desultory conversation +the while, as if there were no particular reason why +either of them should feel uncomfortable in the other’s +presence. When he had finished, he poured Mike +out a cup, passed him the bread, and sat down.</p> + +<p>“Not seen much of each other lately, Mike, what?”</p> + +<p>Mike murmured unintelligibly through a mouthful of +bread-and-jam.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good pretending +it isn’t an awkward situation,” continued +Bob, “because it is. Beastly awkward.”</p> + +<p>“Awful rot the pater sending us to the same +school.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know. +We’ve all been at Wrykyn. Pity to spoil +the record. It’s your fault for being such +a young Infant Prodigy, and mine for not being able +to field like an ordinary human being.”</p> + +<p>“You get on much better in the deep.”</p> + +<p>“Bit better, yes. Liable +at any moment to miss a sitter, though. Not that +it matters much really whether I do now.”</p> + +<p>Mike stared.</p> + +<p>“What! Why?”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I wanted +to see you about. Has Burgess said anything to +you yet?”</p> + +<p>“No. Why? What about?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve a sort of +idea our little race is over. I fancy you’ve +won.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve not heard a word——”</p> + +<p> +“I have. I’ll tell you what makes me think the thing’s settled. I was in the +pav. just now, in the First room, trying to find a batting-glove I’d mislaid. +There was a copy of the <i>Wrykynian</i> lying on the mantelpiece, and I picked +it up and started reading it. So there wasn’t any noise to show anybody outside +that there was some one in the room. And then I heard Burgess and Spence jawing +on the steps. They thought the place was empty, of course. I couldn’t help +hearing what they said. The pav.’s like a sounding-board. I heard every word. +Spence said, ‘Well, it’s about as difficult a problem as any captain of cricket +at Wrykyn has ever had to tackle.’ I had a sort of idea that old Billy liked to +boss things all on his own, but apparently he does consult Spence sometimes. +After all, he’s cricket-master, and that’s what he’s there for. Well, Billy +said, ‘I don’t know what to do. What do you think, sir?’ Spence said, ‘Well, +I’ll give you my opinion, Burgess, but don’t feel bound to act on it. I’m +simply saying what I think.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said old Bill, doing a big Young +Disciple with Wise Master act. ‘<i>I</i> think M.,’ said Spence. ‘Decidedly M. +He’s a shade better than R. now, and in a year or two, of course, there’ll be +no comparison.’” +</p> + +<p>“Oh, rot,” muttered Mike, +wiping the sweat off his forehead. This was one +of the most harrowing interviews he had ever been through.</p> + +<p>“Not at all. Billy agreed +with him. ‘That’s just what I think, +sir,’ he said. ‘It’s rough +on Bob, but still——’ And then +they walked down the steps. I waited a bit to +give them a good start, and then sheered off myself. +And so home.”</p> + +<p>Mike looked at the floor, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>There was nothing much to <i>be</i> said.</p> + +<p>“Well, what I wanted to see +you about was this,” resumed Bob. “I +don’t propose to kiss you or anything; but, +on the other hand, don’t let’s go to the +other extreme. I’m not saying that it isn’t +a bit of a brick just missing my cap like this, but +it would have been just as bad for you if you’d +been the one dropped. It’s the fortune of +war. I don’t want you to go about feeling +that you’ve blighted my life, and so on, and +dashing up side-streets to avoid me because you think +the sight of you will be painful. As it isn’t +me, I’m jolly glad it’s you; and I shall +cadge a seat in the pavilion from you when you’re +playing for England at the Oval. Congratulate +you.”</p> + +<p>It was the custom at Wrykyn, when +you congratulated a man on getting colours, to shake +his hand. They shook hands.</p> + +<p>“Thanks, awfully, Bob,” +said Mike. And after that there seemed to be +nothing much to talk about. So Mike edged out +of the room, and tore across to Wain’s.</p> + +<p>He was sorry for Bob, but he would +not have been human (which he certainly was) if the +triumph of having won through at last into the first +eleven had not dwarfed commiseration. It had been +his one ambition, and now he had achieved it.</p> + +<p>The annoying part of the thing was +that he had nobody to talk to about it. Until +the news was official he could not mention it to the +common herd. It wouldn’t do. The only +possible confidant was Wyatt. And Wyatt was at +Bisley, shooting with the School Eight for the Ashburton. +For bull’s-eyes as well as cats came within +Wyatt’s range as a marksman. Cricket took +up too much of his time for him to be captain of the +Eight and the man chosen to shoot for the Spencer, +as he would otherwise almost certainly have been; +but even though short of practice he was well up in +the team.</p> + +<p>Until he returned, Mike could tell +nobody. And by the time he returned the notice +would probably be up in the Senior Block with the other +cricket notices.</p> + +<p>In this fermenting state Mike went into the house.</p> + +<p>The list of the team to play for Wain’s +<i>v</i>. Seymour’s on the following Monday +was on the board. As he passed it, a few words +scrawled in pencil at the bottom caught his eye.</p> + +<p>“All the above will turn out +for house-fielding at 6.30 to-morrow morning.—W. F.-S.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dash it,” said Mike, +“what rot! Why on earth can’t he leave +us alone!”</p> + +<p>For getting up an hour before his +customary time for rising was not among Mike’s +favourite pastimes. Still, orders were orders, +he felt. It would have to be done.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch19"> +CHAPTER XIX<br/><br/> +MIKE GOES TO SLEEP AGAIN</a></h3> + +<p>Mike was a stout supporter of the +view that sleep in large quantities is good for one. +He belonged to the school of thought which holds that +a man becomes plain and pasty if deprived of his full +spell in bed. He aimed at the peach-bloom complexion.</p> + +<p>To be routed out of bed a clear hour +before the proper time, even on a summer morning, +was not, therefore, a prospect that appealed to him.</p> + +<p>When he woke it seemed even less attractive +than it had done when he went to sleep. He had +banged his head on the pillow six times over-night, +and this silent alarm proved effective, as it always +does. Reaching out a hand for his watch, he found +that it was five minutes past six.</p> + +<p>This was to the good. He could +manage another quarter of an hour between the sheets. +It would only take him ten minutes to wash and get +into his flannels.</p> + +<p>He took his quarter of an hour, and +a little more. He woke from a sort of doze to +find that it was twenty-five past.</p> + +<p>Man’s inability to get out of +bed in the morning is a curious thing. One may +reason with oneself clearly and forcibly without the +slightest effect. One knows that delay means +inconvenience. Perhaps it may spoil one’s +whole day. And one also knows that a single resolute +heave will do the trick. But logic is of no use. +One simply lies there.</p> + +<p>Mike thought he would take another minute.</p> + +<p>And during that minute there floated +into his mind the question, Who <i>was</i> Firby-Smith? +That was the point. Who <i>was</i> he, after all?</p> + +<p>This started quite a new train of +thought. Previously Mike had firmly intended +to get up—some time. Now he began to +waver.</p> + +<p>The more he considered the Gazeka’s +insignificance and futility and his own magnificence, +the more outrageous did it seem that he should be +dragged out of bed to please Firby-Smith’s vapid +mind. Here was he, about to receive his first +eleven colours on this very day probably, being ordered +about, inconvenienced—in short, put upon +by a worm who had only just scraped into the third.</p> + +<p>Was this right, he asked himself. Was this proper?</p> + +<p>And the hands of the watch moved round to twenty to.</p> + +<p>What was the matter with his fielding? +<i>It</i> was all right. Make the rest of the +team fag about, yes. But not a chap who, dash +it all, had got his first <i>for</i> fielding!</p> + +<p>It was with almost a feeling of self-righteousness +that Mike turned over on his side and went to sleep +again.</p> + +<p>And outside in the cricket-field, +the massive mind of the Gazeka was filled with rage, +as it was gradually borne in upon him that this was +not a question of mere lateness—which, he +felt, would be bad enough, for when he said six-thirty +he meant six-thirty—but of actual desertion. +It was time, he said to himself, that the foot of Authority +was set firmly down, and the strong right hand of Justice +allowed to put in some energetic work. His comments +on the team’s fielding that morning were bitter +and sarcastic. His eyes gleamed behind their +pince-nez.</p> + +<p>The painful interview took place after +breakfast. The head of the house despatched his +fag in search of Mike, and waited. He paced up +and down the room like a hungry lion, adjusting his +pince-nez (a thing, by the way, which lions seldom +do) and behaving in other respects like a monarch +of the desert. One would have felt, looking at +him, that Mike, in coming to his den, was doing a deed +which would make the achievement of Daniel seem in +comparison like the tentative effort of some timid +novice.</p> + +<p>And certainly Mike was not without +qualms as he knocked at the door, and went in in response +to the hoarse roar from the other side of it.</p> + +<p>Firby-Smith straightened his tie, and glared.</p> + +<p>“Young Jackson,” he said, +“look here, I want to know what it all means, +and jolly quick. You weren’t at house-fielding +this morning. Didn’t you see the notice?”</p> + +<p>Mike admitted that he had seen the notice.</p> + +<p>“Then you frightful kid, what do you mean by +it? What?”</p> + +<p>Mike hesitated. Awfully embarrassing, +this. His real reason for not turning up to house-fielding +was that he considered himself above such things, +and Firby-Smith a toothy weed. Could he give this +excuse? He had not his Book of Etiquette by him +at the moment, but he rather fancied not. There +was no arguing against the fact that the head of the +house <i>was</i> a toothy weed; but he felt a firm +conviction that it would not be politic to say so.</p> + +<p>Happy thought: over-slept himself.</p> + +<p>He mentioned this.</p> + +<p>“Over-slept yourself! You +must jolly well not over-sleep yourself. What +do you mean by over-sleeping yourself?”</p> + +<p>Very trying this sort of thing.</p> + +<p>“What time did you wake up?”</p> + +<p>“Six,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>It was not according to his complicated, +yet intelligible code of morality to tell lies to +save himself. When others were concerned he could +suppress the true and suggest the false with a face +of brass.</p> + +<p>“Six!”</p> + +<p>“Five past.”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you get up then?”</p> + +<p>“I went to sleep again.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you went to sleep again, +did you? Well, just listen to me. I’ve +had my eye on you for some time, and I’ve seen +it coming on. You’ve got swelled head, +young man. That’s what you’ve got. +Frightful swelled head. You think the place belongs +to you.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” said Mike indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you do,” said the +Gazeka shrilly. “You think the whole frightful +place belongs to you. You go siding about as if +you’d bought it. Just because you’ve +got your second, you think you can do what you like; +turn up or not, as you please. It doesn’t +matter whether I’m only in the third and you’re +in the first. That’s got nothing to do with +it. The point is that you’re one of the +house team, and I’m captain of it, so you’ve +jolly well got to turn out for fielding with the others +when I think it necessary. See?”</p> + +<p>Mike said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Do—you—see, you frightful +kid?”</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus4"> +<img src="images/jmike4.jpg" alt="“DO—YOU—SEE, YOU FRIGHTFUL KID?”" /> +</a></p> + +<p>Mike remained stonily silent. +The rather large grain of truth in what Firby-Smith +had said had gone home, as the unpleasant truth about +ourselves is apt to do; and his feelings were hurt. +He was determined not to give in and say that he saw +even if the head of the house invoked all the majesty +of the prefects’ room to help him, as he had +nearly done once before. He set his teeth, and +stared at a photograph on the wall.</p> + +<p>Firby-Smith’s manner became +ominously calm. He produced a swagger-stick from +a corner.</p> + +<p>“Do you see?” he asked again.</p> + +<p>Mike’s jaw set more tightly.</p> + +<p>What one really wants here is a row of stars.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mike was still full of his injuries +when Wyatt came back. Wyatt was worn out, but +cheerful. The school had finished sixth for the +Ashburton, which was an improvement of eight places +on their last year’s form, and he himself had +scored thirty at the two hundred and twenty-seven +at the five hundred totals, which had put him in a +very good humour with the world.</p> + +<p>“Me ancient skill has not deserted +me,” he said, “That’s the cats. +The man who can wing a cat by moonlight can put a +bullet where he likes on a target. I didn’t +hit the bull every time, but that was to give the +other fellows a chance. My fatal modesty has always +been a hindrance to me in life, and I suppose it always +will be. Well, well! And what of the old +homestead? Anything happened since I went away? +Me old father, is he well? Has the lost will +been discovered, or is there a mortgage on the family +estates? By Jove, I could do with a stoup of +Malvoisie. I wonder if the moke’s gone to +bed yet. I’ll go down and look. A +jug of water drawn from the well in the old courtyard +where my ancestors have played as children for centuries +back would just about save my life.”</p> + +<p>He left the dormitory, and Mike began +to brood over his wrongs once more.</p> + +<p>Wyatt came back, brandishing a jug +of water and a glass.</p> + +<p>“Oh, for a beaker full of the +warm south, full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene! +Have you ever tasted Hippocrene, young Jackson? +Rather like ginger-beer, with a dash of raspberry-vinegar. +Very heady. Failing that, water will do. +A-ah!”</p> + +<p>He put down the glass, and surveyed +Mike, who had maintained a moody silence throughout +this speech.</p> + +<p>“What’s your trouble?” +he asked. “For pains in the back try Ju-jar. +If it’s a broken heart, Zam-buk’s what +you want. Who’s been quarrelling with you?”</p> + +<p>“It’s only that ass Firby-Smith.”</p> + +<p>“Again! I never saw such +chaps as you two. Always at it. What was +the trouble this time? Call him a grinning ape +again? Your passion for the truth’ll be +getting you into trouble one of these days.”</p> + +<p>“He said I stuck on side.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“I mean, did he buttonhole you +on your way to school, and say, ‘Jackson, a +word in your ear. You stick on side.’ +Or did he lead up to it in any way? Did he say, +‘Talking of side, you stick it on.’ +What had you been doing to him?”</p> + +<p>“It was the house-fielding.”</p> + +<p>“But you can’t stick on +side at house-fielding. I defy any one to. +It’s too early in the morning.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t turn up.”</p> + +<p>“What! Why?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“No, but, look here, really. Did you simply +bunk it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt leaned on the end of Mike’s +bed, and, having observed its occupant thoughtfully +for a moment, proceeded to speak wisdom for the good +of his soul.</p> + +<p> +“I say, I don’t want to jaw—I’m one of those quiet chaps with strong, silent +natures; you may have noticed it—but I must put in a well-chosen word at this +juncture. Don’t pretend to be dropping off to sleep. Sit up and listen to what +your kind old uncle’s got to say to you about manners and deportment. +Otherwise, blood as you are at cricket, you’ll have a rotten time here. There +are some things you simply can’t do; and one of them is bunking a thing when +you’re put down for it. It doesn’t matter who it is puts you down. If he’s +captain, you’ve got to obey him. That’s discipline, that ’ere is. The speaker +then paused, and took a sip of water from the carafe which stood at his elbow. +Cheers from the audience, and a voice ‘Hear! Hear!’” +</p> + +<p>Mike rolled over in bed and glared +up at the orator. Most of his face was covered +by the water-jug, but his eyes stared fixedly from +above it. He winked in a friendly way, and, putting +down the jug, drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>“Nothing like this old ’87 +water,” he said. “Such body.”</p> + +<p>“I like you jawing about discipline,” +said Mike morosely.</p> + +<p>“And why, my gentle che-ild, +should I not talk about discipline?”</p> + +<p>“Considering you break out of +the house nearly every night.”</p> + +<p>“In passing, rather rum when +you think that a burglar would get it hot for breaking +in, while I get dropped on if I break out. Why +should there be one law for the burglar and one for +me? But you were saying—just so. +I thank you. About my breaking out. When +you’re a white-haired old man like me, young +Jackson, you’ll see that there are two sorts +of discipline at school. One you can break if +you feel like taking the risks; the other you mustn’t +ever break. I don’t know why, but it isn’t +done. Until you learn that, you can never hope +to become the Perfect Wrykynian like,” he concluded +modestly, “me.”</p> + +<p>Mike made no reply. He would +have perished rather than admit it, but Wyatt’s +words had sunk in. That moment marked a distinct +epoch in his career. His feelings were curiously +mixed. He was still furious with Firby-Smith, +yet at the same time he could not help acknowledging +to himself that the latter had had the right on his +side. He saw and approved of Wyatt’s point +of view, which was the more impressive to him from +his knowledge of his friend’s contempt for, or, +rather, cheerful disregard of, most forms of law and +order. If Wyatt, reckless though he was as regarded +written school rules, held so rigid a respect for +those that were unwritten, these last must be things +which could not be treated lightly. That night, +for the first time in his life, Mike went to sleep +with a clear idea of what the public school spirit, +of which so much is talked and written, really meant.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch20"> +CHAPTER XX<br/><br/> +THE TEAM IS FILLED UP</a></h3> + +<p>When Burgess, at the end of the conversation +in the pavilion with Mr. Spence which Bob Jackson +had overheard, accompanied the cricket-master across +the field to the boarding-houses, he had distinctly +made up his mind to give Mike his first eleven colours +next day. There was only one more match to be +played before the school fixture-list was finished. +That was the match with Ripton. Both at cricket +and football Ripton was the school that mattered most. +Wrykyn did not always win its other school matches; +but it generally did. The public schools of England +divide themselves naturally into little groups, as +far as games are concerned. Harrow, Eton, and +Winchester are one group: Westminster and Charterhouse +another: Bedford, Tonbridge, Dulwich, Haileybury, +and St. Paul’s are a third. In this way, +Wrykyn, Ripton, Geddington, and Wilborough formed +a group. There was no actual championship competition, +but each played each, and by the end of the season +it was easy to see which was entitled to first place. +This nearly always lay between Ripton and Wrykyn. +Sometimes an exceptional Geddington team would sweep +the board, or Wrykyn, having beaten Ripton, would +go down before Wilborough. But this did not happen +often. Usually Wilborough and Geddington were +left to scramble for the wooden spoon.</p> + +<p>Secretaries of cricket at Ripton and +Wrykyn always liked to arrange the date of the match +towards the end of the term, so that they might take +the field with representative and not experimental +teams. By July the weeding-out process had generally +finished. Besides which the members of the teams +had had time to get into form.</p> + +<p>At Wrykyn it was the custom to fill +up the team, if possible, before the Ripton match. +A player is likely to show better form if he has got +his colours than if his fate depends on what he does +in that particular match.</p> + +<p>Burgess, accordingly, had resolved +to fill up the first eleven just a week before Ripton +visited Wrykyn. There were two vacancies. +One gave him no trouble. Neville-Smith was not +a great bowler, but he was steady, and he had done +well in the earlier matches. He had fairly earned +his place. But the choice between Bob and Mike +had kept him awake into the small hours two nights +in succession. Finally he had consulted Mr. Spence, +and Mr. Spence had voted for Mike.</p> + +<p>Burgess was glad the thing was settled. +The temptation to allow sentiment to interfere with +business might have become too strong if he had waited +much longer. He knew that it would be a wrench +definitely excluding Bob from the team, and he hated +to have to do it. The more he thought of it, +the sorrier he was for him. If he could have +pleased himself, he would have kept Bob In. But, +as the poet has it, “Pleasure is pleasure, and +biz is biz, and kep’ in a sepyrit jug.” +The first duty of a captain is to have no friends.</p> + +<p>From small causes great events do +spring. If Burgess had not picked up a particularly +interesting novel after breakfast on the morning of +Mike’s interview with Firby-Smith in the study, +the list would have gone up on the notice-board after +prayers. As it was, engrossed in his book, he +let the moments go by till the sound on the bell startled +him into movement. And then there was only time +to gather up his cap, and sprint. The paper on +which he had intended to write the list and the pen +he had laid out to write it with lay untouched on the +table.</p> + +<p>And, as it was not his habit to put +up notices except during the morning, he postponed +the thing. He could write it after tea. After +all, there was a week before the match.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When school was over, he went across +to the Infirmary to inquire about Marsh. The +report was more than favourable. Marsh had better +not see any one just yet, in case of accident, but +he was certain to be out in time to play against Ripton.</p> + +<p>“Doctor Oakes thinks he will +be back in school on Tuesday.”</p> + +<p>“Banzai!” said Burgess, +feeling that life was good. To take the field +against Ripton without Marsh would have been to court +disaster. Marsh’s fielding alone was worth +the money. With him at short slip, Burgess felt +safe when he bowled.</p> + +<p>The uncomfortable burden of the knowledge +that he was about temporarily to sour Bob Jackson’s +life ceased for the moment to trouble him. He +crooned extracts from musical comedy as he walked +towards the nets.</p> + +<p>Recollection of Bob’s hard case +was brought to him by the sight of that about-to-be-soured +sportsman tearing across the ground in the middle +distance in an effort to get to a high catch which +Trevor had hit up to him. It was a difficult +catch, and Burgess waited to see if he would bring +it off.</p> + +<p>Bob got to it with one hand, and held +it. His impetus carried him on almost to where +Burgess was standing.</p> + +<p>“Well held,” said Burgess.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” said Bob awkwardly. +A gruesome thought had flashed across his mind that +the captain might think that this gallery-work was +an organised advertisement.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t get both hands to it,” +he explained.</p> + +<p>“You’re hot stuff in the deep.”</p> + +<p>“Easy when you’re only practising.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve just been to the Infirmary.”</p> + +<p>“Oh. How’s Marsh?”</p> + +<p>“They wouldn’t let me +see him, but it’s all right. He’ll +be able to play on Saturday.”</p> + +<p>“Good,” said Bob, hoping +he had said it as if he meant it. It was decidedly +a blow. He was glad for the sake of the school, +of course, but one has one’s personal ambitions. +To the fact that Mike and not himself was the eleventh +cap he had become partially resigned: but he +had wanted rather badly to play against Ripton.</p> + +<p>Burgess passed on, his mind full of +Bob once more. What hard luck it was! There +was he, dashing about in the sun to improve his fielding, +and all the time the team was filled up. He felt +as if he were playing some low trick on a pal.</p> + +<p>Then the Jekyll and Hyde business +completed itself. He suppressed his personal +feelings, and became the cricket captain again.</p> + +<p>It was the cricket captain who, towards +the end of the evening, came upon Firby-Smith and +Mike parting at the conclusion of a conversation. +That it had not been a friendly conversation would +have been evident to the most casual observer from +the manner in which Mike stumped off, swinging his +cricket-bag as if it were a weapon of offence. +There are many kinds of walk. Mike’s was +the walk of the Overwrought Soul.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” inquired Burgess.</p> + +<p>“Young Jackson, do you mean? +Oh, nothing. I was only telling him that there +was going to be house-fielding to-morrow before breakfast.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t he like the idea?”</p> + +<p>“He’s jolly well got to +like it,” said the Gazeka, as who should say, +“This way for Iron Wills.” “The +frightful kid cut it this morning. There’ll +be worse trouble if he does it again.”</p> + +<p>There was, it may be mentioned, not +an ounce of malice in the head of Wain’s house. +That by telling the captain of cricket that Mike had +shirked fielding-practice he might injure the latter’s +prospects of a first eleven cap simply did not occur +to him. That Burgess would feel, on being told +of Mike’s slackness, much as a bishop might feel +if he heard that a favourite curate had become a Mahometan +or a Mumbo-Jumboist, did not enter his mind. +All he considered was that the story of his dealings +with Mike showed him, Firby-Smith, in the favourable +and dashing character of the fellow-who-will-stand-no-nonsense, +a sort of Captain Kettle on dry land, in fact; and +so he proceeded to tell it in detail.</p> + +<p>Burgess parted with him with the firm +conviction that Mike was a young slacker. Keenness +in fielding was a fetish with him; and to cut practice +struck him as a crime.</p> + +<p>He felt that he had been deceived in Mike.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When, therefore, one takes into consideration +his private bias in favour of Bob, and adds to it +the reaction caused by this sudden unmasking of Mike, +it is not surprising that the list Burgess made out +that night before he went to bed differed in an important +respect from the one he had intended to write before +school.</p> + +<p>Mike happened to be near the notice-board +when he pinned it up. It was only the pleasure +of seeing his name down in black-and-white that made +him trouble to look at the list. Bob’s news +of the day before yesterday had made it clear how +that list would run.</p> + +<p>The crowd that collected the moment +Burgess had walked off carried him right up to the +board.</p> + +<p>He looked at the paper.</p> + +<p>“Hard luck!” said somebody.</p> + +<p>Mike scarcely heard him.</p> + +<p>He felt physically sick with the shock +of the disappointment. For the initial before +the name Jackson was R.</p> + +<p>There was no possibility of mistake. +Since writing was invented, there had never been an +R. that looked less like an M. than the one on that +list.</p> + +<p>Bob had beaten him on the tape.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch21"> +CHAPTER XXI<br/><br/> +MARJORY THE FRANK</a></h3> + +<p>At the door of the senior block Burgess, +going out, met Bob coming in, hurrying, as he was +rather late.</p> + +<p>“Congratulate you, Bob,” he said; and +passed on.</p> + +<p>Bob stared after him. As he stared, Trevor came +out of the block.</p> + +<p>“Congratulate you, Bob.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter now?”</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you seen?”</p> + +<p>“Seen what?”</p> + +<p>“Why the list. You’ve got your first.”</p> + +<p>“My—what? you’re rotting.”</p> + +<p>“No, I’m not. Go and look.”</p> + +<p>The thing seemed incredible. Had he dreamed that +conversation between Spence and Burgess on the pavilion steps? Had +he mixed up the names? He was certain that he had heard Spence give his verdict +for Mike, and Burgess agree with him.</p> + +<p>Just then, Mike, feeling very ill, +came down the steps. He caught sight of Bob and +was passing with a feeble grin, when something told +him that this was one of those occasions on which one +has to show a Red Indian fortitude and stifle one’s +private feelings.</p> + +<p>“Congratulate you, Bob,” he said awkwardly.</p> + +<p>“Thanks awfully,” said +Bob, with equal awkwardness. Trevor moved on, +delicately. This was no place for him. Bob’s +face was looking like a stuffed frog’s, which +was Bob’s way of trying to appear unconcerned +and at his ease, while Mike seemed as if at any moment +he might burst into tears. Spectators are not +wanted at these awkward interviews.</p> + +<p>There was a short silence.</p> + +<p>“Jolly glad you’ve got it,” said +Mike.</p> + +<p>“I believe there’s a mistake. I swear +I heard Burgess say to Spence——”</p> + +<p>“He changed his mind probably. No reason +why he shouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s jolly rummy.”</p> + +<p>Bob endeavoured to find consolation.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow, you’ll have three +years in the first. You’re a cert. for next +year.”</p> + +<p>“Hope so,” said Mike, +with such manifest lack of enthusiasm that Bob abandoned +this line of argument. When one has missed one’s +colours, next year seems a very, very long way off.</p> + +<p>They moved slowly through the cloisters, +neither speaking, and up the stairs that led to the +Great Hall. Each was gratefully conscious of +the fact that prayers would be beginning in another +minute, putting an end to an uncomfortable situation.</p> + +<p>“Heard from home lately?” inquired Mike.</p> + +<p>Bob snatched gladly at the subject.</p> + +<p>“Got a letter from mother this +morning. I showed you the last one, didn’t +I? I’ve only just had time to skim through +this one, as the post was late, and I only got it +just as I was going to dash across to school. +Not much in it. Here it is, if you want to read +it.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks. It’ll be something to do +during Math.”</p> + +<p>“Marjory wrote, too, for the +first time in her life. Haven’t had time +to look at it yet.”</p> + +<p>“After you. Sure it isn’t meant for +me? She owes me a letter.”</p> + +<p>“No, it’s for me all right. I’ll +give it you in the interval.”</p> + +<p>The arrival of the headmaster put an end to the conversation.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>By a quarter to eleven Mike had begun +to grow reconciled to his fate. The disappointment +was still there, but it was lessened. These things +are like kicks on the shin. A brief spell of agony, +and then a dull pain of which we are not always conscious +unless our attention is directed to it, and which +in time disappears altogether. When the bell +rang for the interval that morning, Mike was, as it +were, sitting up and taking nourishment.</p> + +<p>He was doing this in a literal as well as in a figurative +sense when Bob entered the school shop.</p> + +<p>Bob appeared curiously agitated. +He looked round, and, seeing Mike, pushed his way +towards him through the crowd. Most of those present +congratulated him as he passed; and Mike noticed, with +some surprise, that, in place of the blushful grin +which custom demands from the man who is being congratulated +on receipt of colours, there appeared on his face +a worried, even an irritated look. He seemed to +have something on his mind.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” said Mike amiably. “Got +that letter?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I’ll show it you outside.”</p> + +<p>“Why not here?”</p> + +<p>“Come on.”</p> + +<p>Mike resented the tone, but followed. +Evidently something had happened to upset Bob seriously. +As they went out on the gravel, somebody congratulated +Bob again, and again Bob hardly seemed to appreciate +it.</p> + +<p>Bob led the way across the gravel +and on to the first terrace. When they had left +the crowd behind, he stopped.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” asked Mike.</p> + +<p>“I want you to read——”</p> + +<p>“Jackson!”</p> + +<p>They both turned. The headmaster +was standing on the edge of the gravel.</p> + +<p>Bob pushed the letter into Mike’s hands.</p> + +<p>“Read that,” he said, +and went up to the headmaster. Mike heard the +words “English Essay,” and, seeing that +the conversation was apparently going to be one of +some length, capped the headmaster and walked off. +He was just going to read the letter when the bell +rang. He put the missive in his pocket, and went +to his form-room wondering what Marjory could have +found to say to Bob to touch him on the raw to such +an extent. She was a breezy correspondent, with +a style of her own, but usually she entertained rather +than upset people. No suspicion of the actual +contents of the letter crossed his mind.</p> + +<p>He read it during school, under the +desk; and ceased to wonder. Bob had had cause +to look worried. For the thousand and first time +in her career of crime Marjory had been and done it! +With a strong hand she had shaken the cat out of the +bag, and exhibited it plainly to all whom it might +concern.</p> + +<p>There was a curious absence of construction +about the letter. Most authors of sensational +matter nurse their bomb-shell, lead up to it, and +display it to the best advantage. Marjory dropped +hers into the body of the letter, and let it take +its chance with the other news-items.</p> + +<p>“DEAR BOB” (the letter +ran),—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“I hope you are quite well. I am quite well. Phyllis has a cold, Ella cheeked +Mademoiselle yesterday, and had to write out ‘Little Girls must be polite and +obedient’ a hundred times in French. She was jolly sick about it. I told her it +served her right. Joe made eighty-three against Lancashire. Reggie made a duck. +Have you got your first? If you have, it will be all through Mike. Uncle John +told Father that Mike pretended to hurt his wrist so that you could play +instead of him for the school, and Father said it was very sporting of Mike but +nobody must tell you because it wouldn’t be fair if you got your first for you +to know that you owed it to Mike and I wasn’t supposed to hear but I did +because I was in the room only they didn’t know I was (we were playing +hide-and-seek and I was hiding) so I’m writing to tell you, +</p> + +<p class="center">“From your affectionate sister</p> + +<p class="center">“Marjory.”</p> + +<p>There followed a P.S.</p> + +<p class="letter">“I’ll tell you what you ought +to do. I’ve been reading a jolly good book +called ‘The Boys of Dormitory Two,’ and +the hero’s an awfully nice boy named Lionel +Tremayne, and his friend Jack Langdale saves his +life when a beast of a boatman who’s really employed +by Lionel’s cousin who wants the money that +Lionel’s going to have when he grows up stuns +him and leaves him on the beach to drown. Well, +Lionel is going to play for the school against +Loamshire, and it’s <i>the</i> match of the +season, but he goes to the headmaster and says he wants +Jack to play instead of him. Why don’t +you do that?</p> + +<p>“M.</p> + +<p>“P.P.S.—This has +been a frightful fag to write.”</p> + +<p>For the life of him Mike could not +help giggling as he pictured what Bob’s expression +must have been when his brother read this document. +But the humorous side of the thing did not appeal to +him for long. What should he say to Bob? +What would Bob say to him? Dash it all, it made +him look such an awful <i>ass</i>! Anyhow, Bob +couldn’t do much. In fact he didn’t +see that he could do anything. The team was filled +up, and Burgess was not likely to alter it. Besides, +why should he alter it? Probably he would have +given Bob his colours anyhow. Still, it was beastly +awkward. Marjory meant well, but she had put her +foot right in it. Girls oughtn’t to meddle +with these things. No girl ought to be taught +to write till she came of age. And Uncle John +had behaved in many respects like the Complete Rotter. +If he was going to let out things like that, he might +at least have whispered them, or looked behind the +curtains to see that the place wasn’t chock-full +of female kids. Confound Uncle John!</p> + +<p>Throughout the dinner-hour Mike kept +out of Bob’s way. But in a small community +like a school it is impossible to avoid a man for ever. +They met at the nets.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Bob.</p> + +<p>“How do you mean?” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Did you read it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, is it all rot, or did +you—you know what I mean—sham +a crocked wrist?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mike, “I did.”</p> + +<p>Bob stared gloomily at his toes.</p> + +<p>“I mean,” he said at last, +apparently putting the finishing-touch to some train +of thought, “I know I ought to be grateful, and +all that. I suppose I am. I mean it was +jolly good of you—Dash it all,” he +broke off hotly, as if the putting his position into +words had suddenly showed him how inglorious it was, +“what did you want to do it <i>for</i>? +What was the idea? What right have you got to +go about playing Providence over me? Dash it +all, it’s like giving a fellow money without +consulting him.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t think you’d +ever know. You wouldn’t have if only that +ass Uncle John hadn’t let it out.”</p> + +<p>“How did he get to know? Why did you tell +him?”</p> + +<p>“He got it out of me. I +couldn’t choke him off. He came down when +you were away at Geddington, and would insist on having +a look at my arm, and naturally he spotted right away +there was nothing the matter with it. So it came +out; that’s how it was.”</p> + +<p>Bob scratched thoughtfully at the turf with a spike +of his boot.</p> + +<p>“Of course, it was awfully decent——”</p> + +<p>Then again the monstrous nature of the affair came +home to him.</p> + +<p>“But what did you do it <i>for</i>? +Why should you rot up your own chances to give me +a look in?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know.... You know, you +did <i>me</i> a jolly good turn.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember. When?”</p> + +<p>“That Firby-Smith business.”</p> + +<p>“What about it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you got me out of a jolly bad hole.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, rot! And do you mean to tell me it +was simply because of that——?”</p> + +<p>Mike appeared to him in a totally +new light. He stared at him as if he were some +strange creature hitherto unknown to the human race. +Mike shuffled uneasily beneath the scrutiny.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow, it’s all over +now,” Mike said, “so I don’t see +what’s the point of talking about it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m hanged if it is. +You don’t think I’m going to sit tight +and take my first as if nothing had happened?”</p> + +<p>“What can you do? The list’s +up. Are you going to the Old Man to ask him if +I can play, like Lionel Tremayne?”</p> + +<p>The hopelessness of the situation +came over Bob like a wave. He looked helplessly +at Mike.</p> + +<p>“Besides,” added Mike, +“I shall get in next year all right. Half +a second, I just want to speak to Wyatt about something.”</p> + +<p>He sidled off.</p> + +<p>“Well, anyhow,” said Bob to himself, “I +must see Burgess about it.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch22"> +CHAPTER XXII<br/><br/> +WYATT IS REMINDED OF AN ENGAGEMENT</a></h3> + +<p>There are situations in life which +are beyond one. The sensible man realises this, +and slides out of such situations, admitting himself +beaten. Others try to grapple with them, but it +never does any good. When affairs get into a +real tangle, it is best to sit still and let them +straighten themselves out. Or, if one does not +do that, simply to think no more about them. +This is Philosophy. The true philosopher is the +man who says “All right,” and goes to sleep +in his arm-chair. One’s attitude towards +Life’s Little Difficulties should be that of +the gentleman in the fable, who sat down on an acorn +one day, and happened to doze. The warmth of +his body caused the acorn to germinate, and it grew +so rapidly that, when he awoke, he found himself sitting +in the fork of an oak, sixty feet from the ground. +He thought he would go home, but, finding this impossible, +he altered his plans. “Well, well,” +he said, “if I cannot compel circumstances to +my will, I can at least adapt my will to circumstances. +I decide to remain here.” Which he did, +and had a not unpleasant time. The oak lacked +some of the comforts of home, but the air was splendid +and the view excellent.</p> + +<p>To-day’s Great Thought for Young +Readers. Imitate this man.</p> + +<p>Bob should have done so, but he had +not the necessary amount of philosophy. He still +clung to the idea that he and Burgess, in council, +might find some way of making things right for everybody. +Though, at the moment, he did not see how eleven caps +were to be divided amongst twelve candidates in such +a way that each should have one.</p> + +<p>And Burgess, consulted on the point, +confessed to the same inability to solve the problem. +It took Bob at least a quarter of an hour to get the +facts of the case into the captain’s head, but +at last Burgess grasped the idea of the thing. +At which period he remarked that it was a rum business.</p> + +<p>“Very rum,” Bob agreed. +“Still, what you say doesn’t help us out +much, seeing that the point is, what’s to be +done?”</p> + +<p>“Why do anything?”</p> + +<p>Burgess was a philosopher, and took +the line of least resistance, like the man in the +oak-tree.</p> + +<p>“But I must do something,” +said Bob. “Can’t you see how rotten +it is for me?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why. +It’s not your fault. Very sporting of your +brother and all that, of course, though I’m +blowed if I’d have done it myself; but why should +you do anything? You’re all right. +Your brother stood out of the team to let you in it, +and here you <i>are</i>, in it. What’s +he got to grumble about?”</p> + +<p>“He’s not grumbling. It’s me.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with you? Don’t +you want your first?”</p> + +<p>“Not like this. Can’t you see what +a rotten position it is for me?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you worry. +You simply keep on saying you’re all right. +Besides, what do you want me to do? Alter the +list?”</p> + +<p>But for the thought of those unspeakable +outsiders, Lionel Tremayne and his headmaster, Bob +might have answered this question in the affirmative; +but he had the public-school boy’s terror of +seeming to pose or do anything theatrical. He +would have done a good deal to put matters right, +but he could <i>not</i> do the self-sacrificing young +hero business. It would not be in the picture. +These things, if they are to be done at school, have +to be carried through stealthily, after Mike’s +fashion.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you can’t very +well, now it’s up. Tell you what, though, +I don’t see why I shouldn’t stand out +of the team for the Ripton match. I could easily +fake up some excuse.”</p> + +<p>“I do. I don’t know +if it’s occurred to you, but the idea is rather +to win the Ripton match, if possible. So that +I’m a lot keen on putting the best team into +the field. Sorry if it upsets your arrangements +in any way.”</p> + +<p>“You know perfectly well Mike’s +every bit as good as me.”</p> + +<p>“He isn’t so keen.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Fielding. He’s a young slacker.”</p> + +<p>When Burgess had once labelled a man +as that, he did not readily let the idea out of his +mind.</p> + +<p>“Slacker? What rot! He’s as +keen as anything.”</p> + +<p>“Anyhow, his keenness isn’t +enough to make him turn out for house-fielding. +If you really want to know, that’s why you’ve +got your first instead of him. You sweated away, +and improved your fielding twenty per cent.; and I +happened to be talking to Firby-Smith and found that +young Mike had been shirking his, so out he went. +A bad field’s bad enough, but a slack field wants +skinning.”</p> + +<p>“Smith oughtn’t to have told you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he did tell me. +So you see how it is. There won’t be any +changes from the team I’ve put up on the board.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, all right,” said +Bob. “I was afraid you mightn’t be +able to do anything. So long.”</p> + +<p>“Mind the step,” said Burgess.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>At about the time when this conversation +was in progress, Wyatt, crossing the cricket-field +towards the school shop in search of something fizzy +that might correct a burning thirst acquired at the +nets, espied on the horizon a suit of cricket flannels +surmounted by a huge, expansive grin. As the +distance between them lessened, he discovered that +inside the flannels was Neville-Smith’s body +and behind the grin the rest of Neville-Smith’s +face. Their visit to the nets not having coincided +in point of time, as the Greek exercise books say, +Wyatt had not seen his friend since the list of the +team had been posted on the board, so he proceeded +to congratulate him on his colours.</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Neville-Smith, +with a brilliant display of front teeth.</p> + +<p>“Feeling good?”</p> + +<p>“Not the word for it. I feel like—I +don’t know what.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what you +look like, if that’s any good to you. That +slight smile of yours will meet behind, if you don’t +look out, and then the top of your head’ll come +off.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care. I’ve +got my first, whatever happens. Little Willie’s +going to buy a nice new cap and a pretty striped jacket +all for his own self! I say, thanks for reminding +me. Not that you did, but supposing you had. +At any rate, I remember what it was I wanted to say +to you. You know what I was saying to you about +the bust I meant to have at home in honour of my getting +my first, if I did, which I have—well, +anyhow it’s to-night. You can roll up, can’t +you?”</p> + +<p>“Delighted. Anything for +a free feed in these hard times. What time did +you say it was?”</p> + +<p>“Eleven. Make it a bit earlier, if you +like.”</p> + +<p>“No, eleven’ll do me all right.”</p> + +<p>“How are you going to get out?”</p> + +<p>“‘Stone walls do not a +prison make, nor iron bars a cage.’ That’s +what the man said who wrote the libretto for the last +set of Latin Verses we had to do. I shall manage +it.”</p> + +<p>“They ought to allow you a latch-key.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ve often thought +of asking my pater for one. Still, I get on very +well. Who are coming besides me?”</p> + +<p>“No boarders. They all funked it.”</p> + +<p>“The race is degenerating.”</p> + +<p>“Said it wasn’t good enough.”</p> + +<p>“The school is going to the dogs. Who did +you ask?”</p> + +<p>“Clowes was one. Said he +didn’t want to miss his beauty-sleep. And +Henfrey backed out because he thought the risk of being +sacked wasn’t good enough.”</p> + +<p>“That’s an aspect of the +thing that might occur to some people. I don’t +blame him—I might feel like that myself +if I’d got another couple of years at school.”</p> + +<p>“But one or two day-boys are +coming. Clephane is, for one. And Beverley. +We shall have rather a rag. I’m going to +get the things now.”</p> + +<p>“When I get to your place—I +don’t believe I know the way, now I come to +think of it—what do I do? Ring the +bell and send in my card? or smash the nearest window +and climb in?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t make too much row, +for goodness sake. All the servants’ll have +gone to bed. You’ll see the window of my +room. It’s just above the porch. It’ll +be the only one lighted up. Heave a pebble at +it, and I’ll come down.”</p> + +<p>“So will the glass—with +a run, I expect. Still, I’ll try to do as +little damage as possible. After all, I needn’t +throw a brick.”</p> + +<p>“You <i>will</i> turn up, won’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing shall stop me.”</p> + +<p>“Good man.”</p> + +<p>As Wyatt was turning away, a sudden +compunction seized upon Neville-Smith. He called +him back.</p> + +<p>“I say, you don’t think +it’s too risky, do you? I mean, you always +are breaking out at night, aren’t you? +I don’t want to get you into a row.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right,” +said Wyatt. “Don’t you worry about +me. I should have gone out anyhow to-night.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch23"> +CHAPTER XXIII<br/><br/> +A SURPRISE FOR MR. APPLEBY</a></h3> + +<p>“You may not know it,” +said Wyatt to Mike in the dormitory that night, “but +this is the maddest, merriest day of all the glad New +Year.”</p> + +<p>Mike could not help thinking that +for himself it was the very reverse, but he did not +state his view of the case.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Neville-Smith’s giving +a meal at his place in honour of his getting his first. +I understand the preparations are on a scale of the +utmost magnificence. No expense has been spared. +Ginger-beer will flow like water. The oldest +cask of lemonade has been broached; and a sardine is +roasting whole in the market-place.”</p> + +<p>“Are you going?”</p> + +<p>“If I can tear myself away from +your delightful society. The kick-off is fixed +for eleven sharp. I am to stand underneath his +window and heave bricks till something happens. +I don’t know if he keeps a dog. If so, +I shall probably get bitten to the bone.”</p> + +<p>“When are you going to start?”</p> + +<p>“About five minutes after Wain +has been round the dormitories to see that all’s +well. That ought to be somewhere about half-past +ten.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t go getting caught.”</p> + +<p>“I shall do my little best not +to be. Rather tricky work, though, getting back. +I’ve got to climb two garden walls, and I shall +probably be so full of Malvoisie that you’ll +be able to hear it swishing about inside me. +No catch steeple-chasing if you’re like that. +They’ve no thought for people’s convenience +here. Now at Bradford they’ve got studies +on the ground floor, the windows looking out over the +boundless prairie. No climbing or steeple-chasing +needed at all. All you have to do is to open +the window and step out. Still, we must make +the best of things. Push us over a pinch of that +tooth-powder of yours. I’ve used all mine.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt very seldom penetrated further +than his own garden on the occasions when he roamed +abroad at night. For cat-shooting the Wain spinneys +were unsurpassed. There was one particular dustbin +where one might be certain of flushing a covey any +night; and the wall by the potting-shed was a feline +club-house.</p> + +<p>But when he did wish to get out into +the open country he had a special route which he always +took. He climbed down from the wall that ran +beneath the dormitory window into the garden belonging +to Mr. Appleby, the master who had the house next +to Mr. Wain’s. Crossing this, he climbed +another wall, and dropped from it into a small lane +which ended in the main road leading to Wrykyn town.</p> + +<p>This was the route which he took to-night. +It was a glorious July night, and the scent of the +flowers came to him with a curious distinctness as +he let himself down from the dormitory window. +At any other time he might have made a lengthy halt, +and enjoyed the scents and small summer noises, but +now he felt that it would be better not to delay. +There was a full moon, and where he stood he could +be seen distinctly from the windows of both houses. +They were all dark, it is true, but on these occasions +it was best to take no risks.</p> + +<p>He dropped cautiously into Appleby’s +garden, ran lightly across it, and was in the lane +within a minute.</p> + +<p>There he paused, dusted his trousers, +which had suffered on the two walls, and strolled +meditatively in the direction of the town. Half-past +ten had just chimed from the school clock. He +was in plenty of time.</p> + +<p>“What a night!” he said +to himself, sniffing as he walked.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Now it happened that he was not alone +in admiring the beauty of that particular night. +At ten-fifteen it had struck Mr. Appleby, looking +out of his study into the moonlit school grounds, that +a pipe in the open would make an excellent break in +his night’s work. He had acquired a slight +headache as the result of correcting a batch of examination +papers, and he thought that an interval of an hour +in the open air before approaching the half-dozen +or so papers which still remained to be looked at +might do him good. The window of his study was +open, but the room had got hot and stuffy. Nothing +like a little fresh air for putting him right.</p> + +<p>For a few moments he debated the rival +claims of a stroll in the cricket-field and a seat +in the garden. Then he decided on the latter. +The little gate in the railings opposite his house +might not be open, and it was a long way round to +the main entrance. So he took a deck-chair which +leaned against the wall, and let himself out of the +back door.</p> + +<p>He took up his position in the shadow +of a fir-tree with his back to the house. From +here he could see the long garden. He was fond +of his garden, and spent what few moments he could +spare from work and games pottering about it. +He had his views as to what the ideal garden should +be, and he hoped in time to tinker his own three acres +up to the desired standard. At present there +remained much to be done. Why not, for instance, +take away those laurels at the end of the lawn, and +have a flower-bed there instead? Laurels lasted +all the year round, true, whereas flowers died and +left an empty brown bed in the winter, but then laurels +were nothing much to look at at any time, and a garden +always had a beastly appearance in winter, whatever +you did to it. Much better have flowers, and +get a decent show for one’s money in summer +at any rate.</p> + +<p>The problem of the bed at the end +of the lawn occupied his complete attention for more +than a quarter of an hour, at the end of which period +he discovered that his pipe had gone out.</p> + +<p>He was just feeling for his matches +to relight it when Wyatt dropped with a slight thud +into his favourite herbaceous border.</p> + +<p>The surprise, and the agony of feeling +that large boots were trampling among his treasures +kept him transfixed for just the length of time necessary +for Wyatt to cross the garden and climb the opposite +wall. As he dropped into the lane, Mr. Appleby +recovered himself sufficiently to emit a sort of strangled +croak, but the sound was too slight to reach Wyatt. +That reveller was walking down the Wrykyn road before +Mr. Appleby had left his chair.</p> + +<p>It is an interesting point that it +was the gardener rather than the schoolmaster in Mr. +Appleby that first awoke to action. It was not +the idea of a boy breaking out of his house at night +that occurred to him first as particularly heinous; +it was the fact that the boy had broken out <i>via</i> +his herbaceous border. In four strides he was +on the scene of the outrage, examining, on hands and +knees, with the aid of the moonlight, the extent of +the damage done.</p> + +<p>As far as he could see, it was not +serious. By a happy accident Wyatt’s boots +had gone home to right and left of precious plants +but not on them. With a sigh of relief Mr. Appleby +smoothed over the cavities, and rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>At this point it began to strike him +that the episode affected him as a schoolmaster also.</p> + +<p>In that startled moment when Wyatt +had suddenly crossed his line of vision, he had recognised +him. The moon had shone full on his face as he +left the flowerbed. There was no doubt in his +mind as to the identity of the intruder.</p> + +<p>He paused, wondering how he should +act. It was not an easy question. There +was nothing of the spy about Mr. Appleby. He went +his way openly, liked and respected by boys and masters. +He always played the game. The difficulty here +was to say exactly what the game was. Sentiment, +of course, bade him forget the episode, treat it as +if it had never happened. That was the simple +way out of the difficulty. There was nothing +unsporting about Mr. Appleby. He knew that there +were times when a master might, without blame, close +his eyes or look the other way. If he had met +Wyatt out of bounds in the day-time, and it had been +possible to convey the impression that he had not seen +him, he would have done so. To be out of bounds +is not a particularly deadly sin. A master must +check it if it occurs too frequently, but he may use +his discretion.</p> + +<p>Breaking out at night, however, was +a different thing altogether. It was on another +plane. There are times when a master must waive +sentiment, and remember that he is in a position of +trust, and owes a duty directly to his headmaster, +and indirectly, through the headmaster, to the parents. +He receives a salary for doing this duty, and, if +he feels that sentiment is too strong for him, he should +resign in favour of some one of tougher fibre.</p> + +<p>This was the conclusion to which Mr. +Appleby came over his relighted pipe. He could +not let the matter rest where it was.</p> + +<p>In ordinary circumstances it would +have been his duty to report the affair to the headmaster +but in the present case he thought that a slightly +different course might be pursued. He would lay +the whole thing before Mr. Wain, and leave him to +deal with it as he thought best. It was one of +the few cases where it was possible for an assistant +master to fulfil his duty to a parent directly, instead +of through the agency of the headmaster.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Knocking out the ashes of his pipe +against a tree, he folded his deck-chair and went +into the house. The examination papers were spread +invitingly on the table, but they would have to wait. +He turned down his lamp, and walked round to Wain’s.</p> + +<p>There was a light in one of the ground-floor +windows. He tapped on the window, and the sound +of a chair being pushed back told him that he had +been heard. The blind shot up, and he had a view +of a room littered with books and papers, in the middle +of which stood Mr. Wain, like a sea-beast among rocks.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain recognised his visitor and +opened the window. Mr. Appleby could not help +feeling how like Wain it was to work on a warm summer’s +night in a hermetically sealed room. There was +always something queer and eccentric about Wyatt’s +step-father.</p> + +<p>“Can I have a word with you, Wain?” he +said.</p> + +<p>“Appleby! Is there anything +the matter? I was startled when you tapped. +Exceedingly so.”</p> + +<p>“Sorry,” said Mr. Appleby. +“Wouldn’t have disturbed you, only it’s +something important. I’ll climb in through +here, shall I? No need to unlock the door.” +And, greatly to Mr. Wain’s surprise and rather +to his disapproval, Mr. Appleby vaulted on to the +window-sill, and squeezed through into the room.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch24"> +CHAPTER XXIV<br/><br/> +CAUGHT</a></h3> + +<p>“Got some rather bad news for +you, I’m afraid,” began Mr. Appleby. +“I’ll smoke, if you don’t mind. +About Wyatt.”</p> + +<p>“James!”</p> + +<p>“I was sitting in my garden +a few minutes ago, having a pipe before finishing +the rest of my papers, and Wyatt dropped from the wall +on to my herbaceous border.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Appleby said this with a tinge +of bitterness. The thing still rankled.</p> + +<p>“James! In your garden! +Impossible. Why, it is not a quarter of an hour +since I left him in his dormitory.”</p> + +<p>“He’s not there now.”</p> + +<p>“You astound me, Appleby. I am astonished.”</p> + +<p>“So was I.”</p> + +<p>“How is such a thing possible? His window +is heavily barred.”</p> + +<p>“Bars can be removed.”</p> + +<p>“You must have been mistaken.”</p> + +<p>“Possibly,” said Mr. Appleby, +a little nettled. Gaping astonishment is always +apt to be irritating. “Let’s leave +it at that, then. Sorry to have disturbed you.”</p> + +<p>“No, sit down, Appleby. +Dear me, this is most extraordinary. Exceedingly +so. You are certain it was James?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly. It’s like daylight out +of doors.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain drummed on the table with his fingers.</p> + +<p>“What shall I do?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Appleby offered no suggestion.</p> + +<p>“I ought to report it to the +headmaster. That is certainly the course I should +pursue.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why. +It isn’t like an ordinary case. You’re +the parent. You can deal with the thing directly. +If you come to think of it, a headmaster’s only +a sort of middleman between boys and parents. +He plays substitute for the parent in his absence. +I don’t see why you should drag in the master +at all here.”</p> + +<p>“There is certainly something +in what you say,” said Mr. Wain on reflection.</p> + +<p>“A good deal. Tackle the +boy when he comes in, and have it out with him. +Remember that it must mean expulsion if you report +him to the headmaster. He would have no choice. +Everybody who has ever broken out of his house here +and been caught has been expelled. I should strongly +advise you to deal with the thing yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I will. Yes. You +are quite right, Appleby. That is a very good +idea of yours. You are not going?”</p> + +<p>“Must. Got a pile of examination +papers to look over. Good-night.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Appleby made his way out of the +window and through the gate into his own territory +in a pensive frame of mind. He was wondering what +would happen. He had taken the only possible course, +and, if only Wain kept his head and did not let the +matter get through officially to the headmaster, things +might not be so bad for Wyatt after all. He hoped +they would not. He liked Wyatt. It would +be a thousand pities, he felt, if he were to be expelled. +What would Wain do? What would <i>he</i> do in +a similar case? It was difficult to say. +Probably talk violently for as long as he could keep +it up, and then consider the episode closed. +He doubted whether Wain would have the common sense +to do this. Altogether it was very painful and +disturbing, and he was taking a rather gloomy view +of the assistant master’s lot as he sat down +to finish off the rest of his examination papers. +It was not all roses, the life of an assistant master +at a public school. He had continually to be +sinking his own individual sympathies in the claims +of his duty. Mr. Appleby was the last man who +would willingly have reported a boy for enjoying a +midnight ramble. But he was the last man to shirk +the duty of reporting him, merely because it was one +decidedly not to his taste.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain sat on for some minutes after +his companion had left, pondering over the news he +had heard. Even now he clung to the idea that +Appleby had made some extraordinary mistake. Gradually +he began to convince himself of this. He had +seen Wyatt actually in bed a quarter of an hour before—not +asleep, it was true, but apparently on the verge of +dropping off. And the bars across the window had +looked so solid.... Could Appleby have been dreaming? +Something of the kind might easily have happened. +He had been working hard, and the night was warm....</p> + +<p>Then it occurred to him that he could +easily prove or disprove the truth of his colleague’s +statement by going to the dormitory and seeing if +Wyatt were there or not. If he had gone out, he +would hardly have returned yet.</p> + +<p>He took a candle, and walked quietly upstairs.</p> + +<p>Arrived at his step-son’s dormitory, +he turned the door-handle softly and went in. +The light of the candle fell on both beds. Mike +was there, asleep. He grunted, and turned over +with his face to the wall as the light shone on his +eyes. But the other bed was empty. Appleby +had been right.</p> + +<p>If further proof had been needed, +one of the bars was missing from the window. +The moon shone in through the empty space.</p> + +<p>The house-master sat down quietly +on the vacant bed. He blew the candle out, and +waited there in the semi-darkness, thinking. For +years he and Wyatt had lived in a state of armed neutrality, +broken by various small encounters. Lately, by +silent but mutual agreement, they had kept out of +each other’s way as much as possible, and it +had become rare for the house-master to have to find +fault officially with his step-son. But there +had never been anything even remotely approaching +friendship between them. Mr. Wain was not a man +who inspired affection readily, least of all in those +many years younger than himself. Nor did he easily +grow fond of others. Wyatt he had regarded, from +the moment when the threads of their lives became +entangled, as a complete nuisance.</p> + +<p>It was not, therefore, a sorrowful, +so much as an exasperated, vigil that he kept in the +dormitory. There was nothing of the sorrowing +father about his frame of mind. He was the house-master +about to deal with a mutineer, and nothing else.</p> + +<p>This breaking-out, he reflected wrathfully, +was the last straw. Wyatt’s presence had +been a nervous inconvenience to him for years. +The time had come to put an end to it. It was +with a comfortable feeling of magnanimity that he +resolved not to report the breach of discipline to +the headmaster. Wyatt should not be expelled. +But he should leave, and that immediately. He +would write to the bank before he went to bed, asking +them to receive his step-son at once; and the letter +should go by the first post next day. The discipline +of the bank would be salutary and steadying. +And—this was a particularly grateful reflection—a +fortnight annually was the limit of the holiday allowed +by the management to its junior employees.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain had arrived at this conclusion, +and was beginning to feel a little cramped, when Mike +Jackson suddenly sat up.</p> + +<p>“Hullo!” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Go to sleep, Jackson, immediately,” snapped +the house-master.</p> + +<p>Mike had often heard and read of people’s +hearts leaping to their mouths, but he had never before +experienced that sensation of something hot and dry +springing in the throat, which is what really happens +to us on receipt of a bad shock. A sickening feeling +that the game was up beyond all hope of salvation +came to him. He lay down again without a word.</p> + +<p>What a frightful thing to happen! +How on earth had this come about? What in the +world had brought Wain to the dormitory at that hour? +Poor old Wyatt! If it had upset <i>him</i> (Mike) +to see the house-master in the room, what would be +the effect of such a sight on Wyatt, returning from +the revels at Neville-Smith’s!</p> + +<p>And what could he do? Nothing. +There was literally no way out. His mind went +back to the night when he had saved Wyatt by a brilliant +<i>coup</i>. The most brilliant of <i>coups</i> +could effect nothing now. Absolutely and entirely +the game was up.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Every minute that passed seemed like +an hour to Mike. Dead silence reigned in the +dormitory, broken every now and then by the creak of +the other bed, as the house-master shifted his position. +Twelve boomed across the field from the school clock. +Mike could not help thinking what a perfect night +it must be for him to be able to hear the strokes +so plainly. He strained his ears for any indication +of Wyatt’s approach, but could hear nothing. +Then a very faint scraping noise broke the stillness, +and presently the patch of moonlight on the floor +was darkened.</p> + +<p>At that moment Mr. Wain relit his candle.</p> + +<p>The unexpected glare took Wyatt momentarily +aback. Mike saw him start. Then he seemed +to recover himself. In a calm and leisurely manner +he climbed into the room.</p> + +<p>“James!” said Mr. Wain. +His voice sounded ominously hollow.</p> + +<p>Wyatt dusted his knees, and rubbed +his hands together. “Hullo, is that you, +father!” he said pleasantly.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch25"> +CHAPTER XXV<br/><br/> +MARCHING ORDERS</a></h3> + +<p>A silence followed. To Mike, +lying in bed, holding his breath, it seemed a long +silence. As a matter of fact it lasted for perhaps +ten seconds. Then Mr. Wain spoke.</p> + +<p>“You have been out, James?”</p> + +<p>It is curious how in the more dramatic +moments of life the inane remark is the first that +comes to us.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Wyatt.</p> + +<p>“I am astonished. Exceedingly astonished.”</p> + +<p>“I got a bit of a start myself,” said +Wyatt.</p> + +<p>“I shall talk to you in my study. Follow +me there.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>He left the room, and Wyatt suddenly began to chuckle.</p> + +<p>“I say, Wyatt!” said Mike, +completely thrown off his balance by the events of +the night.</p> + +<p>Wyatt continued to giggle helplessly. +He flung himself down on his bed, rolling with laughter. +Mike began to get alarmed.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right,” +said Wyatt at last, speaking with difficulty. +“But, I say, how long had he been sitting there?”</p> + +<p>“It seemed hours. About an hour, I suppose, +really.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the funniest thing +I’ve ever struck. Me sweating to get in +quietly, and all the time him camping out on my bed!”</p> + +<p>“But look here, what’ll happen?”</p> + +<p>Wyatt sat up.</p> + +<p>“That reminds me. Suppose I’d better +go down.”</p> + +<p>“What’ll he do, do you think?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, now, what!”</p> + +<p>“But, I say, it’s awful. What’ll +happen?”</p> + +<p>“That’s for him to decide. Speaking +at a venture, I should say——”</p> + +<p>“You don’t think——?”</p> + +<p>“The boot. The swift and +sudden boot. I shall be sorry to part with you, +but I’m afraid it’s a case of ‘Au +revoir, my little Hyacinth.’ We shall meet +at Philippi. This is my Moscow. To-morrow +I shall go out into the night with one long, choking +sob. Years hence a white-haired bank-clerk will +tap at your door when you’re a prosperous professional +cricketer with your photograph in <i>Wisden</i>. +That’ll be me. Well, I suppose I’d +better go down. We’d better all get to bed +<i>some</i> time to-night. Don’t go to +sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Not likely.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you all the +latest news when I come back. Where are me slippers? +Ha, ’tis well! Lead on, then, minions. +I follow.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In the study Mr. Wain was fumbling +restlessly with his papers when Wyatt appeared.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, James,” he said.</p> + +<p>Wyatt sat down. One of his slippers +fell off with a clatter. Mr. Wain jumped nervously.</p> + +<p>“Only my slipper,” explained Wyatt. +“It slipped.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain took up a pen, and began to tap the table.</p> + +<p>“Well, James?”</p> + +<p>Wyatt said nothing.</p> + +<p>“I should be glad to hear your +explanation of this disgraceful matter.”</p> + +<p>“The fact is——” said +Wyatt.</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t one, sir.”</p> + +<p>“What were you doing out of +your dormitory, out of the house, at that hour?”</p> + +<p>“I went for a walk, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And, may I inquire, are you +in the habit of violating the strictest school rules +by absenting yourself from the house during the night?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“This is an exceedingly serious matter.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt nodded agreement with this view.</p> + +<p>“Exceedingly.”</p> + +<p>The pen rose and fell with the rapidity +of the cylinder of a motor-car. Wyatt, watching +it, became suddenly aware that the thing was hypnotising +him. In a minute or two he would be asleep.</p> + +<p>“I wish you wouldn’t do +that, father. Tap like that, I mean. It’s +sending me to sleep.”</p> + +<p>“James!”</p> + +<p>“It’s like a woodpecker.”</p> + +<p>“Studied impertinence——”</p> + +<p>“I’m very sorry. Only it <i>was</i> +sending me off.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wain suspended tapping operations, +and resumed the thread of his discourse.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry, exceedingly, to +see this attitude in you, James. It is not fitting. +It is in keeping with your behaviour throughout. +Your conduct has been lax and reckless in the extreme. +It is possible that you imagine that the peculiar +circumstances of our relationship secure you from +the penalties to which the ordinary boy——”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I need hardly say,” continued +Mr. Wain, ignoring the interruption, “that I +shall treat you exactly as I should treat any other +member of my house whom I had detected in the same +misdemeanour.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Wyatt, approvingly.</p> + +<p>“I must ask you not to interrupt +me when I am speaking to you, James. I say that +your punishment will be no whit less severe than would +be that of any other boy. You have repeatedly +proved yourself lacking in ballast and a respect for +discipline in smaller ways, but this is a far more +serious matter. Exceedingly so. It is impossible +for me to overlook it, even were I disposed to do +so. You are aware of the penalty for such an +action as yours?”</p> + +<p>“The sack,” said Wyatt laconically.</p> + +<p>“It is expulsion. You must leave the school. +At once.”</p> + +<p>Wyatt nodded.</p> + +<p>“As you know, I have already +secured a nomination for you in the London and Oriental +Bank. I shall write to-morrow to the manager +asking him to receive you at once——”</p> + +<p>“After all, they only gain an extra fortnight +of me.”</p> + +<p>“You will leave directly I receive +his letter. I shall arrange with the headmaster +that you are withdrawn privately——”</p> + +<p>“<i>Not</i> the sack?”</p> + +<p>“Withdrawn privately. You +will not go to school to-morrow. Do you understand? +That is all. Have you anything to say?”</p> + +<p>Wyatt reflected.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t think——”</p> + +<p>His eye fell on a tray bearing a decanter and a syphon.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” he said. +“Can’t I mix you a whisky and soda, father, +before I go off to bed?”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“Well?” said Mike.</p> + +<p>Wyatt kicked off his slippers, and began to undress.</p> + +<p>“What happened?”</p> + +<p>“We chatted.”</p> + +<p>“Has he let you off?”</p> + +<p>“Like a gun. I shoot off +almost immediately. To-morrow I take a well-earned +rest away from school, and the day after I become the +gay young bank-clerk, all amongst the ink and ledgers.”</p> + +<p>Mike was miserably silent.</p> + +<p>“Buck up,” said Wyatt +cheerfully. “It would have happened anyhow +in another fortnight. So why worry?”</p> + +<p>Mike was still silent. The reflection +was doubtless philosophic, but it failed to comfort +him.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch26"> +CHAPTER XXVI<br/><br/> +THE AFTERMATH</a></h3> + +<p>Bad news spreads quickly. By +the quarter to eleven interval next day the facts +concerning Wyatt and Mr. Wain were public property. +Mike, as an actual spectator of the drama, was in +great request as an informant. As he told the +story to a group of sympathisers outside the school +shop, Burgess came up, his eyes rolling in a fine frenzy.</p> + +<p>“Anybody seen young—oh, +here you are. What’s all this about Jimmy +Wyatt? They’re saying he’s been sacked, +or some rot.”</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus5"> +<img src="images/jmike5.jpg" alt="“WHAT’S ALL THIS ABOUT JIMMY WYATT?”" /> +</a></p> + +<p>“So he has—at least, he’s got +to leave.”</p> + +<p>“What? When?”</p> + +<p>“He’s left already. He isn’t +coming to school again.”</p> + +<p>Burgess’s first thought, as +befitted a good cricket captain, was for his team.</p> + +<p>“And the Ripton match on Saturday!”</p> + +<p>Nobody seemed to have anything except silent sympathy +at his command.</p> + +<p>“Dash the man! Silly ass! +What did he want to do it for! Poor old Jimmy, +though!” he added after a pause. “What +rot for him!”</p> + +<p>“Beastly,” agreed Mike.</p> + +<p>“All the same,” continued +Burgess, with a return to the austere manner of the +captain of cricket, “he might have chucked playing +the goat till after the Ripton match. Look here, +young Jackson, you’ll turn out for fielding +with the first this afternoon. You’ll play +on Saturday.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Mike, +without enthusiasm. The Wyatt disaster was too +recent for him to feel much pleasure at playing against +Ripton <i>vice</i> his friend, withdrawn.</p> + +<p>Bob was the next to interview him. +They met in the cloisters.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Mike!” said Bob. +“I say, what’s all this about Wyatt?”</p> + +<p>“Wain caught him getting back +into the dorm. last night after Neville-Smith’s, +and he’s taken him away from the school.”</p> + +<p>“What’s he going to do? +Going into that bank straight away?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. You know, that’s +the part he bars most. He’d have been leaving +anyhow in a fortnight, you see; only it’s awful +rot for a chap like Wyatt to have to go and froust +in a bank for the rest of his life.”</p> + +<p>“He’ll find it rather +a change, I expect. I suppose you won’t +be seeing him before he goes?”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t think so. +Not unless he comes to the dorm. during the night. +He’s sleeping over in Wain’s part of the +house, but I shouldn’t be surprised if he nipped +out after Wain has gone to bed. Hope he does, +anyway.”</p> + +<p>“I should like to say good-bye. +But I don’t suppose it’ll be possible.”</p> + +<p>They separated in the direction of +their respective form-rooms. Mike felt bitter +and disappointed at the way the news had been received. +Wyatt was his best friend, his pal; and it offended +him that the school should take the tidings of his +departure as they had done. Most of them who +had come to him for information had expressed a sort +of sympathy with the absent hero of his story, but +the chief sensation seemed to be one of pleasurable +excitement at the fact that something big had happened +to break the monotony of school routine. They +treated the thing much as they would have treated +the announcement that a record score had been made +in first-class cricket. The school was not so +much regretful as comfortably thrilled. And Burgess +had actually cursed before sympathising. Mike +felt resentful towards Burgess. As a matter of +fact, the cricket captain wrote a letter to Wyatt during +preparation that night which would have satisfied even +Mike’s sense of what was fit. But Mike +had no opportunity of learning this.</p> + +<p>There was, however, one exception +to the general rule, one member of the school who +did not treat the episode as if it were merely an +interesting and impersonal item of sensational news. +Neville-Smith heard of what had happened towards the +end of the interval, and rushed off instantly in search +of Mike. He was too late to catch him before +he went to his form-room, so he waited for him at half-past +twelve, when the bell rang for the end of morning +school.</p> + +<p>“I say, Jackson, is this true about old Wyatt?”</p> + +<p>Mike nodded.</p> + +<p>“What happened?”</p> + +<p>Mike related the story for the sixteenth +time. It was a melancholy pleasure to have found +a listener who heard the tale in the right spirit. +There was no doubt about Neville-Smith’s interest +and sympathy. He was silent for a moment after +Mike had finished.</p> + +<p>“It was all my fault,” +he said at length. “If it hadn’t been +for me, this wouldn’t have happened. What +a fool I was to ask him to my place! I might +have known he would be caught.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“It was absolutely my fault.”</p> + +<p>Mike was not equal to the task of +soothing Neville-Smith’s wounded conscience. +He did not attempt it. They walked on without +further conversation till they reached Wain’s +gate, where Mike left him. Neville-Smith proceeded +on his way, plunged in meditation.</p> + +<p>The result of which meditation was +that Burgess got a second shock before the day was +out. Bob, going over to the nets rather late in +the afternoon, came upon the captain of cricket standing +apart from his fellow men with an expression on his +face that spoke of mental upheavals on a vast scale.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” asked Bob.</p> + +<p>“Nothing much,” said Burgess, +with a forced and grisly calm. “Only that, +as far as I can see, we shall play Ripton on Saturday +with a sort of second eleven. You don’t +happen to have got sacked or anything, by the way, +do you?”</p> + +<p>“What’s happened now?”</p> + +<p>“Neville-Smith. In extra +on Saturday. That’s all. Only our first- +and second-change bowlers out of the team for the +Ripton match in one day. I suppose by to-morrow +half the others’ll have gone, and we shall take +the field on Saturday with a scratch side of kids from +the Junior School.”</p> + +<p>“Neville-Smith! Why, what’s he been +doing?”</p> + +<p>“Apparently he gave a sort of +supper to celebrate his getting his first, and it +was while coming back from that that Wyatt got collared. +Well, I’m blowed if Neville-Smith doesn’t +toddle off to the Old Man after school to-day and +tell him the whole yarn! Said it was all his +fault. What rot! Sort of thing that might +have happened to any one. If Wyatt hadn’t +gone to him, he’d probably have gone out somewhere +else.”</p> + +<p>“And the Old Man shoved him in extra?”</p> + +<p>“Next two Saturdays.”</p> + +<p>“Are Ripton strong this year?” +asked Bob, for lack of anything better to say.</p> + +<p>“Very, from all accounts. +They whacked the M.C.C. Jolly hot team of M.C.C. +too. Stronger than the one we drew with.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, you never know what’s +going to happen at cricket. I may hold a catch +for a change.”</p> + +<p>Burgess grunted.</p> + +<p>Bob went on his way to the nets. Mike was just +putting on his pads.</p> + +<p>“I say, Mike,” said Bob. +“I wanted to see you. It’s about Wyatt. +I’ve thought of something.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?”</p> + +<p>“A way of getting him out of +that bank. If it comes off, that’s to say.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, he’d jump at anything. +What’s the idea?”</p> + +<p>“Why shouldn’t he get +a job of sorts out in the Argentine? There ought +to be heaps of sound jobs going there for a chap like +Wyatt. He’s a jolly good shot, to start +with. I shouldn’t wonder if it wasn’t +rather a score to be able to shoot out there. +And he can ride, I know.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, I’ll write to +father to-night. He must be able to work it, I +should think. He never chucked the show altogether, +did he?”</p> + +<p>Mike, as most other boys of his age +would have been, was profoundly ignorant as to the +details by which his father’s money had been, +or was being, made. He only knew vaguely that +the source of revenue had something to do with the +Argentine. His brother Joe had been born in Buenos +Ayres; and once, three years ago, his father had gone +over there for a visit, presumably on business. +All these things seemed to show that Mr. Jackson senior +was a useful man to have about if you wanted a job +in that Eldorado, the Argentine Republic.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Mike’s +father owned vast tracts of land up country, where +countless sheep lived and had their being. He +had long retired from active superintendence of his +estate. Like Mr. Spenlow, he had a partner, a +stout fellow with the work-taint highly developed, +who asked nothing better than to be left in charge. +So Mr. Jackson had returned to the home of his fathers, +glad to be there again. But he still had a decided +voice in the ordering of affairs on the ranches, and +Mike was going to the fountain-head of things when +he wrote to his father that night, putting forward +Wyatt’s claims to attention and ability to perform +any sort of job with which he might be presented.</p> + +<p>The reflection that he had done all +that could be done tended to console him for the non-appearance +of Wyatt either that night or next morning—a +non-appearance which was due to the simple fact that +he passed that night in a bed in Mr. Wain’s +dressing-room, the door of which that cautious pedagogue, +who believed in taking no chances, locked from the +outside on retiring to rest.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch27"> +CHAPTER XXVII<br/><br/> +THE RIPTON MATCH</a></h3> + +<p>Mike got an answer from his father +on the morning of the Ripton match. A letter +from Wyatt also lay on his plate when he came down +to breakfast.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jackson’s letter was short, +but to the point. He said he would go and see +Wyatt early in the next week. He added that being +expelled from a public school was not the only qualification +for success as a sheep-farmer, but that, if Mike’s +friend added to this a general intelligence and amiability, +and a skill for picking off cats with an air-pistol +and bull’s-eyes with a Lee-Enfield, there was +no reason why something should not be done for him. +In any case he would buy him a lunch, so that Wyatt +would extract at least some profit from his visit. +He said that he hoped something could be managed. +It was a pity that a boy accustomed to shoot cats +should be condemned for the rest of his life to shoot +nothing more exciting than his cuffs.</p> + +<p>Wyatt’s letter was longer. +It might have been published under the title “My +First Day in a Bank, by a Beginner.” His +advent had apparently caused little sensation. +He had first had a brief conversation with the manager, +which had run as follows:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wyatt?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“H’m ... Sportsman?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Cricketer?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Play football?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“H’m ... Racquets?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Everything?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“H’m ... Well, you won’t get +any more of it now.”</p> + +<p> +After which a Mr. Blenkinsop had led him up to a vast ledger, in which he was +to inscribe the addresses of all out-going letters. These letters he would then +stamp, and subsequently take in bundles to the post office. Once a week he +would be required to buy stamps. “If I were one of those Napoleons of Finance,” +wrote Wyatt, “I should cook the accounts, I suppose, and embezzle stamps to an +incredible amount. But it doesn’t seem in my line. I’m afraid I wasn’t cut out +for a business career. Still, I have stamped this letter at the expense of the +office, and entered it up under the heading ‘Sundries,’ which is a sort of +start. Look out for an article in the <i>Wrykynian</i>, ‘Hints for Young +Criminals, by J. Wyatt, champion catch-as-catch-can stamp-stealer of the +British Isles.’ So long. I suppose you are playing against Ripton, now that the +world of commerce has found that it can’t get on without me. Mind you make a +century, and then perhaps Burgess’ll give you your first after all. There were +twelve colours given three years ago, because one chap left at half-term and +the man who played instead of him came off against Ripton.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>This had occurred to Mike independently. +The Ripton match was a special event, and the man +who performed any outstanding feat against that school +was treated as a sort of Horatius. Honours were +heaped upon him. If he could only make a century! +or even fifty. Even twenty, if it got the school +out of a tight place. He was as nervous on the +Saturday morning as he had been on the morning of the +M.C.C. match. It was Victory or Westminster Abbey +now. To do only averagely well, to be among the +ruck, would be as useless as not playing at all, as +far as his chance of his first was concerned.</p> + +<p>It was evident to those who woke early +on the Saturday morning that this Ripton match was +not likely to end in a draw. During the Friday +rain had fallen almost incessantly in a steady drizzle. +It had stopped late at night; and at six in the morning +there was every prospect of another hot day. +There was that feeling in the air which shows that +the sun is trying to get through the clouds. The +sky was a dull grey at breakfast time, except where +a flush of deeper colour gave a hint of the sun. +It was a day on which to win the toss, and go in first. +At eleven-thirty, when the match was timed to begin, +the wicket would be too wet to be difficult. +Runs would come easily till the sun came out and began +to dry the ground. When that happened there would +be trouble for the side that was batting.</p> + +<p>Burgess, inspecting the wicket with +Mr. Spence during the quarter to eleven interval, +was not slow to recognise this fact.</p> + +<p>“I should win the toss to-day, +if I were you, Burgess,” said Mr. Spence.</p> + +<p>“Just what I was thinking, sir.”</p> + +<p>“That wicket’s going to +get nasty after lunch, if the sun comes out. A +regular Rhodes wicket it’s going to be.”</p> + +<p>“I wish we <i>had</i> Rhodes,” +said Burgess. “Or even Wyatt. It would +just suit him, this.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Spence, as a member of the staff, +was not going to be drawn into discussing Wyatt and +his premature departure, so he diverted the conversation +on to the subject of the general aspect of the school’s +attack.</p> + +<p>“Who will go on first with you, Burgess?”</p> + +<p>“Who do you think, sir? Ellerby? It +might be his wicket.”</p> + +<p>Ellerby bowled medium inclining to +slow. On a pitch that suited him he was apt to +turn from leg and get people out caught at the wicket +or short slip.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Ellerby. This +end, I think. The other’s yours, though +I’m afraid you’ll have a poor time bowling +fast to-day. Even with plenty of sawdust I doubt +if it will be possible to get a decent foothold till +after lunch.”</p> + +<p>“I must win the toss,” +said Burgess. “It’s a nuisance too, +about our batting. Marsh will probably be dead +out of form after being in the Infirmary so long. +If he’d had a chance of getting a bit of practice +yesterday, it might have been all right.”</p> + +<p>“That rain will have a lot to +answer for if we lose. On a dry, hard wicket +I’m certain we should beat them four times out +of six. I was talking to a man who played against +them for the Nomads. He said that on a true wicket +there was not a great deal of sting in their bowling, +but that they’ve got a slow leg-break man who +might be dangerous on a day like this. A boy +called de Freece. I don’t know of him. +He wasn’t in the team last year.”</p> + +<p>“I know the chap. He played +wing three for them at footer against us this year +on their ground. He was crocked when they came +here. He’s a pretty useful chap all round, +I believe. Plays racquets for them too.”</p> + +<p>“Well, my friend said he had +one very dangerous ball, of the Bosanquet type. +Looks as if it were going away, and comes in instead.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think a lot of +that,” said Burgess ruefully. “One +consolation is, though, that that sort of ball is +easier to watch on a slow wicket. I must tell +the fellows to look out for it.”</p> + +<p>“I should. And, above all, win the toss.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Burgess and Maclaine, the Ripton captain, +were old acquaintances. They had been at the +same private school, and they had played against one +another at football and cricket for two years now.</p> + +<p>“We’ll go in first, Mac,” +said Burgess, as they met on the pavilion steps after +they had changed.</p> + +<p>“It’s awfully good of +you to suggest it,” said Maclaine. “but +I think we’ll toss. It’s a hobby +of mine. You call.”</p> + +<p>“Heads.”</p> + +<p>“Tails it is. I ought to +have warned you that you hadn’t a chance. +I’ve lost the toss five times running, so I was +bound to win to-day.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll put us in, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—after us.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, we sha’n’t +have long to wait for our knock, that’s a comfort. +Buck up and send some one in, and let’s get at +you.”</p> + +<p>And Burgess went off to tell the ground-man +to have plenty of sawdust ready, as he would want +the field paved with it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The policy of the Ripton team was +obvious from the first over. They meant to force +the game. Already the sun was beginning to peep +through the haze. For about an hour run-getting +ought to be a tolerably simple process; but after +that hour singles would be as valuable as threes and +boundaries an almost unheard-of luxury.</p> + +<p>So Ripton went in to hit.</p> + +<p>The policy proved successful for a +time, as it generally does. Burgess, who relied +on a run that was a series of tiger-like leaps culminating +in a spring that suggested that he meant to lower the +long jump record, found himself badly handicapped +by the state of the ground. In spite of frequent +libations of sawdust, he was compelled to tread cautiously, +and this robbed his bowling of much of its pace. +The score mounted rapidly. Twenty came in ten +minutes. At thirty-five the first wicket fell, +run out.</p> + +<p>At sixty Ellerby, who had found the +pitch too soft for him and had been expensive, gave +place to Grant. Grant bowled what were supposed +to be slow leg-breaks, but which did not always break. +The change worked.</p> + +<p>Maclaine, after hitting the first +two balls to the boundary, skied the third to Bob +Jackson in the deep, and Bob, for whom constant practice +had robbed this sort of catch of its terrors, held +it.</p> + +<p>A yorker from Burgess disposed of +the next man before he could settle down; but the +score, seventy-four for three wickets, was large enough +in view of the fact that the pitch was already becoming +more difficult, and was certain to get worse, to make +Ripton feel that the advantage was with them. +Another hour of play remained before lunch. The +deterioration of the wicket would be slow during that +period. The sun, which was now shining brightly, +would put in its deadliest work from two o’clock +onwards. Maclaine’s instructions to his +men were to go on hitting.</p> + +<p>A too liberal interpretation of the +meaning of the verb “to hit” led to the +departure of two more Riptonians in the course of the +next two overs. There is a certain type of school +batsman who considers that to force the game means +to swipe blindly at every ball on the chance of taking +it half-volley. This policy sometimes leads to +a boundary or two, as it did on this occasion, but +it means that wickets will fall, as also happened +now. Seventy-four for three became eighty-six +for five. Burgess began to look happier.</p> + +<p>His contentment increased when he +got the next man leg-before-wicket with the total +unaltered. At this rate Ripton would be out before +lunch for under a hundred.</p> + +<p>But the rot stopped with the fall +of that wicket. Dashing tactics were laid aside. +The pitch had begun to play tricks, and the pair now +in settled down to watch the ball. They plodded +on, scoring slowly and jerkily till the hands of the +clock stood at half-past one. Then Ellerby, who +had gone on again instead of Grant, beat the less steady +of the pair with a ball that pitched on the middle +stump and shot into the base of the off. A hundred +and twenty had gone up on the board at the beginning +of the over.</p> + +<p>That period which is always so dangerous, +when the wicket is bad, the ten minutes before lunch, +proved fatal to two more of the enemy. The last +man had just gone to the wickets, with the score at +a hundred and thirty-one, when a quarter to two arrived, +and with it the luncheon interval.</p> + +<p>So far it was anybody’s game.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch28"> +CHAPTER XXVIII<br/><br/> +MIKE WINS HOME</a></h3> + +<p>The Ripton last-wicket man was de +Freece, the slow bowler. He was apparently a +young gentleman wholly free from the curse of nervousness. +He wore a cheerful smile as he took guard before receiving +the first ball after lunch, and Wrykyn had plenty of +opportunity of seeing that that was his normal expression +when at the wickets. There is often a certain +looseness about the attack after lunch, and the bowler +of googlies took advantage of it now. He seemed +to be a batsman with only one hit; but he had also +a very accurate eye, and his one hit, a semicircular +stroke, which suggested the golf links rather than +the cricket field, came off with distressing frequency. +He mowed Burgess’s first ball to the square-leg +boundary, missed his second, and snicked the third +for three over long-slip’s head. The other +batsman played out the over, and de Freece proceeded +to treat Ellerby’s bowling with equal familiarity. +The scoring-board showed an increase of twenty as +the result of three overs. Every run was invaluable +now, and the Ripton contingent made the pavilion re-echo +as a fluky shot over mid-on’s head sent up the +hundred and fifty.</p> + +<p>There are few things more exasperating +to the fielding side than a last-wicket stand. +It resembles in its effect the dragging-out of a book +or play after the <i>dénouement</i> has been reached. +At the fall of the ninth wicket the fieldsmen nearly +always look on their outing as finished. Just +a ball or two to the last man, and it will be their +turn to bat. If the last man insists on keeping +them out in the field, they resent it.</p> + +<p>What made it especially irritating +now was the knowledge that a straight yorker would +solve the whole thing. But when Burgess bowled +a yorker, it was not straight. And when he bowled +a straight ball, it was not a yorker. A four +and a three to de Freece, and a four bye sent up a +hundred and sixty.</p> + +<p>It was beginning to look as if this +might go on for ever, when Ellerby, who had been missing +the stumps by fractions of an inch, for the last ten +minutes, did what Burgess had failed to do. He +bowled a straight, medium-paced yorker, and de Freece, +swiping at it with a bright smile, found his leg-stump +knocked back. He had made twenty-eight. +His record score, he explained to Mike, as they walked +to the pavilion, for this or any ground.</p> + +<p>The Ripton total was a hundred and sixty-six.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>With the ground in its usual true, +hard condition, Wrykyn would have gone in against +a score of a hundred and sixty-six with the cheery +intention of knocking off the runs for the loss of +two or three wickets. It would have been a gentle +canter for them.</p> + +<p>But ordinary standards would not apply +here. On a good wicket Wrykyn that season were +a two hundred and fifty to three hundred side. +On a bad wicket—well, they had met the +Incogniti on a bad wicket, and their total—with +Wyatt playing and making top score—had worked +out at a hundred and seven.</p> + +<p>A grim determination to do their best, +rather than confidence that their best, when done, +would be anything record-breaking, was the spirit +which animated the team when they opened their innings.</p> + +<p>And in five minutes this had changed to a dull gloom.</p> + +<p>The tragedy started with the very +first ball. It hardly seemed that the innings +had begun, when Morris was seen to leave the crease, +and make for the pavilion.</p> + +<p>“It’s that googly man,” said Burgess +blankly.</p> + +<p>“What’s happened?” +shouted a voice from the interior of the first eleven +room.</p> + +<p>“Morris is out.”</p> + +<p>“Good gracious! How?” +asked Ellerby, emerging from the room with one pad +on his leg and the other in his hand.</p> + +<p>“L.-b.-w. First ball.”</p> + +<p>“My aunt! Who’s in next? Not +me?”</p> + +<p>“No. Berridge. For +goodness sake, Berry, stick a bat in the way, and +not your legs. Watch that de Freece man like a +hawk. He breaks like sin all over the shop. +Hullo, Morris! Bad luck! Were you out, do +you think?” A batsman who has been given l.-b.-w. +is always asked this question on his return to the +pavilion, and he answers it in nine cases out of ten +in the negative. Morris was the tenth case. +He thought it was all right, he said.</p> + +<p>“Thought the thing was going to break, but it +didn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Hear that, Berry? He doesn’t +always break. You must look out for that,” +said Burgess helpfully. Morris sat down and began +to take off his pads.</p> + +<p>“That chap’ll have Berry, if he doesn’t +look out,” he said.</p> + +<p>But Berridge survived the ordeal. +He turned his first ball to leg for a single.</p> + +<p>This brought Marsh to the batting +end; and the second tragedy occurred.</p> + +<p>It was evident from the way he shaped +that Marsh was short of practice. His visit to +the Infirmary had taken the edge off his batting. +He scratched awkwardly at three balls without hitting +them. The last of the over had him in two minds. +He started to play forward, changed his stroke suddenly +and tried to step back, and the next moment the bails +had shot up like the <i>débris</i> of a small explosion, +and the wicket-keeper was clapping his gloved hands +gently and slowly in the introspective, dreamy way +wicket-keepers have on these occasions.</p> + +<p>A silence that could be felt brooded over the pavilion.</p> + +<p>The voice of the scorer, addressing +from his little wooden hut the melancholy youth who +was working the telegraph-board, broke it.</p> + +<p>“One for two. Last man duck.”</p> + +<p>Ellerby echoed the remark. He got up, and took +off his blazer.</p> + +<p>“This is all right,” he +said, “isn’t it! I wonder if the man +at the other end is a sort of young Rhodes too!”</p> + +<p>Fortunately he was not. The star +of the Ripton attack was evidently de Freece. +The bowler at the other end looked fairly plain. +He sent them down medium-pace, and on a good wicket +would probably have been simple. But to-day there +was danger in the most guileless-looking deliveries.</p> + +<p>Berridge relieved the tension a little +by playing safely through the over, and scoring a +couple of twos off it. And when Ellerby not only +survived the destructive de Freece’s second over, +but actually lifted a loose ball on to the roof of +the scoring-hut, the cloud began perceptibly to lift. +A no-ball in the same over sent up the first ten. +Ten for two was not good; but it was considerably better +than one for two.</p> + +<p>With the score at thirty, Ellerby +was missed in the slips off de Freece. He had +been playing with slowly increasing confidence till +then, but this seemed to throw him out of his stride. +He played inside the next ball, and was all but bowled: +and then, jumping out to drive, he was smartly stumped. +The cloud began to settle again.</p> + +<p>Bob was the next man in.</p> + +<p>Ellerby took off his pads, and dropped +into the chair next to Mike’s. Mike was +silent and thoughtful. He was in after Bob, and +to be on the eve of batting does not make one conversational.</p> + +<p>“You in next?” asked Ellerby.</p> + +<p>Mike nodded.</p> + +<p>“It’s getting trickier +every minute,” said Ellerby. “The +only thing is, if we can only stay in, we might have +a chance. The wicket’ll get better, and +I don’t believe they’ve any bowling at +all bar de Freece. By George, Bob’s out!... +No, he isn’t.”</p> + +<p>Bob had jumped out at one of de Freece’s +slows, as Ellerby had done, and had nearly met the +same fate. The wicket-keeper, however, had fumbled +the ball.</p> + +<p>“That’s the way I was +had,” said Ellerby. “That man’s +keeping such a jolly good length that you don’t +know whether to stay in your ground or go out at them. +If only somebody would knock him off his length, I +believe we might win yet.”</p> + +<p>The same idea apparently occurred +to Burgess. He came to where Mike was sitting.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to shove you +down one, Jackson,” he said. “I shall +go in next myself and swipe, and try and knock that +man de Freece off.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Mike. +He was not quite sure whether he was glad or sorry +at the respite.</p> + +<p>“It’s a pity old Wyatt +isn’t here,” said Ellerby. “This +is just the sort of time when he might have come off.”</p> + +<p>“Bob’s broken his egg,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Good man. Every little helps.... +Oh, you silly ass, get <i>back</i>!”</p> + +<p>Berridge had called Bob for a short +run that was obviously no run. Third man was +returning the ball as the batsmen crossed. The +next moment the wicket-keeper had the bails off. +Berridge was out by a yard.</p> + +<p>“Forty-one for four,” said Ellerby. +“Help!”</p> + +<p>Burgess began his campaign against +de Freece by skying his first ball over cover’s +head to the boundary. A howl of delight went up +from the school, which was repeated, <i>fortissimo</i>, +when, more by accident than by accurate timing, the +captain put on two more fours past extra-cover. +The bowler’s cheerful smile never varied.</p> + +<p>Whether Burgess would have knocked +de Freece off his length or not was a question that +was destined to remain unsolved, for in the middle +of the other bowler’s over Bob hit a single; +the batsmen crossed; and Burgess had his leg-stump +uprooted while trying a gigantic pull-stroke.</p> + +<p>The melancholy youth put up the figures, +54, 5, 12, on the board.</p> + +<p>Mike, as he walked out of the pavilion +to join Bob, was not conscious of any particular nervousness. +It had been an ordeal having to wait and look on while +wickets fell, but now that the time of inaction was +at an end he felt curiously composed. When he +had gone out to bat against the M.C.C. on the occasion +of his first appearance for the school, he experienced +a quaint sensation of unreality. He seemed to +be watching his body walking to the wickets, as if +it were some one else’s. There was no sense +of individuality.</p> + +<p>But now his feelings were different. +He was cool. He noticed small things—mid-off +chewing bits of grass, the bowler re-tying the scarf +round his waist, little patches of brown where the +turf had been worn away. He took guard with a +clear picture of the positions of the fieldsmen photographed +on his brain.</p> + +<p>Fitness, which in a batsman exhibits +itself mainly in an increased power of seeing the +ball, is one of the most inexplicable things connected +with cricket. It has nothing, or very little, +to do with actual health. A man may come out +of a sick-room with just that extra quickness in sighting +the ball that makes all the difference; or he may +be in perfect training and play inside straight half-volleys. +Mike would not have said that he felt more than ordinarily +well that day. Indeed, he was rather painfully +conscious of having bolted his food at lunch. +But something seemed to whisper to him, as he settled +himself to face the bowler, that he was at the top +of his batting form. A difficult wicket always +brought out his latent powers as a bat. It was +a standing mystery with the sporting Press how Joe +Jackson managed to collect fifties and sixties on +wickets that completely upset men who were, apparently, +finer players. On days when the Olympians of the +cricket world were bringing their averages down with +ducks and singles, Joe would be in his element, watching +the ball and pushing it through the slips as if there +were no such thing as a tricky wicket. And Mike +took after Joe.</p> + +<p>A single off the fifth ball of the +over opened his score and brought him to the opposite +end. Bob played ball number six back to the bowler, +and Mike took guard preparatory to facing de Freece.</p> + +<p>The Ripton slow bowler took a long +run, considering his pace. In the early part +of an innings he often trapped the batsmen in this +way, by leading them to expect a faster ball than +he actually sent down. A queer little jump in +the middle of the run increased the difficulty of +watching him.</p> + +<p>The smiting he had received from Burgess +in the previous over had not had the effect of knocking +de Freece off his length. The ball was too short +to reach with comfort, and not short enough to take +liberties with. It pitched slightly to leg, and +whipped in quickly. Mike had faced half-left, +and stepped back. The increased speed of the ball +after it had touched the ground beat him. The +ball hit his right pad.</p> + +<p>“’S that?” shouted +mid-on. Mid-on has a habit of appealing for l.-b.-w. +in school matches.</p> + +<p>De Freece said nothing. The Ripton +bowler was as conscientious in the matter of appeals +as a good bowler should be. He had seen that the +ball had pitched off the leg-stump.</p> + +<p>The umpire shook his head. Mid-on +tried to look as if he had not spoken.</p> + +<p>Mike prepared himself for the next +ball with a glow of confidence. He felt that +he knew where he was now. Till then he had not +thought the wicket was so fast. The two balls +he had played at the other end had told him nothing. +They had been well pitched up, and he had smothered +them. He knew what to do now. He had played +on wickets of this pace at home against Saunders’s +bowling, and Saunders had shown him the right way +to cope with them.</p> + +<p>The next ball was of the same length, +but this time off the off-stump. Mike jumped +out, and hit it before it had time to break. It +flew along the ground through the gap between cover +and extra-cover, a comfortable three.</p> + +<p>Bob played out the over with elaborate care.</p> + +<p>Off the second ball of the other man’s +over Mike scored his first boundary. It was a +long-hop on the off. He banged it behind point +to the terrace-bank. The last ball of the over, +a half-volley to leg, he lifted over the other boundary.</p> + +<p>“Sixty up,” said Ellerby, +in the pavilion, as the umpire signalled another no-ball. +“By George! I believe these chaps are going +to knock off the runs. Young Jackson looks as +if he was in for a century.”</p> + +<p>“You ass,” said Berridge. +“Don’t say that, or he’s certain +to get out.”</p> + +<p>Berridge was one of those who are +skilled in cricket superstitions.</p> + +<p>But Mike did not get out. He +took seven off de Freece’s next over by means +of two cuts and a drive. And, with Bob still exhibiting +a stolid and rock-like defence, the score mounted +to eighty, thence to ninety, and so, mainly by singles, +to a hundred.</p> + +<p>At a hundred and four, when the wicket +had put on exactly fifty, Bob fell to a combination +of de Freece and extra-cover. He had stuck like +a limpet for an hour and a quarter, and made twenty-one.</p> + +<p>Mike watched him go with much the +same feelings as those of a man who turns away from +the platform after seeing a friend off on a long railway +journey. His departure upset the scheme of things. +For himself he had no fear now. He might possibly +get out off his next ball, but he felt set enough +to stay at the wickets till nightfall. He had +had narrow escapes from de Freece, but he was full +of that conviction, which comes to all batsmen on +occasion, that this was his day. He had made +twenty-six, and the wicket was getting easier. +He could feel the sting going out of the bowling every +over.</p> + +<p>Henfrey, the next man in, was a promising +rather than an effective bat. He had an excellent +style, but he was uncertain. (Two years later, when +he captained the Wrykyn teams, he made a lot of runs.) +But this season his batting had been spasmodic.</p> + +<p>To-day he never looked like settling +down. He survived an over from de Freece, and +hit a fast change bowler who had been put on at the +other end for a couple of fluky fours. Then Mike +got the bowling for three consecutive overs, and raised +the score to a hundred and twenty-six. A bye +brought Henfrey to the batting end again, and de Freece’s +pet googly, which had not been much in evidence hitherto, +led to his snicking an easy catch into short-slip’s +hands.</p> + +<p>A hundred and twenty-seven for seven +against a total of a hundred and sixty-six gives the +impression that the batting side has the advantage. +In the present case, however, it was Ripton who were +really in the better position. Apparently, Wrykyn +had three more wickets to fall. Practically they +had only one, for neither Ashe, nor Grant, nor Devenish +had any pretensions to be considered batsmen. +Ashe was the school wicket-keeper. Grant and +Devenish were bowlers. Between them the three +could not be relied on for a dozen in a decent match.</p> + +<p>Mike watched Ashe shape with a sinking +heart. The wicket-keeper looked like a man who +feels that his hour has come. Mike could see him +licking his lips. There was nervousness written +all over him.</p> + +<p>He was not kept long in suspense. +De Freece’s first ball made a hideous wreck +of his wicket.</p> + +<p>“Over,” said the umpire.</p> + +<p>Mike felt that the school’s +one chance now lay in his keeping the bowling. +But how was he to do this? It suddenly occurred +to him that it was a delicate position that he was +in. It was not often that he was troubled by +an inconvenient modesty, but this happened now. +Grant was a fellow he hardly knew, and a school prefect +to boot. Could he go up to him and explain that +he, Jackson, did not consider him competent to bat +in this crisis? Would not this get about and be +accounted to him for side? He had made forty, +but even so....</p> + +<p>Fortunately Grant solved the problem +on his own account. He came up to Mike and spoke +with an earnestness born of nerves. “For +goodness sake,” he whispered, “collar +the bowling all you know, or we’re done. +I shall get outed first ball.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Mike, +and set his teeth. Forty to win! A large +order. But it was going to be done. His whole +existence seemed to concentrate itself on those forty +runs.</p> + +<p>The fast bowler, who was the last +of several changes that had been tried at the other +end, was well-meaning but erratic. The wicket +was almost true again now, and it was possible to +take liberties.</p> + +<p>Mike took them.</p> + +<p>A distant clapping from the pavilion, +taken up a moment later all round the ground, and +echoed by the Ripton fieldsmen, announced that he +had reached his fifty.</p> + +<p>The last ball of the over he mishit. +It rolled in the direction of third man.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” shouted Grant.</p> + +<p>Mike and the ball arrived at the opposite +wicket almost simultaneously. Another fraction +of a second, and he would have been run out.</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus6"> +<img src="images/jmike6.jpg" alt="MIKE AND THE BALL ARRIVED ALMOST SIMULTANEOUSLY" /> +</a></p> + +<p>The last balls of the next two overs +provided repetitions of this performance. But +each time luck was with him, and his bat was across +the crease before the bails were off. The telegraph-board +showed a hundred and fifty.</p> + +<p>The next over was doubly sensational. +The original medium-paced bowler had gone on again +in place of the fast man, and for the first five balls +he could not find his length. During those five +balls Mike raised the score to a hundred and sixty.</p> + +<p>But the sixth was of a different kind. +Faster than the rest and of a perfect length, it all +but got through Mike’s defence. As it was, +he stopped it. But he did not score. The +umpire called “Over!” and there was Grant +at the batting end, with de Freece smiling pleasantly +as he walked back to begin his run with the comfortable +reflection that at last he had got somebody except +Mike to bowl at.</p> + +<p>That over was an experience Mike never forgot.</p> + +<p>Grant pursued the Fabian policy of +keeping his bat almost immovable and trusting to luck. +Point and the slips crowded round. Mid-off and +mid-on moved half-way down the pitch. Grant looked +embarrassed, but determined. For four balls he +baffled the attack, though once nearly caught by point +a yard from the wicket. The fifth curled round +his bat, and touched the off-stump. A bail fell +silently to the ground.</p> + +<p>Devenish came in to take the last ball of the over.</p> + +<p>It was an awe-inspiring moment. +A great stillness was over all the ground. Mike’s +knees trembled. Devenish’s face was a delicate +grey.</p> + +<p>The only person unmoved seemed to +be de Freece. His smile was even more amiable +than usual as he began his run.</p> + +<p>The next moment the crisis was past. +The ball hit the very centre of Devenish’s bat, +and rolled back down the pitch.</p> + +<p>The school broke into one great howl +of joy. There were still seven runs between them +and victory, but nobody appeared to recognise this +fact as important. Mike had got the bowling, and +the bowling was not de Freece’s.</p> + +<p>It seemed almost an anti-climax when +a four to leg and two two’s through the slips +settled the thing.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Devenish was caught and bowled in +de Freece’s next over; but the Wrykyn total +was one hundred and seventy-two.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“Good game,” said Maclaine, +meeting Burgess in the pavilion. “Who was +the man who made all the runs? How many, by the +way?”</p> + +<p>“Eighty-three. It was young +Jackson. Brother of the other one.”</p> + +<p>“That family! How many +more of them are you going to have here?”</p> + +<p>“He’s the last. I +say, rough luck on de Freece. He bowled rippingly.”</p> + +<p>Politeness to a beaten foe caused +Burgess to change his usual “not bad.”</p> + +<p>“The funny part of it is,” +continued he, “that young Jackson was only playing +as a sub.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve got a rum idea of what’s +funny,” said Maclaine.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch29"> +CHAPTER XXIX<br/><br/> +WYATT AGAIN</a></h3> + +<p>It was a morning in the middle of +September. The Jacksons were breakfasting. +Mr. Jackson was reading letters. The rest, including +Gladys Maud, whose finely chiselled features were gradually +disappearing behind a mask of bread-and-milk, had settled +down to serious work. The usual catch-as-catch-can +contest between Marjory and Phyllis for the jam (referee +and time-keeper, Mrs. Jackson) had resulted, after +both combatants had been cautioned by the referee, +in a victory for Marjory, who had duly secured the +stakes. The hour being nine-fifteen, and the +official time for breakfast nine o’clock, Mike’s +place was still empty.</p> + +<p>“I’ve had a letter from MacPherson,” +said Mr. Jackson.</p> + +<p>MacPherson was the vigorous and persevering +gentleman, referred to in a previous chapter, who +kept a fatherly eye on the Buenos Ayres sheep.</p> + +<p>“He seems very satisfied with +Mike’s friend Wyatt. At the moment of writing +Wyatt is apparently incapacitated owing to a bullet +in the shoulder, but expects to be fit again shortly. +That young man seems to make things fairly lively +wherever he is. I don’t wonder he found +a public school too restricted a sphere for his energies.”</p> + +<p>“Has he been fighting a duel?” +asked Marjory, interested.</p> + +<p>“Bushrangers,” said Phyllis.</p> + +<p>“There aren’t any bushrangers in Buenos +Ayres,” said Ella.</p> + +<p>“How do you know?” said Phyllis clinchingly.</p> + +<p>“Bush-ray, bush-ray, bush-ray,” +began Gladys Maud, conversationally, through the bread-and-milk; +but was headed off.</p> + +<p>“He gives no details. Perhaps +that letter on Mike’s plate supplies them. +I see it comes from Buenos Ayres.”</p> + +<p>“I wish Mike would come and +open it,” said Marjory. “Shall I go +and hurry him up?”</p> + +<p>The missing member of the family entered as she spoke.</p> + +<p>“Buck up, Mike,” she shouted. +“There’s a letter from Wyatt. He’s +been wounded in a duel.”</p> + +<p>“With a bushranger,” added Phyllis.</p> + +<p>“Bush-ray,” explained Gladys Maud.</p> + +<p>“Is there?” said Mike. “Sorry +I’m late.”</p> + +<p>He opened the letter and began to read.</p> + +<p>“What does he say?” inquired Marjory. +“Who was the duel with?”</p> + +<p>“How many bushrangers were there?” asked +Phyllis.</p> + +<p>Mike read on.</p> + +<p>“Good old Wyatt! He’s shot a man.”</p> + +<p>“Killed him?” asked Marjory excitedly.</p> + +<p> +“No. Only potted him in the leg. This is what he says. First page is mostly +about the Ripton match and so on. Here you are. ‘I’m dictating this to a +sportsman of the name of Danvers, a good chap who can’t help being ugly, so +excuse bad writing. The fact is we’ve been having a bust-up here, and I’ve come +out of it with a bullet in the shoulder, which has crocked me for the time +being. It happened like this. An ass of a Gaucho had gone into the town and got +jolly tight, and coming back, he wanted to ride through our place. The old +woman who keeps the lodge wouldn’t have it at any price. Gave him the absolute +miss-in-baulk. So this rotter, instead of shifting off, proceeded to cut the +fence, and go through that way. All the farms out here have their boundaries +marked by wire fences, and it is supposed to be a deadly sin to cut these. +Well, the lodge-keeper’s son dashed off in search of help. A chap called +Chester, an Old Wykehamist, and I were dipping sheep close by, so he came to us +and told us what had happened. We nipped on to a couple of horses, pulled out +our revolvers, and tooled after him. After a bit we overtook him, and that’s +when the trouble began. The johnny had dismounted when we arrived. I thought he +was simply tightening his horse’s girths. What he was really doing was getting +a steady aim at us with his revolver. He fired as we came up, and dropped poor +old Chester. I thought he was killed at first, but it turned out it was only +his leg. I got going then. I emptied all the six chambers of my revolver, and +missed him clean every time. In the meantime he got me in the right shoulder. +Hurt like sin afterwards, though it was only a sort of dull shock at the +moment. The next item of the programme was a forward move in force on the part +of the enemy. The man had got his knife out now—why he didn’t shoot again I +don’t know—and toddled over in our direction to finish us off. Chester was +unconscious, and it was any money on the Gaucho, when I happened to catch sight +of Chester’s pistol, which had fallen just by where I came down. I picked it +up, and loosed off. Missed the first shot, but got him with the second in the +ankle at about two yards; and his day’s work was done. That’s the painful +story. Danvers says he’s getting writer’s cramp, so I shall have to stop....’” +</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“What a dreadful thing!” said Mrs. Jackson.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow, it was practically a bushranger,” +said Phyllis.</p> + +<p>“I told you it was a duel, and so it was,” +said Marjory.</p> + +<p>“What a terrible experience for the poor boy!” +said Mrs. Jackson.</p> + +<p>“Much better than being in a +beastly bank,” said Mike, summing up. “I’m +glad he’s having such a ripping time. It +must be almost as decent as Wrykyn out there.... +I say, what’s under that dish?”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch30"> +CHAPTER XXX<br/><br/> +MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND</a></h3> + +<p>Two years have elapsed and Mike is home again for +the Easter holidays.</p> + +<p>If Mike had been in time for breakfast +that morning he might have gathered from the expression +on his father’s face, as Mr. Jackson opened +the envelope containing his school report and read +the contents, that the document in question was not +exactly a paean of praise from beginning to end. +But he was late, as usual. Mike always was late +for breakfast in the holidays.</p> + +<p>When he came down on this particular +morning, the meal was nearly over. Mr. Jackson +had disappeared, taking his correspondence with him; +Mrs. Jackson had gone into the kitchen, and when Mike +appeared the thing had resolved itself into a mere +vulgar brawl between Phyllis and Ella for the jam, +while Marjory, who had put her hair up a fortnight +before, looked on in a detached sort of way, as if +these juvenile gambols distressed her.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Mike,” she said, +jumping up as he entered; “here you are—I’ve +been keeping everything hot for you.”</p> + +<p>“Have you? Thanks awfully. +I say—” his eye wandered in mild surprise +round the table. “I’m a bit late.”</p> + +<p>Marjory was bustling about, fetching +and carrying for Mike, as she always did. She +had adopted him at an early age, and did the thing +thoroughly. She was fond of her other brothers, +especially when they made centuries in first-class +cricket, but Mike was her favourite. She would +field out in the deep as a natural thing when Mike +was batting at the net in the paddock, though for +the others, even for Joe, who had played in all five +Test Matches in the previous summer, she would do +it only as a favour.</p> + +<p>Phyllis and Ella finished their dispute +and went out. Marjory sat on the table and watched +Mike eat.</p> + +<p>“Your report came this morning, Mike,” +she said.</p> + +<p>The kidneys failed to retain Mike’s +undivided attention. He looked up interested. +“What did it say?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t see—I +only caught sight of the Wrykyn crest on the envelope. +Father didn’t say anything.”</p> + +<p>Mike seemed concerned. “I +say, that looks rather rotten! I wonder if it +was awfully bad. It’s the first I’ve +had from Appleby.”</p> + +<p>“It can’t be any worse +than the horrid ones Mr. Blake used to write when +you were in his form.”</p> + +<p>“No, that’s a comfort,” +said Mike philosophically. “Think there’s +any more tea in that pot?”</p> + +<p>“I call it a shame,” said +Marjory; “they ought to be jolly glad to have +you at Wrykyn just for cricket, instead of writing +beastly reports that make father angry and don’t +do any good to anybody.”</p> + +<p>“Last summer he said he’d +take me away if I got another one.”</p> + +<p>“He didn’t mean it really, +I <i>know</i> he didn’t! He couldn’t! +You’re the best bat Wrykyn’s ever had.”</p> + +<p>“What ho!” interpolated Mike.</p> + +<p>“You <i>are</i>. Everybody +says you are. Why, you got your first the very +first term you were there—even Joe didn’t +do anything nearly so good as that. Saunders +says you’re simply bound to play for England +in another year or two.”</p> + +<p>“Saunders is a jolly good chap. +He bowled me a half-volley on the off the first ball +I had in a school match. By the way, I wonder +if he’s out at the net now. Let’s +go and see.”</p> + +<p>Saunders was setting up the net when +they arrived. Mike put on his pads and went to +the wickets, while Marjory and the dogs retired as +usual to the far hedge to retrieve.</p> + +<p>She was kept busy. Saunders was +a good sound bowler of the M.C.C. minor match type, +and there had been a time when he had worried Mike +considerably, but Mike had been in the Wrykyn team +for three seasons now, and each season he had advanced +tremendously in his batting. He had filled out +in three years. He had always had the style, and +now he had the strength as well. Saunders’s +bowling on a true wicket seemed simple to him. +It was early in the Easter holidays, but already he +was beginning to find his form. Saunders, who +looked on Mike as his own special invention, was delighted.</p> + +<p>“If you don’t be worried +by being too anxious now that you’re captain, +Master Mike,” he said, “you’ll make +a century every match next term.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I wasn’t; it’s a beastly +responsibility.”</p> + +<p>Henfrey, the Wrykyn cricket captain +of the previous season, was not returning next term, +and Mike was to reign in his stead. He liked the +prospect, but it certainly carried with it a rather +awe-inspiring responsibility. At night sometimes +he would lie awake, appalled by the fear of losing +his form, or making a hash of things by choosing the +wrong men to play for the school and leaving the right +men out. It is no light thing to captain a public +school at cricket.</p> + +<p>As he was walking towards the house, +Phyllis met him. “Oh, I’ve been hunting +for you, Mike; father wants you.”</p> + +<p>“What for?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p>“He’s in the study. +He seems—” added Phyllis, throwing +in the information by way of a make-weight, “in +a beastly wax.”</p> + +<p>Mike’s jaw fell slightly. +“I hope the dickens it’s nothing to do +with that bally report,” was his muttered exclamation.</p> + +<p>Mike’s dealings with his father +were as a rule of a most pleasant nature. Mr. +Jackson was an understanding sort of man, who treated +his sons as companions. From time to time, however, +breezes were apt to ruffle the placid sea of good-fellowship. +Mike’s end-of-term report was an unfailing wind-raiser; +indeed, on the arrival of Mr. Blake’s sarcastic +<i>résumé</i> of Mike’s short-comings at the +end of the previous term, there had been something +not unlike a typhoon. It was on this occasion +that Mr. Jackson had solemnly declared his intention +of removing Mike from Wrykyn unless the critics became +more flattering; and Mr. Jackson was a man of his +word.</p> + +<p>It was with a certain amount of apprehension, +therefore, that Jackson entered the study.</p> + +<p>“Come in, Mike,” said +his father, kicking the waste-paper basket; “I +want to speak to you.”</p> + +<p>Mike, skilled in omens, scented a +row in the offing. Only in moments of emotion +was Mr. Jackson in the habit of booting the basket.</p> + +<p>There followed an awkward silence, +which Mike broke by remarking that he had carted a +half-volley from Saunders over the on-side hedge that +morning.</p> + +<p>“It was just a bit short and +off the leg stump, so I stepped out—may +I bag the paper-knife for a jiffy? I’ll +just show——”</p> + +<p>“Never mind about cricket now,” +said Mr. Jackson; “I want you to listen to this +report.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, is that my report, father?” +said Mike, with a sort of sickly interest, much as +a dog about to be washed might evince in his tub.</p> + +<p>“It is,” replied Mr. Jackson +in measured tones, “your report; what is more, +it is without exception the worst report you have ever +had.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I say!” groaned the record-breaker.</p> + +<p> +“‘His conduct,’” quoted Mr. Jackson, “‘has been unsatisfactory in the extreme, +both in and out of school.’” +</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t anything really. I only +happened——”</p> + +<p>Remembering suddenly that what he +had happened to do was to drop a cannon-ball (the +school weight) on the form-room floor, not once, but +on several occasions, he paused.</p> + +<p>“‘French bad; conduct disgraceful——’”</p> + +<p>“Everybody rags in French.”</p> + +<p>“‘Mathematics bad. Inattentive and +idle.’”</p> + +<p>“Nobody does much work in Math.”</p> + +<p>“‘Latin poor. Greek, very poor.’”</p> + +<p>“We were doing Thucydides, Book +Two, last term—all speeches and doubtful +readings, and cruxes and things—beastly +hard! Everybody says so.”</p> + +<p> +“Here are Mr. Appleby’s remarks: ‘The boy has genuine ability, which he +declines to use in the smallest degree.’” +</p> + +<p>Mike moaned a moan of righteous indignation.</p> + +<p> +“‘An abnormal proficiency at games has apparently destroyed all desire in him +to realise the more serious issues of life.’ There is more to the same effect.” +</p> + +<p>Mr. Appleby was a master with very +definite ideas as to what constituted a public-school +master’s duties. As a man he was distinctly +pro-Mike. He understood cricket, and some of Mike’s +shots on the off gave him thrills of pure aesthetic +joy; but as a master he always made it his habit to +regard the manners and customs of the boys in his +form with an unbiased eye, and to an unbiased eye Mike +in a form-room was about as near the extreme edge +as a boy could be, and Mr. Appleby said as much in +a clear firm hand.</p> + +<p>“You remember what I said to +you about your report at Christmas, Mike?” said +Mr. Jackson, folding the lethal document and replacing +it in its envelope.</p> + +<p>Mike said nothing; there was a sinking +feeling in his interior.</p> + +<p>“I shall abide by what I said.”</p> + +<p>Mike’s heart thumped.</p> + +<p>“You will not go back to Wrykyn next term.”</p> + +<p>Somewhere in the world the sun was +shining, birds were twittering; somewhere in the world +lambkins frisked and peasants sang blithely at their +toil (flat, perhaps, but still blithely), but to Mike +at that moment the sky was black, and an icy wind +blew over the face of the earth.</p> + +<p>The tragedy had happened, and there +was an end of it. He made no attempt to appeal +against the sentence. He knew it would be useless, +his father, when he made up his mind, having all the +unbending tenacity of the normally easy-going man.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jackson was sorry for Mike. +He understood him, and for that reason he said very +little now.</p> + +<p>“I am sending you to Sedleigh,” was his +next remark.</p> + +<p>Sedleigh! Mike sat up with a +jerk. He knew Sedleigh by name—one +of those schools with about a hundred fellows which +you never hear of except when they send up their gymnasium +pair to Aldershot, or their Eight to Bisley. +Mike’s outlook on life was that of a cricketer, +pure and simple. What had Sedleigh ever done? +What were they ever likely to do? Whom did they +play? What Old Sedleighan had ever done anything +at cricket? Perhaps they didn’t even <i>play</i> +cricket!</p> + +<p>“But it’s an awful hole,” he said +blankly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jackson could read Mike’s +mind like a book. Mike’s point of view +was plain to him. He did not approve of it, but +he knew that in Mike’s place and at Mike’s +age he would have felt the same. He spoke drily +to hide his sympathy.</p> + +<p>“It is not a large school,” +he said, “and I don’t suppose it could +play Wrykyn at cricket, but it has one merit—boys +work there. Young Barlitt won a Balliol scholarship +from Sedleigh last year.” Barlitt was the +vicar’s son, a silent, spectacled youth who did +not enter very largely into Mike’s world. +They had met occasionally at tennis-parties, but not +much conversation had ensued. Barlitt’s +mind was massive, but his topics of conversation were +not Mike’s.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barlitt speaks very highly +of Sedleigh,” added Mr. Jackson.</p> + +<p>Mike said nothing, which was a good +deal better than saying what he would have liked to +have said.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch31"> +CHAPTER XXXI<br/><br/> +SEDLEIGH</a></h3> + +<p>The train, which had been stopping +everywhere for the last half-hour, pulled up again, +and Mike, seeing the name of the station, got up, +opened the door, and hurled a Gladstone bag out on +to the platform in an emphatic and vindictive manner. +Then he got out himself and looked about him.</p> + +<p>“For the school, sir?” +inquired the solitary porter, bustling up, as if he +hoped by sheer energy to deceive the traveller into +thinking that Sedleigh station was staffed by a great +army of porters.</p> + +<p>Mike nodded. A sombre nod. +The nod Napoleon might have given if somebody had +met him in 1812, and said, “So you’re back +from Moscow, eh?” Mike was feeling thoroughly +jaundiced. The future seemed wholly gloomy. +And, so far from attempting to make the best of things, +he had set himself deliberately to look on the dark +side. He thought, for instance, that he had never +seen a more repulsive porter, or one more obviously +incompetent than the man who had attached himself with +a firm grasp to the handle of the bag as he strode +off in the direction of the luggage-van. He disliked +his voice, his appearance, and the colour of his hair. +Also the boots he wore. He hated the station, +and the man who took his ticket.</p> + +<p> +“Young gents at the school, sir,” said the porter, perceiving from Mike’s +<i>distrait</i> air that the boy was a stranger to the place, “goes up in the +’bus mostly. It’s waiting here, sir. Hi, George!” +</p> + +<p>“I’ll walk, thanks,” said Mike frigidly.</p> + +<p>“It’s a goodish step, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Here you are.”</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, sir. I’ll send up your luggage by the ’bus, sir. Which ’ouse was it +you was going to?” +</p> + +<p>“Outwood’s.”</p> + +<p>“Right, sir. It’s +straight on up this road to the school. You can’t +miss it, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Worse luck,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>He walked off up the road, sorrier +for himself than ever. It was such absolutely +rotten luck. About now, instead of being on his +way to a place where they probably ran a diabolo team +instead of a cricket eleven, and played hunt-the-slipper +in winter, he would be on the point of arriving at +Wrykyn. And as captain of cricket, at that. +Which was the bitter part of it. He had never +been in command. For the last two seasons he +had been the star man, going in first, and heading +the averages easily at the end of the season; and +the three captains under whom he had played during +his career as a Wrykynian, Burgess, Enderby, and Henfrey +had always been sportsmen to him. But it was not +the same thing. He had meant to do such a lot +for Wrykyn cricket this term. He had had an entirely +new system of coaching in his mind. Now it might +never be used. He had handed it on in a letter +to Strachan, who would be captain in his place; but +probably Strachan would have some scheme of his own. +There is nobody who could not edit a paper in the ideal +way; and there is nobody who has not a theory of his +own about cricket-coaching at school.</p> + +<p>Wrykyn, too, would be weak this year, +now that he was no longer there. Strachan was +a good, free bat on his day, and, if he survived a +few overs, might make a century in an hour, but he +was not to be depended upon. There was no doubt +that Mike’s sudden withdrawal meant that Wrykyn +would have a bad time that season. And it had +been such a wretched athletic year for the school. +The football fifteen had been hopeless, and had lost +both the Ripton matches, the return by over sixty +points. Sheen’s victory in the light-weights +at Aldershot had been their one success. And +now, on top of all this, the captain of cricket was +removed during the Easter holidays. Mike’s +heart bled for Wrykyn, and he found himself loathing +Sedleigh and all its works with a great loathing.</p> + +<p>The only thing he could find in its +favour was the fact that it was set in a very pretty +country. Of a different type from the Wrykyn +country, but almost as good. For three miles Mike +made his way through woods and past fields. Once +he crossed a river. It was soon after this that +he caught sight, from the top of a hill, of a group +of buildings that wore an unmistakably school-like +look.</p> + +<p>This must be Sedleigh.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes’ walk brought him +to the school gates, and a baker’s boy directed +him to Mr. Outwood’s.</p> + +<p>There were three houses in a row, +separated from the school buildings by a cricket-field. +Outwood’s was the middle one of these.</p> + +<p>Mike went to the front door, and knocked. +At Wrykyn he had always charged in at the beginning +of term at the boys’ entrance, but this formal +reporting of himself at Sedleigh suited his mood.</p> + +<p>He inquired for Mr. Outwood, and was +shown into a room lined with books. Presently +the door opened, and the house-master appeared.</p> + +<p>There was something pleasant and homely +about Mr. Outwood. In appearance he reminded +Mike of Smee in “Peter Pan.” He had +the same eyebrows and pince-nez and the same motherly +look.</p> + +<p>“Jackson?” he said mildly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I am very glad to see you, +very glad indeed. Perhaps you would like a cup +of tea after your journey. I think you might like +a cup of tea. You come from Crofton, in Shropshire, +I understand, Jackson, near Brindleford? It is +a part of the country which I have always wished to +visit. I daresay you have frequently seen the +Cluniac Priory of St. Ambrose at Brindleford?”</p> + +<p>Mike, who would not have recognised +a Cluniac Priory if you had handed him one on a tray, +said he had not.</p> + +<p>“Dear me! You have missed +an opportunity which I should have been glad to have. +I am preparing a book on Ruined Abbeys and Priories +of England, and it has always been my wish to see +the Cluniac Priory of St. Ambrose. A deeply interesting +relic of the sixteenth century. Bishop Geoffrey, +1133-40——”</p> + +<p>“Shall I go across to the boys’ part, +sir?”</p> + +<p>“What? Yes. Oh, yes. +Quite so. And perhaps you would like a cup of +tea after your journey? No? Quite so. +Quite so. You should make a point of visiting +the remains of the Cluniac Priory in the summer holidays, +Jackson. You will find the matron in her room. +In many respects it is unique. The northern altar +is in a state of really wonderful preservation. +It consists of a solid block of masonry five feet long +and two and a half wide, with chamfered plinth, standing +quite free from the apse wall. It will well repay +a visit. Good-bye for the present, Jackson, good-bye.”</p> + +<p>Mike wandered across to the other +side of the house, his gloom visibly deepened. +All alone in a strange school, where they probably +played hopscotch, with a house-master who offered +one cups of tea after one’s journey and talked +about chamfered plinths and apses. It was a little +hard.</p> + +<p>He strayed about, finding his bearings, +and finally came to a room which he took to be the +equivalent of the senior day-room at a Wrykyn house. +Everywhere else he had found nothing but emptiness. +Evidently he had come by an earlier train than was +usual. But this room was occupied.</p> + +<p>A very long, thin youth, with a solemn +face and immaculate clothes, was leaning against the +mantelpiece. As Mike entered, he fumbled in his +top left waistcoat pocket, produced an eyeglass attached +to a cord, and fixed it in his right eye. With +the help of this aid to vision he inspected Mike in +silence for a while, then, having flicked an invisible +speck of dust from the left sleeve of his coat, he +spoke.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” he said.</p> + +<p>He spoke in a tired voice.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Take a seat,” said the +immaculate one. “If you don’t mind +dirtying your bags, that’s to say. Personally, +I don’t see any prospect of ever sitting down +in this place. It looks to me as if they meant +to use these chairs as mustard-and-cress beds. +A Nursery Garden in the Home. That sort of idea. +My name,” he added pensively, “is Smith. +What’s yours?”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch32"> +CHAPTER XXXII<br/><br/> +PSMITH</a></h3> + +<p>“Jackson,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Are you the Bully, the Pride +of the School, or the Boy who is Led Astray and takes +to Drink in Chapter Sixteen?”</p> + +<p>“The last, for choice,” +said Mike, “but I’ve only just arrived, +so I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“The boy—what will +he become? Are you new here, too, then?”</p> + +<p>“Yes! Why, are you new?”</p> + +<p>“Do I look as if I belonged +here? I’m the latest import. Sit down +on yonder settee, and I will tell you the painful story +of my life. By the way, before I start, there’s +just one thing. If you ever have occasion to +write to me, would you mind sticking a P at the beginning +of my name? P-s-m-i-t-h. See? There +are too many Smiths, and I don’t care for Smythe. +My father’s content to worry along in the old-fashioned +way, but I’ve decided to strike out a fresh line. +I shall found a new dynasty. The resolve came +to me unexpectedly this morning, as I was buying a +simple penn’orth of butterscotch out of the +automatic machine at Paddington. I jotted it down +on the back of an envelope. In conversation you +may address me as Rupert (though I hope you won’t), +or simply Smith, the P not being sounded. Cp. +the name Zbysco, in which the Z is given a similar +miss-in-baulk. See?”</p> + +<p>Mike said he saw. Psmith thanked +him with a certain stately old-world courtesy.</p> + +<p>“Let us start at the beginning,” +he resumed. “My infancy. When I was +but a babe, my eldest sister was bribed with a shilling +an hour by my nurse to keep an eye on me, and see +that I did not raise Cain. At the end of the +first day she struck for one-and six, and got it. +We now pass to my boyhood. At an early age, I +was sent to Eton, everybody predicting a bright career +for me. But,” said Psmith solemnly, fixing +an owl-like gaze on Mike through the eye-glass, “it +was not to be.”</p> + +<p>“No?” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“No. I was superannuated last term.”</p> + +<p>“Bad luck.”</p> + +<p>“For Eton, yes. But what Eton loses, Sedleigh +gains.”</p> + +<p>“But why Sedleigh, of all places?”</p> + +<p>“This is the most painful part +of my narrative. It seems that a certain scug +in the next village to ours happened last year to collar +a Balliol——”</p> + +<p>“Not Barlitt!” exclaimed Mike.</p> + +<p>“That was the man. The +son of the vicar. The vicar told the curate, +who told our curate, who told our vicar, who told my +father, who sent me off here to get a Balliol too. +Do <i>you</i> know Barlitt?”</p> + +<p>“His pater’s vicar of +our village. It was because his son got a Balliol +that I was sent here.”</p> + +<p>“Do you come from Crofton?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve lived at Lower Benford +all my life. We are practically long-lost brothers. +Cheer a little, will you?”</p> + +<p>Mike felt as Robinson Crusoe felt +when he met Friday. Here was a fellow human being +in this desert place. He could almost have embraced +Psmith. The very sound of the name Lower Benford +was heartening. His dislike for his new school +was not diminished, but now he felt that life there +might at least be tolerable.</p> + +<p>“Where were you before you came +here?” asked Psmith. “You have heard +my painful story. Now tell me yours.”</p> + +<p>“Wrykyn. My pater took +me away because I got such a lot of bad reports.”</p> + +<p>“My reports from Eton were simply +scurrilous. There’s a libel action in every +sentence. How do you like this place from what +you’ve seen of it?”</p> + +<p>“Rotten.”</p> + +<p>“I am with you, Comrade Jackson. +You won’t mind my calling you Comrade, will +you? I’ve just become a Socialist. +It’s a great scheme. You ought to be one. +You work for the equal distribution of property, and +start by collaring all you can and sitting on it. +We must stick together. We are companions in +misfortune. Lost lambs. Sheep that have +gone astray. Divided, we fall, together we may +worry through. Have you seen Professor Radium +yet? I should say Mr. Outwood. What do you +think of him?”</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t seem a bad +sort of chap. Bit off his nut. Jawed about +apses and things.”</p> + +<p>“And thereby,” said Psmith, +“hangs a tale. I’ve been making inquiries +of a stout sportsman in a sort of Salvation Army uniform, +whom I met in the grounds—he’s the +school sergeant or something, quite a solid man—and +I hear that Comrade Outwood’s an archaeological +cove. Goes about the country beating up old ruins +and fossils and things. There’s an Archaeological +Society in the school, run by him. It goes out +on half-holidays, prowling about, and is allowed to +break bounds and generally steep itself to the eyebrows +in reckless devilry. And, mark you, laddie, if +you belong to the Archaeological Society you get off +cricket. To get off cricket,” said Psmith, +dusting his right trouser-leg, “was the dream +of my youth and the aspiration of my riper years. +A noble game, but a bit too thick for me. At Eton +I used to have to field out at the nets till the soles +of my boots wore through. I suppose you are a +blood at the game? Play for the school against +Loamshire, and so on.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not going to play here, at any rate,” +said Mike.</p> + +<p>He had made up his mind on this point +in the train. There is a certain fascination +about making the very worst of a bad job. Achilles +knew his business when he sat in his tent. The +determination not to play cricket for Sedleigh as +he could not play for Wrykyn gave Mike a sort of pleasure. +To stand by with folded arms and a sombre frown, as +it were, was one way of treating the situation, and +one not without its meed of comfort.</p> + +<p>Psmith approved the resolve.</p> + +<p>“Stout fellow,” he said. +“’Tis well. You and I, hand in hand, +will search the countryside for ruined abbeys. +We will snare the elusive fossil together. Above +all, we will go out of bounds. We shall thus +improve our minds, and have a jolly good time as well. +I shouldn’t wonder if one mightn’t borrow +a gun from some friendly native, and do a bit of rabbit-shooting +here and there. From what I saw of Comrade Outwood +during our brief interview, I shouldn’t think +he was one of the lynx-eyed contingent. With +tact we ought to be able to slip away from the merry +throng of fossil-chasers, and do a bit on our own +account.”</p> + +<p>“Good idea,” said Mike. +“We will. A chap at Wrykyn, called Wyatt, +used to break out at night and shoot at cats with +an air-pistol.”</p> + +<p>“It would take a lot to make +me do that. I am all against anything that interferes +with my sleep. But rabbits in the daytime is a +scheme. We’ll nose about for a gun at the +earliest opp. Meanwhile we’d better go +up to Comrade Outwood, and get our names shoved down +for the Society.”</p> + +<p>“I vote we get some tea first somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“Then let’s beat up a +study. I suppose they have studies here. +Let’s go and look.”</p> + +<p>They went upstairs. On the first +floor there was a passage with doors on either side. +Psmith opened the first of these.</p> + +<p>“This’ll do us well,” he said.</p> + +<p>It was a biggish room, looking out +over the school grounds. There were a couple +of deal tables, two empty bookcases, and a looking-glass, +hung on a nail.</p> + +<p>“Might have been made for us,” said Psmith +approvingly.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it belongs to some rotter.”</p> + +<p>“Not now.”</p> + +<p>“You aren’t going to collar it!”</p> + +<p>“That,” said Psmith, looking +at himself earnestly in the mirror, and straightening +his tie, “is the exact programme. We must +stake out our claims. This is practical Socialism.”</p> + +<p>“But the real owner’s bound to turn up +some time or other.”</p> + +<p>“His misfortune, not ours. +You can’t expect two master-minds like us to +pig it in that room downstairs. There are moments +when one wants to be alone. It is imperative +that we have a place to retire to after a fatiguing +day. And now, if you want to be really useful, +come and help me fetch up my box from downstairs. +It’s got an Etna and various things in it.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch33"> +CHAPTER XXXIII<br/><br/> +STAKING OUT A CLAIM</a></h3> + +<p>Psmith, in the matter of decorating +a study and preparing tea in it, was rather a critic +than an executant. He was full of ideas, but he +preferred to allow Mike to carry them out. It +was he who suggested that the wooden bar which ran +across the window was unnecessary, but it was Mike +who wrenched it from its place. Similarly, it +was Mike who abstracted the key from the door of the +next study, though the idea was Psmith’s.</p> + +<p>“Privacy,” said Psmith, +as he watched Mike light the Etna, “is what we +chiefly need in this age of publicity. If you +leave a study door unlocked in these strenuous times, +the first thing you know is, somebody comes right +in, sits down, and begins to talk about himself. +I think with a little care we ought to be able to make +this room quite decently comfortable. That putrid +calendar must come down, though. Do you think +you could make a long arm, and haul it off the parent +tin-tack? Thanks. We make progress. +We make progress.”</p> + +<p>“We shall jolly well make it +out of the window,” said Mike, spooning up tea +from a paper bag with a postcard, “if a sort +of young Hackenschmidt turns up and claims the study. +What are you going to do about it?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t let us worry about +it. I have a presentiment that he will be an +insignificant-looking little weed. How are you +getting on with the evening meal?”</p> + +<p>“Just ready. What would +you give to be at Eton now? I’d give something +to be at Wrykyn.”</p> + +<p>“These school reports,” +said Psmith sympathetically, “are the very dickens. +Many a bright young lad has been soured by them. +Hullo. What’s this, I wonder.”</p> + +<p>A heavy body had plunged against the +door, evidently without a suspicion that there would +be any resistance. A rattling at the handle followed, +and a voice outside said, “Dash the door!”</p> + +<p>“Hackenschmidt!” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“The weed,” said Psmith. +“You couldn’t make a long arm, could you, +and turn the key? We had better give this merchant +audience. Remind me later to go on with my remarks +on school reports. I had several bright things +to say on the subject.”</p> + +<p>Mike unlocked the door, and flung +it open. Framed in the entrance was a smallish, +freckled boy, wearing a bowler hat and carrying a bag. +On his face was an expression of mingled wrath and +astonishment.</p> + +<p>Psmith rose courteously from his chair, +and moved forward with slow stateliness to do the +honours.</p> + +<p>“What the dickens,” inquired +the newcomer, “are you doing here?”</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus7"> +<img src="images/jmike7.jpg" alt="“WHAT THE DICKENS ARE YOU DOING HERE?”" /> +</a></p> + +<p>“We were having a little tea,” +said Psmith, “to restore our tissues after our +journey. Come in and join us. We keep open +house, we Psmiths. Let me introduce you to Comrade +Jackson. A stout fellow. Homely in appearance, +perhaps, but one of us. I am Psmith. Your +own name will doubtless come up in the course of general +chit-chat over the tea-cups.”</p> + +<p>“My name’s Spiller, and this is my study.”</p> + +<p>Psmith leaned against the mantelpiece, +put up his eyeglass, and harangued Spiller in a philosophical +vein.</p> + +<p>“Of all sad words of tongue +or pen,” said he, “the saddest are these: +‘It might have been.’ Too late! +That is the bitter cry. If you had torn yourself +from the bosom of the Spiller family by an earlier +train, all might have been well. But no. +Your father held your hand and said huskily, ‘Edwin, +don’t leave us!’ Your mother clung to you +weeping, and said, ‘Edwin, stay!’ Your +sisters——”</p> + +<p>“I want to know what——”</p> + +<p>“Your sisters froze on to your +knees like little octopuses (or octopi), and screamed, +‘Don’t go, Edwin!’ And so,” +said Psmith, deeply affected by his recital, “you +stayed on till the later train; and, on arrival, you +find strange faces in the familiar room, a people that +know not Spiller.” Psmith went to the table, +and cheered himself with a sip of tea. Spiller’s +sad case had moved him greatly.</p> + +<p>The victim of Fate seemed in no way consoled.</p> + +<p>“It’s beastly cheek, that’s what +I call it. Are you new chaps?”</p> + +<p>“The very latest thing,” said Psmith.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s beastly cheek.”</p> + +<p>Mike’s outlook on life was of +the solid, practical order. He went straight +to the root of the matter.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do about it?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>Spiller evaded the question.</p> + +<p>“It’s beastly cheek,” +he repeated. “You can’t go about the +place bagging studies.”</p> + +<p>“But we do,” said Psmith. +“In this life, Comrade Spiller, we must be prepared +for every emergency. We must distinguish between +the unusual and the impossible. It is unusual +for people to go about the place bagging studies, +so you have rashly ordered your life on the assumption +that it is impossible. Error! Ah, Spiller, +Spiller, let this be a lesson to you.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, I tell you what it——”</p> + +<p> +“I was in a motor with a man once. I said to him: ‘What would happen if you +trod on that pedal thing instead of that other pedal thing?’ He said, ‘I +couldn’t. One’s the foot-brake, and the other’s the accelerator.’ ‘But suppose +you did?’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘Now we’ll let her rip.’ So he stamped +on the accelerator. Only it turned out to be the foot-brake after all, and we +stopped dead, and skidded into a ditch. The advice I give to every young man +starting life is: ‘Never confuse the unusual and the impossible.’ Take the +present case. If you had only realised the possibility of somebody some day +collaring your study, you might have thought out dozens of sound schemes for +dealing with the matter. As it is, you are unprepared. The thing comes on you +as a surprise. The cry goes round: ‘Spiller has been taken unawares. He cannot +cope with the situation.’” +</p> + +<p>“Can’t I! I’ll——”</p> + +<p>“What <i>are</i> you going to do about it?” +said Mike.</p> + +<p>“All I know is, I’m going +to have it. It was Simpson’s last term, +and Simpson’s left, and I’m next on the +house list, so, of course, it’s my study.”</p> + +<p>“But what steps,” said +Psmith, “are you going to take? Spiller, +the man of Logic, we know. But what of Spiller, +the Man of Action? How do you intend to set about +it? Force is useless. I was saying to Comrade +Jackson before you came in, that I didn’t mind +betting you were an insignificant-looking little weed. +And you <i>are</i> an insignificant-looking little +weed.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see what Outwood says about it.”</p> + +<p>“Not an unsound scheme. +By no means a scaly project. Comrade Jackson +and myself were about to interview him upon another +point. We may as well all go together.”</p> + +<p>The trio made their way to the Presence, +Spiller pink and determined, Mike sullen, Psmith particularly +debonair. He hummed lightly as he walked, and +now and then pointed out to Spiller objects of interest +by the wayside.</p> + +<p>Mr. Outwood received them with the +motherly warmth which was evidently the leading characteristic +of his normal manner.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Spiller,” he said. +“And Smith, and Jackson. I am glad to see +that you have already made friends.”</p> + +<p>“Spiller’s, sir,” +said Psmith, laying a hand patronisingly on the study-claimer’s +shoulder—a proceeding violently resented +by Spiller—“is a character one cannot +help but respect. His nature expands before one +like some beautiful flower.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Outwood received this eulogy with +rather a startled expression, and gazed at the object +of the tribute in a surprised way.</p> + +<p>“Er—quite so, Smith, +quite so,” he said at last. “I like +to see boys in my house friendly towards one another.”</p> + +<p>“There is no vice in Spiller,” +pursued Psmith earnestly. “His heart is +the heart of a little child.”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir,” burst out +this paragon of all the virtues, “I——”</p> + +<p>“But it was not entirely with +regard to Spiller that I wished to speak to you, sir, +if you were not too busy.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, Smith, not at all. Is there +anything——”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir—” began Spiller.</p> + +<p>“I understand, sir,” said +Psmith, “that there is an Archaeological Society +in the school.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Outwood’s eyes sparkled +behind their pince-nez. It was a disappointment +to him that so few boys seemed to wish to belong to +his chosen band. Cricket and football, games +that left him cold, appeared to be the main interest +in their lives. It was but rarely that he could +induce new boys to join. His colleague, Mr. Downing, +who presided over the School Fire Brigade, never had +any difficulty in finding support. Boys came +readily at his call. Mr. Outwood pondered wistfully +on this at times, not knowing that the Fire Brigade +owed its support to the fact that it provided its +light-hearted members with perfectly unparalleled +opportunities for ragging, while his own band, though +small, were in the main earnest.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Smith.” he said. +“Yes. We have a small Archaeological Society. +I—er—in a measure look after +it. Perhaps you would care to become a member?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir—” said Spiller.</p> + +<p>“One moment, Spiller. Do you want to join, +Smith?”</p> + +<p>“Intensely, sir. Archaeology fascinates +me. A grand pursuit, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly, Smith. I +am very pleased, very pleased indeed. I will +put down your name at once.”</p> + +<p>“And Jackson’s, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Jackson, too!” Mr. Outwood +beamed. “I am delighted. Most delighted. +This is capital. This enthusiasm is most capital.”</p> + +<p>“Spiller, sir,” said Psmith +sadly, “I have been unable to induce to join.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he is one of our oldest members.”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said Psmith, tolerantly, “that +accounts for it.”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir—” said Spiller.</p> + +<p>“One moment, Spiller. We +shall have the first outing of the term on Saturday. +We intend to inspect the Roman Camp at Embury Hill, +two miles from the school.”</p> + +<p>“We shall be there, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Capital!”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir—” said Spiller.</p> + +<p>“One moment, Spiller,” +said Psmith. “There is just one other matter, +if you could spare the time, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Smith. What is that?”</p> + +<p>“Would there be any objection +to Jackson and myself taking Simpson’s old study?”</p> + +<p>“By all means, Smith. A very good idea.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. It would give +us a place where we could work quietly in the evenings.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so. Quite so.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you very much, sir. We will move +our things in.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you very much, sir,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Please, sir,” shouted +Spiller, “aren’t I to have it? I’m +next on the list, sir. I come next after Simpson. +Can’t I have it?”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I have already +promised it to Smith, Spiller. You should have +spoken before.”</p> + +<p>“But, sir——”</p> + +<p>Psmith eyed the speaker pityingly.</p> + +<p>“This tendency to delay, Spiller,” +he said, “is your besetting fault. Correct +it, Edwin. Fight against it.”</p> + +<p>He turned to Mr. Outwood.</p> + +<p>“We should, of course, sir, +always be glad to see Spiller in our study. He +would always find a cheery welcome waiting there for +him. There is no formality between ourselves +and Spiller.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so. An excellent +arrangement, Smith. I like this spirit of comradeship +in my house. Then you will be with us on Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“On Saturday, sir.”</p> + +<p>“All this sort of thing, Spiller,” +said Psmith, as they closed the door, “is very, +very trying for a man of culture. Look us up in +our study one of these afternoons.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch34"> +CHAPTER XXXIV<br/><br/> +GUERRILLA WARFARE</a></h3> + +<p>“There are few pleasures,” +said Psmith, as he resumed his favourite position +against the mantelpiece and surveyed the commandeered +study with the pride of a householder, “keener +to the reflective mind than sitting under one’s +own roof-tree. This place would have been wasted +on Spiller; he would not have appreciated it properly.”</p> + +<p>Mike was finishing his tea. “You’re +a jolly useful chap to have by you in a crisis, Smith,” +he said with approval. “We ought to have +known each other before.”</p> + +<p>“The loss was mine,” said +Psmith courteously. “We will now, with your +permission, face the future for awhile. I suppose +you realise that we are now to a certain extent up +against it. Spiller’s hot Spanish blood +is not going to sit tight and do nothing under a blow +like this.”</p> + +<p>“What can he do? Outwood’s given +us the study.”</p> + +<p>“What would you have done if somebody had bagged +your study?”</p> + +<p>“Made it jolly hot for them!”</p> + +<p>“So will Comrade Spiller. +I take it that he will collect a gang and make an +offensive movement against us directly he can. +To all appearances we are in a fairly tight place. +It all depends on how big Comrade Spiller’s +gang will be. I don’t like rows, but I’m +prepared to take on a reasonable number of bravoes +in defence of the home.”</p> + +<p>Mike intimated that he was with him +on the point. “The difficulty is, though,” +he said, “about when we leave this room. +I mean, we’re all right while we stick here, +but we can’t stay all night.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I was +about to point out when you put it with such admirable +clearness. Here we are in a stronghold, they can +only get at us through the door, and we can lock that.”</p> + +<p>“And jam a chair against it.”</p> + +<p>“<i>And</i>, as you rightly +remark, jam a chair against it. But what of the +nightfall? What of the time when we retire to +our dormitory?”</p> + +<p>“Or dormitories. I say, +if we’re in separate rooms we shall be in the +cart.”</p> + +<p>Psmith eyed Mike with approval. +“He thinks of everything! You’re the +man, Comrade Jackson, to conduct an affair of this +kind—such foresight! such resource! +We must see to this at once; if they put us in different +rooms we’re done—we shall be destroyed +singly in the watches of the night.”</p> + +<p>“We’d better nip down to the matron right +off.”</p> + +<p>“Not the matron—Comrade +Outwood is the man. We are as sons to him; there +is nothing he can deny us. I’m afraid we +are quite spoiling his afternoon by these interruptions, +but we must rout him out once more.”</p> + +<p>As they got up, the door handle rattled +again, and this time there followed a knocking.</p> + +<p>“This must be an emissary of +Comrade Spiller’s,” said Psmith. “Let +us parley with the man.”</p> + +<p>Mike unlocked the door. A light-haired +youth with a cheerful, rather vacant face and a receding +chin strolled into the room, and stood giggling with +his hands in his pockets.</p> + +<p>“I just came up to have a look at you,” +he explained.</p> + +<p>“If you move a little to the +left,” said Psmith, “you will catch the +light and shade effects on Jackson’s face better.”</p> + +<p>The new-comer giggled with renewed +vigour. “Are you the chap with the eyeglass +who jaws all the time?”</p> + +<p>“I <i>do</i> wear an eyeglass,” +said Psmith; “as to the rest of the description——”</p> + +<p>“My name’s Jellicoe.”</p> + +<p>“Mine is Psmith—P-s-m-i-t-h—one +of the Shropshire Psmiths. The object on the +skyline is Comrade Jackson.”</p> + +<p>“Old Spiller,” giggled +Jellicoe, “is cursing you like anything downstairs. +You <i>are</i> chaps! Do you mean to say you simply +bagged his study? He’s making no end of +a row about it.”</p> + +<p>“Spiller’s fiery nature is a byword,” +said Psmith.</p> + +<p>“What’s he going to do?” asked Mike, +in his practical way.</p> + +<p>“He’s going to get the chaps to turn you +out.”</p> + +<p>“As I suspected,” sighed +Psmith, as one mourning over the frailty of human +nature. “About how many horny-handed assistants +should you say that he would be likely to bring? +Will you, for instance, join the glad throng?”</p> + +<p>“Me? No fear! I think Spiller’s +an ass.”</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing like +a common thought for binding people together. <i>I</i> +think Spiller’s an ass.”</p> + +<p>“How many <i>will</i> there be, then?” +asked Mike.</p> + +<p>“He might get about half a dozen, +not more, because most of the chaps don’t see +why they should sweat themselves just because Spiller’s +study has been bagged.”</p> + +<p>“Sturdy common sense,” +said Psmith approvingly, “seems to be the chief +virtue of the Sedleigh character.”</p> + +<p>“We shall be able to tackle +a crowd like that,” said Mike. “The +only thing is we must get into the same dormitory.”</p> + +<p>“This is where Comrade Jellicoe’s +knowledge of the local geography will come in useful. +Do you happen to know of any snug little room, with, +say, about four beds in it? How many dormitories +are there?”</p> + +<p>“Five—there’s +one with three beds in it, only it belongs to three +chaps.”</p> + +<p>“I believe in the equal distribution +of property. We will go to Comrade Outwood and +stake out another claim.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Outwood received them even more +beamingly than before. “Yes, Smith?” +he said.</p> + +<p>“We must apologise for disturbing you, sir——”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, Smith, not at all! +I like the boys in my house to come to me when they +wish for my advice or help.”</p> + +<p>“We were wondering, sir, if +you would have any objection to Jackson, Jellicoe +and myself sharing the dormitory with the three beds +in it. A very warm friendship—” +explained Psmith, patting the gurgling Jellicoe kindly +on the shoulder, “has sprung up between Jackson, +Jellicoe and myself.”</p> + +<p>“You make friends easily, Smith. +I like to see it—I like to see it.”</p> + +<p>“And we can have the room, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly—certainly! Tell the +matron as you go down.”</p> + +<p>“And now,” said Psmith, +as they returned to the study, “we may say that +we are in a fairly winning position. A vote of +thanks to Comrade Jellicoe for his valuable assistance.”</p> + +<p>“You <i>are</i> a chap!” said Jellicoe.</p> + +<p>The handle began to revolve again.</p> + +<p>“That door,” said Psmith, +“is getting a perfect incubus! It cuts into +one’s leisure cruelly.”</p> + +<p>This time it was a small boy. +“They told me to come up and tell you to come +down,” he said.</p> + +<p>Psmith looked at him searchingly through his eyeglass.</p> + +<p>“Who?”</p> + +<p>“The senior day-room chaps.”</p> + +<p>“Spiller?”</p> + +<p>“Spiller and Robinson and Stone, and some other +chaps.”</p> + +<p>“They want us to speak to them?”</p> + +<p>“They told me to come up and tell you to come +down.”</p> + +<p>“Go and give Comrade Spiller +our compliments and say that we can’t come down, +but shall be delighted to see him up here. Things,” +he said, as the messenger departed, “are beginning +to move. Better leave the door open, I think; +it will save trouble. Ah, come in, Comrade Spiller, +what can we do for you?”</p> + +<p>Spiller advanced into the study; the +others waited outside, crowding in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” said Spiller, +“are you going to clear out of here or not?”</p> + +<p>“After Mr. Outwood’s kindly +thought in giving us the room? You suggest a +black and ungrateful action, Comrade Spiller.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll get it hot, if you don’t.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll risk it,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>Jellicoe giggled in the background; +the drama in the atmosphere appealed to him. +His was a simple and appreciative mind.</p> + +<p>“Come on, you chaps,” cried Spiller suddenly.</p> + +<p>There was an inward rush on the enemy’s +part, but Mike had been watching. He grabbed +Spiller by the shoulders and ran him back against +the advancing crowd. For a moment the doorway +was blocked, then the weight and impetus of Mike and +Spiller prevailed, the enemy gave back, and Mike, +stepping into the room again, slammed the door and +locked it.</p> + +<p>“A neat piece of work,” +said Psmith approvingly, adjusting his tie at the +looking-glass. “The preliminaries may now +be considered over, the first shot has been fired. +The dogs of war are now loose.”</p> + +<p>A heavy body crashed against the door.</p> + +<p>“They’ll have it down,” said Jellicoe.</p> + +<p>“We must act, Comrade Jackson! +Might I trouble you just to turn that key quietly, +and the handle, and then to stand by for the next +attack.”</p> + +<p>There was a scrambling of feet in +the passage outside, and then a repetition of the +onslaught on the door. This time, however, the +door, instead of resisting, swung open, and the human +battering-ram staggered through into the study. +Mike, turning after re-locking the door, was just +in time to see Psmith, with a display of energy of +which one would not have believed him capable, grip +the invader scientifically by an arm and a leg.</p> + +<p>Mike jumped to help, but it was needless; +the captive was already on the window-sill. As +Mike arrived, Psmith dropped him on to the flower-bed +below.</p> + +<p>Psmith closed the window gently and +turned to Jellicoe. “Who was our guest?” +he asked, dusting the knees of his trousers where they +had pressed against the wall.</p> + +<p>“Robinson. I say, you <i>are</i> a chap!”</p> + +<p>“Robinson, was it? Well, +we are always glad to see Comrade Robinson, always. +I wonder if anybody else is thinking of calling?”</p> + +<p>Apparently frontal attack had been +abandoned. Whisperings could be heard in the +corridor.</p> + +<p>Somebody hammered on the door.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” called Psmith patiently.</p> + +<p>“You’d better come out, +you know; you’ll only get it hotter if you don’t.”</p> + +<p>“Leave us, Spiller; we would be alone.”</p> + +<p>A bell rang in the distance.</p> + +<p>“Tea,” said Jellicoe; “we shall +have to go now.”</p> + +<p>“They won’t do anything +till after tea, I shouldn’t think,” said +Mike. “There’s no harm in going out.”</p> + +<p>The passage was empty when they opened +the door; the call to food was evidently a thing not +to be treated lightly by the enemy.</p> + +<p>In the dining-room the beleaguered +garrison were the object of general attention. +Everybody turned to look at them as they came in. +It was plain that the study episode had been a topic +of conversation. Spiller’s face was crimson, +and Robinson’s coat-sleeve still bore traces +of garden mould.</p> + +<p>Mike felt rather conscious of the +eyes, but Psmith was in his element. His demeanour +throughout the meal was that of some whimsical monarch +condescending for a freak to revel with his humble +subjects.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of the meal Psmith +scribbled a note and passed it to Mike. It read: +“Directly this is over, nip upstairs as quickly +as you can.”</p> + +<p>Mike followed the advice; they were +first out of the room. When they had been in +the study a few moments, Jellicoe knocked at the door. +“Lucky you two cut away so quick,” he said. +“They were going to try and get you into the +senior day-room and scrag you there.”</p> + +<p>“This,” said Psmith, leaning +against the mantelpiece, “is exciting, but it +can’t go on. We have got for our sins to +be in this place for a whole term, and if we are going +to do the Hunted Fawn business all the time, life +in the true sense of the word will become an impossibility. +My nerves are so delicately attuned that the strain +would simply reduce them to hash. We are not +prepared to carry on a long campaign—the +thing must be settled at once.”</p> + +<p>“Shall we go down to the senior +day-room, and have it out?” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“No, we will play the fixture +on our own ground. I think we may take it as +tolerably certain that Comrade Spiller and his hired +ruffians will try to corner us in the dormitory to-night. +Well, of course, we could fake up some sort of barricade +for the door, but then we should have all the trouble +over again to-morrow and the day after that. +Personally I don’t propose to be chivvied about +indefinitely like this, so I propose that we let them +come into the dormitory, and see what happens. +Is this meeting with me?”</p> + +<p>“I think that’s sound,” +said Mike. “We needn’t drag Jellicoe +into it.”</p> + +<p>“As a matter of fact—if +you don’t mind—” began that +man of peace.</p> + +<p>“Quite right,” said Psmith; +“this is not Comrade Jellicoe’s scene at +all; he has got to spend the term in the senior day-room, +whereas we have our little wooden <i>châlet</i> to +retire to in times of stress. Comrade Jellicoe +must stand out of the game altogether. We shall +be glad of his moral support, but otherwise, <i>ne +pas</i>. And now, as there won’t be anything +doing till bedtime, I think I’ll collar this +table and write home and tell my people that all is +well with their Rupert.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch35"> +CHAPTER XXXV<br/><br/> +UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS</a></h3> + +<p>Jellicoe, that human encyclopaedia, +consulted on the probable movements of the enemy, +deposed that Spiller, retiring at ten, would make +for Dormitory One in the same passage, where Robinson +also had a bed. The rest of the opposing forces +were distributed among other and more distant rooms. +It was probable, therefore, that Dormitory One would +be the rendezvous. As to the time when an attack +might be expected, it was unlikely that it would occur +before half-past eleven. Mr. Outwood went the +round of the dormitories at eleven.</p> + +<p>“And touching,” said Psmith, +“the matter of noise, must this business be +conducted in a subdued and <i>sotto voce</i> manner, +or may we let ourselves go a bit here and there?”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t think old +Outwood’s likely to hear you—he sleeps +miles away on the other side of the house. He +never hears anything. We often rag half the night +and nothing happens.”</p> + +<p>“This appears to be a thoroughly nice, +well-conducted establishment. What would my mother +say if she could see her Rupert in the midst of these +reckless youths!”</p> + +<p>“All the better,” said +Mike; “we don’t want anybody butting in +and stopping the show before it’s half started.”</p> + +<p>“Comrade Jackson’s Berserk +blood is up—I can hear it sizzling. +I quite agree these things are all very disturbing +and painful, but it’s as well to do them thoroughly +when one’s once in for them. Is there nobody +else who might interfere with our gambols?”</p> + +<p>“Barnes might,” said Jellicoe, “only +he won’t.”</p> + +<p>“Who is Barnes?”</p> + +<p>“Head of the house—a +rotter. He’s in a funk of Stone and Robinson; +they rag him; he’ll simply sit tight.”</p> + +<p>“Then I think,” said Psmith +placidly, “we may look forward to a very pleasant +evening. Shall we be moving?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Outwood paid his visit at eleven, +as predicted by Jellicoe, beaming vaguely into the +darkness over a candle, and disappeared again, closing +the door.</p> + +<p>“How about that door?” +said Mike. “Shall we leave it open for them?”</p> + +<p>“Not so, but far otherwise. +If it’s shut we shall hear them at it when they +come. Subject to your approval, Comrade Jackson, +I have evolved the following plan of action. +I always ask myself on these occasions, ‘What +would Napoleon have done?’ I think Napoleon would +have sat in a chair by his washhand-stand, which is +close to the door; he would have posted you by your +washhand-stand, and he would have instructed Comrade +Jellicoe, directly he heard the door-handle turned, +to give his celebrated imitation of a dormitory breathing +heavily in its sleep. He would then——”</p> + +<p>“I tell you what,” said +Mike, “how about tying a string at the top of +the steps?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Napoleon would have done +that, too. Hats off to Comrade Jackson, the man +with the big brain!”</p> + +<p>The floor of the dormitory was below +the level of the door. There were three steps +leading down to it. Psmith lit a candle and they +examined the ground. The leg of a wardrobe and +the leg of Jellicoe’s bed made it possible for +the string to be fastened in a satisfactory manner +across the lower step. Psmith surveyed the result +with approval.</p> + +<p>“Dashed neat!” he said. +“Practically the sunken road which dished the +Cuirassiers at Waterloo. I seem to see Comrade +Spiller coming one of the finest purlers in the world’s +history.”</p> + +<p>“If they’ve got a candle——”</p> + +<p>“They won’t have. +If they have, stand by with your water-jug and douse +it at once; then they’ll charge forward and all +will be well. If they have no candle, fling the +water at a venture—fire into the brown! +Lest we forget, I’ll collar Comrade Jellicoe’s +jug now and keep it handy. A couple of sheets +would also not be amiss—we will enmesh the +enemy!”</p> + +<p>“Right ho!” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“These humane preparations being +concluded,” said Psmith, “we will retire +to our posts and wait. Comrade Jellicoe, don’t +forget to breathe like an asthmatic sheep when you +hear the door opened; they may wait at the top of +the steps, listening.”</p> + +<p>“You <i>are</i> a chap!” said Jellicoe.</p> + +<p>Waiting in the dark for something +to happen is always a trying experience, especially +if, as on this occasion, silence is essential. +Mike found his thoughts wandering back to the vigil +he had kept with Mr. Wain at Wrykyn on the night when +Wyatt had come in through the window and found authority +sitting on his bed, waiting for him. Mike was +tired after his journey, and he had begun to doze when +he was jerked back to wakefulness by the stealthy +turning of the door-handle; the faintest rustle from +Psmith’s direction followed, and a slight giggle, +succeeded by a series of deep breaths, showed that +Jellicoe, too, had heard the noise.</p> + +<p>There was a creaking sound.</p> + +<p>It was pitch-dark in the dormitory, +but Mike could follow the invaders’ movements +as clearly as if it had been broad daylight. They +had opened the door and were listening. Jellicoe’s +breathing grew more asthmatic; he was flinging himself +into his part with the whole-heartedness of the true +artist.</p> + +<p>The creak was followed by a sound +of whispering, then another creak. The enemy +had advanced to the top step.... Another creak.... +The vanguard had reached the second step.... +In another moment——</p> + +<p>CRASH!</p> + +<p>And at that point the proceedings may be said to have +formally opened.</p> + +<p>A struggling mass bumped against Mike’s +shins as he rose from his chair; he emptied his jug +on to this mass, and a yell of anguish showed that +the contents had got to the right address.</p> + +<p>Then a hand grabbed his ankle and +he went down, a million sparks dancing before his +eyes as a fist, flying out at a venture, caught him +on the nose.</p> + +<p>Mike had not been well-disposed towards +the invaders before, but now he ran amok, hitting +out right and left at random. His right missed, +but his left went home hard on some portion of somebody’s +anatomy. A kick freed his ankle and he staggered +to his feet. At the same moment a sudden increase +in the general volume of noise spoke eloquently of +good work that was being put in by Psmith.</p> + +<p>Even at that crisis, Mike could not +help feeling that if a row of this calibre did not +draw Mr. Outwood from his bed, he must be an unusual +kind of house-master.</p> + +<p>He plunged forward again with outstretched +arms, and stumbled and fell over one of the on-the-floor +section of the opposing force. They seized each +other earnestly and rolled across the room till Mike, +contriving to secure his adversary’s head, bumped +it on the floor with such abandon that, with a muffled +yell, the other let go, and for the second time he +rose. As he did so he was conscious of a curious +thudding sound that made itself heard through the other +assorted noises of the battle.</p> + +<p>All this time the fight had gone on +in the blackest darkness, but now a light shone on +the proceedings. Interested occupants of other +dormitories, roused from their slumbers, had come to +observe the sport. They were crowding in the +doorway with a candle.</p> + +<p>By the light of this Mike got a swift +view of the theatre of war. The enemy appeared +to number five. The warrior whose head Mike had +bumped on the floor was Robinson, who was sitting +up feeling his skull in a gingerly fashion. To +Mike’s right, almost touching him, was Stone. +In the direction of the door, Psmith, wielding in +his right hand the cord of a dressing-gown, was engaging +the remaining three with a patient smile. They +were clad in pyjamas, and appeared to be feeling the +dressing-gown cord acutely.</p> + +<p>The sudden light dazed both sides +momentarily. The defence was the first to recover, +Mike, with a swing, upsetting Stone, and Psmith, having +seized and emptied Jellicoe’s jug over Spiller, +getting to work again with the cord in a manner that +roused the utmost enthusiasm of the spectators.</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus8"> +<img src="images/jmike8.jpg" alt="PSMITH SEIZED AND EMPTIED JELLICOE’S JUG OVER SPILLER" /> +</a></p> + +<p>Agility seemed to be the leading feature +of Psmith’s tactics. He was everywhere—on +Mike’s bed, on his own, on Jellicoe’s (drawing +a passionate complaint from that non-combatant, on +whose face he inadvertently trod), on the floor—he +ranged the room, sowing destruction.</p> + +<p>The enemy were disheartened; they +had started with the idea that this was to be a surprise +attack, and it was disconcerting to find the garrison +armed at all points. Gradually they edged to the +door, and a final rush sent them through.</p> + +<p>“Hold the door for a second,” +cried Psmith, and vanished. Mike was alone in +the doorway.</p> + +<p>It was a situation which exactly suited +his frame of mind; he stood alone in direct opposition +to the community into which Fate had pitchforked him +so abruptly. He liked the feeling; for the first +time since his father had given him his views upon +school reports that morning in the Easter holidays, +he felt satisfied with life. He hoped, outnumbered +as he was, that the enemy would come on again and not +give the thing up in disgust; he wanted more.</p> + +<p>On an occasion like this there is +rarely anything approaching concerted action on the +part of the aggressors. When the attack came, +it was not a combined attack; Stone, who was nearest +to the door, made a sudden dash forward, and Mike +hit him under the chin.</p> + +<p>Stone drew back, and there was another +interval for rest and reflection.</p> + +<p>It was interrupted by the reappearance +of Psmith, who strolled back along the passage swinging +his dressing-gown cord as if it were some clouded +cane.</p> + +<p>“Sorry to keep you waiting, +Comrade Jackson,” he said politely. “Duty +called me elsewhere. With the kindly aid of a +guide who knows the lie of the land, I have been making +a short tour of the dormitories. I have poured +divers jugfuls of water over Comrade Spiller’s +bed, Comrade Robinson’s bed, Comrade Stone’s—Spiller, +Spiller, these are harsh words; where you pick them +up I can’t think—not from me. +Well, well, I suppose there must be an end to the +pleasantest of functions. Good-night, good-night.”</p> + +<p>The door closed behind Mike and himself. +For ten minutes shufflings and whisperings went on +in the corridor, but nobody touched the handle.</p> + +<p>Then there was a sound of retreating +footsteps, and silence reigned.</p> + +<p>On the following morning there was +a notice on the house-board. It ran:</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus13"> +<img src="images/jmike13.png" alt="INDOOR GAMES: Dormitory-raiders are informed that in future neither +Mr. Psmith nor Mr. Jackson will be at home to visitors. +This nuisance must now cease. R. PSMITH. M. JACKSON." /> +</a></p> + + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch36"> +CHAPTER XXXVI<br/><br/> +ADAIR</a></h3> + +<p>On the same morning Mike met Adair for the first time.</p> + +<p>He was going across to school with +Psmith and Jellicoe, when a group of three came out +of the gate of the house next door.</p> + +<p>“That’s Adair,” said Jellicoe, “in +the middle.”</p> + +<p>His voice had assumed a tone almost of awe.</p> + +<p>“Who’s Adair?” asked Mike.</p> + +<p>“Captain of cricket, and lots of other things.”</p> + +<p>Mike could only see the celebrity’s +back. He had broad shoulders and wiry, light +hair, almost white. He walked well, as if he were +used to running. Altogether a fit-looking sort +of man. Even Mike’s jaundiced eye saw that.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Adair deserved +more than a casual glance. He was that rare type, +the natural leader. Many boys and men, if accident, +or the passage of time, places them in a position +where they are expected to lead, can handle the job +without disaster; but that is a very different thing +from being a born leader. Adair was of the sort +that comes to the top by sheer force of character +and determination. He was not naturally clever +at work, but he had gone at it with a dogged resolution +which had carried him up the school, and landed him +high in the Sixth. As a cricketer he was almost +entirely self-taught. Nature had given him a +good eye, and left the thing at that. Adair’s +doggedness had triumphed over her failure to do her +work thoroughly. At the cost of more trouble +than most people give to their life-work he had made +himself into a bowler. He read the authorities, +and watched first-class players, and thought the thing +out on his own account, and he divided the art of +bowling into three sections. First, and most +important—pitch. Second on the list—break. +Third—pace. He set himself to acquire +pitch. He acquired it. Bowling at his own +pace and without any attempt at break, he could now +drop the ball on an envelope seven times out of ten.</p> + +<p>Break was a more uncertain quantity. +Sometimes he could get it at the expense of pitch, +sometimes at the expense of pace. Some days he +could get all three, and then he was an uncommonly +bad man to face on anything but a plumb wicket.</p> + +<p>Running he had acquired in a similar +manner. He had nothing approaching style, but +he had twice won the mile and half-mile at the Sports +off elegant runners, who knew all about stride and +the correct timing of the sprints and all the rest +of it.</p> + +<p>Briefly, he was a worker. He had heart.</p> + +<p>A boy of Adair’s type is always +a force in a school. In a big public school of +six or seven hundred, his influence is felt less; but +in a small school like Sedleigh he is like a tidal +wave, sweeping all before him. There were two +hundred boys at Sedleigh, and there was not one of +them in all probability who had not, directly or indirectly, +been influenced by Adair. As a small boy his sphere +was not large, but the effects of his work began to +be apparent even then. It is human nature to +want to get something which somebody else obviously +values very much; and when it was observed by members +of his form that Adair was going to great trouble +and inconvenience to secure a place in the form eleven +or fifteen, they naturally began to think, too, that +it was worth being in those teams. The consequence +was that his form always played hard. This made +other forms play hard. And the net result was +that, when Adair succeeded to the captaincy of football +and cricket in the same year, Sedleigh, as Mr. Downing, +Adair’s house-master and the nearest approach +to a cricket-master that Sedleigh possessed, had a +fondness for saying, was a keen school. As a +whole, it both worked and played with energy.</p> + +<p>All it wanted now was opportunity.</p> + +<p>This Adair was determined to give +it. He had that passionate fondness for his school +which every boy is popularly supposed to have, but +which really is implanted in about one in every thousand. +The average public-school boy <i>likes</i> his school. +He hopes it will lick Bedford at footer and Malvern +at cricket, but he rather bets it won’t. +He is sorry to leave, and he likes going back at the +end of the holidays, but as for any passionate, deep-seated +love of the place, he would think it rather bad form +than otherwise. If anybody came up to him, slapped +him on the back, and cried, “Come along, Jenkins, +my boy! Play up for the old school, Jenkins! +The dear old school! The old place you love so!” +he would feel seriously ill.</p> + +<p>Adair was the exception.</p> + +<p>To Adair, Sedleigh was almost a religion. +Both his parents were dead; his guardian, with whom +he spent the holidays, was a man with neuralgia at +one end of him and gout at the other; and the only +really pleasant times Adair had had, as far back as +he could remember, he owed to Sedleigh. The place +had grown on him, absorbed him. Where Mike, violently +transplanted from Wrykyn, saw only a wretched little +hole not to be mentioned in the same breath with Wrykyn, +Adair, dreaming of the future, saw a colossal establishment, +a public school among public schools, a lump of human +radium, shooting out Blues and Balliol Scholars year +after year without ceasing.</p> + +<p>It would not be so till long after +he was gone and forgotten, but he did not mind that. +His devotion to Sedleigh was purely unselfish. +He did not want fame. All he worked for was that +the school should grow and grow, keener and better +at games and more prosperous year by year, till it +should take its rank among <i>the</i> schools, and +to be an Old Sedleighan should be a badge passing +its owner everywhere.</p> + +<p>“He’s captain of cricket +and footer,” said Jellicoe impressively. +“He’s in the shooting eight. He’s +won the mile and half two years running. He would +have boxed at Aldershot last term, only he sprained +his wrist. And he plays fives jolly well!”</p> + +<p>“Sort of little tin god,” +said Mike, taking a violent dislike to Adair from +that moment.</p> + +<p>Mike’s actual acquaintance with +this all-round man dated from the dinner-hour that +day. Mike was walking to the house with Psmith. +Psmith was a little ruffled on account of a slight +passage-of-arms he had had with his form-master during +morning school.</p> + +<p>“‘There’s a P before +the Smith,’ I said to him. ‘Ah, P. +Smith, I see,’ replied the goat. ‘Not +Peasmith,’ I replied, exercising wonderful self-restraint, +‘just Psmith.’ It took me ten minutes +to drive the thing into the man’s head; and +when I <i>had</i> driven it in, he sent me out of +the room for looking at him through my eye-glass. +Comrade Jackson, I fear me we have fallen among bad +men. I suspect that we are going to be much persecuted +by scoundrels.”</p> + +<p>“Both you chaps play cricket, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>They turned. It was Adair. +Seeing him face to face, Mike was aware of a pair +of very bright blue eyes and a square jaw. In +any other place and mood he would have liked Adair +at sight. His prejudice, however, against all +things Sedleighan was too much for him. “I +don’t,” he said shortly.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you <i>ever</i> played?”</p> + +<p>“My little sister and I sometimes play with +a soft ball at home.”</p> + +<p>Adair looked sharply at him. +A temper was evidently one of his numerous qualities.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” he said. “Well, +perhaps you wouldn’t mind turning out this afternoon +and seeing what you can do with a hard ball—if +you can manage without your little sister.”</p> + +<p>“I should think the form at +this place would be about on a level with hers. +But I don’t happen to be playing cricket, as +I think I told you.”</p> + +<p>Adair’s jaw grew squarer than +ever. Mike was wearing a gloomy scowl.</p> + +<p>Psmith joined suavely in the dialogue.</p> + +<p>“My dear old comrades,” +he said, “don’t let us brawl over this +matter. This is a time for the honeyed word, +the kindly eye, and the pleasant smile. Let me +explain to Comrade Adair. Speaking for Comrade +Jackson and myself, we should both be delighted to +join in the mimic warfare of our National Game, as +you suggest, only the fact is, we happen to be the +Young Archaeologists. We gave in our names last +night. When you are being carried back to the +pavilion after your century against Loamshire—do +you play Loamshire?—we shall be grubbing +in the hard ground for ruined abbeys. The old +choice between Pleasure and Duty, Comrade Adair. +A Boy’s Cross-Roads.”</p> + +<p>“Then you won’t play?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Archaeology,” said Psmith, +with a deprecatory wave of the hand, “will brook +no divided allegiance from her devotees.”</p> + +<p>Adair turned, and walked on.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had he gone, when another +voice hailed them with precisely the same question.</p> + +<p>“Both you fellows are going to play cricket, +eh?”</p> + +<p>It was a master. A short, wiry +little man with a sharp nose and a general resemblance, +both in manner and appearance, to an excitable bullfinch.</p> + +<p>“I saw Adair speaking to you. +I suppose you will both play. I like every new +boy to begin at once. The more new blood we have, +the better. We want keenness here. We are, +above all, a keen school. I want every boy to +be keen.”</p> + +<p>“We are, sir,” said Psmith, with fervour.</p> + +<p>“Excellent.”</p> + +<p>“On archaeology.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing—for it was +no less a celebrity—started, as one who +perceives a loathly caterpillar in his salad.</p> + +<p>“Archaeology!”</p> + +<p>“We gave in our names to Mr. +Outwood last night, sir. Archaeology is a passion +with us, sir. When we heard that there was a society +here, we went singing about the house.”</p> + +<p>“I call it an unnatural pursuit +for boys,” said Mr. Downing vehemently. +“I don’t like it. I tell you I don’t +like it. It is not for me to interfere with one +of my colleagues on the staff, but I tell you frankly +that in my opinion it is an abominable waste of time +for a boy. It gets him into idle, loafing habits.”</p> + +<p>“I never loaf, sir,” said Psmith.</p> + +<p>“I was not alluding to you in +particular. I was referring to the principle +of the thing. A boy ought to be playing cricket +with other boys, not wandering at large about the +country, probably smoking and going into low public-houses.”</p> + +<p>“A very wild lot, sir, I fear, +the Archaeological Society here,” sighed Psmith, +shaking his head.</p> + +<p>“If you choose to waste your +time, I suppose I can’t hinder you. But +in my opinion it is foolery, nothing else.”</p> + +<p>He stumped off.</p> + +<p>“Now <i>he’s</i> cross,” +said Psmith, looking after him. “I’m +afraid we’re getting ourselves disliked here.”</p> + +<p>“Good job, too.”</p> + +<p>“At any rate, Comrade Outwood +loves us. Let’s go on and see what sort +of a lunch that large-hearted fossil-fancier is going +to give us.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch37"> +CHAPTER XXXVII<br/><br/> +MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION</a></h3> + +<p>There was more than one moment during +the first fortnight of term when Mike found himself +regretting the attitude he had imposed upon himself +with regard to Sedleighan cricket. He began to +realise the eternal truth of the proverb about half +a loaf and no bread. In the first flush of his +resentment against his new surroundings he had refused +to play cricket. And now he positively ached +for a game. Any sort of a game. An innings +for a Kindergarten <i>v.</i> the Second Eleven of a +Home of Rest for Centenarians would have soothed him. +There were times, when the sun shone, and he caught +sight of white flannels on a green ground, and heard +the “plonk” of bat striking ball, when +he felt like rushing to Adair and shouting, “I +<i>will</i> be good. I was in the Wrykyn team +three years, and had an average of over fifty the last +two seasons. Lead me to the nearest net, and let +me feel a bat in my hands again.”</p> + +<p>But every time he shrank from such +a climb down. It couldn’t be done.</p> + +<p>What made it worse was that he saw, +after watching behind the nets once or twice, that +Sedleigh cricket was not the childish burlesque of +the game which he had been rash enough to assume that +it must be. Numbers do not make good cricket. +They only make the presence of good cricketers more +likely, by the law of averages.</p> + +<p>Mike soon saw that cricket was by +no means an unknown art at Sedleigh. Adair, to +begin with, was a very good bowler indeed. He +was not a Burgess, but Burgess was the only Wrykyn +bowler whom, in his three years’ experience +of the school, Mike would have placed above him. +He was a long way better than Neville-Smith, and Wyatt, +and Milton, and the others who had taken wickets for +Wrykyn.</p> + +<p>The batting was not so good, but there +were some quite capable men. Barnes, the head +of Outwood’s, he who preferred not to interfere +with Stone and Robinson, was a mild, rather timid-looking +youth—not unlike what Mr. Outwood must +have been as a boy—but he knew how to keep +balls out of his wicket. He was a good bat of +the old plodding type.</p> + +<p>Stone and Robinson themselves, that +swash-buckling pair, who now treated Mike and Psmith +with cold but consistent politeness, were both fair +batsmen, and Stone was a good slow bowler.</p> + +<p>There were other exponents of the +game, mostly in Downing’s house.</p> + +<p>Altogether, quite worthy colleagues +even for a man who had been a star at Wrykyn.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>One solitary overture Mike made during +that first fortnight. He did not repeat the experiment. +It was on a Thursday afternoon, after school. +The day was warm, but freshened by an almost imperceptible +breeze. The air was full of the scent of the cut +grass which lay in little heaps behind the nets. +This is the real cricket scent, which calls to one +like the very voice of the game.</p> + +<p>Mike, as he sat there watching, could +stand it no longer.</p> + +<p>He went up to Adair.</p> + +<p>“May I have an innings at this +net?” he asked. He was embarrassed and +nervous, and was trying not to show it. The natural +result was that his manner was offensively abrupt.</p> + +<p>Adair was taking off his pads after +his innings. He looked up. “This net,” +it may be observed, was the first eleven net.</p> + +<p>“What?” he said.</p> + +<p>Mike repeated his request. More +abruptly this time, from increased embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“This is the first eleven net,” +said Adair coldly. “Go in after Lodge over +there.”</p> + +<p>“Over there” was the end +net, where frenzied novices were bowling on a corrugated +pitch to a red-haired youth with enormous feet, who +looked as if he were taking his first lesson at the +game.</p> + +<p>Mike walked away without a word.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Archaeological Society expeditions, +even though they carried with them the privilege of +listening to Psmith’s views on life, proved but +a poor substitute for cricket. Psmith, who had +no counter-attraction shouting to him that he ought +to be elsewhere, seemed to enjoy them hugely, but +Mike almost cried sometimes from boredom. It was +not always possible to slip away from the throng, +for Mr. Outwood evidently looked upon them as among +the very faithful, and kept them by his aide.</p> + +<p>Mike on these occasions was silent +and jumpy, his brow “sicklied o’er with +the pale cast of care.” But Psmith followed +his leader with the pleased and indulgent air of a +father whose infant son is showing him round the garden. +Psmith’s attitude towards archaeological research +struck a new note in the history of that neglected +science. He was amiable, but patronising. +He patronised fossils, and he patronised ruins. +If he had been confronted with the Great Pyramid, he +would have patronised that.</p> + +<p>He seemed to be consumed by a thirst for knowledge.</p> + +<p>That this was not altogether a genuine +thirst was proved on the third expedition. Mr. +Outwood and his band were pecking away at the site +of an old Roman camp. Psmith approached Mike.</p> + +<p>“Having inspired confidence,” +he said, “by the docility of our demeanour, +let us slip away, and brood apart for awhile. +Roman camps, to be absolutely accurate, give me the +pip. And I never want to see another putrid fossil +in my life. Let us find some shady nook where +a man may lie on his back for a bit.”</p> + +<p>Mike, over whom the proceedings connected +with the Roman camp had long since begun to shed a +blue depression, offered no opposition, and they strolled +away down the hill.</p> + +<p>Looking back, they saw that the archaeologists +were still hard at it. Their departure had passed +unnoticed.</p> + +<p>“A fatiguing pursuit, this grubbing +for mementoes of the past,” said Psmith. +“And, above all, dashed bad for the knees of +the trousers. Mine are like some furrowed field. +It’s a great grief to a man of refinement, I +can tell you, Comrade Jackson. Ah, this looks +a likely spot.”</p> + +<p>They had passed through a gate into +the field beyond. At the further end there was +a brook, shaded by trees and running with a pleasant +sound over pebbles.</p> + +<p>“Thus far,” said Psmith, +hitching up the knees of his trousers, and sitting +down, “and no farther. We will rest here +awhile, and listen to the music of the brook. +In fact, unless you have anything important to say, +I rather think I’ll go to sleep. In this +busy life of ours these naps by the wayside are invaluable. +Call me in about an hour.” And Psmith, +heaving the comfortable sigh of the worker who by toil +has earned rest, lay down, with his head against a +mossy tree-stump, and closed his eyes.</p> + +<p>Mike sat on for a few minutes, listening +to the water and making centuries in his mind, and +then, finding this a little dull, he got up, jumped +the brook, and began to explore the wood on the other +side.</p> + +<p>He had not gone many yards when a +dog emerged suddenly from the undergrowth, and began +to bark vigorously at him.</p> + +<p>Mike liked dogs, and, on acquaintance, +they always liked him. But when you meet a dog +in some one else’s wood, it is as well not to +stop in order that you may get to understand each +other. Mike began to thread his way back through +the trees.</p> + +<p>He was too late.</p> + +<p>“Stop! What the dickens +are you doing here?” shouted a voice behind +him.</p> + +<p>In the same situation a few years +before, Mike would have carried on, and trusted to +speed to save him. But now there seemed a lack +of dignity in the action. He came back to where +the man was standing.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry if I’m +trespassing,” he said. “I was just +having a look round.”</p> + +<p>“The dickens you—Why, you’re +Jackson!”</p> + +<p>Mike looked at him. He was a +short, broad young man with a fair moustache. +Mike knew that he had seen him before somewhere, but +he could not place him.</p> + +<p>“I played against you, for the +Free Foresters last summer. In passing, you seem +to be a bit of a free forester yourself, dancing in +among my nesting pheasants.”</p> + +<p>“I’m frightfully sorry.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right. Where do you spring +from?”</p> + +<p>“Of course—I remember +you now. You’re Prendergast. You made +fifty-eight not out.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks. I was afraid the +only thing you would remember about me was that you +took a century mostly off my bowling.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to have had me second +ball, only cover dropped it.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t rake up forgotten +tragedies. How is it you’re not at Wrykyn? +What are you doing down here?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve left Wrykyn.”</p> + +<p>Prendergast suddenly changed the conversation. +When a fellow tells you that he has left school unexpectedly, +it is not always tactful to inquire the reason. +He began to talk about himself.</p> + +<p>“I hang out down here. +I do a little farming and a good deal of pottering +about.”</p> + +<p>“Get any cricket?” asked +Mike, turning to the subject next his heart.</p> + +<p>“Only village. Very keen, +but no great shakes. By the way, how are you +off for cricket now? Have you ever got a spare +afternoon?”</p> + +<p>Mike’s heart leaped.</p> + +<p>“Any Wednesday or Saturday. Look here, +I’ll tell you how it is.”</p> + +<p>And he told how matters stood with him.</p> + +<p>“So, you see,” he concluded, +“I’m supposed to be hunting for ruins and +things”—Mike’s ideas on the +subject of archaeology were vague—“but +I could always slip away. We all start out together, +but I could nip back, get on to my bike—I’ve +got it down here—and meet you anywhere +you liked. By Jove, I’m simply dying for +a game. I can hardly keep my hands off a bat.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you all you +want. What you’d better do is to ride straight +to Lower Borlock—that’s the name of +the place—and I’ll meet you on the +ground. Any one will tell you where Lower Borlock +is. It’s just off the London road. +There’s a sign-post where you turn off. +Can you come next Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“Rather. I suppose you +can fix me up with a bat and pads? I don’t +want to bring mine.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll lend you everything. +I say, you know, we can’t give you a Wrykyn +wicket. The Lower Borlock pitch isn’t a +shirt-front.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll play on a rockery, if you want me +to,” said Mike.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“You’re going to what?” +asked Psmith, sleepily, on being awakened and told +the news.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to play cricket, +for a village near here. I say, don’t tell +a soul, will you? I don’t want it to get +about, or I may get lugged in to play for the school.”</p> + +<p>“My lips are sealed. I +think I’ll come and watch you. Cricket I +dislike, but watching cricket is one of the finest +of Britain’s manly sports. I’ll borrow +Jellicoe’s bicycle.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>That Saturday, Lower Borlock smote +the men of Chidford hip and thigh. Their victory +was due to a hurricane innings of seventy-five by a +new-comer to the team, M. Jackson.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch38"> +CHAPTER XXXVIII<br/><br/> +THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING</a></h3> + +<p>Cricket is the great safety-valve. +If you like the game, and are in a position to play +it at least twice a week, life can never be entirely +grey. As time went on, and his average for Lower +Borlock reached the fifties and stayed there, Mike +began, though he would not have admitted it, to enjoy +himself. It was not Wrykyn, but it was a very +decent substitute.</p> + +<p>The only really considerable element +making for discomfort now was Mr. Downing. By +bad luck it was in his form that Mike had been placed +on arrival; and Mr. Downing, never an easy form-master +to get on with, proved more than usually difficult +in his dealings with Mike.</p> + +<p>They had taken a dislike to each other +at their first meeting; and it grew with further acquaintance. +To Mike, Mr. Downing was all that a master ought not +to be, fussy, pompous, and openly influenced in his +official dealings with his form by his own private +likes and dislikes. To Mr. Downing, Mike was +simply an unamiable loafer, who did nothing for the +school and apparently had none of the instincts which +should be implanted in the healthy boy. Mr. Downing +was rather strong on the healthy boy.</p> + +<p>The two lived in a state of simmering +hostility, punctuated at intervals by crises, which +usually resulted in Lower Borlock having to play some +unskilled labourer in place of their star batsman, +employed doing “over-time.”</p> + +<p>One of the most acute of these crises, +and the most important, in that it was the direct +cause of Mike’s appearance in Sedleigh cricket, +had to do with the third weekly meeting of the School +Fire Brigade.</p> + +<p>It may be remembered that this well-supported +institution was under Mr. Downing’s special +care. It was, indeed, his pet hobby and the apple +of his eye.</p> + +<p>Just as you had to join the Archaeological +Society to secure the esteem of Mr. Outwood, so to +become a member of the Fire Brigade was a safe passport +to the regard of Mr. Downing. To show a keenness +for cricket was good, but to join the Fire Brigade +was best of all. The Brigade was carefully organised. +At its head was Mr. Downing, a sort of high priest; +under him was a captain, and under the captain a vice-captain. +These two officials were those sportive allies, Stone +and Robinson, of Outwood’s house, who, having +perceived at a very early date the gorgeous opportunities +for ragging which the Brigade offered to its members, +had joined young and worked their way up.</p> + +<p>Under them were the rank and file, +about thirty in all, of whom perhaps seven were earnest +workers, who looked on the Brigade in the right, or +Downing, spirit. The rest were entirely frivolous.</p> + +<p>The weekly meetings were always full +of life and excitement.</p> + +<p>At this point it is as well to introduce +Sammy to the reader.</p> + +<p>Sammy, short for Sampson, was a young +bull-terrier belonging to Mr. Downing. If it +is possible for a man to have two apples of his eye, +Sammy was the other. He was a large, light-hearted +dog with a white coat, an engaging expression, the +tongue of an ant-eater, and a manner which was a happy +blend of hurricane and circular saw. He had long +legs, a tenor voice, and was apparently made of india-rubber.</p> + +<p>Sammy was a great favourite in the +school, and a particular friend of Mike’s, the +Wrykynian being always a firm ally of every dog he +met after two minutes’ acquaintance.</p> + +<p>In passing, Jellicoe owned a clock-work +rat, much in request during French lessons.</p> + +<p>We will now proceed to the painful details.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The meetings of the Fire Brigade were +held after school in Mr. Downing’s form-room. +The proceedings always began in the same way, by the +reading of the minutes of the last meeting. After +that the entertainment varied according to whether +the members happened to be fertile or not in ideas +for the disturbing of the peace.</p> + +<p>To-day they were in very fair form.</p> + +<p>As soon as Mr. Downing had closed +the minute-book, Wilson, of the School House, held +up his hand.</p> + +<p>“Well, Wilson?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, couldn’t we have a uniform +for the Brigade?”</p> + +<p>“A uniform?” Mr. Downing pondered</p> + +<p>“Red, with green stripes, sir,”</p> + +<p>Red, with a thin green stripe, was the Sedleigh colour.</p> + +<p>“Shall I put it to the vote, sir?” asked +Stone.</p> + +<p>“One moment, Stone.”</p> + +<p>“Those in favour of the motion +move to the left, those against it to the right.”</p> + +<p>A scuffling of feet, a slamming of +desk-lids and an upset blackboard, and the meeting +had divided.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing rapped irritably on his desk.</p> + +<p>“Sit down!” he said, “sit +down! I won’t have this noise and disturbance. +Stone, sit down—Wilson, get back to your +place.”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, the motion is carried by twenty-five +votes to six.”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, may I go and get measured this +evening?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir——”</p> + +<p>“Si-<i>lence</i>! The idea +of a uniform is, of course, out of the question.”</p> + +<p>“Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!”</p> + +<p>“Be <i>quiet!</i> Entirely out +of the question. We cannot plunge into needless +expense. Stone, listen to me. I cannot have +this noise and disturbance! Another time when +a point arises it must be settled by a show of hands. +Well, Wilson?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, may we have helmets?”</p> + +<p>“Very useful as a protection +against falling timbers, sir,” said Robinson.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think my people +would be pleased, sir, if they knew I was going out +to fires without a helmet,” said Stone.</p> + +<p>The whole strength of the company: +“Please, sir, may we have helmets?”</p> + +<p>“Those in favour—” began Stone.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing banged on his desk. +“Silence! Silence!! Silence!!! +Helmets are, of course, perfectly preposterous.”</p> + +<p>“Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!”</p> + +<p>“But, sir, the danger!”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, the falling timbers!”</p> + +<p>The Fire Brigade had been in action +once and once only in the memory of man, and that +time it was a haystack which had burnt itself out +just as the rescuers had succeeded in fastening the +hose to the hydrant.</p> + +<p>“Silence!”</p> + +<p>“Then, please, sir, couldn’t +we have an honour cap? It wouldn’t be expensive, +and it would be just as good as a helmet for all the +timbers that are likely to fall on our heads.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing smiled a wry smile.</p> + +<p>“Our Wilson is facetious,” he remarked +frostily.</p> + +<p>“Sir, no, sir! I wasn’t +facetious! Or couldn’t we have footer-tops, +like the first fifteen have? They——”</p> + +<p>“Wilson, leave the room!”</p> + +<p>“Sir, <i>please</i>, sir!”</p> + +<p>“This moment, Wilson. And,” +as he reached the door, “do me one hundred lines.”</p> + +<p>A pained “OO-oo-oo, sir-r-r,” was cut +off by the closing door.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing proceeded to improve the +occasion. “I deplore this growing spirit +of flippancy,” he said. “I tell you +I deplore it! It is not right! If this Fire +Brigade is to be of solid use, there must be less +of this flippancy. We must have keenness. +I want you boys above all to be keen. I—What +is that noise?”</p> + +<p>From the other side of the door proceeded +a sound like water gurgling from a bottle, mingled +with cries half-suppressed, as if somebody were being +prevented from uttering them by a hand laid over his +mouth. The sufferer appeared to have a high voice.</p> + +<p>There was a tap at the door and Mike +walked in. He was not alone. Those near +enough to see, saw that he was accompanied by Jellicoe’s +clock-work rat, which moved rapidly over the floor +in the direction of the opposite wall.</p> + +<p>“May I fetch a book from my desk, sir?” +asked Mike.</p> + +<p>“Very well—be quick, Jackson; we +are busy.”</p> + +<p>Being interrupted in one of his addresses +to the Brigade irritated Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>The muffled cries grew more distinct.</p> + +<p>“What—is—that—noise?” +shrilled Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>“Noise, sir?” asked Mike, puzzled.</p> + +<p>“I think it’s something +outside the window, sir,” said Stone helpfully.</p> + +<p>“A bird, I think, sir,” said Robinson.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be absurd!” +snapped Mr. Downing. “It’s outside +the door. Wilson!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?” said a voice “off.”</p> + +<p>“Are you making that whining noise?”</p> + +<p>“Whining noise, sir? No, sir, I’m +not making a whining noise.”</p> + +<p>“What <i>sort</i> of noise, +sir?” inquired Mike, as many Wrykynians had +asked before him. It was a question invented by +Wrykyn for use in just such a case as this.</p> + +<p>“I do not propose,” said +Mr. Downing acidly, “to imitate the noise; you +can all hear it perfectly plainly. It is a curious +whining noise.”</p> + +<p>“They are mowing the cricket +field, sir,” said the invisible Wilson. +“Perhaps that’s it.”</p> + +<p>“It may be one of the desks +squeaking, sir,” put in Stone. “They +do sometimes.”</p> + +<p>“Or somebody’s boots, sir,” added +Robinson.</p> + +<p>“Silence! Wilson?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?” bellowed the unseen one.</p> + +<p>“Don’t shout at me from the corridor like +that. Come in.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir!”</p> + +<p>As he spoke the muffled whining changed +suddenly to a series of tenor shrieks, and the india-rubber +form of Sammy bounded into the room like an excited +kangaroo.</p> + +<p>Willing hands had by this time deflected +the clockwork rat from the wall to which it had been +steering, and pointed it up the alley-way between +the two rows of desks. Mr. Downing, rising from +his place, was just in time to see Sammy with a last +leap spring on his prey and begin worrying it.</p> + +<p>Chaos reigned.</p> + +<p>“A rat!” shouted Robinson.</p> + +<p>The twenty-three members of the Brigade +who were not earnest instantly dealt with the situation, +each in the manner that seemed proper to him. +Some leaped on to forms, others flung books, all shouted. +It was a stirring, bustling scene.</p> + +<p>Sammy had by this time disposed of +the clock-work rat, and was now standing, like Marius, +among the ruins barking triumphantly.</p> + +<p>The banging on Mr. Downing’s +desk resembled thunder. It rose above all the +other noises till in time they gave up the competition +and died away.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing shot out orders, threats, +and penalties with the rapidity of a Maxim gun.</p> + +<p>“Stone, sit down! Donovan, +if you do not sit down, you will be severely punished. +Henderson, one hundred lines for gross disorder! +Windham, the same! Go to your seat, Vincent. +What are you doing, Broughton-Knight? I will +not have this disgraceful noise and disorder! +The meeting is at an end; go quietly from the room, +all of you. Jackson and Wilson, remain. <i>Quietly</i>, +I said, Durand! Don’t shuffle your feet +in that abominable way.”</p> + +<p>Crash!</p> + +<p>“Wolferstan, I distinctly saw +you upset that black-board with a movement of your +hand—one hundred lines. Go quietly +from the room, everybody.”</p> + +<p>The meeting dispersed.</p> + +<p>“Jackson and Wilson, come here. +What’s the meaning of this disgraceful conduct? +Put that dog out of the room, Jackson.”</p> + +<p>Mike removed the yelling Sammy and +shut the door on him.</p> + +<p>“Well, Wilson?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, I was playing with a clock-work +rat——”</p> + +<p>“What business have you to be playing with clock-work +rats?”</p> + +<p>“Then I remembered,” said +Mike, “that I had left my Horace in my desk, +so I came in——”</p> + +<p>“And by a fluke, sir,” +said Wilson, as one who tells of strange things, “the +rat happened to be pointing in the same direction, +so he came in, too.”</p> + +<p>“I met Sammy on the gravel outside and he followed +me.”</p> + +<p>“I tried to collar him, but +when you told me to come in, sir, I had to let him +go, and he came in after the rat.”</p> + +<p>It was plain to Mr. Downing that the +burden of sin was shared equally by both culprits. +Wilson had supplied the rat, Mike the dog; but Mr. +Downing liked Wilson and disliked Mike. Wilson +was in the Fire Brigade, frivolous at times, it was +true, but nevertheless a member. Also he kept +wicket for the school. Mike was a member of the +Archaeological Society, and had refused to play cricket.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing allowed these facts to +influence him in passing sentence.</p> + +<p>“One hundred lines, Wilson,” he said. +“You may go.”</p> + +<p>Wilson departed with the air of a +man who has had a great deal of fun, and paid very +little for it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing turned to Mike. “You +will stay in on Saturday afternoon, Jackson; it will +interfere with your Archaeological studies, I fear, +but it may teach you that we have no room at Sedleigh +for boys who spend their time loafing about and making +themselves a nuisance. We are a keen school; +this is no place for boys who do nothing but waste +their time. That will do, Jackson.”</p> + +<p>And Mr. Downing walked out of the +room. In affairs of this kind a master has a +habit of getting the last word.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch39"> +CHAPTER XXXIX<br/><br/> +ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT</a></h3> + +<p>They say misfortunes never come singly. +As Mike sat brooding over his wrongs in his study, +after the Sammy incident, Jellicoe came into the room, +and, without preamble, asked for the loan of a sovereign.</p> + +<p>When one has been in the habit of +confining one’s lendings and borrowings to sixpences +and shillings, a request for a sovereign comes as +something of a blow.</p> + +<p>“What on earth for?” asked Mike.</p> + +<p>“I say, do you mind if I don’t +tell you? I don’t want to tell anybody. +The fact is, I’m in a beastly hole.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, sorry,” said Mike. +“As a matter of fact, I do happen to have a +quid. You can freeze on to it, if you like. +But it’s about all I have got, so don’t +be shy about paying it back.”</p> + +<p>Jellicoe was profuse in his thanks, +and disappeared in a cloud of gratitude.</p> + +<p>Mike felt that Fate was treating him +badly. Being kept in on Saturday meant that he +would be unable to turn out for Little Borlock against +Claythorpe, the return match. In the previous +game he had scored ninety-eight, and there was a lob +bowler in the Claythorpe ranks whom he was particularly +anxious to meet again. Having to yield a sovereign +to Jellicoe—why on earth did the man want +all that?—meant that, unless a carefully +worded letter to his brother Bob at Oxford had the +desired effect, he would be practically penniless for +weeks.</p> + +<p> +In a gloomy frame of mind he sat down to write to Bob, who was playing +regularly for the ’Varsity this season, and only the previous week had made a +century against Sussex, so might be expected to be in a sufficiently softened +mood to advance the needful. (Which, it may be stated at once, he did, by +return of post.) +</p> + +<p>Mike was struggling with the opening +sentences of this letter—he was never a +very ready writer—when Stone and Robinson +burst into the room.</p> + +<p>Mike put down his pen, and got up. +He was in warlike mood, and welcomed the intrusion. +If Stone and Robinson wanted battle, they should have +it.</p> + +<p>But the motives of the expedition +were obviously friendly. Stone beamed. Robinson +was laughing.</p> + +<p>“You’re a sportsman,” said Robinson.</p> + +<p>“What did he give you?” asked Stone.</p> + +<p>They sat down, Robinson on the table, +Stone in Psmith’s deck-chair. Mike’s +heart warmed to them. The little disturbance in +the dormitory was a thing of the past, done with, +forgotten, contemporary with Julius Caesar. He +felt that he, Stone and Robinson must learn to know +and appreciate one another.</p> + +<p>There was, as a matter of fact, nothing +much wrong with Stone and Robinson. They were +just ordinary raggers of the type found at every public +school, small and large. They were absolutely +free from brain. They had a certain amount of +muscle, and a vast store of animal spirits. They +looked on school life purely as a vehicle for ragging. +The Stones and Robinsons are the swashbucklers of the +school world. They go about, loud and boisterous, +with a whole-hearted and cheerful indifference to +other people’s feelings, treading on the toes +of their neighbour and shoving him off the pavement, +and always with an eye wide open for any adventure. +As to the kind of adventure, they are not particular +so long as it promises excitement. Sometimes they +go through their whole school career without accident. +More often they run up against a snag in the shape +of some serious-minded and muscular person who objects +to having his toes trodden on and being shoved off +the pavement, and then they usually sober down, to +the mutual advantage of themselves and the rest of +the community.</p> + +<p>One’s opinion of this type of +youth varies according to one’s point of view. +Small boys whom they had occasion to kick, either from +pure high spirits or as a punishment for some slip +from the narrow path which the ideal small boy should +tread, regarded Stone and Robinson as bullies of the +genuine “Eric” and “St. Winifred’s” +brand. Masters were rather afraid of them. +Adair had a smouldering dislike for them. They +were useful at cricket, but apt not to take Sedleigh +as seriously as he could have wished.</p> + +<p>As for Mike, he now found them pleasant +company, and began to get out the tea-things.</p> + +<p>“Those Fire Brigade meetings,” +said Stone, “are a rag. You can do what +you like, and you never get more than a hundred lines.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you!” said Mike. “I +got Saturday afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“What!”</p> + +<p>“Is Wilson in too?”</p> + +<p>“No. He got a hundred lines.”</p> + +<p>Stone and Robinson were quite concerned.</p> + +<p>“What a beastly swindle!”</p> + +<p>“That’s because you don’t +play cricket. Old Downing lets you do what you +like if you join the Fire Brigade and play cricket.”</p> + +<p>“‘We are, above all, a +keen school,’” quoted Stone. “Don’t +you ever play?”</p> + +<p>“I have played a bit,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Well, why don’t you have +a shot? We aren’t such flyers here. +If you know one end of a bat from the other, you could +get into some sort of a team. Were you at school +anywhere before you came here?”</p> + +<p>“I was at Wrykyn.”</p> + +<p>“Why on earth did you leave?” asked Stone. +“Were you sacked?”</p> + +<p>“No. My pater took me away.”</p> + +<p>“Wrykyn?” said Robinson. +“Are you any relation of the Jacksons there—J. +W. and the others?”</p> + +<p>“Brother.”</p> + +<p>“What!”</p> + +<p>“Well, didn’t you play at all there?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mike, “I +did. I was in the team three years, and I should +have been captain this year, if I’d stopped on.”</p> + +<p>There was a profound and gratifying sensation. +Stone gaped, and Robinson nearly dropped his tea-cup.</p> + +<p>Stone broke the silence.</p> + +<p>“But I mean to say—look +here! What I mean is, why aren’t you playing? +Why don’t you play now?”</p> + +<p>“I do. I play for a village +near here. Place called Little Borlock. A +man who played against Wrykyn for the Free Foresters +captains them. He asked me if I’d like +some games for them.”</p> + +<p>“But why not for the school?”</p> + +<p>“Why should I? It’s +much better fun for the village. You don’t +get ordered about by Adair, for a start.”</p> + +<p>“Adair sticks on side,” said Stone.</p> + +<p>“Enough for six,” agreed Robinson.</p> + +<p>“By Jove,” said Stone, “I’ve +got an idea. My word, what a rag!”</p> + +<p>“What’s wrong now?” inquired Mike +politely.</p> + +<p>“Why, look here. To-morrow’s +Mid-term Service day. It’s nowhere near +the middle of the term, but they always have it in +the fourth week. There’s chapel at half-past +nine till half-past ten. Then the rest of the +day’s a whole holiday. There are always +house matches. We’re playing Downing’s. +Why don’t you play and let’s smash them?”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, yes,” said Robinson. +“Why don’t you? They’re always +sticking on side because they’ve won the house +cup three years running. I say, do you bat or +bowl?”</p> + +<p>“Bat. Why?”</p> + +<p>Robinson rocked on the table.</p> + +<p>“Why, old Downing fancies himself +as a bowler. You <i>must</i> play, and knock +the cover off him.”</p> + +<p>“Masters don’t play in house matches, +surely?”</p> + +<p>“This isn’t a real house +match. Only a friendly. Downing always turns +out on Mid-term Service day. I say, do play.”</p> + +<p>“Think of the rag.”</p> + +<p>“But the team’s full,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“The list isn’t up yet. +We’ll nip across to Barnes’ study, and +make him alter it.”</p> + +<p>They dashed out of the room. +From down the passage Mike heard yells of “<i>Barnes</i>!” +the closing of a door, and a murmur of excited conversation. +Then footsteps returning down the passage.</p> + +<p>Barnes appeared, on his face the look +of one who has seen visions.</p> + +<p>“I say,” he said, “is +it true? Or is Stone rotting? About Wrykyn, +I mean.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I was in the team.”</p> + +<p>Barnes was an enthusiastic cricketer. +He studied his <i>Wisden</i>, and he had an immense +respect for Wrykyn cricket.</p> + +<p>“Are you the M. Jackson, then, +who had an average of fifty-one point nought three +last year?”</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus1"> +<img src="images/jmike1.jpg" alt="“ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON, THEN, WHO HAD AN AVERAGE OF FIFTY-ONE POINT NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?”" /> +</a></p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Barnes’s manner became like that of a curate +talking to a bishop.</p> + +<p>“I say,” he said, “then—er—will +you play against Downing’s to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>“Rather,” said Mike. “Thanks +awfully. Have some tea?”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch40"> +CHAPTER XL<br/><br/> +THE MATCH WITH DOWNING’S</a></h3> + +<p>It is the curious instinct which prompts +most people to rub a thing in that makes the lot of +the average convert an unhappy one. Only the +very self-controlled can refrain from improving the +occasion and scoring off the convert. Most leap +at the opportunity.</p> + +<p>It was so in Mike’s case. +Mike was not a genuine convert, but to Mr. Downing +he had the outward aspect of one. When you have +been impressing upon a non-cricketing boy for nearly +a month that (<i>a</i>) the school is above all a +keen school, (<i>b</i>) that all members of it should +play cricket, and (<i>c</i>) that by not playing cricket +he is ruining his chances in this world and imperilling +them in the next; and when, quite unexpectedly, you +come upon this boy dressed in cricket flannels, wearing +cricket boots and carrying a cricket bag, it seems +only natural to assume that you have converted him, +that the seeds of your eloquence have fallen on fruitful +soil and sprouted.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing assumed it.</p> + +<p>He was walking to the field with Adair +and another member of his team when he came upon Mike.</p> + +<p>“What!” he cried. +“Our Jackson clad in suit of mail and armed for +the fray!”</p> + +<p>This was Mr. Downing’s No. 2 manner—the +playful.</p> + +<p>“This is indeed Saul among the +prophets. Why this sudden enthusiasm for a game +which I understood that you despised? Are our +opponents so reduced?”</p> + +<p>Psmith, who was with Mike, took charge +of the affair with a languid grace which had maddened +hundreds in its time, and which never failed to ruffle +Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>“We are, above all, sir,” +he said, “a keen house. Drones are not +welcomed by us. We are essentially versatile. +Jackson, the archaeologist of yesterday, becomes the +cricketer of to-day. It is the right spirit, +sir,” said Psmith earnestly. “I like +to see it.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, Smith? You are +not playing yourself, I notice. Your enthusiasm +has bounds.”</p> + +<p>“In our house, sir, competition +is fierce, and the Selection Committee unfortunately +passed me over.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There were a number of pitches dotted +about over the field, for there was always a touch +of the London Park about it on Mid-term Service day. +Adair, as captain of cricket, had naturally selected +the best for his own match. It was a good wicket, +Mike saw. As a matter of fact the wickets at +Sedleigh were nearly always good. Adair had infected +the ground-man with some of his own keenness, with +the result that that once-leisurely official now found +himself sometimes, with a kind of mild surprise, working +really hard. At the beginning of the previous +season Sedleigh had played a scratch team from a neighbouring +town on a wicket which, except for the creases, was +absolutely undistinguishable from the surrounding +turf, and behind the pavilion after the match Adair +had spoken certain home truths to the ground-man. +The latter’s reformation had dated from that +moment.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Barnes, timidly jubilant, came up +to Mike with the news that he had won the toss, and +the request that Mike would go in first with him.</p> + +<p>In stories of the “Not Really +a Duffer” type, where the nervous new boy, who +has been found crying in the boot-room over the photograph +of his sister, contrives to get an innings in a game, +nobody suspects that he is really a prodigy till he +hits the Bully’s first ball out of the ground +for six.</p> + +<p>With Mike it was different. There +was no pitying smile on Adair’s face as he started +his run preparatory to sending down the first ball. +Mike, on the cricket field, could not have looked anything +but a cricketer if he had turned out in a tweed suit +and hobnail boots. Cricketer was written all +over him—in his walk, in the way he took +guard, in his stand at the wickets. Adair started +to bowl with the feeling that this was somebody who +had more than a little knowledge of how to deal with +good bowling and punish bad.</p> + +<p>Mike started cautiously. He was +more than usually anxious to make runs to-day, and +he meant to take no risks till he could afford to do +so. He had seen Adair bowl at the nets, and he +knew that he was good.</p> + +<p>The first over was a maiden, six dangerous +balls beautifully played. The fieldsmen changed +over.</p> + +<p>The general interest had now settled +on the match between Outwood’s and Downing’s. +The fact in Mike’s case had gone round the field, +and, as several of the other games had not yet begun, +quite a large crowd had collected near the pavilion +to watch. Mike’s masterly treatment of +the opening over had impressed the spectators, and +there was a popular desire to see how he would deal +with Mr. Downing’s slows. It was generally +anticipated that he would do something special with +them.</p> + +<p>Off the first ball of the master’s +over a leg-bye was run.</p> + +<p>Mike took guard.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing was a bowler with a style +of his own. He took two short steps, two long +steps, gave a jump, took three more short steps, and +ended with a combination of step and jump, during which +the ball emerged from behind his back and started +on its slow career to the wicket. The whole business +had some of the dignity of the old-fashioned minuet, +subtly blended with the careless vigour of a cake-walk. +The ball, when delivered, was billed to break from +leg, but the programme was subject to alterations.</p> + +<p>If the spectators had expected Mike +to begin any firework effects with the first ball, +they were disappointed. He played the over through +with a grace worthy of his brother Joe. The last +ball he turned to leg for a single.</p> + +<p>His treatment of Adair’s next +over was freer. He had got a sight of the ball +now. Half-way through the over a beautiful square +cut forced a passage through the crowd by the pavilion, +and dashed up against the rails. He drove the +sixth ball past cover for three.</p> + +<p>The crowd was now reluctantly dispersing +to its own games, but it stopped as Mr. Downing started +his minuet-cake-walk, in the hope that it might see +something more sensational.</p> + +<p>This time the hope was fulfilled.</p> + +<p>The ball was well up, slow, and off +the wicket on the on-side. Perhaps if it had +been allowed to pitch, it might have broken in and +become quite dangerous. Mike went out at it, +and hit it a couple of feet from the ground. +The ball dropped with a thud and a spurting of dust +in the road that ran along one side of the cricket +field.</p> + +<p>It was returned on the instalment +system by helpers from other games, and the bowler +began his manoeuvres again. A half-volley this +time. Mike slammed it back, and mid-on, whose +heart was obviously not in the thing, failed to stop +it.</p> + +<p>“Get to them, Jenkins,” +said Mr. Downing irritably, as the ball came back +from the boundary. “Get to them.”</p> + +<p>“Sir, please, sir——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk in the field, Jenkins.”</p> + +<p>Having had a full-pitch hit for six +and a half-volley for four, there was a strong probability +that Mr. Downing would pitch his next ball short.</p> + +<p>The expected happened. The third +ball was a slow long-hop, and hit the road at about +the same spot where the first had landed. A howl +of untuneful applause rose from the watchers in the +pavilion, and Mike, with the feeling that this sort +of bowling was too good to be true, waited in position +for number four.</p> + +<p>There are moments when a sort of panic +seizes a bowler. This happened now with Mr. Downing. +He suddenly abandoned science and ran amok. His +run lost its stateliness and increased its vigour. +He charged up to the wicket as a wounded buffalo sometimes +charges a gun. His whole idea now was to bowl +fast.</p> + +<p>When a slow bowler starts to bowl +fast, it is usually as well to be batting, if you +can manage it.</p> + +<p>By the time the over was finished, +Mike’s score had been increased by sixteen, +and the total of his side, in addition, by three wides.</p> + +<p>And a shrill small voice, from the +neighbourhood of the pavilion, uttered with painful +distinctness the words, “Take him off!”</p> + +<p>That was how the most sensational +day’s cricket began that Sedleigh had known.</p> + +<p>A description of the details of the +morning’s play would be monotonous. It +is enough to say that they ran on much the same lines +as the third and fourth overs of the match. Mr. +Downing bowled one more over, off which Mike helped +himself to sixteen runs, and then retired moodily +to cover-point, where, in Adair’s fifth over, +he missed Barnes—the first occasion since +the game began on which that mild batsman had attempted +to score more than a single. Scared by this escape, +Outwood’s captain shrank back into his shell, +sat on the splice like a limpet, and, offering no +more chances, was not out at lunch time with a score +of eleven.</p> + +<p>Mike had then made a hundred and three.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>As Mike was taking off his pads in +the pavilion, Adair came up.</p> + +<p>“Why did you say you didn’t +play cricket?” he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus9"> +<img src="images/jmike9.jpg" alt="“WHY DID YOU SAY YOU DIDN’T PLAY CRICKET?” HE ASKED" /> +</a></p> + +<p>When one has been bowling the whole +morning, and bowling well, without the slightest success, +one is inclined to be abrupt.</p> + +<p>Mike finished unfastening an obstinate +strap. Then he looked up.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say anything +of the kind. I said I wasn’t going to play +here. There’s a difference. As a matter +of fact, I was in the Wrykyn team before I came here. +Three years.”</p> + +<p>Adair was silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Will you play for us against +the Old Sedleighans to-morrow?” he said at length.</p> + +<p>Mike tossed his pads into his bag and got up.</p> + +<p>“No, thanks.”</p> + +<p>There was a silence.</p> + +<p>“Above it, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit. Not up to it. +I shall want a lot of coaching at that end net of +yours before I’m fit to play for Sedleigh.”</p> + +<p>There was another pause.</p> + +<p>“Then you won’t play?” asked Adair.</p> + +<p>“I’m not keeping you, am I?” said +Mike, politely.</p> + +<p>It was remarkable what a number of +members of Outwood’s house appeared to cherish +a personal grudge against Mr. Downing. It had +been that master’s somewhat injudicious practice +for many years to treat his own house as a sort of +Chosen People. Of all masters, the most unpopular +is he who by the silent tribunal of a school is convicted +of favouritism. And the dislike deepens if it +is a house which he favours and not merely individuals. +On occasions when boys in his own house and boys from +other houses were accomplices and partners in wrong-doing, +Mr. Downing distributed his thunderbolts unequally, +and the school noticed it. The result was that +not only he himself, but also—which was +rather unfair—his house, too, had acquired +a good deal of unpopularity.</p> + +<p>The general consensus of opinion in +Outwood’s during the luncheon interval was that, +having got Downing’s up a tree, they would be +fools not to make the most of the situation.</p> + +<p>Barnes’s remark that he supposed, +unless anything happened and wickets began to fall +a bit faster, they had better think of declaring somewhere +about half-past three or four, was met with a storm +of opposition.</p> + +<p>“Declare!” said Robinson. +“Great Scott, what on earth are you talking +about?”</p> + +<p>“Declare!” Stone’s +voice was almost a wail of indignation. “I +never saw such a chump.”</p> + +<p>“They’ll be rather sick +if we don’t, won’t they?” suggested +Barnes.</p> + +<p>“Sick! I should think they +would,” said Stone. “That’s +just the gay idea. Can’t you see that by +a miracle we’ve got a chance of getting a jolly +good bit of our own back against those Downing’s +ticks? What we’ve got to do is to jolly +well keep them in the field all day if we can, and +be jolly glad it’s so beastly hot. If they +lose about a dozen pounds each through sweating about +in the sun after Jackson’s drives, perhaps they’ll +stick on less side about things in general in future. +Besides, I want an innings against that bilge of old +Downing’s, if I can get it.”</p> + +<p>“So do I,” said Robinson.</p> + +<p>“If you declare, I swear I won’t field. +Nor will Robinson.”</p> + +<p>“Rather not.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I won’t then,” +said Barnes unhappily. “Only you know they’re +rather sick already.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you worry about +that,” said Stone with a wide grin. “They’ll +be a lot sicker before we’ve finished.”</p> + +<p>And so it came about that that particular +Mid-term Service-day match made history. Big +scores had often been put up on Mid-term Service day. +Games had frequently been one-sided. But it had +never happened before in the annals of the school +that one side, going in first early in the morning, +had neither completed its innings nor declared it +closed when stumps were drawn at 6.30. In no previous +Sedleigh match, after a full day’s play, had +the pathetic words “Did not bat” been +written against the whole of one of the contending +teams.</p> + +<p>These are the things which mark epochs.</p> + +<p>Play was resumed at 2.15. For +a quarter of an hour Mike was comparatively quiet. +Adair, fortified by food and rest, was bowling really +well, and his first half-dozen overs had to be watched +carefully. But the wicket was too good to give +him a chance, and Mike, playing himself in again, +proceeded to get to business once more. Bowlers +came and went. Adair pounded away at one end with +brief intervals between the attacks. Mr. Downing +took a couple more overs, in one of which a horse, +passing in the road, nearly had its useful life cut +suddenly short. Change-bowlers of various actions +and paces, each weirder and more futile than the last, +tried their luck. But still the first-wicket +stand continued.</p> + +<p>The bowling of a house team is all +head and no body. The first pair probably have +some idea of length and break. The first-change +pair are poor. And the rest, the small change, +are simply the sort of things one sees in dreams after +a heavy supper, or when one is out without one’s +gun.</p> + +<p>Time, mercifully, generally breaks +up a big stand at cricket before the field has suffered +too much, and that is what happened now. At four +o’clock, when the score stood at two hundred +and twenty for no wicket, Barnes, greatly daring, +smote lustily at a rather wide half-volley and was +caught at short-slip for thirty-three. He retired +blushfully to the pavilion, amidst applause, and Stone +came out.</p> + +<p>As Mike had then made a hundred and +eighty-seven, it was assumed by the field, that directly +he had topped his second century, the closure would +be applied and their ordeal finished. There was +almost a sigh of relief when frantic cheering from +the crowd told that the feat had been accomplished. +The fieldsmen clapped in quite an indulgent sort of +way, as who should say, “Capital, capital. +And now let’s start <i>our</i> innings.” +Some even began to edge towards the pavilion. +But the next ball was bowled, and the next over, and +the next after that, and still Barnes made no sign. +(The conscience-stricken captain of Outwood’s +was, as a matter of fact, being practically held down +by Robinson and other ruffians by force.)</p> + +<p>A grey dismay settled on the field.</p> + +<p>The bowling had now become almost +unbelievably bad. Lobs were being tried, and +Stone, nearly weeping with pure joy, was playing an +innings of the How-to-brighten-cricket type. +He had an unorthodox style, but an excellent eye, +and the road at this period of the game became absolutely +unsafe for pedestrians and traffic.</p> + +<p>Mike’s pace had become slower, +as was only natural, but his score, too, was mounting +steadily.</p> + +<p>“This is foolery,” snapped +Mr. Downing, as the three hundred and fifty went up +on the board. “Barnes!” he called.</p> + +<p>There was no reply. A committee +of three was at that moment engaged in sitting on +Barnes’s head in the first eleven changing-room, +in order to correct a more than usually feverish attack +of conscience.</p> + +<p>“Barnes!”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir,” said Stone, +some species of telepathy telling him what was detaining +his captain. “I think Barnes must have left +the field. He has probably gone over to the house +to fetch something.”</p> + +<p>“This is absurd. You must +declare your innings closed. The game has become +a farce.”</p> + +<p>“Declare! Sir, we can’t +unless Barnes does. He might be awfully annoyed +if we did anything like that without consulting him.”</p> + +<p>“Absurd.”</p> + +<p>“He’s very touchy, sir.”</p> + +<p>“It is perfect foolery.”</p> + +<p>“I think Jenkins is just going to bowl, sir.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing walked moodily to his place.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In a neat wooden frame in the senior +day-room at Outwood’s, just above the mantelpiece, +there was on view, a week later, a slip of paper. +The writing on it was as follows:</p> + +<p class="center"><b>OUTWOOD’S <i>v</i>. DOWNING’S</b></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Outwood’s. First innings.</i></p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<tr><td>J. P. Barnes, <i>c</i>. Hammond, <i>b</i>. Hassall...</td><td align="right">33</td></tr> +<tr><td>M. Jackson, not out........................ </td><td align="right">277</td></tr> +<tr><td>W. J. Stone, not out....................... </td><td align="right">124</td></tr> +<tr><td>Extras...............................</td><td align="right">37</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="right">-----</td></tr> +<tr><td>Total (for one wicket)...... </td><td align="right">471</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="center">Downing’s +did not bat.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch41"> +CHAPTER XLI<br/><br/> +THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF JELLICOE</a></h3> + +<p>Outwood’s rollicked considerably +that night. Mike, if he had cared to take the +part, could have been the Petted Hero. But a cordial +invitation from the senior day-room to be the guest +of the evening at about the biggest rag of the century +had been refused on the plea of fatigue. One +does not make two hundred and seventy-seven runs on +a hot day without feeling the effects, even if one +has scored mainly by the medium of boundaries; and +Mike, as he lay back in Psmith’s deck-chair, +felt that all he wanted was to go to bed and stay there +for a week. His hands and arms burned as if they +were red-hot, and his eyes were so tired that he could +not keep them open.</p> + +<p>Psmith, leaning against the mantelpiece, +discoursed in a desultory way on the day’s happenings—the +score off Mr. Downing, the undeniable annoyance of +that battered bowler, and the probability of his venting +his annoyance on Mike next day.</p> + +<p>“In theory,” said he, +“the manly what-d’you-call-it of cricket +and all that sort of thing ought to make him fall +on your neck to-morrow and weep over you as a foeman +worthy of his steel. But I am prepared to bet +a reasonable sum that he will give no Jiu-jitsu exhibition +of this kind. In fact, from what I have seen +of our bright little friend, I should say that, in +a small way, he will do his best to make it distinctly +hot for you, here and there.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care,” +murmured Mike, shifting his aching limbs in the chair.</p> + +<p>“In an ordinary way, I suppose, +a man can put up with having his bowling hit a little. +But your performance was cruelty to animals. +Twenty-eight off one over, not to mention three wides, +would have made Job foam at the mouth. You will +probably get sacked. On the other hand, it’s +worth it. You have lit a candle this day which +can never be blown out. You have shown the lads +of the village how Comrade Downing’s bowling +ought to be treated. I don’t suppose he’ll +ever take another wicket.”</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t deserve to.”</p> + +<p>Psmith smoothed his hair at the glass and turned round +again.</p> + +<p>“The only blot on this day of +mirth and good-will is,” he said, “the +singular conduct of our friend Jellicoe. When +all the place was ringing with song and merriment, +Comrade Jellicoe crept to my side, and, slipping his +little hand in mine, touched me for three quid.”</p> + +<p>This interested Mike, fagged as he was.</p> + +<p>“What! Three quid!”</p> + +<p>“Three jingling, clinking sovereigns. He +wanted four.”</p> + +<p>“But the man must be living +at the rate of I don’t know what. It was +only yesterday that he borrowed a quid from <i>me</i>!”</p> + +<p>“He must be saving money fast. +There appear to be the makings of a financier about +Comrade Jellicoe. Well, I hope, when he’s +collected enough for his needs, he’ll pay me +back a bit. I’m pretty well cleaned out.”</p> + +<p>“I got some from my brother at Oxford.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he’s saving up +to get married. We may be helping towards furnishing +the home. There was a Siamese prince fellow at +my dame’s at Eton who had four wives when he +arrived, and gathered in a fifth during his first +summer holidays. It was done on the correspondence +system. His Prime Minister fixed it up at the +other end, and sent him the glad news on a picture +post-card. I think an eye ought to be kept on +Comrade Jellicoe.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mike tumbled into bed that night like +a log, but he could not sleep. He ached all over. +Psmith chatted for a time on human affairs in general, +and then dropped gently off. Jellicoe, who appeared +to be wrapped in gloom, contributed nothing to the +conversation.</p> + +<p>After Psmith had gone to sleep, Mike +lay for some time running over in his mind, as the +best substitute for sleep, the various points of his +innings that day. He felt very hot and uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>Just as he was wondering whether it +would not be a good idea to get up and have a cold +bath, a voice spoke from the darkness at his side.</p> + +<p>“Are you asleep, Jackson?”</p> + +<p>“Who’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Me—Jellicoe. I can’t +get to sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Nor can I. I’m stiff all over.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll come over and sit on your bed.”</p> + +<p>There was a creaking, and then a weight +descended in the neighbourhood of Mike’s toes.</p> + +<p>Jellicoe was apparently not in conversational +mood. He uttered no word for quite three minutes. +At the end of which time he gave a sound midway between +a snort and a sigh.</p> + +<p>“I say, Jackson!” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“Have you—oh, nothing.”</p> + +<p>Silence again.</p> + +<p>“Jackson.”</p> + +<p>“Hullo?”</p> + +<p>“I say, what would your people say if you got +sacked?”</p> + +<p>“All sorts of things. Especially my pater. +Why?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know. So would mine.”</p> + +<p>“Everybody’s would, I expect.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>The bed creaked, as Jellicoe digested +these great thoughts. Then he spoke again.</p> + +<p>“It would be a jolly beastly thing to get sacked.”</p> + +<p>Mike was too tired to give his mind +to the subject. He was not really listening. +Jellicoe droned on in a depressed sort of way.</p> + +<p>“You’d get home in the +middle of the afternoon, I suppose, and you’d +drive up to the house, and the servant would open the +door, and you’d go in. They might all be +out, and then you’d have to hang about, and +wait; and presently you’d hear them come in, +and you’d go out into the passage, and they’d +say ‘Hullo!’”</p> + +<p>Jellicoe, in order to give verisimilitude, +as it were, to an otherwise bald and unconvincing +narrative, flung so much agitated surprise into the +last word that it woke Mike from a troubled doze into +which he had fallen.</p> + +<p>“Hullo?” he said. “What’s +up?”</p> + +<p>“Then you’d say. +‘Hullo!’ And then they’d say, ‘What +are you doing here?’ And you’d say——”</p> + +<p>“What on earth are you talking about?”</p> + +<p>“About what would happen.”</p> + +<p>“Happen when?”</p> + +<p>“When you got home. After being sacked, +you know.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s been sacked?” Mike’s +mind was still under a cloud.</p> + +<p>“Nobody. But if you were, +I meant. And then I suppose there’d be an +awful row and general sickness, and all that. +And then you’d be sent into a bank, or to Australia, +or something.”</p> + +<p>Mike dozed off again.</p> + +<p>“My pater would be frightfully +sick. My mater would be sick. My sister +would be jolly sick, too. Have you got any sisters, +Jackson? I say, Jackson!”</p> + +<p>“Hullo! What’s the matter? Who’s +that?”</p> + +<p>“Me—Jellicoe.”</p> + +<p>“What’s up?”</p> + +<p>“I asked you if you’d got any sisters.”</p> + +<p>“Any <i>what</i>?”</p> + +<p>“Sisters.”</p> + +<p>“Whose sisters?”</p> + +<p>“Yours. I asked if you’d got any.”</p> + +<p>“Any what?”</p> + +<p>“Sisters.”</p> + +<p>“What about them?”</p> + +<p>The conversation was becoming too +intricate for Jellicoe. He changed the subject.</p> + +<p>“I say, Jackson!”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“I say, you don’t know any one who could +lend me a pound, do you?”</p> + +<p>“What!” cried Mike, sitting +up in bed and staring through the darkness in the +direction whence the numismatist’s voice was +proceeding. “Do <i>what</i>?”</p> + +<p>“I say, look out. You’ll wake Smith.”</p> + +<p>“Did you say you wanted some one to lend you +a quid?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Jellicoe eagerly. “Do +you know any one?”</p> + +<p>Mike’s head throbbed. This +thing was too much. The human brain could not +be expected to cope with it. Here was a youth +who had borrowed a pound from one friend the day before, +and three pounds from another friend that very afternoon, +already looking about him for further loans. +Was it a hobby, or was he saving up to buy an aeroplane?</p> + +<p>“What on earth do you want a pound for?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to tell +anybody. But it’s jolly serious. I +shall get sacked if I don’t get it.”</p> + +<p>Mike pondered.</p> + +<p>Those who have followed Mike’s +career as set forth by the present historian will +have realised by this time that he was a good long +way from being perfect. As the Blue-Eyed Hero +he would have been a rank failure. Except on +the cricket field, where he was a natural genius, +he was just ordinary. He resembled ninety per +cent. of other members of English public schools. +He had some virtues and a good many defects. +He was as obstinate as a mule, though people whom he +liked could do as they pleased with him. He was +good-natured as a general thing, but on occasion his +temper could be of the worst, and had, in his childhood, +been the subject of much adverse comment among his +aunts. He was rigidly truthful, where the issue +concerned only himself. Where it was a case of +saving a friend, he was prepared to act in a manner +reminiscent of an American expert witness.</p> + +<p>He had, in addition, one good quality +without any defect to balance it. He was always +ready to help people. And when he set himself +to do this, he was never put off by discomfort or +risk. He went at the thing with a singleness +of purpose that asked no questions.</p> + +<p>Bob’s postal order, which had +arrived that evening, was reposing in the breast-pocket +of his coat.</p> + +<p>It was a wrench, but, if the situation +was so serious with Jellicoe, it had to be done.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Two minutes later the night was being +made hideous by Jellicoe’s almost tearful protestations +of gratitude, and the postal order had moved from +one side of the dormitory to the other.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch42"> +CHAPTER XLII<br/><br/> +JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK-LIST</a></h3> + +<p>Mike woke next morning with a confused +memory of having listened to a great deal of incoherent +conversation from Jellicoe, and a painfully vivid +recollection of handing over the bulk of his worldly +wealth to him. The thought depressed him, though +it seemed to please Jellicoe, for the latter carolled +in a gay undertone as he dressed, till Psmith, who +had a sensitive ear, asked as a favour that these farm-yard +imitations might cease until he was out of the room.</p> + +<p>There were other things to make Mike +low-spirited that morning. To begin with, he +was in detention, which in itself is enough to spoil +a day. It was a particularly fine day, which +made the matter worse. In addition to this, he +had never felt stiffer in his life. It seemed +to him that the creaking of his joints as he walked +must be audible to every one within a radius of several +yards. Finally, there was the interview with +Mr. Downing to come. That would probably be unpleasant. +As Psmith had said, Mr. Downing was the sort of master +who would be likely to make trouble. The great +match had not been an ordinary match. Mr. Downing +was a curious man in many ways, but he did not make +a fuss on ordinary occasions when his bowling proved +expensive. Yesterday’s performance, however, +stood in a class by itself. It stood forth without +disguise as a deliberate rag. One side does not +keep another in the field the whole day in a one-day +match except as a grisly kind of practical joke. +And Mr. Downing and his house realised this. +The house’s way of signifying its comprehension +of the fact was to be cold and distant as far as the +seniors were concerned, and abusive and pugnacious +as regards the juniors. Young blood had been +shed overnight, and more flowed during the eleven o’clock +interval that morning to avenge the insult.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing’s methods of retaliation +would have to be, of necessity, more elusive; but +Mike did not doubt that in some way or other his form-master +would endeavour to get a bit of his own back.</p> + +<p>As events turned out, he was perfectly +right. When a master has got his knife into a +boy, especially a master who allows himself to be +influenced by his likes and dislikes, he is inclined +to single him out in times of stress, and savage him +as if he were the official representative of the evildoers. +Just as, at sea, the skipper, when he has trouble +with the crew, works it off on the boy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing was in a sarcastic mood +when he met Mike. That is to say, he began in +a sarcastic strain. But this sort of thing is +difficult to keep up. By the time he had reached +his peroration, the rapier had given place to the +bludgeon. For sarcasm to be effective, the user +of it must be met half-way. His hearer must appear +to be conscious of the sarcasm and moved by it. +Mike, when masters waxed sarcastic towards him, always +assumed an air of stolid stupidity, which was as a +suit of mail against satire.</p> + +<p>So Mr. Downing came down from the +heights with a run, and began to express himself with +a simple strength which it did his form good to listen +to. Veterans who had been in the form for terms +said afterwards that there had been nothing to touch +it, in their experience of the orator, since the glorious +day when Dunster, that prince of raggers, who had +left at Christmas to go to a crammer’s, had introduced +three lively grass-snakes into the room during a Latin +lesson.</p> + +<p>“You are surrounded,” +concluded Mr. Downing, snapping his pencil in two +in his emotion, “by an impenetrable mass of conceit +and vanity and selfishness. It does not occur +to you to admit your capabilities as a cricketer in +an open, straightforward way and place them at the +disposal of the school. No, that would not be +dramatic enough for you. It would be too commonplace +altogether. Far too commonplace!” Mr. Downing +laughed bitterly. “No, you must conceal +your capabilities. You must act a lie. You +must—who is that shuffling his feet? +I will not have it, I <i>will</i> have silence—you +must hang back in order to make a more effective entrance, +like some wretched actor who—I will <i>not</i> +have this shuffling. I have spoken of this before. +Macpherson, are you shuffling your feet?”</p> + +<p>“Sir, no, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Parsons?”</p> + +<p>“I think it’s the noise of the draught +under the door, sir.”</p> + +<p>Instant departure of Parsons for the +outer regions. And, in the excitement of this +side-issue, the speaker lost his inspiration, and +abruptly concluded his remarks by putting Mike on to +translate in Cicero. Which Mike, who happened +to have prepared the first half-page, did with much +success.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Old Boys’ match was timed +to begin shortly after eleven o’clock. +During the interval most of the school walked across +the field to look at the pitch. One or two of +the Old Boys had already changed and were practising +in front of the pavilion.</p> + +<p>It was through one of these batsmen +that an accident occurred which had a good deal of +influence on Mike’s affairs.</p> + +<p>Mike had strolled out by himself. +Half-way across the field Jellicoe joined him. +Jellicoe was cheerful, and rather embarrassingly grateful. +He was just in the middle of his harangue when the +accident happened.</p> + +<p>To their left, as they crossed the +field, a long youth, with the faint beginnings of +a moustache and a blazer that lit up the surrounding +landscape like a glowing beacon, was lashing out recklessly +at a friend’s bowling. Already he had gone +within an ace of slaying a small boy. As Mike +and Jellicoe proceeded on their way, there was a shout +of “Heads!”</p> + +<p>The almost universal habit of batsmen +of shouting “Heads!” at whatever height +from the ground the ball may be, is not a little confusing. +The average person, on hearing the shout, puts his +hands over his skull, crouches down and trusts to +luck. This is an excellent plan if the ball is +falling, but is not much protection against a skimming +drive along the ground.</p> + +<p>When “Heads!” was called +on the present occasion, Mike and Jellicoe instantly +assumed the crouching attitude.</p> + +<p>Jellicoe was the first to abandon +it. He uttered a yell and sprang into the air. +After which he sat down and began to nurse his ankle.</p> + +<p>The bright-blazered youth walked up.</p> + +<p>“Awfully sorry, you know, man. Hurt?”</p> + +<p>Jellicoe was pressing the injured +spot tenderly with his finger-tips, uttering sharp +howls whenever, zeal outrunning discretion, he prodded +himself too energetically.</p> + +<p>“Silly ass, Dunster,” he groaned, “slamming +about like that.”</p> + +<p>“Awfully sorry. But I did yell.”</p> + +<p>“It’s swelling up rather,” +said Mike. “You’d better get over +to the house and have it looked at. Can you walk?”</p> + +<p>Jellicoe tried, but sat down again +with a loud “Ow!” At that moment the bell +rang.</p> + +<p>“I shall have to be going in,” +said Mike, “or I’d have helped you over.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you a hand,” said Dunster.</p> + +<p>He helped the sufferer to his feet +and they staggered off together, Jellicoe hopping, +Dunster advancing with a sort of polka step. Mike +watched them start and then turned to go in.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch43"> +CHAPTER XLIII<br/><br/> +MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION</a></h3> + +<p>There is only one thing to be said +in favour of detention on a fine summer’s afternoon, +and that is that it is very pleasant to come out of. +The sun never seems so bright or the turf so green +as during the first five minutes after one has come +out of the detention-room. One feels as if one +were entering a new and very delightful world. +There is also a touch of the Rip van Winkle feeling. +Everything seems to have gone on and left one behind. +Mike, as he walked to the cricket field, felt very +much behind the times.</p> + +<p>Arriving on the field he found the +Old Boys batting. He stopped and watched an over +of Adair’s. The fifth ball bowled a man. +Mike made his way towards the pavilion.</p> + +<p>Before he got there he heard his name +called, and turning, found Psmith seated under a tree +with the bright-blazered Dunster.</p> + +<p>“Return of the exile,” +said Psmith. “A joyful occasion tinged with +melancholy. Have a cherry?—take one +or two. These little acts of unremembered kindness +are what one needs after a couple of hours in extra +pupil-room. Restore your tissues, Comrade Jackson, +and when you have finished those, apply again.”</p> + +<p>“Is your name Jackson?” +inquired Dunster, “because Jellicoe wants to +see you.”</p> + +<p>“Alas, poor Jellicoe!” +said Psmith. “He is now prone on his bed +in the dormitory—there a sheer hulk lies +poor Tom Jellicoe, the darling of the crew, faithful +below he did his duty, but Comrade Dunster has broached +him to. I have just been hearing the melancholy +details.”</p> + +<p>“Old Smith and I,” said +Dunster, “were at a private school together. +I’d no idea I should find him here.”</p> + +<p>“It was a wonderfully stirring +sight when we met,” said Psmith; “not +unlike the meeting of Ulysses and the hound Argos, +of whom you have doubtless read in the course of your +dabblings in the classics. I was Ulysses; Dunster +gave a life-like representation of the faithful dawg.”</p> + +<p>“You still jaw as much as ever, +I notice,” said the animal delineator, fondling +the beginnings of his moustache.</p> + +<p>“More,” sighed Psmith, +“more. Is anything irritating you?” +he added, eyeing the other’s manoeuvres with +interest.</p> + +<p>“You needn’t be a funny +ass, man,” said Dunster, pained; “heaps +of people tell me I ought to have it waxed.”</p> + +<p>“What it really wants is top-dressing +with guano. Hullo! another man out. Adair’s +bowling better to-day than he did yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“I heard about yesterday,” +said Dunster. “It must have been a rag! +Couldn’t we work off some other rag on somebody +before I go? I shall be stopping here till Monday +in the village. Well hit, sir—Adair’s +bowling is perfectly simple if you go out to it.”</p> + +<p>“Comrade Dunster went out to +it first ball,” said Psmith to Mike.</p> + +<p>“Oh! chuck it, man; the sun +was in my eyes. I hear Adair’s got a match +on with the M.C.C. at last.”</p> + +<p>“Has he?” said Psmith; +“I hadn’t heard. Archaeology claims +so much of my time that I have little leisure for +listening to cricket chit-chat.”</p> + +<p>“What was it Jellicoe wanted?” +asked Mike; “was it anything important?”</p> + +<p>“He seemed to think so—he +kept telling me to tell you to go and see him.”</p> + +<p>“I fear Comrade Jellicoe is +a bit of a weak-minded blitherer——”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever hear of a rag +we worked off on Jellicoe once?” asked Dunster. +“The man has absolutely no sense of humour—can’t +see when he’s being rotted. Well it was +like this—Hullo! We’re all out—I +shall have to be going out to field again, I suppose, +dash it! I’ll tell you when I see you again.”</p> + +<p>“I shall count the minutes,” said Psmith.</p> + +<p>Mike stretched himself; the sun was +very soothing after his two hours in the detention-room; +he felt disinclined for exertion.</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose it’s +anything special about Jellicoe, do you?” he +said. “I mean, it’ll keep till tea-time; +it’s no catch having to sweat across to the +house now.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t dream of moving,” +said Psmith. “I have several rather profound +observations on life to make and I can’t make +them without an audience. Soliloquy is a knack. +Hamlet had got it, but probably only after years of +patient practice. Personally, I need some one +to listen when I talk. I like to feel that I +am doing good. You stay where you are—don’t +interrupt too much.”</p> + +<p>Mike tilted his hat over his eyes +and abandoned Jellicoe.</p> + +<p>It was not until the lock-up bell +rang that he remembered him. He went over to +the house and made his way to the dormitory, where +he found the injured one in a parlous state, not so +much physical as mental. The doctor had seen +his ankle and reported that it would be on the active +list in a couple of days. It was Jellicoe’s +mind that needed attention now.</p> + +<p>Mike found him in a condition bordering on collapse.</p> + +<p>“I say, you might have come before!” said +Jellicoe.</p> + +<p>“What’s up? I didn’t +know there was such a hurry about it—what +did you want?”</p> + +<p>“It’s no good now,” +said Jellicoe gloomily; “it’s too late, +I shall get sacked.”</p> + +<p>“What on earth are you talking about? What’s +the row?”</p> + +<p>“It’s about that money.”</p> + +<p>“What about it?”</p> + +<p>“I had to pay it to a man to-day, +or he said he’d write to the Head—then +of course I should get sacked. I was going to +take the money to him this afternoon, only I got crocked, +so I couldn’t move. I wanted to get hold +of you to ask you to take it for me—it’s +too late now!”</p> + +<p>Mike’s face fell. “Oh, +hang it!” he said, “I’m awfully sorry. +I’d no idea it was anything like that—what +a fool I was! Dunster did say he thought it was +something important, only like an ass I thought it +would do if I came over at lock-up.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” +said Jellicoe miserably; “it can’t be helped.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it can,” said Mike. +“I know what I’ll do—it’s +all right. I’ll get out of the house after +lights-out.”</p> + +<p>Jellicoe sat up. “You can’t! +You’d get sacked if you were caught.”</p> + +<p>“Who would catch me? There +was a chap at Wrykyn I knew who used to break out +every night nearly and go and pot at cats with an air-pistol; +it’s as easy as anything.”</p> + +<p>The toad-under-the-harrow expression +began to fade from Jellicoe’s face. “I +say, do you think you could, really?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I can! It’ll be rather +a rag.”</p> + +<p>“I say, it’s frightfully decent of you.”</p> + +<p>“What absolute rot!”</p> + +<p>“But, look here, are you certain——”</p> + +<p>“I shall be all right. Where do you want +me to go?”</p> + +<p>“It’s a place about a mile or two from +here, called Lower Borlock.”</p> + +<p>“Lower Borlock?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, do you know it?”</p> + +<p>“Rather! I’ve been playing cricket +for them all the term.”</p> + +<p>“I say, have you? Do you know a man called +Barley?”</p> + +<p> +“Barley? Rather—he runs the ‘White Boar’.” +</p> + +<p>“He’s the chap I owe the money to.”</p> + +<p>“Old Barley!”</p> + +<p>Mike knew the landlord of the “White +Boar” well; he was the wag of the village team. +Every village team, for some mysterious reason, has +its comic man. In the Lower Borlock eleven Mr. +Barley filled the post. He was a large, stout +man, with a red and cheerful face, who looked exactly +like the jovial inn-keeper of melodrama. He was +the last man Mike would have expected to do the “money +by Monday-week or I write to the headmaster” +business.</p> + +<p>But he reflected that he had only +seen him in his leisure moments, when he might naturally +be expected to unbend and be full of the milk of human +kindness. Probably in business hours he was quite +different. After all, pleasure is one thing and +business another.</p> + +<p>Besides, five pounds is a large sum +of money, and if Jellicoe owed it, there was nothing +strange in Mr. Barley’s doing everything he could +to recover it.</p> + +<p>He wondered a little what Jellicoe +could have been doing to run up a bill as big as that, +but it did not occur to him to ask, which was unfortunate, +as it might have saved him a good deal of inconvenience. +It seemed to him that it was none of his business to +inquire into Jellicoe’s private affairs. +He took the envelope containing the money without +question.</p> + +<p>“I shall bike there, I think,” +he said, “if I can get into the shed.”</p> + +<p>The school’s bicycles were stored +in a shed by the pavilion.</p> + +<p>“You can manage that,” +said Jellicoe; “it’s locked up at night, +but I had a key made to fit it last summer, because +I used to go out in the early morning sometimes before +it was opened.”</p> + +<p>“Got it on you?”</p> + +<p>“Smith’s got it.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll get it from him.”</p> + +<p>“I say!”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t tell Smith why +you want it, will you? I don’t want anybody +to know—if a thing once starts getting +about it’s all over the place in no time.”</p> + +<p>“All right, I won’t tell him.”</p> + +<p>“I say, thanks most awfully! +I don’t know what I should have done, I——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, chuck it!” said Mike.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch44"> +CHAPTER XLIV<br/><br/> +AND FULFILS IT</a></h3> + +<p>Mike started on his ride to Lower +Borlock with mixed feelings. It is pleasant to +be out on a fine night in summer, but the pleasure +is to a certain extent modified when one feels that +to be detected will mean expulsion.</p> + +<p>Mike did not want to be expelled, +for many reasons. Now that he had grown used +to the place he was enjoying himself at Sedleigh to +a certain extent. He still harboured a feeling +of resentment against the school in general and Adair +in particular, but it was pleasant in Outwood’s +now that he had got to know some of the members of +the house, and he liked playing cricket for Lower +Borlock; also, he was fairly certain that his father +would not let him go to Cambridge if he were expelled +from Sedleigh. Mr. Jackson was easy-going with +his family, but occasionally his foot came down like +a steam-hammer, as witness the Wrykyn school report +affair.</p> + +<p>So Mike pedalled along rapidly, being +wishful to get the job done without delay.</p> + +<p>Psmith had yielded up the key, but +his inquiries as to why it was needed had been embarrassing. +Mike’s statement that he wanted to get up early +and have a ride had been received by Psmith, with whom +early rising was not a hobby, with honest amazement +and a flood of advice and warning on the subject.</p> + +<p>“One of the Georges,” +said Psmith, “I forget which, once said that +a certain number of hours’ sleep a day—I +cannot recall for the moment how many—made +a man something, which for the time being has slipped +my memory. However, there you are. I’ve +given you the main idea of the thing; and a German +doctor says that early rising causes insanity. +Still, if you’re bent on it——” +After which he had handed over the key.</p> + +<p>Mike wished he could have taken Psmith +into his confidence. Probably he would have volunteered +to come, too; Mike would have been glad of a companion.</p> + +<p>It did not take him long to reach +Lower Borlock. The “White Boar” stood +at the far end of the village, by the cricket field. +He rode past the church—standing out black +and mysterious against the light sky—and +the rows of silent cottages, until he came to the inn.</p> + +<p>The place was shut, of course, and +all the lights were out—it was some time +past eleven.</p> + +<p>The advantage an inn has over a private +house, from the point of view of the person who wants +to get into it when it has been locked up, is that +a nocturnal visit is not so unexpected in the case +of the former. Preparations have been made to +meet such an emergency. Where with a private +house you would probably have to wander round heaving +rocks and end by climbing up a water-spout, when you +want to get into an inn you simply ring the night-bell, +which, communicating with the boots’ room, has +that hard-worked menial up and doing in no time.</p> + +<p>After Mike had waited for a few minutes +there was a rattling of chains and a shooting of bolts +and the door opened.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?” said the boots, +appearing in his shirt-sleeves. “Why, ’ullo! +Mr. Jackson, sir!”</p> + +<p>Mike was well known to all dwellers +in Lower Borlock, his scores being the chief topic +of conversation when the day’s labours were over.</p> + +<p>“I want to see Mr. Barley, Jack.”</p> + +<p>“He’s bin in bed this half-hour back, +Mr. Jackson.”</p> + +<p>“I must see him. Can you get him down?”</p> + +<p>The boots looked doubtful. “Roust the guv’nor +outer bed?” he said.</p> + +<p>Mike quite admitted the gravity of +the task. The landlord of the “White Boar” +was one of those men who need a beauty sleep.</p> + +<p>“I wish you would—it’s +a thing that can’t wait. I’ve got +some money to give to him.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, if it’s <i>that</i>—” +said the boots.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later mine host appeared +in person, looking more than usually portly in a check +dressing-gown and red bedroom slippers of the <i>Dreadnought</i> +type.</p> + +<p>“You can pop off, Jack.”</p> + +<p>Exit boots to his slumbers once more.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Jackson, what’s it all about?”</p> + +<p>“Jellicoe asked me to come and bring you the +money.”</p> + +<p>“The money? What money?”</p> + +<p>“What he owes you; the five pounds, of course.”</p> + +<p>“The five—” +Mr. Barley stared open-mouthed at Mike for a moment; +then he broke into a roar of laughter which shook the +sporting prints on the wall and drew barks from dogs +in some distant part of the house. He staggered +about laughing and coughing till Mike began to expect +a fit of some kind. Then he collapsed into a chair, +which creaked under him, and wiped his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Oh dear!” he said, “oh dear! the +five pounds!”</p> + +<p>Mike was not always abreast of the +rustic idea of humour, and now he felt particularly +fogged. For the life of him he could not see +what there was to amuse any one so much in the fact +that a person who owed five pounds was ready to pay +it back. It was an occasion for rejoicing, perhaps, +but rather for a solemn, thankful, eyes-raised-to-heaven +kind of rejoicing.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Five pounds!”</p> + +<p>“You might tell us the joke.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Barley opened the letter, read +it, and had another attack; when this was finished +he handed the letter to Mike, who was waiting patiently +by, hoping for light, and requested him to read it.</p> + +<p>“Dear, dear!” chuckled +Mr. Barley, “five pounds! They may teach +you young gentlemen to talk Latin and Greek and what +not at your school, but it ’ud do a lot more +good if they’d teach you how many beans make +five; it ’ud do a lot more good if they’d +teach you to come in when it rained, it ’ud +do——”</p> + +<p>Mike was reading the letter.</p> + +<p class="letter">“DEAR MR. BARLEY,” it ran.—“I +send the £5, which I could not get before. +I hope it is in time, because I don’t want you +to write to the headmaster. I am sorry Jane +and John ate your wife’s hat and the chicken +and broke the vase.”</p> + +<p>There was some more to the same effect; +it was signed “T. G. Jellicoe.”</p> + +<p>“What on earth’s it all +about?” said Mike, finishing this curious document.</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barley slapped his leg. “Why, Mr. Jellicoe keeps two dogs here; I keep ’em +for him till the young gentlemen go home for their holidays. Aberdeen terriers, +they are, and as sharp as mustard. Mischief! I believe you, but, love us! they +don’t do no harm! Bite up an old shoe sometimes and such sort of things. The +other day, last Wednesday it were, about ’ar parse five, Jane—she’s the worst +of the two, always up to it, she is—she got hold of my old hat and had it in +bits before you could say knife. John upset a china vase in one of the bedrooms +chasing a mouse, and they got on the coffee-room table and ate half a cold +chicken what had been left there. So I says to myself, ‘I’ll have a game with +Mr. Jellicoe over this,’ and I sits down and writes off saying the little dogs +have eaten a valuable hat and a chicken and what not, and the damage’ll be five +pounds, and will he kindly remit same by Saturday night at the latest or I +write to his headmaster. Love us!” Mr. Barley slapped his thigh, “he took it +all in, every word—and here’s the five pounds in cash in this envelope here! I +haven’t had such a laugh since we got old Tom Raxley out of bed at twelve of a +winter’s night by telling him his house was a-fire.” +</p> + +<p>It is not always easy to appreciate +a joke of the practical order if one has been made +even merely part victim of it. Mike, as he reflected +that he had been dragged out of his house in the middle +of the night, in contravention of all school rules +and discipline, simply in order to satisfy Mr. Barley’s +sense of humour, was more inclined to be abusive than +mirthful. Running risks is all very well when +they are necessary, or if one chooses to run them +for one’s own amusement, but to be placed in +a dangerous position, a position imperilling one’s +chance of going to the ’Varsity, is another matter +altogether.</p> + +<p>But it is impossible to abuse the +Barley type of man. Barley’s enjoyment +of the whole thing was so honest and child-like. +Probably it had given him the happiest quarter of +an hour he had known for years, since, in fact, the +affair of old Tom Raxley. It would have been cruel +to damp the man.</p> + +<p>So Mike laughed perfunctorily, took +back the envelope with the five pounds, accepted a +stone ginger beer and a plateful of biscuits, and +rode off on his return journey.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mention has been made above of the +difference which exists between getting into an inn +after lock-up and into a private house. Mike was +to find this out for himself.</p> + +<p>His first act on arriving at Sedleigh +was to replace his bicycle in the shed. This +he accomplished with success. It was pitch-dark +in the shed, and as he wheeled his machine in, his +foot touched something on the floor. Without +waiting to discover what this might be, he leaned +his bicycle against the wall, went out, and locked +the door, after which he ran across to Outwood’s.</p> + +<p>Fortune had favoured his undertaking +by decreeing that a stout drain-pipe should pass up +the wall within a few inches of his and Psmith’s +study. On the first day of term, it may be remembered +he had wrenched away the wooden bar which bisected +the window-frame, thus rendering exit and entrance +almost as simple as they had been for Wyatt during +Mike’s first term at Wrykyn.</p> + +<p>He proceeded to scale this water-pipe.</p> + +<p>He had got about half-way up when a voice from somewhere +below cried, “Who’s that?”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch45"> +CHAPTER XLV<br/><br/> +PURSUIT</a></h3> + +<p>These things are Life’s Little +Difficulties. One can never tell precisely how +one will act in a sudden emergency. The right +thing for Mike to have done at this crisis was to +have ignored the voice, carried on up the water-pipe, +and through the study window, and gone to bed. +It was extremely unlikely that anybody could have recognised +him at night against the dark background of the house. +The position then would have been that somebody in +Mr. Outwood’s house had been seen breaking in +after lights-out; but it would have been very difficult +for the authorities to have narrowed the search down +any further than that. There were thirty-four +boys in Outwood’s, of whom about fourteen were +much the same size and build as Mike.</p> + +<p>The suddenness, however, of the call +caused Mike to lose his head. He made the strategic +error of sliding rapidly down the pipe, and running.</p> + +<p>There were two gates to Mr. Outwood’s +front garden. The carriage drive ran in a semicircle, +of which the house was the centre. It was from +the right-hand gate, nearest to Mr. Downing’s +house, that the voice had come, and, as Mike came +to the ground, he saw a stout figure galloping towards +him from that direction. He bolted like a rabbit +for the other gate. As he did so, his pursuer +again gave tongue.</p> + +<p>“Oo-oo-oo yer!” was the exact remark.</p> + +<p>Whereby Mike recognised him as the school sergeant.</p> + +<p>“Oo-oo-oo yer!” was that +militant gentleman’s habitual way of beginning +a conversation.</p> + +<p>With this knowledge, Mike felt easier +in his mind. Sergeant Collard was a man of many +fine qualities, (notably a talent for what he was +wont to call “spott’n,” a mysterious +gift which he exercised on the rifle range), but he +could not run. There had been a time in his hot +youth when he had sprinted like an untamed mustang +in pursuit of volatile Pathans in Indian hill wars, +but Time, increasing his girth, had taken from him +the taste for such exercise. When he moved now +it was at a stately walk. The fact that he ran +to-night showed how the excitement of the chase had +entered into his blood.</p> + +<p>“Oo-oo-oo yer!” he shouted +again, as Mike, passing through the gate, turned into +the road that led to the school. Mike’s +attentive ear noted that the bright speech was a shade +more puffily delivered this time. He began to +feel that this was not such bad fun after all. +He would have liked to be in bed, but, if that was +out of the question, this was certainly the next best +thing.</p> + +<p>He ran on, taking things easily, with +the sergeant panting in his wake, till he reached +the entrance to the school grounds. He dashed +in and took cover behind a tree.</p> + +<p>Presently the sergeant turned the +corner, going badly and evidently cured of a good +deal of the fever of the chase. Mike heard him +toil on for a few yards and then stop. A sound +of panting was borne to him.</p> + +<p>Then the sound of footsteps returning, +this time at a walk. They passed the gate and +went on down the road.</p> + +<p>The pursuer had given the thing up.</p> + +<p>Mike waited for several minutes behind +his tree. His programme now was simple. +He would give Sergeant Collard about half an hour, +in case the latter took it into his head to “guard +home” by waiting at the gate. Then he would +trot softly back, shoot up the water-pipe once more, +and so to bed. It had just struck a quarter to +something—twelve, he supposed—on +the school clock. He would wait till a quarter +past.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, there was nothing to be +gained from lurking behind a tree. He left his +cover, and started to stroll in the direction of the +pavilion. Having arrived there, he sat on the +steps, looking out on to the cricket field.</p> + +<p>His thoughts were miles away, at Wrykyn, +when he was recalled to Sedleigh by the sound of somebody +running. Focussing his gaze, he saw a dim figure +moving rapidly across the cricket field straight for +him.</p> + +<p>His first impression, that he had +been seen and followed, disappeared as the runner, +instead of making for the pavilion, turned aside, and +stopped at the door of the bicycle shed. Like +Mike, he was evidently possessed of a key, for Mike +heard it grate in the lock. At this point he +left the pavilion and hailed his fellow rambler by +night in a cautious undertone.</p> + +<p>The other appeared startled.</p> + +<p>“Who the dickens is that?” he asked. +“Is that you, Jackson?”</p> + +<p>Mike recognised Adair’s voice. +The last person he would have expected to meet at +midnight obviously on the point of going for a bicycle +ride.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing out here, Jackson?”</p> + +<p>“What are you, if it comes to that?”</p> + +<p>Adair was lighting his lamp.</p> + +<p>“I’m going for the doctor. One of +the chaps in our house is bad.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!”</p> + +<p>“What are you doing out here?”</p> + +<p>“Just been for a stroll.”</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t you better be getting back?”</p> + +<p>“Plenty of time.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you think you’re +doing something tremendously brave and dashing?”</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t you better be going to the doctor?”</p> + +<p>“If you want to know what I think——”</p> + +<p>“I don’t. So long.”</p> + +<p>Mike turned away, whistling between +his teeth. After a moment’s pause, Adair +rode off. Mike saw his light pass across the field +and through the gate. The school clock struck +the quarter.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Mike that Sergeant Collard, +even if he had started to wait for him at the house, +would not keep up the vigil for more than half an +hour. He would be safe now in trying for home +again.</p> + +<p>He walked in that direction.</p> + +<p>Now it happened that Mr. Downing, +aroused from his first sleep by the news, conveyed +to him by Adair, that MacPhee, one of the junior members +of Adair’s dormitory, was groaning and exhibiting +other symptoms of acute illness, was disturbed in +his mind. Most housemasters feel uneasy in the +event of illness in their houses, and Mr. Downing +was apt to get jumpy beyond the ordinary on such occasions. +All that was wrong with MacPhee, as a matter of fact, +was a very fair stomach-ache, the direct and legitimate +result of eating six buns, half a cocoa-nut, three +doughnuts, two ices, an apple, and a pound of cherries, +and washing the lot down with tea. But Mr. Downing +saw in his attack the beginnings of some deadly scourge +which would sweep through and decimate the house. +He had despatched Adair for the doctor, and, after +spending a few minutes prowling restlessly about his +room, was now standing at his front gate, waiting for +Adair’s return.</p> + +<p>It came about, therefore, that Mike, +sprinting lightly in the direction of home and safety, +had his already shaken nerves further maltreated by +being hailed, at a range of about two yards, with a +cry of “Is that you, Adair?” The next +moment Mr. Downing emerged from his gate.</p> + +<p>Mike stood not upon the order of his +going. He was off like an arrow—a +flying figure of Guilt. Mr. Downing, after the +first surprise, seemed to grasp the situation. +Ejaculating at intervals the words, “Who is +that? Stop! Who is that? Stop!” +he dashed after the much-enduring Wrykynian at an +extremely creditable rate of speed. Mr. Downing +was by way of being a sprinter. He had won handicap +events at College sports at Oxford, and, if Mike had +not got such a good start, the race might have been +over in the first fifty yards. As it was, that +victim of Fate, going well, kept ahead. At the +entrance to the school grounds he led by a dozen yards. +The procession passed into the field, Mike heading +as before for the pavilion.</p> + +<p>As they raced across the soft turf, +an idea occurred to Mike which he was accustomed in +after years to attribute to genius, the one flash of +it which had ever illumined his life.</p> + +<p>It was this.</p> + +<p>One of Mr. Downing’s first acts, +on starting the Fire Brigade at Sedleigh, had been +to institute an alarm bell. It had been rubbed +into the school officially—in speeches +from the daïs—by the headmaster, and unofficially—in +earnest private conversations—by Mr. Downing, +that at the sound of this bell, at whatever hour of +day or night, every member of the school must leave +his house in the quickest possible way, and make for +the open. The bell might mean that the school +was on fire, or it might mean that one of the houses +was on fire. In any case, the school had its +orders—to get out into the open at once.</p> + +<p>Nor must it be supposed that the school +was without practice at this feat. Every now +and then a notice would be found posted up on the +board to the effect that there would be fire drill +during the dinner hour that day. Sometimes the +performance was bright and interesting, as on the +occasion when Mr. Downing, marshalling the brigade +at his front gate, had said, “My house is supposed +to be on fire. Now let’s do a record!” +which the Brigade, headed by Stone and Robinson, obligingly +did. They fastened the hose to the hydrant, smashed +a window on the ground floor (Mr. Downing having retired +for a moment to talk with the headmaster), and poured +a stream of water into the room. When Mr. Downing +was at liberty to turn his attention to the matter, +he found that the room selected was his private study, +most of the light furniture of which was floating +on a miniature lake. That episode had rather +discouraged his passion for realism, and fire drill +since then had taken the form, for the most part, of +“practising escaping.” This was done +by means of canvas shoots, kept in the dormitories. +At the sound of the bell the prefect of the dormitory +would heave one end of the shoot out of window, the +other end being fastened to the sill. He would +then go down it himself, using his elbows as a brake. +Then the second man would follow his example, and +these two, standing below, would hold the end of the +shoot so that the rest of the dormitory could fly +rapidly down it without injury, except to their digestions.</p> + +<p>After the first novelty of the thing +had worn off, the school had taken a rooted dislike +to fire drill. It was a matter for self-congratulation +among them that Mr. Downing had never been able to +induce the headmaster to allow the alarm bell to be +sounded for fire drill at night. The headmaster, +a man who had his views on the amount of sleep necessary +for the growing boy, had drawn the line at night operations. +“Sufficient unto the day” had been the +gist of his reply. If the alarm bell were to +ring at night when there was no fire, the school might +mistake a genuine alarm of fire for a bogus one, and +refuse to hurry themselves.</p> + +<p>So Mr. Downing had had to be content with day drill.</p> + +<p>The alarm bell hung in the archway +leading into the school grounds. The end of the +rope, when not in use, was fastened to a hook half-way +up the wall.</p> + +<p>Mike, as he raced over the cricket +field, made up his mind in a flash that his only chance +of getting out of this tangle was to shake his pursuer +off for a space of time long enough to enable him to +get to the rope and tug it. Then the school would +come out. He would mix with them, and in the +subsequent confusion get back to bed unnoticed.</p> + +<p>The task was easier than it would +have seemed at the beginning of the chase. Mr. +Downing, owing to the two facts that he was not in +the strictest training, and that it is only an Alfred +Shrubb who can run for any length of time at top speed +shouting “Who is that? Stop! Who is +that? Stop!” was beginning to feel distressed. +There were bellows to mend in the Downing camp. +Mike perceived this, and forced the pace. He +rounded the pavilion ten yards to the good. Then, +heading for the gate, he put all he knew into one +last sprint. Mr. Downing was not equal to the +effort. He worked gamely for a few strides, then +fell behind. When Mike reached the gate, a good +forty yards separated them.</p> + +<p>As far as Mike could judge—he +was not in a condition to make nice calculations—he +had about four seconds in which to get busy with that +bell rope.</p> + +<p>Probably nobody has ever crammed more +energetic work into four seconds than he did then.</p> + +<p>The night was as still as only an +English summer night can be, and the first clang of +the clapper sounded like a million iron girders falling +from a height on to a sheet of tin. He tugged +away furiously, with an eye on the now rapidly advancing +and loudly shouting figure of the housemaster.</p> + +<p>And from the darkened house beyond +there came a gradually swelling hum, as if a vast +hive of bees had been disturbed.</p> + +<p>The school was awake.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch46"> +CHAPTER XLVI<br/><br/> +THE DECORATION OF SAMMY</a></h3> + +<p>Psmith leaned against the mantelpiece +in the senior day-room at Outwood’s—since +Mike’s innings against Downing’s the Lost +Lambs had been received as brothers by that centre +of disorder, so that even Spiller was compelled to +look on the hatchet as buried—and gave his +views on the events of the preceding night, or, rather, +of that morning, for it was nearer one than twelve +when peace had once more fallen on the school.</p> + +<p>“Nothing that happens in this +luny-bin,” said Psmith, “has power to +surprise me now. There was a time when I might +have thought it a little unusual to have to leave +the house through a canvas shoot at one o’clock +in the morning, but I suppose it’s quite the +regular thing here. Old school tradition, &c. +Men leave the school, and find that they’ve +got so accustomed to jumping out of window that they +look on it as a sort of affectation to go out by the +door. I suppose none of you merchants can give +me any idea when the next knockabout entertainment +of this kind is likely to take place?”</p> + +<p>“I wonder who rang that bell!” +said Stone. “Jolly sporting idea.”</p> + +<p>“I believe it was Downing himself. +If it was, I hope he’s satisfied.”</p> + +<p>Jellicoe, who was appearing in society +supported by a stick, looked meaningly at Mike, and +giggled, receiving in answer a stony stare. Mike +had informed Jellicoe of the details of his interview +with Mr. Barley at the “White Boar,” and +Jellicoe, after a momentary splutter of wrath against +the practical joker, was now in a particularly light-hearted +mood. He hobbled about, giggling at nothing and +at peace with all the world.</p> + +<p>“It was a stirring scene,” +said Psmith. “The agility with which Comrade +Jellicoe boosted himself down the shoot was a triumph +of mind over matter. He seemed to forget his +ankle. It was the nearest thing to a Boneless +Acrobatic Wonder that I have ever seen.”</p> + +<p>“I was in a beastly funk, I can tell you.”</p> + +<p>Stone gurgled.</p> + +<p>“So was I,” he said, “for +a bit. Then, when I saw that it was all a rag, +I began to look about for ways of doing the thing really +well. I emptied about six jugs of water on a +gang of kids under my window.”</p> + +<p>“I rushed into Downing’s, and ragged some +of the beds,” said Robinson.</p> + +<p>“It was an invigorating time,” +said Psmith. “A sort of pageant. I +was particularly struck with the way some of the bright +lads caught hold of the idea. There was no skimping. +Some of the kids, to my certain knowledge, went down +the shoot a dozen times. There’s nothing +like doing a thing thoroughly. I saw them come +down, rush upstairs, and be saved again, time after +time. The thing became chronic with them. +I should say Comrade Downing ought to be satisfied +with the high state of efficiency to which he has +brought us. At any rate I hope——”</p> + +<p>There was a sound of hurried footsteps +outside the door, and Sharpe, a member of the senior +day-room, burst excitedly in. He seemed amused.</p> + +<p>“I say, have you chaps seen Sammy?”</p> + +<p>“Seen who?” said Stone. “Sammy? +Why?”</p> + +<p>“You’ll know in a second. +He’s just outside. Here, Sammy, Sammy, +Sammy! Sam! Sam!”</p> + +<p>A bark and a patter of feet outside.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Sammy. Good dog.”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s silence. +Then a great yell of laughter burst forth. Even +Psmith’s massive calm was shattered. As +for Jellicoe, he sobbed in a corner.</p> + +<p>Sammy’s beautiful white coat +was almost entirely concealed by a thick covering +of bright red paint. His head, with the exception +of the ears, was untouched, and his serious, friendly +eyes seemed to emphasise the weirdness of his appearance. +He stood in the doorway, barking and wagging his tail, +plainly puzzled at his reception. He was a popular +dog, and was always well received when he visited any +of the houses, but he had never before met with enthusiasm +like this.</p> + +<p>“Good old Sammy!”</p> + +<p>“What on earth’s been happening to him?”</p> + +<p>“Who did it?”</p> + +<p>Sharpe, the introducer, had no views on the matter.</p> + +<p>“I found him outside Downing’s, +with a crowd round him. Everybody seems to have +seen him. I wonder who on earth has gone and mucked +him up like that!”</p> + +<p>Mike was the first to show any sympathy for the maltreated +animal.</p> + +<p>“Poor old Sammy,” he said, +kneeling on the floor beside the victim, and scratching +him under the ear. “What a beastly shame! +It’ll take hours to wash all that off him, and +he’ll hate it.”</p> + +<p>“It seems to me,” said +Psmith, regarding Sammy dispassionately through his +eyeglass, “that it’s not a case for mere +washing. They’ll either have to skin him +bodily, or leave the thing to time. Time, the +Great Healer. In a year or two he’ll fade +to a delicate pink. I don’t see why you +shouldn’t have a pink bull-terrier. It would +lend a touch of distinction to the place. Crowds +would come in excursion trains to see him. By +charging a small fee you might make him self-supporting. +I think I’ll suggest it to Comrade Downing.”</p> + +<p>“There’ll be a row about this,” +said Stone.</p> + +<p>“Rows are rather sport when +you’re not mixed up in them,” said Robinson, +philosophically. “There’ll be another +if we don’t start off for chapel soon. +It’s a quarter to.”</p> + +<p>There was a general move. Mike +was the last to leave the room. As he was going, +Jellicoe stopped him. Jellicoe was staying in +that Sunday, owing to his ankle.</p> + +<p>“I say,” said Jellicoe, +“I just wanted to thank you again about that——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right.”</p> + +<p>“No, but it really was awfully +decent of you. You might have got into a frightful +row. Were you nearly caught?”</p> + +<p>“Jolly nearly.”</p> + +<p>“It <i>was</i> you who rang the bell, wasn’t +it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was. But for goodness +sake don’t go gassing about it, or somebody +will get to hear who oughtn’t to, and I shall +be sacked.”</p> + +<p>“All right. But, I say, you <i>are</i> +a chap!”</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter now?”</p> + +<p>“I mean about Sammy, you know. +It’s a jolly good score off old Downing. +He’ll be frightfully sick.”</p> + +<p>“Sammy!” cried Mike. +“My good man, you don’t think I did that, +do you? What absolute rot! I never touched +the poor brute.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, all right,” said +Jellicoe. “But I wasn’t going to tell +any one, of course.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“You <i>are</i> a chap!” giggled Jellicoe.</p> + +<p>Mike walked to chapel rather thoughtfully.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch47"> +CHAPTER XLVII<br/><br/> +MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT</a></h3> + +<p>There was just one moment, the moment +in which, on going down to the junior day-room of +his house to quell an unseemly disturbance, he was +boisterously greeted by a vermilion bull terrier, when +Mr. Downing was seized with a hideous fear lest he +had lost his senses. Glaring down at the crimson +animal that was pawing at his knees, he clutched at +his reason for one second as a drowning man clutches +at a lifebelt.</p> + +<p>Then the happy laughter of the young +onlookers reassured him.</p> + +<p>“Who—” he shouted, “WHO +has done this?”</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus10"> +<img src="images/jmike10.jpg" alt="“WHO—” HE SHOUTED, “WHO HAS DONE THIS?”" /> +</a></p> + +<p>“Please, sir, we don’t know,” shrilled +the chorus.</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, he came in like that.”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, we were sitting here when he suddenly +ran in, all red.”</p> + +<p>A voice from the crowd: “Look at old Sammy!”</p> + +<p>The situation was impossible. +There was nothing to be done. He could not find +out by verbal inquiry who had painted the dog. +The possibility of Sammy being painted red during +the night had never occurred to Mr. Downing, and now +that the thing had happened he had no scheme of action. +As Psmith would have said, he had confused the unusual +with the impossible, and the result was that he was +taken by surprise.</p> + +<p>While he was pondering on this the +situation was rendered still more difficult by Sammy, +who, taking advantage of the door being open, escaped +and rushed into the road, thus publishing his condition +to all and sundry. You can hush up a painted +dog while it confines itself to your own premises, +but once it has mixed with the great public this becomes +out of the question. Sammy’s state advanced +from a private trouble into a row. Mr. Downing’s +next move was in the same direction that Sammy had +taken, only, instead of running about the road, he +went straight to the headmaster.</p> + +<p>The Head, who had had to leave his +house in the small hours in his pyjamas and a dressing-gown, +was not in the best of tempers. He had a cold +in the head, and also a rooted conviction that Mr. +Downing, in spite of his strict orders, had rung the +bell himself on the previous night in order to test +the efficiency of the school in saving themselves +in the event of fire. He received the housemaster +frostily, but thawed as the latter related the events +which had led up to the ringing of the bell.</p> + +<p>“Dear me!” he said, deeply +interested. “One of the boys at the school, +you think?”</p> + +<p>“I am certain of it,” said Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>“Was he wearing a school cap?”</p> + +<p>“He was bare-headed. A +boy who breaks out of his house at night would hardly +run the risk of wearing a distinguishing cap.”</p> + +<p>“No, no, I suppose not. A big boy, you +say?”</p> + +<p>“Very big.”</p> + +<p>“You did not see his face?”</p> + +<p>“It was dark and he never looked +back—he was in front of me all the time.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me!”</p> + +<p>“There is another matter——”</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“This boy, whoever he was, had +done something before he rang the bell—he +had painted my dog Sampson red.”</p> + +<p>The headmaster’s eyes protruded +from their sockets. “He—he—<i>what</i>, +Mr. Downing?”</p> + +<p>“He painted my dog red—bright +red.” Mr. Downing was too angry to see +anything humorous in the incident. Since the previous +night he had been wounded in his tenderest feelings. +His Fire Brigade system had been most shamefully abused +by being turned into a mere instrument in the hands +of a malefactor for escaping justice, and his dog had +been held up to ridicule to all the world. He +did not want to smile, he wanted revenge.</p> + +<p>The headmaster, on the other hand, +did want to smile. It was not his dog, he could +look on the affair with an unbiased eye, and to him +there was something ludicrous in a white dog suddenly +appearing as a red dog.</p> + +<p>“It is a scandalous thing!” said Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>“Quite so! Quite so!” +said the headmaster hastily. “I shall punish +the boy who did it most severely. I will speak +to the school in the Hall after chapel.”</p> + +<p>Which he did, but without result. +A cordial invitation to the criminal to come forward +and be executed was received in wooden silence by the +school, with the exception of Johnson III., of Outwood’s, +who, suddenly reminded of Sammy’s appearance +by the headmaster’s words, broke into a wild +screech of laughter, and was instantly awarded two +hundred lines.</p> + +<p>The school filed out of the Hall to +their various lunches, and Mr. Downing was left with +the conviction that, if he wanted the criminal discovered, +he would have to discover him for himself.</p> + +<p>The great thing in affairs of this +kind is to get a good start, and Fate, feeling perhaps +that it had been a little hard upon Mr. Downing, gave +him a most magnificent start. Instead of having +to hunt for a needle in a haystack, he found himself +in a moment in the position of being set to find it +in a mere truss of straw.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Outwood who helped him. +Sergeant Collard had waylaid the archaeological expert +on his way to chapel, and informed him that at close +on twelve the night before he had observed a youth, +unidentified, attempting to get into his house <i>via</i> +the water-pipe. Mr. Outwood, whose thoughts were +occupied with apses and plinths, not to mention cromlechs, +at the time, thanked the sergeant with absent-minded +politeness and passed on. Later he remembered +the fact <i>à propos</i> of some reflections on the +subject of burglars in mediaeval England, and passed +it on to Mr. Downing as they walked back to lunch.</p> + +<p>“Then the boy was in your house!” +exclaimed Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>“Not actually in, as far as +I understand. I gather from the sergeant that +he interrupted him before——”</p> + +<p>“I mean he must have been one +of the boys in your house.”</p> + +<p>“But what was he doing out at that hour?”</p> + +<p>“He had broken out.”</p> + +<p>“Impossible, I think. Oh +yes, quite impossible! I went round the dormitories +as usual at eleven o’clock last night, and all +the boys were asleep—all of them.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing was not listening. +He was in a state of suppressed excitement and exultation +which made it hard for him to attend to his colleague’s +slow utterances. He had a clue! Now that +the search had narrowed itself down to Outwood’s +house, the rest was comparatively easy. Perhaps +Sergeant Collard had actually recognised the boy. +Or reflection he dismissed this as unlikely, for the +sergeant would scarcely have kept a thing like that +to himself; but he might very well have seen more +of him than he, Downing, had seen. It was only +with an effort that he could keep himself from rushing +to the sergeant then and there, and leaving the house +lunch to look after itself. He resolved to go +the moment that meal was at an end.</p> + +<p>Sunday lunch at a public-school house +is probably one of the longest functions in existence. +It drags its slow length along like a languid snake, +but it finishes in time. In due course Mr. Downing, +after sitting still and eyeing with acute dislike +everybody who asked for a second helping, found himself +at liberty.</p> + +<p>Regardless of the claims of digestion, +he rushed forth on the trail.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Sergeant Collard lived with his wife +and a family of unknown dimensions in the lodge at +the school front gate. Dinner was just over when +Mr. Downing arrived, as a blind man could have told.</p> + +<p>The sergeant received his visitor +with dignity, ejecting the family, who were torpid +after roast beef and resented having to move, in order +to ensure privacy.</p> + +<p>Having requested his host to smoke, +which the latter was about to do unasked, Mr. Downing +stated his case.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Outwood,” he said, +“tells me that last night, sergeant, you saw +a boy endeavouring to enter his house.”</p> + +<p> +The sergeant blew a cloud of smoke. “Oo-oo-oo, yer,” he said; “I did, +sir—spotted ’im, I did. Feeflee good at spottin’, I am, sir. Dook of Connaught, +he used to say, ‘’Ere comes Sergeant Collard,’ he used to say, ‘’e’s feeflee +good at spottin’.’” +</p> + +<p>“What did you do?”</p> + +<p> +“Do? Oo-oo-oo! I shouts ‘Oo-oo-oo yer, yer young monkey, what yer doin’ +there?’” +</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“But ’e was off in a flash, and I doubles +after ’im prompt.”</p> + +<p>“But you didn’t catch him?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” admitted the sergeant reluctantly.</p> + +<p>“Did you catch sight of his face, sergeant?”</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, ’e was doublin’ away in the opposite direction.” +</p> + +<p>“Did you notice anything at all about his appearance?”</p> + +<p>“’E was a long young chap, +sir, with a pair of legs on him—feeflee +fast ’e run, sir. Oo-oo-oo, feeflee!”</p> + +<p>“You noticed nothing else?”</p> + +<p>“’E wasn’t wearing no cap of any +sort, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!”</p> + +<p>“Bare-’eaded, sir,” added the sergeant, +rubbing the point in.</p> + +<p>“It was undoubtedly the same +boy, undoubtedly! I wish you could have caught +a glimpse of his face, sergeant.”</p> + +<p>“So do I, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You would not be able to recognise +him again if you saw him, you think?”</p> + +<p> +“Oo-oo-oo! Wouldn’t go so far as to say that, sir, ’cos yer see, I’m feeflee +good at spottin’, but it was a dark night.” +</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing rose to go.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “the +search is now considerably narrowed down, considerably! +It is certain that the boy was one of the boys in Mr. +Outwood’s house.”</p> + +<p>“Young monkeys!” interjected the sergeant +helpfully.</p> + +<p>“Good-afternoon, sergeant.”</p> + +<p>“Good-afternoon to you, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Pray do not move, sergeant.”</p> + +<p>The sergeant had not shown the slightest +inclination of doing anything of the kind.</p> + +<p>“I will find my way out. Very hot to-day, +is it not?”</p> + +<p>“Feeflee warm, sir; weather’s goin’ +to break—workin’ up for thunder.”</p> + +<p>“I hope not. The school +plays the M.C.C. on Wednesday, and it would be a pity +if rain were to spoil our first fixture with them. +Good afternoon.”</p> + +<p>And Mr. Downing went out into the +baking sunlight, while Sergeant Collard, having requested +Mrs. Collard to take the children out for a walk at +once, and furthermore to give young Ernie a clip side +of the ’ead, if he persisted in making so much +noise, put a handkerchief over his face, rested his +feet on the table, and slept the sleep of the just.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch48"> +CHAPTER XLVIII<br/><br/> +THE SLEUTH-HOUND</a></h3> + +<p>For the Doctor Watsons of this world, +as opposed to the Sherlock Holmeses, success in the +province of detective work must always be, to a very +large extent, the result of luck. Sherlock Holmes +can extract a clue from a wisp of straw or a flake +of cigar-ash. But Doctor Watson has got to have +it taken out for him, and dusted, and exhibited clearly, +with a label attached.</p> + +<p>The average man is a Doctor Watson. +We are wont to scoff in a patronising manner at that +humble follower of the great investigator, but, as +a matter of fact, we should have been just as dull +ourselves. We should not even have risen to the +modest level of a Scotland Yard Bungler. We should +simply have hung around, saying:</p> + +<p>“My dear Holmes, how—?” +and all the rest of it, just as the downtrodden medico +did.</p> + +<p>It is not often that the ordinary +person has any need to see what he can do in the way +of detection. He gets along very comfortably in +the humdrum round of life without having to measure +footprints and smile quiet, tight-lipped smiles. +But if ever the emergency does arise, he thinks naturally +of Sherlock Holmes, and his methods.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing had read all the Holmes +stories with great attention, and had thought many +times what an incompetent ass Doctor Watson was; but, +now that he had started to handle his own first case, +he was compelled to admit that there was a good deal +to be said in extenuation of Watson’s inability +to unravel tangles. It certainly was uncommonly +hard, he thought, as he paced the cricket field after +leaving Sergeant Collard, to detect anybody, unless +you knew who had really done the crime. As he +brooded over the case in hand, his sympathy for Dr. +Watson increased with every minute, and he began to +feel a certain resentment against Sir Arthur Conan +Doyle. It was all very well for Sir Arthur to +be so shrewd and infallible about tracing a mystery +to its source, but he knew perfectly well who had +done the thing before he started!</p> + +<p>Now that he began really to look into +this matter of the alarm bell and the painting of +Sammy, the conviction was creeping over him that the +problem was more difficult than a casual observer might +imagine. He had got as far as finding that his +quarry of the previous night was a boy in Mr. Outwood’s +house, but how was he to get any farther? That +was the thing. There were, of course, only a limited +number of boys in Mr. Outwood’s house as tall +as the one he had pursued; but even if there had been +only one other, it would have complicated matters. +If you go to a boy and say, “Either you or Jones +were out of your house last night at twelve o’clock,” +the boy does not reply, “Sir, I cannot tell +a lie—I was out of my house last night at +twelve o’clock.” He simply assumes +the animated expression of a stuffed fish, and leaves +the next move to you. It is practically Stalemate.</p> + +<p>All these things passed through Mr. +Downing’s mind as he walked up and down the +cricket field that afternoon.</p> + +<p>What he wanted was a clue. But +it is so hard for the novice to tell what is a clue +and what isn’t. Probably, if he only knew, +there were clues lying all over the place, shouting +to him to pick them up.</p> + +<p>What with the oppressive heat of the +day and the fatigue of hard thinking, Mr. Downing +was working up for a brain-storm, when Fate once more +intervened, this time in the shape of Riglett, a junior +member of his house.</p> + +<p>Riglett slunk up in the shamefaced +way peculiar to some boys, even when they have done +nothing wrong, and, having capped Mr. Downing with +the air of one who has been caught in the act of doing +something particularly shady, requested that he might +be allowed to fetch his bicycle from the shed.</p> + +<p>“Your bicycle?” snapped +Mr. Downing. Much thinking had made him irritable. +“What do you want with your bicycle?”</p> + +<p>Riglett shuffled, stood first on his +left foot, then on his right, blushed, and finally +remarked, as if it were not so much a sound reason +as a sort of feeble excuse for the low and blackguardly +fact that he wanted his bicycle, that he had got leave +for tea that afternoon.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Downing remembered. +Riglett had an aunt resident about three miles from +the school, whom he was accustomed to visit occasionally +on Sunday afternoons during the term.</p> + +<p>He felt for his bunch of keys, and +made his way to the shed, Riglett shambling behind +at an interval of two yards.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing unlocked the door, and +there on the floor was the Clue!</p> + +<p>A clue that even Dr. Watson could not have overlooked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing saw it, but did not immediately +recognise it for what it was. What he saw at +first was not a Clue, but just a mess. He had +a tidy soul and abhorred messes. And this was +a particularly messy mess. The greater part of +the flooring in the neighbourhood of the door was +a sea of red paint. The tin from which it had +flowed was lying on its side in the middle of the +shed. The air was full of the pungent scent.</p> + +<p>“Pah!” said Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly, beneath the disguise +of the mess, he saw the clue. A foot-mark! +No less. A crimson foot-mark on the grey concrete!</p> + +<p>Riglett, who had been waiting patiently +two yards away, now coughed plaintively. The +sound recalled Mr. Downing to mundane matters.</p> + +<p>“Get your bicycle, Riglett,” +he said, “and be careful where you tread. +Somebody has upset a pot of paint on the floor.”</p> + +<p>Riglett, walking delicately through +dry places, extracted his bicycle from the rack, and +presently departed to gladden the heart of his aunt, +leaving Mr. Downing, his brain fizzing with the enthusiasm +of the detective, to lock the door and resume his +perambulation of the cricket field.</p> + +<p>Give Dr. Watson a fair start, and +he is a demon at the game. Mr. Downing’s +brain was now working with a rapidity and clearness +which a professional sleuth might have envied.</p> + +<p>Paint. Red paint. Obviously +the same paint with which Sammy had been decorated. +A foot-mark. Whose foot-mark? Plainly that +of the criminal who had done the deed of decoration.</p> + +<p>Yoicks!</p> + +<p>There were two things, however, to +be considered. Your careful detective must consider +everything. In the first place, the paint might +have been upset by the ground-man. It was the +ground-man’s paint. He had been giving +a fresh coating to the wood-work in front of the pavilion +scoring-box at the conclusion of yesterday’s +match. (A labour of love which was the direct outcome +of the enthusiasm for work which Adair had instilled +into him.) In that case the foot-mark might be his.</p> + +<p><i>Note one</i>: Interview the ground-man on +this point.</p> + +<p>In the second place Adair might have +upset the tin and trodden in its contents when he +went to get his bicycle in order to fetch the doctor +for the suffering MacPhee. This was the more probable +of the two contingencies, for it would have been dark +in the shed when Adair went into it.</p> + +<p><i>Note two</i> Interview Adair as +to whether he found, on returning to the house, that +there was paint on his boots.</p> + +<p>Things were moving.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He resolved to take Adair first. +He could get the ground-man’s address from him.</p> + +<p>Passing by the trees under whose shade +Mike and Psmith and Dunster had watched the match +on the previous day, he came upon the Head of his +house in a deck-chair reading a book. A summer +Sunday afternoon is the time for reading in deck-chairs.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Adair,” he said. +“No, don’t get up. I merely wished +to ask you if you found any paint on your boots when +you returned to the house last night?”</p> + +<p>“Paint, sir?” Adair was +plainly puzzled. His book had been interesting, +and had driven the Sammy incident out of his head.</p> + +<p>“I see somebody has spilt some +paint on the floor of the bicycle shed. You did +not do that, I suppose, when you went to fetch your +bicycle?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“It is spilt all over the floor. +I wondered whether you had happened to tread in it. +But you say you found no paint on your boots this +morning?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, my bicycle is always +quite near the door of the shed. I didn’t +go into the shed at all.”</p> + +<p>“I see. Quite so. +Thank you, Adair. Oh, by the way, Adair, where +does Markby live?”</p> + +<p>“I forget the name of his cottage, +sir, but I could show you in a second. It’s +one of those cottages just past the school gates, on +the right as you turn out into the road. There +are three in a row. His is the first you come +to. There’s a barn just before you get to +them.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you. I shall be +able to find them. I should like to speak to +Markby for a moment on a small matter.”</p> + +<p>A sharp walk took him to the cottages +Adair had mentioned. He rapped at the door of +the first, and the ground-man came out in his shirt-sleeves, +blinking as if he had just woke up, as was indeed +the case.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Markby!”</p> + +<p>“Sir?”</p> + +<p>“You remember that you were +painting the scoring-box in the pavilion last night +after the match?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. It wanted a +lick of paint bad. The young gentlemen will scramble +about and get through the window. Makes it look +shabby, sir. So I thought I’d better give +it a coating so as to look ship-shape when the Marylebone +come down.”</p> + +<p>“Just so. An excellent +idea. Tell me, Markby, what did you do with the +pot of paint when you had finished?”</p> + +<p>“Put it in the bicycle shed, sir.”</p> + +<p>“On the floor?”</p> + +<p>“On the floor, sir? No. +On the shelf at the far end, with the can of whitening +what I use for marking out the wickets, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, yes. Quite so. Just as +I thought.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want it, sir?”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you, Markby, no, +thank you. The fact is, somebody who had no business +to do so has moved the pot of paint from the shelf +to the floor, with the result that it has been kicked +over, and spilt. You had better get some more +to-morrow. Thank you, Markby. That is all +I wished to know.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing walked back to the school +thoroughly excited. He was hot on the scent now. +The only other possible theories had been tested and +successfully exploded. The thing had become simple +to a degree. All he had to do was to go to Mr. +Outwood’s house—the idea of searching +a fellow-master’s house did not appear to him +at all a delicate task; somehow one grew unconsciously +to feel that Mr. Outwood did not really exist as a +man capable of resenting liberties—find +the paint-splashed boot, ascertain its owner, and +denounce him to the headmaster. Picture, Blue +Fire and “God Save the King” by the full +strength of the company. There could be no doubt +that a paint-splashed boot must be in Mr. Outwood’s +house somewhere. A boy cannot tread in a pool +of paint without showing some signs of having done +so. It was Sunday, too, so that the boot would +not yet have been cleaned. Yoicks! Also Tally-ho! +This really was beginning to be something like business.</p> + +<p>Regardless of the heat, the sleuth-hound +hurried across to Outwood’s as fast as he could +walk.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch49"> +CHAPTER XLIX<br/><br/> +A CHECK</a></h3> + +<p>The only two members of the house +not out in the grounds when he arrived were Mike and +Psmith. They were standing on the gravel drive +in front of the boys’ entrance. Mike had +a deck-chair in one hand and a book in the other. +Psmith—for even the greatest minds will +sometimes unbend—was playing diabolo. +That is to say, he was trying without success to raise +the spool from the ground.</p> + +<p>“There’s a kid in France,” +said Mike disparagingly, as the bobbin rolled off +the string for the fourth time, “who can do it +three thousand seven hundred and something times.”</p> + +<p>Psmith smoothed a crease out of his +waistcoat and tried again. He had just succeeded +in getting the thing to spin when Mr. Downing arrived. +The sound of his footsteps disturbed Psmith and brought +the effort to nothing.</p> + +<p>“Enough of this spoolery,” +said he, flinging the sticks through the open window +of the senior day-room. “I was an ass ever +to try it. The philosophical mind needs complete +repose in its hours of leisure. Hullo!”</p> + +<p>He stared after the sleuth-hound, +who had just entered the house.</p> + +<p>“What the dickens,” said +Mike, “does he mean by barging in as if he’d +bought the place?”</p> + +<p>“Comrade Downing looks pleased +with himself. What brings him round in this direction, +I wonder! Still, no matter. The few articles +which he may sneak from our study are of inconsiderable +value. He is welcome to them. Do you feel +inclined to wait awhile till I have fetched a chair +and book?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be going on. +I shall be under the trees at the far end of the ground.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis well. I will be with you in +about two ticks.”</p> + +<p>Mike walked on towards the field, +and Psmith, strolling upstairs to fetch his novel, +found Mr. Downing standing in the passage with the +air of one who has lost his bearings.</p> + +<p>“A warm afternoon, sir,” +murmured Psmith courteously, as he passed.</p> + +<p>“Er—Smith!”</p> + +<p>“Sir?”</p> + +<p>“I—er—wish to go round +the dormitories.”</p> + +<p>It was Psmith’s guiding rule +in life never to be surprised at anything, so he merely +inclined his head gracefully, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>“I should be glad if you would +fetch the keys and show me where the rooms are.”</p> + +<p>“With acute pleasure, sir,” +said Psmith. “Or shall I fetch Mr. Outwood, +sir?”</p> + +<p>“Do as I tell you, Smith,” snapped Mr. +Downing.</p> + +<p>Psmith said no more, but went down +to the matron’s room. The matron being +out, he abstracted the bunch of keys from her table +and rejoined the master.</p> + +<p>“Shall I lead the way, sir?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing nodded.</p> + +<p>“Here, sir,” said Psmith, +opening a door, “we have Barnes’ dormitory. +An airy room, constructed on the soundest hygienic +principles. Each boy, I understand, has quite +a considerable number of cubic feet of air all to +himself. It is Mr. Outwood’s boast that +no boy has ever asked for a cubic foot of air in vain. +He argues justly——”</p> + +<p>He broke off abruptly and began to +watch the other’s manoeuvres in silence. +Mr. Downing was peering rapidly beneath each bed in +turn.</p> + +<p>“Are you looking for Barnes, +sir?” inquired Psmith politely. “I +think he’s out in the field.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing rose, having examined +the last bed, crimson in the face with the exercise.</p> + +<p>“Show me the next dormitory, +Smith,” he said, panting slightly.</p> + +<p>“This,” said Psmith, opening +the next door and sinking his voice to an awed whisper, +“is where <i>I</i> sleep!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing glanced swiftly beneath +the three beds. “Excuse me, sir,” +said Psmith, “but are we chasing anything?”</p> + +<p>“Be good enough, Smith,” +said Mr. Downing with asperity, “to keep your +remarks to yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I was only wondering, sir. +Shall I show you the next in order?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly.”</p> + +<p>They moved on up the passage.</p> + +<p>Drawing blank at the last dormitory, +Mr. Downing paused, baffled. Psmith waited patiently +by. An idea struck the master.</p> + +<p>“The studies, Smith,” he cried.</p> + +<p>“Aha!” said Psmith. +“I beg your pardon, sir. The observation +escaped me unawares. The frenzy of the chase +is beginning to enter into my blood. Here we +have——”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing stopped short.</p> + +<p>“Is this impertinence studied, Smith?”</p> + +<p>“Ferguson’s study, sir? +No, sir. That’s further down the passage. +This is Barnes’.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing looked at him closely. +Psmith’s face was wooden in its gravity. +The master snorted suspiciously, then moved on.</p> + +<p>“Whose is this?” he asked, rapping a door.</p> + +<p>“This, sir, is mine and Jackson’s.”</p> + +<p>“What! Have you a study? You are low +down in the school for it.”</p> + +<p>“I think, sir, that Mr. Outwood +gave it us rather as a testimonial to our general +worth than to our proficiency in school-work.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing raked the room with a +keen eye. The absence of bars from the window +attracted his attention.</p> + +<p>“Have you no bars to your windows +here, such as there are in my house?”</p> + +<p>“There appears to be no bar, +sir,” said Psmith, putting up his eyeglass.</p> + +<p>Mr Downing was leaning out of the window.</p> + +<p>“A lovely view, is it not, sir?” +said Psmith. “The trees, the field, the +distant hills——”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing suddenly started. +His eye had been caught by the water-pipe at the side +of the window. The boy whom Sergeant Collard had +seen climbing the pipe must have been making for this +study.</p> + +<p>He spun round and met Psmith’s +blandly inquiring gaze. He looked at Psmith carefully +for a moment. No. The boy he had chased last +night had not been Psmith. That exquisite’s +figure and general appearance were unmistakable, even +in the dusk.</p> + +<p>“Whom did you say you shared this study with, +Smith?”</p> + +<p>“Jackson, sir. The cricketer.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind about his cricket, +Smith,” said Mr. Downing with irritation.</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“He is the only other occupant of the room?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Nobody else comes into it?”</p> + +<p>“If they do, they go out extremely quickly, +sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! Thank you, Smith.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, sir.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing pondered. Jackson! +The boy bore him a grudge. The boy was precisely +the sort of boy to revenge himself by painting the +dog Sammy. And, gadzooks! The boy whom he +had pursued last night had been just about Jackson’s +size and build!</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing was as firmly convinced +at that moment that Mike’s had been the hand +to wield the paint-brush as he had ever been of anything +in his life.</p> + +<p>“Smith!” he said excitedly.</p> + +<p>“On the spot, sir,” said Psmith affably.</p> + +<p>“Where are Jackson’s boots?”</p> + +<p>There are moments when the giddy excitement +of being right on the trail causes the amateur (or +Watsonian) detective to be incautious. Such a +moment came to Mr. Downing then. If he had been +wise, he would have achieved his object, the getting +a glimpse of Mike’s boots, by a devious and +snaky route. As it was, he rushed straight on.</p> + +<p>“His boots, sir? He has +them on. I noticed them as he went out just now.”</p> + +<p>“Where is the pair he wore yesterday?”</p> + +<p>“Where are the boots of yester-year?” +murmured Psmith to himself. “I should say +at a venture, sir, that they would be in the basket +downstairs. Edmund, our genial knife-and-boot +boy, collects them, I believe, at early dawn.”</p> + +<p>“Would they have been cleaned yet?”</p> + +<p>“If I know Edmund, sir—no.”</p> + +<p>“Smith,” said Mr. Downing, +trembling with excitement, “go and bring that +basket to me here.”</p> + +<p>Psmith’s brain was working rapidly +as he went downstairs. What exactly was at the +back of the sleuth’s mind, prompting these manoeuvres, +he did not know. But that there was something, +and that that something was directed in a hostile +manner against Mike, probably in connection with last +night’s wild happenings, he was certain. +Psmith had noticed, on leaving his bed at the sound +of the alarm bell, that he and Jellicoe were alone +in the room. That might mean that Mike had gone +out through the door when the bell sounded, or it might +mean that he had been out all the time. It began +to look as if the latter solution were the correct +one.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He staggered back with the basket, +painfully conscious the while that it was creasing +his waistcoat, and dumped it down on the study floor. +Mr. Downing stooped eagerly over it. Psmith leaned +against the wall, and straightened out the damaged +garment.</p> + +<p>“We have here, sir,” he +said, “a fair selection of our various bootings.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing looked up.</p> + +<p>“You dropped none of the boots on your way up, +Smith?”</p> + +<p>“Not one, sir. It was a fine performance.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing uttered a grunt of satisfaction, +and bent once more to his task. Boots flew about +the room. Mr. Downing knelt on the floor beside +the basket, and dug like a terrier at a rat-hole.</p> + +<p>At last he made a dive, and, with +an exclamation of triumph, rose to his feet. +In his hand he held a boot.</p> + +<p>“Put those back again, Smith,” he said.</p> + +<p>The ex-Etonian, wearing an expression +such as a martyr might have worn on being told off +for the stake, began to pick up the scattered footgear, +whistling softly the tune of “I do all the dirty +work,” as he did so.</p> + +<p>“That’s the lot, sir,” he said, +rising.</p> + +<p>“Ah. Now come across with +me to the headmaster’s house. Leave the +basket here. You can carry it back when you return.”</p> + +<p>“Shall I put back that boot, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not. I shall take this with +me, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Shall I carry it, sir?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing reflected.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Smith,” he said. “I think +it would be best.”</p> + +<p>It occurred to him that the spectacle +of a housemaster wandering abroad on the public highway, +carrying a dirty boot, might be a trifle undignified. +You never knew whom you might meet on Sunday afternoon.</p> + +<p>Psmith took the boot, and doing so, +understood what before had puzzled him.</p> + +<p>Across the toe of the boot was a broad splash of red +paint.</p> + +<p>He knew nothing, of course, of the +upset tin in the bicycle shed; but when a housemaster’s +dog has been painted red in the night, and when, on +the following day, the housemaster goes about in search +of a paint-splashed boot, one puts two and two together. +Psmith looked at the name inside the boot. It +was “Brown, boot-maker, Bridgnorth.” +Bridgnorth was only a few miles from his own home and +Mike’s. Undoubtedly it was Mike’s +boot.</p> + +<p>“Can you tell me whose boot that is?” +asked Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>Psmith looked at it again.</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I can’t say the little +chap’s familiar to me.”</p> + +<p>“Come with me, then.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing left the room. After a moment Psmith +followed him.</p> + +<p>The headmaster was in his garden. +Thither Mr. Downing made his way, the boot-bearing +Psmith in close attendance.</p> + +<p>The Head listened to the amateur detective’s +statement with interest.</p> + +<p>“Indeed?” he said, when Mr. Downing had +finished.</p> + +<p>“Indeed? Dear me! +It certainly seems—It is a curiously well-connected +thread of evidence. You are certain that there +was red paint on this boot you discovered in Mr. Outwood’s +house?”</p> + +<p>“I have it with me. I brought it on purpose +to show to you. Smith!”</p> + +<p>“Sir?”</p> + +<p>“You have the boot?”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said the headmaster, +putting on a pair of pince-nez, “now let me +look at—This, you say, is the—? +Just so. Just so. Just.... But, er, +Mr. Downing, it may be that I have not examined this +boot with sufficient care, but—Can <i>you</i> +point out to me exactly where this paint is that you +speak of?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing stood staring at the boot +with a wild, fixed stare. Of any suspicion of +paint, red or otherwise, it was absolutely and entirely +innocent.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch50"> +CHAPTER L<br/><br/> +THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE</a></h3> + +<p>The boot became the centre of attraction, +the cynosure of all eyes. Mr. Downing fixed it +with the piercing stare of one who feels that his +brain is tottering. The headmaster looked at it +with a mildly puzzled expression. Psmith, putting +up his eyeglass, gazed at it with a sort of affectionate +interest, as if he were waiting for it to do a trick +of some kind.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing was the first to break the silence.</p> + +<p>“There was paint on this boot,” +he said vehemently. “I tell you there was +a splash of red paint across the toe. Smith will +bear me out in this. Smith, you saw the paint +on this boot?”</p> + +<p>“Paint, sir!”</p> + +<p>“What! Do you mean to tell me that you +did <i>not</i> see it?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. There was no paint on this boot.”</p> + +<p>“This is foolery. I saw +it with my own eyes. It was a broad splash right +across the toe.”</p> + +<p>The headmaster interposed.</p> + +<p>“You must have made a mistake, +Mr. Downing. There is certainly no trace of paint +on this boot. These momentary optical delusions +are, I fancy, not uncommon. Any doctor will tell +you——”</p> + +<p>“I had an aunt, sir,” +said Psmith chattily, “who was remarkably subject——”</p> + +<p>“It is absurd. I cannot +have been mistaken,” said Mr. Downing. “I +am positively certain the toe of this boot was red +when I found it.”</p> + +<p>“It is undoubtedly black now, Mr. Downing.”</p> + +<p>“A sort of chameleon boot,” murmured Psmith.</p> + +<p>The goaded housemaster turned on him.</p> + +<p>“What did you say, Smith?”</p> + +<p>“Did I speak, sir?” said +Psmith, with the start of one coming suddenly out +of a trance.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing looked searchingly at him.</p> + +<p>“You had better be careful, Smith.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I strongly suspect you of having something +to do with this.”</p> + +<p>“Really, Mr. Downing,” +said the headmaster, “that is surely improbable. +Smith could scarcely have cleaned the boot on his way +to my house. On one occasion I inadvertently +spilt some paint on a shoe of my own. I can assure +you that it does not brush off. It needs a very +systematic cleaning before all traces are removed.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly, sir,” said Psmith. “My +theory, if I may——?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Smith.”</p> + +<p>Psmith bowed courteously and proceeded.</p> + +<p>“My theory, sir, is that Mr. +Downing was deceived by the light and shade effects +on the toe of the boot. The afternoon sun, streaming +in through the window, must have shone on the boot +in such a manner as to give it a momentary and fictitious +aspect of redness. If Mr. Downing recollects, +he did not look long at the boot. The picture +on the retina of the eye, consequently, had not time +to fade. I remember thinking myself, at the moment, +that the boot appeared to have a certain reddish tint. +The mistake——”</p> + +<p>“Bah!” said Mr. Downing shortly.</p> + +<p>“Well, really,” said the +headmaster, “it seems to me that that is the +only explanation that will square with the facts. +A boot that is really smeared with red paint does +not become black of itself in the course of a few +minutes.”</p> + +<p>“You are very right, sir,” +said Psmith with benevolent approval. “May +I go now, sir? I am in the middle of a singularly +impressive passage of Cicero’s speech De Senectute.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry that you should +leave your preparation till Sunday, Smith. It +is a habit of which I altogether disapprove.”</p> + +<p>“I am reading it, sir,” +said Psmith, with simple dignity, “for pleasure. +Shall I take the boot with me, sir?”</p> + +<p>“If Mr. Downing does not want it?”</p> + +<p>The housemaster passed the fraudulent +piece of evidence to Psmith without a word, and the +latter, having included both masters in a kindly smile, +left the garden.</p> + +<p>Pedestrians who had the good fortune +to be passing along the road between the housemaster’s +house and Mr. Outwood’s at that moment saw what, +if they had but known it, was a most unusual sight, +the spectacle of Psmith running. Psmith’s +usual mode of progression was a dignified walk. +He believed in the contemplative style rather than +the hustling.</p> + +<p>On this occasion, however, reckless +of possible injuries to the crease of his trousers, +he raced down the road, and turning in at Outwood’s +gate, bounded upstairs like a highly trained professional +athlete.</p> + +<p>On arriving at the study, his first +act was to remove a boot from the top of the pile +in the basket, place it in the small cupboard under +the bookshelf, and lock the cupboard. Then he +flung himself into a chair and panted.</p> + +<p>“Brain,” he said to himself +approvingly, “is what one chiefly needs in matters +of this kind. Without brain, where are we? +In the soup, every time. The next development +will be when Comrade Downing thinks it over, and is +struck with the brilliant idea that it’s just +possible that the boot he gave me to carry and the +boot I did carry were not one boot but two boots. +Meanwhile——”</p> + +<p>He dragged up another chair for his +feet and picked up his novel.</p> + +<p>He had not been reading long when +there was a footstep in the passage, and Mr. Downing +appeared.</p> + +<p>The possibility, in fact the probability, +of Psmith having substituted another boot for the +one with the incriminating splash of paint on it had +occurred to him almost immediately on leaving the headmaster’s +garden. Psmith and Mike, he reflected, were friends. +Psmith’s impulse would be to do all that lay +in his power to shield Mike. Feeling aggrieved +with himself that he had not thought of this before, +he, too, hurried over to Outwood’s.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing was brisk and peremptory.</p> + +<p>“I wish to look at these boots +again,” he said. Psmith, with a sigh, laid +down his novel, and rose to assist him.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Smith,” said +the housemaster. “I can manage without your +help.”</p> + +<p>Psmith sat down again, carefully tucking +up the knees of his trousers, and watched him with +silent interest through his eyeglass.</p> + +<p>The scrutiny irritated Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>“Put that thing away, Smith,” he said.</p> + +<p>“That thing, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that ridiculous glass. Put it away.”</p> + +<p>“Why, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Why! Because I tell you to do so.”</p> + +<p>“I guessed that that was the +reason, sir,” sighed Psmith replacing the eyeglass +in his waistcoat pocket. He rested his elbows +on his knees, and his chin on his hands, and resumed +his contemplative inspection of the boot-expert, who, +after fidgeting for a few moments, lodged another +complaint.</p> + +<p>“Don’t sit there staring at me, Smith.”</p> + +<p>“I was interested in what you were doing, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind. Don’t stare at me in +that idiotic way.”</p> + +<p>“May I read, sir?” asked Psmith, patiently.</p> + +<p>“Yes, read if you like.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p> + +<p>Psmith took up his book again, and +Mr. Downing, now thoroughly irritated, pursued his +investigations in the boot-basket.</p> + +<p>He went through it twice, but each +time without success. After the second search, +he stood up, and looked wildly round the room. +He was as certain as he could be of anything that +the missing piece of evidence was somewhere in the +study. It was no use asking Psmith point-blank +where it was, for Psmith’s ability to parry dangerous +questions with evasive answers was quite out of the +common.</p> + +<p>His eye roamed about the room. +There was very little cover there, even for so small +a fugitive as a number nine boot. The floor could +be acquitted, on sight, of harbouring the quarry.</p> + +<p>Then he caught sight of the cupboard, +and something seemed to tell him that there was the +place to look.</p> + +<p>“Smith!” he said.</p> + +<p>Psmith had been reading placidly all the while.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p>“What is in this cupboard?”</p> + +<p>“That cupboard, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. This cupboard.” Mr. Downing +rapped the door irritably.</p> + +<p>“Just a few odd trifles, sir. +We do not often use it. A ball of string, perhaps. +Possibly an old note-book. Nothing of value or +interest.”</p> + +<p>“Open it.”</p> + +<p>“I think you will find that it is locked, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Unlock it.”</p> + +<p>“But where is the key, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Have you not got the key?”</p> + +<p>“If the key is not in the lock, +sir, you may depend upon it that it will take a long +search to find it.”</p> + +<p>“Where did you see it last?”</p> + +<p>“It was in the lock yesterday morning. +Jackson might have taken it.”</p> + +<p>“Where is Jackson?”</p> + +<p>“Out in the field somewhere, sir.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing thought for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe a word +of it,” he said shortly. “I have my +reasons for thinking that you are deliberately keeping +the contents of that cupboard from me. I shall +break open the door.”</p> + +<p>Psmith got up.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you mustn’t do that, +sir.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing stared, amazed.</p> + +<p>“Are you aware whom you are talking to, Smith?” +he inquired acidly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. And I know it’s +not Mr. Outwood, to whom that cupboard happens to +belong. If you wish to break it open, you must +get his permission. He is the sole lessee and +proprietor of that cupboard. I am only the acting +manager.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing paused. He also reflected. +Mr. Outwood in the general rule did not count much +in the scheme of things, but possibly there were limits +to the treating of him as if he did not exist. +To enter his house without his permission and search +it to a certain extent was all very well. But +when it came to breaking up his furniture, perhaps——!</p> + +<p>On the other hand, there was the maddening +thought that if he left the study in search of Mr. +Outwood, in order to obtain his sanction for the house-breaking +work which he proposed to carry through, Smith would +be alone in the room. And he knew that, if Smith +were left alone in the room, he would instantly remove +the boot to some other hiding-place. He thoroughly +disbelieved the story of the lost key. He was +perfectly convinced that the missing boot was in the +cupboard.</p> + +<p>He stood chewing these thoughts for +awhile, Psmith in the meantime standing in a graceful +attitude in front of the cupboard, staring into vacancy.</p> + +<p>Then he was seized with a happy idea. +Why should he leave the room at all? If he sent +Smith, then he himself could wait and make certain +that the cupboard was not tampered with.</p> + +<p>“Smith,” he said, “go +and find Mr. Outwood, and ask him to be good enough +to come here for a moment.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch51"> +CHAPTER LI<br/><br/> +MAINLY ABOUT BOOTS</a></h3> + +<p>“Be quick, Smith,” he +said, as the latter stood looking at him without making +any movement in the direction of the door.</p> + +<p>“<i>Quick</i>, sir?” said +Psmith meditatively, as if he had been asked a conundrum.</p> + +<p>“Go and find Mr. Outwood at once.”</p> + +<p>Psmith still made no move.</p> + +<p>“Do you intend to disobey me, Smith?” +Mr. Downing’s voice was steely.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“What!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>There was one of those you-could-have-heard-a-pin-drop +silences. Psmith was staring reflectively at +the ceiling. Mr. Downing was looking as if at +any moment he might say, “Thwarted to me face, +ha, ha! And by a very stripling!”</p> + +<p>It was Psmith, however, who resumed +the conversation. His manner was almost too respectful; +which made it all the more a pity that what he said +did not keep up the standard of docility.</p> + +<p> +“I take my stand,” he said, “on a technical point. I say to myself, ‘Mr. +Downing is a man I admire as a human being and respect as a master. In——’” +</p> + +<p>“This impertinence is doing you no good, Smith.”</p> + +<p>Psmith waved a hand deprecatingly.</p> + +<p> +“If you will let me explain, sir. I was about to say that in any other place +but Mr. Outwood’s house, your word would be law. I would fly to do your +bidding. If you pressed a button, I would do the rest. But in Mr. Outwood’s +house I cannot do anything except what pleases me or what is ordered by Mr. +Outwood. I ought to have remembered that before. One cannot,” he continued, as +who should say, “Let us be reasonable,” “one cannot, to take a parallel case, +imagine the colonel commanding the garrison at a naval station going on board a +battleship and ordering the crew to splice the jibboom spanker. It might be an +admirable thing for the Empire that the jibboom spanker <i>should</i> be +spliced at that particular juncture, but the crew would naturally decline to +move in the matter until the order came from the commander of the ship. So in +my case. If you will go to Mr. Outwood, and explain to him how matters stand, +and come back and say to me, ‘Psmith, Mr. Outwood wishes you to ask him to be +good enough to come to this study,’ then I shall be only too glad to go and +find him. You see my difficulty, sir?” +</p> + +<p>“Go and fetch Mr. Outwood, Smith. I shall +not tell you again.”</p> + +<p>Psmith flicked a speck of dust from his coat-sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Very well, Smith.”</p> + +<p>“I can assure you, sir, at any +rate, that if there is a boot in that cupboard now, +there will be a boot there when you return.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing stalked out of the room.</p> + +<p>“But,” added Psmith pensively +to himself, as the footsteps died away, “I did +not promise that it would be the same boot.”</p> + +<p>He took the key from his pocket, unlocked +the cupboard, and took out the boot. Then he +selected from the basket a particularly battered specimen. +Placing this in the cupboard, he re-locked the door.</p> + +<p>His next act was to take from the +shelf a piece of string. Attaching one end of +this to the boot that he had taken from the cupboard, +he went to the window. His first act was to fling +the cupboard-key out into the bushes. Then he +turned to the boot. On a level with the sill +the water-pipe, up which Mike had started to climb +the night before, was fastened to the wall by an iron +band. He tied the other end of the string to +this, and let the boot swing free. He noticed +with approval, when it had stopped swinging, that +it was hidden from above by the window-sill.</p> + +<p>He returned to his place at the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>As an after-thought he took another +boot from the basket, and thrust it up the chimney. +A shower of soot fell into the grate, blackening his +hand.</p> + +<p>The bathroom was a few yards down +the corridor. He went there, and washed off the +soot.</p> + +<p>When he returned, Mr. Downing was +in the study, and with him Mr. Outwood, the latter +looking dazed, as if he were not quite equal to the +intellectual pressure of the situation.</p> + +<p>“Where have you been, Smith?” +asked Mr. Downing sharply.</p> + +<p>“I have been washing my hands, sir.”</p> + +<p>“H’m!” said Mr. Downing suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I saw Smith go into the +bathroom,” said Mr. Outwood. “Smith, +I cannot quite understand what it is Mr. Downing wishes +me to do.”</p> + +<p>“My dear Outwood,” snapped +the sleuth, “I thought I had made it perfectly +clear. Where is the difficulty?”</p> + +<p> +“I cannot understand why you should suspect Smith of keeping his boots in a +cupboard, and,” added Mr. Outwood with spirit, catching sight of a +Good-Gracious-has-the-man-<i>no</i>-sense look on the other’s face, “why he +should not do so if he wishes it.” +</p> + +<p>“Exactly, sir,” said Psmith, +approvingly. “You have touched the spot.”</p> + +<p>“If I must explain again, my +dear Outwood, will you kindly give me your attention +for a moment. Last night a boy broke out of your +house, and painted my dog Sampson red.”</p> + +<p>“He painted—!” said Mr. Outwood, +round-eyed. “Why?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why. +At any rate, he did. During the escapade one of +his boots was splashed with the paint. It is +that boot which I believe Smith to be concealing in +this cupboard. Now, do you understand?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Outwood looked amazedly at Smith, +and Psmith shook his head sorrowfully at Mr. Outwood. +Psmith’s expression said, as plainly as if he +had spoken the words, “We must humour him.”</p> + +<p>“So with your permission, as +Smith declares that he has lost the key, I propose +to break open the door of this cupboard. Have +you any objection?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Outwood started.</p> + +<p>“Objection? None at all, +my dear fellow, none at all. Let me see, <i>what</i> +is it you wish to do?”</p> + +<p>“This,” said Mr. Downing shortly.</p> + +<p>There was a pair of dumb-bells on +the floor, belonging to Mike. He never used them, +but they always managed to get themselves packed with +the rest of his belongings on the last day of the holidays. +Mr. Downing seized one of these, and delivered two +rapid blows at the cupboard-door. The wood splintered. +A third blow smashed the flimsy lock. The cupboard, +with any skeletons it might contain, was open for +all to view.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing uttered a cry of triumph, +and tore the boot from its resting-place.</p> + +<p>“I told you,” he said. “I told +you.”</p> + +<p>“I wondered where that boot +had got to,” said Psmith. “I’ve +been looking for it for days.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing was examining his find. +He looked up with an exclamation of surprise and wrath.</p> + +<p>“This boot has no paint on it,” +he said, glaring at Psmith. “This is not +the boot.”</p> + +<p>“It certainly appears, sir,” +said Psmith sympathetically, “to be free from +paint. There’s a sort of reddish glow just +there, if you look at it sideways,” he added +helpfully.</p> + +<p>“Did you place that boot there, Smith?”</p> + +<p>“I must have done. Then, when I lost the +key——”</p> + +<p>“Are you satisfied now, Downing?” +interrupted Mr. Outwood with asperity, “or is +there any more furniture you wish to break?”</p> + +<p>The excitement of seeing his household +goods smashed with a dumb-bell had made the archaeological +student quite a swashbuckler for the moment. +A little more, and one could imagine him giving Mr. +Downing a good, hard knock.</p> + +<p>The sleuth-hound stood still for a +moment, baffled. But his brain was working with +the rapidity of a buzz-saw. A chance remark of +Mr. Outwood’s set him fizzing off on the trail +once more. Mr. Outwood had caught sight of the +little pile of soot in the grate. He bent down +to inspect it.</p> + +<p>“Dear me,” he said, “I +must remember to have the chimneys swept. It +should have been done before.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing’s eye, rolling in +a fine frenzy from heaven to earth, from earth to +heaven, also focussed itself on the pile of soot; and +a thrill went through him. Soot in the fireplace! +Smith washing his hands! (“You know my methods, my +dear Watson. Apply them.”)</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing’s mind at that moment +contained one single thought; and that thought was +“What ho for the chimney!”</p> + +<p>He dived forward with a rush, nearly +knocking Mr. Outwood off his feet, and thrust an arm +up into the unknown. An avalanche of soot fell +upon his hand and wrist, but he ignored it, for at +the same instant his fingers had closed upon what +he was seeking.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” he said. “I +thought as much. You were not quite clever enough, +after all, Smith.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said Psmith +patiently. “We all make mistakes.”</p> + +<p>“You would have done better, +Smith, not to have given me all this trouble. +You have done yourself no good by it.”</p> + +<p>“It’s been great fun, though, sir,” +argued Psmith.</p> + +<p>“Fun!” Mr. Downing laughed +grimly. “You may have reason to change your +opinion of what constitutes——”</p> + +<p>His voice failed as his eye fell on +the all-black toe of the boot. He looked up, +and caught Psmith’s benevolent gaze. He +straightened himself and brushed a bead of perspiration +from his face with the back of his hand. Unfortunately, +he used the sooty hand, and the result was like some +gruesome burlesque of a nigger minstrel.</p> + +<p>“Did—you—put—that—boot—there, +Smith?” he asked slowly.</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus11"> +<img src="images/jmike11.jpg" alt="“DID—YOU—PUT—THAT—BOOT—THERE, SMITH?”" /> +</a></p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Then what did you <i>MEAN</i> +by putting it there?” roared Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>“Animal spirits, sir,” said Psmith.</p> + +<p>“WHAT!”</p> + +<p>“Animal spirits, sir.”</p> + +<p>What Mr. Downing would have replied +to this one cannot tell, though one can guess roughly. +For, just as he was opening his mouth, Mr. Outwood, +catching sight of his Chirgwin-like countenance, intervened.</p> + +<p>“My dear Downing,” he +said, “your face. It is positively covered +with soot, positively. You must come and wash +it. You are quite black. Really, you present +a most curious appearance, most. Let me show you +the way to my room.”</p> + +<p>In all times of storm and tribulation +there comes a breaking-point, a point where the spirit +definitely refuses to battle any longer against the +slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Mr. Downing +could not bear up against this crowning blow. +He went down beneath it. In the language of the +Ring, he took the count. It was the knock-out.</p> + +<p>“Soot!” he murmured weakly. “Soot!”</p> + +<p>“Your face is covered, my dear fellow, quite +covered.”</p> + +<p>“It certainly has a faintly sooty aspect, sir,” +said Psmith.</p> + +<p>His voice roused the sufferer to one last flicker +of spirit.</p> + +<p>“You will hear more of this, +Smith,” he said. “I say you will hear +more of it.”</p> + +<p>Then he allowed Mr. Outwood to lead +him out to a place where there were towels, soap, +and sponges.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When they had gone, Psmith went to +the window, and hauled in the string. He felt +the calm after-glow which comes to the general after +a successfully conducted battle. It had been +trying, of course, for a man of refinement, and it +had cut into his afternoon, but on the whole it had +been worth it.</p> + +<p>The problem now was what to do with +the painted boot. It would take a lot of cleaning, +he saw, even if he could get hold of the necessary +implements for cleaning it. And he rather doubted +if he would be able to do so. Edmund, the boot-boy, +worked in some mysterious cell, far from the madding +crowd, at the back of the house. In the boot-cupboard +downstairs there would probably be nothing likely to +be of any use.</p> + +<p>His fears were realised. The +boot-cupboard was empty. It seemed to him that, +for the time being, the best thing he could do would +be to place the boot in safe hiding, until he should +have thought out a scheme.</p> + +<p>Having restored the basket to its +proper place, accordingly, he went up to the study +again, and placed the red-toed boot in the chimney, +at about the same height where Mr. Downing had found +the other. Nobody would think of looking there +a second time, and it was improbable that Mr. Outwood +really would have the chimneys swept, as he had said. +The odds were that he had forgotten about it already.</p> + +<p>Psmith went to the bathroom to wash +his hands again, with the feeling that he had done +a good day’s work.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch52"> +CHAPTER LII<br/><br/> +ON THE TRAIL AGAIN</a></h3> + +<p>The most massive minds are apt to +forget things at times. The most adroit plotters +make their little mistakes. Psmith was no exception +to the rule. He made the mistake of not telling +Mike of the afternoon’s happenings.</p> + +<p>It was not altogether forgetfulness. +Psmith was one of those people who like to carry through +their operations entirely by themselves. Where +there is only one in a secret the secret is more liable +to remain unrevealed. There was nothing, he thought, +to be gained from telling Mike. He forgot what +the consequences might be if he did not.</p> + +<p>So Psmith kept his own counsel, with +the result that Mike went over to school on the Monday +morning in pumps.</p> + +<p>Edmund, summoned from the hinterland +of the house to give his opinion why only one of Mike’s +boots was to be found, had no views on the subject. +He seemed to look on it as one of those things which +no fellow can understand.</p> + +<p>“’Ere’s one of ’em, +Mr. Jackson,” he said, as if he hoped that Mike +might be satisfied with a compromise.</p> + +<p>“One? What’s the +good of that, Edmund, you chump? I can’t +go over to school in one boot.”</p> + +<p>Edmund turned this over in his mind, +and then said, “No, sir,” as much as to +say, “I may have lost a boot, but, thank goodness, +I can still understand sound reasoning.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what am I to do? Where is the other +boot?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know, Mr. Jackson,” replied +Edmund to both questions.</p> + +<p>“Well, I mean—Oh, dash it, there’s +the bell.”</p> + +<p>And Mike sprinted off in the pumps he stood in.</p> + +<p>It is only a deviation from those +ordinary rules of school life, which one observes +naturally and without thinking, that enables one to +realise how strong public-school prejudices really +are. At a school, for instance, where the regulations +say that coats only of black or dark blue are to be +worn, a boy who appears one day in even the most respectable +and unostentatious brown finds himself looked on with +a mixture of awe and repulsion, which would be excessive +if he had sand-bagged the headmaster. So in the +case of boots. School rules decree that a boy +shall go to his form-room in boots, There is no real +reason why, if the day is fine, he should not wear +shoes, should he prefer them. But, if he does, +the thing creates a perfect sensation. Boys say, +“Great Scott, what <i>have</i> you got on?” +Masters say, “Jones, <i>what</i> are you wearing +on your feet?” In the few minutes which elapse +between the assembling of the form for call-over and +the arrival of the form-master, some wag is sure either +to stamp on the shoes, accompanying the act with some +satirical remark, or else to pull one of them off, +and inaugurate an impromptu game of football with +it. There was once a boy who went to school one +morning in elastic-sided boots....</p> + +<p>Mike had always been coldly distant +in his relations to the rest of his form, looking +on them, with a few exceptions, as worms; and the +form, since his innings against Downing’s on +the Friday, had regarded Mike with respect. So +that he escaped the ragging he would have had to undergo +at Wrykyn in similar circumstances. It was only +Mr. Downing who gave trouble.</p> + +<p>There is a sort of instinct which +enables some masters to tell when a boy in their form +is wearing shoes instead of boots, just as people +who dislike cats always know when one is in a room +with them. They cannot see it, but they feel +it in their bones.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing was perhaps the most bigoted +anti-shoeist in the whole list of English schoolmasters. +He waged war remorselessly against shoes. Satire, +abuse, lines, detention—every weapon was +employed by him in dealing with their wearers. +It had been the late Dunster’s practice always +to go over to school in shoes when, as he usually did, +he felt shaky in the morning’s lesson. Mr. +Downing always detected him in the first five minutes, +and that meant a lecture of anything from ten minutes +to a quarter of an hour on Untidy Habits and Boys Who +Looked like Loafers—which broke the back +of the morning’s work nicely. On one occasion, +when a particularly tricky bit of Livy was on the +bill of fare, Dunster had entered the form-room in +heel-less Turkish bath-slippers, of a vivid crimson; +and the subsequent proceedings, including his journey +over to the house to change the heel-less atrocities, +had seen him through very nearly to the quarter to +eleven interval.</p> + +<p>Mike, accordingly, had not been in +his place for three minutes when Mr. Downing, stiffening +like a pointer, called his name.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“<i>What</i> are you wearing on your feet, Jackson?”</p> + +<p>“Pumps, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You are wearing pumps? +Are you not aware that PUMPS are not the proper things +to come to school in? Why are you wearing <i>PUMPS</i>?”</p> + +<p>The form, leaning back against the +next row of desks, settled itself comfortably for +the address from the throne.</p> + +<p>“I have lost one of my boots, sir.”</p> + +<p>A kind of gulp escaped from Mr. Downing’s +lips. He stared at Mike for a moment in silence. +Then, turning to Stone, he told him to start translating.</p> + +<p>Stone, who had been expecting at least +ten minutes’ respite, was taken unawares. +When he found the place in his book and began to construe, +he floundered hopelessly. But, to his growing +surprise and satisfaction, the form-master appeared +to notice nothing wrong. He said “Yes, +yes,” mechanically, and finally “That will +do,” whereupon Stone resumed his seat with the +feeling that the age of miracles had returned.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing’s mind was in a +whirl. His case was complete. Mike’s +appearance in shoes, with the explanation that he had +lost a boot, completed the chain. As Columbus +must have felt when his ship ran into harbour, and +the first American interviewer, jumping on board, said, +“Wal, sir, and what are your impressions of our +glorious country?” so did Mr. Downing feel at +that moment.</p> + +<p>When the bell rang at a quarter to +eleven, he gathered up his gown, and sped to the headmaster.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch53"> +CHAPTER LIII<br/><br/> +THE KETTLE METHOD</a></h3> + +<p>It was during the interval that day +that Stone and Robinson, discussing the subject of +cricket over a bun and ginger-beer at the school shop, +came to a momentous decision, to wit, that they were +fed up with Adair administration and meant to strike. +The immediate cause of revolt was early-morning fielding-practice, +that searching test of cricket keenness. Mike +himself, to whom cricket was the great and serious +interest of life, had shirked early-morning fielding-practice +in his first term at Wrykyn. And Stone and Robinson +had but a luke-warm attachment to the game, compared +with Mike’s.</p> + +<p>As a rule, Adair had contented himself +with practice in the afternoon after school, which +nobody objects to; and no strain, consequently, had +been put upon Stone’s and Robinson’s allegiance. +In view of the M.C.C. match on the Wednesday, however, +he had now added to this an extra dose to be taken +before breakfast. Stone and Robinson had left +their comfortable beds that day at six o’clock, +yawning and heavy-eyed, and had caught catches and +fielded drives which, in the cool morning air, had +stung like adders and bitten like serpents. Until +the sun has really got to work, it is no joke taking +a high catch. Stone’s dislike of the experiment +was only equalled by Robinson’s. They were +neither of them of the type which likes to undergo +hardships for the common good. They played well +enough when on the field, but neither cared greatly +whether the school had a good season or not. They +played the game entirely for their own sakes.</p> + +<p>The result was that they went back +to the house for breakfast with a never-again feeling, +and at the earliest possible moment met to debate +as to what was to be done about it. At all costs +another experience like to-day’s must be avoided.</p> + +<p>“It’s all rot,” +said Stone. “What on earth’s the good +of sweating about before breakfast? It only makes +you tired.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t wonder,” +said Robinson, “if it wasn’t bad for the +heart. Rushing about on an empty stomach, I mean, +and all that sort of thing.”</p> + +<p>“Personally,” said Stone, +gnawing his bun, “I don’t intend to stick +it.”</p> + +<p>“Nor do I.”</p> + +<p>“I mean, it’s such absolute +rot. If we aren’t good enough to play for +the team without having to get up overnight to catch +catches, he’d better find somebody else.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>At this moment Adair came into the shop.</p> + +<p>“Fielding-practice again to-morrow,” he +said briskly, “at six.”</p> + +<p>“Before breakfast?” said Robinson.</p> + +<p>“Rather. You two must buck +up, you know. You were rotten to-day.” +And he passed on, leaving the two malcontents speechless.</p> + +<p>Stone was the first to recover.</p> + +<p>“I’m hanged if I turn out to-morrow,” +he said, as they left the shop. “He can do what he likes about it. Besides, +what can he do, after all? Only kick us out of the team. And I don’t +mind that.”</p> + +<p>“Nor do I.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think he will +kick us out, either. He can’t play the M.C.C. +with a scratch team. If he does, we’ll go +and play for that village Jackson plays for. +We’ll get Jackson to shove us into the team.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Robinson. “Let’s.”</p> + +<p>Their position was a strong one. +A cricket captain may seem to be an autocrat of tremendous +power, but in reality he has only one weapon, the +keenness of those under him. With the majority, +of course, the fear of being excluded or ejected from +a team is a spur that drives. The majority, consequently, +are easily handled. But when a cricket captain +runs up against a boy who does not much care whether +he plays for the team or not, then he finds himself +in a difficult position, and, unless he is a man of +action, practically helpless.</p> + +<p>Stone and Robinson felt secure. +Taking it all round, they felt that they would just +as soon play for Lower Borlock as for the school. +The bowling of the opposition would be weaker in the +former case, and the chance of making runs greater. +To a certain type of cricketer runs are runs, wherever +and however made.</p> + +<p>The result of all this was that Adair, +turning out with the team next morning for fielding-practice, +found himself two short. Barnes was among those +present, but of the other two representatives of Outwood’s +house there were no signs.</p> + +<p>Barnes, questioned on the subject, +had no information to give, beyond the fact that he +had not seen them about anywhere. Which was not +a great help. Adair proceeded with the fielding-practice +without further delay.</p> + +<p>At breakfast that morning he was silent +and apparently wrapped in thought. Mr. Downing, +who sat at the top of the table with Adair on his +right, was accustomed at the morning meal to blend +nourishment of the body with that of the mind. +As a rule he had ten minutes with the daily paper +before the bell rang, and it was his practice to hand +on the results of his reading to Adair and the other +house-prefects, who, not having seen the paper, usually +formed an interested and appreciative audience. +To-day, however, though the house-prefects expressed +varying degrees of excitement at the news that Tyldesley +had made a century against Gloucestershire, and that +a butter famine was expected in the United States, +these world-shaking news-items seemed to leave Adair +cold. He champed his bread and marmalade with +an abstracted air.</p> + +<p>He was wondering what to do in this +matter of Stone and Robinson.</p> + +<p>Many captains might have passed the +thing over. To take it for granted that the missing +pair had overslept themselves would have been a safe +and convenient way out of the difficulty. But +Adair was not the sort of person who seeks for safe +and convenient ways out of difficulties. He never +shirked anything, physical or moral.</p> + +<p>He resolved to interview the absentees.</p> + +<p>It was not until after school that +an opportunity offered itself. He went across +to Outwood’s and found the two non-starters in +the senior day-room, engaged in the intellectual pursuit +of kicking the wall and marking the height of each +kick with chalk. Adair’s entrance coincided +with a record effort by Stone, which caused the kicker +to overbalance and stagger backwards against the captain.</p> + +<p>“Sorry,” said Stone. “Hullo, +Adair!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t mention it. +Why weren’t you two at fielding-practice this +morning?”</p> + +<p>Robinson, who left the lead to Stone +in all matters, said nothing. Stone spoke.</p> + +<p>“We didn’t turn up,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I know you didn’t. Why not?”</p> + +<p>Stone had rehearsed this scene in +his mind, and he spoke with the coolness which comes +from rehearsal.</p> + +<p>“We decided not to.”</p> + +<p>“Oh?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. We came to the conclusion +that we hadn’t any use for early-morning fielding.”</p> + +<p>Adair’s manner became ominously calm.</p> + +<p>“You were rather fed-up, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“That’s just the word.”</p> + +<p>“Sorry it bored you.”</p> + +<p>“It didn’t. We didn’t give +it the chance to.”</p> + +<p>Robinson laughed appreciatively.</p> + +<p>“What’s the joke, Robinson?” asked +Adair.</p> + +<p>“There’s no joke,” +said Robinson, with some haste. “I was only +thinking of something.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you something else to think +about soon.”</p> + +<p>Stone intervened.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good making a +row about it, Adair. You must see that you can’t +do anything. Of course, you can kick us out of +the team, if you like, but we don’t care if +you do. Jackson will get us a game any Wednesday +or Saturday for the village he plays for. So we’re +all right. And the school team aren’t such +a lot of flyers that you can afford to go chucking +people out of it whenever you want to. See what +I mean?”</p> + +<p>“You and Jackson seem to have fixed it all up +between you.”</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do? Kick us out?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Good. I thought you’d +see it was no good making a beastly row. We’ll +play for the school all right. There’s no +earthly need for us to turn out for fielding-practice +before breakfast.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t think there +is? You may be right. All the same, you’re +going to to-morrow morning.”</p> + +<p>“What!”</p> + +<p>“Six sharp. Don’t be late.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be an ass, Adair. We’ve +told you we aren’t going to.”</p> + +<p>“That’s only your opinion. +I think you are. I’ll give you till five +past six, as you seem to like lying in bed.”</p> + +<p>“You can turn out if you feel like it. +You won’t find me there.”</p> + +<p>“That’ll be a disappointment. Nor +Robinson?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the junior +partner in the firm; but he said it without any deep +conviction. The atmosphere was growing a great +deal too tense for his comfort.</p> + +<p>“You’ve quite made up your minds?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Stone.</p> + +<p>“Right,” said Adair quietly, and knocked +him down.</p> + +<p>He was up again in a moment. +Adair had pushed the table back, and was standing +in the middle of the open space.</p> + +<p>“You cad,” said Stone. “I wasn’t +ready.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you are now. Shall we go on?”</p> + +<p>Stone dashed in without a word, and +for a few moments the two might have seemed evenly +matched to a not too intelligent spectator. But +science tells, even in a confined space. Adair +was smaller and lighter than Stone, but he was cooler +and quicker, and he knew more about the game. +His blow was always home a fraction of a second sooner +than his opponent’s. At the end of a minute +Stone was on the floor again.</p> + +<p>He got up slowly and stood leaning with one hand on +the table.</p> + +<p>“Suppose we say ten past six?” +said Adair. “I’m not particular to +a minute or two.”</p> + +<p>Stone made no reply.</p> + +<p>“Will ten past six suit you +for fielding-practice to-morrow?” said Adair.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Stone.</p> + +<p>“Thanks. How about you, Robinson?”</p> + +<p>Robinson had been a petrified spectator +of the Captain-Kettle-like manoeuvres of the cricket +captain, and it did not take him long to make up his +mind. He was not altogether a coward. In +different circumstances he might have put up a respectable +show. But it takes a more than ordinarily courageous +person to embark on a fight which he knows must end +in his destruction. Robinson knew that he was +nothing like a match even for Stone, and Adair had +disposed of Stone in a little over one minute. +It seemed to Robinson that neither pleasure nor profit +was likely to come from an encounter with Adair.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said hastily, “I’ll +turn up.”</p> + +<p>“Good,” said Adair. +“I wonder if either of you chaps could tell me +which is Jackson’s study.”</p> + +<p>Stone was dabbing at his mouth with +a handkerchief, a task which precluded anything in +the shape of conversation; so Robinson replied that +Mike’s study was the first you came to on the +right of the corridor at the top of the stairs.</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Adair. +“You don’t happen to know if he’s +in, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“He went up with Smith a quarter +of an hour ago. I don’t know if he’s +still there.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll go and see,” +said Adair. “I should like a word with him +if he isn’t busy.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch54"> +CHAPTER LIV<br/><br/> +ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE</a></h3> + +<p>Mike, all unconscious of the stirring +proceedings which had been going on below stairs, +was peacefully reading a letter he had received that +morning from Strachan at Wrykyn, in which the successor +to the cricket captaincy which should have been Mike’s +had a good deal to say in a lugubrious strain. +In Mike’s absence things had been going badly +with Wrykyn. A broken arm, contracted in the +course of some rash experiments with a day-boy’s +motor-bicycle, had deprived the team of the services +of Dunstable, the only man who had shown any signs +of being able to bowl a side out. Since this +calamity, wrote Strachan, everything had gone wrong. +The M.C.C., led by Mike’s brother Reggie, the +least of the three first-class-cricketing Jacksons, +had smashed them by a hundred and fifty runs. +Geddington had wiped them off the face of the earth. +The Incogs, with a team recruited exclusively from +the rabbit-hutch—not a well-known man on +the side except Stacey, a veteran who had been playing +for the club since Fuller Pilch’s time—had +got home by two wickets. In fact, it was Strachan’s +opinion that the Wrykyn team that summer was about +the most hopeless gang of dead-beats that had ever +made an exhibition of itself on the school grounds. +The Ripton match, fortunately, was off, owing to an +outbreak of mumps at that shrine of learning and athletics—the +second outbreak of the malady in two terms. Which, +said Strachan, was hard lines on Ripton, but a bit +of jolly good luck for Wrykyn, as it had saved them +from what would probably have been a record hammering, +Ripton having eight of their last year’s team +left, including Dixon, the fast bowler, against whom +Mike alone of the Wrykyn team had been able to make +runs in the previous season. Altogether, Wrykyn +had struck a bad patch.</p> + +<p>Mike mourned over his suffering school. +If only he could have been there to help. It +might have made all the difference. In school +cricket one good batsman, to go in first and knock +the bowlers off their length, may take a weak team +triumphantly through a season. In school cricket +the importance of a good start for the first wicket +is incalculable.</p> + +<p>As he put Strachan’s letter +away in his pocket, all his old bitterness against +Sedleigh, which had been ebbing during the past few +days, returned with a rush. He was conscious +once more of that feeling of personal injury which +had made him hate his new school on the first day +of term.</p> + +<p>And it was at this point, when his +resentment was at its height, that Adair, the concrete +representative of everything Sedleighan, entered the +room.</p> + +<p>There are moments in life’s +placid course when there has got to be the biggest +kind of row. This was one of them.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Psmith, who was leaning against the +mantelpiece, reading the serial story in a daily paper +which he had abstracted from the senior day-room, +made the intruder free of the study with a dignified +wave of the hand, and went on reading. Mike remained +in the deck-chair in which he was sitting, and contented +himself with glaring at the newcomer.</p> + +<p>Psmith was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>“If you ask my candid opinion,” +he said, looking up from his paper, “I should +say that young Lord Antony Trefusis was in the soup +already. I seem to see the <i>consommé</i> splashing +about his ankles. He’s had a note telling +him to be under the oak-tree in the Park at midnight. +He’s just off there at the end of this instalment. +I bet Long Jack, the poacher, is waiting there with +a sandbag. Care to see the paper, Comrade Adair? +Or don’t you take any interest in contemporary +literature?”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Adair. +“I just wanted to speak to Jackson for a minute.”</p> + +<p>“Fate,” said Psmith, “has +led your footsteps to the right place. That is +Comrade Jackson, the Pride of the School, sitting before +you.”</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” said Mike.</p> + +<p>He suspected that Adair had come to +ask him once again to play for the school. The +fact that the M.C.C. match was on the following day +made this a probable solution of the reason for his +visit. He could think of no other errand that +was likely to have set the head of Downing’s +paying afternoon calls.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you in a minute. It won’t +take long.”</p> + +<p>“That,” said Psmith approvingly, +“is right. Speed is the key-note of the +present age. Promptitude. Despatch. +This is no time for loitering. We must be strenuous. +We must hustle. We must Do It Now. We——”</p> + +<p>“Buck up,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said Adair. +“I’ve just been talking to Stone and Robinson.”</p> + +<p>“An excellent way of passing +an idle half-hour,” said Psmith.</p> + +<p>“We weren’t exactly idle,” +said Adair grimly. “It didn’t last +long, but it was pretty lively while it did. +Stone chucked it after the first round.”</p> + +<p>Mike got up out of his chair. +He could not quite follow what all this was about, +but there was no mistaking the truculence of Adair’s +manner. For some reason, which might possibly +be made clear later, Adair was looking for trouble, +and Mike in his present mood felt that it would be +a privilege to see that he got it.</p> + +<p>Psmith was regarding Adair through +his eyeglass with pain and surprise.</p> + +<p>“Surely,” he said, “you +do not mean us to understand that you have been <i>brawling</i> +with Comrade Stone! This is bad hearing. +I thought that you and he were like brothers. +Such a bad example for Comrade Robinson, too. +Leave us, Adair. We would brood. Oh, go thee, +knave, I’ll none of thee. Shakespeare.”</p> + +<p>Psmith turned away, and resting his +elbows on the mantelpiece, gazed at himself mournfully +in the looking-glass.</p> + +<p>“I’m not the man I was,” +he sighed, after a prolonged inspection. “There +are lines on my face, dark circles beneath my eyes. +The fierce rush of life at Sedleigh is wasting me +away.”</p> + +<p>“Stone and I had a discussion +about early-morning fielding-practice,” said +Adair, turning to Mike.</p> + +<p>Mike said nothing.</p> + +<p>“I thought his fielding wanted +working up a bit, so I told him to turn out at six +to-morrow morning. He said he wouldn’t, +so we argued it out. He’s going to all +right. So is Robinson.”</p> + +<p>Mike remained silent.</p> + +<p>“So are you,” added Adair.</p> + +<p>“I get thinner and thinner,” said Psmith +from the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>Mike looked at Adair, and Adair looked +at Mike, after the manner of two dogs before they +fly at one another. There was an electric silence +in the study. Psmith peered with increased earnestness +into the glass.</p> + +<p>“Oh?” said Mike at last. “What +makes you think that?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think. I know.”</p> + +<p>“Any special reason for my turning out?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?”</p> + +<p>“You’re going to play +for the school against the M.C.C. to-morrow, and +I want you to get some practice.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder how you got that idea!”</p> + +<p>“Curious I should have done, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Very. You aren’t building on it +much, are you?” said Mike politely.</p> + +<p>“I am, rather,” replied Adair with equal +courtesy.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so.”</p> + +<p>“My eyes,” said Psmith +regretfully, “are a bit close together. +However,” he added philosophically, “it’s +too late to alter that now.”</p> + +<p>Mike drew a step closer to Adair.</p> + +<p>“What makes you think I shall +play against the M.C.C.?” he asked curiously.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to make you.”</p> + +<p>Mike took another step forward. Adair moved to +meet him.</p> + +<p>“Would you care to try now?” said Mike.</p> + +<p>For just one second the two drew themselves +together preparatory to beginning the serious business +of the interview, and in that second Psmith, turning +from the glass, stepped between them.</p> + +<p>“Get out of the light, Smith,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>Psmith waved him back with a deprecating gesture.</p> + +<p>“My dear young friends,” +he said placidly, “if you <i>will</i> let your +angry passions rise, against the direct advice of Doctor +Watts, I suppose you must. But when you propose to +claw each other in my study, in the midst of a hundred +fragile and priceless ornaments, I lodge a protest. +If you really feel that you want to scrap, for goodness +sake do it where there’s some room. I don’t +want all the study furniture smashed. I know +a bank whereon the wild thyme grows, only a few yards +down the road, where you can scrap all night if you +want to. How would it be to move on there? +Any objections? None? Then shift ho! and +let’s get it over.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch55"> +CHAPTER LV<br/><br/> +CLEARING THE AIR</a></h3> + +<p>Psmith was one of those people who +lend a dignity to everything they touch. Under +his auspices the most unpromising ventures became somehow +enveloped in an atmosphere of measured stateliness. +On the present occasion, what would have been, without +his guiding hand, a mere unscientific scramble, took +on something of the impressive formality of the National +Sporting Club.</p> + +<p>“The rounds,” he said, +producing a watch, as they passed through a gate into +a field a couple of hundred yards from the house gate, +“will be of three minutes’ duration, with +a minute rest in between. A man who is down will +have ten seconds in which to rise. Are you ready, +Comrades Adair and Jackson? Very well, then. +Time.”</p> + +<p>After which, it was a pity that the +actual fight did not quite live up to its referee’s +introduction. Dramatically, there should have +been cautious sparring for openings and a number of +tensely contested rounds, as if it had been the final +of a boxing competition. But school fights, when +they do occur—which is only once in a decade +nowadays, unless you count junior school scuffles—are +the outcome of weeks of suppressed bad blood, and +are consequently brief and furious. In a boxing +competition, however much one may want to win, one +does not dislike one’s opponent. Up to +the moment when “time” was called, one +was probably warmly attached to him, and at the end +of the last round one expects to resume that attitude +of mind. In a fight each party, as a rule, hates +the other.</p> + +<p>So it happened that there was nothing +formal or cautious about the present battle. +All Adair wanted was to get at Mike, and all Mike +wanted was to get at Adair. Directly Psmith called +“time,” they rushed together as if they +meant to end the thing in half a minute.</p> + +<p>It was this that saved Mike. +In an ordinary contest with the gloves, with his opponent +cool and boxing in his true form, he could not have +lasted three rounds against Adair. The latter +was a clever boxer, while Mike had never had a lesson +in his life. If Adair had kept away and used +his head, nothing could have prevented him winning.</p> + +<p>As it was, however, he threw away +his advantages, much as Tom Brown did at the beginning +of his fight with Slogger Williams, and the result +was the same as on that historic occasion. Mike +had the greater strength, and, thirty seconds from +the start, knocked his man clean off his feet with +an unscientific but powerful right-hander.</p> + +<p>This finished Adair’s chances. +He rose full of fight, but with all the science knocked +out of him. He went in at Mike with both hands. +The Irish blood in him, which for the ordinary events +of life made him merely energetic and dashing, now +rendered him reckless. He abandoned all attempt +at guarding. It was the Frontal Attack in its +most futile form, and as unsuccessful as a frontal +attack is apt to be. There was a swift exchange +of blows, in the course of which Mike’s left +elbow, coming into contact with his opponent’s +right fist, got a shock which kept it tingling for +the rest of the day; and then Adair went down in a +heap.</p> + +<p>He got up slowly and with difficulty. +For a moment he stood blinking vaguely. Then +he lurched forward at Mike.</p> + +<p>In the excitement of a fight—which +is, after all, about the most exciting thing that +ever happens to one in the course of one’s life—it +is difficult for the fighters to see what the spectators +see. Where the spectators see an assault on an +already beaten man, the fighter himself only sees +a legitimate piece of self-defence against an opponent +whose chances are equal to his own. Psmith saw, +as anybody looking on would have seen, that Adair +was done. Mike’s blow had taken him within +a fraction of an inch of the point of the jaw, and +he was all but knocked out. Mike could not see +this. All he understood was that his man was +on his feet again and coming at him, so he hit out +with all his strength; and this time Adair went down +and stayed down.</p> + +<p>“Brief,” said Psmith, +coming forward, “but exciting. We may take +that, I think, to be the conclusion of the entertainment. +I will now have a dash at picking up the slain. +I shouldn’t stop, if I were you. He’ll +be sitting up and taking notice soon, and if he sees +you he may want to go on with the combat, which would +do him no earthly good. If it’s going to +be continued in our next, there had better be a bit +of an interval for alterations and repairs first.”</p> + +<p>“Is he hurt much, do you think?” +asked Mike. He had seen knock-outs before in +the ring, but this was the first time he had ever effected +one on his own account, and Adair looked unpleasantly +corpse-like.</p> + +<p>“<i>He’s</i> all right,” +said Psmith. “In a minute or two he’ll +be skipping about like a little lambkin. I’ll +look after him. You go away and pick flowers.”</p> + +<p>Mike put on his coat and walked back +to the house. He was conscious of a perplexing +whirl of new and strange emotions, chief among which +was a curious feeling that he rather liked Adair. +He found himself thinking that Adair was a good chap, +that there was something to be said for his point +of view, and that it was a pity he had knocked him +about so much. At the same time, he felt an undeniable +thrill of pride at having beaten him. The feat +presented that interesting person, Mike Jackson, to +him in a fresh and pleasing light, as one who had had +a tough job to face and had carried it through. +Jackson, the cricketer, he knew, but Jackson, the +deliverer of knock-out blows, was strange to him, +and he found this new acquaintance a man to be respected.</p> + +<p>The fight, in fact, had the result +which most fights have, if they are fought fairly +and until one side has had enough. It revolutionised +Mike’s view of things. It shook him up, +and drained the bad blood out of him. Where, +before, he had seemed to himself to be acting with +massive dignity, he now saw that he had simply been +sulking like some wretched kid. There had appeared +to him something rather fine in his policy of refusing +to identify himself in any way with Sedleigh, a touch +of the stone-walls-do-not-a-prison-make sort of thing. +He now saw that his attitude was to be summed up in +the words, “Sha’n’t play.”</p> + +<p>It came upon Mike with painful clearness +that he had been making an ass of himself.</p> + +<p>He had come to this conclusion, after +much earnest thought, when Psmith entered the study.</p> + +<p>“How’s Adair?” asked Mike.</p> + +<p>“Sitting up and taking nourishment +once more. We have been chatting. He’s +not a bad cove.”</p> + +<p>“He’s all right,” said Mike.</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Psmith straightened his tie.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he said, +“I seldom interfere in terrestrial strife, but +it seems to me that there’s an opening here for +a capable peace-maker, not afraid of work, and willing +to give his services in exchange for a comfortable +home. Comrade Adair’s rather a stoutish +fellow in his way. I’m not much on the +‘Play up for the old school, Jones,’ game, +but every one to his taste. I shouldn’t +have thought anybody would get overwhelmingly attached +to this abode of wrath, but Comrade Adair seems to +have done it. He’s all for giving Sedleigh +a much-needed boost-up. It’s not a bad +idea in its way. I don’t see why one shouldn’t +humour him. Apparently he’s been sweating +since early childhood to buck the school up. +And as he’s leaving at the end of the term, +it mightn’t be a scaly scheme to give him a bit +of a send-off, if possible, by making the cricket +season a bit of a banger. As a start, why not +drop him a line to say that you’ll play against +the M.C.C. to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>Mike did not reply at once. He +was feeling better disposed towards Adair and Sedleigh +than he had felt, but he was not sure that he was +quite prepared to go as far as a complete climb-down.</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t be a bad +idea,” continued Psmith. “There’s +nothing like giving a man a bit in every now and then. +It broadens the soul and improves the action of the +skin. What seems to have fed up Comrade Adair, +to a certain extent, is that Stone apparently led him +to understand that you had offered to give him and +Robinson places in your village team. You didn’t, +of course?”</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” said Mike indignantly.</p> + +<p>“I told him he didn’t +know the old <i>noblesse oblige</i> spirit of the +Jacksons. I said that you would scorn to tarnish +the Jackson escutcheon by not playing the game. +My eloquence convinced him. However, to return +to the point under discussion, why not?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t—What I mean to say—” +began Mike.</p> + +<p>“If your trouble is,” +said Psmith, “that you fear that you may be in +unworthy company——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be an ass.”</p> + +<p>“——Dismiss it. <i>I</i> am +playing.”</p> + +<p>Mike stared.</p> + +<p>“You’re what? You?”</p> + +<p>“I,” said Psmith, breathing +on a coat-button, and polishing it with his handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“Can you play cricket?”</p> + +<p>“You have discovered,” said Psmith, “my +secret sorrow.”</p> + +<p>“You’re rotting.”</p> + +<p>“You wrong me, Comrade Jackson.”</p> + +<p>“Then why haven’t you played?”</p> + +<p>“Why haven’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you come and play for Lower +Borlock, I mean?”</p> + +<p>“The last time I played in a +village cricket match I was caught at point by a man +in braces. It would have been madness to risk +another such shock to my system. My nerves are +so exquisitely balanced that a thing of that sort +takes years off my life.”</p> + +<p>“No, but look here, Smith, bar +rotting. Are you really any good at cricket?”</p> + +<p>“Competent judges at Eton gave +me to understand so. I was told that this year +I should be a certainty for Lord’s. But +when the cricket season came, where was I? Gone. +Gone like some beautiful flower that withers in the +night.”</p> + +<p>“But you told me you didn’t +like cricket. You said you only liked watching +it.”</p> + +<p>“Quite right. I do. +But at schools where cricket is compulsory you have +to overcome your private prejudices. And in time +the thing becomes a habit. Imagine my feelings +when I found that I was degenerating, little by little, +into a slow left-hand bowler with a swerve. I +fought against it, but it was useless, and after a +while I gave up the struggle, and drifted with the +stream. Last year, in a house match”—Psmith’s +voice took on a deeper tone of melancholy—“I +took seven for thirteen in the second innings on a +hard wicket. I did think, when I came here, that +I had found a haven of rest, but it was not to be. +I turn out to-morrow. What Comrade Outwood will +say, when he finds that his keenest archaeological +disciple has deserted, I hate to think. However——”</p> + +<p>Mike felt as if a young and powerful +earthquake had passed. The whole face of his +world had undergone a quick change. Here was he, +the recalcitrant, wavering on the point of playing +for the school, and here was Psmith, the last person +whom he would have expected to be a player, stating +calmly that he had been in the running for a place +in the Eton eleven.</p> + +<p>Then in a flash Mike understood. +He was not by nature intuitive, but he read Psmith’s +mind now. Since the term began, he and Psmith +had been acting on precisely similar motives. +Just as he had been disappointed of the captaincy +of cricket at Wrykyn, so had Psmith been disappointed +of his place in the Eton team at Lord’s. +And they had both worked it off, each in his own way—Mike +sullenly, Psmith whimsically, according to their respective +natures—on Sedleigh.</p> + +<p>If Psmith, therefore, did not consider +it too much of a climb-down to renounce his resolution +not to play for Sedleigh, there was nothing to stop +Mike doing so, as—at the bottom of his heart—he +wanted to do.</p> + +<p>“By Jove,” he said, “if +you’re playing, I’ll play. I’ll +write a note to Adair now. But, I say—” +he stopped—“I’m hanged if I’m +going to turn out and field before breakfast to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right. +You won’t have to. Adair won’t be +there himself. He’s not playing against +the M.C.C. He’s sprained his wrist.”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch56"> +CHAPTER LVI<br/><br/> +IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED</a></h3> + +<p>“Sprained his wrist?” said Mike. +“How did he do that?”</p> + +<p>“During the brawl. Apparently +one of his efforts got home on your elbow instead +of your expressive countenance, and whether it was +that your elbow was particularly tough or his wrist +particularly fragile, I don’t know. Anyhow, +it went. It’s nothing bad, but it’ll +keep him out of the game to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“I say, what beastly rough luck! +I’d no idea. I’ll go round.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bad scheme. Close +the door gently after you, and if you see anybody +downstairs who looks as if he were likely to be going +over to the shop, ask him to get me a small pot of +some rare old jam and tell the man to chalk it up +to me. The jam Comrade Outwood supplies to us +at tea is all right as a practical joke or as a food +for those anxious to commit suicide, but useless to +anybody who values life.”</p> + +<p>On arriving at Mr. Downing’s +and going to Adair’s study, Mike found that +his late antagonist was out. He left a note informing +him of his willingness to play in the morrow’s +match. The lock-up bell rang as he went out of +the house.</p> + +<p>A spot of rain fell on his hand. +A moment later there was a continuous patter, as the +storm, which had been gathering all day, broke in +earnest. Mike turned up his coat-collar, and ran +back to Outwood’s. “At this rate,” +he said to himself, “there won’t be a match +at all to-morrow.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When the weather decides, after behaving +well for some weeks, to show what it can do in another +direction, it does the thing thoroughly. When +Mike woke the next morning the world was grey and dripping. +Leaden-coloured clouds drifted over the sky, till there +was not a trace of blue to be seen, and then the rain +began again, in the gentle, determined way rain has +when it means to make a day of it.</p> + +<p>It was one of those bad days when +one sits in the pavilion, damp and depressed, while +figures in mackintoshes, with discoloured buckskin +boots, crawl miserably about the field in couples.</p> + +<p>Mike, shuffling across to school in +a Burberry, met Adair at Downing’s gate.</p> + +<p>These moments are always difficult. +Mike stopped—he could hardly walk on as +if nothing had happened—and looked down +at his feet.</p> + +<p>“Coming across?” he said awkwardly.</p> + +<p>“Right ho!” said Adair.</p> + +<p>They walked on in silence.</p> + +<p>“It’s only about ten to, isn’t it?” +said Mike.</p> + +<p>Adair fished out his watch, and examined +it with an elaborate care born of nervousness.</p> + +<p>“About nine to.”</p> + +<p>“Good. We’ve got plenty of time.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I hate having to hurry over to school.”</p> + +<p>“So do I.”</p> + +<p>“I often do cut it rather fine, though.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. So do I.”</p> + +<p>“Beastly nuisance when one does.”</p> + +<p>“Beastly.”</p> + +<p>“It’s only about a couple +of minutes from the houses to the school, I should +think, shouldn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Not much more. Might be three.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Three if one didn’t hurry.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, if one didn’t hurry.”</p> + +<p>Another silence.</p> + +<p>“Beastly day,” said Adair.</p> + +<p>“Rotten.”</p> + +<p>Silence again.</p> + +<p>“I say,” said Mike, scowling +at his toes, “awfully sorry about your wrist.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right. It was my +fault.”</p> + +<p>“Does it hurt?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, rather not, thanks.”</p> + +<p>“I’d no idea you’d crocked yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, that’s all right. +It was only right at the end. You’d have +smashed me anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, rot.”</p> + +<p>“I bet you anything you like you would.”</p> + +<p>“I bet you I shouldn’t.... Jolly +hard luck, just before the match.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no.... I say, thanks awfully for saying +you’d play.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, rot.... Do you think we shall get +a game?”</p> + +<p>Adair inspected the sky carefully.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. It looks pretty bad, +doesn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Rotten. I say, how long will your wrist +keep you out of cricket?”</p> + +<p>“Be all right in a week. Less, probably.”</p> + +<p>“Good.”</p> + +<p>“Now that you and Smith are +going to play, we ought to have a jolly good season.”</p> + +<p>“Rummy, Smith turning out to be a cricketer.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I should think he’d be a hot +bowler, with his height.”</p> + +<p>“He must be jolly good if he +was only just out of the Eton team last year.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the time?” asked Mike.</p> + +<p>Adair produced his watch once more.</p> + +<p>“Five to.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve heaps of time.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, heaps.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s stroll on a bit down the road, +shall we?”</p> + +<p>“Right ho!”</p> + +<p>Mike cleared his throat.</p> + +<p>“I say.”</p> + +<p>“Hullo?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been talking to +Smith. He was telling me that you thought I’d +promised to give Stone and Robinson places in the——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, that’s all right. +It was only for a bit. Smith told me you couldn’t +have done, and I saw that I was an ass to think you +could have. It was Stone seeming so dead certain +that he could play for Lower Borlock if I chucked +him from the school team that gave me the idea.”</p> + +<p>“He never even asked me to get him a place.”</p> + +<p>“No, I know.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I wouldn’t have done it, even +if he had.”</p> + +<p>“Of course not.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t want to play +myself, but I wasn’t going to do a rotten trick +like getting other fellows away from the team.”</p> + +<p>“No, I know.”</p> + +<p>“It was rotten enough, really, not playing myself.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no. Beastly rough +luck having to leave Wrykyn just when you were going +to be captain, and come to a small school like this.”</p> + +<p>The excitement of the past few days +must have had a stimulating effect on Mike’s +mind—shaken it up, as it were: for +now, for the second time in two days, he displayed +quite a creditable amount of intuition. He might +have been misled by Adair’s apparently deprecatory +attitude towards Sedleigh, and blundered into a denunciation +of the place. Adair had said “a small school +like this” in the sort of voice which might +have led his hearer to think that he was expected to +say, “Yes, rotten little hole, isn’t it?” +or words to that effect. Mike, fortunately, perceived +that the words were used purely from politeness, on +the Chinese principle. When a Chinaman wishes +to pay a compliment, he does so by belittling himself +and his belongings.</p> + +<p>He eluded the pitfall.</p> + +<p>“What rot!” he said. +“Sedleigh’s one of the most sporting schools +I’ve ever come across. Everybody’s +as keen as blazes. So they ought to be, after +the way you’ve sweated.”</p> + +<p>Adair shuffled awkwardly.</p> + +<p>“I’ve always been fairly +keen on the place,” he said. “But +I don’t suppose I’ve done anything much.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve loosened one of +my front teeth,” said Mike, with a grin, “if +that’s any comfort to you.”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t eat anything +except porridge this morning. My jaw still aches.”</p> + +<p>For the first time during the conversation +their eyes met, and the humorous side of the thing +struck them simultaneously. They began to laugh.</p> + +<p>“What fools we must have looked!” said +Adair.</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i> were all right. +I must have looked rotten. I’ve never had +the gloves on in my life. I’m jolly glad +no one saw us except Smith, who doesn’t count. +Hullo, there’s the bell. We’d better +be moving on. What about this match? Not +much chance of it from the look of the sky at present.”</p> + +<p>“It might clear before eleven. +You’d better get changed, anyhow, at the interval, +and hang about in case.”</p> + +<p>“All right. It’s +better than doing Thucydides with Downing. We’ve +got math, till the interval, so I don’t see +anything of him all day; which won’t hurt me.”</p> + +<p>“He isn’t a bad sort of +chap, when you get to know him,” said Adair.</p> + +<p>“I can’t have done, then. +I don’t know which I’d least soon be, +Downing or a black-beetle, except that if one was Downing +one could tread on the black-beetle. Dash this +rain. I got about half a pint down my neck just +then. We sha’n’t get a game to-day, +of anything like it. As you’re crocked, +I’m not sure that I care much. You’ve +been sweating for years to get the match on, and it +would be rather rot playing it without you.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that so +much. I wish we could play, because I’m +certain, with you and Smith, we’d walk into +them. They probably aren’t sending down +much of a team, and really, now that you and Smith +are turning out, we’ve got a jolly hot lot. +There’s quite decent batting all the way through, +and the bowling isn’t so bad. If only we +could have given this M.C.C. lot a really good hammering, +it might have been easier to get some good fixtures +for next season. You see, it’s all right +for a school like Wrykyn, but with a small place like +this you simply can’t get the best teams to +give you a match till you’ve done something to +show that you aren’t absolute rotters at the +game. As for the schools, they’re worse. +They’d simply laugh at you. You were cricket +secretary at Wrykyn last year. What would you +have done if you’d had a challenge from Sedleigh? +You’d either have laughed till you were sick, +or else had a fit at the mere idea of the thing.”</p> + +<p>Mike stopped.</p> + +<p>“By Jove, you’ve struck +about the brightest scheme on record. I never +thought of it before. Let’s get a match +on with Wrykyn.”</p> + +<p>“What! They wouldn’t play us.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, they would. At least, +I’m pretty sure they would. I had a letter +from Strachan, the captain, yesterday, saying that +the Ripton match had had to be scratched owing to +illness. So they’ve got a vacant date. +Shall I try them? I’ll write to Strachan +to-night, if you like. And they aren’t +strong this year. We’ll smash them. +What do you say?”</p> + +<p>Adair was as one who has seen a vision.</p> + +<p>“By Jove,” he said at last, “if +we only could!”</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch57"> +CHAPTER LVII<br/><br/> +MR. DOWNING MOVES</a></h3> + +<p>The rain continued without a break +all the morning. The two teams, after hanging +about dismally, and whiling the time away with stump-cricket +in the changing-rooms, lunched in the pavilion at +one o’clock. After which the M.C.C. captain, +approaching Adair, moved that this merry meeting be +considered off and himself and his men permitted to +catch the next train back to town. To which Adair, +seeing that it was out of the question that there should +be any cricket that afternoon, regretfully agreed, +and the first Sedleigh <i>v</i>. M.C.C. match +was accordingly scratched.</p> + +<p>Mike and Psmith, wandering back to +the house, were met by a damp junior from Downing’s, +with a message that Mr. Downing wished to see Mike +as soon as he was changed.</p> + +<p>“What’s he want me for?” inquired +Mike.</p> + +<p>The messenger did not know. Mr. +Downing, it seemed, had not confided in him. +All he knew was that the housemaster was in the house, +and would be glad if Mike would step across.</p> + +<p>“A nuisance,” said Psmith, +“this incessant demand for you. That’s +the worst of being popular. If he wants you to +stop to tea, edge away. A meal on rather a sumptuous +scale will be prepared in the study against your return.”</p> + +<p>Mike changed quickly, and went off, +leaving Psmith, who was fond of simple pleasures in +his spare time, earnestly occupied with a puzzle which +had been scattered through the land by a weekly paper. +The prize for a solution was one thousand pounds, +and Psmith had already informed Mike with some minuteness +of his plans for the disposition of this sum. +Meanwhile, he worked at it both in and out of school, +generally with abusive comments on its inventor.</p> + +<p>He was still fiddling away at it when Mike returned.</p> + +<p>Mike, though Psmith was at first too +absorbed to notice it, was agitated.</p> + +<p>“I don’t wish to be in +any way harsh,” said Psmith, without looking +up, “but the man who invented this thing was +a blighter of the worst type. You come and have +a shot. For the moment I am baffled. The +whisper flies round the clubs, ‘Psmith is baffled.’”</p> + +<p>“The man’s an absolute +drivelling ass,” said Mike warmly.</p> + +<p>“Me, do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“What on earth would be the point of my doing +it?”</p> + +<p>“You’d gather in a thousand +of the best. Give you a nice start in life.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not talking about your rotten puzzle.”</p> + +<p>“What are you talking about?”</p> + +<p>“That ass Downing. I believe he’s +off his nut.”</p> + +<p>“Then your chat with Comrade +Downing was not of the old-College-chums-meeting-unexpectedly-after-years’-separation +type? What has he been doing to you?”</p> + +<p>“He’s off his nut.”</p> + +<p>“I know. But what did he +do? How did the brainstorm burst? Did he +jump at you from behind a door and bite a piece out +of your leg, or did he say he was a tea-pot?”</p> + +<p>Mike sat down.</p> + +<p>“You remember that painting Sammy business?”</p> + +<p>“As if it were yesterday,” said Psmith. +“Which it was, pretty nearly.”</p> + +<p>“He thinks I did it.”</p> + +<p>“Why? Have you ever shown any talent in +the painting line?”</p> + +<p>“The silly ass wanted me to +confess that I’d done it. He as good as +asked me to. Jawed a lot of rot about my finding +it to my advantage later on if I behaved sensibly.”</p> + +<p>“Then what are you worrying +about? Don’t you know that when a master +wants you to do the confessing-act, it simply means +that he hasn’t enough evidence to start in on +you with? You’re all right. The thing’s +a stand-off.”</p> + +<p>“Evidence!” said Mike, +“My dear man, he’s got enough evidence +to sink a ship. He’s absolutely sweating +evidence at every pore. As far as I can see, +he’s been crawling about, doing the Sherlock +Holmes business for all he’s worth ever since +the thing happened, and now he’s dead certain +that I painted Sammy.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Did</i> you, by the way?” asked Psmith.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Mike shortly, +“I didn’t. But after listening to +Downing I almost began to wonder if I hadn’t. +The man’s got stacks of evidence to prove that +I did.”</p> + +<p>“Such as what?”</p> + +<p>“It’s mostly about my +boots. But, dash it, you know all about that. +Why, you were with him when he came and looked for +them.”</p> + +<p>“It is true,” said Psmith, +“that Comrade Downing and I spent a very pleasant +half-hour together inspecting boots, but how does he +drag you into it?”</p> + +<p>“He swears one of the boots was splashed with +paint.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. He babbled to some +extent on that point when I was entertaining him. +But what makes him think that the boot, if any, was +yours?”</p> + +<p>“He’s certain that somebody +in this house got one of his boots splashed, and is +hiding it somewhere. And I’m the only chap +in the house who hasn’t got a pair of boots +to show, so he thinks it’s me. I don’t +know where the dickens my other boot has gone. +Edmund swears he hasn’t seen it, and it’s +nowhere about. Of course I’ve got two pairs, +but one’s being soled. So I had to go over +to school yesterday in pumps. That’s how +he spotted me.”</p> + +<p>Psmith sighed.</p> + +<p>“Comrade Jackson,” he +said mournfully, “all this very sad affair shows +the folly of acting from the best motives. In +my simple zeal, meaning to save you unpleasantness, +I have landed you, with a dull, sickening thud, right +in the cart. Are you particular about dirtying +your hands? If you aren’t, just reach up +that chimney a bit?”</p> + +<p>Mike stared, “What the dickens are you talking +about?”</p> + +<p>“Go on. Get it over. Be a man, and +reach up the chimney.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what the +game is,” said Mike, kneeling beside the fender +and groping, “but—<i>Hullo</i>!”</p> + +<p>“Ah ha!” said Psmith moodily.</p> + +<p>Mike dropped the soot-covered object in the fender, +and glared at it.</p> + +<p class="center"><a name="illus12"> +<img src="images/jmike12.jpg" alt="MIKE DROPPED THE SOOT-COVERED OBJECT IN THE FENDER" /> +</a></p> + +<p>“It’s my boot!” he said at last.</p> + +<p>“It <i>is</i>,” said Psmith, +“your boot. And what is that red stain +across the toe? Is it blood? No, ’tis +not blood. It is red paint.”</p> + +<p>Mike seemed unable to remove his eyes from the boot.</p> + +<p>“How on earth did—By +Jove! I remember now. I kicked up against +something in the dark when I was putting my bicycle +back that night. It must have been the paint-pot.”</p> + +<p>“Then you were out that night?”</p> + +<p>“Rather. That’s what +makes it so jolly awkward. It’s too long +to tell you now——”</p> + +<p>“Your stories are never too long for me,” +said Psmith. “Say on!”</p> + +<p>“Well, it was like this.” +And Mike related the events which had led up to his +midnight excursion. Psmith listened attentively.</p> + +<p>“This,” he said, when +Mike had finished, “confirms my frequently stated +opinion that Comrade Jellicoe is one of Nature’s +blitherers. So that’s why he touched us +for our hard-earned, was it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Of course there was +no need for him to have the money at all.”</p> + +<p>“And the result is that you +are in something of a tight place. You’re +<i>absolutely</i> certain you didn’t paint that +dog? Didn’t do it, by any chance, in a +moment of absent-mindedness, and forgot all about it? +No? No, I suppose not. I wonder who did!”</p> + +<p>“It’s beastly awkward. +You see, Downing chased me that night. That was +why I rang the alarm bell. So, you see, he’s +certain to think that the chap he chased, which was +me, and the chap who painted Sammy, are the same. +I shall get landed both ways.”</p> + +<p>Psmith pondered.</p> + +<p>“It <i>is</i> a tightish place,” he admitted.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if we could get this +boot clean,” said Mike, inspecting it with disfavour.</p> + +<p>“Not for a pretty considerable time.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose not. I say, +I <i>am</i> in the cart. If I can’t produce +this boot, they’re bound to guess why.”</p> + +<p>“What exactly,” asked +Psmith, “was the position of affairs between +you and Comrade Downing when you left him? Had +you definitely parted brass-rags? Or did you +simply sort of drift apart with mutual courtesies?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he said I was ill-advised +to continue that attitude, or some rot, and I said +I didn’t care, I hadn’t painted his bally +dog, and he said very well, then, he must take steps, +and—well, that was about all.”</p> + +<p>“Sufficient, too,” said +Psmith, “quite sufficient. I take it, then, +that he is now on the war-path, collecting a gang, +so to speak.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose he’s gone to the Old Man about +it.”</p> + +<p>“Probably. A very worrying +time our headmaster is having, taking it all round, +in connection with this painful affair. What do +you think his move will be?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose he’ll send +for me, and try to get something out of me.”</p> + +<p>“<i>He’ll</i> want you +to confess, too. Masters are all whales on confession. +The worst of it is, you can’t prove an alibi, +because at about the time the foul act was perpetrated, +you were playing Round-and-round-the-mulberry-bush +with Comrade Downing. This needs thought. +You had better put the case in my hands, and go out +and watch the dandelions growing. I will think +over the matter.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I hope you’ll be +able to think of something. I can’t.”</p> + +<p>“Possibly. You never know.”</p> + +<p>There was a tap at the door.</p> + +<p>“See how we have trained them,” +said Psmith. “They now knock before entering. +There was a time when they would have tried to smash +in a panel. Come in.”</p> + +<p>A small boy, carrying a straw hat +adorned with the school-house ribbon, answered the +invitation.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I say, Jackson,” +he said, “the headmaster sent me over to tell +you he wants to see you.”</p> + +<p>“I told you so,” said Mike to Psmith.</p> + +<p>“Don’t go,” suggested Psmith. +“Tell him to write.”</p> + +<p>Mike got up.</p> + +<p>“All this is very trying,” +said Psmith. “I’m seeing nothing of +you to-day.” He turned to the small boy. +“Tell Willie,” he added, “that Mr. +Jackson will be with him in a moment.”</p> + +<p>The emissary departed.</p> + +<p>“<i>You’re</i> all right,” +said Psmith encouragingly. “Just you keep +on saying you’re all right. Stout denial +is the thing. Don’t go in for any airy +explanations. Simply stick to stout denial. +You can’t beat it.”</p> + +<p>With which expert advice, he allowed Mike to go on +his way.</p> + +<p>He had not been gone two minutes, +when Psmith, who had leaned back in his chair, wrapped +in thought, heaved himself up again. He stood +for a moment straightening his tie at the looking-glass; +then he picked up his hat and moved slowly out of +the door and down the passage. Thence, at the +same dignified rate of progress, out of the house and +in at Downing’s front gate.</p> + +<p>The postman was at the door when he +got there, apparently absorbed in conversation with +the parlour-maid. Psmith stood by politely till +the postman, who had just been told it was like his +impudence, caught sight of him, and, having handed +over the letters in an ultra-formal and professional +manner, passed away.</p> + +<p>“Is Mr. Downing at home?” inquired Psmith.</p> + +<p>He was, it seemed. Psmith was +shown into the dining-room on the left of the hall, +and requested to wait. He was examining a portrait +of Mr. Downing which hung on the wall, when the housemaster +came in.</p> + +<p>“An excellent likeness, sir,” +said Psmith, with a gesture of the hand towards the +painting.</p> + +<p>“Well, Smith,” said Mr. +Downing shortly, “what do you wish to see me +about?”</p> + +<p>“It was in connection with the +regrettable painting of your dog, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ha!” said Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>“I did it, sir,” said +Psmith, stopping and flicking a piece of fluff off +his knee.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"><a name="ch58"> +CHAPTER LVIII<br/><br/> +THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK</a></h3> + +<p>The line of action which Psmith had +called Stout Denial is an excellent line to adopt, +especially if you really are innocent, but it does +not lead to anything in the shape of a bright and snappy +dialogue between accuser and accused. Both Mike +and the headmaster were oppressed by a feeling that +the situation was difficult. The atmosphere was +heavy, and conversation showed a tendency to flag. +The headmaster had opened brightly enough, with a +summary of the evidence which Mr. Downing had laid +before him, but after that a massive silence had been +the order of the day. There is nothing in this +world quite so stolid and uncommunicative as a boy +who has made up his mind to be stolid and uncommunicative; +and the headmaster, as he sat and looked at Mike, +who sat and looked past him at the bookshelves, felt +awkward. It was a scene which needed either a +dramatic interruption or a neat exit speech. +As it happened, what it got was the dramatic interruption.</p> + +<p>The headmaster was just saying, “I +do not think you fully realise, Jackson, the extent +to which appearances—” —which +was practically going back to the beginning and starting +again—when there was a knock at the door. +A voice without said, “Mr. Downing to see you, +sir,” and the chief witness for the prosecution +burst in.</p> + +<p>“I would not have interrupted +you,” said Mr. Downing, “but——”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, Mr. Downing. Is there anything +I can——?”</p> + +<p>“I have discovered—I +have been informed—In short, it was not +Jackson, who committed the—who painted my +dog.”</p> + +<p>Mike and the headmaster both looked +at the speaker. Mike with a feeling of relief—for +Stout Denial, unsupported by any weighty evidence, +is a wearing game to play—the headmaster +with astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Not Jackson?” said the headmaster.</p> + +<p>“No. It was a boy in the same house. +Smith.”</p> + +<p>Psmith! Mike was more than surprised. +He could not believe it. There is nothing which +affords so clear an index to a boy’s character +as the type of rag which he considers humorous. +Between what is a rag and what is merely a rotten +trick there is a very definite line drawn. Masters, +as a rule, do not realise this, but boys nearly always +do. Mike could not imagine Psmith doing a rotten +thing like covering a housemaster’s dog with +red paint, any more than he could imagine doing it +himself. They had both been amused at the sight +of Sammy after the operation, but anybody, except +possibly the owner of the dog, would have thought +it funny at first. After the first surprise, their +feeling had been that it was a scuggish thing to have +done and beastly rough luck on the poor brute. +It was a kid’s trick. As for Psmith having +done it, Mike simply did not believe it.</p> + +<p>“Smith!” said the headmaster. “What +makes you think that?”</p> + +<p>“Simply this,” said Mr. +Downing, with calm triumph, “that the boy himself +came to me a few moments ago and confessed.”</p> + +<p>Mike was conscious of a feeling of +acute depression. It did not make him in the +least degree jubilant, or even thankful, to know that +he himself was cleared of the charge. All he +could think of was that Psmith was done for. +This was bound to mean the sack. If Psmith had +painted Sammy, it meant that Psmith had broken out +of his house at night: and it was not likely +that the rules about nocturnal wandering were less +strict at Sedleigh than at any other school in the +kingdom. Mike felt, if possible, worse than he +had felt when Wyatt had been caught on a similar occasion. +It seemed as if Fate had a special grudge against +his best friends. He did not make friends very +quickly or easily, though he had always had scores +of acquaintances—and with Wyatt and Psmith +he had found himself at home from the first moment +he had met them.</p> + +<p>He sat there, with a curious feeling +of having swallowed a heavy weight, hardly listening +to what Mr. Downing was saying. Mr. Downing was +talking rapidly to the headmaster, who was nodding +from time to time.</p> + +<p>Mike took advantage of a pause to +get up. “May I go, sir?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Jackson, certainly,” +said the Head. “Oh, and er—, +if you are going back to your house, tell Smith that +I should like to see him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>He had reached the door, when again there was a knock.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” said the headmaster.</p> + +<p>It was Adair.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Adair?”</p> + +<p>Adair was breathing rather heavily, as if he had been +running.</p> + +<p>“It was about Sammy—Sampson, sir,” +he said, looking at Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>“Ah, we know—. Well, Adair, what +did you wish to say?”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t Jackson who did it, sir.”</p> + +<p>“No, no, Adair. So Mr. Downing——”</p> + +<p>“It was Dunster, sir.”</p> + +<p>Terrific sensation! The headmaster +gave a sort of strangled yelp of astonishment. +Mr. Downing leaped in his chair. Mike’s +eyes opened to their fullest extent.</p> + +<p>“Adair!”</p> + +<p>There was almost a wail in the headmaster’s +voice. The situation had suddenly become too +much for him. His brain was swimming. That +Mike, despite the evidence against him, should be +innocent, was curious, perhaps, but not particularly +startling. But that Adair should inform him, +two minutes after Mr. Downing’s announcement +of Psmith’s confession, that Psmith, too, was +guiltless, and that the real criminal was Dunster—it +was this that made him feel that somebody, in the +words of an American author, had played a mean trick +on him, and substituted for his brain a side-order +of cauliflower. Why Dunster, of all people? +Dunster, who, he remembered dizzily, had left the school +at Christmas. And why, if Dunster had really painted +the dog, had Psmith asserted that he himself was the +culprit? Why—why anything? He +concentrated his mind on Adair as the only person who +could save him from impending brain-fever.</p> + +<p>“Adair!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p>“What—<i>what</i> do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“It <i>was</i> Dunster, sir. +I got a letter from him only five minutes ago, in +which he said that he had painted Sammy—Sampson, +the dog, sir, for a rag—for a joke, and +that, as he didn’t want any one here to get +into a row—be punished for it, I’d +better tell Mr. Downing at once. I tried to find +Mr. Downing, but he wasn’t in the house. +Then I met Smith outside the house, and he told me +that Mr. Downing had gone over to see you, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Smith told you?” said Mr. Downing.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Did you say anything to him +about your having received this letter from Dunster?”</p> + +<p>“I gave him the letter to read, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And what was his attitude when he had read +it?”</p> + +<p>“He laughed, sir.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Laughed!</i>” Mr. Downing’s +voice was thunderous.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. He rolled about.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing snorted.</p> + +<p>“But Adair,” said the +headmaster, “I do not understand how this thing +could have been done by Dunster. He has left the +school.”</p> + +<p>“He was down here for the Old +Sedleighans’ match, sir. He stopped the +night in the village.”</p> + +<p>“And that was the night the—it happened?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I see. Well, I am glad +to find that the blame cannot be attached to any boy +in the school. I am sorry that it is even an Old +Boy. It was a foolish, discreditable thing to +have done, but it is not as bad as if any boy still +at the school had broken out of his house at night +to do it.”</p> + +<p>“The sergeant,” said Mr. +Downing, “told me that the boy he saw was attempting +to enter Mr. Outwood’s house.”</p> + +<p>“Another freak of Dunster’s, +I suppose,” said the headmaster. “I +shall write to him.”</p> + +<p>“If it was really Dunster who +painted my dog,” said Mr. Downing, “I +cannot understand the part played by Smith in this +affair. If he did not do it, what possible motive +could he have had for coming to me of his own accord +and deliberately confessing?”</p> + +<p>“To be sure,” said the +headmaster, pressing a bell. “It is certainly +a thing that calls for explanation. Barlow,” +he said, as the butler appeared, “kindly go +across to Mr. Outwood’s house and inform Smith +that I should like to see him.”</p> + +<p>“If you please, sir, Mr. Smith is waiting in +the hall.”</p> + +<p>“In the hall!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. He arrived soon +after Mr. Adair, sir, saying that he would wait, as +you would probably wish to see him shortly.”</p> + +<p>“H’m. Ask him to step up, Barlow.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>There followed one of the tensest +“stage waits” of Mike’s experience. +It was not long, but, while it lasted, the silence +was quite solid. Nobody seemed to have anything +to say, and there was not even a clock in the room +to break the stillness with its ticking. A very +faint drip-drip of rain could be heard outside the +window.</p> + +<p>Presently there was a sound of footsteps +on the stairs. The door was opened.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Smith, sir.”</p> + +<p>The old Etonian entered as would the +guest of the evening who is a few moments late for +dinner. He was cheerful, but slightly deprecating. +He gave the impression of one who, though sure of +his welcome, feels that some slight apology is expected +from him. He advanced into the room with a gentle +half-smile which suggested good-will to all men.</p> + +<p>“It is still raining,” +he observed. “You wished to see me, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Smith.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p> + +<p>He dropped into a deep arm-chair (which +both Adair and Mike had avoided in favour of less +luxurious seats) with the confidential cosiness of +a fashionable physician calling on a patient, between +whom and himself time has broken down the barriers +of restraint and formality.</p> + +<p>Mr. Downing burst out, like a reservoir that has broken +its banks.</p> + +<p>“Smith.”</p> + +<p>Psmith turned his gaze politely in the housemaster’s +direction.</p> + +<p>“Smith, you came to me a quarter +of an hour ago and told me that it was you who had +painted my dog Sampson.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“It was absolutely untrue?”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid so, sir.”</p> + +<p>“But, Smith—” began the headmaster.</p> + +<p>Psmith bent forward encouragingly.</p> + +<p>“——This is +a most extraordinary affair. Have you no explanation +to offer? What induced you to do such a thing?”</p> + +<p>Psmith sighed softly.</p> + +<p>“The craze for notoriety, sir,” +he replied sadly. “The curse of the present +age.”</p> + +<p>“What!” cried the headmaster.</p> + +<p>“It is remarkable,” proceeded +Psmith placidly, with the impersonal touch of one +lecturing on generalities, “how frequently, when +a murder has been committed, one finds men confessing +that they have done it when it is out of the question +that they should have committed it. It is one +of the most interesting problems with which anthropologists +are confronted. Human nature——”</p> + +<p>The headmaster interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Smith,” he said, “I +should like to see you alone for a moment. Mr. +Downing might I trouble—? Adair, Jackson.”</p> + +<p>He made a motion towards the door.</p> + +<p>When he and Psmith were alone, there +was silence. Psmith leaned back comfortably in +his chair. The headmaster tapped nervously with +his foot on the floor.</p> + +<p>“Er—Smith.”</p> + +<p>“Sir?”</p> + +<p>The headmaster seemed to have some +difficulty in proceeding. He paused again. +Then he went on.</p> + +<p>“Er—Smith, I do not +for a moment wish to pain you, but have you—er, +do you remember ever having had, as a child, let us +say, any—er—severe illness? +Any—er—<i>mental</i> illness?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“There is no—forgive +me if I am touching on a sad subject—there +is no—none of your near relatives have ever +suffered in the way I—er—have +described?”</p> + +<p>“There isn’t a lunatic +on the list, sir,” said Psmith cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Of course, Smith, of course,” +said the headmaster hurriedly, “I did not mean +to suggest—quite so, quite so.... You +think, then, that you confessed to an act which you +had not committed purely from some sudden impulse +which you cannot explain?”</p> + +<p>“Strictly between ourselves, sir——”</p> + +<p>Privately, the headmaster found Psmith’s +man-to-man attitude somewhat disconcerting, but he +said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Well, Smith?”</p> + +<p>“I should not like it to go any further, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I will certainly respect any confidence——”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want anybody +to know, sir. This is strictly between ourselves.”</p> + +<p>“I think you are sometimes apt +to forget, Smith, the proper relations existing between +boy and—Well, never mind that for the present. +We can return to it later. For the moment, let +me hear what you wish to say. I shall, of course, +tell nobody, if you do not wish it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it was like this, sir,” +said Psmith. “Jackson happened to tell +me that you and Mr. Downing seemed to think he had +painted Mr. Downing’s dog, and there seemed +some danger of his being expelled, so I thought it +wouldn’t be an unsound scheme if I were to go +and say I had done it. That was the whole thing. +Of course, Dunster writing created a certain amount +of confusion.”</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>“It was a very wrong thing to +do, Smith,” said the headmaster, at last, “but.... +You are a curious boy, Smith. Good-night.”</p> + +<p>He held out his hand.</p> + +<p>“Good-night, sir,” said Psmith.</p> + +<p>“Not a bad old sort,” +said Psmith meditatively to himself, as he walked +downstairs. “By no means a bad old sort. +I must drop in from time to time and cultivate him.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mike and Adair were waiting for him +outside the front door.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Mike.</p> + +<p>“You <i>are</i> the limit,” said Adair. +“What’s he done?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing. We had a very pleasant chat, +and then I tore myself away.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say he’s not going to +do a thing?”</p> + +<p>“Not a thing.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’re a marvel,” said Adair.</p> + +<p>Psmith thanked him courteously. They walked on +towards the houses.</p> + +<p>“By the way, Adair,” said +Mike, as the latter started to turn in at Downing’s, +“I’ll write to Strachan to-night about +that match.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” asked Psmith.</p> + +<p>“Jackson’s going to try +and get Wrykyn to give us a game,” said Adair. +“They’ve got a vacant date. I hope +the dickens they’ll do it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I should think they’re certain to,” +said Mike. “Good-night.”</p> + +<p>“And give Comrade Downing, when +you see him,” said Psmith, “my very best +love. It is men like him who make this Merrie +England of ours what it is.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“I say, Psmith,” said +Mike suddenly, “what really made you tell Downing +you’d done it?”</p> + +<p>“The craving for——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, chuck it. You aren’t +talking to the Old Man now. I believe it was +simply to get me out of a jolly tight corner.”</p> + +<p>Psmith’s expression was one of pain.</p> + +<p>“My dear Comrade Jackson,” +said he, “you wrong me. You make me writhe. +I’m surprised at you. I never thought to +hear those words from Michael Jackson.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I believe you did, all +the same,” said Mike obstinately. “And +it was jolly good of you, too.”</p> + +<p>Psmith moaned.</p> + +<h3 class="chap"> +<a name="ch59"> +CHAPTER LIX<br/><br/> +SEDLEIGH <i>v</i>. WRYKYN</a></h3> + +<p>The Wrykyn match was three-parts over, +and things were going badly for Sedleigh. In +a way one might have said that the game was over, and +that Sedleigh had lost; for it was a one day match, +and Wrykyn, who had led on the first innings, had +only to play out time to make the game theirs.</p> + +<p>Sedleigh were paying the penalty for +allowing themselves to be influenced by nerves in +the early part of the day. Nerves lose more school +matches than good play ever won. There is a certain +type of school batsman who is a gift to any bowler +when he once lets his imagination run away with him. +Sedleigh, with the exception of Adair, Psmith, and +Mike, had entered upon this match in a state of the +most azure funk. Ever since Mike had received +Strachan’s answer and Adair had announced on +the notice-board that on Saturday, July the twentieth, +Sedleigh would play Wrykyn, the team had been all on +the jump. It was useless for Adair to tell them, +as he did repeatedly, on Mike’s authority, that +Wrykyn were weak this season, and that on their present +form Sedleigh ought to win easily. The team listened, +but were not comforted. Wrykyn might be below +their usual strength, but then Wrykyn cricket, as +a rule, reached such a high standard that this probably +meant little. However weak Wrykyn might be—for +them—there was a very firm impression among +the members of the Sedleigh first eleven that the +other school was quite strong enough to knock the +cover off <i>them</i>. Experience counts enormously +in school matches. Sedleigh had never been proved. +The teams they played were the sort of sides which +the Wrykyn second eleven would play. Whereas Wrykyn, +from time immemorial, had been beating Ripton teams +and Free Foresters teams and M.C.C. teams packed with +county men and sending men to Oxford and Cambridge +who got their blues as freshmen.</p> + +<p>Sedleigh had gone on to the field +that morning a depressed side.</p> + +<p>It was unfortunate that Adair had +won the toss. He had had no choice but to take +first innings. The weather had been bad for the +last week, and the wicket was slow and treacherous. +It was likely to get worse during the day, so Adair +had chosen to bat first.</p> + +<p>Taking into consideration the state +of nerves the team was in, this in itself was a calamity. +A school eleven are always at their worst and nerviest +before lunch. Even on their own ground they find +the surroundings lonely and unfamiliar. The subtlety +of the bowlers becomes magnified. Unless the +first pair make a really good start, a collapse almost +invariably ensues.</p> + +<p>To-day the start had been gruesome +beyond words. Mike, the bulwark of the side, +the man who had been brought up on Wrykyn bowling, +and from whom, whatever might happen to the others, +at least a fifty was expected—Mike, going +in first with Barnes and taking first over, had played +inside one from Bruce, the Wrykyn slow bowler, and +had been caught at short slip off his second ball.</p> + +<p>That put the finishing-touch on the +panic. Stone, Robinson, and the others, all quite +decent punishing batsmen when their nerves allowed +them to play their own game, crawled to the wickets, +declined to hit out at anything, and were clean bowled, +several of them, playing back to half-volleys. +Adair did not suffer from panic, but his batting was +not equal to his bowling, and he had fallen after hitting +one four. Seven wickets were down for thirty +when Psmith went in.</p> + +<p>Psmith had always disclaimed any pretensions +to batting skill, but he was undoubtedly the right +man for a crisis like this. He had an enormous +reach, and he used it. Three consecutive balls +from Bruce he turned into full-tosses and swept to +the leg-boundary, and, assisted by Barnes, who had +been sitting on the splice in his usual manner, he +raised the total to seventy-one before being yorked, +with his score at thirty-five. Ten minutes later +the innings was over, with Barnes not out sixteen, +for seventy-nine.</p> + +<p>Wrykyn had then gone in, lost Strachan +for twenty before lunch, and finally completed their +innings at a quarter to four for a hundred and thirty-one.</p> + +<p>This was better than Sedleigh had +expected. At least eight of the team had looked +forward dismally to an afternoon’s leather-hunting. +But Adair and Psmith, helped by the wicket, had never +been easy, especially Psmith, who had taken six wickets, +his slows playing havoc with the tail.</p> + +<p>It would be too much to say that Sedleigh +had any hope of pulling the game out of the fire; +but it was a comfort, they felt, at any rate, having +another knock. As is usual at this stage of a +match, their nervousness had vanished, and they felt +capable of better things than in the first innings.</p> + +<p>It was on Mike’s suggestion +that Psmith and himself went in first. Mike knew +the limitations of the Wrykyn bowling, and he was convinced +that, if they could knock Bruce off, it might be possible +to rattle up a score sufficient to give them the game, +always provided that Wrykyn collapsed in the second +innings. And it seemed to Mike that the wicket +would be so bad then that they easily might.</p> + +<p>So he and Psmith had gone in at four +o’clock to hit. And they had hit. +The deficit had been wiped off, all but a dozen runs, +when Psmith was bowled, and by that time Mike was +set and in his best vein. He treated all the +bowlers alike. And when Stone came in, restored +to his proper frame of mind, and lashed out stoutly, +and after him Robinson and the rest, it looked as +if Sedleigh had a chance again. The score was +a hundred and twenty when Mike, who had just reached +his fifty, skied one to Strachan at cover. The +time was twenty-five past five.</p> + +<p>As Mike reached the pavilion, Adair +declared the innings closed.</p> + +<p>Wrykyn started batting at twenty-five +minutes to six, with sixty-nine to make if they wished +to make them, and an hour and ten minutes during which +to keep up their wickets if they preferred to take +things easy and go for a win on the first innings.</p> + +<p>At first it looked as if they meant +to knock off the runs, for Strachan forced the game +from the first ball, which was Psmith’s, and +which he hit into the pavilion. But, at fifteen, +Adair bowled him. And when, two runs later, Psmith +got the next man stumped, and finished up his over +with a c-and-b, Wrykyn decided that it was not good +enough. Seventeen for three, with an hour all +but five minutes to go, was getting too dangerous. +So Drummond and Rigby, the next pair, proceeded to +play with caution, and the collapse ceased.</p> + +<p>This was the state of the game at +the point at which this chapter opened. Seventeen +for three had become twenty-four for three, and the +hands of the clock stood at ten minutes past six. +Changes of bowling had been tried, but there seemed +no chance of getting past the batsmen’s defence. +They were playing all the good balls, and refused +to hit at the bad.</p> + +<p>A quarter past six struck, and then +Psmith made a suggestion which altered the game completely.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you have a +shot this end?” he said to Adair, as they were +crossing over. “There’s a spot on +the off which might help you a lot. You can break +like blazes if only you land on it. It doesn’t +help my leg-breaks a bit, because they won’t +hit at them.”</p> + +<p>Barnes was on the point of beginning +to bowl, when Adair took the ball from him. The +captain of Outwood’s retired to short leg with +an air that suggested that he was glad to be relieved +of his prominent post.</p> + +<p>The next moment Drummond’s off-stump +was lying at an angle of forty-five. Adair was +absolutely accurate as a bowler, and he had dropped +his first ball right on the worn patch.</p> + +<p>Two minutes later Drummond’s +successor was retiring to the pavilion, while the +wicket-keeper straightened the stumps again.</p> + +<p>There is nothing like a couple of +unexpected wickets for altering the atmosphere of +a game. Five minutes before, Sedleigh had been +lethargic and without hope. Now there was a stir +and buzz all round the ground. There were twenty-five +minutes to go, and five wickets were down. Sedleigh +was on top again.</p> + +<p>The next man seemed to take an age +coming out. As a matter of fact, he walked more +rapidly than a batsman usually walks to the crease.</p> + +<p>Adair’s third ball dropped just +short of the spot. The batsman, hitting out, +was a shade too soon. The ball hummed through +the air a couple of feet from the ground in the direction +of mid-off, and Mike, diving to the right, got to +it as he was falling, and chucked it up.</p> + +<p>After that the thing was a walk-over. +Psmith clean bowled a man in his next over; and the +tail, demoralised by the sudden change in the game, +collapsed uncompromisingly. Sedleigh won by thirty-five +runs with eight minutes in hand.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Psmith and Mike sat in their study +after lock-up, discussing things in general and the +game in particular.</p> + +<p>“I feel like a beastly renegade, +playing against Wrykyn,” said Mike. “Still, +I’m glad we won. Adair’s a jolly good +sort, and it’ll make him happy for weeks.”</p> + +<p>“When I last saw Comrade Adair,” +said Psmith, “he was going about in a sort of +trance, beaming vaguely and wanting to stand people +things at the shop.”</p> + +<p>“He bowled awfully well.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Psmith. +“I say, I don’t wish to cast a gloom over +this joyful occasion in any way, but you say Wrykyn +are going to give Sedleigh a fixture again next year?”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Well, have you thought of the +massacre which will ensue? You will have left, +Adair will have left. Incidentally, I shall have +left. Wrykyn will swamp them.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose they will. Still, +the great thing, you see, is to get the thing started. +That’s what Adair was so keen on. Now Sedleigh +has beaten Wrykyn, he’s satisfied. They +can get on fixtures with decent clubs, and work up +to playing the big schools. You’ve got to +start somehow. So it’s all right, you see.”</p> + +<p>“And, besides,” said Psmith, +reflectively, “in an emergency they can always +get Comrade Downing to bowl for them, what? Let +us now sally out and see if we can’t promote +a rag of some sort in this abode of wrath. Comrade +Outwood has gone over to dinner at the School House, +and it would be a pity to waste a somewhat golden opportunity. +Shall we stagger?”</p> + +<p>They staggered.</p> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. +</div> + +<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> +<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> +<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: +</div> + +<blockquote> + <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions + whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms + of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online + at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + </div> +</blockquote> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: +</div> + +<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation.” + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ + works. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</div> + +</div> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike1.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ca2a19 --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike1.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike10.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike10.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dce2a5a --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike10.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike11.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike11.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..24f86c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike11.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike12.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike12.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4323b3f --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike12.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike13.png b/7423-h/images/jmike13.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a849d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike13.png diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike2.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9fc6d61 --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike2.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike3.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike3.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5a12ea8 --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike3.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike4.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike4.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..56f7495 --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike4.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike5.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike5.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff6605e --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike5.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike6.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike6.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..760a632 --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike6.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike7.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike7.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2cae327 --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike7.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike8.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike8.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c78b43 --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike8.jpg diff --git a/7423-h/images/jmike9.jpg b/7423-h/images/jmike9.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..22a8426 --- /dev/null +++ b/7423-h/images/jmike9.jpg |
