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diff --git a/old/7423-8.txt b/old/7423-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6db50c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7423-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15561 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mike, by P. G. Wodehouse + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mike + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +Release Date: June 15, 2004 [EBook #7423] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Jim Tinsley, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. +With thanks to Amherst College Library. + + + + + + +MIKE + +A PUBLIC SCHOOL STORY + + + +BY +P. G. WODEHOUSE + + + +CONTAINING TWELVE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS +BY T. M. R. WHITWELL + + + +LONDON +1909. + + + +[Illustration (Frontispiece): "ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON THEN WHO HAD AN +AVERAGE OF FIFTY ONE POINT NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?"] + + + + +[Dedication] +TO +ALAN DURAND + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER +I. MIKE + +II. THE JOURNEY DOWN + +III. MIKE FINDS A FRIENDLY NATIVE + +IV. AT THE NETS + +V. REVELRY BY NIGHT + +VI. IN WHICH A TIGHT CORNER IS EVADED + +VII. IN WHICH MIKE IS DISCUSSED + +VIII. A ROW WITH THE TOWN + +IX. BEFORE THE STORM + +X. THE GREAT PICNIC + +XI. THE CONCLUSION OF THE PICNIC + +XII. MIKE GETS HIS CHANCE + +XIII. THE M.C.C. MATCH + +XIV. A SLIGHT IMBROGLIO + +XV. MIKE CREATES A VACANCY + +XVI. AN EXPERT EXAMINATION + +XVII. ANOTHER VACANCY + +XVIII. BOB HAS NEWS TO IMPART + +XIX. MIKE GOES TO SLEEP AGAIN + +XX. THE TEAM IS FILLED UP + +XXI. MARJORY THE FRANK + +XXII. WYATT IS REMINDED OF AN ENGAGEMENT + +XXIII. A SURPRISE FOR MR. APPLEBY + +XXIV. CAUGHT + +XXV. MARCHING ORDERS + +XXVI. THE AFTERMATH + +XXVII. THE RIPTON MATCH + +XXVIII. MIKE WINS HOME + +XXIX. WYATT AGAIN + +XXX. MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND + +XXXI. SEDLEIGH + +XXXII. PSMITH + +XXXIII. STAKING OUT A CLAIM + +XXXIV. GUERILLA WARFARE + +XXXV. UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS + +XXXVI. ADAIR + +XXXVII. MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION + +XXXVIII. THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING + +XXXIX. ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT + +XL. THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S + +XLI. THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF JELLICOE + +XLII. JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK-LIST + +XLIII. MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION + +XLIV. AND FULFILS IT + +XLV. PURSUIT + +XLVI. THE DECORATION OF SAMMY + +XLVII. MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT + +XLVIII. THE SLEUTH-HOUND + +XLIX. A CHECK + +L. THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE + +LI. MAINLY ABOUT BOOTS + +LII. ON THE TRAIL AGAIN + +LIII. THE KETTLE METHOD + +LIV. ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE + +LV. CLEARING THE AIR + +LVI. IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED + +LVII. MR. DOWNING MOVES + +LVIII. THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK + +LIX. SEDLEIGH _v._ WRYKYN + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +BY T. M. R. WHITWELL + + +"ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON, THEN, WHO HAD AN AVERAGE OF FIFTY-ONE POINT +NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?" + +THE DARK WATERS WERE LASHED INTO A MAELSTROM + +"DON'T _LAUGH_, YOU GRINNING APE" + +"DO--YOU--SEE, YOU FRIGHTFUL KID?" + +"WHAT'S ALL THIS ABOUT JIMMY WYATT?" + +MIKE AND THE BALL ARRIVED ALMOST SIMULTANEOUSLY + +"WHAT THE DICKENS ARE YOU DOING HERE?" + +PSMITH SEIZED AND EMPTIED JELLICOE'S JUG OVER SPILLER + +"WHY DID YOU SAY YOU DIDN'T PLAY CRICKET?" HE ASKED + +"WHO--" HE SHOUTED, "WHO HAS DONE THIS?" + +"DID--YOU--PUT--THAT--BOOT--THERE, SMITH?" + +MIKE DROPPED THE SOOT-COVERED OBJECT IN THE FENDER + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MIKE + + +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 +_Sportsman_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +"Mike's late again," said Mrs. Jackson plaintively, at last. + +"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." + +"Marjory!" + +"Well, he was on his back with his mouth wide open. I had to. He was +snoring like anything." + +"You might have choked him." + +"I did," said Marjory with satisfaction. "Jam, please, Phyllis, you +pig." + +Mr. Jackson looked up. + +"Mike will have to be more punctual when he goes to Wrykyn," he said. + +"Oh, father, is Mike going to Wrykyn?" asked Marjory. "When?" + +"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." + +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. + +"I say!" he said. "What?" + +"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." + +"He's got cheek enough for ten," agreed Bob. + +"Wrykyn will do him a world of good." + +"We aren't in the same house. That's one comfort." + +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. + +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. + +"Hooray! Mike's going to Wrykyn. I bet he gets into the first eleven +his first term." + +"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." + +The aspersion stung Marjory. + +"I bet he gets in before you, anyway," she said. + +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. + +Mrs. Jackson intervened. + +"Go on with your breakfast, Marjory," she said. "You mustn't say 'I +bet' so much." + +Marjory bit off a section of her slice of bread-and-jam. + +"Anyhow, I bet he does," she muttered truculently through it. + +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." + +This was mere stereo. He had made the same remark nearly every morning +since the beginning of the holidays. + +"All right, Marjory, you little beast," was his reference to the +sponge incident. + +His third remark was of a practical nature. + +"I say, what's under that dish?" + +"Mike," began Mr. Jackson--this again was stereo--"you really must +learn to be more punctual----" + +He was interrupted by a chorus. + +"Mike, you're going to Wrykyn next term," shouted Marjory. + +"Mike, father's just had a letter to say you're going to Wrykyn next +term." From Phyllis. + +"Mike, you're going to Wrykyn." From Ella. + +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." + +"Oh, put a green baize cloth over that kid, somebody," groaned Bob. + +Whereat Gladys Maud, having fixed him with a chilly stare for some +seconds, suddenly drew a long breath, and squealed deafeningly for +more milk. + +Mike looked round the table. It was a great moment. He rose to it with +the utmost dignity. + +"Good," he said. "I say, what's under that dish?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +Mike put on his pads; and Marjory walked with the professional to the +bowling crease. + +"Mike's going to Wrykyn next term, Saunders," she said. "All the boys +were there, you know. So was father, ages ago." + +"Is he, miss? I was thinking he would be soon." + +"Do you think he'll get into the school team?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Saunders looked a little doubtful. + +"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." + +"But Mike's jolly strong." + +"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." + +"No, I don't, Saunders. What are they like?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Marjory sat down again beside the net, and watched more hopefully. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE JOURNEY DOWN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Where's that porter?" Mike heard him say. + +The porter came skimming down the platform at that moment. + +"Porter." + +"Sir?" + +"Are those frightful boxes of mine in all right?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Because, you know, there'll be a frightful row if any of them get +lost." + +"No chance of that, sir." + +"Here you are, then." + +"Thank you, sir." + +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. + +The other made no overtures, and at the next stop got out. That +explained his magazineless condition. He was only travelling a short +way. + +"Good business," said Mike to himself. He had all the Englishman's +love of a carriage to himself. + +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. + +And here, I regret to say, Mike acted from the best motives, which is +always fatal. + +He realised in an instant what had happened. The fellow had forgotten +his bag. + +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 +trainwas already moving quite fast, and Mike's compartment was nearing +the end of the platform. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Hullo, I say," said the stranger. "Have you changed carriages, or +what?" + +"No," said Mike. + +"Then, dash it, where's my frightful bag?" + +Life teems with embarrassing situations. This was one of them. + +"The fact is," said Mike, "I chucked it out." + +"Chucked it out! what do you mean? When?" + +"At the last station." + +The guard blew his whistle, and the other jumped into the carriage. + +"I thought you'd got out there for good," explained Mike. "I'm awfully +sorry." + +"Where _is_ the bag?" + +"On the platform at the last station. It hit a porter." + +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. + +The bereaved owner disapproved of this levity; and said as much. + +"Don't _grin_, 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." + +"It wasn't that," said Mike hurriedly. "Only the porter looked awfully +funny when it hit him." + +"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." + +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. + +"Hullo, there you are," said Bob. + +His eye fell upon Mike's companion. + +"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." + +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. + +"Oh, are you in Wain's?" he said. + +"I say, Bob," said Mike, "I've made rather an ass of myself." + +"Naturally." + +"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." + +"You're a bit of a rotter, aren't you? Had it got your name and +address on it, Gazeka?" + +"Yes." + +"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." + +"Frightful nuisance, all the same. Lots of things in it I wanted." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Frightful," agreed Firby-Smith. + +"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." + +Mike looked out of the window. It was Wrykyn at last. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MIKE FINDS A FRIENDLY NATIVE + + +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. + +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," + +"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." + +"What shall _we_ do?" said Bob. "Come and have some tea at +Cook's?" + +"All right." + +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? + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Can you tell me the way to the school, please," he said. + +"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. + +"You look rather lost," said the stranger. "Been hunting for it long?" + +"Yes," said Mike. + +"Which house do you want?" + +"Wain's." + +"Wain's? Then you've come to the right man this time. What I don't +know about Wain's isn't worth knowing." + +"Are you there, too?" + +"Am I not! Term _and_ holidays. There's no close season for me." + +"Oh, are you Wyatt, then?" asked Mike. + +"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?" + +"I heard my brother saying something about you in the train." + +"Who's your brother?" + +"Jackson. He's in Donaldson's." + +"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?" + +"Not brothers," said Mike. + +"Pity. You can't quite raise a team, then? Are you a sort of young +Tyldesley, too?" + +"I played a bit at my last school. Only a private school, you know," +added Mike modestly. + +"Make any runs? What was your best score?" + +"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. + +"That's pretty useful. Any more centuries?" + +"Yes," said Mike, shuffling. + +"How many?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh, thanks awfully," said Mike. "My brother and Firby-Smith have gone +to a place called Cook's." + +"The old Gazeka? I didn't know he lived in your part of the world. +He's head of Wain's." + +"Yes, I know," said Mike. "Why is he called Gazeka?" he asked after a +pause. + +"Don't you think he looks like one? What did you think of him?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"I say, it's jolly big," he said. "How many fellows are there in it?" + +"Thirty-one this term, I believe." + +"That's more than there were at King-Hall's." + +"What's King-Hall's?" + +"The private school I was at. At Emsworth." + +Emsworth seemed very remote and unreal to him as he spoke. + +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. + +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. + +Wyatt took Mike into the matron's room, a small room opening out of +the main passage. + +"This is Jackson," he said. "Which dormitory is he in, Miss Payne?" + +The matron consulted a paper. + +"He's in yours, Wyatt." + +"Good business. Who's in the other bed? There are going to be three of +us, aren't there?" + +"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." + +"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." + +They went along the passage, and up a flight of stairs. + +"Here you are," said Wyatt. + +It was a fair-sized room. The window, heavily barred, looked out over +a large garden. + +"I used to sleep here alone last term," said Wyatt, "but the house is +so full now they've turned it into a dormitory." + +"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. + +Wyatt looked at him curiously, and moved to the window. + +"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----" + +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. + +"By Jove!" said Mike. + +"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?" + +"All right," said Mike, reluctantly. "But I wish you'd let me." + +"Not if I know it. Promise you won't try it on." + +"All right. But, I say, what do you do out there?" + +"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." + +"I wish you'd let me come." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AT THE NETS + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo, where are you off to?" asked Wyatt. "Coming to watch the +nets?" + +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. + +"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." + +This suited Mike admirably. A quarter of an hour later he was sitting +at the back of the first eleven net, watching the practice. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Thanks," said Bob austerely, as Mike returned the ball to him. He +seemed depressed. + +Towards the end of the afternoon, Wyatt went up to Burgess. + +"Burgess," he said, "see that kid sitting behind the net?" + +"With the naked eye," said Burgess. "Why?" + +"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." + +Burgess's amiability off the field equalled his ruthlessness when +bowling. + +"All right," he said. "Only if you think that I'm going to sweat to +bowl to him, you're making a fatal error." + +"You needn't do a thing. Just sit and watch. I rather fancy this kid's +something special." + + * * * * * + +Mike put on Wyatt's pads and gloves, borrowed his bat, and walked +round into the net. + +"Not in a funk, are you?" asked Wyatt, as he passed. + +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. + +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. + +"How's that?" said Wyatt, with the smile of an impresario on the first +night of a successful piece. + +"Not bad," admitted Burgess. + +A few moments later he was still more complimentary. He got up and +took a ball himself. + +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. + +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. + +"Well played," said Burgess. + +Mike felt like a successful general receiving the thanks of the +nation. + +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. + +"Thanks awfully," said Mike, referring to the square manner in which +the captain had behaved in letting him bat. + +"What school were you at before you came here?" asked Burgess. + +"A private school in Hampshire," said Mike. "King-Hall's. At a place +called Emsworth." + +"Get much cricket there?" + +"Yes, a good lot. One of the masters, a chap called Westbrook, was an +awfully good slow bowler." + +Burgess nodded. + +"You don't run away, which is something," he said. + +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. + +"Well played," he said. "I'd no idea you were such hot stuff. You're a +regular pro." + +"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." + +"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." + +"By Jove, that would be all right." + +"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." + +"I hope so," said Mike. + +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. + +"This place is ripping," he said to himself, as he saw his name on the +list. "Thought I should like it." + +And that night he wrote a letter to his father, notifying him of the +fact. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +REVELRY BY NIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The arrival of tea was the cue for conversation. + +"Well, how are you getting on?" asked Bob. + +"Oh, all right," said Mike. + +Silence. + +"Sugar?" asked Bob. + +"Thanks," said Mike. + +"How many lumps?" + +"Two, please." + +"Cake?" + +"Thanks." + +Silence. + +Bob pulled himself together. + +"Like Wain's?" + +"Ripping." + +"I asked Firby-Smith to keep an eye on you," said Bob. + +"What!" said Mike. + +The mere idea of a worm like the Gazeka being told to keep an eye on +_him_ was degrading. + +"He said he'd look after you," added Bob, making things worse. + +Look after him! Him!! M. Jackson, of the third eleven!!! + +Mike helped himself to another chunk of cake, and spoke crushingly. + +"He needn't trouble," he said. "I can look after myself all right, +thanks." + +Bob saw an opening for the entry of the Heavy Elder Brother. + +"Look here, Mike," he said, "I'm only saying it for your good----" + +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. + +"Yes?" said Mike coldly. + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" said Mike, outraged. + +"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." + +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. + +"Seen you about with Wyatt a good deal," he said at length. + +"Yes," said Mike. + +"Like him?" + +"Yes," said Mike cautiously. + +"You know," said Bob, "I shouldn't--I mean, I should take care what +you're doing with Wyatt." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well, he's an awfully good chap, of course, but still----" + +"Still what?" + +"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?" + +Bob was well-intentioned, but tact did not enter greatly into his +composition. + +"What rot!" said Mike. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +That youth, all spectacles and front teeth, met Mike at the door of +Wain's. + +"Ah, I wanted to see you, young man," he said. (Mike disliked being +called "young man.") "Come up to my study." + +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. + +"I've been hearing all about you, young man." Mike shuffled. + +"You're a frightful character from all accounts." Mike could not think +of anything to say that was not rude, so said nothing. + +"Your brother has asked me to keep an eye on you." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Hullo," he said. "Is that you, Wyatt?" + +"Are you awake?" said Wyatt. "Sorry if I've spoiled your beauty +sleep." + +"Are you going out?" + +"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." + +"I say, can't I come too?" + +A moonlight prowl, with or without an air-pistol, would just have +suited Mike's mood. + +"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." + +"Do you think you will be caught?" + +"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." + +And Wyatt, laying the bar he had extracted on the window-sill, +wriggled out. Mike saw him disappearing along the wall. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He crept quietly out of the dormitory. + +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. + +To make himself more secure he locked that door; then, turning up the +incandescent light, he proceeded to look about him. + +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. + +He took some more biscuits, and an apple. + +After which, feeling a new man, he examined the room. + +And this was where the trouble began. + +On a table in one corner stood a small gramophone. And gramophones +happened to be Mike's particular craze. + +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 _he_ inserted the first record that +came to hand, wound the machine up, and set it going. + +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. + +_"Auntie went to Aldershot in a Paris pom-pom hat."_ + +Mike stood and drained it in. + +_"... Good gracious_ (sang Mr. Field), _what was that?"_ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +The answer was simple. + +"He'd clear out," thought Mike. + +Two minutes later he was in bed. + +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! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN WHICH A TIGHT CORNER IS EVADED + + +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. + +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. + +He knocked at the door, and went in. + +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. + +"Please, sir, I thought I heard a noise," said Mike. + +Mr. Wain continued to stare. + +"What are you doing here?" said he at last. + +"Thought I heard a noise, please, sir." + +"A noise?" + +"Please, sir, a row." + +"You thought you heard----!" + +The thing seemed to be worrying Mr. Wain. + +"So I came down, sir," said Mike. + +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. + +"Did you turn on the gramophone?" he asked. + +"_Me_, sir!" said Mike, with the air of a bishop accused of +contributing to the _Police News_. + +"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?" + +"Thought I heard a noise, please, sir." + +"A noise?" + +"A row, sir." + +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. + +"I think there must have been a burglar in here, Jackson." + +"Looks like it, sir." + +"I found the window open." + +"He's probably in the garden, sir." + +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. + +"He might be still in the house," said Mr. Wain, ruminatively. + +"Not likely, sir." + +"You think not?" + +"Wouldn't be such a fool, sir. I mean, such an ass, sir." + +"Perhaps you are right, Jackson." + +"I shouldn't wonder if he was hiding in the shrubbery, sir." + +Mr. Wain looked at the shrubbery, as who should say, _"Et tu, +Brute!"_ + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +On the second of these occasions a low voice spoke from somewhere on +his right. + +"Who on earth's that?" it said. + +Mike stopped. + +"Is that you, Wyatt? I say----" + +"Jackson!" + +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. + +"You young ass," said Wyatt. "You promised me that you wouldn't get +out." + +"Yes, I know, but----" + +"I heard you crashing through the shrubbery like a hundred elephants. +If you _must_ get out at night and chance being sacked, you might +at least have the sense to walk quietly." + +"Yes, but you don't understand." + +And Mike rapidly explained the situation. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You--_what?_" + +"The gramophone. It started playing 'The Quaint Old Bird.' Ripping it +was, till Wain came along." + +Wyatt doubled up with noiseless laughter. + +"You're a genius," he said. "I never saw such a man. Well, what's the +game now? What's the idea?" + +"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." + +"That's not a bad idea. All right. You dash along then. I'll get +back." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Please, sir, so excited," said Mike, standing outside with his hands +on the sill. + +"You have no business to be excited. I will not have it. It is +exceedingly impertinent of you." + +"Please, sir, may I come in?" + +"Come in! Of course, come in. Have you no sense, boy? You are laying +the seeds of a bad cold. Come in at once." + +Mike clambered through the window. + +"I couldn't find him, sir. He must have got out of the garden." + +"Undoubtedly," said Mr. Wain. "Undoubtedly so. It was very wrong of +you to search for him. You have been seriously injured. Exceedingly +so" + +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. + +"I thought I heard a noise, sir," he said. + +He called Mr. Wain "father" in private, "sir" in public. The presence +of Mike made this a public occasion. + +"Has there been a burglary?" + +"Yes," said Mike, "only he has got away." + +"Shall I go out into the garden, and have a look round, sir?" asked +Wyatt helpfully. + +The question stung Mr. Wain into active eruption once more. + +"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." + +"But the burglar, sir?" said Wyatt. + +"We might catch him, sir," said Mike. + +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. + +"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." + +They made it so. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN WHICH MIKE IS DISCUSSED + + +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. + +"One for the pot," said Clowes. + +"All right," breathed Trevor. "Come and help, you slacker." + +"Too busy." + +"You aren't doing a stroke." + +"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." + +"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." + +"My mind at the moment," said Clowes, "was tensely occupied with the +problem of brothers at school. Have you got any brothers, Trevor?" + +"One. Couple of years younger than me. I say, we shall want some more +jam to-morrow. Better order it to-day." + +"See it done, Tigellinus, as our old pal Nero used to remark. Where is +he? Your brother, I mean." + +"Marlborough." + +"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." + +"Why not? Shouldn't have minded." + +"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.'" + +"You were right there," said Trevor. + +"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----" + +"Such as who?" + +"----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----" + +"Oh, come on," said Trevor. + +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. + +"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." + +"Jackson's all right. What's wrong with him? Besides, naturally, young +Jackson came to Wrykyn when all his brothers had been here." + +"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." + +"Well?" + +"Look here, what's at the bottom of this sending young brothers to the +same school as elder brothers?" + +"Elder brother can keep an eye on him, I suppose." + +"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." + +"Why?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"What's up? Does he rag?" + +"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." + +"He never seems to be in extra. One always sees him about on +half-holidays." + +"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?" + +"He's generally with Wyatt when I meet him." + +"Yes. Well, then!" + +"What's wrong with Wyatt? He's one of the decentest men in the +school." + +"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." + +Trevor looked disturbed. + +"Somebody ought to speak to Bob." + +"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." + +"I don't know. It would be a beastly thing for Bob if the kid did get +into a really bad row." + +"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." + +"The Gazeka is a fool." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +He found him in his study, oiling a bat. + +"I say, Bob," he said, "look here. Are you busy?" + +"No. Why?" + +"It's this way. Clowes and I were talking----" + +"If Clowes was there he was probably talking. Well?" + +"About your brother." + +"Oh, by Jove," said Bob, sitting up. "That reminds me. I forgot to get +the evening paper. Did he get his century all right?" + +"Who?" asked Trevor, bewildered. + +"My brother, J. W. He'd made sixty-three not out against Kent in this +morning's paper. What happened?" + +"I didn't get a paper either. I didn't mean that brother. I meant the +one here." + +"Oh, Mike? What's Mike been up to?" + +"Nothing as yet, that I know of; but, I say, you know, he seems a +great pal of Wyatt's." + +"I know. I spoke to him about it." + +"Oh, you did? That's all right, then." + +"Not that there's anything wrong with Wyatt." + +"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." + +"Don't blame him." + +"Nor do I. Rather rot, though, if he lugged your brother into a row by +accident." + +"I should get blamed. I think I'll speak to him again." + +"I should, I think." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I've done that. Smith said he'd speak to him." + +"That's all right then. Is that a new bat?" + +"Got it to-day. Smashed my other yesterday--against the school house." + +Donaldson's had played a friendly with the school house during the +last two days, and had beaten them. + +"I thought I heard it go. You were rather in form." + +"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. + +"I should think you're bound to get your first all right." + +"Hope so. I see Mike's playing for the second against the O.W.s." + +"Yes. Pretty good for his first term. You have a pro. to coach you in +the holidays, don't you?" + +"Yes. I didn't go to him much this last time. I was away a lot. But +Mike fairly lived inside the net." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Sort of infant prodigy," said Trevor. "Don't think he's quite up to +it yet, though." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A ROW WITH THE TOWN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This was the 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. + + "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. + + "Your loving son, + + "MIKE. + + "P.S.--I say, I suppose you couldn't send me five bob, could you? I'm + rather broke. + + "P.P.S.--Half-a-crown would do, only I'd rather it was five bob." + +And, on the back of the envelope, these words: "Or a bob would be +better than nothing." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But there were others. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Possibly, if the town brigade had stuck to a purely verbal form of +attack, all might yet have been peace. Words can be overlooked. + +But tomatoes cannot. + +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. + +In the present crisis, the first tomato was enough to set matters +moving. + +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. + +There was a moment of suspense. Wyatt took out his handkerchief and +wiped his face, over which the succulent vegetable had spread itself. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The leaders were beyond recall, but two remained, tackled low by Wyatt +and Clowes after the fashion of the football-field. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Let's chuck 'em in there," he said. + +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. + +"Now then," it said, "what's all this?" + +A stout figure in policeman's uniform was standing surveying them with +the aid of a small bull's-eye lantern. + +"What's all this?" + +"It's all right," said Wyatt. + +"All right, is it? What's on?" + +One of the prisoners spoke. + +"Make 'em leave hold of us, Mr. Butt. They're a-going to chuck us in +the pond." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I don't want none of your lip, whoever you are," said Mr. Butt, +understanding but dimly, and suspecting impudence by instinct. + +"This is quite a private matter," said Wyatt. "You run along on your +beat. You can't do anything here." + +"Ho!" + +"Shove 'em in, you chaps." + +"Stop!" From Mr. Butt. + +"Oo-er!" From prisoner number one. + +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. + +Wyatt turned to the other prisoner. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The dark waters were lashed into a maelstrom; and then two streaming +figures squelched up the further bank. + +[Illustration: THE DARK WATERS WERE LASHED INTO A MAELSTROM] + +The school stood in silent consternation. It was no occasion for light +apologies. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BEFORE THE STORM + + +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.) + +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. + +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. + +Following the chain of events, we find Mr. Butt, having prudently +changed his clothes, calling upon the headmaster. + +The headmaster was grave and sympathetic; Mr. Butt fierce and +revengeful. + +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. + +"Threw me in, they did, sir. Yes, sir." + +"Threw you in!" + +"Yes, sir. _Plop_!" said Mr. Butt, with a certain sad relish. + +"Really, really!" said the headmaster. "Indeed! This is--dear me! I +shall certainly--They threw you in!--Yes, I shall--certainly----" + +Encouraged by this appreciative reception of his story, Mr. Butt +started it again, right from the beginning. + +"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 _was_ a frakkus!" + +"And these boys actually threw you into the pond?" + +"_Plop_, 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 +_'ave_ you been a-doing? You're all wet.' And," he added, again +with the confidential air, "I _was_ wet, too. Wringin' wet." + +The headmaster's frown deepened. + +"And you are certain that your assailants were boys from the school?" + +"Sure as I am that I'm sitting here, sir. They all 'ad their caps on +their heads, sir." + +"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----" + +"_Splish_, sir!" said the policeman, with a vividness of imagery +both surprising and gratifying. + +The headmaster tapped restlessly on the floor with his foot. + +"How many boys were there?" he asked. + +"Couple of 'undred, sir," said Mr. Butt promptly. + +"Two hundred!" + +"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." + +"H'm--Well, I will look into the matter at once. They shall be +punished." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Ye-e-s--H'm--Yes--Most severely." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Yes--Thank you, constable. Good-night." + +"Good-night, sir." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The step which the headmaster decided to take by way of avenging Mr. +Butt's wrongs was to stop this holiday. + +He gave out a notice to that effect on the Monday. + +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.... + +And here they were, right in it after all. The blow had fallen, and +crushed guilty and innocent alike. + + * * * * * + +The school's attitude can be summed up in three words. It was one +vast, blank, astounded "Here, I say!" + +Everybody was saying it, though not always in those words. When +condensed, everybody's comment on the situation came to that. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Wyatt. + +"Well," said Neville-Smith a little awkwardly, guiltily conscious that +he had been frothing, and scenting sarcasm, "I don't suppose one can +actually _do_ anything." + +"Why not?" said Wyatt. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why don't you take the holiday?" + +"What? Not turn up on Friday!" + +"Yes. I'm not going to." + +Neville-Smith stopped and stared. Wyatt was unmoved. + +"You're what?" + +"I simply sha'n't go to school." + +"You're rotting." + +"All right." + +"No, but, I say, ragging barred. Are you just going to cut off, though +the holiday's been stopped?" + +"That's the idea." + +"You'll get sacked." + +"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." + +"By Jove, nor could they! I say!" + +They walked on, Neville-Smith's mind in a whirl, Wyatt whistling. + +"I say," said Neville-Smith after a pause. "It would be a bit of a +rag." + +"Not bad." + +"Do you think the chaps would do it?" + +"If they understood they wouldn't be alone." + +Another pause. + +"Shall I ask some of them?" said Neville-Smith. + +"Do." + +"I could get quite a lot, I believe." + +"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." + +"I say, what a score, wouldn't it be?" + +"Yes." + +"I'll speak to the chaps to-night, and let you know." + +"All right," said Wyatt. "Tell them that I shall be going anyhow. I +should be glad of a little company." + + * * * * * + +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. + +An air of expectancy permeated each of the houses. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE GREAT PICNIC + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And yet--where was everybody? + +Time only deepened the mystery. The form-rooms, like the gravel, were +empty. + +The cyclists looked at one another in astonishment. What could it +mean? + +It was an occasion on which sane people wonder if their brains are not +playing them some unaccountable trick. + +"I say," said Willoughby, of the Lower Fifth, to Brown, the only other +occupant of the form-room, "the old man _did_ stop the holiday +to-day, didn't he?" + +"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." + +"So do I. I can't make it out. Where _is_ everybody?" + +"They can't _all_ be late." + +"Somebody would have turned up by now. Why, it's just striking." + +"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." + +"So should I." + +"Hullo, here _is_ somebody." + +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. + +"Willoughby. Brown. Are you the only two here? Where is everybody?" + +"Please, sir, we don't know. We were just wondering." + +"Have you seen nobody?" + +"No, sir." + +"We were just wondering, sir, if the holiday had been put on again, +after all." + +"I've heard nothing about it. I should have received some sort of +intimation if it had been." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you mean to say that you have seen _nobody_, Brown?" + +"Only about a dozen fellows, sir. The usual lot who come on bikes, +sir." + +"None of the boarders?" + +"No, sir. Not a single one." + +"This is extraordinary." + +Mr. Spence pondered. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +A brisk conversation was going on. Several voices hailed Mr. Spence as +he entered. + +"Hullo, Spence. Are you alone in the world too?" + +"Any of your boys turned up, Spence?" + +"You in the same condition as we are, Spence?" + +Mr. Spence seated himself on the table. + +"Haven't any of your fellows turned up, either?" he said. + +"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 be 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"It is most mysterious," agreed Mr. Wain, plucking at his beard. +"Exceedingly so." + +The younger masters, notably Mr. Spence and Mr. Seymour, had begun to +look on the thing as a huge jest. + +"We had better teach ourselves," said Mr. Seymour. "Spence, do a +hundred lines for laughing in form." + +The door burst open. + +"Hullo, here's another scholastic Little Bo-Peep," said Mr. Seymour. +"Well, Appleby, have you lost your sheep, too?" + +"You don't mean to tell me----" began Mr. Appleby. + +"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.?" + +"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." + +"What does it all mean?" exclaimed Mr. Appleby. + +"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." + +"They surely cannot----!" + +"Well, where are they then?" + +"Do you seriously mean that the entire school has--has +_rebelled_?" + +"'Nay, sire,'" quoted Mr. Spence, "'a revolution!'" + +"I never heard of such a thing!" + +"We're making history," said Mr. Seymour. + +"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." + +"It is deplorable," said Mr. Wain, with austerity. "Exceedingly so." + +"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----!" + +Mr. Seymour got up. + +"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 _are_?" + +"Look at Shields," said Mr. Spence. "He might be posing for a statue +to be called 'Despair!' He reminds me of Macduff. _Macbeth_, Act +iv., somewhere near the end. 'What, all my pretty chickens, at one +fell swoop?' That's what Shields is saying to himself." + +"It's all very well to make a joke of it, Spence," said Mr. Shields +querulously, "but it is most disturbing. Most." + +"Exceedingly," agreed Mr. Wain. + +The bereaved company of masters walked on up the stairs that led to +the Great Hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CONCLUSION OF THE PICNIC + + +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. + +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. + +This morning there was a mere handful, and the place looked worse than +empty. + +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. + +In the Masters' library Mr. Wain and Mr. Shields, the spokesmen of the +Common Room, were breaking the news to the headmaster. + +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. + +"You say that the whole school is absent?" he remarked quietly. + +Mr. Shields, in a long-winded flow of words, replied that that was +what he did say. + +"Ah!" said the headmaster. + +There was a silence. + +"'M!" said the headmaster. + +There was another silence. + +"Ye--e--s!" said the headmaster. + +He then led the way into the Hall. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The headmaster bent down from the dais and called to Firby-Smith, who +was standing in his place with the Sixth. + +The Gazeka, blushing warmly, stepped forward. + +"Bring me a school list, Firby-Smith," said the headmaster. + +The Gazeka was wearing a pair of very squeaky boots that morning. They +sounded deafening as he walked out of the room. + +The school waited. + +Presently a distant squeaking was heard, and Firby-Smith returned, +bearing a large sheet of paper. + +The headmaster thanked him, and spread it out on the reading-desk. + +Then, calmly, as if it were an occurrence of every day, he began to +call the roll. + +"Abney." + +No answer. + +"Adams." + +No answer. + +"Allenby." + +"Here, sir," from a table at the end of the room. Allenby was a +prefect, in the Science Sixth. + +The headmaster made a mark against his name with a pencil. + +"Arkwright." + +No answer. + +He began to call the names more rapidly. + +"Arlington. Arthur. Ashe. Aston." + +"Here, sir," in a shrill treble from the rider in motorcars. + +The headmaster made another tick. + +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. + +"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." + +("Good work," murmured Mr. Seymour to himself. "Looks as if we +should get that holiday after all.") + +"The Sixth Form will go to their form-room as usual. I should like +to speak to the masters for a moment." + +He nodded dismissal to the school. + +The masters collected on the daïs. + +"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." + +"That," said Mr. Seymour to Mr. Spence, as they went downstairs, "is +what I call a genuine sportsman." + +"My opinion neatly expressed," said Mr. Spence. "Come on the river. Or +shall we put up a net, and have a knock?" + +"River, I think. Meet you at the boat-house." + +"All right. Don't be long." + +"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." + +"Pity one can't. It seems to me the ideal state of things. Ensures the +greatest happiness of the greatest number." + +"I say! Suppose the school has gone up the river, too, and we meet +them! What shall we do?" + +"Thank them," said Mr. Spence, "most kindly. They've done us well." + +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 _Worfield Intelligencer and Farmers' Guide_, 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 _Daily Mail_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +Wyatt, as generalissimo of the expedition, walked into the +"Grasshopper and Ant," the leading inn of the town. + +"Anything I can do for you, sir?" inquired the landlord politely. + +"Yes, please," said Wyatt, "I want lunch for five hundred and fifty." + +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!" + +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. + +In the early afternoon they rested, and as evening began to fall, the +march home was started. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Bob Jackson, walking back to Donaldson's, met Wyatt at the gate, and +gazed at him, speechless. + +"Hullo," said Wyatt, "been to the nets? I wonder if there's time for a +ginger-beer before the shop shuts." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +MIKE GETS HIS CHANCE + + +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. + +This was the announcement. + +"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." + +He then gave the nod of dismissal. + +The school streamed downstairs, marvelling. + +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. + +Neville-Smith was among these premature rejoicers. + +"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." + +Wyatt was damping. + +"My dear chap," he said, "it's not over yet by a long chalk. It hasn't +started yet." + +"What do you mean? Why didn't he say anything about it in Hall, then?" + +"Why should he? Have you ever had tick at a shop?" + +"Of course I have. What do you mean? Why?" + +"Well, they didn't send in the bill right away. But it came all +right." + +"Do you think he's going to do something, then?" + +"Rather. You wait." + +Wyatt was right. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +"The following boys will go in to extra lesson this afternoon and next +Wednesday," it began. And "the following boys" numbered four hundred. + +"Bates must have got writer's cramp," said Clowes, as he read the huge +scroll. + + * * * * * + +Wyatt met Mike after school, as they went back to the house. + +"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." + +"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." + +"How do you mean?" + +"We got tanned," said Mike ruefully. + +"What!" + +"Yes. Everybody below the Upper Fourth." + +Wyatt roared with laughter. + +"By Gad," he said, "he is an old sportsman. I never saw such a man. He +lowers all records." + +"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." + +"Sting?" + +"Should think it did." + +"Well, buck up. Don't break down." + +"I'm not breaking down," said Mike indignantly. + +"All right, I thought you weren't. Anyhow, you're better off than I +am." + +"An extra's nothing much," said Mike. + +"It is when it happens to come on the same day as the M.C.C. match." + +"Oh, by Jove! I forgot. That's next Wednesday, isn't it? You won't be +able to play!" + +"No." + +"I say, what rot!" + +"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." + +"I should be awfully sick, if it were me." + +"Well, it isn't you, so you're all right. You'll probably get my place +in the team." + +Mike smiled dutifully at what he supposed to be a humorous sally. + +"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." + +"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. + +"I'm not rotting," said Wyatt seriously, "I'll suggest it to Burgess +to-night." + +"You don't think there's any chance of it, really, do you?" said Mike +awkwardly. + +"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." + +"I say," said Mike, overcome, "it's awfully decent of you, Wyatt." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"You rotter! You rotter! You _worm_!" he observed crisply, as +Wyatt appeared. + +"Dear old Billy!" said Wyatt. "Come on, give me a kiss, and let's be +friends." + +"You----!" + +"William! William!" + +"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." + +He struggled into his shirt--he was changing after a bath--and his +face popped wrathfully out at the other end. + +"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." + +"You haven't got a mind," grumbled Burgess. "You've got a cheap brown +paper substitute. That's your trouble." + +Wyatt turned the conversation tactfully. + +"How many wickets did you get to-day?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Why don't you play him against the M.C.C. on Wednesday?" said Wyatt, +jumping at his opportunity. + +"What? Are you sitting on my left shoe?" + +"No. There it is in the corner." + +"Right ho!... What were you saying?" + +"Why not play young Jackson for the first?" + +"Too small." + +"Rot. What does size matter? Cricket isn't footer. Besides, he isn't +small. He's as tall as I am." + +"I suppose he is. Dash, I've dropped my stud." + +Wyatt waited patiently till he had retrieved it. Then he returned to +the attack. + +"He's as good a bat as his brother, and a better field." + +"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." + +"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." + +Burgess hesitated. + +"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." + +Wyatt got up, and kicked the wall as a vent for his feelings. + +"You rotter," he said. "Can't you _see_ 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." + +Wyatt stopped for breath. + +"All right," said Burgess, "I'll think it over. Frightful gift of the +gab you've got, Wyatt." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE M.C.C. MATCH + + +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. + +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. + +He had almost reached the pavilion when one of the M.C.C. team came +down the steps, saw him, and stopped dead. + +"By Jove, Saunders!" cried Mike. + +"Why, Master Mike!" + +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. + +"Why, Master Mike, you don't mean to say you're playing for the school +already?" + +Mike nodded happily. + +"Isn't it ripping," he said. + +Saunders slapped his leg in a sort of ecstasy. + +"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." + +"Of course, I'm only playing as a sub., you know. Three chaps are in +extra, and I got one of the places." + +"Well, you'll make a hundred to-day, Master Mike, and then they'll +have to put you in." + +"Wish I could!" + +"Master Joe's come down with the Club," said Saunders. + +"Joe! Has he really? How ripping! Hullo, here he is. Hullo, Joe?" + +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. + +"Mike! You aren't playing!" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I'm hanged! Young marvel, isn't he, Saunders?" + +"He is, sir," said Saunders. "Got all the strokes. I always said it, +Master Joe. Only wants the strength." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Brother of yours?" asked the wicket-keeper. + +"Probably too proud to own the relationship, but he is." + +"Isn't there any end to you Jacksons?" demanded the wicket-keeper in +an aggrieved tone. "I never saw such a family." + +"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." + +"I _have_ won the toss," said the other with dignity. "Do you +think I don't know the elementary duties of a captain?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Burgess, however, was optimistic, as usual. "Better have a go for +them," he said to Berridge and Marsh, the school first pair. + +Following out this courageous advice, Berridge, after hitting three +boundaries in his first two overs, was stumped half-way through the +third. + +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. + +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. + +Then the great wicket-keeper took off the pads and gloves, and the +fieldsmen retired to posts at the extreme edge of the ground. + +"Lobs," said Burgess. "By Jove, I wish I was in." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bob Jackson went in next, with instructions to keep his eye on the +lob-man. + +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. + +Mike's heart jumped as he saw the bails go. It was his turn next. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"To leg, sir," said the umpire. + +"Don't be in a funk," said a voice. "Play straight, and you can't get +out." + +It was Joe, who had taken the gloves when the wicket-keeper went on to +bowl. + +Mike grinned, wryly but gratefully. + +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. + +Saunders ran to the crease, and bowled. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The lob bowler had taken himself off, and the Oxford Authentic had +gone on, fast left-hand. + +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. + +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. + +Mike walked away from the wickets with Joe and the wicket-keeper. + +"I'm sorry about your nose, Joe," said the wicket-keeper in tones of +grave solicitude. + +"What's wrong with it?" + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A SLIGHT IMBROGLIO + + +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 are. 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." + +Mike was a certainty now for the second. But it needed more than one +performance to secure the first cap. + +"I told you so," said Wyatt, naturally, to Burgess after the match. + +"He's not bad," said Burgess. "I'll give him another shot." + +But Burgess, as has been pointed out, was not a person who ever became +gushing with enthusiasm. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The following, _verbatim_, 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. + +"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." + +Mike departed, bursting with fury. + +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. + +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. + +"Come on," he shouted, prancing down the pitch. + +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. + +These are solemn moments. + +The only possible way of smoothing over an episode of this kind is for +the guilty man to grovel. + +Firby-Smith did not grovel. + +"Easy run there, you know," he said reprovingly. + +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. + +"Don't _laugh_, you grinning ape!" he cried. "It isn't funny." + +[Illustration: "DON'T _LAUGH_, YOU GRINNING APE"] + +He then made for the trees where the rest of the team were sitting. + +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. + +He avoided Mike on his return to the trees. And Mike, feeling now a +little apprehensive, avoided him. + +The Gazeka brooded apart for the rest of the afternoon, chewing the +insult. At close of play he sought Burgess. + +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. + +"I want to speak to you, Burgess," he said. + +"What's up?" said Burgess. + +"You know young Jackson in our house." + +"What about him?" + +"He's been frightfully insolent." + +"Cheeked you?" said Burgess, a man of simple speech. + +"I want you to call a prefects' meeting, and lick him." + +Burgess looked incredulous. + +"Rather a large order, a prefects' meeting," he said. "It has to be a +pretty serious sort of thing for that." + +"Frightful cheek to a school prefect is a serious thing," said +Firby-Smith, with the air of one uttering an epigram. + +"Well, I suppose--What did he say to you?" + +Firby-Smith related the painful details. + +Burgess started to laugh, but turned the laugh into a cough. + +"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." + +"He's frightfully conceited." + +"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." + +And the matter was left temporarily at that. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MIKE CREATES A VACANCY + + +Burgess walked off the ground feeling that fate was not using him +well. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Sportsman_ and _Field_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Busy, Bob?" he asked. + +"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?" + +"No, thanks. I say, Bob, look here, I want to see you." + +"Well, you can, can't you? This is me, sitting over here. The tall, +dark, handsome chap." + +"It's awfully awkward, you know," continued Burgess gloomily; "that +ass of a young brother of yours--Sorry, but he _is_ an ass, +though he's your brother----" + +"Thanks for the 'though,' Billy. You know how to put a thing nicely. +What's Mike been up to?" + +"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." + +Bob displayed interest and excitement for the first time. + +"Prefects' meeting! What the dickens is up? What's he been doing? +Smith must be drunk. What's all the row about?" + +Burgess repeated the main facts of the case as he had them from +Firby-Smith. + +"Personally, I sympathise with the kid," he added, "Still, the Gazeka +_is_ a prefect----" + +Bob gnawed a pen-holder morosely. + +"Silly young idiot," he said. + +"Sickening thing being run out," suggested Burgess. + +"Still----" + +"I know. It's rather hard to see what to do. I suppose if the Gazeka +insists, one's bound to support him." + +"I suppose so." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Burgess looked miserable. + +"I say, Bob," he said. + +"Yes?" + +"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. + +Bob went across to Wain's to interview and soothe Firby-Smith. + +He found that outraged hero sitting moodily in his study like Achilles +in his tent. + +Seeing Bob, he became all animation. + +"Look here," he said, "I wanted to see you. You know, that frightful +young brother of yours----" + +"I know, I know," said Bob. "Burgess was telling me. He wants +kicking." + +"He wants a frightful licking from the prefects," emended the +aggrieved party. + +"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." + +Firby-Smith looked a little blank at this. He had a great admiration +for Bob. + +"I didn't think of you," he said. + +"I thought you hadn't," said Bob. "You see it now, though, don't you?" + +Firby-Smith returned to the original grievance. + +"Well, you know, it was frightful cheek." + +"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?" + +"All right. After all, I did run him out." + +"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." + +"No. All right then." + +"Thanks," said Bob, and went to find Mike. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I say," said Burton, "I'm jolly glad you're playing for the first +against Geddington." + +"Thanks," said Mike. + +"I'm specially glad for one reason." + +"What's that?" inquired Mike, without interest. + +"Because your beast of a brother has been chucked out. He'd have been +playing but for you." + +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. + +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 +_all_ beasts. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Come in!" yelled the captain. "Hullo!" + +"I'm awfully sorry, Burgess," said Mike. "I've crocked my wrist a +bit." + +"How did you do that? You were all right at the nets?" + +"Slipped as I was changing," said Mike stolidly. + +"Is it bad?" + +"Nothing much. I'm afraid I shan't be able to play to-morrow." + +"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?" + +"Oh, yes, rather." + +"Hope so, anyway." + +"Thanks. Good-night." + +"Good-night." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AN EXPERT EXAMINATION + + +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. + +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. + +His telegram arrived during morning school. Mike went down to the +station to meet him after lunch. + +Uncle John took command of the situation at once. + +"School playing anybody to-day, Mike? I want to see a match." + +"They're playing Geddington. Only it's away. There's a second match +on." + +"Why aren't you--Hullo, I didn't see. What have you been doing to +yourself?" + +"Crocked my wrist a bit. It's nothing much." + +"How did you do that?" + +"Slipped while I was changing after cricket." + +"Hurt?" + +"Not much, thanks." + +"Doctor seen it?" + +"No. But it's really nothing. Be all right by Monday." + +"H'm. Somebody ought to look at it. I'll have a look later on." + +Mike did not appear to relish this prospect. + +"It isn't anything, Uncle John, really. It doesn't matter a bit." + +"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?" + +"I shouldn't be able to steer." + +"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." + +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! + +"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. + +"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." + +Uncle John detected the envious note. + +"I suppose you would have been playing here but for your wrist?" + +"No, I was playing for the first." + +"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?" + +"Depends on Bob." + +"Has Bob got your place?" + +Mike nodded. + +"If he does well to-day, they'll probably keep him in." + +"Isn't there room for both of you?" + +"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." + +"Rather awkward, that." + +"Still, it's Bob's last year. I've got plenty of time. But I wish I +could get in this year." + +After they had watched the match for an hour, Uncle John's restless +nature asserted itself. + +"Suppose we go for a pull on the river now?" he suggested. + +They got up. + +"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." + +Apparently Bob had not had a chance yet of distinguishing himself. The +telegram read, "Geddington 151 for four. Lunch." + +"Not bad that," said Mike. "But I believe they're weak in bowling." + +They walked down the road towards the school landing-stage. + +"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." + +"Pull your left," said Mike. "That willow's what you want." + +Uncle John looked over his shoulder, caught a crab, recovered himself, +and steered the boat in under the shade of the branches. + +"Put the rope over that stump. Can you manage with one hand? Here, let +me--Done it? Good. A-ah!" + +He blew a great cloud of smoke into the air, and sighed contentedly. + +"I hope you don't smoke, Mike?" + +"No." + +"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." + +A hunted expression came into Mike's eyes. + +"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. + +To Mike it seemed as if everything in the world was standing still and +waiting. He could hear nothing but his own breathing. + +His uncle pressed the wrist gingerly once or twice, then gave it a +little twist. + +"That hurt?" he asked. + +"Ye--no," stammered Mike. + +Uncle John looked up sharply. Mike was crimson. + +"What's the game?" inquired Uncle John. + +Mike said nothing. + +There was a twinkle in his uncle's eyes. + +"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?" + +Mike hesitated. + +"I only wanted to get out of having to write this morning. There was +an exam, on." + +The idea had occurred to him just before he spoke. It had struck him +as neat and plausible. + +To Uncle John it did not appear in the same light. + +"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." + +When in doubt, one may as well tell the truth. Mike told it. + +"I know. It wasn't that, really. Only----" + +"Well?" + +"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." + +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.) + +"Swear you won't tell him. He'd be most frightfully sick if he knew." + +"I won't tell him." + +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.... + +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. + +"Jove, I was nearly asleep. What's the time? Just on six? Didn't know +it was so late." + +"I ought to be getting back soon, I think. Lock-up's at half-past." + +"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." + +"There'll be another telegram, I should think," said Mike, as they +reached the school gates. + +"Shall we go and look?" + +They walked to the shop. + +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. + +It ran as follows: + + "Geddington 247 (Burgess six wickets, Neville-Smith four). + Wrykyn 270 for nine (Berridge 86, Marsh 58, Jackson 48)." + +Mike worked his way back through the throng, and rejoined his uncle. + +"Well?" said Uncle John. + +"We won." + +He paused for a moment. + +"Bob made forty-eight," he added carelessly. + +Uncle John felt in his pocket, and silently slid a sovereign into +Mike's hand. + +It was the only possible reply. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +ANOTHER VACANCY + + +Wyatt got back late that night, arriving at the dormitory as Mike was +going to bed. + +"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?" + +"Oh, better, thanks." + +Wyatt began to undress. + +"Any colours?" asked Mike after a pause. First eleven colours were +generally given in the pavilion after a match or on the journey home. + +"No. Only one or two thirds. Jenkins and Clephane, and another chap, +can't remember who. No first, though." + +"What was Bob's innings like?" + +"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." + +"I should have thought they'd have given him his colours." + +"Most captains would have done, only Burgess is so keen on fielding +that he rather keeps off it." + +"Why, did he field badly?" + +"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." + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Directness was always one of Burgess's leading qualities. + +"Look here, Bob. About your fielding. It's simply awful." + +Bob was all remorse. + +"It's those beastly slip catches. I can't time them." + +"That one yesterday was right into your hands. Both of them were." + +"I know. I'm frightfully sorry." + +"Well, but I mean, why _can't_ 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." + +"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." + +"Second be blowed! I want your batting in the first. Do you think +you'd really do better in the deep?" + +"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." + +"All right then. Try it." + +The conversation turned to less pressing topics. + + * * * * * + +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. + +As for Mike, he played for the second, and hoped for the day. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Among these was one Leather-Twigg, of Seymour's, better known in +criminal circles as Shoeblossom. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Punch_, sucked oranges, and thought of Life. + +Two days later Barry felt queer. He, too, disappeared from Society. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +BOB HAS NEWS TO IMPART + + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Tea?" + +"Tea!" said Neville-Smith scornfully. + +"Well, what then?" + +"Don't you ever have feeds in the dorms. after lights-out in the +houses?" + +"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?" + +"Eleven suit you?" + +"All right." + +"How about getting out?" + +"I'll do it as quickly as the team did to-day. I can't say more than +that." + +"You were all right." + +"I'm an exceptional sort of chap." + +"What about the Jacksons?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Not seen much of each other lately, Mike, what?" + +Mike murmured unintelligibly through a mouthful of bread-and-jam. + +"It's no good pretending it isn't an awkward situation," continued +Bob, "because it is. Beastly awkward." + +"Awful rot the pater sending us to the same school." + +"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." + +"You get on much better in the deep." + +"Bit better, yes. Liable at any moment to miss a sitter, though. Not +that it matters much really whether I do now." + +Mike stared. + +"What! Why?" + +"That's what I wanted to see you about. Has Burgess said anything to +you yet?" + +"No. Why? What about?" + +"Well, I've a sort of idea our little race is over. I fancy you've +won." + +"I've not heard a word----" + +"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 _Wrykynian_ +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_ 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.'" + +"Oh, rot," muttered Mike, wiping the sweat off his forehead. This was +one of the most harrowing interviews he had ever been through. + +"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." + +Mike looked at the floor, and said nothing. + +There was nothing much to _be_ said. + +"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." + +It was the custom at Wrykyn, when you congratulated a man on getting +colours, to shake his hand. They shook hands. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In this fermenting state Mike went into the house. + +The list of the team to play for Wain's _v_. 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. + + "All the above will turn out for house-fielding at 6.30 to-morrow + morning.--W. F.-S." + +"Oh, dash it," said Mike, "what rot! Why on earth can't he leave us +alone!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +MIKE GOES TO SLEEP AGAIN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mike thought he would take another minute. + +And during that minute there floated into his mind the question, Who +_was_ Firby-Smith? That was the point. Who _was_ he, after all? + +This started quite a new train of thought. Previously Mike had firmly +intended to get up--some time. Now he began to waver. + +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. + +Was this right, he asked himself. Was this proper? + +And the hands of the watch moved round to twenty to. + +What was the matter with his fielding? _It_ was all right. Make +the rest of the team fag about, yes. But not a chap who, dash it all, +had got his first _for_ fielding! + +It was with almost a feeling of self-righteousness that Mike turned +over on his side and went to sleep again. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Firby-Smith straightened his tie, and glared. + +"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?" + +Mike admitted that he had seen the notice. + +"Then you frightful kid, what do you mean by it? What?" + +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 _was_ a toothy weed; but he felt a firm conviction that +it would not be politic to say so. + +Happy thought: over-slept himself. + +He mentioned this. + +"Over-slept yourself! You must jolly well not over-sleep yourself. +What do you mean by over-sleeping yourself?" + +Very trying this sort of thing. + +"What time did you wake up?" + +"Six," said Mike. + +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. + +"Six!" + +"Five past." + +"Why didn't you get up then?" + +"I went to sleep again." + +"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." + +"I don't," said Mike indignantly. + +"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?" + +Mike said nothing. + +"Do--you--see, you frightful kid?" + +[Illustration: "DO--YOU--SEE, YOU FRIGHTFUL KID?"] + +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. + +Firby-Smith's manner became ominously calm. He produced a +swagger-stick from a corner. + +"Do you see?" he asked again. + +Mike's jaw set more tightly. + +What one really wants here is a row of stars. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +He left the dormitory, and Mike began to brood over his wrongs once +more. + +Wyatt came back, brandishing a jug of water and a glass. + +"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!" + +He put down the glass, and surveyed Mike, who had maintained a moody +silence throughout this speech. + +"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?" + +"It's only that ass Firby-Smith." + +"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." + +"He said I stuck on side." + +"Why?" + +"I don't know." + +"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?" + +"It was the house-fielding." + +"But you can't stick on side at house-fielding. I defy any one to. +It's too early in the morning." + +"I didn't turn up." + +"What! Why?" + +"Oh, I don't know." + +"No, but, look here, really. Did you simply bunk it?" + +"Yes." + +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. + +"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!'" + +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. + +"Nothing like this old '87 water," he said. "Such body." + +"I like you jawing about discipline," said Mike morosely. + +"And why, my gentle che-ild, should I not talk about discipline?" + +"Considering you break out of the house nearly every night." + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE TEAM IS FILLED UP + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Doctor Oakes thinks he will be back in school on Tuesday." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Bob got to it with one hand, and held it. His impetus carried him on +almost to where Burgess was standing. + +"Well held," said Burgess. + +"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. + +"I couldn't get both hands to it," he explained. + +"You're hot stuff in the deep." + +"Easy when you're only practising." + +"I've just been to the Infirmary." + +"Oh. How's Marsh?" + +"They wouldn't let me see him, but it's all right. He'll be able to +play on Saturday." + +"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. + +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. + +Then the Jekyll and Hyde business completed itself. He suppressed his +personal feelings, and became the cricket captain again. + +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. + +"What's up?" inquired Burgess. + +"Young Jackson, do you mean? Oh, nothing. I was only telling him that +there was going to be house-fielding to-morrow before breakfast." + +"Didn't he like the idea?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +He felt that he had been deceived in Mike. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +The crowd that collected the moment Burgess had walked off carried him +right up to the board. + +He looked at the paper. + +"Hard luck!" said somebody. + +Mike scarcely heard him. + +He felt physically sick with the shock of the disappointment. For the +initial before the name Jackson was R. + +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. + +Bob had beaten him on the tape. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MARJORY THE FRANK + + +At the door of the senior block Burgess, going out, met Bob coming in, +hurrying, as he was rather late. + +"Congratulate you, Bob," he said; and passed on. + +Bob stared after him. As he stared, Trevor came out of the block. + +"Congratulate you, Bob." + +"What's the matter now?" + +"Haven't you seen?" + +"Seen what?" + +"Why the list. You've got your first." + +"My--what? you're rotting." + +"No, I'm not. Go and look." + +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. + +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. + +"Congratulate you, Bob," he said awkwardly. + +"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. + +There was a short silence. + +"Jolly glad you've got it," said Mike. + +"I believe there's a mistake. I swear I heard Burgess say to Spence----" + +"He changed his mind probably. No reason why he shouldn't." + +"Well, it's jolly rummy." + +Bob endeavoured to find consolation. + +"Anyhow, you'll have three years in the first. You're a cert. for next +year." + +"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. + +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. + +"Heard from home lately?" inquired Mike. + +Bob snatched gladly at the subject. + +"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." + +"Thanks. It'll be something to do during Math." + +"Marjory wrote, too, for the first time in her life. Haven't had time +to look at it yet." + +"After you. Sure it isn't meant for me? She owes me a letter." + +"No, it's for me all right. I'll give it you in the interval." + +The arrival of the headmaster put an end to the conversation. + + * * * * * + +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. + +He was doing this in a literal as well as in a figurative sense when +Bob entered the school shop. + +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. + +"Hullo," said Mike amiably. "Got that letter?" + +"Yes. I'll show it you outside." + +"Why not here?" + +"Come on." + +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.' + +Bob led the way across the gravel and on to the first terrace. When +they had left the crowd behind, he stopped. + +"What's up?" asked Mike. + +"I want you to read----" + +"Jackson!" + +They both turned. The headmaster was standing on the edge of the +gravel. + +Bob pushed the letter into Mike's hands. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + + "DEAR BOB" (the letter ran),-- + + "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, + + "From your affectionate sister + + "Marjory." + +There followed a P.S. + + "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 _the_ + 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? + + "M. + + "P.P.S.--This has been a frightful fag to write." + +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 _ass_! 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! + +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. + +"Well?" said Bob. + +"How do you mean?" said Mike. + +"Did you read it?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, is it all rot, or did you--you know what I mean--sham a crocked +wrist?" + +"Yes," said Mike, "I did." + +Bob stared gloomily at his toes. + +"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 if +_for_? 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." + +"I didn't think you'd ever know. You wouldn't have if only that ass +Uncle John hadn't let it out." + +"How did he get to know? Why did you tell him?" + +"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." + +Bob scratched thoughtfully at the turf with a spike of his boot. + +"Of course, it was awfully decent----" + +Then again the monstrous nature of the affair came home to him. + +"But what did you do it _for_? Why should you rot up your own +chances to give me a look in?" + +"Oh, I don't know.... You know, you did _me_ a jolly good turn." + +"I don't remember. When?" + +"That Firby-Smith business." + +"What about it?" + +"Well, you got me out of a jolly bad hole." + +"Oh, rot! And do you mean to tell me it was simply because of that----?" + +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. + +"Anyhow, it's all over now," Mike said, "so I don't see what's the +point of talking about it." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +The hopelessness of the situation came over Bob like a wave. He looked +helplessly at Mike. + +"Besides," added Mike, "I shall get in next year all right. Half a +second, I just want to speak to Wyatt about something." + +He sidled off. + +"Well, anyhow," said Bob to himself, "I must see Burgess about it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +WYATT IS REMINDED OF AN ENGAGEMENT + + +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. + +To-day's Great Thought for Young Readers. Imitate this man. + +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. + +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. + +"Very rum," Bob agreed. "Still, what you say doesn't help us out much, +seeing that the point is, what's to be done?" + +"Why do anything?" + +Burgess was a philosopher, and took the line of least resistance, like +the man in the oak-tree. + +"But I must do something," said Bob. "Can't you see how rotten it is +for me?" + +"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 _are_, in it. +What's he got to grumble about?" + +"He's not grumbling. It's me." + +"What's the matter with you? Don't you want your first?" + +"Not like this. Can't you see what a rotten position it is for me?" + +"Don't you worry. You simply keep on saying you're all right. Besides, +what do you want me to do? Alter the list?" + +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 _not_ 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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You know perfectly well Mike's every bit as good as me." + +"He isn't so keen." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Fielding. He's a young slacker." + +When Burgess had once labelled a man as that, he did not readily let +the idea out of his mind. + +"Slacker? What rot! He's as keen as anything." + +"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." + +"Smith oughtn't to have told you." + +"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." + +"Oh, all right," said Bob. "I was afraid you mightn't be able to do +anything. So long." + +"Mind the step," said Burgess. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Thanks," said Neville-Smith, with a brilliant display of front teeth. + +"Feeling good?" + +"Not the word for it. I feel like--I don't know what." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Delighted. Anything for a free feed in these hard times. What time +did you say it was?" + +"Eleven. Make it a bit earlier, if you like." + +"No, eleven'll do me all right." + +"How are you going to get out?" + +"'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." + +"They ought to allow you a latch-key." + +"Yes, I've often thought of asking my pater for one. Still, I get on +very well. Who are coming besides me?" + +"No boarders. They all funked it." + +"The race is degenerating." + +"Said it wasn't good enough." + +"The school is going to the dogs. Who did you ask?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"You _will_ turn up, won't you?" + +"Nothing shall stop me." + +"Good man." + +As Wyatt was turning away, a sudden compunction seized upon +Neville-Smith. He called him back. + +"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." + +"Oh, that's all right," said Wyatt. "Don't you worry about me. I +should have gone out anyhow to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A SURPRISE FOR MR. APPLEBY + + +"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." + +Mike could not help thinking that for himself it was the very reverse, +but he did not state his view of the case. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Are you going?" + +"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." + +"When are you going to start?" + +"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." + +"Don't go getting caught." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He dropped cautiously into Appleby's garden, ran lightly across it, +and was in the lane within a minute. + +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. + +"What a night!" he said to himself, sniffing as he walked. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was just feeling for his matches to relight it when Wyatt dropped +with a slight thud into his favourite herbaceous border. + +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. + +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 _via_ 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. + +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. + +At this point it began to strike him that the episode affected him as +a schoolmaster also. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This was the conclusion to which Mr. Appleby came over his relighted +pipe. He could not let the matter rest where it was. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Can I have a word with you, Wain?" he said. + +"Appleby! Is there anything the matter? I was startled when you +tapped. Exceedingly so." + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +CAUGHT + + +"Got some rather bad news for you, I'm afraid," began Mr. Appleby. +"I'll smoke, if you don't mind. About Wyatt." + +"James!" + +"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." + +Mr. Appleby said this with a tinge of bitterness. The thing still +rankled. + +"James! In your garden! Impossible. Why, it is not a quarter of an +hour since I left him in his dormitory." + +"He's not there now." + +"You astound me, Appleby. I am astonished." + +"So was I." + +"How is such a thing possible? His window is heavily barred." + +"Bars can be removed." + +"You must have been mistaken." + +"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." + +"No, sit down, Appleby. Dear me, this is most extraordinary. +Exceedingly so. You are certain it was James?" + +"Perfectly. It's like daylight out of doors." + +Mr. Wain drummed on the table with his fingers. + +"What shall I do?" + +Mr. Appleby offered no suggestion. + +"I ought to report it to the headmaster. That is certainly the course +I should pursue." + +"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." + +"There is certainly something in what you say," said Mr. Wain on +reflection. + +"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." + +"I will. Yes. You are quite right, Appleby. That is a very good idea +of yours. You are not going?" + +"Must. Got a pile of examination papers to look over. Good-night." + +"Good-night." + +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 +_he_ 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. + +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.... + +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. + +He took a candle, and walked quietly upstairs. + +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. + +If further proof had been needed, one of the bars was missing from the +window. The moon shone in through the empty space. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Wain had arrived at this conclusion, and was beginning to feel a +little cramped, when Mike Jackson suddenly sat up. + +"Hullo!" said Mike. + +"Go to sleep, Jackson, immediately," snapped the house-master. + +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. + +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 _him_ (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! + +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 +_coup_. The most brilliant of _coups_ could effect nothing now. +Absolutely and entirely the game was up. + + * * * * * + +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. + +At that moment Mr. Wain relit his candle. + +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. + +"James!" said Mr. Wain. His voice sounded ominously hollow. + +Wyatt dusted his knees, and rubbed his hands together. "Hullo, is that +you, father!" he said pleasantly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MARCHING ORDERS + + +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. + +"You have been out, James?" + +It is curious how in the more dramatic moments of life the inane +remark is the first that comes to us. + +"Yes, sir," said Wyatt. + +"I am astonished. Exceedingly astonished." + +"I got a bit of a start myself," said Wyatt. + +"I shall talk to you in my study. Follow me there." + +"Yes, sir." + +He left the room, and Wyatt suddenly began to chuckle. + +"I say, Wyatt!" said Mike, completely thrown off his balance by the +events of the night. + +Wyatt continued to giggle helplessly. He flung himself down on his +bed, rolling with laughter. Mike began to get alarmed. + +"It's all right," said Wyatt at last, speaking with difficulty. "But, +I say, how long had he been sitting there?" + +"It seemed hours. About an hour, I suppose, really." + +"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!" + +"But look here, what'll happen?" + +Wyatt sat up. + +"That reminds me. Suppose I'd better go down." + +"What'll he do, do you think?" + +"Ah, now, what!" + +"But, I say, it's awful. What'll happen?" + +"That's for him to decide. Speaking at a venture, I should say----" + +"You don't think----?" + +"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 _Wisden_. That'll be me. Well, +I suppose I'd better go down. We'd better all get to bed _some_ +time to-night. Don't go to sleep." + +"Not likely." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +In the study Mr. Wain was fumbling restlessly with his papers when +Wyatt appeared. + +"Sit down, James," he said. + +Wyatt sat down. One of his slippers fell off with a clatter. Mr. Wain +jumped nervously. + +"Only my slipper," explained Wyatt. "It slipped." + +Mr. Wain took up a pen, and began to tap the table. + +"Well, James?" + +Wyatt said nothing. + +"I should be glad to hear your explanation of this disgraceful +matter." + +"The fact is----" said Wyatt. + +"Well?" + +"I haven't one, sir." + +"What were you doing out of your dormitory, out of the house, at that +hour?" + +"I went for a walk, sir." + +"And, may I inquire, are you in the habit of violating the strictest +school rules by absenting yourself from the house during the night?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"What?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"This is an exceedingly serious matter." + +Wyatt nodded agreement with this view. + +"Exceedingly." + +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. + +"I wish you wouldn't do that, father. Tap like that, I mean. It's +sending me to sleep." + +"James!" + +"It's like a woodpecker." + +"Studied impertinence----" + +"I'm very sorry. Only it _was_ sending me off." + +Mr. Wain suspended tapping operations, and resumed the thread of his +discourse. + +"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----" + +"No, sir." + +"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." + +"Of course," said Wyatt, approvingly. + +"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?" + +"The sack," said Wyatt laconically. + +"It is expulsion. You must leave the school. At once." + +Wyatt nodded. + +"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----" + +"After all, they only gain an extra fortnight of me." + +"You will leave directly I receive his letter. I shall arrange with +the headmaster that you are withdrawn privately----" + +"_Not_ the sack?" + +"Withdrawn privately. You will not go to school to-morrow. Do you +understand? That is all. Have you anything to say?" + +Wyatt reflected. + +"No, I don't think----" + +His eye fell on a tray bearing a decanter and a syphon. + +"Oh, yes," he said. "Can't I mix you a whisky and soda, father, before +I go off to bed?" + + * * * * * + +"Well?" said Mike. + +Wyatt kicked off his slippers, and began to undress. + +"What happened?" + +"We chatted." + +"Has he let you off?" + +"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." + +Mike was miserably silent. + +"Buck up," said Wyatt cheerfully. "It would have happened anyhow in +another fortnight. So why worry?" + +Mike was still silent. The reflection was doubtless philosophic, but +it failed to comfort him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE AFTERMATH + + +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. + +"Anybody seen young--oh, here you are. What's all this about Jimmy +Wyatt? They're saying he's been sacked, or some rot." + +[Illustration: "WHAT'S ALL THIS ABOUT JIMMY WYATT?"] + +"So he has--at least, he's got to leave." + +"What? When?" + +"He's left already. He isn't coming to school again." + +Burgess's first thought, as befitted a good cricket captain, was for +his team. + +"And the Ripton match on Saturday!" + +Nobody seemed to have anything except silent sympathy at his command. + +"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!" + +"Beastly," agreed Mike. + +"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." + +"All right," said Mike, without enthusiasm. The Wyatt disaster was too +recent for him to feel much pleasure at playing against Ripton +_vice_ his friend, withdrawn. + +Bob was the next to interview him. They met in the cloisters. + +"Hullo, Mike!" said Bob. "I say, what's all this about Wyatt?" + +"Wain caught him getting back into the dorm. last night after +Neville-Smith's, and he's taken him away from the school." + +"What's he going to do? Going into that bank straight away?" + +"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." + +"He'll find it rather a change, I expect. I suppose you won't be +seeing him before he goes?" + +"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." + +"I should like to say good-bye. But I don't suppose it'll be +possible." + +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. + +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. + +"I say, Jackson, is this true about old Wyatt?" + +Mike nodded. + +"What happened?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Mike. + +"It was absolutely my fault." + +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. + +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. + +"What's up?" asked Bob. + +"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?" + +"What's happened now?" + +"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." + +"Neville-Smith! Why, what's he been doing?" + +"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." + +"And the Old Man shoved him in extra?" + +"Next two Saturdays." + +"Are Ripton strong this year?" asked Bob, for lack of anything better +to say. + +"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." + +"Oh, well, you never know what's going to happen at cricket. I may +hold a catch for a change." + +Burgess grunted. + +Bob went on his way to the nets. Mike was just putting on his pads. + +"I say, Mike," said Bob. "I wanted to see you. It's about Wyatt. I've +thought of something." + +"What's that?" + +"A way of getting him out of that bank. If it comes off, that's to +say." + +"By Jove, he'd jump at anything. What's the idea?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE RIPTON MATCH + + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Mr. Wyatt?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"H'm ... Sportsman?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Cricketer?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Play football?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"H'm ... Racquets?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Everything?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"H'm ... Well, you won't get any more of it now." + +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 _Wrykynian_, +'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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Burgess, inspecting the wicket with Mr. Spence during the quarter to +eleven interval, was not slow to recognise this fact. + +"I should win the toss to-day, if I were you, Burgess," said Mr. +Spence. + +"Just what I was thinking, sir." + +"That wicket's going to get nasty after lunch, if the sun comes out. A +regular Rhodes wicket it's going to be." + +"I wish we _had_ Rhodes," said Burgess. "Or even Wyatt. It would +just suit him, this." + +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. + +"Who will go on first with you, Burgess?" + +"Who do you think, sir? Ellerby? It might be his wicket." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I should. And, above all, win the toss." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"We'll go in first, Mac," said Burgess, as they met on the pavilion +steps after they had changed. + +"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." + +"Heads." + +"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." + +"You'll put us in, I suppose?" + +"Yes--after us." + +"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." + +And Burgess went off to tell the ground-man to have plenty of sawdust +ready, as he would want the field paved with it. + + * * * * * + +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. + +So Ripton went in to hit. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +So far it was anybody's game. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +MIKE WINS HOME + + +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. + +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 _dénouement_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +The Ripton total was a hundred and sixty-six. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And in five minutes this had changed to a dull gloom. + +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. + +"It's that googly man," said Burgess blankly. + +"What's happened?" shouted a voice from the interior of the first +eleven room. + +"Morris is out." + +"Good gracious! How?" asked Ellerby, emerging from the room with one +pad on his leg and the other in his hand. + +"L.-b.-w. First ball." + +"My aunt! Who's in next? Not me?" + +"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. + +"Thought the thing was going to break, but it didn't." + +"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. + +"That chap'll have Berry, if he doesn't look out," he said. + +But Berridge survived the ordeal. He turned his first ball to leg for +a single. + +This brought Marsh to the batting end; and the second tragedy +occurred. + +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 _débris_ 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. + +A silence that could be felt brooded over the pavilion. + +The voice of the scorer, addressing from his little wooden hut the +melancholy youth who was working the telegraph-board, broke it. + +"One for two. Last man duck." + +Ellerby echoed the remark. He got up, and took off his blazer. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bob was the next man in. + +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. + +"You in next?" asked Ellerby. + +Mike nodded. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +The same idea apparently occurred to Burgess. He came to where Mike +was sitting. + +"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." + +"All right," said Mike. He was not quite sure whether he was glad or +sorry at the respite. + +"It's a pity old Wyatt isn't here," said Ellerby. "This is just the +sort of time when he might have come off." + +"Bob's broken his egg," said Mike. + +"Good man. Every little helps.... Oh, you silly ass, get _back_!" + +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. + +"Forty-one for four," said Ellerby. "Help!" + +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, _fortissimo_, 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. + +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. + +The melancholy youth put up the figures, 54, 5, 12, on the board. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"'S that?" shouted mid-on. Mid-on has a habit of appealing for +l.-b.-w. in school matches. + +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. + +The umpire shook his head. Mid-on tried to look as if he had not +spoken. + +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. + +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. + +Bob played out the over with elaborate care. + +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. + +"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." + +"You ass," said Berridge. "Don't say that, or he's certain to get +out." + +Berridge was one of those who are skilled in cricket superstitions. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was not kept long in suspense. De Freece's first ball made a +hideous wreck of his wicket. + +"Over," said the umpire. + +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.... + +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." + +"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. + +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. + +Mike took them. + +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. + +The last ball of the over he mishit. It rolled in the direction of +third man. + +"Come on," shouted Grant. + +Mike and the ball arrived at the opposite wicket almost +simultaneously. Another fraction of a second, and he would have been +run out. + +[Illustration: MIKE AND THE BALL ARRIVED ALMOST SIMULTANEOUSLY] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +That over was an experience Mike never forgot. + +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. + +Devenish came in to take the last ball of the over. + +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. + +The only person unmoved seemed to be de Freece. His smile was even +more amiable than usual as he began his run. + +The next moment the crisis was past. The ball hit the very centre of +Devenish's bat, and rolled back down the pitch. + +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. + +It seemed almost an anti-climax when a four to leg and two two's +through the slips settled the thing. + + * * * * * + +Devenish was caught and bowled in de Freece's next over; but the +Wrykyn total was one hundred and seventy-two. + + * * * * * + +"Good game," said Maclaine, meeting Burgess in the pavilion. "Who was +the man who made all the runs? How many, by the way?" + +"Eighty-three. It was young Jackson. Brother of the other one." + +"That family! How many more of them are you going to have here?" + +"He's the last. I say, rough luck on de Freece. He bowled rippingly." + +Politeness to a beaten foe caused Burgess to change his usual "not +bad." + +"The funny part of it is," continued he, "that young Jackson was only +playing as a sub." + +"You've got a rum idea of what's funny," said Maclaine. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +WYATT AGAIN + + +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. + +"I've had a letter from MacPherson," said Mr. Jackson. + +MacPherson was the vigorous and persevering gentleman, referred to in +a previous chapter, who kept a fatherly eye on the Buenos Ayres sheep. + +"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." + +"Has he been fighting a duel?" asked Marjory, interested. + +"Bushrangers," said Phyllis. + +"There aren't any bushrangers in Buenos Ayres," said Ella. + +"How do you know?" said Phyllis clinchingly. + +"Bush-ray, bush-ray, bush-ray," began Gladys Maud, conversationally, +through the bread-and-milk; but was headed off. + +"He gives no details. Perhaps that letter on Mike's plate supplies +them. I see it comes from Buenos Ayres." + +"I wish Mike would come and open it," said Marjory. "Shall I go and +hurry him up?" + +The missing member of the family entered as she spoke. + +"Buck up, Mike," she shouted. "There's a letter from Wyatt. He's been +wounded in a duel." + +"With a bushranger," added Phyllis. + +"Bush-ray," explained Gladys Maud. + +"Is there?" said Mike. "Sorry I'm late." + +He opened the letter and began to read. + +"What does he say?" inquired Marjory. "Who was the duel with?" + +"How many bushrangers were there?" asked Phyllis. + +Mike read on. + +"Good old Wyatt! He's shot a man." + +"Killed him?" asked Marjory excitedly. + +"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....'" + +"By Jove!" said Mike. + +"What a dreadful thing!" said Mrs. Jackson. + +"Anyhow, it was practically a bushranger," said Phyllis. + +"I told you it was a duel, and so it was," said Marjory. + +"What a terrible experience for the poor boy!" said Mrs. Jackson. + +"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?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND + + +Two years have elapsed and Mike is home again for the Easter holidays. + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo, Mike," she said, jumping up as he entered; "here you are--I've +been keeping everything hot for you." + +"Have you? Thanks awfully. I say--" his eye wandered in mild surprise +round the table. "I'm a bit late." + +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. + +Phyllis and Ella finished their dispute and went out. Marjory sat on +the table and watched Mike eat. + +"Your report came this morning, Mike," she said. + +The kidneys failed to retain Mike's undivided attention. He looked up +interested. "What did it say?" + +"I didn't see--I only caught sight of the Wrykyn crest on the +envelope. Father didn't say anything." + +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." + +"It can't be any worse than the horrid ones Mr. Blake used to write +when you were in his form." + +"No, that's a comfort," said Mike philosophically. "Think there's any +more tea in that pot?" + +"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." + +"Last summer he said he'd take me away if I got another one." + +"He didn't mean it really, I _know_ he didn't! He couldn't! +You're the best bat Wrykyn's ever had." + +"What ho!" interpolated Mike. + +"You _are_. 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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I wish I wasn't; it's a beastly responsibility." + +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. + +As he was walking towards the house, Phyllis met him. "Oh, I've been +hunting for you, Mike; father wants you." + +"What for?" + +"I don't know." + +"Where?" + +"He's in the study. He seems--" added Phyllis, throwing in the +information by way of a make-weight, "in a beastly wax." + +Mike's jaw fell slightly. "I hope the dickens it's nothing to do with +that bally report," was his muttered exclamation. + +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 _résumé_ 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. + +It was with a certain amount of apprehension, therefore, that Jackson +entered the study. + +"Come in, Mike," said his father, kicking the waste-paper basket; "I +want to speak to you." + +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. + +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. + +"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----" + +"Never mind about cricket now," said Mr. Jackson; "I want you to +listen to this report." + +"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. + +"It is," replied Mr. Jackson in measured tones, "your report; what is +more, it is without exception the worst report you have ever had." + +"Oh, I say!" groaned the record-breaker. + +"'His conduct,'" quoted Mr. Jackson, "'has been unsatisfactory in the +extreme, both in and out of school.'" + +"It wasn't anything really. I only happened----" + +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. + +"'French bad; conduct disgraceful----'" + +"Everybody rags in French." + +"'Mathematics bad. Inattentive and idle.'" + +"Nobody does much work in Math." + +"'Latin poor. Greek, very poor.'" + +"We were doing Thucydides, Book Two, last term--all speeches and +doubtful readings, and cruxes and things--beastly hard! Everybody says +so." + +"Here are Mr. Appleby's remarks: 'The boy has genuine ability, which +he declines to use in the smallest degree.'" + +Mike moaned a moan of righteous indignation. + +"'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." + +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. + +"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. + +Mike said nothing; there was a sinking feeling in his interior. + +"I shall abide by what I said." + +Mike's heart thumped. + +"You will not go back to Wrykyn next term." + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Jackson was sorry for Mike. He understood him, and for that reason +he said very little now. + +"I am sending you to Sedleigh," was his next remark. + +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 _play_ cricket! + +"But it's an awful hole," he said blankly. + +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. + +"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. + +"Mr. Barlitt speaks very highly of Sedleigh," added Mr. Jackson. + +Mike said nothing, which was a good deal better than saying what he +would have liked to have said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +SEDLEIGH + + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Young gents at the school, sir," said the porter, perceiving from +Mike's _distrait_ air that the boy was a stranger to the place, +"goes up in the 'bus mostly. It's waiting here, sir. Hi, George!" + +"I'll walk, thanks," said Mike frigidly. + +"It's a goodish step, sir." + +"Here you are." + +"Thank you, sir. I'll send up your luggage by the 'bus, sir. Which +'ouse was it you was going to?" + +"Outwood's." + +"Right, sir. It's straight on up this road to the school. You can't +miss it, sir." + +"Worse luck," said Mike. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This must be Sedleigh. + +Ten minutes' walk brought him to the school gates, and a baker's boy +directed him to Mr. Outwood's. + +There were three houses in a row, separated from the school buildings +by a cricket-field. Outwood's was the middle one of these. + +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. + +He inquired for Mr. Outwood, and was shown into a room lined with +books. Presently the door opened, and the house-master appeared. + +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. + +"Jackson?" he said mildly. + +"Yes, sir." + +"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?" + +Mike, who would not have recognised a Cluniac Priory if you had handed +him one on a tray, said he had not. + +"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----" + +"Shall I go across to the boys' part, sir?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo," he said. + +He spoke in a tired voice. + +"Hullo," said Mike. + +"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?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +PSMITH + + +"Jackson," said Mike. + +"Are you the Bully, the Pride of the School, or the Boy who is Led +Astray and takes to Drink in Chapter Sixteen?" + +"The last, for choice," said Mike, "but I've only just arrived, so I +don't know." + +"The boy--what will he become? Are you new here, too, then?" + +"Yes! Why, are you new?" + +"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?" + +Mike said he saw. Psmith thanked him with a certain stately old-world +courtesy. + +"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." + +"No?" said Mike. + +"No. I was superannuated last term." + +"Bad luck." + +"For Eton, yes. But what Eton loses, Sedleigh gains." + +"But why Sedleigh, of all places?" + +"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----" + +"Not Barlitt!" exclaimed Mike. + +"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 _you_ know Barlitt?" + +"His pater's vicar of our village. It was because his son got a +Balliol that I was sent here." + +"Do you come from Crofton?" + +"Yes." + +"I've lived at Lower Benford all my life. We are practically long-lost +brothers. Cheer a little, will you?" + +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. + +"Where were you before you came here?" asked Psmith. "You have heard +my painful story. Now tell me yours." + +"Wrykyn. My pater took me away because I got such a lot of bad +reports." + +"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?" + +"Rotten." + +"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?" + +"He doesn't seem a bad sort of chap. Bit off his nut. Jawed about +apses and things." + +"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." + +"I'm not going to play here, at any rate," said Mike. + +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. + +Psmith approved the resolve. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I vote we get some tea first somewhere." + +"Then let's beat up a study. I suppose they have studies here. Let's +go and look." + +They went upstairs. On the first floor there was a passage with doors +on either side. Psmith opened the first of these. + +"This'll do us well," he said. + +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. + +"Might have been made for us," said Psmith approvingly. + +"I suppose it belongs to some rotter." + +"Not now." + +"You aren't going to collar it!" + +"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." + +"But the real owner's bound to turn up some time or other." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +STAKING OUT A CLAIM + + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Just ready. What would you give to be at Eton now? I'd give something +to be at Wrykyn." + +"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." + +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!" + +"Hackenschmidt!" said Mike. + +"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." + +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. + +Psmith rose courteously from his chair, and moved forward with slow +stateliness to do the honours. + +"What the dickens," inquired the newcomer, "are you doing here?" + +[Illustration: "WHAT THE DICKENS ARE YOU DOING HERE?"] + +"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." + +"My name's Spiller, and this is my study." + +Psmith leaned against the mantelpiece, put up his eyeglass, and +harangued Spiller in a philosophical vein. + +"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----" + +"I want to know what----" + +"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. + +The victim of Fate seemed in no way consoled. + +"It's beastly cheek, that's what I call it. Are you new chaps?" + +"The very latest thing," said Psmith. + +"Well, it's beastly cheek." + +Mike's outlook on life was of the solid, practical order. He went +straight to the root of the matter. + +"What are you going to do about it?" he asked. + +Spiller evaded the question. + +"It's beastly cheek," he repeated. "You can't go about the place +bagging studies." + +"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." + +"Look here, I tell you what it----" + +"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.'" + +"Can't I! I'll----" + +"What _are_ you going to do about it?" said Mike. + +"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." + +"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 _are_ an +insignificant-looking little weed." + +"We'll see what Outwood says about it." + +"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." + +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. + +Mr. Outwood received them with the motherly warmth which was evidently +the leading characteristic of his normal manner. + +"Ah, Spiller," he said. "And Smith, and Jackson. I am glad to see that +you have already made friends." + +"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." + +Mr. Outwood received this eulogy with rather a startled expression, +and gazed at the object of the tribute in a surprised way. + +"Er--quite so, Smith, quite so," he said at last. "I like to see boys +in my house friendly towards one another." + +"There is no vice in Spiller," pursued Psmith earnestly. "His heart is +the heart of a little child." + +"Please, sir," burst out this paragon of all the virtues, "I----" + +"But it was not entirely with regard to Spiller that I wished to speak +to you, sir, if you were not too busy." + +"Not at all, Smith, not at all. Is there anything----" + +"Please, sir--" began Spiller. + +"I understand, sir," said Psmith, "that there is an Archaeological +Society in the school." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Please, sir--" said Spiller. + +"One moment, Spiller. Do you want to join, Smith?" + +"Intensely, sir. Archaeology fascinates me. A grand pursuit, sir." + +"Undoubtedly, Smith. I am very pleased, very pleased indeed. I will +put down your name at once." + +"And Jackson's, sir." + +"Jackson, too!" Mr. Outwood beamed. "I am delighted. Most delighted. +This is capital. This enthusiasm is most capital." + +"Spiller, sir," said Psmith sadly, "I have been unable to induce to +join." + +"Oh, he is one of our oldest members." + +"Ah," said Psmith, tolerantly, "that accounts for it." + +"Please, sir--" said Spiller. + +"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." + +"We shall be there, sir." + +"Capital!" + +"Please, sir--" said Spiller. + +"One moment, Spiller," said Psmith. "There is just one other matter, +if you could spare the time, sir." + +"Certainly, Smith. What is that?" + +"Would there be any objection to Jackson and myself taking Simpson's +old study?" + +"By all means, Smith. A very good idea." + +"Yes, sir. It would give us a place where we could work quietly in the +evenings." + +"Quite so. Quite so." + +"Thank you very much, sir. We will move our things in." + +"Thank you very much, sir," said Mike. + +"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?" + +"I'm afraid I have already promised it to Smith, Spiller. You should +have spoken before." + +"But, sir----" + +Psmith eyed the speaker pityingly. + +"This tendency to delay, Spiller," he said, "is your besetting fault. +Correct it, Edwin. Fight against it." + +He turned to Mr. Outwood. + +"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." + +"Quite so. An excellent arrangement, Smith. I like this spirit of +comradeship in my house. Then you will be with us on Saturday?" + +"On Saturday, sir." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +GUERRILLA WARFARE + + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"What can he do? Outwood's given us the study." + +"What would you have done if somebody had bagged your study?" + +"Made it jolly hot for them!" + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"And jam a chair against it." + +"_And_, as you rightly remark, jam a chair against it. But what +of the nightfall? What of the time when we retire to our dormitory?" + +"Or dormitories. I say, if we're in separate rooms we shall be in the +cart." + +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." + +"We'd better nip down to the matron right off." + +"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." + +As they got up, the door handle rattled again, and this time there +followed a knocking. + +"This must be an emissary of Comrade Spiller's," said Psmith. "Let us +parley with the man." + +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. + +"I just came up to have a look at you," he explained. + +"If you move a little to the left," said Psmith, "you will catch the +light and shade effects on Jackson's face better." + +The new-comer giggled with renewed vigour. "Are you the chap with the +eyeglass who jaws all the time?" + +"I _do_ wear an eyeglass," said Psmith; "as to the rest of the +description----" + +"My name's Jellicoe." + +"Mine is Psmith--P-s-m-i-t-h--one of the Shropshire Psmiths. The +object on the skyline is Comrade Jackson." + +"Old Spiller," giggled Jellicoe, "is cursing you like anything +downstairs. You _are_ chaps! Do you mean to say you simply bagged +his study? He's making no end of a row about it." + +"Spiller's fiery nature is a byword," said Psmith. + +"What's he going to do?" asked Mike, in his practical way. + +"He's going to get the chaps to turn you out." + +"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?" + +"Me? No fear! I think Spiller's an ass." + +"There's nothing like a common thought for binding people together. +_I_ think Spiller's an ass." + +"How many _will_ there be, then?" asked Mike. + +"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." + +"Sturdy common sense," said Psmith approvingly, "seems to be the chief +virtue of the Sedleigh character." + +"We shall be able to tackle a crowd like that," said Mike. "The only +thing is we must get into the same dormitory." + +"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?" + +"Five--there's one with three beds in it, only it belongs to three +chaps." + +"I believe in the equal distribution of property. We will go to +Comrade Outwood and stake out another claim." + +Mr. Outwood received them even more beamingly than before. "Yes, +Smith?" he said. + +"We must apologise for disturbing you, sir----" + +"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." + +"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." + +"You make friends easily, Smith. I like to see it--I like to see it." + +"And we can have the room, sir?" + +"Certainly--certainly! Tell the matron as you go down." + +"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." + +"You _are_ a chap!" said Jellicoe. + +The handle began to revolve again. + +"That door," said Psmith, "is getting a perfect incubus! It cuts into +one's leisure cruelly." + +This time it was a small boy. "They told me to come up and tell you to +come down," he said. + +Psmith looked at him searchingly through his eyeglass. + +"Who?" + +"The senior day-room chaps." + +"Spiller?" + +"Spiller and Robinson and Stone, and some other chaps." + +"They want us to speak to them?" + +"They told me to come up and tell you to come down." + +"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?" + +Spiller advanced into the study; the others waited outside, crowding +in the doorway. + +"Look here," said Spiller, "are you going to clear out of here or +not?" + +"After Mr. Outwood's kindly thought in giving us the room? You suggest +a black and ungrateful action, Comrade Spiller." + +"You'll get it hot, if you don't." + +"We'll risk it," said Mike. + +Jellicoe giggled in the background; the drama in the atmosphere +appealed to him. His was a simple and appreciative mind. + +"Come on, you chaps," cried Spiller suddenly. + +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. + +"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." + +A heavy body crashed against the door. + +"They'll have it down," said Jellicoe. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Robinson. I say, you _are_ a chap!" + +"Robinson, was it? Well, we are always glad to see Comrade Robinson, +always. I wonder if anybody else is thinking of calling?" + +Apparently frontal attack had been abandoned. Whisperings could be +heard in the corridor. + +Somebody hammered on the door. + +"Yes?" called Psmith patiently. + +"You'd better come out, you know; you'll only get it hotter if you +don't." + +"Leave us, Spiller; we would be alone." + +A bell rang in the distance. + +"Tea," said Jellicoe; "we shall have to go now." + +"They won't do anything till after tea, I shouldn't think," said Mike. +"There's no harm in going out." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +"Shall we go down to the senior day-room, and have it out?" said Mike. + +"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?" + +"I think that's sound," said Mike. "We needn't drag Jellicoe into it." + +"As a matter of fact--if you don't mind--" began that man of peace. + +"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 _châlet_ 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, _ne pas_. 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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS + + +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. + +"And touching," said Psmith, "the matter of noise, must this business +be conducted in a subdued and _sotto voce_ manner, or may we let +ourselves go a bit here and there?" + +"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." + +"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!" + +"All the better," said Mike; "we don't want anybody butting in and +stopping the show before it's half started." + +"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?" + +"Barnes might," said Jellicoe, "only he won't." + +"Who is Barnes?" + +"Head of the house--a rotter. He's in a funk of Stone and Robinson; +they rag him; he'll simply sit tight." + +"Then I think," said Psmith placidly, "we may look forward to a very +pleasant evening. Shall we be moving?" + +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. + +"How about that door?" said Mike. "Shall we leave it open for them?" + +"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----" + +"I tell you what," said Mike, "how about tying a string at the top of +the steps?" + +"Yes, Napoleon would have done that, too. Hats off to Comrade Jackson, +the man with the big brain!" + +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. + +"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." + +"If they've got a candle----" + +"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!" + +"Right ho!" said Mike. + +"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." + +"You _are_ a chap!" said Jellicoe. + +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. + +There was a creaking sound. + +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. + +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---- + +CRASH! + +And at that point the proceedings may be said to have formally opened. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: PSMITH SEIZED AND EMPTIED JELLICOE'S JUG OVER SPILLER] + +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. + +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. + +"Hold the door for a second," cried Psmith, and vanished. Mike was +alone in the doorway. + +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. + +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. + +Stone drew back, and there was another interval for rest and +reflection. + +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. + +"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." + +The door closed behind Mike and himself. For ten minutes shufflings +and whisperings went on in the corridor, but nobody touched the +handle. + +Then there was a sound of retreating footsteps, and silence reigned. + +On the following morning there was a notice on the house-board. It +ran: + + 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +ADAIR + + +On the same morning Mike met Adair for the first time. + +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. + +"That's Adair," said Jellicoe, "in the middle." + +His voice had assumed a tone almost of awe. + +"Who's Adair?" asked Mike. + +"Captain of cricket, and lots of other things." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Briefly, he was a worker. He had heart. + +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. + +All it wanted now was opportunity. + +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 _likes_ 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. + +Adair was the exception. + +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. + +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 _the_ schools, and to be an +Old Sedleighan should be a badge passing its owner everywhere. + +"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!" + +"Sort of little tin god," said Mike, taking a violent dislike to Adair +from that moment. + +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. + +"'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 _had_ 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." + +"Both you chaps play cricket, I suppose?" + +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. + +"Haven't you _ever_ played?" + +"My little sister and I sometimes play with a soft ball at home." + +Adair looked sharply at him. A temper was evidently one of his +numerous qualities. + +"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." + +"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." + +Adair's jaw grew squarer than ever. Mike was wearing a gloomy scowl. + +Psmith joined suavely in the dialogue. + +"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." + +"Then you won't play?" + +"No," said Mike. + +"Archaeology," said Psmith, with a deprecatory wave of the hand, "will +brook no divided allegiance from her devotees." + +Adair turned, and walked on. + +Scarcely had he gone, when another voice hailed them with precisely +the same question. + +"Both you fellows are going to play cricket, eh?" + +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. + +"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." + +"We are, sir," said Psmith, with fervour. + +"Excellent." + +"On archaeology." + +Mr. Downing--for it was no less a celebrity--started, as one who +perceives a loathly caterpillar in his salad. + +"Archaeology!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"I never loaf, sir," said Psmith. + +"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." + +"A very wild lot, sir, I fear, the Archaeological Society here," +sighed Psmith, shaking his head. + +"If you choose to waste your time, I suppose I can't hinder you. But +in my opinion it is foolery, nothing else." + +He stumped off. + +"Now _he's_ cross," said Psmith, looking after him. "I'm afraid +we're getting ourselves disliked here." + +"Good job, too." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION + + +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 _v._ 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 _will_ 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." + +But every time he shrank from such a climb down. It couldn't be done. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +There were other exponents of the game, mostly in Downing's house. + +Altogether, quite worthy colleagues even for a man who had been a star +at Wrykyn. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Mike, as he sat there watching, could stand it no longer. + +He went up to Adair. + +"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. + +Adair was taking off his pads after his innings. He looked up. "This +net," it may be observed, was the first eleven net. + +"What?" he said. + +Mike repeated his request. More abruptly this time, from increased +embarrassment. + +"This is the first eleven net," said Adair coldly. "Go in after Lodge +over there." + +"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. + +Mike walked away without a word. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +He seemed to be consumed by a thirst for knowledge. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +Looking back, they saw that the archaeologists were still hard at it. +Their departure had passed unnoticed. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +He had not gone many yards when a dog emerged suddenly from the +undergrowth, and began to bark vigorously at him. + +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. + +He was too late. + +"Stop! What the dickens are you doing here?" shouted a voice behind +him. + +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. + +"I'm sorry if I'm trespassing," he said. "I was just having a look +round." + +"The dickens you--Why, you're Jackson!" + +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. + +"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." + +"I'm frightfully sorry." + +"That's all right. Where do you spring from?" + +"Of course--I remember you now. You're Prendergast. You made +fifty-eight not out." + +"Thanks. I was afraid the only thing you would remember about me was +that you took a century mostly off my bowling." + +"You ought to have had me second ball, only cover dropped it." + +"Don't rake up forgotten tragedies. How is it you're not at Wrykyn? +What are you doing down here?" + +"I've left Wrykyn." + +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. + +"I hang out down here. I do a little farming and a good deal of +pottering about." + +"Get any cricket?" asked Mike, turning to the subject next his heart. + +"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?" + +Mike's heart leaped. + +"Any Wednesday or Saturday. Look here, I'll tell you how it is." + +And he told how matters stood with him. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Rather. I suppose you can fix me up with a bat and pads? I don't want +to bring mine." + +"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." + +"I'll play on a rockery, if you want me to," said Mike. + + * * * * * + +"You're going to what?" asked Psmith, sleepily, on being awakened and +told the news. + +"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." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The weekly meetings were always full of life and excitement. + +At this point it is as well to introduce Sammy to the reader. + +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. + +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. + +In passing, Jellicoe owned a clock-work rat, much in request during +French lessons. + +We will now proceed to the painful details. + + * * * * * + +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. + +To-day they were in very fair form. + +As soon as Mr. Downing had closed the minute-book, Wilson, of the +School House, held up his hand. + +"Well, Wilson?" + +"Please, sir, couldn't we have a uniform for the Brigade?" + +"A uniform?" Mr. Downing pondered + +"Red, with green stripes, sir," + +Red, with a thin green stripe, was the Sedleigh colour. + +"Shall I put it to the vote, sir?" asked Stone. + +"One moment, Stone." + +"Those in favour of the motion move to the left, those against it to +the right." + +A scuffling of feet, a slamming of desk-lids and an upset blackboard, +and the meeting had divided. + +Mr. Downing rapped irritably on his desk. + +"Sit down!" he said, "sit down! I won't have this noise and +disturbance. Stone, sit down--Wilson, get back to your place." + +"Please, sir, the motion is carried by twenty-five votes to six." + +"Please, sir, may I go and get measured this evening?" + +"Please, sir----" + +"Si-_lence_! The idea of a uniform is, of course, out of the +question." + +"Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!" + +"Be _quiet!_ 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?" + +"Please, sir, may we have helmets?" + +"Very useful as a protection against falling timbers, sir," said +Robinson. + +"I don't think my people would be pleased, sir, if they knew I was +going out to fires without a helmet," said Stone. + +The whole strength of the company: "Please, sir, may we have helmets?" + +"Those in favour--" began Stone. + +Mr. Downing banged on his desk. "Silence! Silence!! Silence!!! Helmets +are, of course, perfectly preposterous." + +"Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!" + +"But, sir, the danger!" + +"Please, sir, the falling timbers!" + +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. + +"Silence!" + +"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." + +Mr. Downing smiled a wry smile. + +"Our Wilson is facetious," he remarked frostily. + +"Sir, no, sir! I wasn't facetious! Or couldn't we have footer-tops, +like the first fifteen have? They----" + +"Wilson, leave the room!" + +"Sir, _please_, sir!" + +"This moment, Wilson. And," as he reached the door, "do me one hundred +lines." + +A pained "OO-oo-oo, sir-r-r," was cut off by the closing door. + +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?" + +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. + +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. + +"May I fetch a book from my desk, sir?" asked Mike. + +"Very well--be quick, Jackson; we are busy." + +Being interrupted in one of his addresses to the Brigade irritated Mr. +Downing. + +The muffled cries grew more distinct. + +"What--is--that--noise?" shrilled Mr. Downing. + +"Noise, sir?" asked Mike, puzzled. + +"I think it's something outside the window, sir," said Stone +helpfully. + +"A bird, I think, sir," said Robinson. + +"Don't be absurd!" snapped Mr. Downing. "It's outside the door. +Wilson!" + +"Yes, sir?" said a voice "off." + +"Are you making that whining noise?" + +"Whining noise, sir? No, sir, I'm not making a whining noise." + +"What _sort_ 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. + +"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." + +"They are mowing the cricket field, sir," said the invisible Wilson. +"Perhaps that's it." + +"It may be one of the desks squeaking, sir," put in Stone. "They do +sometimes." + +"Or somebody's boots, sir," added Robinson. + +"Silence! Wilson?" + +"Yes, sir?" bellowed the unseen one. + +"Don't shout at me from the corridor like that. Come in." + +"Yes, sir!" + +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. + +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. + +Chaos reigned. + +"A rat!" shouted Robinson. + +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. + +Sammy had by this time disposed of the clock-work rat, and was now +standing, like Marius, among the ruins barking triumphantly. + +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. + +Mr. Downing shot out orders, threats, and penalties with the rapidity +of a Maxim gun. + +"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. _Quietly_, I said, Durand! Don't +shuffle your feet in that abominable way." + +Crash! + +"Wolferstan, I distinctly saw you upset that black-board with a +movement of your hand--one hundred lines. Go quietly from the room, +everybody." + +The meeting dispersed. + +"Jackson and Wilson, come here. What's the meaning of this disgraceful +conduct? Put that dog out of the room, Jackson." + +Mike removed the yelling Sammy and shut the door on him. + +"Well, Wilson?" + +"Please, sir, I was playing with a clock-work rat----" + +"What business have you to be playing with clock-work rats?" + +"Then I remembered," said Mike, "that I had left my Horace in my desk, +so I came in----" + +"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." + +"I met Sammy on the gravel outside and he followed me." + +"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." + +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. + +Mr. Downing allowed these facts to influence him in passing sentence. + +"One hundred lines, Wilson," he said. "You may go." + +Wilson departed with the air of a man who has had a great deal of fun, +and paid very little for it. + +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." + +And Mr. Downing walked out of the room. In affairs of this kind a +master has a habit of getting the last word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT + + +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. + +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. + +"What on earth for?" asked Mike. + +"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." + +"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." + +Jellicoe was profuse in his thanks, and disappeared in a cloud of +gratitude. + +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. + +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.) + +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. + +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. + +But the motives of the expedition were obviously friendly. Stone +beamed. Robinson was laughing. + +"You're a sportsman," said Robinson. + +"What did he give you?" asked Stone. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As for Mike, he now found them pleasant company, and began to get out +the tea-things. + +"Those Fire Brigade meetings," said Stone, "are a rag. You can do what +you like, and you never get more than a hundred lines." + +"Don't you!" said Mike. "I got Saturday afternoon." + +"What!" + +"Is Wilson in too?" + +"No. He got a hundred lines." + +Stone and Robinson were quite concerned. + +"What a beastly swindle!" + +"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." + +"'We are, above all, a keen school,'" quoted Stone. "Don't you ever +play?" + +"I have played a bit," said Mike. + +"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?" + +"I was at Wrykyn." + +"Why on earth did you leave?" asked Stone. "Were you sacked?" + +"No. My pater took me away." + +"Wrykyn?" said Robinson. "Are you any relation of the Jacksons +there--J. W. and the others?" + +"Brother." + +"What!" + +"Well, didn't you play at all there?" + +"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." + +There was a profound and gratifying sensation. Stone gaped, and +Robinson nearly dropped his tea-cup. + +Stone broke the silence. + +"But I mean to say--look here! What I mean is, why aren't you playing? +Why don't you play now?" + +"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." + +"But why not for the school?" + +"Why should I? It's much better fun for the village. You don't get +ordered about by Adair, for a start." + +"Adair sticks on side," said Stone. + +"Enough for six," agreed Robinson. + +"By Jove," said Stone, "I've got an idea. My word, what a rag!" + +"What's wrong now?" inquired Mike politely. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Bat. Why?" + +Robinson rocked on the table. + +"Why, old Downing fancies himself as a bowler. You _must_ play, +and knock the cover off him." + +"Masters don't play in house matches, surely?" + +"This isn't a real house match. Only a friendly. Downing always turns +out on Mid-term Service day. I say, do play." + +"Think of the rag." + +"But the team's full," said Mike. + +"The list isn't up yet. We'll nip across to Barnes' study, and make +him alter it." + +They dashed out of the room. From down the passage Mike heard yells of +"_Barnes_!" the closing of a door, and a murmur of excited +conversation. Then footsteps returning down the passage. + +Barnes appeared, on his face the look of one who has seen visions. + +"I say," he said, "is it true? Or is Stone rotting? About Wrykyn, I +mean." + +"Yes, I was in the team." + +Barnes was an enthusiastic cricketer. He studied his _Wisden_, +and he had an immense respect for Wrykyn cricket. + +"Are you the M. Jackson, then, who had an average of fifty-one point +nought three last year?" + +[Illustration: "ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON, THEN, WHO HAD AN AVERAGE OF +FIFTY-ONE POINT NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?"] + +"Yes." + +Barnes's manner became like that of a curate talking to a bishop. + +"I say," he said, "then--er--will you play against Downing's to-morrow?" + +"Rather," said Mike. "Thanks awfully. Have some tea?" + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S + + +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. + +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 +(_a_) the school is above all a keen school, (_b_) that all +members of it should play cricket, and (_c_) 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. + +Mr. Downing assumed it. + +He was walking to the field with Adair and another member of his team +when he came upon Mike. + +"What!" he cried. "Our Jackson clad in suit of mail and armed for the +fray!" + +This was Mr. Downing's No. 2 manner--the playful. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Indeed, Smith? You are not playing yourself, I notice. Your +enthusiasm has bounds." + +"In our house, sir, competition is fierce, and the Selection Committee +unfortunately passed me over." + + * * * * * + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The first over was a maiden, six dangerous balls beautifully played. +The fieldsmen changed over. + +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. + +Off the first ball of the master's over a leg-bye was run. + +Mike took guard. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This time the hope was fulfilled. + +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. + +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. + +"Get to them, Jenkins," said Mr. Downing irritably, as the ball came +back from the boundary. "Get to them." + +"Sir, please, sir----" + +"Don't talk in the field, Jenkins." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When a slow bowler starts to bowl fast, it is usually as well to be +batting, if you can manage it. + +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. + +And a shrill small voice, from the neighbourhood of the pavilion, +uttered with painful distinctness the words, "Take him off!" + +That was how the most sensational day's cricket began that Sedleigh +had known. + +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. + +Mike had then made a hundred and three. + + * * * * * + +As Mike was taking off his pads in the pavilion, Adair came up. + +"Why did you say you didn't play cricket?" he asked abruptly. + +[Illustration: "WHY DID YOU SAY YOU DIDN'T PLAY CRICKET?" HE ASKED] + +When one has been bowling the whole morning, and bowling well, without +the slightest success, one is inclined to be abrupt. + +Mike finished unfastening an obstinate strap. Then he looked up. + +"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." + +Adair was silent for a moment. + +"Will you play for us against the Old Sedleighans to-morrow?" he said +at length. + +Mike tossed his pads into his bag and got up. + +"No, thanks." + +There was a silence. + +"Above it, I suppose?" + +"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." + +There was another pause. + +"Then you won't play?" asked Adair. + +"I'm not keeping you, am I?" said Mike, politely. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Declare!" said Robinson. "Great Scott, what on earth are you talking +about?" + +"Declare!" Stone's voice was almost a wail of indignation. "I never +saw such a chump." + +"They'll be rather sick if we don't, won't they?" suggested Barnes. + +"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." + +"So do I," said Robinson. + +"If you declare, I swear I won't field. Nor will Robinson." + +"Rather not." + +"Well, I won't then," said Barnes unhappily. "Only you know they're +rather sick already." + +"Don't you worry about that," said Stone with a wide grin. "They'll be +a lot sicker before we've finished." + +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. + +These are the things which mark epochs. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_our_ 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.) + +A grey dismay settled on the field. + +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. + +Mike's pace had become slower, as was only natural, but his score, +too, was mounting steadily. + +"This is foolery," snapped Mr. Downing, as the three hundred and fifty +went up on the board. "Barnes!" he called. + +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. + +"Barnes!" + +"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." + +"This is absurd. You must declare your innings closed. The game has +become a farce." + +"Declare! Sir, we can't unless Barnes does. He might be awfully +annoyed if we did anything like that without consulting him." + +"Absurd." + +"He's very touchy, sir." + +"It is perfect foolery." + +"I think Jenkins is just going to bowl, sir." + +Mr. Downing walked moodily to his place. + + * * * * * + +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: + + OUTWOOD'S _v_. DOWNING'S + + _Outwood's. First innings._ + + J. P. Barnes, _c_. Hammond, _b_. Hassall... 33 + M. Jackson, not out........................ 277 + W. J. Stone, not out....................... 124 + Extras............................... 37 + ----- + Total (for one wicket)...... 471 + + Downing's did not bat. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF JELLICOE + + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I don't care," murmured Mike, shifting his aching limbs in the chair. + +"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." + +"He doesn't deserve to." + +Psmith smoothed his hair at the glass and turned round again. + +"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." + +This interested Mike, fagged as he was. + +"What! Three quid!" + +"Three jingling, clinking sovereigns. He wanted four." + +"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 _me_!" + +"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." + +"I got some from my brother at Oxford." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Are you asleep, Jackson?" + +"Who's that?" + +"Me--Jellicoe. I can't get to sleep." + +"Nor can I. I'm stiff all over." + +"I'll come over and sit on your bed." + +There was a creaking, and then a weight descended in the neighbourhood +of Mike's toes. + +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. + +"I say, Jackson!" he said. + +"Yes?" + +"Have you--oh, nothing." + +Silence again. + +"Jackson." + +"Hullo?" + +"I say, what would your people say if you got sacked?" + +"All sorts of things. Especially my pater. Why?" + +"Oh, I don't know. So would mine." + +"Everybody's would, I expect." + +"Yes." + +The bed creaked, as Jellicoe digested these great thoughts. Then he +spoke again. + +"It would be a jolly beastly thing to get sacked." + +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. + +"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!'" + +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. + +"Hullo?" he said. "What's up?" + +"Then you'd say. 'Hullo!' And then they'd say, 'What are you doing +here? 'And you'd say----" + +"What on earth are you talking about?" + +"About what would happen." + +"Happen when?" + +"When you got home. After being sacked, you know." + +"Who's been sacked?" Mike's mind was still under a cloud. + +"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." + +Mike dozed off again. + +"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!" + +"Hullo! What's the matter? Who's that?" + +"Me--Jellicoe." + +"What's up?" + +"I asked you if you'd got any sisters." + +"Any _what_?" + +"Sisters." + +"Whose sisters?" + +"Yours. I asked if you'd got any." + +"Any what?" + +"Sisters." + +"What about them?" + +The conversation was becoming too intricate for Jellicoe. He changed +the subject. + +"I say, Jackson!" + +"Well?" + +"I say, you don't know any one who could lend me a pound, do you?" + +"What!" cried Mike, sitting up in bed and staring through the darkness +in the direction whence the numismatist's voice was proceeding. "Do +_what_?" + +"I say, look out. You'll wake Smith." + +"Did you say you wanted some one to lend you a quid?" + +"Yes," said Jellicoe eagerly. "Do you know any one?" + +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? + +"What on earth do you want a pound for?" + +"I don't want to tell anybody. But it's jolly serious. I shall get +sacked if I don't get it." + +Mike pondered. + +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. + +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. + +Bob's postal order, which had arrived that evening, was reposing in +the breast-pocket of his coat. + +It was a wrench, but, if the situation was so serious with Jellicoe, +it had to be done. + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK-LIST + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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 _will_ have silence--you must hang back in order to +make a more effective entrance, like some wretched actor who--I will +_not_ have this shuffling. I have spoken of this before. Macpherson, +are you shuffling your feet?" + +"Sir, no, sir." + +"Please, sir." + +"Well, Parsons?" + +"I think it's the noise of the draught under the door, sir." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +It was through one of these batsmen that an accident occurred which +had a good deal of influence on Mike's affairs. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +When "Heads!" was called on the present occasion, Mike and Jellicoe +instantly assumed the crouching attitude. + +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. + +The bright-blazered youth walked up. + +"Awfully sorry, you know, man. Hurt?" + +Jellicoe was pressing the injured spot tenderly with his finger-tips, +uttering sharp howls whenever, zeal outrunning discretion, he prodded +himself too energetically. + +"Silly ass, Dunster," he groaned, "slamming about like that." + +"Awfully sorry. But I did yell." + +"It's swelling up rather," said Mike. "You'd better get over to the +house and have it looked at. Can you walk?" + +Jellicoe tried, but sat down again with a loud "Ow!" At that moment +the bell rang. + +"I shall have to be going in," said Mike, "or I'd have helped you +over." + +"I'll give you a hand," said Dunster. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION + + +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. + +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. + +Before he got there he heard his name called, and turning, found +Psmith seated under a tree with the bright-blazered Dunster. + +"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. + +"Is your name Jackson?" inquired Dunster, "because Jellicoe wants to +see you." + +"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." + +"Old Smith and I," said Dunster, "were at a private school together. +I'd no idea I should find him here." + +"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." + +"You still jaw as much as ever, I notice," said the animal delineator, +fondling the beginnings of his moustache. + +"More," sighed Psmith, "more. Is anything irritating you?" he added, +eyeing the other's manoeuvres with interest. + +"You needn't be a funny ass, man," said Dunster, pained; "heaps of +people tell me I ought to have it waxed." + +"What it really wants is top-dressing with guano. Hullo! another man +out. Adair's bowling better to-day than he did yesterday." + +"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." + +"Comrade Dunster went out to it first ball," said Psmith to Mike. + +"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." + +"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." + +"What was it Jellicoe wanted?" asked Mike; "was it anything +important?" + +"He seemed to think so--he kept telling me to tell you to go and see +him." + +"I fear Comrade Jellicoe is a bit of a weak-minded blitherer----" + +"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." + +"I shall count the minutes," said Psmith. + +Mike stretched himself; the sun was very soothing after his two hours +in the detention-room; he felt disinclined for exertion. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mike tilted his hat over his eyes and abandoned Jellicoe. + +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. + +Mike found him in a condition bordering on collapse. + +"I say, you might have come before!" said Jellicoe. + +"What's up? I didn't know there was such a hurry about it--what did +you want?" + +"It's no good now," said Jellicoe gloomily; "it's too late, I shall +get sacked." + +"What on earth are you talking about? What's the row?" + +"It's about that money." + +"What about it?" + +"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!" + +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." + +"It doesn't matter," said Jellicoe miserably; "it can't be helped." + +"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." + +Jellicoe sat up. "You can't! You'd get sacked if you were caught." + +"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." + +The toad-under-the-harrow expression began to fade from Jellicoe's +face. "I say, do you think you could, really?" + +"Of course I can! It'll be rather a rag." + +"I say, it's frightfully decent of you." + +"What absolute rot!" + +"But, look here, are you certain----" + +"I shall be all right. Where do you want me to go?" + +"It's a place about a mile or two from here, called Lower Borlock." + +"Lower Borlock?" + +"Yes, do you know it?" + +"Rather! I've been playing cricket for them all the term." + +"I say, have you? Do you know a man called Barley?" + +"Barley? Rather--he runs the 'White Boar'." + +"He's the chap I owe the money to." + +"Old Barley!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I shall bike there, I think," he said, "if I can get into the shed." + +The school's bicycles were stored in a shed by the pavilion. + +"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." + +"Got it on you?" + +"Smith's got it." + +"I'll get it from him." + +"I say!" + +"Well?" + +"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." + +"All right, I won't tell him." + +"I say, thanks most awfully! I don't know what I should have done, +I----" + +"Oh, chuck it!" said Mike. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +AND FULFILS IT + + +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. + +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. + +So Mike pedalled along rapidly, being wishful to get the job done +without delay. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +The place was shut, of course, and all the lights were out--it was +some time past eleven. + +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. + +After Mike had waited for a few minutes there was a rattling of chains +and a shooting of bolts and the door opened. + +"Yes, sir?" said the boots, appearing in his shirt-sleeves. "Why, +'ullo! Mr. Jackson, sir!" + +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. + +"I want to see Mr. Barley, Jack." + +"He's bin in bed this half-hour back, Mr. Jackson." + +"I must see him. Can you get him down?" + +The boots looked doubtful. "Roust the guv'nor outer bed?" he said. + +Mike quite admitted the gravity of the task. The landlord of the +"White Boar" was one of those men who need a beauty sleep. + +"I wish you would--it's a thing that can't wait. I've got some money +to give to him." + +"Oh, if it's _that_--" said the boots. + +Five minutes later mine host appeared in person, looking more than +usually portly in a check dressing-gown and red bedroom slippers of +the _Dreadnought_ type. + +"You can pop off, Jack." + +Exit boots to his slumbers once more. + +"Well, Mr. Jackson, what's it all about?" + +"Jellicoe asked me to come and bring you the money." + +"The money? What money?" + +"What he owes you; the five pounds, of course." + +"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. + +"Oh dear!" he said, "oh dear! the five pounds!" + +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. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"Five pounds!" + +"You might tell us the joke." + +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. + +"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----" + +Mike was reading the 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." + +There was some more to the same effect; it was signed "T. G. +Jellicoe." + +"What on earth's it all about?" said Mike, finishing this curious +document. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He proceeded to scale this water-pipe. + +He had got about half-way up when a voice from somewhere below cried, +"Who's that?" + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +PURSUIT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Oo-oo-oo yer!" was the exact remark. + +Whereby Mike recognised him as the school sergeant. + +"Oo-oo-oo yer!" was that militant gentleman's habitual way of +beginning a conversation. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Then the sound of footsteps returning, this time at a walk. They +passed the gate and went on down the road. + +The pursuer had given the thing up. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The other appeared startled. + +"Who the dickens is that?" he asked. "Is that you, Jackson?" + +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. + +"What are you doing out here, Jackson?" + +"What are you, if it comes to that?" + +Adair was lighting his lamp. + +"I'm going for the doctor. One of the chaps in our house is bad." + +"Oh!" + +"What are you doing out here?" + +"Just been for a stroll." + +"Hadn't you better be getting back?" + +"Plenty of time." + +"I suppose you think you're doing something tremendously brave and +dashing?" + +"Hadn't you better be going to the doctor?" + +"If you want to know what I think----" + +"I don't. So long." + +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. + +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. + +He walked in that direction. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was this. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +So Mr. Downing had had to be content with day drill. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Probably nobody has ever crammed more energetic work into four seconds +than he did then. + +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. + +And from the darkened house beyond there came a gradually swelling +hum, as if a vast hive of bees had been disturbed. + +The school was awake. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +THE DECORATION OF SAMMY + + +Smith 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. + +"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?" + +"I wonder who rang that bell!" said Stone. "Jolly sporting idea." + +"I believe it was Downing himself. If it was, I hope he's satisfied." + +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. + +"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." + +"I was in a beastly funk, I can tell you." + +Stone gurgled. + +"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." + +"I rushed into Downing's, and ragged some of the beds," said Robinson. + +"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----" + +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. + +"I say, have you chaps seen Sammy?" + +"Seen who?" said Stone. "Sammy? Why?" + +"You'll know in a second. He's just outside. Here, Sammy, Sammy, +Sammy! Sam! Sam!" + +A bark and a patter of feet outside. + +"Come on, Sammy. Good dog." + +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. + +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. + +"Good old Sammy!" + +"What on earth's been happening to him?" + +"Who did it?" + +Sharpe, the introducer, had no views on the matter. + +"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!" + +Mike was the first to show any sympathy for the maltreated animal. + +"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." + +"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." + +"There'll be a row about this," said Stone. + +"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." + +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. + +"I say," said Jellicoe, "I just wanted to thank you again about +that----" + +"Oh, that's all right." + +"No, but it really was awfully decent of you. You might have got into +a frightful row. Were you nearly caught?" + +"Jolly nearly." + +"It _was_ you who rang the bell, wasn't it?" + +"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." + +"All right. But, I say, you _are_ a chap!" + +"What's the matter now?" + +"I mean about Sammy, you know. It's a jolly good score off old +Downing. He'll be frightfully sick." + +"Sammy!" cried Mike. "My good man, you don't think I did that, do you? +What absolute rot! I never touched the poor brute." + +"Oh, all right," said Jellicoe. "But I wasn't going to tell any one, +of course." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You _are_ a chap!" giggled Jellicoe. + +Mike walked to chapel rather thoughtfully. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + +MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT + + +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. + +Then the happy laughter of the young onlookers reassured him. + +"Who--" he shouted, "WHO has done this?" + +[Illustration: "WHO--" HE SHOUTED, "WHO HAS DONE THIS?"] + +"Please, sir, we don't know," shrilled the chorus. + +"Please, sir, he came in like that." + +"Please, sir, we were sitting here when he suddenly ran in, all red." + +A voice from the crowd: "Look at old Sammy!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Dear me!" he said, deeply interested. "One of the boys at the school, +you think?" + +"I am certain of it," said Mr. Downing. + +"Was he wearing a school cap?" + +"He was bare-headed. A boy who breaks out of his house at night would +hardly run the risk of wearing a distinguishing cap." + +"No, no, I suppose not. A big boy, you say?" + +"Very big." + +"You did not see his face?" + +"It was dark and he never looked back--he was in front of me all the +time." + +"Dear me!" + +"There is another matter----" + +"Yes?" + +"This boy, whoever he was, had done something before he rang the +bell--he had painted my dog Sampson red." + +The headmaster's eyes protruded from their sockets. "He--he--_what_, +Mr. Downing?" + +"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. + +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. + +"It is a scandalous thing!" said Mr. Downing. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _via_ 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 _à propos_ +of some reflections on the subject of burglars in mediaeval England, +and passed it on to Mr. Downing as they walked back to lunch. + +"Then the boy was in your house!" exclaimed Mr. Downing. + +"Not actually in, as far as I understand. I gather from the sergeant +that he interrupted him before----" + +"I mean he must have been one of the boys in your house." + +"But what was he doing out at that hour?" + +"He had broken out." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Regardless of the claims of digestion, he rushed forth on the trail. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Having requested his host to smoke, which the latter was about to do +unasked, Mr. Downing stated his case. + +"Mr. Outwood," he said, "tells me that last night, sergeant, you saw a +boy endeavouring to enter his house." + +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'.'" + +"What did you do?" + +"Do? Oo-oo-oo! I shouts 'Oo-oo-oo yer, yer young monkey, what yer +doin' there?'" + +"Yes?" + +"But 'e was off in a flash, and I doubles after 'im prompt." + +"But you didn't catch him?" + +"No, sir," admitted the sergeant reluctantly. + +"Did you catch sight of his face, sergeant?" + +"No, sir, 'e was doublin' away in the opposite direction." + +"Did you notice anything at all about his appearance?" + +"'E was a long young chap, sir, with a pair of legs on him--feeflee +fast 'e run, sir. Oo-oo-oo, feeflee!" + +"You noticed nothing else?" + +"'E wasn't wearing no cap of any sort, sir." + +"Ah!" + +"Bare-'eaded, sir," added the sergeant, rubbing the point in. + +"It was undoubtedly the same boy, undoubtedly! I wish you could have +caught a glimpse of his face, sergeant." + +"So do I, sir." + +"You would not be able to recognise him again if you saw him, you +think?" + +"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." + +Mr. Downing rose to go. + +"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." + +"Young monkeys!" interjected the sergeant helpfully. + +"Good-afternoon, sergeant." + +"Good-afternoon to you, sir." + +"Pray do not move, sergeant." + +The sergeant had not shown the slightest inclination of doing anything +of the kind. + +"I will find my way out. Very hot to-day, is it not?" + +"Feeflee warm, sir; weather's goin' to break--workin' up for thunder." + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + +THE SLEUTH-HOUND + + +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. + +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: + +"My dear Holmes, how--?" and all the rest of it, just as the +downtrodden medico did. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +All these things passed through Mr. Downing's mind as he walked up and +down the cricket field that afternoon. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Your bicycle?" snapped Mr. Downing. Much thinking had made him +irritable. "What do you want with your bicycle?" + +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. + +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. + +He felt for his bunch of keys, and made his way to the shed, Riglett +shambling behind at an interval of two yards. + +Mr. Downing unlocked the door, and there on the floor was the Clue! + +A clue that even Dr. Watson could not have overlooked. + +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. + +"Pah!" said Mr. Downing. + +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! + +Riglett, who had been waiting patiently two yards away, now coughed +plaintively. The sound recalled Mr. Downing to mundane matters. + +"Get your bicycle, Riglett," he said, "and be careful where you tread. +Somebody has upset a pot of paint on the floor." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Yoicks! + +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. + +_Note one_: Interview the ground-man on this point. + +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. + +_Note two_ Interview Adair as to whether he found, on returning to +the house, that there was paint on his boots. + +Things were moving. + + * * * * * + +He resolved to take Adair first. He could get the ground-man's address +from him. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Paint, sir?" Adair was plainly puzzled. His book had been +interesting, and had driven the Sammy incident out of his head. + +"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?" + +"No, sir." + +"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?" + +"No, sir, my bicycle is always quite near the door of the shed. I +didn't go into the shed at all." + +"I see. Quite so. Thank you, Adair. Oh, by the way, Adair, where does +Markby live?" + +"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." + +"Thank you. I shall be able to find them. I should like to speak to +Markby for a moment on a small matter." + +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. + +"Oh, Markby!" + +"Sir?" + +"You remember that you were painting the scoring-box in the pavilion +last night after the match?" + +"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." + +"Just so. An excellent idea. Tell me, Markby, what did you do with the +pot of paint when you had finished?" + +"Put it in the bicycle shed, sir." + +"On the floor?" + +"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." + +"Of course, yes. Quite so. Just as I thought." + +"Do you want it, sir?" + +"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." + +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. + +Regardless of the heat, the sleuth-hound hurried across to Outwood's +as fast as he could walk. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + +A CHECK + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +He stared after the sleuth-hound, who had just entered the house. + +"What the dickens," said Mike, "does he mean by barging in as if he'd +bought the place?" + +"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?" + +"I'll be going on. I shall be under the trees at the far end of the +ground." + +"'Tis well. I will be with you in about two ticks." + +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. + +"A warm afternoon, sir," murmured Psmith courteously, as he passed. + +"Er--Smith!" + +"Sir?" + +"I--er--wish to go round the dormitories." + +It was Psmith's guiding rule in life never to be surprised at +anything, so he merely inclined his head gracefully, and said nothing. + +"I should be glad if you would fetch the keys and show me where the +rooms are." + +"With acute pleasure, sir," said Psmith. "Or shall I fetch Mr. +Outwood, sir?" + +"Do as I tell you, Smith," snapped Mr. Downing. + +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. + +"Shall I lead the way, sir?" he asked. + +Mr. Downing nodded. + +"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----" + +He broke off abruptly and began to watch the other's manoeuvres in +silence. Mr. Downing was peering rapidly beneath each bed in turn. + +"Are you looking for Barnes, sir?" inquired Psmith politely. "I think +he's out in the field." + +Mr. Downing rose, having examined the last bed, crimson in the face +with the exercise. + +"Show me the next dormitory, Smith," he said, panting slightly. + +"This," said Psmith, opening the next door and sinking his voice to an +awed whisper, "is where _I_ sleep!" + +Mr. Downing glanced swiftly beneath the three beds. "Excuse me, sir," +said Psmith, "but are we chasing anything?" + +"Be good enough, Smith," said Mr. Downing with asperity, "to keep your +remarks to yourself." + +"I was only wondering, sir. Shall I show you the next in order?" + +"Certainly." + +They moved on up the passage. + +Drawing blank at the last dormitory, Mr. Downing paused, baffled. +Psmith waited patiently by. An idea struck the master. + +"The studies, Smith," he cried. + +"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----" + +Mr. Downing stopped short. + +"Is this impertinence studied, Smith?" + +"Ferguson's study, sir? No, sir. That's further down the passage. This +is Barnes'." + +Mr. Downing looked at him closely. Psmith's face was wooden in its +gravity. The master snorted suspiciously, then moved on. + +"Whose is this?" he asked, rapping a door. + +"This, sir, is mine and Jackson's." + +"What! Have you a study? You are low down in the school for it." + +"I think, sir, that Mr. Outwood gave it us rather as a testimonial to +our general worth than to our proficiency in school-work." + +Mr. Downing raked the room with a keen eye. The absence of bars from +the window attracted his attention. + +"Have you no bars to your windows here, such as there are in my +house?" + +"There appears to be no bar, sir," said Psmith, putting up his +eyeglass. + +Mr Downing was leaning out of the window. + +"A lovely view, is it not, sir?" said Psmith. "The trees, the field, +the distant hills----" + +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. + +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. + +"Whom did you say you shared this study with, Smith?" + +"Jackson, sir. The cricketer." + +"Never mind about his cricket, Smith," said Mr. Downing with +irritation. + +"No, sir." + +"He is the only other occupant of the room?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Nobody else comes into it?" + +"If they do, they go out extremely quickly, sir." + +"Ah! Thank you, Smith." + +"Not at all, sir." + +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! + +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. + +"Smith!" he said excitedly. + +"On the spot, sir," said Psmith affably. + +"Where are Jackson's boots?" + +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. + +"His boots, sir? He has them on. I noticed them as he went out just +now." + +"Where is the pair he wore yesterday?" + +"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." + +"Would they have been cleaned yet?" + +"If I know Edmund, sir--no." + +"Smith," said Mr. Downing, trembling with excitement, "go and bring +that basket to me here." + +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. + + * * * * * + +He staggered back with the basket, painfully conscious the while that +it was creasing his waistcoat, and dumped is down on the study floor. +Mr. Downing stooped eagerly over it. Psmith leaned against the wall, +and straightened out the damaged garment. + +"We have here, sir," he said, "a fair selection of our various +bootings." + +Mr. Downing looked up. + +"You dropped none of the boots on your way up, Smith?" + +"Not one, sir. It was a fine performance." + +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. + +At last he made a dive, and, with an exclamation of triumph, rose to +his feet. In his hand he held a boot. + +"Put those back again, Smith," he said. + +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. + +"That's the lot, sir," he said, rising. + +"Ah. Now come across with me to the headmaster's house. Leave the +basket here. You can carry it back when you return." + +"Shall I put back that boot, sir?" + +"Certainly not. I shall take this with me, of course." + +"Shall I carry it, sir?" + +Mr. Downing reflected. + +"Yes, Smith," he said. "I think it would be best." + +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. + +Psmith took the boot, and doing so, understood what before had puzzled +him. + +Across the toe of the boot was a broad splash of red paint. + +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. + +"Can you tell me whose boot that is?" asked Mr. Downing. + +Psmith looked at it again. + +"No, sir. I can't say the little chap's familiar to me." + +"Come with me, then." + +Mr. Downing left the room. After a moment Psmith followed him. + +The headmaster was in his garden. Thither Mr. Downing made his way, +the boot-bearing Psmith in close attendance. + +The Head listened to the amateur detective's statement with interest. + +"Indeed?" he said, when Mr. Downing had finished. + +"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?" + +"I have it with me. I brought it on purpose to show to you. Smith!" + +"Sir?" + +"You have the boot?" + +"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 _you_ point out to me exactly where +this paint is that you speak of?" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER L + +THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE + + +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. + +Mr. Downing was the first to break the silence. + +"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?" + +"Paint, sir!" + +"What! Do you mean to tell me that you did _not_ see it?" + +"No, sir. There was no paint on this boot." + +"This is foolery. I saw it with my own eyes. It was a broad splash +right across the toe." + +The headmaster interposed. + +"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----" + +"I had an aunt, sir," said Psmith chattily, "who was remarkably +subject----" + +"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." + +"It is undoubtedly black now, Mr. Downing." + +"A sort of chameleon boot," murmured Psmith. + +The goaded housemaster turned on him. + +"What did you say, Smith?" + +"Did I speak, sir?" said Psmith, with the start of one coming suddenly +out of a trance. + +Mr. Downing looked searchingly at him. + +"You had better be careful, Smith." + +"Yes, sir." + +"I strongly suspect you of having something to do with this." + +"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." + +"Exactly, sir," said Psmith. "My theory, if I may----?" + +"Certainly, Smith." + +Psmith bowed courteously and proceeded. + +"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----" + +"Bah!" said Mr. Downing shortly. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I am sorry that you should leave your preparation till Sunday, Smith. +It is a habit of which I altogether disapprove." + +"I am reading it, sir," said Psmith, with simple dignity, "for +pleasure. Shall I take the boot with me, sir?" + +"If Mr. Downing does not want it?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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----" + +He dragged up another chair for his feet and picked up his novel. + +He had not been reading long when there was a footstep in the passage, +and Mr. Downing appeared. + +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. + +Mr. Downing was brisk and peremptory. + +"I wish to look at these boots again," he said. Psmith, with a sigh, +laid down his novel, and rose to assist him. + +"Sit down, Smith," said the housemaster. "I can manage without your +help." + +Psmith sat down again, carefully tucking up the knees of his trousers, +and watched him with silent interest through his eyeglass. + +The scrutiny irritated Mr. Downing. + +"Put that thing away, Smith," he said. + +"That thing, sir?" + +"Yes, that ridiculous glass. Put it away." + +"Why, sir?" + +"Why! Because I tell you to do so." + +"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. + +"Don't sit there staring at me, Smith." + +"I was interested in what you were doing, sir." + +"Never mind. Don't stare at me in that idiotic way." + +"May I read, sir?" asked Psmith, patiently. + +"Yes, read if you like." + +"Thank you, sir." + +Psmith took up his book again, and Mr. Downing, now thoroughly +irritated, pursued his investigations in the boot-basket. + +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. + +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. + +Then he caught sight of the cupboard, and something seemed to tell him +that there was the place to look. + +"Smith!" he said. + +Psmith had been reading placidly all the while. + +"Yes, sir?" + +"What is in this cupboard?" + +"That cupboard, sir?" + +"Yes. This cupboard." Mr. Downing rapped the door irritably. + +"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." + +"Open it." + +"I think you will find that it is locked, sir." + +"Unlock it." + +"But where is the key, sir?" + +"Have you not got the key?" + +"If the key is not in the lock, sir, you may depend upon it that it +will take a long search to find it." + +"Where did you see it last?" + +"It was in the lock yesterday morning. Jackson might have taken it." + +"Where is Jackson?" + +"Out in the field somewhere, sir." + +Mr. Downing thought for a moment. + +"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." + +Psmith got up. + +"I'm afraid you mustn't do that, sir." + +Mr. Downing stared, amazed. + +"Are you aware whom you are talking to, Smith?" he inquired acidly. + +"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." + +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----! + +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. + +He stood chewing these thoughts for awhile, Psmith in the meantime +standing in a graceful attitude in front of the cupboard, staring into +vacancy. + +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. + +"Smith," he said, "go and find Mr. Outwood, and ask him to be good +enough to come here for a moment." + + + + +CHAPTER LI + +MAINLY ABOUT BOOTS + + +"Be quick, Smith," he said, as the latter stood looking at him without +making any movement in the direction of the door. + +"_Quick_, sir?" said Psmith meditatively, as if he had been asked +a conundrum. + +"Go and find Mr. Outwood at once." + +Psmith still made no move. + +"Do you intend to disobey me, Smith?" Mr. Downing's voice was steely. + +"Yes, sir." + +"What!" + +"Yes, sir." + +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!" + +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. + +"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----'" + +"This impertinence is doing you no good, Smith." + +Psmith waved a hand deprecatingly. + +"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 _should_ +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?" + +"Go and fetch Mr. Outwood, Smith. I shall not tell you again." + +Psmith flicked a speck of dust from his coat-sleeve. + +"Very well, Smith." + +"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." + +Mr. Downing stalked out of the room. + +"But," added Psmith pensively to himself, as the footsteps died away, +"I did not promise that it would be the same boot." + +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. + +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. + +He returned to his place at the mantelpiece. + +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. + +The bathroom was a few yards down the corridor. He went there, and +washed off the soot. + +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. + +"Where have you been, Smith?" asked Mr. Downing sharply. + +"I have been washing my hands, sir." + +"H'm!" said Mr. Downing suspiciously. + +"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." + +"My dear Outwood," snapped the sleuth, "I thought I had made it +perfectly clear. Where is the difficulty?" + +"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-_no_-sense look on the other's face," +why he should not do so if he wishes it." + +"Exactly, sir," said Psmith, approvingly. "You have touched the spot." + +"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." + +"He painted--!" said Mr. Outwood, round-eyed. "Why?" + +"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?" + +Mr. Outwood looked amazedly at Smith, and Psmith shook his head +sorrowfully at Mr. Outwood. Psmith'a expression said, as plainly as if +he had spoken the words, "We must humour him." + +"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?" + +Mr. Outwood started. + +"Objection? None at all, my dear fellow, none at all. Let me see, +_what_ is it you wish to do?" + +"This," said Mr. Downing shortly. + +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. + +Mr. Downing uttered a cry of triumph, and tore the boot from its +resting-place. + +"I told you," he said. "I told you." + +"I wondered where that boot had got to," said Psmith. "I've been +looking for it for days." + +Mr. Downing was examining his find. He looked up with an exclamation +of surprise and wrath. + +"This boot has no paint on it," he said, glaring at Psmith. "This is +not the boot." + +"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. + +"Did you place that boot there, Smith?" + +"I must have done. Then, when I lost the key----" + +"Are you satisfied now, Downing?" interrupted Mr. Outwood with +asperity, "or is there any more furniture you wish to break?" + +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. + +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. + +"Dear me," he said, "I must remember to have the chimneys swept. It +should have been done before." + +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.") + +Mr. Downing's mind at that moment contained one single thought; and +that thought was "What ho for the chimney!" + +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. + +"Ah," he said. "I thought as much. You were not quite clever enough, +after all, Smith." + +"No, sir," said Psmith patiently. "We all make mistakes." + +"You would have done better, Smith, not to have given me all this +trouble. You have done yourself no good by it." + +"It's been great fun, though, sir," argued Psmith. + +"Fun!" Mr. Downing laughed grimly. "You may have reason to change your +opinion of what constitutes----" + +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. + +"Did--you--put--that--boot--there, Smith?" he asked slowly. + +[Illustration: "DID--YOU--PUT--THAT--BOOT--THERE, SMITH?"] + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then what did you _MEAN_ by putting it there?" roared Mr. +Downing. + +"Animal spirits, sir," said Psmith. + +"WHAT!" + +"Animal spirits, sir." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Soot!" he murmured weakly. "Soot!" + +"Your face is covered, my dear fellow, quite covered." + +"It certainly has a faintly sooty aspect, sir," said Psmith. + +His voice roused the sufferer to one last flicker of spirit. + +"You will hear more of this, Smith," he said. "I say you will hear +more of it." + +Then he allowed Mr. Outwood to lead him out to a place where there +were towels, soap, and sponges. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Psmith went to the bathroom to wash his hands again, with the feeling +that he had done a good day's work. + + + + +CHAPTER LII + +ON THE TRAIL AGAIN + + +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. + +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. + +So Psmith kept his own counsel, with the result that Mike went over to +school on the Monday morning in pumps. + +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. + +"'Ere's one of 'em, Mr. Jackson," he said, as if he hoped that Mike +might be satisfied with a compromise. + +"One? What's the good of that, Edmund, you chump? I can't go over to +school in one boot." + +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." + +"Well, what am I to do? Where is the other boot?" + +"Don't know, Mr. Jackson," replied Edmund to both questions. + +"Well, I mean--Oh, dash it, there's the bell." + +And Mike sprinted off in the pumps he stood in. + +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 _have_ you got on?" Masters say, +"Jones, _what_ 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.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mike, accordingly, had not been in his place for three minutes when +Mr. Downing, stiffening like a pointer, called his name. + +"Yes, sir?" said Mike. + +"_What_ are you wearing on your feet, Jackson?" + +"Pumps, sir." + +"You are wearing pumps? Are you not aware that PUMPS are not the +proper things to come to school in? Why are you wearing _PUMPS_?" + +The form, leaning back against the next row of desks, settled itself +comfortably for the address from the throne. + +"I have lost one of my boots, sir." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When the bell rang at a quarter to eleven, he gathered up his gown, +and sped to the headmaster. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII + +THE KETTLE METHOD + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"It's all rot," said Stone. "What on earth's the good of sweating +about before breakfast? It only makes you tired." + +"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." + +"Personally," said Stone, gnawing his bun, "I don't intend to stick +it." + +"Nor do I." + +"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." + +"Yes." + +At this moment Adair came into the shop. + +"Fielding-practice again to-morrow," he said briskly, "at six." + +"Before breakfast?" said Robinson. + +"Rather. You two must buck up, you know. You were rotten to-day." And +he passed on, leaving the two malcontents speechless. + +Stone was the first to recover. + +"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." + +"Nor do I." + +"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." + +"All right," said Robinson. "Let's." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was wondering what to do in this matter of Stone and Robinson. + +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. + +He resolved to interview the absentees. + +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. + +"Sorry," said Stone. "Hullo, Adair!" + +"Don't mention it. Why weren't you two at fielding-practice this +morning?" + +Robinson, who left the lead to Stone in all matters, said nothing. +Stone spoke. + +"We didn't turn up," he said. + +"I know you didn't. Why not?" + +Stone had rehearsed this scene in his mind, and he spoke with the +coolness which comes from rehearsal. + +"We decided not to." + +"Oh?" + +"Yes. We came to the conclusion that we hadn't any use for early-morning +fielding." + +Adair's manner became ominously calm. + +"You were rather fed-up, I suppose?" + +"That's just the word." + +"Sorry it bored you." + +"It didn't. We didn't give it the chance to." + +Robinson laughed appreciatively. + +"What's the joke, Robinson?" asked Adair. + +"There's no joke," said Robinson, with some haste. "I was only +thinking of something." + +"I'll give you something else to think about soon." + +Stone intervened. + +"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?" + +"You and Jackson seem to have fixed it all up between you." + +"What are you going to do? Kick us out?" + +"No." + +"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." + +"You don't think there is? You may be right. All the same, you're +going to to-morrow morning." + +"What!" + +"Six sharp. Don't be late." + +"Don't be an ass, Adair. We've told you we aren't going to." + +"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." + +"You can turn out if you feel like it. You won't find me there." + +"That'll be a disappointment. Nor Robinson?" + +"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. + +"You've quite made up your minds?" + +"Yes," said Stone. + +"Right," said Adair quietly, and knocked him down. + +He was up again in a moment. Adair had pushed the table back, and was +standing in the middle of the open space. + +"You cad," said Stone. "I wasn't ready." + +"Well, you are now. Shall we go on?" + +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. + +He got up slowly and stood leaning with one hand on the table. + +"Suppose we say ten past six?" said Adair. "I'm not particular to a +minute or two." + +Stone made no reply. + +"Will ten past six suit you for fielding-practice to-morrow?" said +Adair. + +"All right," said Stone. + +"Thanks. How about you, Robinson?" + +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. + +"All right," he said hastily, "I'll turn up." + +"Good," said Adair. "I wonder if either of you chaps could tell me +which is Jackson's study." + +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. + +"Thanks," said Adair. "You don't happen to know if he's in, I +suppose?" + +"He went up with Smith a quarter of an hour ago. I don't know if he's +still there." + +"I'll go and see," said Adair. "I should like a word with him if he +isn't busy." + + + + +CHAPTER LIV + +ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And it was at this point, when his resentment was at its height, that +Adair, the concrete representative of everything Sedleighan, entered +the room. + +There are moments in life's placid course when there has got to be the +biggest kind of row. This was one of them. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Psmith was the first to speak. + +"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 _consommé_ 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?" + +"Thanks," said Adair. "I just wanted to speak to Jackson for a +minute." + +"Fate," said Psmith, "has led your footsteps to the right place. That +is Comrade Jackson, the Pride of the School, sitting before you." + +"What do you want?" said Mike. + +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. + +"I'll tell you in a minute. It won't take long." + +"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----" + +"Buck up," said Mike. + +"Certainly," said Adair. "I've just been talking to Stone and +Robinson." + +"An excellent way of passing an idle half-hour," said Psmith. + +"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." + +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. + +Psmith was regarding Adair through his eyeglass with pain and +surprise. + +"Surely," he said, "you do not mean us to understand that you have +been _brawling_ 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." + +Psmith turned away, and resting his elbows on the mantelpiece, gazed +at himself mournfully in the looking-glass. + +"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." + +"Stone and I had a discussion about early-morning fielding-practice," +said Adair, turning to Mike. + +Mike said nothing. + +"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." + +Mike remained silent. + +"So are you," added Adair. + +"I get thinner and thinner," said Psmith from the mantelpiece. + +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. + +"Oh?" said Mike at last. "What makes you think that?" + +"I don't think. I know." + +"Any special reason for my turning out?" + +"Yes." + +"What's that?" + +"You're going to play for the school against the M.C.C. to-morrow, and +I want you to get some practice." + +"I wonder how you got that idea!" + +"Curious I should have done, isn't it?" + +"Very. You aren't building on it much, are you?" said Mike politely. + +"I am, rather," replied Adair with equal courtesy. + +"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed." + +"I don't think so." + +"My eyes," said Psmith regretfully, "are a bit close together. +However," he added philosophically, "it's too late to alter that now." + +Mike drew a step closer to Adair. + +"What makes you think I shall play against the M.C.C.?" he asked +curiously. + +"I'm going to make you." + +Mike took another step forward. Adair moved to meet him. + +"Would you care to try now?" said Mike. + +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. + +"Get out of the light, Smith," said Mike. + +Psmith waved him back with a deprecating gesture. + +"My dear young friends," he said placidly, "if you _will_ 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." + + + + +CHAPTER LV + +CLEARING THE AIR + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He got up slowly and with difficulty. For a moment he stood blinking +vaguely. Then he lurched forward at Mike. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"_He's_ 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." + +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. + +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." + +It came upon Mike with painful clearness that he had been making an +ass of himself. + +He had come to this conclusion, after much earnest thought, when +Psmith entered the study. + +"How's Adair?" asked Mike. + +"Sitting up and taking nourishment once more. We have been chatting. +He's not a bad cove." + +"He's all right," said Mike. + +There was a pause. Psmith straightened his tie. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"Of course not," said Mike indignantly. + +"I told him he didn't know the old _noblesse oblige_ 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?" + +"I don't--What I mean to say--" began Mike. + +"If your trouble is," said Psmith, "that you fear that you may be in +unworthy company----" + +"Don't be an ass." + +"----Dismiss it. _I_ am playing." + +Mike stared. + +"You're what? You?" + +"I," said Psmith, breathing on a coat-button, and polishing it with +his handkerchief. + +"Can you play cricket?" + +"You have discovered," said Psmith, "my secret sorrow." + +"You're rotting." + +"You wrong me, Comrade Jackson." + +"Then why haven't you played?" + +"Why haven't you?" + +"Why didn't you come and play for Lower Borlock, I mean?" + +"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." + +"No, but look here, Smith, bar rotting. Are you really any good at +cricket?" + +"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." + +"But you told me you didn't like cricket. You said you only liked +watching it." + +"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----" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER LVI + +IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED + + +"Sprained his wrist?" said Mike. "How did he do that?" + +"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." + +"I say, what beastly rough luck! I'd no idea. I'll go round." + +"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." + +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. + +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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Mike, shuffling across to school in a Burberry, met Adair at Downing's +gate. + +These moments are always difficult. Mike stopped--he could hardly walk +on as if nothing had happened--and looked down at his feet. + +"Coming across?" he said awkwardly. + +"Right ho!" said Adair. + +They walked on in silence. + +"It's only about ten to, isn't it?" said Mike. + +Adair fished out his watch, and examined it with an elaborate care +born of nervousness. + +"About nine to." + +"Good. We've got plenty of time." + +"Yes." + +"I hate having to hurry over to school." + +"So do I." + +"I often do cut it rather fine, though." + +"Yes. So do I." + +"Beastly nuisance when one does." + +"Beastly." + +"It's only about a couple of minutes from the houses to the school, I +should think, shouldn't you?" + +"Not much more. Might be three." + +"Yes. Three if one didn't hurry." + +"Oh, yes, if one didn't hurry." + +Another silence. + +"Beastly day," said Adair. + +"Rotten." + +Silence again. + +"I say," said Mike, scowling at his toes, "awfully sorry about your +wrist." + +"Oh, that's all right. It was my fault." + +"Does it hurt?" + +"Oh, no, rather not, thanks." + +"I'd no idea you'd crocked yourself." + +"Oh, no, that's all right. It was only right at the end. You'd have +smashed me anyhow." + +"Oh, rot." + +"I bet you anything you like you would." + +"I bet you I shouldn't.... Jolly hard luck, just before the match." + +"Oh, no.... I say, thanks awfully for saying you'd play." + +"Oh, rot.... Do you think we shall get a game?" + +Adair inspected the sky carefully. + +"I don't know. It looks pretty bad, doesn't it?" + +"Rotten. I say, how long will your wrist keep you out of cricket?" + +"Be all right in a week. Less, probably." + +"Good." + +"Now that you and Smith are going to play, we ought to have a jolly +good season." + +"Rummy, Smith turning out to be a cricketer." + +"Yes. I should think he'd be a hot bowler, with his height." + +"He must be jolly good if he was only just out of the Eton team last +year." + +"Yes." + +"What's the time?" asked Mike. + +Adair produced his watch once more. + +"Five to." + +"We've heaps of time." + +"Yes, heaps." + +"Let's stroll on a bit down the road, shall we?" + +"Right ho!" + +Mike cleared his throat. + +"I say." + +"Hullo?" + +"I've been talking to Smith. He was telling me that you thought I'd +promised to give Stone and Robinson places in the----" + +"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." + +"He never even asked me to get him a place." + +"No, I know." + +"Of course, I wouldn't have done it, even if he had." + +"Of course not." + +"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." + +"No, I know." + +"It was rotten enough, really, not playing myself." + +"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." + +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. + +He eluded the pitfall. + +"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." + +Adair shuffled awkwardly. + +"I've always been fairly keen on the place," he said. "But I don't +suppose I've done anything much." + +"You've loosened one of my front teeth," said Mike, with a grin, "if +that's any comfort to you." + +"I couldn't eat anything except porridge this morning. My jaw still +aches." + +For the first time during the conversation their eyes met, and the +humorous side of the thing struck them simultaneously. They began to +laugh. + +"What fools we must have looked!" said Adair. + +"_You_ 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." + +"It might clear before eleven. You'd better get changed, anyhow, at +the interval, and hang about in case." + +"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." + +"He isn't a bad sort of chap, when you get to know him," said Adair. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mike stopped. + +"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." + +"What! They wouldn't play us." + +"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?" + +Adair was as one who has seen a vision. + +"By Jove," he said at last, "if we only could!" + + + + +CHAPTER LVII + +MR. DOWNING MOVES + + +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 _v_. M.C.C. match was accordingly scratched. + +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. + +"What's he want me for?" inquired Mike. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +He was still fiddling away at it when Mike returned. + +Mike, though Psmith was at first too absorbed to notice it, was +agitated. + +"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.'" + +"The man's an absolute drivelling ass," said Mike warmly. + +"Me, do you mean?" + +"What on earth would be the point of my doing it?" + +"You'd gather in a thousand of the best. Give you a nice start in +life." + +"I'm not talking about your rotten puzzle." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"That ass Downing. I believe he's off his nut." + +"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?" + +"He's off his nut." + +"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?" + +Mike sat down. + +"You remember that painting Sammy business?" + +"As if it were yesterday," said Psmith. "Which it was, pretty nearly." + +"He thinks I did it." + +"Why? Have you ever shown any talent in the painting line?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"_Did_ you, by the way?" asked Psmith. + +"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." + +"Such as what?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"He swears one of the boots was splashed with paint." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Psmith sighed. + +"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?" + +Mike stared, "What the dickens are you talking about?" + +"Go on. Get it over. Be a man, and reach up the chimney." + +"I don't know what the game is," said Mike, kneeling beside the fender +and groping, "but--_Hullo_!" + +"Ah ha!" said Psmith moodily. + +Mike dropped the soot-covered object in the fender, and glared at it. + +[Illustration: MIKE DROPPED THE SOOT-COVERED OBJECT IN THE FENDER.] + +"It's my boot!" he said at last. + +"It _is_," said Psmith, "your boot. And what is that red stain +across the toe? Is it blood? No, 'tis not blood. It is red paint." + +Mike seemed unable to remove his eyes from the boot. + +"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." + +"Then you were out that night?" + +"Rather. That's what makes it so jolly awkward. It's too long to tell +you now----" + +"Your stories are never too long for me," said Psmith. "Say on!" + +"Well, it was like this." And Mike related the events which had led up +to his midnight excursion. Psmith listened attentively. + +"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?" + +"Yes. Of course there was no need for him to have the money at all." + +"And the result is that you are in something of a tight place. You're +_absolutely_ 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!" + +"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." + +Psmith pondered. + +"It _is_ a tightish place," he admitted. + +"I wonder if we could get this boot clean," said Mike, inspecting it +with disfavour. + +"Not for a pretty considerable time." + +"I suppose not. I say, I _am_ in the cart. If I can't produce +this boot, they're bound to guess why." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Sufficient, too," said Psmith, "quite sufficient. I take it, then, +that he is now on the war-path, collecting a gang, so to speak." + +"I suppose he's gone to the Old Man about it." + +"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?" + +"I suppose he'll send for me, and try to get something out of me." + +"_He'll_ 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." + +"Well, I hope you'll be able to think of something. I can't." + +"Possibly. You never know." + +There was a tap at the door. + +"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." + +A small boy, carrying a straw hat adorned with the school-house +ribbon, answered the invitation. + +"Oh, I say, Jackson," he said, "the headmaster sent me over to tell +you he wants to see you." + +"I told you so," said Mike to Psmith. + +"Don't go," suggested Psmith. "Tell him to write." + +Mike got up. + +"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." + +The emissary departed. + +"_You're_ 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." + +With which expert advice, he allowed Mike to go on his way. + +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. + +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. + +"Is Mr. Downing at home?" inquired Psmith. + +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. + +"An excellent likeness, sir," said Psmith, with a gesture of the hand +towards the painting. + +"Well, Smith," said Mr. Downing shortly, "what do you wish to see me +about?" + +"It was in connection with the regrettable painting of your dog, sir." + +"Ha!" said Mr. Downing. + +"I did it, sir," said Psmith, stopping and flicking a piece of fluff +off his knee. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII + +THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK + + +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. + +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. + +"I would not have interrupted you," said Mr. Downing, "but----" + +"Not at all, Mr. Downing. Is there anything I can----?" + +"I have discovered--I have been informed--In short, it was not +Jackson, who committed the--who painted my dog." + +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. + +"Not Jackson?" said the headmaster. + +"No. It was a boy in the same house. Smith." + +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. + +"Smith!" said the headmaster. "What makes you think that?" + +"Simply this," said Mr. Downing, with calm triumph, "that the boy +himself came to me a few moments ago and confessed." + +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. + +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. + +Mike took advantage of a pause to get up. "May I go, sir?" he said. + +"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." + +"Yes, sir." + +He had reached the door, when again there was a knock. + +"Come in," said the headmaster. + +It was Adair. + +"Yes, Adair?" + +Adair was breathing rather heavily, as if he had been running. + +"It was about Sammy--Sampson, sir," he said, looking at Mr. Downing. + +"Ah, we know--. Well, Adair, what did you wish to say." + +"It wasn't Jackson who did it, sir." + +"No, no, Adair. So Mr. Downing----" + +"It was Dunster, sir." + +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. + +"Adair!" + +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. + +"Adair!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"What--_what_ do you mean?" + +"It _was_ 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." + +"Smith told you?" said Mr. Downing. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did you say anything to him about your having received this letter +from Dunster?" + +"I gave him the letter to read, sir." + +"And what was his attitude when he had read it?" + +"He laughed, sir." + +"_Laughed!_" Mr. Downing's voice was thunderous. + +"Yes, sir. He rolled about." + +Mr. Downing snorted. + +"But Adair," said the headmaster, "I do not understand how this thing +could have been done by Dunster. He has left the school." + +"He was down here for the Old Sedleighans' match, sir. He stopped the +night in the village." + +"And that was the night the--it happened?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"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." + +"The sergeant," said Mr. Downing, "told me that the boy he saw was +attempting to enter Mr. Outwood's house." + +"Another freak of Dunster's, I suppose," said the headmaster. "I shall +write to him." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"If you please, sir, Mr. Smith is waiting in the hall." + +"In the hall!" + +"Yes, sir. He arrived soon after Mr. Adair, sir, saying that he would +wait, as you would probably wish to see him shortly." + +"H'm. Ask him to step up, Barlow." + +"Yes, sir." + +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. + +Presently there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs. The door was +opened. + +"Mr. Smith, sir." + +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. + +"It is still raining," he observed. "You wished to see me, sir?" + +"Sit down, Smith." + +"Thank you, sir." + +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. + +Mr. Downing burst out, like a reservoir that has broken its banks. + +"Smith." + +Psmith turned his gaze politely in the housemaster's direction. + +"Smith, you came to me a quarter of an hour ago and told me that it +was you who had painted my dog Sampson." + +"Yes, sir." + +"It was absolutely untrue?" + +"I am afraid so, sir." + +"But, Smith--" began the headmaster. + +Psmith bent forward encouragingly. + +"----This is a most extraordinary affair. Have you no explanation to +offer? What induced you to do such a thing?" + +Psmith sighed softly. + +"The craze for notoriety, sir," he replied sadly. "The curse of the +present age." + +"What!" cried the headmaster. + +"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----" + +The headmaster interrupted. + +"Smith," he said, "I should like to see you alone for a moment. Mr. +Downing might I trouble--? Adair, Jackson." + +He made a motion towards the door. + +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. + +"Er--Smith." + +"Sir?" + +The headmaster seemed to have some difficulty in proceeding. He paused +again. Then he went on. + +"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--_mental_ illness?" + +"No, sir." + +"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?" + +"There isn't a lunatic on the list, sir," said Psmith cheerfully. + +"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?" + +"Strictly between ourselves, sir----" + +Privately, the headmaster found Psmith's man-to-man attitude somewhat +disconcerting, but he said nothing. + +"Well, Smith?" + +"I should not like it to go any further, sir." + +"I will certainly respect any confidence----" + +"I don't want anybody to know, sir. This is strictly between +ourselves." + +"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." + +"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." + +There was a pause. + +"It was a very wrong thing to do, Smith," said the headmaster, at +last, "but.... You are a curious boy, Smith. Good-night." + +He held out his hand. + +"Good-night, sir," said Psmith. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +Mike and Adair were waiting for him outside the front door. + +"Well?" said Mike. + +"You _are_ the limit," said Adair. "What's he done?" + +"Nothing. We had a very pleasant chat, and then I tore myself away." + +"Do you mean to say he's not going to do a thing?" + +"Not a thing." + +"Well, you're a marvel," said Adair. + +Psmith thanked him courteously. They walked on towards the houses. + +"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." + +"What's that?" asked Psmith. + +"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." + +"Oh, I should think they're certain to," said Mike. "Good-night." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"I say, Psmith," said Mike suddenly, "what really made you tell +Downing you'd done it?" + +"The craving for----" + +"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." + +Psmith's expression was one of pain. + +"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." + +"Well, I believe you did, all the same," said Mike obstinately. "And +it was jolly good of you, too." + +Psmith moaned. + + + + +CHAPTER LIX + +SEDLEIGH _v_. WRYKYN + + +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. + +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 _them_. 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. + +Sedleigh had gone on to the field that morning a depressed side. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As Mike reached the pavilion, Adair declared the innings closed. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A quarter past six struck, and then Psmith made a suggestion which +altered the game completely. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Two minutes later Drummond's successor was retiring to the pavilion, +while the wicket-keeper straightened the stumps again. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Psmith and Mike sat in their study after lock-up, discussing things in +general and the game in particular. + +"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." + +"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." + +"He bowled awfully well." + +"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?" + +"Well?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +They staggered. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mike, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE *** + +***** This file should be named 7423-8.txt or 7423-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/4/2/7423/ + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Jim Tinsley, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. +With thanks to Amherst College Library. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +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. + diff --git a/old/7423-8.zip b/old/7423-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3df2eb9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7423-8.zip diff --git a/old/7423-h.zip b/old/7423-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6118e79 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7423-h.zip diff --git a/old/7423.txt b/old/7423.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8375d82 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7423.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15561 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mike, by P. G. Wodehouse + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mike + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +Release Date: June 15, 2004 [EBook #7423] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Jim Tinsley, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. +With thanks to Amherst College Library. + + + + + + +MIKE + +A PUBLIC SCHOOL STORY + + + +BY +P. G. WODEHOUSE + + + +CONTAINING TWELVE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS +BY T. M. R. WHITWELL + + + +LONDON +1909. + + + +[Illustration (Frontispiece): "ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON THEN WHO HAD AN +AVERAGE OF FIFTY ONE POINT NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?"] + + + + +[Dedication] +TO +ALAN DURAND + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER +I. MIKE + +II. THE JOURNEY DOWN + +III. MIKE FINDS A FRIENDLY NATIVE + +IV. AT THE NETS + +V. REVELRY BY NIGHT + +VI. IN WHICH A TIGHT CORNER IS EVADED + +VII. IN WHICH MIKE IS DISCUSSED + +VIII. A ROW WITH THE TOWN + +IX. BEFORE THE STORM + +X. THE GREAT PICNIC + +XI. THE CONCLUSION OF THE PICNIC + +XII. MIKE GETS HIS CHANCE + +XIII. THE M.C.C. MATCH + +XIV. A SLIGHT IMBROGLIO + +XV. MIKE CREATES A VACANCY + +XVI. AN EXPERT EXAMINATION + +XVII. ANOTHER VACANCY + +XVIII. BOB HAS NEWS TO IMPART + +XIX. MIKE GOES TO SLEEP AGAIN + +XX. THE TEAM IS FILLED UP + +XXI. MARJORY THE FRANK + +XXII. WYATT IS REMINDED OF AN ENGAGEMENT + +XXIII. A SURPRISE FOR MR. APPLEBY + +XXIV. CAUGHT + +XXV. MARCHING ORDERS + +XXVI. THE AFTERMATH + +XXVII. THE RIPTON MATCH + +XXVIII. MIKE WINS HOME + +XXIX. WYATT AGAIN + +XXX. MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND + +XXXI. SEDLEIGH + +XXXII. PSMITH + +XXXIII. STAKING OUT A CLAIM + +XXXIV. GUERILLA WARFARE + +XXXV. UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS + +XXXVI. ADAIR + +XXXVII. MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION + +XXXVIII. THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING + +XXXIX. ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT + +XL. THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S + +XLI. THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF JELLICOE + +XLII. JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK-LIST + +XLIII. MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION + +XLIV. AND FULFILS IT + +XLV. PURSUIT + +XLVI. THE DECORATION OF SAMMY + +XLVII. MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT + +XLVIII. THE SLEUTH-HOUND + +XLIX. A CHECK + +L. THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE + +LI. MAINLY ABOUT BOOTS + +LII. ON THE TRAIL AGAIN + +LIII. THE KETTLE METHOD + +LIV. ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE + +LV. CLEARING THE AIR + +LVI. IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED + +LVII. MR. DOWNING MOVES + +LVIII. THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK + +LIX. SEDLEIGH _v._ WRYKYN + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +BY T. M. R. WHITWELL + + +"ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON, THEN, WHO HAD AN AVERAGE OF FIFTY-ONE POINT +NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?" + +THE DARK WATERS WERE LASHED INTO A MAELSTROM + +"DON'T _LAUGH_, YOU GRINNING APE" + +"DO--YOU--SEE, YOU FRIGHTFUL KID?" + +"WHAT'S ALL THIS ABOUT JIMMY WYATT?" + +MIKE AND THE BALL ARRIVED ALMOST SIMULTANEOUSLY + +"WHAT THE DICKENS ARE YOU DOING HERE?" + +PSMITH SEIZED AND EMPTIED JELLICOE'S JUG OVER SPILLER + +"WHY DID YOU SAY YOU DIDN'T PLAY CRICKET?" HE ASKED + +"WHO--" HE SHOUTED, "WHO HAS DONE THIS?" + +"DID--YOU--PUT--THAT--BOOT--THERE, SMITH?" + +MIKE DROPPED THE SOOT-COVERED OBJECT IN THE FENDER + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MIKE + + +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 +_Sportsman_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +"Mike's late again," said Mrs. Jackson plaintively, at last. + +"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." + +"Marjory!" + +"Well, he was on his back with his mouth wide open. I had to. He was +snoring like anything." + +"You might have choked him." + +"I did," said Marjory with satisfaction. "Jam, please, Phyllis, you +pig." + +Mr. Jackson looked up. + +"Mike will have to be more punctual when he goes to Wrykyn," he said. + +"Oh, father, is Mike going to Wrykyn?" asked Marjory. "When?" + +"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." + +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. + +"I say!" he said. "What?" + +"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." + +"He's got cheek enough for ten," agreed Bob. + +"Wrykyn will do him a world of good." + +"We aren't in the same house. That's one comfort." + +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. + +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. + +"Hooray! Mike's going to Wrykyn. I bet he gets into the first eleven +his first term." + +"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." + +The aspersion stung Marjory. + +"I bet he gets in before you, anyway," she said. + +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. + +Mrs. Jackson intervened. + +"Go on with your breakfast, Marjory," she said. "You mustn't say 'I +bet' so much." + +Marjory bit off a section of her slice of bread-and-jam. + +"Anyhow, I bet he does," she muttered truculently through it. + +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." + +This was mere stereo. He had made the same remark nearly every morning +since the beginning of the holidays. + +"All right, Marjory, you little beast," was his reference to the +sponge incident. + +His third remark was of a practical nature. + +"I say, what's under that dish?" + +"Mike," began Mr. Jackson--this again was stereo--"you really must +learn to be more punctual----" + +He was interrupted by a chorus. + +"Mike, you're going to Wrykyn next term," shouted Marjory. + +"Mike, father's just had a letter to say you're going to Wrykyn next +term." From Phyllis. + +"Mike, you're going to Wrykyn." From Ella. + +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." + +"Oh, put a green baize cloth over that kid, somebody," groaned Bob. + +Whereat Gladys Maud, having fixed him with a chilly stare for some +seconds, suddenly drew a long breath, and squealed deafeningly for +more milk. + +Mike looked round the table. It was a great moment. He rose to it with +the utmost dignity. + +"Good," he said. "I say, what's under that dish?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +Mike put on his pads; and Marjory walked with the professional to the +bowling crease. + +"Mike's going to Wrykyn next term, Saunders," she said. "All the boys +were there, you know. So was father, ages ago." + +"Is he, miss? I was thinking he would be soon." + +"Do you think he'll get into the school team?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Saunders looked a little doubtful. + +"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." + +"But Mike's jolly strong." + +"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." + +"No, I don't, Saunders. What are they like?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Marjory sat down again beside the net, and watched more hopefully. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE JOURNEY DOWN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Where's that porter?" Mike heard him say. + +The porter came skimming down the platform at that moment. + +"Porter." + +"Sir?" + +"Are those frightful boxes of mine in all right?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Because, you know, there'll be a frightful row if any of them get +lost." + +"No chance of that, sir." + +"Here you are, then." + +"Thank you, sir." + +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. + +The other made no overtures, and at the next stop got out. That +explained his magazineless condition. He was only travelling a short +way. + +"Good business," said Mike to himself. He had all the Englishman's +love of a carriage to himself. + +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. + +And here, I regret to say, Mike acted from the best motives, which is +always fatal. + +He realised in an instant what had happened. The fellow had forgotten +his bag. + +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 +trainwas already moving quite fast, and Mike's compartment was nearing +the end of the platform. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Hullo, I say," said the stranger. "Have you changed carriages, or +what?" + +"No," said Mike. + +"Then, dash it, where's my frightful bag?" + +Life teems with embarrassing situations. This was one of them. + +"The fact is," said Mike, "I chucked it out." + +"Chucked it out! what do you mean? When?" + +"At the last station." + +The guard blew his whistle, and the other jumped into the carriage. + +"I thought you'd got out there for good," explained Mike. "I'm awfully +sorry." + +"Where _is_ the bag?" + +"On the platform at the last station. It hit a porter." + +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. + +The bereaved owner disapproved of this levity; and said as much. + +"Don't _grin_, 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." + +"It wasn't that," said Mike hurriedly. "Only the porter looked awfully +funny when it hit him." + +"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." + +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. + +"Hullo, there you are," said Bob. + +His eye fell upon Mike's companion. + +"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." + +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. + +"Oh, are you in Wain's?" he said. + +"I say, Bob," said Mike, "I've made rather an ass of myself." + +"Naturally." + +"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." + +"You're a bit of a rotter, aren't you? Had it got your name and +address on it, Gazeka?" + +"Yes." + +"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." + +"Frightful nuisance, all the same. Lots of things in it I wanted." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Frightful," agreed Firby-Smith. + +"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." + +Mike looked out of the window. It was Wrykyn at last. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MIKE FINDS A FRIENDLY NATIVE + + +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. + +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," + +"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." + +"What shall _we_ do?" said Bob. "Come and have some tea at +Cook's?" + +"All right." + +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? + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Can you tell me the way to the school, please," he said. + +"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. + +"You look rather lost," said the stranger. "Been hunting for it long?" + +"Yes," said Mike. + +"Which house do you want?" + +"Wain's." + +"Wain's? Then you've come to the right man this time. What I don't +know about Wain's isn't worth knowing." + +"Are you there, too?" + +"Am I not! Term _and_ holidays. There's no close season for me." + +"Oh, are you Wyatt, then?" asked Mike. + +"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?" + +"I heard my brother saying something about you in the train." + +"Who's your brother?" + +"Jackson. He's in Donaldson's." + +"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?" + +"Not brothers," said Mike. + +"Pity. You can't quite raise a team, then? Are you a sort of young +Tyldesley, too?" + +"I played a bit at my last school. Only a private school, you know," +added Mike modestly. + +"Make any runs? What was your best score?" + +"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. + +"That's pretty useful. Any more centuries?" + +"Yes," said Mike, shuffling. + +"How many?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh, thanks awfully," said Mike. "My brother and Firby-Smith have gone +to a place called Cook's." + +"The old Gazeka? I didn't know he lived in your part of the world. +He's head of Wain's." + +"Yes, I know," said Mike. "Why is he called Gazeka?" he asked after a +pause. + +"Don't you think he looks like one? What did you think of him?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"I say, it's jolly big," he said. "How many fellows are there in it?" + +"Thirty-one this term, I believe." + +"That's more than there were at King-Hall's." + +"What's King-Hall's?" + +"The private school I was at. At Emsworth." + +Emsworth seemed very remote and unreal to him as he spoke. + +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. + +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. + +Wyatt took Mike into the matron's room, a small room opening out of +the main passage. + +"This is Jackson," he said. "Which dormitory is he in, Miss Payne?" + +The matron consulted a paper. + +"He's in yours, Wyatt." + +"Good business. Who's in the other bed? There are going to be three of +us, aren't there?" + +"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." + +"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." + +They went along the passage, and up a flight of stairs. + +"Here you are," said Wyatt. + +It was a fair-sized room. The window, heavily barred, looked out over +a large garden. + +"I used to sleep here alone last term," said Wyatt, "but the house is +so full now they've turned it into a dormitory." + +"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. + +Wyatt looked at him curiously, and moved to the window. + +"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----" + +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. + +"By Jove!" said Mike. + +"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?" + +"All right," said Mike, reluctantly. "But I wish you'd let me." + +"Not if I know it. Promise you won't try it on." + +"All right. But, I say, what do you do out there?" + +"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." + +"I wish you'd let me come." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AT THE NETS + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo, where are you off to?" asked Wyatt. "Coming to watch the +nets?" + +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. + +"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." + +This suited Mike admirably. A quarter of an hour later he was sitting +at the back of the first eleven net, watching the practice. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Thanks," said Bob austerely, as Mike returned the ball to him. He +seemed depressed. + +Towards the end of the afternoon, Wyatt went up to Burgess. + +"Burgess," he said, "see that kid sitting behind the net?" + +"With the naked eye," said Burgess. "Why?" + +"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." + +Burgess's amiability off the field equalled his ruthlessness when +bowling. + +"All right," he said. "Only if you think that I'm going to sweat to +bowl to him, you're making a fatal error." + +"You needn't do a thing. Just sit and watch. I rather fancy this kid's +something special." + + * * * * * + +Mike put on Wyatt's pads and gloves, borrowed his bat, and walked +round into the net. + +"Not in a funk, are you?" asked Wyatt, as he passed. + +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. + +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. + +"How's that?" said Wyatt, with the smile of an impresario on the first +night of a successful piece. + +"Not bad," admitted Burgess. + +A few moments later he was still more complimentary. He got up and +took a ball himself. + +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. + +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. + +"Well played," said Burgess. + +Mike felt like a successful general receiving the thanks of the +nation. + +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. + +"Thanks awfully," said Mike, referring to the square manner in which +the captain had behaved in letting him bat. + +"What school were you at before you came here?" asked Burgess. + +"A private school in Hampshire," said Mike. "King-Hall's. At a place +called Emsworth." + +"Get much cricket there?" + +"Yes, a good lot. One of the masters, a chap called Westbrook, was an +awfully good slow bowler." + +Burgess nodded. + +"You don't run away, which is something," he said. + +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. + +"Well played," he said. "I'd no idea you were such hot stuff. You're a +regular pro." + +"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." + +"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." + +"By Jove, that would be all right." + +"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." + +"I hope so," said Mike. + +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. + +"This place is ripping," he said to himself, as he saw his name on the +list. "Thought I should like it." + +And that night he wrote a letter to his father, notifying him of the +fact. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +REVELRY BY NIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The arrival of tea was the cue for conversation. + +"Well, how are you getting on?" asked Bob. + +"Oh, all right," said Mike. + +Silence. + +"Sugar?" asked Bob. + +"Thanks," said Mike. + +"How many lumps?" + +"Two, please." + +"Cake?" + +"Thanks." + +Silence. + +Bob pulled himself together. + +"Like Wain's?" + +"Ripping." + +"I asked Firby-Smith to keep an eye on you," said Bob. + +"What!" said Mike. + +The mere idea of a worm like the Gazeka being told to keep an eye on +_him_ was degrading. + +"He said he'd look after you," added Bob, making things worse. + +Look after him! Him!! M. Jackson, of the third eleven!!! + +Mike helped himself to another chunk of cake, and spoke crushingly. + +"He needn't trouble," he said. "I can look after myself all right, +thanks." + +Bob saw an opening for the entry of the Heavy Elder Brother. + +"Look here, Mike," he said, "I'm only saying it for your good----" + +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. + +"Yes?" said Mike coldly. + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" said Mike, outraged. + +"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." + +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. + +"Seen you about with Wyatt a good deal," he said at length. + +"Yes," said Mike. + +"Like him?" + +"Yes," said Mike cautiously. + +"You know," said Bob, "I shouldn't--I mean, I should take care what +you're doing with Wyatt." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well, he's an awfully good chap, of course, but still----" + +"Still what?" + +"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?" + +Bob was well-intentioned, but tact did not enter greatly into his +composition. + +"What rot!" said Mike. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +That youth, all spectacles and front teeth, met Mike at the door of +Wain's. + +"Ah, I wanted to see you, young man," he said. (Mike disliked being +called "young man.") "Come up to my study." + +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. + +"I've been hearing all about you, young man." Mike shuffled. + +"You're a frightful character from all accounts." Mike could not think +of anything to say that was not rude, so said nothing. + +"Your brother has asked me to keep an eye on you." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Hullo," he said. "Is that you, Wyatt?" + +"Are you awake?" said Wyatt. "Sorry if I've spoiled your beauty +sleep." + +"Are you going out?" + +"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." + +"I say, can't I come too?" + +A moonlight prowl, with or without an air-pistol, would just have +suited Mike's mood. + +"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." + +"Do you think you will be caught?" + +"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." + +And Wyatt, laying the bar he had extracted on the window-sill, +wriggled out. Mike saw him disappearing along the wall. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He crept quietly out of the dormitory. + +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. + +To make himself more secure he locked that door; then, turning up the +incandescent light, he proceeded to look about him. + +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. + +He took some more biscuits, and an apple. + +After which, feeling a new man, he examined the room. + +And this was where the trouble began. + +On a table in one corner stood a small gramophone. And gramophones +happened to be Mike's particular craze. + +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 _he_ inserted the first record that +came to hand, wound the machine up, and set it going. + +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. + +_"Auntie went to Aldershot in a Paris pom-pom hat."_ + +Mike stood and drained it in. + +_"... Good gracious_ (sang Mr. Field), _what was that?"_ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +The answer was simple. + +"He'd clear out," thought Mike. + +Two minutes later he was in bed. + +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! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN WHICH A TIGHT CORNER IS EVADED + + +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. + +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. + +He knocked at the door, and went in. + +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. + +"Please, sir, I thought I heard a noise," said Mike. + +Mr. Wain continued to stare. + +"What are you doing here?" said he at last. + +"Thought I heard a noise, please, sir." + +"A noise?" + +"Please, sir, a row." + +"You thought you heard----!" + +The thing seemed to be worrying Mr. Wain. + +"So I came down, sir," said Mike. + +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. + +"Did you turn on the gramophone?" he asked. + +"_Me_, sir!" said Mike, with the air of a bishop accused of +contributing to the _Police News_. + +"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?" + +"Thought I heard a noise, please, sir." + +"A noise?" + +"A row, sir." + +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. + +"I think there must have been a burglar in here, Jackson." + +"Looks like it, sir." + +"I found the window open." + +"He's probably in the garden, sir." + +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. + +"He might be still in the house," said Mr. Wain, ruminatively. + +"Not likely, sir." + +"You think not?" + +"Wouldn't be such a fool, sir. I mean, such an ass, sir." + +"Perhaps you are right, Jackson." + +"I shouldn't wonder if he was hiding in the shrubbery, sir." + +Mr. Wain looked at the shrubbery, as who should say, _"Et tu, +Brute!"_ + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +On the second of these occasions a low voice spoke from somewhere on +his right. + +"Who on earth's that?" it said. + +Mike stopped. + +"Is that you, Wyatt? I say----" + +"Jackson!" + +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. + +"You young ass," said Wyatt. "You promised me that you wouldn't get +out." + +"Yes, I know, but----" + +"I heard you crashing through the shrubbery like a hundred elephants. +If you _must_ get out at night and chance being sacked, you might +at least have the sense to walk quietly." + +"Yes, but you don't understand." + +And Mike rapidly explained the situation. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You--_what?_" + +"The gramophone. It started playing 'The Quaint Old Bird.' Ripping it +was, till Wain came along." + +Wyatt doubled up with noiseless laughter. + +"You're a genius," he said. "I never saw such a man. Well, what's the +game now? What's the idea?" + +"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." + +"That's not a bad idea. All right. You dash along then. I'll get +back." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Please, sir, so excited," said Mike, standing outside with his hands +on the sill. + +"You have no business to be excited. I will not have it. It is +exceedingly impertinent of you." + +"Please, sir, may I come in?" + +"Come in! Of course, come in. Have you no sense, boy? You are laying +the seeds of a bad cold. Come in at once." + +Mike clambered through the window. + +"I couldn't find him, sir. He must have got out of the garden." + +"Undoubtedly," said Mr. Wain. "Undoubtedly so. It was very wrong of +you to search for him. You have been seriously injured. Exceedingly +so" + +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. + +"I thought I heard a noise, sir," he said. + +He called Mr. Wain "father" in private, "sir" in public. The presence +of Mike made this a public occasion. + +"Has there been a burglary?" + +"Yes," said Mike, "only he has got away." + +"Shall I go out into the garden, and have a look round, sir?" asked +Wyatt helpfully. + +The question stung Mr. Wain into active eruption once more. + +"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." + +"But the burglar, sir?" said Wyatt. + +"We might catch him, sir," said Mike. + +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. + +"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." + +They made it so. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN WHICH MIKE IS DISCUSSED + + +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. + +"One for the pot," said Clowes. + +"All right," breathed Trevor. "Come and help, you slacker." + +"Too busy." + +"You aren't doing a stroke." + +"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." + +"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." + +"My mind at the moment," said Clowes, "was tensely occupied with the +problem of brothers at school. Have you got any brothers, Trevor?" + +"One. Couple of years younger than me. I say, we shall want some more +jam to-morrow. Better order it to-day." + +"See it done, Tigellinus, as our old pal Nero used to remark. Where is +he? Your brother, I mean." + +"Marlborough." + +"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." + +"Why not? Shouldn't have minded." + +"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.'" + +"You were right there," said Trevor. + +"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----" + +"Such as who?" + +"----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----" + +"Oh, come on," said Trevor. + +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. + +"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." + +"Jackson's all right. What's wrong with him? Besides, naturally, young +Jackson came to Wrykyn when all his brothers had been here." + +"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." + +"Well?" + +"Look here, what's at the bottom of this sending young brothers to the +same school as elder brothers?" + +"Elder brother can keep an eye on him, I suppose." + +"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." + +"Why?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"What's up? Does he rag?" + +"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." + +"He never seems to be in extra. One always sees him about on +half-holidays." + +"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?" + +"He's generally with Wyatt when I meet him." + +"Yes. Well, then!" + +"What's wrong with Wyatt? He's one of the decentest men in the +school." + +"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." + +Trevor looked disturbed. + +"Somebody ought to speak to Bob." + +"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." + +"I don't know. It would be a beastly thing for Bob if the kid did get +into a really bad row." + +"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." + +"The Gazeka is a fool." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +He found him in his study, oiling a bat. + +"I say, Bob," he said, "look here. Are you busy?" + +"No. Why?" + +"It's this way. Clowes and I were talking----" + +"If Clowes was there he was probably talking. Well?" + +"About your brother." + +"Oh, by Jove," said Bob, sitting up. "That reminds me. I forgot to get +the evening paper. Did he get his century all right?" + +"Who?" asked Trevor, bewildered. + +"My brother, J. W. He'd made sixty-three not out against Kent in this +morning's paper. What happened?" + +"I didn't get a paper either. I didn't mean that brother. I meant the +one here." + +"Oh, Mike? What's Mike been up to?" + +"Nothing as yet, that I know of; but, I say, you know, he seems a +great pal of Wyatt's." + +"I know. I spoke to him about it." + +"Oh, you did? That's all right, then." + +"Not that there's anything wrong with Wyatt." + +"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." + +"Don't blame him." + +"Nor do I. Rather rot, though, if he lugged your brother into a row by +accident." + +"I should get blamed. I think I'll speak to him again." + +"I should, I think." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I've done that. Smith said he'd speak to him." + +"That's all right then. Is that a new bat?" + +"Got it to-day. Smashed my other yesterday--against the school house." + +Donaldson's had played a friendly with the school house during the +last two days, and had beaten them. + +"I thought I heard it go. You were rather in form." + +"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. + +"I should think you're bound to get your first all right." + +"Hope so. I see Mike's playing for the second against the O.W.s." + +"Yes. Pretty good for his first term. You have a pro. to coach you in +the holidays, don't you?" + +"Yes. I didn't go to him much this last time. I was away a lot. But +Mike fairly lived inside the net." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Sort of infant prodigy," said Trevor. "Don't think he's quite up to +it yet, though." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A ROW WITH THE TOWN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This was the 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. + + "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. + + "Your loving son, + + "MIKE. + + "P.S.--I say, I suppose you couldn't send me five bob, could you? I'm + rather broke. + + "P.P.S.--Half-a-crown would do, only I'd rather it was five bob." + +And, on the back of the envelope, these words: "Or a bob would be +better than nothing." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But there were others. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Possibly, if the town brigade had stuck to a purely verbal form of +attack, all might yet have been peace. Words can be overlooked. + +But tomatoes cannot. + +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. + +In the present crisis, the first tomato was enough to set matters +moving. + +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. + +There was a moment of suspense. Wyatt took out his handkerchief and +wiped his face, over which the succulent vegetable had spread itself. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The leaders were beyond recall, but two remained, tackled low by Wyatt +and Clowes after the fashion of the football-field. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Let's chuck 'em in there," he said. + +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. + +"Now then," it said, "what's all this?" + +A stout figure in policeman's uniform was standing surveying them with +the aid of a small bull's-eye lantern. + +"What's all this?" + +"It's all right," said Wyatt. + +"All right, is it? What's on?" + +One of the prisoners spoke. + +"Make 'em leave hold of us, Mr. Butt. They're a-going to chuck us in +the pond." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I don't want none of your lip, whoever you are," said Mr. Butt, +understanding but dimly, and suspecting impudence by instinct. + +"This is quite a private matter," said Wyatt. "You run along on your +beat. You can't do anything here." + +"Ho!" + +"Shove 'em in, you chaps." + +"Stop!" From Mr. Butt. + +"Oo-er!" From prisoner number one. + +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. + +Wyatt turned to the other prisoner. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The dark waters were lashed into a maelstrom; and then two streaming +figures squelched up the further bank. + +[Illustration: THE DARK WATERS WERE LASHED INTO A MAELSTROM] + +The school stood in silent consternation. It was no occasion for light +apologies. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BEFORE THE STORM + + +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.) + +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. + +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. + +Following the chain of events, we find Mr. Butt, having prudently +changed his clothes, calling upon the headmaster. + +The headmaster was grave and sympathetic; Mr. Butt fierce and +revengeful. + +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. + +"Threw me in, they did, sir. Yes, sir." + +"Threw you in!" + +"Yes, sir. _Plop_!" said Mr. Butt, with a certain sad relish. + +"Really, really!" said the headmaster. "Indeed! This is--dear me! I +shall certainly--They threw you in!--Yes, I shall--certainly----" + +Encouraged by this appreciative reception of his story, Mr. Butt +started it again, right from the beginning. + +"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 _was_ a frakkus!" + +"And these boys actually threw you into the pond?" + +"_Plop_, 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 +_'ave_ you been a-doing? You're all wet.' And," he added, again +with the confidential air, "I _was_ wet, too. Wringin' wet." + +The headmaster's frown deepened. + +"And you are certain that your assailants were boys from the school?" + +"Sure as I am that I'm sitting here, sir. They all 'ad their caps on +their heads, sir." + +"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----" + +"_Splish_, sir!" said the policeman, with a vividness of imagery +both surprising and gratifying. + +The headmaster tapped restlessly on the floor with his foot. + +"How many boys were there?" he asked. + +"Couple of 'undred, sir," said Mr. Butt promptly. + +"Two hundred!" + +"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." + +"H'm--Well, I will look into the matter at once. They shall be +punished." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Ye-e-s--H'm--Yes--Most severely." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Yes--Thank you, constable. Good-night." + +"Good-night, sir." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The step which the headmaster decided to take by way of avenging Mr. +Butt's wrongs was to stop this holiday. + +He gave out a notice to that effect on the Monday. + +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.... + +And here they were, right in it after all. The blow had fallen, and +crushed guilty and innocent alike. + + * * * * * + +The school's attitude can be summed up in three words. It was one +vast, blank, astounded "Here, I say!" + +Everybody was saying it, though not always in those words. When +condensed, everybody's comment on the situation came to that. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Wyatt. + +"Well," said Neville-Smith a little awkwardly, guiltily conscious that +he had been frothing, and scenting sarcasm, "I don't suppose one can +actually _do_ anything." + +"Why not?" said Wyatt. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why don't you take the holiday?" + +"What? Not turn up on Friday!" + +"Yes. I'm not going to." + +Neville-Smith stopped and stared. Wyatt was unmoved. + +"You're what?" + +"I simply sha'n't go to school." + +"You're rotting." + +"All right." + +"No, but, I say, ragging barred. Are you just going to cut off, though +the holiday's been stopped?" + +"That's the idea." + +"You'll get sacked." + +"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." + +"By Jove, nor could they! I say!" + +They walked on, Neville-Smith's mind in a whirl, Wyatt whistling. + +"I say," said Neville-Smith after a pause. "It would be a bit of a +rag." + +"Not bad." + +"Do you think the chaps would do it?" + +"If they understood they wouldn't be alone." + +Another pause. + +"Shall I ask some of them?" said Neville-Smith. + +"Do." + +"I could get quite a lot, I believe." + +"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." + +"I say, what a score, wouldn't it be?" + +"Yes." + +"I'll speak to the chaps to-night, and let you know." + +"All right," said Wyatt. "Tell them that I shall be going anyhow. I +should be glad of a little company." + + * * * * * + +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. + +An air of expectancy permeated each of the houses. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE GREAT PICNIC + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And yet--where was everybody? + +Time only deepened the mystery. The form-rooms, like the gravel, were +empty. + +The cyclists looked at one another in astonishment. What could it +mean? + +It was an occasion on which sane people wonder if their brains are not +playing them some unaccountable trick. + +"I say," said Willoughby, of the Lower Fifth, to Brown, the only other +occupant of the form-room, "the old man _did_ stop the holiday +to-day, didn't he?" + +"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." + +"So do I. I can't make it out. Where _is_ everybody?" + +"They can't _all_ be late." + +"Somebody would have turned up by now. Why, it's just striking." + +"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." + +"So should I." + +"Hullo, here _is_ somebody." + +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. + +"Willoughby. Brown. Are you the only two here? Where is everybody?" + +"Please, sir, we don't know. We were just wondering." + +"Have you seen nobody?" + +"No, sir." + +"We were just wondering, sir, if the holiday had been put on again, +after all." + +"I've heard nothing about it. I should have received some sort of +intimation if it had been." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you mean to say that you have seen _nobody_, Brown?" + +"Only about a dozen fellows, sir. The usual lot who come on bikes, +sir." + +"None of the boarders?" + +"No, sir. Not a single one." + +"This is extraordinary." + +Mr. Spence pondered. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +A brisk conversation was going on. Several voices hailed Mr. Spence as +he entered. + +"Hullo, Spence. Are you alone in the world too?" + +"Any of your boys turned up, Spence?" + +"You in the same condition as we are, Spence?" + +Mr. Spence seated himself on the table. + +"Haven't any of your fellows turned up, either?" he said. + +"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 be 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"It is most mysterious," agreed Mr. Wain, plucking at his beard. +"Exceedingly so." + +The younger masters, notably Mr. Spence and Mr. Seymour, had begun to +look on the thing as a huge jest. + +"We had better teach ourselves," said Mr. Seymour. "Spence, do a +hundred lines for laughing in form." + +The door burst open. + +"Hullo, here's another scholastic Little Bo-Peep," said Mr. Seymour. +"Well, Appleby, have you lost your sheep, too?" + +"You don't mean to tell me----" began Mr. Appleby. + +"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.?" + +"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." + +"What does it all mean?" exclaimed Mr. Appleby. + +"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." + +"They surely cannot----!" + +"Well, where are they then?" + +"Do you seriously mean that the entire school has--has +_rebelled_?" + +"'Nay, sire,'" quoted Mr. Spence, "'a revolution!'" + +"I never heard of such a thing!" + +"We're making history," said Mr. Seymour. + +"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." + +"It is deplorable," said Mr. Wain, with austerity. "Exceedingly so." + +"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----!" + +Mr. Seymour got up. + +"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 _are_?" + +"Look at Shields," said Mr. Spence. "He might be posing for a statue +to be called 'Despair!' He reminds me of Macduff. _Macbeth_, Act +iv., somewhere near the end. 'What, all my pretty chickens, at one +fell swoop?' That's what Shields is saying to himself." + +"It's all very well to make a joke of it, Spence," said Mr. Shields +querulously, "but it is most disturbing. Most." + +"Exceedingly," agreed Mr. Wain. + +The bereaved company of masters walked on up the stairs that led to +the Great Hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CONCLUSION OF THE PICNIC + + +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. + +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. + +This morning there was a mere handful, and the place looked worse than +empty. + +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. + +In the Masters' library Mr. Wain and Mr. Shields, the spokesmen of the +Common Room, were breaking the news to the headmaster. + +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. + +"You say that the whole school is absent?" he remarked quietly. + +Mr. Shields, in a long-winded flow of words, replied that that was +what he did say. + +"Ah!" said the headmaster. + +There was a silence. + +"'M!" said the headmaster. + +There was another silence. + +"Ye--e--s!" said the headmaster. + +He then led the way into the Hall. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The headmaster bent down from the dais and called to Firby-Smith, who +was standing in his place with the Sixth. + +The Gazeka, blushing warmly, stepped forward. + +"Bring me a school list, Firby-Smith," said the headmaster. + +The Gazeka was wearing a pair of very squeaky boots that morning. They +sounded deafening as he walked out of the room. + +The school waited. + +Presently a distant squeaking was heard, and Firby-Smith returned, +bearing a large sheet of paper. + +The headmaster thanked him, and spread it out on the reading-desk. + +Then, calmly, as if it were an occurrence of every day, he began to +call the roll. + +"Abney." + +No answer. + +"Adams." + +No answer. + +"Allenby." + +"Here, sir," from a table at the end of the room. Allenby was a +prefect, in the Science Sixth. + +The headmaster made a mark against his name with a pencil. + +"Arkwright." + +No answer. + +He began to call the names more rapidly. + +"Arlington. Arthur. Ashe. Aston." + +"Here, sir," in a shrill treble from the rider in motorcars. + +The headmaster made another tick. + +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. + +"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." + +("Good work," murmured Mr. Seymour to himself. "Looks as if we +should get that holiday after all.") + +"The Sixth Form will go to their form-room as usual. I should like +to speak to the masters for a moment." + +He nodded dismissal to the school. + +The masters collected on the dais. + +"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." + +"That," said Mr. Seymour to Mr. Spence, as they went downstairs, "is +what I call a genuine sportsman." + +"My opinion neatly expressed," said Mr. Spence. "Come on the river. Or +shall we put up a net, and have a knock?" + +"River, I think. Meet you at the boat-house." + +"All right. Don't be long." + +"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." + +"Pity one can't. It seems to me the ideal state of things. Ensures the +greatest happiness of the greatest number." + +"I say! Suppose the school has gone up the river, too, and we meet +them! What shall we do?" + +"Thank them," said Mr. Spence, "most kindly. They've done us well." + +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 _Worfield Intelligencer and Farmers' Guide_, 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 _Daily Mail_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +Wyatt, as generalissimo of the expedition, walked into the +"Grasshopper and Ant," the leading inn of the town. + +"Anything I can do for you, sir?" inquired the landlord politely. + +"Yes, please," said Wyatt, "I want lunch for five hundred and fifty." + +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!" + +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. + +In the early afternoon they rested, and as evening began to fall, the +march home was started. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Bob Jackson, walking back to Donaldson's, met Wyatt at the gate, and +gazed at him, speechless. + +"Hullo," said Wyatt, "been to the nets? I wonder if there's time for a +ginger-beer before the shop shuts." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +MIKE GETS HIS CHANCE + + +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. + +This was the announcement. + +"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." + +He then gave the nod of dismissal. + +The school streamed downstairs, marvelling. + +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. + +Neville-Smith was among these premature rejoicers. + +"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." + +Wyatt was damping. + +"My dear chap," he said, "it's not over yet by a long chalk. It hasn't +started yet." + +"What do you mean? Why didn't he say anything about it in Hall, then?" + +"Why should he? Have you ever had tick at a shop?" + +"Of course I have. What do you mean? Why?" + +"Well, they didn't send in the bill right away. But it came all +right." + +"Do you think he's going to do something, then?" + +"Rather. You wait." + +Wyatt was right. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +"The following boys will go in to extra lesson this afternoon and next +Wednesday," it began. And "the following boys" numbered four hundred. + +"Bates must have got writer's cramp," said Clowes, as he read the huge +scroll. + + * * * * * + +Wyatt met Mike after school, as they went back to the house. + +"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." + +"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." + +"How do you mean?" + +"We got tanned," said Mike ruefully. + +"What!" + +"Yes. Everybody below the Upper Fourth." + +Wyatt roared with laughter. + +"By Gad," he said, "he is an old sportsman. I never saw such a man. He +lowers all records." + +"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." + +"Sting?" + +"Should think it did." + +"Well, buck up. Don't break down." + +"I'm not breaking down," said Mike indignantly. + +"All right, I thought you weren't. Anyhow, you're better off than I +am." + +"An extra's nothing much," said Mike. + +"It is when it happens to come on the same day as the M.C.C. match." + +"Oh, by Jove! I forgot. That's next Wednesday, isn't it? You won't be +able to play!" + +"No." + +"I say, what rot!" + +"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." + +"I should be awfully sick, if it were me." + +"Well, it isn't you, so you're all right. You'll probably get my place +in the team." + +Mike smiled dutifully at what he supposed to be a humorous sally. + +"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." + +"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. + +"I'm not rotting," said Wyatt seriously, "I'll suggest it to Burgess +to-night." + +"You don't think there's any chance of it, really, do you?" said Mike +awkwardly. + +"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." + +"I say," said Mike, overcome, "it's awfully decent of you, Wyatt." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"You rotter! You rotter! You _worm_!" he observed crisply, as +Wyatt appeared. + +"Dear old Billy!" said Wyatt. "Come on, give me a kiss, and let's be +friends." + +"You----!" + +"William! William!" + +"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." + +He struggled into his shirt--he was changing after a bath--and his +face popped wrathfully out at the other end. + +"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." + +"You haven't got a mind," grumbled Burgess. "You've got a cheap brown +paper substitute. That's your trouble." + +Wyatt turned the conversation tactfully. + +"How many wickets did you get to-day?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Why don't you play him against the M.C.C. on Wednesday?" said Wyatt, +jumping at his opportunity. + +"What? Are you sitting on my left shoe?" + +"No. There it is in the corner." + +"Right ho!... What were you saying?" + +"Why not play young Jackson for the first?" + +"Too small." + +"Rot. What does size matter? Cricket isn't footer. Besides, he isn't +small. He's as tall as I am." + +"I suppose he is. Dash, I've dropped my stud." + +Wyatt waited patiently till he had retrieved it. Then he returned to +the attack. + +"He's as good a bat as his brother, and a better field." + +"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." + +"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." + +Burgess hesitated. + +"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." + +Wyatt got up, and kicked the wall as a vent for his feelings. + +"You rotter," he said. "Can't you _see_ 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." + +Wyatt stopped for breath. + +"All right," said Burgess, "I'll think it over. Frightful gift of the +gab you've got, Wyatt." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE M.C.C. MATCH + + +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. + +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. + +He had almost reached the pavilion when one of the M.C.C. team came +down the steps, saw him, and stopped dead. + +"By Jove, Saunders!" cried Mike. + +"Why, Master Mike!" + +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. + +"Why, Master Mike, you don't mean to say you're playing for the school +already?" + +Mike nodded happily. + +"Isn't it ripping," he said. + +Saunders slapped his leg in a sort of ecstasy. + +"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." + +"Of course, I'm only playing as a sub., you know. Three chaps are in +extra, and I got one of the places." + +"Well, you'll make a hundred to-day, Master Mike, and then they'll +have to put you in." + +"Wish I could!" + +"Master Joe's come down with the Club," said Saunders. + +"Joe! Has he really? How ripping! Hullo, here he is. Hullo, Joe?" + +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. + +"Mike! You aren't playing!" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I'm hanged! Young marvel, isn't he, Saunders?" + +"He is, sir," said Saunders. "Got all the strokes. I always said it, +Master Joe. Only wants the strength." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Brother of yours?" asked the wicket-keeper. + +"Probably too proud to own the relationship, but he is." + +"Isn't there any end to you Jacksons?" demanded the wicket-keeper in +an aggrieved tone. "I never saw such a family." + +"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." + +"I _have_ won the toss," said the other with dignity. "Do you +think I don't know the elementary duties of a captain?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Burgess, however, was optimistic, as usual. "Better have a go for +them," he said to Berridge and Marsh, the school first pair. + +Following out this courageous advice, Berridge, after hitting three +boundaries in his first two overs, was stumped half-way through the +third. + +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. + +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. + +Then the great wicket-keeper took off the pads and gloves, and the +fieldsmen retired to posts at the extreme edge of the ground. + +"Lobs," said Burgess. "By Jove, I wish I was in." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bob Jackson went in next, with instructions to keep his eye on the +lob-man. + +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. + +Mike's heart jumped as he saw the bails go. It was his turn next. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"To leg, sir," said the umpire. + +"Don't be in a funk," said a voice. "Play straight, and you can't get +out." + +It was Joe, who had taken the gloves when the wicket-keeper went on to +bowl. + +Mike grinned, wryly but gratefully. + +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. + +Saunders ran to the crease, and bowled. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The lob bowler had taken himself off, and the Oxford Authentic had +gone on, fast left-hand. + +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. + +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. + +Mike walked away from the wickets with Joe and the wicket-keeper. + +"I'm sorry about your nose, Joe," said the wicket-keeper in tones of +grave solicitude. + +"What's wrong with it?" + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A SLIGHT IMBROGLIO + + +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 are. 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." + +Mike was a certainty now for the second. But it needed more than one +performance to secure the first cap. + +"I told you so," said Wyatt, naturally, to Burgess after the match. + +"He's not bad," said Burgess. "I'll give him another shot." + +But Burgess, as has been pointed out, was not a person who ever became +gushing with enthusiasm. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The following, _verbatim_, 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. + +"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." + +Mike departed, bursting with fury. + +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. + +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. + +"Come on," he shouted, prancing down the pitch. + +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. + +These are solemn moments. + +The only possible way of smoothing over an episode of this kind is for +the guilty man to grovel. + +Firby-Smith did not grovel. + +"Easy run there, you know," he said reprovingly. + +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. + +"Don't _laugh_, you grinning ape!" he cried. "It isn't funny." + +[Illustration: "DON'T _LAUGH_, YOU GRINNING APE"] + +He then made for the trees where the rest of the team were sitting. + +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. + +He avoided Mike on his return to the trees. And Mike, feeling now a +little apprehensive, avoided him. + +The Gazeka brooded apart for the rest of the afternoon, chewing the +insult. At close of play he sought Burgess. + +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. + +"I want to speak to you, Burgess," he said. + +"What's up?" said Burgess. + +"You know young Jackson in our house." + +"What about him?" + +"He's been frightfully insolent." + +"Cheeked you?" said Burgess, a man of simple speech. + +"I want you to call a prefects' meeting, and lick him." + +Burgess looked incredulous. + +"Rather a large order, a prefects' meeting," he said. "It has to be a +pretty serious sort of thing for that." + +"Frightful cheek to a school prefect is a serious thing," said +Firby-Smith, with the air of one uttering an epigram. + +"Well, I suppose--What did he say to you?" + +Firby-Smith related the painful details. + +Burgess started to laugh, but turned the laugh into a cough. + +"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." + +"He's frightfully conceited." + +"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." + +And the matter was left temporarily at that. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MIKE CREATES A VACANCY + + +Burgess walked off the ground feeling that fate was not using him +well. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Sportsman_ and _Field_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Busy, Bob?" he asked. + +"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?" + +"No, thanks. I say, Bob, look here, I want to see you." + +"Well, you can, can't you? This is me, sitting over here. The tall, +dark, handsome chap." + +"It's awfully awkward, you know," continued Burgess gloomily; "that +ass of a young brother of yours--Sorry, but he _is_ an ass, +though he's your brother----" + +"Thanks for the 'though,' Billy. You know how to put a thing nicely. +What's Mike been up to?" + +"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." + +Bob displayed interest and excitement for the first time. + +"Prefects' meeting! What the dickens is up? What's he been doing? +Smith must be drunk. What's all the row about?" + +Burgess repeated the main facts of the case as he had them from +Firby-Smith. + +"Personally, I sympathise with the kid," he added, "Still, the Gazeka +_is_ a prefect----" + +Bob gnawed a pen-holder morosely. + +"Silly young idiot," he said. + +"Sickening thing being run out," suggested Burgess. + +"Still----" + +"I know. It's rather hard to see what to do. I suppose if the Gazeka +insists, one's bound to support him." + +"I suppose so." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Burgess looked miserable. + +"I say, Bob," he said. + +"Yes?" + +"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. + +Bob went across to Wain's to interview and soothe Firby-Smith. + +He found that outraged hero sitting moodily in his study like Achilles +in his tent. + +Seeing Bob, he became all animation. + +"Look here," he said, "I wanted to see you. You know, that frightful +young brother of yours----" + +"I know, I know," said Bob. "Burgess was telling me. He wants +kicking." + +"He wants a frightful licking from the prefects," emended the +aggrieved party. + +"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." + +Firby-Smith looked a little blank at this. He had a great admiration +for Bob. + +"I didn't think of you," he said. + +"I thought you hadn't," said Bob. "You see it now, though, don't you?" + +Firby-Smith returned to the original grievance. + +"Well, you know, it was frightful cheek." + +"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?" + +"All right. After all, I did run him out." + +"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." + +"No. All right then." + +"Thanks," said Bob, and went to find Mike. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I say," said Burton, "I'm jolly glad you're playing for the first +against Geddington." + +"Thanks," said Mike. + +"I'm specially glad for one reason." + +"What's that?" inquired Mike, without interest. + +"Because your beast of a brother has been chucked out. He'd have been +playing but for you." + +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. + +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 +_all_ beasts. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Come in!" yelled the captain. "Hullo!" + +"I'm awfully sorry, Burgess," said Mike. "I've crocked my wrist a +bit." + +"How did you do that? You were all right at the nets?" + +"Slipped as I was changing," said Mike stolidly. + +"Is it bad?" + +"Nothing much. I'm afraid I shan't be able to play to-morrow." + +"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?" + +"Oh, yes, rather." + +"Hope so, anyway." + +"Thanks. Good-night." + +"Good-night." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AN EXPERT EXAMINATION + + +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. + +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. + +His telegram arrived during morning school. Mike went down to the +station to meet him after lunch. + +Uncle John took command of the situation at once. + +"School playing anybody to-day, Mike? I want to see a match." + +"They're playing Geddington. Only it's away. There's a second match +on." + +"Why aren't you--Hullo, I didn't see. What have you been doing to +yourself?" + +"Crocked my wrist a bit. It's nothing much." + +"How did you do that?" + +"Slipped while I was changing after cricket." + +"Hurt?" + +"Not much, thanks." + +"Doctor seen it?" + +"No. But it's really nothing. Be all right by Monday." + +"H'm. Somebody ought to look at it. I'll have a look later on." + +Mike did not appear to relish this prospect. + +"It isn't anything, Uncle John, really. It doesn't matter a bit." + +"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?" + +"I shouldn't be able to steer." + +"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." + +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! + +"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. + +"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." + +Uncle John detected the envious note. + +"I suppose you would have been playing here but for your wrist?" + +"No, I was playing for the first." + +"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?" + +"Depends on Bob." + +"Has Bob got your place?" + +Mike nodded. + +"If he does well to-day, they'll probably keep him in." + +"Isn't there room for both of you?" + +"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." + +"Rather awkward, that." + +"Still, it's Bob's last year. I've got plenty of time. But I wish I +could get in this year." + +After they had watched the match for an hour, Uncle John's restless +nature asserted itself. + +"Suppose we go for a pull on the river now?" he suggested. + +They got up. + +"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." + +Apparently Bob had not had a chance yet of distinguishing himself. The +telegram read, "Geddington 151 for four. Lunch." + +"Not bad that," said Mike. "But I believe they're weak in bowling." + +They walked down the road towards the school landing-stage. + +"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." + +"Pull your left," said Mike. "That willow's what you want." + +Uncle John looked over his shoulder, caught a crab, recovered himself, +and steered the boat in under the shade of the branches. + +"Put the rope over that stump. Can you manage with one hand? Here, let +me--Done it? Good. A-ah!" + +He blew a great cloud of smoke into the air, and sighed contentedly. + +"I hope you don't smoke, Mike?" + +"No." + +"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." + +A hunted expression came into Mike's eyes. + +"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. + +To Mike it seemed as if everything in the world was standing still and +waiting. He could hear nothing but his own breathing. + +His uncle pressed the wrist gingerly once or twice, then gave it a +little twist. + +"That hurt?" he asked. + +"Ye--no," stammered Mike. + +Uncle John looked up sharply. Mike was crimson. + +"What's the game?" inquired Uncle John. + +Mike said nothing. + +There was a twinkle in his uncle's eyes. + +"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?" + +Mike hesitated. + +"I only wanted to get out of having to write this morning. There was +an exam, on." + +The idea had occurred to him just before he spoke. It had struck him +as neat and plausible. + +To Uncle John it did not appear in the same light. + +"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." + +When in doubt, one may as well tell the truth. Mike told it. + +"I know. It wasn't that, really. Only----" + +"Well?" + +"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." + +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.) + +"Swear you won't tell him. He'd be most frightfully sick if he knew." + +"I won't tell him." + +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.... + +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. + +"Jove, I was nearly asleep. What's the time? Just on six? Didn't know +it was so late." + +"I ought to be getting back soon, I think. Lock-up's at half-past." + +"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." + +"There'll be another telegram, I should think," said Mike, as they +reached the school gates. + +"Shall we go and look?" + +They walked to the shop. + +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. + +It ran as follows: + + "Geddington 247 (Burgess six wickets, Neville-Smith four). + Wrykyn 270 for nine (Berridge 86, Marsh 58, Jackson 48)." + +Mike worked his way back through the throng, and rejoined his uncle. + +"Well?" said Uncle John. + +"We won." + +He paused for a moment. + +"Bob made forty-eight," he added carelessly. + +Uncle John felt in his pocket, and silently slid a sovereign into +Mike's hand. + +It was the only possible reply. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +ANOTHER VACANCY + + +Wyatt got back late that night, arriving at the dormitory as Mike was +going to bed. + +"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?" + +"Oh, better, thanks." + +Wyatt began to undress. + +"Any colours?" asked Mike after a pause. First eleven colours were +generally given in the pavilion after a match or on the journey home. + +"No. Only one or two thirds. Jenkins and Clephane, and another chap, +can't remember who. No first, though." + +"What was Bob's innings like?" + +"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." + +"I should have thought they'd have given him his colours." + +"Most captains would have done, only Burgess is so keen on fielding +that he rather keeps off it." + +"Why, did he field badly?" + +"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." + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Directness was always one of Burgess's leading qualities. + +"Look here, Bob. About your fielding. It's simply awful." + +Bob was all remorse. + +"It's those beastly slip catches. I can't time them." + +"That one yesterday was right into your hands. Both of them were." + +"I know. I'm frightfully sorry." + +"Well, but I mean, why _can't_ 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." + +"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." + +"Second be blowed! I want your batting in the first. Do you think +you'd really do better in the deep?" + +"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." + +"All right then. Try it." + +The conversation turned to less pressing topics. + + * * * * * + +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. + +As for Mike, he played for the second, and hoped for the day. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Among these was one Leather-Twigg, of Seymour's, better known in +criminal circles as Shoeblossom. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Punch_, sucked oranges, and thought of Life. + +Two days later Barry felt queer. He, too, disappeared from Society. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +BOB HAS NEWS TO IMPART + + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Tea?" + +"Tea!" said Neville-Smith scornfully. + +"Well, what then?" + +"Don't you ever have feeds in the dorms. after lights-out in the +houses?" + +"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?" + +"Eleven suit you?" + +"All right." + +"How about getting out?" + +"I'll do it as quickly as the team did to-day. I can't say more than +that." + +"You were all right." + +"I'm an exceptional sort of chap." + +"What about the Jacksons?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Not seen much of each other lately, Mike, what?" + +Mike murmured unintelligibly through a mouthful of bread-and-jam. + +"It's no good pretending it isn't an awkward situation," continued +Bob, "because it is. Beastly awkward." + +"Awful rot the pater sending us to the same school." + +"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." + +"You get on much better in the deep." + +"Bit better, yes. Liable at any moment to miss a sitter, though. Not +that it matters much really whether I do now." + +Mike stared. + +"What! Why?" + +"That's what I wanted to see you about. Has Burgess said anything to +you yet?" + +"No. Why? What about?" + +"Well, I've a sort of idea our little race is over. I fancy you've +won." + +"I've not heard a word----" + +"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 _Wrykynian_ +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_ 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.'" + +"Oh, rot," muttered Mike, wiping the sweat off his forehead. This was +one of the most harrowing interviews he had ever been through. + +"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." + +Mike looked at the floor, and said nothing. + +There was nothing much to _be_ said. + +"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." + +It was the custom at Wrykyn, when you congratulated a man on getting +colours, to shake his hand. They shook hands. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In this fermenting state Mike went into the house. + +The list of the team to play for Wain's _v_. 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. + + "All the above will turn out for house-fielding at 6.30 to-morrow + morning.--W. F.-S." + +"Oh, dash it," said Mike, "what rot! Why on earth can't he leave us +alone!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +MIKE GOES TO SLEEP AGAIN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mike thought he would take another minute. + +And during that minute there floated into his mind the question, Who +_was_ Firby-Smith? That was the point. Who _was_ he, after all? + +This started quite a new train of thought. Previously Mike had firmly +intended to get up--some time. Now he began to waver. + +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. + +Was this right, he asked himself. Was this proper? + +And the hands of the watch moved round to twenty to. + +What was the matter with his fielding? _It_ was all right. Make +the rest of the team fag about, yes. But not a chap who, dash it all, +had got his first _for_ fielding! + +It was with almost a feeling of self-righteousness that Mike turned +over on his side and went to sleep again. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Firby-Smith straightened his tie, and glared. + +"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?" + +Mike admitted that he had seen the notice. + +"Then you frightful kid, what do you mean by it? What?" + +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 _was_ a toothy weed; but he felt a firm conviction that +it would not be politic to say so. + +Happy thought: over-slept himself. + +He mentioned this. + +"Over-slept yourself! You must jolly well not over-sleep yourself. +What do you mean by over-sleeping yourself?" + +Very trying this sort of thing. + +"What time did you wake up?" + +"Six," said Mike. + +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. + +"Six!" + +"Five past." + +"Why didn't you get up then?" + +"I went to sleep again." + +"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." + +"I don't," said Mike indignantly. + +"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?" + +Mike said nothing. + +"Do--you--see, you frightful kid?" + +[Illustration: "DO--YOU--SEE, YOU FRIGHTFUL KID?"] + +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. + +Firby-Smith's manner became ominously calm. He produced a +swagger-stick from a corner. + +"Do you see?" he asked again. + +Mike's jaw set more tightly. + +What one really wants here is a row of stars. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +He left the dormitory, and Mike began to brood over his wrongs once +more. + +Wyatt came back, brandishing a jug of water and a glass. + +"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!" + +He put down the glass, and surveyed Mike, who had maintained a moody +silence throughout this speech. + +"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?" + +"It's only that ass Firby-Smith." + +"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." + +"He said I stuck on side." + +"Why?" + +"I don't know." + +"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?" + +"It was the house-fielding." + +"But you can't stick on side at house-fielding. I defy any one to. +It's too early in the morning." + +"I didn't turn up." + +"What! Why?" + +"Oh, I don't know." + +"No, but, look here, really. Did you simply bunk it?" + +"Yes." + +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. + +"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!'" + +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. + +"Nothing like this old '87 water," he said. "Such body." + +"I like you jawing about discipline," said Mike morosely. + +"And why, my gentle che-ild, should I not talk about discipline?" + +"Considering you break out of the house nearly every night." + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE TEAM IS FILLED UP + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Doctor Oakes thinks he will be back in school on Tuesday." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Bob got to it with one hand, and held it. His impetus carried him on +almost to where Burgess was standing. + +"Well held," said Burgess. + +"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. + +"I couldn't get both hands to it," he explained. + +"You're hot stuff in the deep." + +"Easy when you're only practising." + +"I've just been to the Infirmary." + +"Oh. How's Marsh?" + +"They wouldn't let me see him, but it's all right. He'll be able to +play on Saturday." + +"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. + +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. + +Then the Jekyll and Hyde business completed itself. He suppressed his +personal feelings, and became the cricket captain again. + +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. + +"What's up?" inquired Burgess. + +"Young Jackson, do you mean? Oh, nothing. I was only telling him that +there was going to be house-fielding to-morrow before breakfast." + +"Didn't he like the idea?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +He felt that he had been deceived in Mike. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +The crowd that collected the moment Burgess had walked off carried him +right up to the board. + +He looked at the paper. + +"Hard luck!" said somebody. + +Mike scarcely heard him. + +He felt physically sick with the shock of the disappointment. For the +initial before the name Jackson was R. + +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. + +Bob had beaten him on the tape. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MARJORY THE FRANK + + +At the door of the senior block Burgess, going out, met Bob coming in, +hurrying, as he was rather late. + +"Congratulate you, Bob," he said; and passed on. + +Bob stared after him. As he stared, Trevor came out of the block. + +"Congratulate you, Bob." + +"What's the matter now?" + +"Haven't you seen?" + +"Seen what?" + +"Why the list. You've got your first." + +"My--what? you're rotting." + +"No, I'm not. Go and look." + +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. + +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. + +"Congratulate you, Bob," he said awkwardly. + +"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. + +There was a short silence. + +"Jolly glad you've got it," said Mike. + +"I believe there's a mistake. I swear I heard Burgess say to Spence----" + +"He changed his mind probably. No reason why he shouldn't." + +"Well, it's jolly rummy." + +Bob endeavoured to find consolation. + +"Anyhow, you'll have three years in the first. You're a cert. for next +year." + +"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. + +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. + +"Heard from home lately?" inquired Mike. + +Bob snatched gladly at the subject. + +"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." + +"Thanks. It'll be something to do during Math." + +"Marjory wrote, too, for the first time in her life. Haven't had time +to look at it yet." + +"After you. Sure it isn't meant for me? She owes me a letter." + +"No, it's for me all right. I'll give it you in the interval." + +The arrival of the headmaster put an end to the conversation. + + * * * * * + +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. + +He was doing this in a literal as well as in a figurative sense when +Bob entered the school shop. + +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. + +"Hullo," said Mike amiably. "Got that letter?" + +"Yes. I'll show it you outside." + +"Why not here?" + +"Come on." + +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.' + +Bob led the way across the gravel and on to the first terrace. When +they had left the crowd behind, he stopped. + +"What's up?" asked Mike. + +"I want you to read----" + +"Jackson!" + +They both turned. The headmaster was standing on the edge of the +gravel. + +Bob pushed the letter into Mike's hands. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + + "DEAR BOB" (the letter ran),-- + + "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, + + "From your affectionate sister + + "Marjory." + +There followed a P.S. + + "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 _the_ + 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? + + "M. + + "P.P.S.--This has been a frightful fag to write." + +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 _ass_! 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! + +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. + +"Well?" said Bob. + +"How do you mean?" said Mike. + +"Did you read it?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, is it all rot, or did you--you know what I mean--sham a crocked +wrist?" + +"Yes," said Mike, "I did." + +Bob stared gloomily at his toes. + +"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 if +_for_? 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." + +"I didn't think you'd ever know. You wouldn't have if only that ass +Uncle John hadn't let it out." + +"How did he get to know? Why did you tell him?" + +"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." + +Bob scratched thoughtfully at the turf with a spike of his boot. + +"Of course, it was awfully decent----" + +Then again the monstrous nature of the affair came home to him. + +"But what did you do it _for_? Why should you rot up your own +chances to give me a look in?" + +"Oh, I don't know.... You know, you did _me_ a jolly good turn." + +"I don't remember. When?" + +"That Firby-Smith business." + +"What about it?" + +"Well, you got me out of a jolly bad hole." + +"Oh, rot! And do you mean to tell me it was simply because of that----?" + +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. + +"Anyhow, it's all over now," Mike said, "so I don't see what's the +point of talking about it." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +The hopelessness of the situation came over Bob like a wave. He looked +helplessly at Mike. + +"Besides," added Mike, "I shall get in next year all right. Half a +second, I just want to speak to Wyatt about something." + +He sidled off. + +"Well, anyhow," said Bob to himself, "I must see Burgess about it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +WYATT IS REMINDED OF AN ENGAGEMENT + + +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. + +To-day's Great Thought for Young Readers. Imitate this man. + +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. + +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. + +"Very rum," Bob agreed. "Still, what you say doesn't help us out much, +seeing that the point is, what's to be done?" + +"Why do anything?" + +Burgess was a philosopher, and took the line of least resistance, like +the man in the oak-tree. + +"But I must do something," said Bob. "Can't you see how rotten it is +for me?" + +"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 _are_, in it. +What's he got to grumble about?" + +"He's not grumbling. It's me." + +"What's the matter with you? Don't you want your first?" + +"Not like this. Can't you see what a rotten position it is for me?" + +"Don't you worry. You simply keep on saying you're all right. Besides, +what do you want me to do? Alter the list?" + +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 _not_ 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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You know perfectly well Mike's every bit as good as me." + +"He isn't so keen." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Fielding. He's a young slacker." + +When Burgess had once labelled a man as that, he did not readily let +the idea out of his mind. + +"Slacker? What rot! He's as keen as anything." + +"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." + +"Smith oughtn't to have told you." + +"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." + +"Oh, all right," said Bob. "I was afraid you mightn't be able to do +anything. So long." + +"Mind the step," said Burgess. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Thanks," said Neville-Smith, with a brilliant display of front teeth. + +"Feeling good?" + +"Not the word for it. I feel like--I don't know what." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Delighted. Anything for a free feed in these hard times. What time +did you say it was?" + +"Eleven. Make it a bit earlier, if you like." + +"No, eleven'll do me all right." + +"How are you going to get out?" + +"'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." + +"They ought to allow you a latch-key." + +"Yes, I've often thought of asking my pater for one. Still, I get on +very well. Who are coming besides me?" + +"No boarders. They all funked it." + +"The race is degenerating." + +"Said it wasn't good enough." + +"The school is going to the dogs. Who did you ask?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"You _will_ turn up, won't you?" + +"Nothing shall stop me." + +"Good man." + +As Wyatt was turning away, a sudden compunction seized upon +Neville-Smith. He called him back. + +"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." + +"Oh, that's all right," said Wyatt. "Don't you worry about me. I +should have gone out anyhow to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A SURPRISE FOR MR. APPLEBY + + +"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." + +Mike could not help thinking that for himself it was the very reverse, +but he did not state his view of the case. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Are you going?" + +"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." + +"When are you going to start?" + +"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." + +"Don't go getting caught." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He dropped cautiously into Appleby's garden, ran lightly across it, +and was in the lane within a minute. + +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. + +"What a night!" he said to himself, sniffing as he walked. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was just feeling for his matches to relight it when Wyatt dropped +with a slight thud into his favourite herbaceous border. + +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. + +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 _via_ 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. + +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. + +At this point it began to strike him that the episode affected him as +a schoolmaster also. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This was the conclusion to which Mr. Appleby came over his relighted +pipe. He could not let the matter rest where it was. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Can I have a word with you, Wain?" he said. + +"Appleby! Is there anything the matter? I was startled when you +tapped. Exceedingly so." + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +CAUGHT + + +"Got some rather bad news for you, I'm afraid," began Mr. Appleby. +"I'll smoke, if you don't mind. About Wyatt." + +"James!" + +"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." + +Mr. Appleby said this with a tinge of bitterness. The thing still +rankled. + +"James! In your garden! Impossible. Why, it is not a quarter of an +hour since I left him in his dormitory." + +"He's not there now." + +"You astound me, Appleby. I am astonished." + +"So was I." + +"How is such a thing possible? His window is heavily barred." + +"Bars can be removed." + +"You must have been mistaken." + +"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." + +"No, sit down, Appleby. Dear me, this is most extraordinary. +Exceedingly so. You are certain it was James?" + +"Perfectly. It's like daylight out of doors." + +Mr. Wain drummed on the table with his fingers. + +"What shall I do?" + +Mr. Appleby offered no suggestion. + +"I ought to report it to the headmaster. That is certainly the course +I should pursue." + +"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." + +"There is certainly something in what you say," said Mr. Wain on +reflection. + +"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." + +"I will. Yes. You are quite right, Appleby. That is a very good idea +of yours. You are not going?" + +"Must. Got a pile of examination papers to look over. Good-night." + +"Good-night." + +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 +_he_ 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. + +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.... + +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. + +He took a candle, and walked quietly upstairs. + +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. + +If further proof had been needed, one of the bars was missing from the +window. The moon shone in through the empty space. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Wain had arrived at this conclusion, and was beginning to feel a +little cramped, when Mike Jackson suddenly sat up. + +"Hullo!" said Mike. + +"Go to sleep, Jackson, immediately," snapped the house-master. + +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. + +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 _him_ (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! + +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 +_coup_. The most brilliant of _coups_ could effect nothing now. +Absolutely and entirely the game was up. + + * * * * * + +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. + +At that moment Mr. Wain relit his candle. + +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. + +"James!" said Mr. Wain. His voice sounded ominously hollow. + +Wyatt dusted his knees, and rubbed his hands together. "Hullo, is that +you, father!" he said pleasantly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MARCHING ORDERS + + +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. + +"You have been out, James?" + +It is curious how in the more dramatic moments of life the inane +remark is the first that comes to us. + +"Yes, sir," said Wyatt. + +"I am astonished. Exceedingly astonished." + +"I got a bit of a start myself," said Wyatt. + +"I shall talk to you in my study. Follow me there." + +"Yes, sir." + +He left the room, and Wyatt suddenly began to chuckle. + +"I say, Wyatt!" said Mike, completely thrown off his balance by the +events of the night. + +Wyatt continued to giggle helplessly. He flung himself down on his +bed, rolling with laughter. Mike began to get alarmed. + +"It's all right," said Wyatt at last, speaking with difficulty. "But, +I say, how long had he been sitting there?" + +"It seemed hours. About an hour, I suppose, really." + +"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!" + +"But look here, what'll happen?" + +Wyatt sat up. + +"That reminds me. Suppose I'd better go down." + +"What'll he do, do you think?" + +"Ah, now, what!" + +"But, I say, it's awful. What'll happen?" + +"That's for him to decide. Speaking at a venture, I should say----" + +"You don't think----?" + +"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 _Wisden_. That'll be me. Well, +I suppose I'd better go down. We'd better all get to bed _some_ +time to-night. Don't go to sleep." + +"Not likely." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +In the study Mr. Wain was fumbling restlessly with his papers when +Wyatt appeared. + +"Sit down, James," he said. + +Wyatt sat down. One of his slippers fell off with a clatter. Mr. Wain +jumped nervously. + +"Only my slipper," explained Wyatt. "It slipped." + +Mr. Wain took up a pen, and began to tap the table. + +"Well, James?" + +Wyatt said nothing. + +"I should be glad to hear your explanation of this disgraceful +matter." + +"The fact is----" said Wyatt. + +"Well?" + +"I haven't one, sir." + +"What were you doing out of your dormitory, out of the house, at that +hour?" + +"I went for a walk, sir." + +"And, may I inquire, are you in the habit of violating the strictest +school rules by absenting yourself from the house during the night?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"What?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"This is an exceedingly serious matter." + +Wyatt nodded agreement with this view. + +"Exceedingly." + +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. + +"I wish you wouldn't do that, father. Tap like that, I mean. It's +sending me to sleep." + +"James!" + +"It's like a woodpecker." + +"Studied impertinence----" + +"I'm very sorry. Only it _was_ sending me off." + +Mr. Wain suspended tapping operations, and resumed the thread of his +discourse. + +"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----" + +"No, sir." + +"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." + +"Of course," said Wyatt, approvingly. + +"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?" + +"The sack," said Wyatt laconically. + +"It is expulsion. You must leave the school. At once." + +Wyatt nodded. + +"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----" + +"After all, they only gain an extra fortnight of me." + +"You will leave directly I receive his letter. I shall arrange with +the headmaster that you are withdrawn privately----" + +"_Not_ the sack?" + +"Withdrawn privately. You will not go to school to-morrow. Do you +understand? That is all. Have you anything to say?" + +Wyatt reflected. + +"No, I don't think----" + +His eye fell on a tray bearing a decanter and a syphon. + +"Oh, yes," he said. "Can't I mix you a whisky and soda, father, before +I go off to bed?" + + * * * * * + +"Well?" said Mike. + +Wyatt kicked off his slippers, and began to undress. + +"What happened?" + +"We chatted." + +"Has he let you off?" + +"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." + +Mike was miserably silent. + +"Buck up," said Wyatt cheerfully. "It would have happened anyhow in +another fortnight. So why worry?" + +Mike was still silent. The reflection was doubtless philosophic, but +it failed to comfort him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE AFTERMATH + + +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. + +"Anybody seen young--oh, here you are. What's all this about Jimmy +Wyatt? They're saying he's been sacked, or some rot." + +[Illustration: "WHAT'S ALL THIS ABOUT JIMMY WYATT?"] + +"So he has--at least, he's got to leave." + +"What? When?" + +"He's left already. He isn't coming to school again." + +Burgess's first thought, as befitted a good cricket captain, was for +his team. + +"And the Ripton match on Saturday!" + +Nobody seemed to have anything except silent sympathy at his command. + +"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!" + +"Beastly," agreed Mike. + +"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." + +"All right," said Mike, without enthusiasm. The Wyatt disaster was too +recent for him to feel much pleasure at playing against Ripton +_vice_ his friend, withdrawn. + +Bob was the next to interview him. They met in the cloisters. + +"Hullo, Mike!" said Bob. "I say, what's all this about Wyatt?" + +"Wain caught him getting back into the dorm. last night after +Neville-Smith's, and he's taken him away from the school." + +"What's he going to do? Going into that bank straight away?" + +"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." + +"He'll find it rather a change, I expect. I suppose you won't be +seeing him before he goes?" + +"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." + +"I should like to say good-bye. But I don't suppose it'll be +possible." + +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. + +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. + +"I say, Jackson, is this true about old Wyatt?" + +Mike nodded. + +"What happened?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Mike. + +"It was absolutely my fault." + +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. + +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. + +"What's up?" asked Bob. + +"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?" + +"What's happened now?" + +"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." + +"Neville-Smith! Why, what's he been doing?" + +"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." + +"And the Old Man shoved him in extra?" + +"Next two Saturdays." + +"Are Ripton strong this year?" asked Bob, for lack of anything better +to say. + +"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." + +"Oh, well, you never know what's going to happen at cricket. I may +hold a catch for a change." + +Burgess grunted. + +Bob went on his way to the nets. Mike was just putting on his pads. + +"I say, Mike," said Bob. "I wanted to see you. It's about Wyatt. I've +thought of something." + +"What's that?" + +"A way of getting him out of that bank. If it comes off, that's to +say." + +"By Jove, he'd jump at anything. What's the idea?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE RIPTON MATCH + + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Mr. Wyatt?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"H'm ... Sportsman?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Cricketer?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Play football?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"H'm ... Racquets?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Everything?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"H'm ... Well, you won't get any more of it now." + +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 _Wrykynian_, +'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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Burgess, inspecting the wicket with Mr. Spence during the quarter to +eleven interval, was not slow to recognise this fact. + +"I should win the toss to-day, if I were you, Burgess," said Mr. +Spence. + +"Just what I was thinking, sir." + +"That wicket's going to get nasty after lunch, if the sun comes out. A +regular Rhodes wicket it's going to be." + +"I wish we _had_ Rhodes," said Burgess. "Or even Wyatt. It would +just suit him, this." + +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. + +"Who will go on first with you, Burgess?" + +"Who do you think, sir? Ellerby? It might be his wicket." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I should. And, above all, win the toss." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"We'll go in first, Mac," said Burgess, as they met on the pavilion +steps after they had changed. + +"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." + +"Heads." + +"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." + +"You'll put us in, I suppose?" + +"Yes--after us." + +"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." + +And Burgess went off to tell the ground-man to have plenty of sawdust +ready, as he would want the field paved with it. + + * * * * * + +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. + +So Ripton went in to hit. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +So far it was anybody's game. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +MIKE WINS HOME + + +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. + +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 _denouement_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +The Ripton total was a hundred and sixty-six. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And in five minutes this had changed to a dull gloom. + +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. + +"It's that googly man," said Burgess blankly. + +"What's happened?" shouted a voice from the interior of the first +eleven room. + +"Morris is out." + +"Good gracious! How?" asked Ellerby, emerging from the room with one +pad on his leg and the other in his hand. + +"L.-b.-w. First ball." + +"My aunt! Who's in next? Not me?" + +"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. + +"Thought the thing was going to break, but it didn't." + +"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. + +"That chap'll have Berry, if he doesn't look out," he said. + +But Berridge survived the ordeal. He turned his first ball to leg for +a single. + +This brought Marsh to the batting end; and the second tragedy +occurred. + +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 _debris_ 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. + +A silence that could be felt brooded over the pavilion. + +The voice of the scorer, addressing from his little wooden hut the +melancholy youth who was working the telegraph-board, broke it. + +"One for two. Last man duck." + +Ellerby echoed the remark. He got up, and took off his blazer. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bob was the next man in. + +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. + +"You in next?" asked Ellerby. + +Mike nodded. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +The same idea apparently occurred to Burgess. He came to where Mike +was sitting. + +"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." + +"All right," said Mike. He was not quite sure whether he was glad or +sorry at the respite. + +"It's a pity old Wyatt isn't here," said Ellerby. "This is just the +sort of time when he might have come off." + +"Bob's broken his egg," said Mike. + +"Good man. Every little helps.... Oh, you silly ass, get _back_!" + +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. + +"Forty-one for four," said Ellerby. "Help!" + +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, _fortissimo_, 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. + +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. + +The melancholy youth put up the figures, 54, 5, 12, on the board. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"'S that?" shouted mid-on. Mid-on has a habit of appealing for +l.-b.-w. in school matches. + +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. + +The umpire shook his head. Mid-on tried to look as if he had not +spoken. + +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. + +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. + +Bob played out the over with elaborate care. + +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. + +"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." + +"You ass," said Berridge. "Don't say that, or he's certain to get +out." + +Berridge was one of those who are skilled in cricket superstitions. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was not kept long in suspense. De Freece's first ball made a +hideous wreck of his wicket. + +"Over," said the umpire. + +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.... + +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." + +"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. + +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. + +Mike took them. + +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. + +The last ball of the over he mishit. It rolled in the direction of +third man. + +"Come on," shouted Grant. + +Mike and the ball arrived at the opposite wicket almost +simultaneously. Another fraction of a second, and he would have been +run out. + +[Illustration: MIKE AND THE BALL ARRIVED ALMOST SIMULTANEOUSLY] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +That over was an experience Mike never forgot. + +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. + +Devenish came in to take the last ball of the over. + +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. + +The only person unmoved seemed to be de Freece. His smile was even +more amiable than usual as he began his run. + +The next moment the crisis was past. The ball hit the very centre of +Devenish's bat, and rolled back down the pitch. + +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. + +It seemed almost an anti-climax when a four to leg and two two's +through the slips settled the thing. + + * * * * * + +Devenish was caught and bowled in de Freece's next over; but the +Wrykyn total was one hundred and seventy-two. + + * * * * * + +"Good game," said Maclaine, meeting Burgess in the pavilion. "Who was +the man who made all the runs? How many, by the way?" + +"Eighty-three. It was young Jackson. Brother of the other one." + +"That family! How many more of them are you going to have here?" + +"He's the last. I say, rough luck on de Freece. He bowled rippingly." + +Politeness to a beaten foe caused Burgess to change his usual "not +bad." + +"The funny part of it is," continued he, "that young Jackson was only +playing as a sub." + +"You've got a rum idea of what's funny," said Maclaine. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +WYATT AGAIN + + +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. + +"I've had a letter from MacPherson," said Mr. Jackson. + +MacPherson was the vigorous and persevering gentleman, referred to in +a previous chapter, who kept a fatherly eye on the Buenos Ayres sheep. + +"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." + +"Has he been fighting a duel?" asked Marjory, interested. + +"Bushrangers," said Phyllis. + +"There aren't any bushrangers in Buenos Ayres," said Ella. + +"How do you know?" said Phyllis clinchingly. + +"Bush-ray, bush-ray, bush-ray," began Gladys Maud, conversationally, +through the bread-and-milk; but was headed off. + +"He gives no details. Perhaps that letter on Mike's plate supplies +them. I see it comes from Buenos Ayres." + +"I wish Mike would come and open it," said Marjory. "Shall I go and +hurry him up?" + +The missing member of the family entered as she spoke. + +"Buck up, Mike," she shouted. "There's a letter from Wyatt. He's been +wounded in a duel." + +"With a bushranger," added Phyllis. + +"Bush-ray," explained Gladys Maud. + +"Is there?" said Mike. "Sorry I'm late." + +He opened the letter and began to read. + +"What does he say?" inquired Marjory. "Who was the duel with?" + +"How many bushrangers were there?" asked Phyllis. + +Mike read on. + +"Good old Wyatt! He's shot a man." + +"Killed him?" asked Marjory excitedly. + +"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....'" + +"By Jove!" said Mike. + +"What a dreadful thing!" said Mrs. Jackson. + +"Anyhow, it was practically a bushranger," said Phyllis. + +"I told you it was a duel, and so it was," said Marjory. + +"What a terrible experience for the poor boy!" said Mrs. Jackson. + +"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?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND + + +Two years have elapsed and Mike is home again for the Easter holidays. + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo, Mike," she said, jumping up as he entered; "here you are--I've +been keeping everything hot for you." + +"Have you? Thanks awfully. I say--" his eye wandered in mild surprise +round the table. "I'm a bit late." + +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. + +Phyllis and Ella finished their dispute and went out. Marjory sat on +the table and watched Mike eat. + +"Your report came this morning, Mike," she said. + +The kidneys failed to retain Mike's undivided attention. He looked up +interested. "What did it say?" + +"I didn't see--I only caught sight of the Wrykyn crest on the +envelope. Father didn't say anything." + +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." + +"It can't be any worse than the horrid ones Mr. Blake used to write +when you were in his form." + +"No, that's a comfort," said Mike philosophically. "Think there's any +more tea in that pot?" + +"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." + +"Last summer he said he'd take me away if I got another one." + +"He didn't mean it really, I _know_ he didn't! He couldn't! +You're the best bat Wrykyn's ever had." + +"What ho!" interpolated Mike. + +"You _are_. 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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I wish I wasn't; it's a beastly responsibility." + +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. + +As he was walking towards the house, Phyllis met him. "Oh, I've been +hunting for you, Mike; father wants you." + +"What for?" + +"I don't know." + +"Where?" + +"He's in the study. He seems--" added Phyllis, throwing in the +information by way of a make-weight, "in a beastly wax." + +Mike's jaw fell slightly. "I hope the dickens it's nothing to do with +that bally report," was his muttered exclamation. + +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 _resume_ 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. + +It was with a certain amount of apprehension, therefore, that Jackson +entered the study. + +"Come in, Mike," said his father, kicking the waste-paper basket; "I +want to speak to you." + +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. + +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. + +"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----" + +"Never mind about cricket now," said Mr. Jackson; "I want you to +listen to this report." + +"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. + +"It is," replied Mr. Jackson in measured tones, "your report; what is +more, it is without exception the worst report you have ever had." + +"Oh, I say!" groaned the record-breaker. + +"'His conduct,'" quoted Mr. Jackson, "'has been unsatisfactory in the +extreme, both in and out of school.'" + +"It wasn't anything really. I only happened----" + +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. + +"'French bad; conduct disgraceful----'" + +"Everybody rags in French." + +"'Mathematics bad. Inattentive and idle.'" + +"Nobody does much work in Math." + +"'Latin poor. Greek, very poor.'" + +"We were doing Thucydides, Book Two, last term--all speeches and +doubtful readings, and cruxes and things--beastly hard! Everybody says +so." + +"Here are Mr. Appleby's remarks: 'The boy has genuine ability, which +he declines to use in the smallest degree.'" + +Mike moaned a moan of righteous indignation. + +"'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." + +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. + +"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. + +Mike said nothing; there was a sinking feeling in his interior. + +"I shall abide by what I said." + +Mike's heart thumped. + +"You will not go back to Wrykyn next term." + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Jackson was sorry for Mike. He understood him, and for that reason +he said very little now. + +"I am sending you to Sedleigh," was his next remark. + +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 _play_ cricket! + +"But it's an awful hole," he said blankly. + +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. + +"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. + +"Mr. Barlitt speaks very highly of Sedleigh," added Mr. Jackson. + +Mike said nothing, which was a good deal better than saying what he +would have liked to have said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +SEDLEIGH + + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Young gents at the school, sir," said the porter, perceiving from +Mike's _distrait_ air that the boy was a stranger to the place, +"goes up in the 'bus mostly. It's waiting here, sir. Hi, George!" + +"I'll walk, thanks," said Mike frigidly. + +"It's a goodish step, sir." + +"Here you are." + +"Thank you, sir. I'll send up your luggage by the 'bus, sir. Which +'ouse was it you was going to?" + +"Outwood's." + +"Right, sir. It's straight on up this road to the school. You can't +miss it, sir." + +"Worse luck," said Mike. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This must be Sedleigh. + +Ten minutes' walk brought him to the school gates, and a baker's boy +directed him to Mr. Outwood's. + +There were three houses in a row, separated from the school buildings +by a cricket-field. Outwood's was the middle one of these. + +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. + +He inquired for Mr. Outwood, and was shown into a room lined with +books. Presently the door opened, and the house-master appeared. + +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. + +"Jackson?" he said mildly. + +"Yes, sir." + +"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?" + +Mike, who would not have recognised a Cluniac Priory if you had handed +him one on a tray, said he had not. + +"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----" + +"Shall I go across to the boys' part, sir?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo," he said. + +He spoke in a tired voice. + +"Hullo," said Mike. + +"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?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +PSMITH + + +"Jackson," said Mike. + +"Are you the Bully, the Pride of the School, or the Boy who is Led +Astray and takes to Drink in Chapter Sixteen?" + +"The last, for choice," said Mike, "but I've only just arrived, so I +don't know." + +"The boy--what will he become? Are you new here, too, then?" + +"Yes! Why, are you new?" + +"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?" + +Mike said he saw. Psmith thanked him with a certain stately old-world +courtesy. + +"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." + +"No?" said Mike. + +"No. I was superannuated last term." + +"Bad luck." + +"For Eton, yes. But what Eton loses, Sedleigh gains." + +"But why Sedleigh, of all places?" + +"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----" + +"Not Barlitt!" exclaimed Mike. + +"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 _you_ know Barlitt?" + +"His pater's vicar of our village. It was because his son got a +Balliol that I was sent here." + +"Do you come from Crofton?" + +"Yes." + +"I've lived at Lower Benford all my life. We are practically long-lost +brothers. Cheer a little, will you?" + +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. + +"Where were you before you came here?" asked Psmith. "You have heard +my painful story. Now tell me yours." + +"Wrykyn. My pater took me away because I got such a lot of bad +reports." + +"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?" + +"Rotten." + +"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?" + +"He doesn't seem a bad sort of chap. Bit off his nut. Jawed about +apses and things." + +"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." + +"I'm not going to play here, at any rate," said Mike. + +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. + +Psmith approved the resolve. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I vote we get some tea first somewhere." + +"Then let's beat up a study. I suppose they have studies here. Let's +go and look." + +They went upstairs. On the first floor there was a passage with doors +on either side. Psmith opened the first of these. + +"This'll do us well," he said. + +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. + +"Might have been made for us," said Psmith approvingly. + +"I suppose it belongs to some rotter." + +"Not now." + +"You aren't going to collar it!" + +"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." + +"But the real owner's bound to turn up some time or other." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +STAKING OUT A CLAIM + + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Just ready. What would you give to be at Eton now? I'd give something +to be at Wrykyn." + +"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." + +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!" + +"Hackenschmidt!" said Mike. + +"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." + +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. + +Psmith rose courteously from his chair, and moved forward with slow +stateliness to do the honours. + +"What the dickens," inquired the newcomer, "are you doing here?" + +[Illustration: "WHAT THE DICKENS ARE YOU DOING HERE?"] + +"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." + +"My name's Spiller, and this is my study." + +Psmith leaned against the mantelpiece, put up his eyeglass, and +harangued Spiller in a philosophical vein. + +"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----" + +"I want to know what----" + +"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. + +The victim of Fate seemed in no way consoled. + +"It's beastly cheek, that's what I call it. Are you new chaps?" + +"The very latest thing," said Psmith. + +"Well, it's beastly cheek." + +Mike's outlook on life was of the solid, practical order. He went +straight to the root of the matter. + +"What are you going to do about it?" he asked. + +Spiller evaded the question. + +"It's beastly cheek," he repeated. "You can't go about the place +bagging studies." + +"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." + +"Look here, I tell you what it----" + +"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.'" + +"Can't I! I'll----" + +"What _are_ you going to do about it?" said Mike. + +"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." + +"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 _are_ an +insignificant-looking little weed." + +"We'll see what Outwood says about it." + +"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." + +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. + +Mr. Outwood received them with the motherly warmth which was evidently +the leading characteristic of his normal manner. + +"Ah, Spiller," he said. "And Smith, and Jackson. I am glad to see that +you have already made friends." + +"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." + +Mr. Outwood received this eulogy with rather a startled expression, +and gazed at the object of the tribute in a surprised way. + +"Er--quite so, Smith, quite so," he said at last. "I like to see boys +in my house friendly towards one another." + +"There is no vice in Spiller," pursued Psmith earnestly. "His heart is +the heart of a little child." + +"Please, sir," burst out this paragon of all the virtues, "I----" + +"But it was not entirely with regard to Spiller that I wished to speak +to you, sir, if you were not too busy." + +"Not at all, Smith, not at all. Is there anything----" + +"Please, sir--" began Spiller. + +"I understand, sir," said Psmith, "that there is an Archaeological +Society in the school." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Please, sir--" said Spiller. + +"One moment, Spiller. Do you want to join, Smith?" + +"Intensely, sir. Archaeology fascinates me. A grand pursuit, sir." + +"Undoubtedly, Smith. I am very pleased, very pleased indeed. I will +put down your name at once." + +"And Jackson's, sir." + +"Jackson, too!" Mr. Outwood beamed. "I am delighted. Most delighted. +This is capital. This enthusiasm is most capital." + +"Spiller, sir," said Psmith sadly, "I have been unable to induce to +join." + +"Oh, he is one of our oldest members." + +"Ah," said Psmith, tolerantly, "that accounts for it." + +"Please, sir--" said Spiller. + +"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." + +"We shall be there, sir." + +"Capital!" + +"Please, sir--" said Spiller. + +"One moment, Spiller," said Psmith. "There is just one other matter, +if you could spare the time, sir." + +"Certainly, Smith. What is that?" + +"Would there be any objection to Jackson and myself taking Simpson's +old study?" + +"By all means, Smith. A very good idea." + +"Yes, sir. It would give us a place where we could work quietly in the +evenings." + +"Quite so. Quite so." + +"Thank you very much, sir. We will move our things in." + +"Thank you very much, sir," said Mike. + +"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?" + +"I'm afraid I have already promised it to Smith, Spiller. You should +have spoken before." + +"But, sir----" + +Psmith eyed the speaker pityingly. + +"This tendency to delay, Spiller," he said, "is your besetting fault. +Correct it, Edwin. Fight against it." + +He turned to Mr. Outwood. + +"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." + +"Quite so. An excellent arrangement, Smith. I like this spirit of +comradeship in my house. Then you will be with us on Saturday?" + +"On Saturday, sir." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +GUERRILLA WARFARE + + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"What can he do? Outwood's given us the study." + +"What would you have done if somebody had bagged your study?" + +"Made it jolly hot for them!" + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"And jam a chair against it." + +"_And_, as you rightly remark, jam a chair against it. But what +of the nightfall? What of the time when we retire to our dormitory?" + +"Or dormitories. I say, if we're in separate rooms we shall be in the +cart." + +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." + +"We'd better nip down to the matron right off." + +"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." + +As they got up, the door handle rattled again, and this time there +followed a knocking. + +"This must be an emissary of Comrade Spiller's," said Psmith. "Let us +parley with the man." + +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. + +"I just came up to have a look at you," he explained. + +"If you move a little to the left," said Psmith, "you will catch the +light and shade effects on Jackson's face better." + +The new-comer giggled with renewed vigour. "Are you the chap with the +eyeglass who jaws all the time?" + +"I _do_ wear an eyeglass," said Psmith; "as to the rest of the +description----" + +"My name's Jellicoe." + +"Mine is Psmith--P-s-m-i-t-h--one of the Shropshire Psmiths. The +object on the skyline is Comrade Jackson." + +"Old Spiller," giggled Jellicoe, "is cursing you like anything +downstairs. You _are_ chaps! Do you mean to say you simply bagged +his study? He's making no end of a row about it." + +"Spiller's fiery nature is a byword," said Psmith. + +"What's he going to do?" asked Mike, in his practical way. + +"He's going to get the chaps to turn you out." + +"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?" + +"Me? No fear! I think Spiller's an ass." + +"There's nothing like a common thought for binding people together. +_I_ think Spiller's an ass." + +"How many _will_ there be, then?" asked Mike. + +"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." + +"Sturdy common sense," said Psmith approvingly, "seems to be the chief +virtue of the Sedleigh character." + +"We shall be able to tackle a crowd like that," said Mike. "The only +thing is we must get into the same dormitory." + +"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?" + +"Five--there's one with three beds in it, only it belongs to three +chaps." + +"I believe in the equal distribution of property. We will go to +Comrade Outwood and stake out another claim." + +Mr. Outwood received them even more beamingly than before. "Yes, +Smith?" he said. + +"We must apologise for disturbing you, sir----" + +"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." + +"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." + +"You make friends easily, Smith. I like to see it--I like to see it." + +"And we can have the room, sir?" + +"Certainly--certainly! Tell the matron as you go down." + +"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." + +"You _are_ a chap!" said Jellicoe. + +The handle began to revolve again. + +"That door," said Psmith, "is getting a perfect incubus! It cuts into +one's leisure cruelly." + +This time it was a small boy. "They told me to come up and tell you to +come down," he said. + +Psmith looked at him searchingly through his eyeglass. + +"Who?" + +"The senior day-room chaps." + +"Spiller?" + +"Spiller and Robinson and Stone, and some other chaps." + +"They want us to speak to them?" + +"They told me to come up and tell you to come down." + +"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?" + +Spiller advanced into the study; the others waited outside, crowding +in the doorway. + +"Look here," said Spiller, "are you going to clear out of here or +not?" + +"After Mr. Outwood's kindly thought in giving us the room? You suggest +a black and ungrateful action, Comrade Spiller." + +"You'll get it hot, if you don't." + +"We'll risk it," said Mike. + +Jellicoe giggled in the background; the drama in the atmosphere +appealed to him. His was a simple and appreciative mind. + +"Come on, you chaps," cried Spiller suddenly. + +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. + +"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." + +A heavy body crashed against the door. + +"They'll have it down," said Jellicoe. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Robinson. I say, you _are_ a chap!" + +"Robinson, was it? Well, we are always glad to see Comrade Robinson, +always. I wonder if anybody else is thinking of calling?" + +Apparently frontal attack had been abandoned. Whisperings could be +heard in the corridor. + +Somebody hammered on the door. + +"Yes?" called Psmith patiently. + +"You'd better come out, you know; you'll only get it hotter if you +don't." + +"Leave us, Spiller; we would be alone." + +A bell rang in the distance. + +"Tea," said Jellicoe; "we shall have to go now." + +"They won't do anything till after tea, I shouldn't think," said Mike. +"There's no harm in going out." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +"Shall we go down to the senior day-room, and have it out?" said Mike. + +"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?" + +"I think that's sound," said Mike. "We needn't drag Jellicoe into it." + +"As a matter of fact--if you don't mind--" began that man of peace. + +"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 _chalet_ 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, _ne pas_. 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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS + + +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. + +"And touching," said Psmith, "the matter of noise, must this business +be conducted in a subdued and _sotto voce_ manner, or may we let +ourselves go a bit here and there?" + +"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." + +"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!" + +"All the better," said Mike; "we don't want anybody butting in and +stopping the show before it's half started." + +"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?" + +"Barnes might," said Jellicoe, "only he won't." + +"Who is Barnes?" + +"Head of the house--a rotter. He's in a funk of Stone and Robinson; +they rag him; he'll simply sit tight." + +"Then I think," said Psmith placidly, "we may look forward to a very +pleasant evening. Shall we be moving?" + +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. + +"How about that door?" said Mike. "Shall we leave it open for them?" + +"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----" + +"I tell you what," said Mike, "how about tying a string at the top of +the steps?" + +"Yes, Napoleon would have done that, too. Hats off to Comrade Jackson, +the man with the big brain!" + +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. + +"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." + +"If they've got a candle----" + +"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!" + +"Right ho!" said Mike. + +"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." + +"You _are_ a chap!" said Jellicoe. + +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. + +There was a creaking sound. + +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. + +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---- + +CRASH! + +And at that point the proceedings may be said to have formally opened. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: PSMITH SEIZED AND EMPTIED JELLICOE'S JUG OVER SPILLER] + +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. + +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. + +"Hold the door for a second," cried Psmith, and vanished. Mike was +alone in the doorway. + +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. + +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. + +Stone drew back, and there was another interval for rest and +reflection. + +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. + +"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." + +The door closed behind Mike and himself. For ten minutes shufflings +and whisperings went on in the corridor, but nobody touched the +handle. + +Then there was a sound of retreating footsteps, and silence reigned. + +On the following morning there was a notice on the house-board. It +ran: + + 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +ADAIR + + +On the same morning Mike met Adair for the first time. + +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. + +"That's Adair," said Jellicoe, "in the middle." + +His voice had assumed a tone almost of awe. + +"Who's Adair?" asked Mike. + +"Captain of cricket, and lots of other things." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Briefly, he was a worker. He had heart. + +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. + +All it wanted now was opportunity. + +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 _likes_ 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. + +Adair was the exception. + +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. + +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 _the_ schools, and to be an +Old Sedleighan should be a badge passing its owner everywhere. + +"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!" + +"Sort of little tin god," said Mike, taking a violent dislike to Adair +from that moment. + +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. + +"'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 _had_ 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." + +"Both you chaps play cricket, I suppose?" + +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. + +"Haven't you _ever_ played?" + +"My little sister and I sometimes play with a soft ball at home." + +Adair looked sharply at him. A temper was evidently one of his +numerous qualities. + +"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." + +"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." + +Adair's jaw grew squarer than ever. Mike was wearing a gloomy scowl. + +Psmith joined suavely in the dialogue. + +"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." + +"Then you won't play?" + +"No," said Mike. + +"Archaeology," said Psmith, with a deprecatory wave of the hand, "will +brook no divided allegiance from her devotees." + +Adair turned, and walked on. + +Scarcely had he gone, when another voice hailed them with precisely +the same question. + +"Both you fellows are going to play cricket, eh?" + +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. + +"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." + +"We are, sir," said Psmith, with fervour. + +"Excellent." + +"On archaeology." + +Mr. Downing--for it was no less a celebrity--started, as one who +perceives a loathly caterpillar in his salad. + +"Archaeology!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"I never loaf, sir," said Psmith. + +"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." + +"A very wild lot, sir, I fear, the Archaeological Society here," +sighed Psmith, shaking his head. + +"If you choose to waste your time, I suppose I can't hinder you. But +in my opinion it is foolery, nothing else." + +He stumped off. + +"Now _he's_ cross," said Psmith, looking after him. "I'm afraid +we're getting ourselves disliked here." + +"Good job, too." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION + + +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 _v._ 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 _will_ 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." + +But every time he shrank from such a climb down. It couldn't be done. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +There were other exponents of the game, mostly in Downing's house. + +Altogether, quite worthy colleagues even for a man who had been a star +at Wrykyn. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Mike, as he sat there watching, could stand it no longer. + +He went up to Adair. + +"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. + +Adair was taking off his pads after his innings. He looked up. "This +net," it may be observed, was the first eleven net. + +"What?" he said. + +Mike repeated his request. More abruptly this time, from increased +embarrassment. + +"This is the first eleven net," said Adair coldly. "Go in after Lodge +over there." + +"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. + +Mike walked away without a word. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +He seemed to be consumed by a thirst for knowledge. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +Looking back, they saw that the archaeologists were still hard at it. +Their departure had passed unnoticed. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +He had not gone many yards when a dog emerged suddenly from the +undergrowth, and began to bark vigorously at him. + +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. + +He was too late. + +"Stop! What the dickens are you doing here?" shouted a voice behind +him. + +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. + +"I'm sorry if I'm trespassing," he said. "I was just having a look +round." + +"The dickens you--Why, you're Jackson!" + +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. + +"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." + +"I'm frightfully sorry." + +"That's all right. Where do you spring from?" + +"Of course--I remember you now. You're Prendergast. You made +fifty-eight not out." + +"Thanks. I was afraid the only thing you would remember about me was +that you took a century mostly off my bowling." + +"You ought to have had me second ball, only cover dropped it." + +"Don't rake up forgotten tragedies. How is it you're not at Wrykyn? +What are you doing down here?" + +"I've left Wrykyn." + +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. + +"I hang out down here. I do a little farming and a good deal of +pottering about." + +"Get any cricket?" asked Mike, turning to the subject next his heart. + +"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?" + +Mike's heart leaped. + +"Any Wednesday or Saturday. Look here, I'll tell you how it is." + +And he told how matters stood with him. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Rather. I suppose you can fix me up with a bat and pads? I don't want +to bring mine." + +"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." + +"I'll play on a rockery, if you want me to," said Mike. + + * * * * * + +"You're going to what?" asked Psmith, sleepily, on being awakened and +told the news. + +"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." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The weekly meetings were always full of life and excitement. + +At this point it is as well to introduce Sammy to the reader. + +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. + +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. + +In passing, Jellicoe owned a clock-work rat, much in request during +French lessons. + +We will now proceed to the painful details. + + * * * * * + +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. + +To-day they were in very fair form. + +As soon as Mr. Downing had closed the minute-book, Wilson, of the +School House, held up his hand. + +"Well, Wilson?" + +"Please, sir, couldn't we have a uniform for the Brigade?" + +"A uniform?" Mr. Downing pondered + +"Red, with green stripes, sir," + +Red, with a thin green stripe, was the Sedleigh colour. + +"Shall I put it to the vote, sir?" asked Stone. + +"One moment, Stone." + +"Those in favour of the motion move to the left, those against it to +the right." + +A scuffling of feet, a slamming of desk-lids and an upset blackboard, +and the meeting had divided. + +Mr. Downing rapped irritably on his desk. + +"Sit down!" he said, "sit down! I won't have this noise and +disturbance. Stone, sit down--Wilson, get back to your place." + +"Please, sir, the motion is carried by twenty-five votes to six." + +"Please, sir, may I go and get measured this evening?" + +"Please, sir----" + +"Si-_lence_! The idea of a uniform is, of course, out of the +question." + +"Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!" + +"Be _quiet!_ 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?" + +"Please, sir, may we have helmets?" + +"Very useful as a protection against falling timbers, sir," said +Robinson. + +"I don't think my people would be pleased, sir, if they knew I was +going out to fires without a helmet," said Stone. + +The whole strength of the company: "Please, sir, may we have helmets?" + +"Those in favour--" began Stone. + +Mr. Downing banged on his desk. "Silence! Silence!! Silence!!! Helmets +are, of course, perfectly preposterous." + +"Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!" + +"But, sir, the danger!" + +"Please, sir, the falling timbers!" + +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. + +"Silence!" + +"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." + +Mr. Downing smiled a wry smile. + +"Our Wilson is facetious," he remarked frostily. + +"Sir, no, sir! I wasn't facetious! Or couldn't we have footer-tops, +like the first fifteen have? They----" + +"Wilson, leave the room!" + +"Sir, _please_, sir!" + +"This moment, Wilson. And," as he reached the door, "do me one hundred +lines." + +A pained "OO-oo-oo, sir-r-r," was cut off by the closing door. + +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?" + +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. + +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. + +"May I fetch a book from my desk, sir?" asked Mike. + +"Very well--be quick, Jackson; we are busy." + +Being interrupted in one of his addresses to the Brigade irritated Mr. +Downing. + +The muffled cries grew more distinct. + +"What--is--that--noise?" shrilled Mr. Downing. + +"Noise, sir?" asked Mike, puzzled. + +"I think it's something outside the window, sir," said Stone +helpfully. + +"A bird, I think, sir," said Robinson. + +"Don't be absurd!" snapped Mr. Downing. "It's outside the door. +Wilson!" + +"Yes, sir?" said a voice "off." + +"Are you making that whining noise?" + +"Whining noise, sir? No, sir, I'm not making a whining noise." + +"What _sort_ 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. + +"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." + +"They are mowing the cricket field, sir," said the invisible Wilson. +"Perhaps that's it." + +"It may be one of the desks squeaking, sir," put in Stone. "They do +sometimes." + +"Or somebody's boots, sir," added Robinson. + +"Silence! Wilson?" + +"Yes, sir?" bellowed the unseen one. + +"Don't shout at me from the corridor like that. Come in." + +"Yes, sir!" + +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. + +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. + +Chaos reigned. + +"A rat!" shouted Robinson. + +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. + +Sammy had by this time disposed of the clock-work rat, and was now +standing, like Marius, among the ruins barking triumphantly. + +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. + +Mr. Downing shot out orders, threats, and penalties with the rapidity +of a Maxim gun. + +"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. _Quietly_, I said, Durand! Don't +shuffle your feet in that abominable way." + +Crash! + +"Wolferstan, I distinctly saw you upset that black-board with a +movement of your hand--one hundred lines. Go quietly from the room, +everybody." + +The meeting dispersed. + +"Jackson and Wilson, come here. What's the meaning of this disgraceful +conduct? Put that dog out of the room, Jackson." + +Mike removed the yelling Sammy and shut the door on him. + +"Well, Wilson?" + +"Please, sir, I was playing with a clock-work rat----" + +"What business have you to be playing with clock-work rats?" + +"Then I remembered," said Mike, "that I had left my Horace in my desk, +so I came in----" + +"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." + +"I met Sammy on the gravel outside and he followed me." + +"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." + +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. + +Mr. Downing allowed these facts to influence him in passing sentence. + +"One hundred lines, Wilson," he said. "You may go." + +Wilson departed with the air of a man who has had a great deal of fun, +and paid very little for it. + +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." + +And Mr. Downing walked out of the room. In affairs of this kind a +master has a habit of getting the last word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT + + +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. + +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. + +"What on earth for?" asked Mike. + +"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." + +"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." + +Jellicoe was profuse in his thanks, and disappeared in a cloud of +gratitude. + +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. + +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.) + +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. + +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. + +But the motives of the expedition were obviously friendly. Stone +beamed. Robinson was laughing. + +"You're a sportsman," said Robinson. + +"What did he give you?" asked Stone. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As for Mike, he now found them pleasant company, and began to get out +the tea-things. + +"Those Fire Brigade meetings," said Stone, "are a rag. You can do what +you like, and you never get more than a hundred lines." + +"Don't you!" said Mike. "I got Saturday afternoon." + +"What!" + +"Is Wilson in too?" + +"No. He got a hundred lines." + +Stone and Robinson were quite concerned. + +"What a beastly swindle!" + +"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." + +"'We are, above all, a keen school,'" quoted Stone. "Don't you ever +play?" + +"I have played a bit," said Mike. + +"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?" + +"I was at Wrykyn." + +"Why on earth did you leave?" asked Stone. "Were you sacked?" + +"No. My pater took me away." + +"Wrykyn?" said Robinson. "Are you any relation of the Jacksons +there--J. W. and the others?" + +"Brother." + +"What!" + +"Well, didn't you play at all there?" + +"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." + +There was a profound and gratifying sensation. Stone gaped, and +Robinson nearly dropped his tea-cup. + +Stone broke the silence. + +"But I mean to say--look here! What I mean is, why aren't you playing? +Why don't you play now?" + +"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." + +"But why not for the school?" + +"Why should I? It's much better fun for the village. You don't get +ordered about by Adair, for a start." + +"Adair sticks on side," said Stone. + +"Enough for six," agreed Robinson. + +"By Jove," said Stone, "I've got an idea. My word, what a rag!" + +"What's wrong now?" inquired Mike politely. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Bat. Why?" + +Robinson rocked on the table. + +"Why, old Downing fancies himself as a bowler. You _must_ play, +and knock the cover off him." + +"Masters don't play in house matches, surely?" + +"This isn't a real house match. Only a friendly. Downing always turns +out on Mid-term Service day. I say, do play." + +"Think of the rag." + +"But the team's full," said Mike. + +"The list isn't up yet. We'll nip across to Barnes' study, and make +him alter it." + +They dashed out of the room. From down the passage Mike heard yells of +"_Barnes_!" the closing of a door, and a murmur of excited +conversation. Then footsteps returning down the passage. + +Barnes appeared, on his face the look of one who has seen visions. + +"I say," he said, "is it true? Or is Stone rotting? About Wrykyn, I +mean." + +"Yes, I was in the team." + +Barnes was an enthusiastic cricketer. He studied his _Wisden_, +and he had an immense respect for Wrykyn cricket. + +"Are you the M. Jackson, then, who had an average of fifty-one point +nought three last year?" + +[Illustration: "ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON, THEN, WHO HAD AN AVERAGE OF +FIFTY-ONE POINT NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?"] + +"Yes." + +Barnes's manner became like that of a curate talking to a bishop. + +"I say," he said, "then--er--will you play against Downing's to-morrow?" + +"Rather," said Mike. "Thanks awfully. Have some tea?" + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S + + +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. + +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 +(_a_) the school is above all a keen school, (_b_) that all +members of it should play cricket, and (_c_) 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. + +Mr. Downing assumed it. + +He was walking to the field with Adair and another member of his team +when he came upon Mike. + +"What!" he cried. "Our Jackson clad in suit of mail and armed for the +fray!" + +This was Mr. Downing's No. 2 manner--the playful. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Indeed, Smith? You are not playing yourself, I notice. Your +enthusiasm has bounds." + +"In our house, sir, competition is fierce, and the Selection Committee +unfortunately passed me over." + + * * * * * + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The first over was a maiden, six dangerous balls beautifully played. +The fieldsmen changed over. + +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. + +Off the first ball of the master's over a leg-bye was run. + +Mike took guard. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This time the hope was fulfilled. + +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. + +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. + +"Get to them, Jenkins," said Mr. Downing irritably, as the ball came +back from the boundary. "Get to them." + +"Sir, please, sir----" + +"Don't talk in the field, Jenkins." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When a slow bowler starts to bowl fast, it is usually as well to be +batting, if you can manage it. + +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. + +And a shrill small voice, from the neighbourhood of the pavilion, +uttered with painful distinctness the words, "Take him off!" + +That was how the most sensational day's cricket began that Sedleigh +had known. + +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. + +Mike had then made a hundred and three. + + * * * * * + +As Mike was taking off his pads in the pavilion, Adair came up. + +"Why did you say you didn't play cricket?" he asked abruptly. + +[Illustration: "WHY DID YOU SAY YOU DIDN'T PLAY CRICKET?" HE ASKED] + +When one has been bowling the whole morning, and bowling well, without +the slightest success, one is inclined to be abrupt. + +Mike finished unfastening an obstinate strap. Then he looked up. + +"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." + +Adair was silent for a moment. + +"Will you play for us against the Old Sedleighans to-morrow?" he said +at length. + +Mike tossed his pads into his bag and got up. + +"No, thanks." + +There was a silence. + +"Above it, I suppose?" + +"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." + +There was another pause. + +"Then you won't play?" asked Adair. + +"I'm not keeping you, am I?" said Mike, politely. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Declare!" said Robinson. "Great Scott, what on earth are you talking +about?" + +"Declare!" Stone's voice was almost a wail of indignation. "I never +saw such a chump." + +"They'll be rather sick if we don't, won't they?" suggested Barnes. + +"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." + +"So do I," said Robinson. + +"If you declare, I swear I won't field. Nor will Robinson." + +"Rather not." + +"Well, I won't then," said Barnes unhappily. "Only you know they're +rather sick already." + +"Don't you worry about that," said Stone with a wide grin. "They'll be +a lot sicker before we've finished." + +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. + +These are the things which mark epochs. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_our_ 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.) + +A grey dismay settled on the field. + +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. + +Mike's pace had become slower, as was only natural, but his score, +too, was mounting steadily. + +"This is foolery," snapped Mr. Downing, as the three hundred and fifty +went up on the board. "Barnes!" he called. + +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. + +"Barnes!" + +"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." + +"This is absurd. You must declare your innings closed. The game has +become a farce." + +"Declare! Sir, we can't unless Barnes does. He might be awfully +annoyed if we did anything like that without consulting him." + +"Absurd." + +"He's very touchy, sir." + +"It is perfect foolery." + +"I think Jenkins is just going to bowl, sir." + +Mr. Downing walked moodily to his place. + + * * * * * + +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: + + OUTWOOD'S _v_. DOWNING'S + + _Outwood's. First innings._ + + J. P. Barnes, _c_. Hammond, _b_. Hassall... 33 + M. Jackson, not out........................ 277 + W. J. Stone, not out....................... 124 + Extras............................... 37 + ----- + Total (for one wicket)...... 471 + + Downing's did not bat. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF JELLICOE + + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I don't care," murmured Mike, shifting his aching limbs in the chair. + +"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." + +"He doesn't deserve to." + +Psmith smoothed his hair at the glass and turned round again. + +"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." + +This interested Mike, fagged as he was. + +"What! Three quid!" + +"Three jingling, clinking sovereigns. He wanted four." + +"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 _me_!" + +"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." + +"I got some from my brother at Oxford." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Are you asleep, Jackson?" + +"Who's that?" + +"Me--Jellicoe. I can't get to sleep." + +"Nor can I. I'm stiff all over." + +"I'll come over and sit on your bed." + +There was a creaking, and then a weight descended in the neighbourhood +of Mike's toes. + +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. + +"I say, Jackson!" he said. + +"Yes?" + +"Have you--oh, nothing." + +Silence again. + +"Jackson." + +"Hullo?" + +"I say, what would your people say if you got sacked?" + +"All sorts of things. Especially my pater. Why?" + +"Oh, I don't know. So would mine." + +"Everybody's would, I expect." + +"Yes." + +The bed creaked, as Jellicoe digested these great thoughts. Then he +spoke again. + +"It would be a jolly beastly thing to get sacked." + +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. + +"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!'" + +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. + +"Hullo?" he said. "What's up?" + +"Then you'd say. 'Hullo!' And then they'd say, 'What are you doing +here? 'And you'd say----" + +"What on earth are you talking about?" + +"About what would happen." + +"Happen when?" + +"When you got home. After being sacked, you know." + +"Who's been sacked?" Mike's mind was still under a cloud. + +"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." + +Mike dozed off again. + +"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!" + +"Hullo! What's the matter? Who's that?" + +"Me--Jellicoe." + +"What's up?" + +"I asked you if you'd got any sisters." + +"Any _what_?" + +"Sisters." + +"Whose sisters?" + +"Yours. I asked if you'd got any." + +"Any what?" + +"Sisters." + +"What about them?" + +The conversation was becoming too intricate for Jellicoe. He changed +the subject. + +"I say, Jackson!" + +"Well?" + +"I say, you don't know any one who could lend me a pound, do you?" + +"What!" cried Mike, sitting up in bed and staring through the darkness +in the direction whence the numismatist's voice was proceeding. "Do +_what_?" + +"I say, look out. You'll wake Smith." + +"Did you say you wanted some one to lend you a quid?" + +"Yes," said Jellicoe eagerly. "Do you know any one?" + +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? + +"What on earth do you want a pound for?" + +"I don't want to tell anybody. But it's jolly serious. I shall get +sacked if I don't get it." + +Mike pondered. + +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. + +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. + +Bob's postal order, which had arrived that evening, was reposing in +the breast-pocket of his coat. + +It was a wrench, but, if the situation was so serious with Jellicoe, +it had to be done. + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK-LIST + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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 _will_ have silence--you must hang back in order to +make a more effective entrance, like some wretched actor who--I will +_not_ have this shuffling. I have spoken of this before. Macpherson, +are you shuffling your feet?" + +"Sir, no, sir." + +"Please, sir." + +"Well, Parsons?" + +"I think it's the noise of the draught under the door, sir." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +It was through one of these batsmen that an accident occurred which +had a good deal of influence on Mike's affairs. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +When "Heads!" was called on the present occasion, Mike and Jellicoe +instantly assumed the crouching attitude. + +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. + +The bright-blazered youth walked up. + +"Awfully sorry, you know, man. Hurt?" + +Jellicoe was pressing the injured spot tenderly with his finger-tips, +uttering sharp howls whenever, zeal outrunning discretion, he prodded +himself too energetically. + +"Silly ass, Dunster," he groaned, "slamming about like that." + +"Awfully sorry. But I did yell." + +"It's swelling up rather," said Mike. "You'd better get over to the +house and have it looked at. Can you walk?" + +Jellicoe tried, but sat down again with a loud "Ow!" At that moment +the bell rang. + +"I shall have to be going in," said Mike, "or I'd have helped you +over." + +"I'll give you a hand," said Dunster. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION + + +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. + +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. + +Before he got there he heard his name called, and turning, found +Psmith seated under a tree with the bright-blazered Dunster. + +"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. + +"Is your name Jackson?" inquired Dunster, "because Jellicoe wants to +see you." + +"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." + +"Old Smith and I," said Dunster, "were at a private school together. +I'd no idea I should find him here." + +"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." + +"You still jaw as much as ever, I notice," said the animal delineator, +fondling the beginnings of his moustache. + +"More," sighed Psmith, "more. Is anything irritating you?" he added, +eyeing the other's manoeuvres with interest. + +"You needn't be a funny ass, man," said Dunster, pained; "heaps of +people tell me I ought to have it waxed." + +"What it really wants is top-dressing with guano. Hullo! another man +out. Adair's bowling better to-day than he did yesterday." + +"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." + +"Comrade Dunster went out to it first ball," said Psmith to Mike. + +"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." + +"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." + +"What was it Jellicoe wanted?" asked Mike; "was it anything +important?" + +"He seemed to think so--he kept telling me to tell you to go and see +him." + +"I fear Comrade Jellicoe is a bit of a weak-minded blitherer----" + +"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." + +"I shall count the minutes," said Psmith. + +Mike stretched himself; the sun was very soothing after his two hours +in the detention-room; he felt disinclined for exertion. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mike tilted his hat over his eyes and abandoned Jellicoe. + +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. + +Mike found him in a condition bordering on collapse. + +"I say, you might have come before!" said Jellicoe. + +"What's up? I didn't know there was such a hurry about it--what did +you want?" + +"It's no good now," said Jellicoe gloomily; "it's too late, I shall +get sacked." + +"What on earth are you talking about? What's the row?" + +"It's about that money." + +"What about it?" + +"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!" + +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." + +"It doesn't matter," said Jellicoe miserably; "it can't be helped." + +"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." + +Jellicoe sat up. "You can't! You'd get sacked if you were caught." + +"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." + +The toad-under-the-harrow expression began to fade from Jellicoe's +face. "I say, do you think you could, really?" + +"Of course I can! It'll be rather a rag." + +"I say, it's frightfully decent of you." + +"What absolute rot!" + +"But, look here, are you certain----" + +"I shall be all right. Where do you want me to go?" + +"It's a place about a mile or two from here, called Lower Borlock." + +"Lower Borlock?" + +"Yes, do you know it?" + +"Rather! I've been playing cricket for them all the term." + +"I say, have you? Do you know a man called Barley?" + +"Barley? Rather--he runs the 'White Boar'." + +"He's the chap I owe the money to." + +"Old Barley!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I shall bike there, I think," he said, "if I can get into the shed." + +The school's bicycles were stored in a shed by the pavilion. + +"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." + +"Got it on you?" + +"Smith's got it." + +"I'll get it from him." + +"I say!" + +"Well?" + +"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." + +"All right, I won't tell him." + +"I say, thanks most awfully! I don't know what I should have done, +I----" + +"Oh, chuck it!" said Mike. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +AND FULFILS IT + + +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. + +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. + +So Mike pedalled along rapidly, being wishful to get the job done +without delay. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +The place was shut, of course, and all the lights were out--it was +some time past eleven. + +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. + +After Mike had waited for a few minutes there was a rattling of chains +and a shooting of bolts and the door opened. + +"Yes, sir?" said the boots, appearing in his shirt-sleeves. "Why, +'ullo! Mr. Jackson, sir!" + +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. + +"I want to see Mr. Barley, Jack." + +"He's bin in bed this half-hour back, Mr. Jackson." + +"I must see him. Can you get him down?" + +The boots looked doubtful. "Roust the guv'nor outer bed?" he said. + +Mike quite admitted the gravity of the task. The landlord of the +"White Boar" was one of those men who need a beauty sleep. + +"I wish you would--it's a thing that can't wait. I've got some money +to give to him." + +"Oh, if it's _that_--" said the boots. + +Five minutes later mine host appeared in person, looking more than +usually portly in a check dressing-gown and red bedroom slippers of +the _Dreadnought_ type. + +"You can pop off, Jack." + +Exit boots to his slumbers once more. + +"Well, Mr. Jackson, what's it all about?" + +"Jellicoe asked me to come and bring you the money." + +"The money? What money?" + +"What he owes you; the five pounds, of course." + +"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. + +"Oh dear!" he said, "oh dear! the five pounds!" + +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. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"Five pounds!" + +"You might tell us the joke." + +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. + +"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----" + +Mike was reading the letter. + + "DEAR MR. BARLEY," it ran.--"I send the L5, 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." + +There was some more to the same effect; it was signed "T. G. +Jellicoe." + +"What on earth's it all about?" said Mike, finishing this curious +document. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He proceeded to scale this water-pipe. + +He had got about half-way up when a voice from somewhere below cried, +"Who's that?" + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +PURSUIT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Oo-oo-oo yer!" was the exact remark. + +Whereby Mike recognised him as the school sergeant. + +"Oo-oo-oo yer!" was that militant gentleman's habitual way of +beginning a conversation. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Then the sound of footsteps returning, this time at a walk. They +passed the gate and went on down the road. + +The pursuer had given the thing up. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The other appeared startled. + +"Who the dickens is that?" he asked. "Is that you, Jackson?" + +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. + +"What are you doing out here, Jackson?" + +"What are you, if it comes to that?" + +Adair was lighting his lamp. + +"I'm going for the doctor. One of the chaps in our house is bad." + +"Oh!" + +"What are you doing out here?" + +"Just been for a stroll." + +"Hadn't you better be getting back?" + +"Plenty of time." + +"I suppose you think you're doing something tremendously brave and +dashing?" + +"Hadn't you better be going to the doctor?" + +"If you want to know what I think----" + +"I don't. So long." + +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. + +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. + +He walked in that direction. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was this. + +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 dais--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. + +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. + +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. + +So Mr. Downing had had to be content with day drill. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Probably nobody has ever crammed more energetic work into four seconds +than he did then. + +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. + +And from the darkened house beyond there came a gradually swelling +hum, as if a vast hive of bees had been disturbed. + +The school was awake. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +THE DECORATION OF SAMMY + + +Smith 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. + +"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?" + +"I wonder who rang that bell!" said Stone. "Jolly sporting idea." + +"I believe it was Downing himself. If it was, I hope he's satisfied." + +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. + +"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." + +"I was in a beastly funk, I can tell you." + +Stone gurgled. + +"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." + +"I rushed into Downing's, and ragged some of the beds," said Robinson. + +"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----" + +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. + +"I say, have you chaps seen Sammy?" + +"Seen who?" said Stone. "Sammy? Why?" + +"You'll know in a second. He's just outside. Here, Sammy, Sammy, +Sammy! Sam! Sam!" + +A bark and a patter of feet outside. + +"Come on, Sammy. Good dog." + +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. + +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. + +"Good old Sammy!" + +"What on earth's been happening to him?" + +"Who did it?" + +Sharpe, the introducer, had no views on the matter. + +"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!" + +Mike was the first to show any sympathy for the maltreated animal. + +"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." + +"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." + +"There'll be a row about this," said Stone. + +"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." + +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. + +"I say," said Jellicoe, "I just wanted to thank you again about +that----" + +"Oh, that's all right." + +"No, but it really was awfully decent of you. You might have got into +a frightful row. Were you nearly caught?" + +"Jolly nearly." + +"It _was_ you who rang the bell, wasn't it?" + +"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." + +"All right. But, I say, you _are_ a chap!" + +"What's the matter now?" + +"I mean about Sammy, you know. It's a jolly good score off old +Downing. He'll be frightfully sick." + +"Sammy!" cried Mike. "My good man, you don't think I did that, do you? +What absolute rot! I never touched the poor brute." + +"Oh, all right," said Jellicoe. "But I wasn't going to tell any one, +of course." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You _are_ a chap!" giggled Jellicoe. + +Mike walked to chapel rather thoughtfully. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + +MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT + + +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. + +Then the happy laughter of the young onlookers reassured him. + +"Who--" he shouted, "WHO has done this?" + +[Illustration: "WHO--" HE SHOUTED, "WHO HAS DONE THIS?"] + +"Please, sir, we don't know," shrilled the chorus. + +"Please, sir, he came in like that." + +"Please, sir, we were sitting here when he suddenly ran in, all red." + +A voice from the crowd: "Look at old Sammy!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Dear me!" he said, deeply interested. "One of the boys at the school, +you think?" + +"I am certain of it," said Mr. Downing. + +"Was he wearing a school cap?" + +"He was bare-headed. A boy who breaks out of his house at night would +hardly run the risk of wearing a distinguishing cap." + +"No, no, I suppose not. A big boy, you say?" + +"Very big." + +"You did not see his face?" + +"It was dark and he never looked back--he was in front of me all the +time." + +"Dear me!" + +"There is another matter----" + +"Yes?" + +"This boy, whoever he was, had done something before he rang the +bell--he had painted my dog Sampson red." + +The headmaster's eyes protruded from their sockets. "He--he--_what_, +Mr. Downing?" + +"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. + +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. + +"It is a scandalous thing!" said Mr. Downing. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _via_ 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 _a propos_ +of some reflections on the subject of burglars in mediaeval England, +and passed it on to Mr. Downing as they walked back to lunch. + +"Then the boy was in your house!" exclaimed Mr. Downing. + +"Not actually in, as far as I understand. I gather from the sergeant +that he interrupted him before----" + +"I mean he must have been one of the boys in your house." + +"But what was he doing out at that hour?" + +"He had broken out." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Regardless of the claims of digestion, he rushed forth on the trail. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Having requested his host to smoke, which the latter was about to do +unasked, Mr. Downing stated his case. + +"Mr. Outwood," he said, "tells me that last night, sergeant, you saw a +boy endeavouring to enter his house." + +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'.'" + +"What did you do?" + +"Do? Oo-oo-oo! I shouts 'Oo-oo-oo yer, yer young monkey, what yer +doin' there?'" + +"Yes?" + +"But 'e was off in a flash, and I doubles after 'im prompt." + +"But you didn't catch him?" + +"No, sir," admitted the sergeant reluctantly. + +"Did you catch sight of his face, sergeant?" + +"No, sir, 'e was doublin' away in the opposite direction." + +"Did you notice anything at all about his appearance?" + +"'E was a long young chap, sir, with a pair of legs on him--feeflee +fast 'e run, sir. Oo-oo-oo, feeflee!" + +"You noticed nothing else?" + +"'E wasn't wearing no cap of any sort, sir." + +"Ah!" + +"Bare-'eaded, sir," added the sergeant, rubbing the point in. + +"It was undoubtedly the same boy, undoubtedly! I wish you could have +caught a glimpse of his face, sergeant." + +"So do I, sir." + +"You would not be able to recognise him again if you saw him, you +think?" + +"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." + +Mr. Downing rose to go. + +"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." + +"Young monkeys!" interjected the sergeant helpfully. + +"Good-afternoon, sergeant." + +"Good-afternoon to you, sir." + +"Pray do not move, sergeant." + +The sergeant had not shown the slightest inclination of doing anything +of the kind. + +"I will find my way out. Very hot to-day, is it not?" + +"Feeflee warm, sir; weather's goin' to break--workin' up for thunder." + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + +THE SLEUTH-HOUND + + +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. + +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: + +"My dear Holmes, how--?" and all the rest of it, just as the +downtrodden medico did. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +All these things passed through Mr. Downing's mind as he walked up and +down the cricket field that afternoon. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Your bicycle?" snapped Mr. Downing. Much thinking had made him +irritable. "What do you want with your bicycle?" + +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. + +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. + +He felt for his bunch of keys, and made his way to the shed, Riglett +shambling behind at an interval of two yards. + +Mr. Downing unlocked the door, and there on the floor was the Clue! + +A clue that even Dr. Watson could not have overlooked. + +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. + +"Pah!" said Mr. Downing. + +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! + +Riglett, who had been waiting patiently two yards away, now coughed +plaintively. The sound recalled Mr. Downing to mundane matters. + +"Get your bicycle, Riglett," he said, "and be careful where you tread. +Somebody has upset a pot of paint on the floor." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Yoicks! + +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. + +_Note one_: Interview the ground-man on this point. + +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. + +_Note two_ Interview Adair as to whether he found, on returning to +the house, that there was paint on his boots. + +Things were moving. + + * * * * * + +He resolved to take Adair first. He could get the ground-man's address +from him. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Paint, sir?" Adair was plainly puzzled. His book had been +interesting, and had driven the Sammy incident out of his head. + +"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?" + +"No, sir." + +"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?" + +"No, sir, my bicycle is always quite near the door of the shed. I +didn't go into the shed at all." + +"I see. Quite so. Thank you, Adair. Oh, by the way, Adair, where does +Markby live?" + +"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." + +"Thank you. I shall be able to find them. I should like to speak to +Markby for a moment on a small matter." + +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. + +"Oh, Markby!" + +"Sir?" + +"You remember that you were painting the scoring-box in the pavilion +last night after the match?" + +"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." + +"Just so. An excellent idea. Tell me, Markby, what did you do with the +pot of paint when you had finished?" + +"Put it in the bicycle shed, sir." + +"On the floor?" + +"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." + +"Of course, yes. Quite so. Just as I thought." + +"Do you want it, sir?" + +"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." + +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. + +Regardless of the heat, the sleuth-hound hurried across to Outwood's +as fast as he could walk. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + +A CHECK + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +He stared after the sleuth-hound, who had just entered the house. + +"What the dickens," said Mike, "does he mean by barging in as if he'd +bought the place?" + +"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?" + +"I'll be going on. I shall be under the trees at the far end of the +ground." + +"'Tis well. I will be with you in about two ticks." + +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. + +"A warm afternoon, sir," murmured Psmith courteously, as he passed. + +"Er--Smith!" + +"Sir?" + +"I--er--wish to go round the dormitories." + +It was Psmith's guiding rule in life never to be surprised at +anything, so he merely inclined his head gracefully, and said nothing. + +"I should be glad if you would fetch the keys and show me where the +rooms are." + +"With acute pleasure, sir," said Psmith. "Or shall I fetch Mr. +Outwood, sir?" + +"Do as I tell you, Smith," snapped Mr. Downing. + +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. + +"Shall I lead the way, sir?" he asked. + +Mr. Downing nodded. + +"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----" + +He broke off abruptly and began to watch the other's manoeuvres in +silence. Mr. Downing was peering rapidly beneath each bed in turn. + +"Are you looking for Barnes, sir?" inquired Psmith politely. "I think +he's out in the field." + +Mr. Downing rose, having examined the last bed, crimson in the face +with the exercise. + +"Show me the next dormitory, Smith," he said, panting slightly. + +"This," said Psmith, opening the next door and sinking his voice to an +awed whisper, "is where _I_ sleep!" + +Mr. Downing glanced swiftly beneath the three beds. "Excuse me, sir," +said Psmith, "but are we chasing anything?" + +"Be good enough, Smith," said Mr. Downing with asperity, "to keep your +remarks to yourself." + +"I was only wondering, sir. Shall I show you the next in order?" + +"Certainly." + +They moved on up the passage. + +Drawing blank at the last dormitory, Mr. Downing paused, baffled. +Psmith waited patiently by. An idea struck the master. + +"The studies, Smith," he cried. + +"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----" + +Mr. Downing stopped short. + +"Is this impertinence studied, Smith?" + +"Ferguson's study, sir? No, sir. That's further down the passage. This +is Barnes'." + +Mr. Downing looked at him closely. Psmith's face was wooden in its +gravity. The master snorted suspiciously, then moved on. + +"Whose is this?" he asked, rapping a door. + +"This, sir, is mine and Jackson's." + +"What! Have you a study? You are low down in the school for it." + +"I think, sir, that Mr. Outwood gave it us rather as a testimonial to +our general worth than to our proficiency in school-work." + +Mr. Downing raked the room with a keen eye. The absence of bars from +the window attracted his attention. + +"Have you no bars to your windows here, such as there are in my +house?" + +"There appears to be no bar, sir," said Psmith, putting up his +eyeglass. + +Mr Downing was leaning out of the window. + +"A lovely view, is it not, sir?" said Psmith. "The trees, the field, +the distant hills----" + +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. + +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. + +"Whom did you say you shared this study with, Smith?" + +"Jackson, sir. The cricketer." + +"Never mind about his cricket, Smith," said Mr. Downing with +irritation. + +"No, sir." + +"He is the only other occupant of the room?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Nobody else comes into it?" + +"If they do, they go out extremely quickly, sir." + +"Ah! Thank you, Smith." + +"Not at all, sir." + +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! + +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. + +"Smith!" he said excitedly. + +"On the spot, sir," said Psmith affably. + +"Where are Jackson's boots?" + +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. + +"His boots, sir? He has them on. I noticed them as he went out just +now." + +"Where is the pair he wore yesterday?" + +"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." + +"Would they have been cleaned yet?" + +"If I know Edmund, sir--no." + +"Smith," said Mr. Downing, trembling with excitement, "go and bring +that basket to me here." + +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. + + * * * * * + +He staggered back with the basket, painfully conscious the while that +it was creasing his waistcoat, and dumped is down on the study floor. +Mr. Downing stooped eagerly over it. Psmith leaned against the wall, +and straightened out the damaged garment. + +"We have here, sir," he said, "a fair selection of our various +bootings." + +Mr. Downing looked up. + +"You dropped none of the boots on your way up, Smith?" + +"Not one, sir. It was a fine performance." + +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. + +At last he made a dive, and, with an exclamation of triumph, rose to +his feet. In his hand he held a boot. + +"Put those back again, Smith," he said. + +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. + +"That's the lot, sir," he said, rising. + +"Ah. Now come across with me to the headmaster's house. Leave the +basket here. You can carry it back when you return." + +"Shall I put back that boot, sir?" + +"Certainly not. I shall take this with me, of course." + +"Shall I carry it, sir?" + +Mr. Downing reflected. + +"Yes, Smith," he said. "I think it would be best." + +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. + +Psmith took the boot, and doing so, understood what before had puzzled +him. + +Across the toe of the boot was a broad splash of red paint. + +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. + +"Can you tell me whose boot that is?" asked Mr. Downing. + +Psmith looked at it again. + +"No, sir. I can't say the little chap's familiar to me." + +"Come with me, then." + +Mr. Downing left the room. After a moment Psmith followed him. + +The headmaster was in his garden. Thither Mr. Downing made his way, +the boot-bearing Psmith in close attendance. + +The Head listened to the amateur detective's statement with interest. + +"Indeed?" he said, when Mr. Downing had finished. + +"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?" + +"I have it with me. I brought it on purpose to show to you. Smith!" + +"Sir?" + +"You have the boot?" + +"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 _you_ point out to me exactly where +this paint is that you speak of?" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER L + +THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE + + +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. + +Mr. Downing was the first to break the silence. + +"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?" + +"Paint, sir!" + +"What! Do you mean to tell me that you did _not_ see it?" + +"No, sir. There was no paint on this boot." + +"This is foolery. I saw it with my own eyes. It was a broad splash +right across the toe." + +The headmaster interposed. + +"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----" + +"I had an aunt, sir," said Psmith chattily, "who was remarkably +subject----" + +"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." + +"It is undoubtedly black now, Mr. Downing." + +"A sort of chameleon boot," murmured Psmith. + +The goaded housemaster turned on him. + +"What did you say, Smith?" + +"Did I speak, sir?" said Psmith, with the start of one coming suddenly +out of a trance. + +Mr. Downing looked searchingly at him. + +"You had better be careful, Smith." + +"Yes, sir." + +"I strongly suspect you of having something to do with this." + +"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." + +"Exactly, sir," said Psmith. "My theory, if I may----?" + +"Certainly, Smith." + +Psmith bowed courteously and proceeded. + +"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----" + +"Bah!" said Mr. Downing shortly. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I am sorry that you should leave your preparation till Sunday, Smith. +It is a habit of which I altogether disapprove." + +"I am reading it, sir," said Psmith, with simple dignity, "for +pleasure. Shall I take the boot with me, sir?" + +"If Mr. Downing does not want it?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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----" + +He dragged up another chair for his feet and picked up his novel. + +He had not been reading long when there was a footstep in the passage, +and Mr. Downing appeared. + +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. + +Mr. Downing was brisk and peremptory. + +"I wish to look at these boots again," he said. Psmith, with a sigh, +laid down his novel, and rose to assist him. + +"Sit down, Smith," said the housemaster. "I can manage without your +help." + +Psmith sat down again, carefully tucking up the knees of his trousers, +and watched him with silent interest through his eyeglass. + +The scrutiny irritated Mr. Downing. + +"Put that thing away, Smith," he said. + +"That thing, sir?" + +"Yes, that ridiculous glass. Put it away." + +"Why, sir?" + +"Why! Because I tell you to do so." + +"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. + +"Don't sit there staring at me, Smith." + +"I was interested in what you were doing, sir." + +"Never mind. Don't stare at me in that idiotic way." + +"May I read, sir?" asked Psmith, patiently. + +"Yes, read if you like." + +"Thank you, sir." + +Psmith took up his book again, and Mr. Downing, now thoroughly +irritated, pursued his investigations in the boot-basket. + +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. + +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. + +Then he caught sight of the cupboard, and something seemed to tell him +that there was the place to look. + +"Smith!" he said. + +Psmith had been reading placidly all the while. + +"Yes, sir?" + +"What is in this cupboard?" + +"That cupboard, sir?" + +"Yes. This cupboard." Mr. Downing rapped the door irritably. + +"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." + +"Open it." + +"I think you will find that it is locked, sir." + +"Unlock it." + +"But where is the key, sir?" + +"Have you not got the key?" + +"If the key is not in the lock, sir, you may depend upon it that it +will take a long search to find it." + +"Where did you see it last?" + +"It was in the lock yesterday morning. Jackson might have taken it." + +"Where is Jackson?" + +"Out in the field somewhere, sir." + +Mr. Downing thought for a moment. + +"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." + +Psmith got up. + +"I'm afraid you mustn't do that, sir." + +Mr. Downing stared, amazed. + +"Are you aware whom you are talking to, Smith?" he inquired acidly. + +"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." + +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----! + +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. + +He stood chewing these thoughts for awhile, Psmith in the meantime +standing in a graceful attitude in front of the cupboard, staring into +vacancy. + +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. + +"Smith," he said, "go and find Mr. Outwood, and ask him to be good +enough to come here for a moment." + + + + +CHAPTER LI + +MAINLY ABOUT BOOTS + + +"Be quick, Smith," he said, as the latter stood looking at him without +making any movement in the direction of the door. + +"_Quick_, sir?" said Psmith meditatively, as if he had been asked +a conundrum. + +"Go and find Mr. Outwood at once." + +Psmith still made no move. + +"Do you intend to disobey me, Smith?" Mr. Downing's voice was steely. + +"Yes, sir." + +"What!" + +"Yes, sir." + +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!" + +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. + +"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----'" + +"This impertinence is doing you no good, Smith." + +Psmith waved a hand deprecatingly. + +"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 _should_ +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?" + +"Go and fetch Mr. Outwood, Smith. I shall not tell you again." + +Psmith flicked a speck of dust from his coat-sleeve. + +"Very well, Smith." + +"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." + +Mr. Downing stalked out of the room. + +"But," added Psmith pensively to himself, as the footsteps died away, +"I did not promise that it would be the same boot." + +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. + +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. + +He returned to his place at the mantelpiece. + +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. + +The bathroom was a few yards down the corridor. He went there, and +washed off the soot. + +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. + +"Where have you been, Smith?" asked Mr. Downing sharply. + +"I have been washing my hands, sir." + +"H'm!" said Mr. Downing suspiciously. + +"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." + +"My dear Outwood," snapped the sleuth, "I thought I had made it +perfectly clear. Where is the difficulty?" + +"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-_no_-sense look on the other's face," +why he should not do so if he wishes it." + +"Exactly, sir," said Psmith, approvingly. "You have touched the spot." + +"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." + +"He painted--!" said Mr. Outwood, round-eyed. "Why?" + +"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?" + +Mr. Outwood looked amazedly at Smith, and Psmith shook his head +sorrowfully at Mr. Outwood. Psmith'a expression said, as plainly as if +he had spoken the words, "We must humour him." + +"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?" + +Mr. Outwood started. + +"Objection? None at all, my dear fellow, none at all. Let me see, +_what_ is it you wish to do?" + +"This," said Mr. Downing shortly. + +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. + +Mr. Downing uttered a cry of triumph, and tore the boot from its +resting-place. + +"I told you," he said. "I told you." + +"I wondered where that boot had got to," said Psmith. "I've been +looking for it for days." + +Mr. Downing was examining his find. He looked up with an exclamation +of surprise and wrath. + +"This boot has no paint on it," he said, glaring at Psmith. "This is +not the boot." + +"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. + +"Did you place that boot there, Smith?" + +"I must have done. Then, when I lost the key----" + +"Are you satisfied now, Downing?" interrupted Mr. Outwood with +asperity, "or is there any more furniture you wish to break?" + +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. + +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. + +"Dear me," he said, "I must remember to have the chimneys swept. It +should have been done before." + +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.") + +Mr. Downing's mind at that moment contained one single thought; and +that thought was "What ho for the chimney!" + +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. + +"Ah," he said. "I thought as much. You were not quite clever enough, +after all, Smith." + +"No, sir," said Psmith patiently. "We all make mistakes." + +"You would have done better, Smith, not to have given me all this +trouble. You have done yourself no good by it." + +"It's been great fun, though, sir," argued Psmith. + +"Fun!" Mr. Downing laughed grimly. "You may have reason to change your +opinion of what constitutes----" + +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. + +"Did--you--put--that--boot--there, Smith?" he asked slowly. + +[Illustration: "DID--YOU--PUT--THAT--BOOT--THERE, SMITH?"] + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then what did you _MEAN_ by putting it there?" roared Mr. +Downing. + +"Animal spirits, sir," said Psmith. + +"WHAT!" + +"Animal spirits, sir." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Soot!" he murmured weakly. "Soot!" + +"Your face is covered, my dear fellow, quite covered." + +"It certainly has a faintly sooty aspect, sir," said Psmith. + +His voice roused the sufferer to one last flicker of spirit. + +"You will hear more of this, Smith," he said. "I say you will hear +more of it." + +Then he allowed Mr. Outwood to lead him out to a place where there +were towels, soap, and sponges. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Psmith went to the bathroom to wash his hands again, with the feeling +that he had done a good day's work. + + + + +CHAPTER LII + +ON THE TRAIL AGAIN + + +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. + +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. + +So Psmith kept his own counsel, with the result that Mike went over to +school on the Monday morning in pumps. + +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. + +"'Ere's one of 'em, Mr. Jackson," he said, as if he hoped that Mike +might be satisfied with a compromise. + +"One? What's the good of that, Edmund, you chump? I can't go over to +school in one boot." + +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." + +"Well, what am I to do? Where is the other boot?" + +"Don't know, Mr. Jackson," replied Edmund to both questions. + +"Well, I mean--Oh, dash it, there's the bell." + +And Mike sprinted off in the pumps he stood in. + +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 _have_ you got on?" Masters say, +"Jones, _what_ 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.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mike, accordingly, had not been in his place for three minutes when +Mr. Downing, stiffening like a pointer, called his name. + +"Yes, sir?" said Mike. + +"_What_ are you wearing on your feet, Jackson?" + +"Pumps, sir." + +"You are wearing pumps? Are you not aware that PUMPS are not the +proper things to come to school in? Why are you wearing _PUMPS_?" + +The form, leaning back against the next row of desks, settled itself +comfortably for the address from the throne. + +"I have lost one of my boots, sir." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When the bell rang at a quarter to eleven, he gathered up his gown, +and sped to the headmaster. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII + +THE KETTLE METHOD + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"It's all rot," said Stone. "What on earth's the good of sweating +about before breakfast? It only makes you tired." + +"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." + +"Personally," said Stone, gnawing his bun, "I don't intend to stick +it." + +"Nor do I." + +"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." + +"Yes." + +At this moment Adair came into the shop. + +"Fielding-practice again to-morrow," he said briskly, "at six." + +"Before breakfast?" said Robinson. + +"Rather. You two must buck up, you know. You were rotten to-day." And +he passed on, leaving the two malcontents speechless. + +Stone was the first to recover. + +"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." + +"Nor do I." + +"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." + +"All right," said Robinson. "Let's." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was wondering what to do in this matter of Stone and Robinson. + +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. + +He resolved to interview the absentees. + +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. + +"Sorry," said Stone. "Hullo, Adair!" + +"Don't mention it. Why weren't you two at fielding-practice this +morning?" + +Robinson, who left the lead to Stone in all matters, said nothing. +Stone spoke. + +"We didn't turn up," he said. + +"I know you didn't. Why not?" + +Stone had rehearsed this scene in his mind, and he spoke with the +coolness which comes from rehearsal. + +"We decided not to." + +"Oh?" + +"Yes. We came to the conclusion that we hadn't any use for early-morning +fielding." + +Adair's manner became ominously calm. + +"You were rather fed-up, I suppose?" + +"That's just the word." + +"Sorry it bored you." + +"It didn't. We didn't give it the chance to." + +Robinson laughed appreciatively. + +"What's the joke, Robinson?" asked Adair. + +"There's no joke," said Robinson, with some haste. "I was only +thinking of something." + +"I'll give you something else to think about soon." + +Stone intervened. + +"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?" + +"You and Jackson seem to have fixed it all up between you." + +"What are you going to do? Kick us out?" + +"No." + +"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." + +"You don't think there is? You may be right. All the same, you're +going to to-morrow morning." + +"What!" + +"Six sharp. Don't be late." + +"Don't be an ass, Adair. We've told you we aren't going to." + +"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." + +"You can turn out if you feel like it. You won't find me there." + +"That'll be a disappointment. Nor Robinson?" + +"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. + +"You've quite made up your minds?" + +"Yes," said Stone. + +"Right," said Adair quietly, and knocked him down. + +He was up again in a moment. Adair had pushed the table back, and was +standing in the middle of the open space. + +"You cad," said Stone. "I wasn't ready." + +"Well, you are now. Shall we go on?" + +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. + +He got up slowly and stood leaning with one hand on the table. + +"Suppose we say ten past six?" said Adair. "I'm not particular to a +minute or two." + +Stone made no reply. + +"Will ten past six suit you for fielding-practice to-morrow?" said +Adair. + +"All right," said Stone. + +"Thanks. How about you, Robinson?" + +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. + +"All right," he said hastily, "I'll turn up." + +"Good," said Adair. "I wonder if either of you chaps could tell me +which is Jackson's study." + +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. + +"Thanks," said Adair. "You don't happen to know if he's in, I +suppose?" + +"He went up with Smith a quarter of an hour ago. I don't know if he's +still there." + +"I'll go and see," said Adair. "I should like a word with him if he +isn't busy." + + + + +CHAPTER LIV + +ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And it was at this point, when his resentment was at its height, that +Adair, the concrete representative of everything Sedleighan, entered +the room. + +There are moments in life's placid course when there has got to be the +biggest kind of row. This was one of them. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Psmith was the first to speak. + +"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 _consomme_ 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?" + +"Thanks," said Adair. "I just wanted to speak to Jackson for a +minute." + +"Fate," said Psmith, "has led your footsteps to the right place. That +is Comrade Jackson, the Pride of the School, sitting before you." + +"What do you want?" said Mike. + +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. + +"I'll tell you in a minute. It won't take long." + +"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----" + +"Buck up," said Mike. + +"Certainly," said Adair. "I've just been talking to Stone and +Robinson." + +"An excellent way of passing an idle half-hour," said Psmith. + +"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." + +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. + +Psmith was regarding Adair through his eyeglass with pain and +surprise. + +"Surely," he said, "you do not mean us to understand that you have +been _brawling_ 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." + +Psmith turned away, and resting his elbows on the mantelpiece, gazed +at himself mournfully in the looking-glass. + +"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." + +"Stone and I had a discussion about early-morning fielding-practice," +said Adair, turning to Mike. + +Mike said nothing. + +"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." + +Mike remained silent. + +"So are you," added Adair. + +"I get thinner and thinner," said Psmith from the mantelpiece. + +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. + +"Oh?" said Mike at last. "What makes you think that?" + +"I don't think. I know." + +"Any special reason for my turning out?" + +"Yes." + +"What's that?" + +"You're going to play for the school against the M.C.C. to-morrow, and +I want you to get some practice." + +"I wonder how you got that idea!" + +"Curious I should have done, isn't it?" + +"Very. You aren't building on it much, are you?" said Mike politely. + +"I am, rather," replied Adair with equal courtesy. + +"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed." + +"I don't think so." + +"My eyes," said Psmith regretfully, "are a bit close together. +However," he added philosophically, "it's too late to alter that now." + +Mike drew a step closer to Adair. + +"What makes you think I shall play against the M.C.C.?" he asked +curiously. + +"I'm going to make you." + +Mike took another step forward. Adair moved to meet him. + +"Would you care to try now?" said Mike. + +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. + +"Get out of the light, Smith," said Mike. + +Psmith waved him back with a deprecating gesture. + +"My dear young friends," he said placidly, "if you _will_ 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." + + + + +CHAPTER LV + +CLEARING THE AIR + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He got up slowly and with difficulty. For a moment he stood blinking +vaguely. Then he lurched forward at Mike. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"_He's_ 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." + +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. + +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." + +It came upon Mike with painful clearness that he had been making an +ass of himself. + +He had come to this conclusion, after much earnest thought, when +Psmith entered the study. + +"How's Adair?" asked Mike. + +"Sitting up and taking nourishment once more. We have been chatting. +He's not a bad cove." + +"He's all right," said Mike. + +There was a pause. Psmith straightened his tie. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"Of course not," said Mike indignantly. + +"I told him he didn't know the old _noblesse oblige_ 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?" + +"I don't--What I mean to say--" began Mike. + +"If your trouble is," said Psmith, "that you fear that you may be in +unworthy company----" + +"Don't be an ass." + +"----Dismiss it. _I_ am playing." + +Mike stared. + +"You're what? You?" + +"I," said Psmith, breathing on a coat-button, and polishing it with +his handkerchief. + +"Can you play cricket?" + +"You have discovered," said Psmith, "my secret sorrow." + +"You're rotting." + +"You wrong me, Comrade Jackson." + +"Then why haven't you played?" + +"Why haven't you?" + +"Why didn't you come and play for Lower Borlock, I mean?" + +"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." + +"No, but look here, Smith, bar rotting. Are you really any good at +cricket?" + +"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." + +"But you told me you didn't like cricket. You said you only liked +watching it." + +"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----" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER LVI + +IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED + + +"Sprained his wrist?" said Mike. "How did he do that?" + +"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." + +"I say, what beastly rough luck! I'd no idea. I'll go round." + +"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." + +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. + +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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Mike, shuffling across to school in a Burberry, met Adair at Downing's +gate. + +These moments are always difficult. Mike stopped--he could hardly walk +on as if nothing had happened--and looked down at his feet. + +"Coming across?" he said awkwardly. + +"Right ho!" said Adair. + +They walked on in silence. + +"It's only about ten to, isn't it?" said Mike. + +Adair fished out his watch, and examined it with an elaborate care +born of nervousness. + +"About nine to." + +"Good. We've got plenty of time." + +"Yes." + +"I hate having to hurry over to school." + +"So do I." + +"I often do cut it rather fine, though." + +"Yes. So do I." + +"Beastly nuisance when one does." + +"Beastly." + +"It's only about a couple of minutes from the houses to the school, I +should think, shouldn't you?" + +"Not much more. Might be three." + +"Yes. Three if one didn't hurry." + +"Oh, yes, if one didn't hurry." + +Another silence. + +"Beastly day," said Adair. + +"Rotten." + +Silence again. + +"I say," said Mike, scowling at his toes, "awfully sorry about your +wrist." + +"Oh, that's all right. It was my fault." + +"Does it hurt?" + +"Oh, no, rather not, thanks." + +"I'd no idea you'd crocked yourself." + +"Oh, no, that's all right. It was only right at the end. You'd have +smashed me anyhow." + +"Oh, rot." + +"I bet you anything you like you would." + +"I bet you I shouldn't.... Jolly hard luck, just before the match." + +"Oh, no.... I say, thanks awfully for saying you'd play." + +"Oh, rot.... Do you think we shall get a game?" + +Adair inspected the sky carefully. + +"I don't know. It looks pretty bad, doesn't it?" + +"Rotten. I say, how long will your wrist keep you out of cricket?" + +"Be all right in a week. Less, probably." + +"Good." + +"Now that you and Smith are going to play, we ought to have a jolly +good season." + +"Rummy, Smith turning out to be a cricketer." + +"Yes. I should think he'd be a hot bowler, with his height." + +"He must be jolly good if he was only just out of the Eton team last +year." + +"Yes." + +"What's the time?" asked Mike. + +Adair produced his watch once more. + +"Five to." + +"We've heaps of time." + +"Yes, heaps." + +"Let's stroll on a bit down the road, shall we?" + +"Right ho!" + +Mike cleared his throat. + +"I say." + +"Hullo?" + +"I've been talking to Smith. He was telling me that you thought I'd +promised to give Stone and Robinson places in the----" + +"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." + +"He never even asked me to get him a place." + +"No, I know." + +"Of course, I wouldn't have done it, even if he had." + +"Of course not." + +"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." + +"No, I know." + +"It was rotten enough, really, not playing myself." + +"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." + +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. + +He eluded the pitfall. + +"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." + +Adair shuffled awkwardly. + +"I've always been fairly keen on the place," he said. "But I don't +suppose I've done anything much." + +"You've loosened one of my front teeth," said Mike, with a grin, "if +that's any comfort to you." + +"I couldn't eat anything except porridge this morning. My jaw still +aches." + +For the first time during the conversation their eyes met, and the +humorous side of the thing struck them simultaneously. They began to +laugh. + +"What fools we must have looked!" said Adair. + +"_You_ 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." + +"It might clear before eleven. You'd better get changed, anyhow, at +the interval, and hang about in case." + +"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." + +"He isn't a bad sort of chap, when you get to know him," said Adair. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mike stopped. + +"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." + +"What! They wouldn't play us." + +"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?" + +Adair was as one who has seen a vision. + +"By Jove," he said at last, "if we only could!" + + + + +CHAPTER LVII + +MR. DOWNING MOVES + + +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 _v_. M.C.C. match was accordingly scratched. + +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. + +"What's he want me for?" inquired Mike. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +He was still fiddling away at it when Mike returned. + +Mike, though Psmith was at first too absorbed to notice it, was +agitated. + +"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.'" + +"The man's an absolute drivelling ass," said Mike warmly. + +"Me, do you mean?" + +"What on earth would be the point of my doing it?" + +"You'd gather in a thousand of the best. Give you a nice start in +life." + +"I'm not talking about your rotten puzzle." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"That ass Downing. I believe he's off his nut." + +"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?" + +"He's off his nut." + +"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?" + +Mike sat down. + +"You remember that painting Sammy business?" + +"As if it were yesterday," said Psmith. "Which it was, pretty nearly." + +"He thinks I did it." + +"Why? Have you ever shown any talent in the painting line?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"_Did_ you, by the way?" asked Psmith. + +"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." + +"Such as what?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"He swears one of the boots was splashed with paint." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Psmith sighed. + +"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?" + +Mike stared, "What the dickens are you talking about?" + +"Go on. Get it over. Be a man, and reach up the chimney." + +"I don't know what the game is," said Mike, kneeling beside the fender +and groping, "but--_Hullo_!" + +"Ah ha!" said Psmith moodily. + +Mike dropped the soot-covered object in the fender, and glared at it. + +[Illustration: MIKE DROPPED THE SOOT-COVERED OBJECT IN THE FENDER.] + +"It's my boot!" he said at last. + +"It _is_," said Psmith, "your boot. And what is that red stain +across the toe? Is it blood? No, 'tis not blood. It is red paint." + +Mike seemed unable to remove his eyes from the boot. + +"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." + +"Then you were out that night?" + +"Rather. That's what makes it so jolly awkward. It's too long to tell +you now----" + +"Your stories are never too long for me," said Psmith. "Say on!" + +"Well, it was like this." And Mike related the events which had led up +to his midnight excursion. Psmith listened attentively. + +"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?" + +"Yes. Of course there was no need for him to have the money at all." + +"And the result is that you are in something of a tight place. You're +_absolutely_ 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!" + +"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." + +Psmith pondered. + +"It _is_ a tightish place," he admitted. + +"I wonder if we could get this boot clean," said Mike, inspecting it +with disfavour. + +"Not for a pretty considerable time." + +"I suppose not. I say, I _am_ in the cart. If I can't produce +this boot, they're bound to guess why." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Sufficient, too," said Psmith, "quite sufficient. I take it, then, +that he is now on the war-path, collecting a gang, so to speak." + +"I suppose he's gone to the Old Man about it." + +"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?" + +"I suppose he'll send for me, and try to get something out of me." + +"_He'll_ 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." + +"Well, I hope you'll be able to think of something. I can't." + +"Possibly. You never know." + +There was a tap at the door. + +"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." + +A small boy, carrying a straw hat adorned with the school-house +ribbon, answered the invitation. + +"Oh, I say, Jackson," he said, "the headmaster sent me over to tell +you he wants to see you." + +"I told you so," said Mike to Psmith. + +"Don't go," suggested Psmith. "Tell him to write." + +Mike got up. + +"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." + +The emissary departed. + +"_You're_ 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." + +With which expert advice, he allowed Mike to go on his way. + +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. + +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. + +"Is Mr. Downing at home?" inquired Psmith. + +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. + +"An excellent likeness, sir," said Psmith, with a gesture of the hand +towards the painting. + +"Well, Smith," said Mr. Downing shortly, "what do you wish to see me +about?" + +"It was in connection with the regrettable painting of your dog, sir." + +"Ha!" said Mr. Downing. + +"I did it, sir," said Psmith, stopping and flicking a piece of fluff +off his knee. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII + +THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK + + +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. + +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. + +"I would not have interrupted you," said Mr. Downing, "but----" + +"Not at all, Mr. Downing. Is there anything I can----?" + +"I have discovered--I have been informed--In short, it was not +Jackson, who committed the--who painted my dog." + +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. + +"Not Jackson?" said the headmaster. + +"No. It was a boy in the same house. Smith." + +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. + +"Smith!" said the headmaster. "What makes you think that?" + +"Simply this," said Mr. Downing, with calm triumph, "that the boy +himself came to me a few moments ago and confessed." + +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. + +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. + +Mike took advantage of a pause to get up. "May I go, sir?" he said. + +"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." + +"Yes, sir." + +He had reached the door, when again there was a knock. + +"Come in," said the headmaster. + +It was Adair. + +"Yes, Adair?" + +Adair was breathing rather heavily, as if he had been running. + +"It was about Sammy--Sampson, sir," he said, looking at Mr. Downing. + +"Ah, we know--. Well, Adair, what did you wish to say." + +"It wasn't Jackson who did it, sir." + +"No, no, Adair. So Mr. Downing----" + +"It was Dunster, sir." + +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. + +"Adair!" + +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. + +"Adair!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"What--_what_ do you mean?" + +"It _was_ 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." + +"Smith told you?" said Mr. Downing. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did you say anything to him about your having received this letter +from Dunster?" + +"I gave him the letter to read, sir." + +"And what was his attitude when he had read it?" + +"He laughed, sir." + +"_Laughed!_" Mr. Downing's voice was thunderous. + +"Yes, sir. He rolled about." + +Mr. Downing snorted. + +"But Adair," said the headmaster, "I do not understand how this thing +could have been done by Dunster. He has left the school." + +"He was down here for the Old Sedleighans' match, sir. He stopped the +night in the village." + +"And that was the night the--it happened?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"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." + +"The sergeant," said Mr. Downing, "told me that the boy he saw was +attempting to enter Mr. Outwood's house." + +"Another freak of Dunster's, I suppose," said the headmaster. "I shall +write to him." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"If you please, sir, Mr. Smith is waiting in the hall." + +"In the hall!" + +"Yes, sir. He arrived soon after Mr. Adair, sir, saying that he would +wait, as you would probably wish to see him shortly." + +"H'm. Ask him to step up, Barlow." + +"Yes, sir." + +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. + +Presently there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs. The door was +opened. + +"Mr. Smith, sir." + +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. + +"It is still raining," he observed. "You wished to see me, sir?" + +"Sit down, Smith." + +"Thank you, sir." + +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. + +Mr. Downing burst out, like a reservoir that has broken its banks. + +"Smith." + +Psmith turned his gaze politely in the housemaster's direction. + +"Smith, you came to me a quarter of an hour ago and told me that it +was you who had painted my dog Sampson." + +"Yes, sir." + +"It was absolutely untrue?" + +"I am afraid so, sir." + +"But, Smith--" began the headmaster. + +Psmith bent forward encouragingly. + +"----This is a most extraordinary affair. Have you no explanation to +offer? What induced you to do such a thing?" + +Psmith sighed softly. + +"The craze for notoriety, sir," he replied sadly. "The curse of the +present age." + +"What!" cried the headmaster. + +"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----" + +The headmaster interrupted. + +"Smith," he said, "I should like to see you alone for a moment. Mr. +Downing might I trouble--? Adair, Jackson." + +He made a motion towards the door. + +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. + +"Er--Smith." + +"Sir?" + +The headmaster seemed to have some difficulty in proceeding. He paused +again. Then he went on. + +"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--_mental_ illness?" + +"No, sir." + +"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?" + +"There isn't a lunatic on the list, sir," said Psmith cheerfully. + +"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?" + +"Strictly between ourselves, sir----" + +Privately, the headmaster found Psmith's man-to-man attitude somewhat +disconcerting, but he said nothing. + +"Well, Smith?" + +"I should not like it to go any further, sir." + +"I will certainly respect any confidence----" + +"I don't want anybody to know, sir. This is strictly between +ourselves." + +"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." + +"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." + +There was a pause. + +"It was a very wrong thing to do, Smith," said the headmaster, at +last, "but.... You are a curious boy, Smith. Good-night." + +He held out his hand. + +"Good-night, sir," said Psmith. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +Mike and Adair were waiting for him outside the front door. + +"Well?" said Mike. + +"You _are_ the limit," said Adair. "What's he done?" + +"Nothing. We had a very pleasant chat, and then I tore myself away." + +"Do you mean to say he's not going to do a thing?" + +"Not a thing." + +"Well, you're a marvel," said Adair. + +Psmith thanked him courteously. They walked on towards the houses. + +"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." + +"What's that?" asked Psmith. + +"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." + +"Oh, I should think they're certain to," said Mike. "Good-night." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"I say, Psmith," said Mike suddenly, "what really made you tell +Downing you'd done it?" + +"The craving for----" + +"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." + +Psmith's expression was one of pain. + +"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." + +"Well, I believe you did, all the same," said Mike obstinately. "And +it was jolly good of you, too." + +Psmith moaned. + + + + +CHAPTER LIX + +SEDLEIGH _v_. WRYKYN + + +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. + +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 _them_. 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. + +Sedleigh had gone on to the field that morning a depressed side. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As Mike reached the pavilion, Adair declared the innings closed. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A quarter past six struck, and then Psmith made a suggestion which +altered the game completely. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Two minutes later Drummond's successor was retiring to the pavilion, +while the wicket-keeper straightened the stumps again. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Psmith and Mike sat in their study after lock-up, discussing things in +general and the game in particular. + +"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." + +"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." + +"He bowled awfully well." + +"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?" + +"Well?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +They staggered. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mike, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE *** + +***** This file should be named 7423.txt or 7423.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/4/2/7423/ + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Jim Tinsley, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. +With thanks to Amherst College Library. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Mike + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7423] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 27, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII, with a few ISO-8859-1 characters + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Jim Tinsley, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. +With thanks to Amherst College Library. + + + + + + + + + +MIKE + +A PUBLIC SCHOOL STORY + + + +BY +P. G. WODEHOUSE + +1909 + + + +CONTAINING TWELVE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS +BY T. M. R. WHITWELL + + + + + +[Illustration (Frontispiece): "ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON THEN WHO HAD AN +AVERAGE OF FIFTY ONE POINT NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?"] + + + + +[Dedication] +TO +ALAN DURAND + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER +I. MIKE + +II. THE JOURNEY DOWN + +III. MIKE FINDS A FRIENDLY NATIVE + +IV. AT THE NETS + +V. REVELRY BY NIGHT + +VI. IN WHICH A TIGHT CORNER IS EVADED + +VII. IN WHICH MIKE IS DISCUSSED + +VIII. A ROW WITH THE TOWN + +IX. BEFORE THE STORM + +X. THE GREAT PICNIC + +XI. THE CONCLUSION OF THE PICNIC + +XII. MIKE GETS HIS CHANCE + +XIII. THE M.C.C. MATCH + +XIV. A SLIGHT IMBROGLIO + +XV. MIKE CREATES A VACANCY + +XVI. AN EXPERT EXAMINATION + +XVII. ANOTHER VACANCY + +XVIII. BOB HAS NEWS TO IMPART + +XIX. MIKE GOES TO SLEEP AGAIN + +XX. THE TEAM IS FILLED UP + +XXI. MARJORY THE FRANK + +XXII. WYATT IS REMINDED OF AN ENGAGEMENT + +XXIII. A SURPRISE FOR MR. APPLEBY + +XXIV. CAUGHT + +XXV. MARCHING ORDERS + +XXVI. THE AFTERMATH + +XXVII. THE RIPTON MATCH + +XXVIII. MIKE WINS HOME + +XXIX. WYATT AGAIN + +XXX. MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND + +XXXI. SEDLEIGH + +XXXII. PSMITH + +XXXIII. STAKING OUT A CLAIM + +XXXIV. GUERILLA WARFARE + +XXXV. UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS + +XXXVI. ADAIR + +XXXVII. MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION + +XXXVIII. THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING + +XXXIX. ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT + +XL. THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S + +XLI. THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF JELLICOE + +XLII. JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK-LIST + +XLIII. MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION + +XLIV. AND FULFILS IT + +XLV. PURSUIT + +XLVI. THE DECORATION OF SAMMY + +XLVII. MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT + +XLVIII. THE SLEUTH-HOUND + +XLIX. A CHECK + +L. THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE + +LI. MAINLY ABOUT BOOTS + +LII. ON THE TRAIL AGAIN + +LIII. THE KETTLE METHOD + +LIV. ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE + +LV. CLEARING THE AIR + +LVI. IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED + +LVII. MR. DOWNING MOVES + +LVIII. THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK + +LIX. SEDLEIGH _v._ WRYKYN + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +BY T. M. R. WHITWELL + + +"ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON, THEN, WHO HAD AN AVERAGE OF FIFTY-ONE POINT +NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?" + +THE DARK WATERS WERE LASHED INTO A MAELSTROM + +"DON'T _LAUGH_, YOU GRINNING APE" + +"DO--YOU--SEE, YOU FRIGHTFUL KID?" + +"WHAT'S ALL THIS ABOUT JIMMY WYATT?" + +MIKE AND THE BALL ARRIVED ALMOST SIMULTANEOUSLY + +"WHAT THE DICKENS ARE YOU DOING HERE?" + +PSMITH SEIZED AND EMPTIED JELLICOE'S JUG OVER SPILLER + +"WHY DID YOU SAY YOU DIDN'T PLAY CRICKET?" HE ASKED + +"WHO--" HE SHOUTED, "WHO HAS DONE THIS?" + +"DID--YOU--PUT--THAT--BOOT--THERE, SMITH?" + +MIKE DROPPED THE SOOT-COVERED OBJECT IN THE FENDER + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MIKE + + +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 +_Sportsman_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +"Mike's late again," said Mrs. Jackson plaintively, at last. + +"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." + +"Marjory!" + +"Well, he was on his back with his mouth wide open. I had to. He was +snoring like anything." + +"You might have choked him." + +"I did," said Marjory with satisfaction. "Jam, please, Phyllis, you +pig." + +Mr. Jackson looked up. + +"Mike will have to be more punctual when he goes to Wrykyn," he said. + +"Oh, father, is Mike going to Wrykyn?" asked Marjory. "When?" + +"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." + +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. + +"I say!" he said. "What?" + +"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." + +"He's got cheek enough for ten," agreed Bob. + +"Wrykyn will do him a world of good." + +"We aren't in the same house. That's one comfort." + +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. + +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. + +"Hooray! Mike's going to Wrykyn. I bet he gets into the first eleven +his first term." + +"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." + +The aspersion stung Marjory. + +"I bet he gets in before you, anyway," she said. + +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. + +Mrs. Jackson intervened. + +"Go on with your breakfast, Marjory," she said. "You mustn't say 'I +bet' so much." + +Marjory bit off a section of her slice of bread-and-jam. + +"Anyhow, I bet he does," she muttered truculently through it. + +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." + +This was mere stereo. He had made the same remark nearly every morning +since the beginning of the holidays. + +"All right, Marjory, you little beast," was his reference to the +sponge incident. + +His third remark was of a practical nature. + +"I say, what's under that dish?" + +"Mike," began Mr. Jackson--this again was stereo--"you really must +learn to be more punctual----" + +He was interrupted by a chorus. + +"Mike, you're going to Wrykyn next term," shouted Marjory. + +"Mike, father's just had a letter to say you're going to Wrykyn next +term." From Phyllis. + +"Mike, you're going to Wrykyn." From Ella. + +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." + +"Oh, put a green baize cloth over that kid, somebody," groaned Bob. + +Whereat Gladys Maud, having fixed him with a chilly stare for some +seconds, suddenly drew a long breath, and squealed deafeningly for +more milk. + +Mike looked round the table. It was a great moment. He rose to it with +the utmost dignity. + +"Good," he said. "I say, what's under that dish?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +Mike put on his pads; and Marjory walked with the professional to the +bowling crease. + +"Mike's going to Wrykyn next term, Saunders," she said. "All the boys +were there, you know. So was father, ages ago." + +"Is he, miss? I was thinking he would be soon." + +"Do you think he'll get into the school team?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Saunders looked a little doubtful. + +"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." + +"But Mike's jolly strong." + +"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." + +"No, I don't, Saunders. What are they like?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Marjory sat down again beside the net, and watched more hopefully. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE JOURNEY DOWN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Where's that porter?" Mike heard him say. + +The porter came skimming down the platform at that moment. + +"Porter." + +"Sir?" + +"Are those frightful boxes of mine in all right?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Because, you know, there'll be a frightful row if any of them get +lost." + +"No chance of that, sir." + +"Here you are, then." + +"Thank you, sir." + +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. + +The other made no overtures, and at the next stop got out. That +explained his magazineless condition. He was only travelling a short +way. + +"Good business," said Mike to himself. He had all the Englishman's +love of a carriage to himself. + +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. + +And here, I regret to say, Mike acted from the best motives, which is +always fatal. + +He realised in an instant what had happened. The fellow had forgotten +his bag. + +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 +trainwas already moving quite fast, and Mike's compartment was nearing +the end of the platform. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Hullo, I say," said the stranger. "Have you changed carriages, or +what?" + +"No," said Mike. + +"Then, dash it, where's my frightful bag?" + +Life teems with embarrassing situations. This was one of them. + +"The fact is," said Mike, "I chucked it out." + +"Chucked it out! what do you mean? When?" + +"At the last station." + +The guard blew his whistle, and the other jumped into the carriage. + +"I thought you'd got out there for good," explained Mike. "I'm awfully +sorry." + +"Where _is_ the bag?" + +"On the platform at the last station. It hit a porter." + +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. + +The bereaved owner disapproved of this levity; and said as much. + +"Don't _grin_, 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." + +"It wasn't that," said Mike hurriedly. "Only the porter looked awfully +funny when it hit him." + +"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." + +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. + +"Hullo, there you are," said Bob. + +His eye fell upon Mike's companion. + +"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." + +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. + +"Oh, are you in Wain's?" he said. + +"I say, Bob," said Mike, "I've made rather an ass of myself." + +"Naturally." + +"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." + +"You're a bit of a rotter, aren't you? Had it got your name and +address on it, Gazeka?" + +"Yes." + +"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." + +"Frightful nuisance, all the same. Lots of things in it I wanted." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Frightful," agreed Firby-Smith. + +"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." + +Mike looked out of the window. It was Wrykyn at last. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MIKE FINDS A FRIENDLY NATIVE + + +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. + +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," + +"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." + +"What shall _we_ do?" said Bob. "Come and have some tea at +Cook's?" + +"All right." + +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? + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Can you tell me the way to the school, please," he said. + +"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. + +"You look rather lost," said the stranger. "Been hunting for it long?" + +"Yes," said Mike. + +"Which house do you want?" + +"Wain's." + +"Wain's? Then you've come to the right man this time. What I don't +know about Wain's isn't worth knowing." + +"Are you there, too?" + +"Am I not! Term _and_ holidays. There's no close season for me." + +"Oh, are you Wyatt, then?" asked Mike. + +"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?" + +"I heard my brother saying something about you in the train." + +"Who's your brother?" + +"Jackson. He's in Donaldson's." + +"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?" + +"Not brothers," said Mike. + +"Pity. You can't quite raise a team, then? Are you a sort of young +Tyldesley, too?" + +"I played a bit at my last school. Only a private school, you know," +added Mike modestly. + +"Make any runs? What was your best score?" + +"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. + +"That's pretty useful. Any more centuries?" + +"Yes," said Mike, shuffling. + +"How many?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh, thanks awfully," said Mike. "My brother and Firby-Smith have gone +to a place called Cook's." + +"The old Gazeka? I didn't know he lived in your part of the world. +He's head of Wain's." + +"Yes, I know," said Mike. "Why is he called Gazeka?" he asked after a +pause. + +"Don't you think he looks like one? What did you think of him?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"I say, it's jolly big," he said. "How many fellows are there in it?" + +"Thirty-one this term, I believe." + +"That's more than there were at King-Hall's." + +"What's King-Hall's?" + +"The private school I was at. At Emsworth." + +Emsworth seemed very remote and unreal to him as he spoke. + +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. + +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. + +Wyatt took Mike into the matron's room, a small room opening out of +the main passage. + +"This is Jackson," he said. "Which dormitory is he in, Miss Payne?" + +The matron consulted a paper. + +"He's in yours, Wyatt." + +"Good business. Who's in the other bed? There are going to be three of +us, aren't there?" + +"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." + +"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." + +They went along the passage, and up a flight of stairs. + +"Here you are," said Wyatt. + +It was a fair-sized room. The window, heavily barred, looked out over +a large garden. + +"I used to sleep here alone last term," said Wyatt, "but the house is +so full now they've turned it into a dormitory." + +"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. + +Wyatt looked at him curiously, and moved to the window. + +"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----" + +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. + +"By Jove!" said Mike. + +"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?" + +"All right," said Mike, reluctantly. "But I wish you'd let me." + +"Not if I know it. Promise you won't try it on." + +"All right. But, I say, what do you do out there?" + +"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." + +"I wish you'd let me come." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AT THE NETS + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo, where are you off to?" asked Wyatt. "Coming to watch the +nets?" + +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. + +"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." + +This suited Mike admirably. A quarter of an hour later he was sitting +at the back of the first eleven net, watching the practice. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Thanks," said Bob austerely, as Mike returned the ball to him. He +seemed depressed. + +Towards the end of the afternoon, Wyatt went up to Burgess. + +"Burgess," he said, "see that kid sitting behind the net?" + +"With the naked eye," said Burgess. "Why?" + +"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." + +Burgess's amiability off the field equalled his ruthlessness when +bowling. + +"All right," he said. "Only if you think that I'm going to sweat to +bowl to him, you're making a fatal error." + +"You needn't do a thing. Just sit and watch. I rather fancy this kid's +something special." + + * * * * * + +Mike put on Wyatt's pads and gloves, borrowed his bat, and walked +round into the net. + +"Not in a funk, are you?" asked Wyatt, as he passed. + +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. + +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. + +"How's that?" said Wyatt, with the smile of an impresario on the first +night of a successful piece. + +"Not bad," admitted Burgess. + +A few moments later he was still more complimentary. He got up and +took a ball himself. + +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. + +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. + +"Well played," said Burgess. + +Mike felt like a successful general receiving the thanks of the +nation. + +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. + +"Thanks awfully," said Mike, referring to the square manner in which +the captain had behaved in letting him bat. + +"What school were you at before you came here?" asked Burgess. + +"A private school in Hampshire," said Mike. "King-Hall's. At a place +called Emsworth." + +"Get much cricket there?" + +"Yes, a good lot. One of the masters, a chap called Westbrook, was an +awfully good slow bowler." + +Burgess nodded. + +"You don't run away, which is something," he said. + +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. + +"Well played," he said. "I'd no idea you were such hot stuff. You're a +regular pro." + +"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." + +"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." + +"By Jove, that would be all right." + +"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." + +"I hope so," said Mike. + +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. + +"This place is ripping," he said to himself, as he saw his name on the +list. "Thought I should like it." + +And that night he wrote a letter to his father, notifying him of the +fact. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +REVELRY BY NIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The arrival of tea was the cue for conversation. + +"Well, how are you getting on?" asked Bob. + +"Oh, all right," said Mike. + +Silence. + +"Sugar?" asked Bob. + +"Thanks," said Mike. + +"How many lumps?" + +"Two, please." + +"Cake?" + +"Thanks." + +Silence. + +Bob pulled himself together. + +"Like Wain's?" + +"Ripping." + +"I asked Firby-Smith to keep an eye on you," said Bob. + +"What!" said Mike. + +The mere idea of a worm like the Gazeka being told to keep an eye on +_him_ was degrading. + +"He said he'd look after you," added Bob, making things worse. + +Look after him! Him!! M. Jackson, of the third eleven!!! + +Mike helped himself to another chunk of cake, and spoke crushingly. + +"He needn't trouble," he said. "I can look after myself all right, +thanks." + +Bob saw an opening for the entry of the Heavy Elder Brother. + +"Look here, Mike," he said, "I'm only saying it for your good----" + +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. + +"Yes?" said Mike coldly. + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" said Mike, outraged. + +"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." + +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. + +"Seen you about with Wyatt a good deal," he said at length. + +"Yes," said Mike. + +"Like him?" + +"Yes," said Mike cautiously. + +"You know," said Bob, "I shouldn't--I mean, I should take care what +you're doing with Wyatt." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well, he's an awfully good chap, of course, but still----" + +"Still what?" + +"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?" + +Bob was well-intentioned, but tact did not enter greatly into his +composition. + +"What rot!" said Mike. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +That youth, all spectacles and front teeth, met Mike at the door of +Wain's. + +"Ah, I wanted to see you, young man," he said. (Mike disliked being +called "young man.") "Come up to my study." + +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. + +"I've been hearing all about you, young man." Mike shuffled. + +"You're a frightful character from all accounts." Mike could not think +of anything to say that was not rude, so said nothing. + +"Your brother has asked me to keep an eye on you." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Hullo," he said. "Is that you, Wyatt?" + +"Are you awake?" said Wyatt. "Sorry if I've spoiled your beauty +sleep." + +"Are you going out?" + +"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." + +"I say, can't I come too?" + +A moonlight prowl, with or without an air-pistol, would just have +suited Mike's mood. + +"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." + +"Do you think you will be caught?" + +"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." + +And Wyatt, laying the bar he had extracted on the window-sill, +wriggled out. Mike saw him disappearing along the wall. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He crept quietly out of the dormitory. + +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. + +To make himself more secure he locked that door; then, turning up the +incandescent light, he proceeded to look about him. + +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. + +He took some more biscuits, and an apple. + +After which, feeling a new man, he examined the room. + +And this was where the trouble began. + +On a table in one corner stood a small gramophone. And gramophones +happened to be Mike's particular craze. + +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 _he_ inserted the first record that +came to hand, wound the machine up, and set it going. + +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. + +_"Auntie went to Aldershot in a Paris pom-pom hat."_ + +Mike stood and drained it in. + +_"... Good gracious_ (sang Mr. Field), _what was that?"_ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +The answer was simple. + +"He'd clear out," thought Mike. + +Two minutes later he was in bed. + +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! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN WHICH A TIGHT CORNER IS EVADED + + +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. + +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. + +He knocked at the door, and went in. + +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. + +"Please, sir, I thought I heard a noise," said Mike. + +Mr. Wain continued to stare. + +"What are you doing here?" said he at last. + +"Thought I heard a noise, please, sir." + +"A noise?" + +"Please, sir, a row." + +"You thought you heard----!" + +The thing seemed to be worrying Mr. Wain. + +"So I came down, sir," said Mike. + +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. + +"Did you turn on the gramophone?" he asked. + +"_Me_, sir!" said Mike, with the air of a bishop accused of +contributing to the _Police News_. + +"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?" + +"Thought I heard a noise, please, sir." + +"A noise?" + +"A row, sir." + +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. + +"I think there must have been a burglar in here, Jackson." + +"Looks like it, sir." + +"I found the window open." + +"He's probably in the garden, sir." + +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. + +"He might be still in the house," said Mr. Wain, ruminatively. + +"Not likely, sir." + +"You think not?" + +"Wouldn't be such a fool, sir. I mean, such an ass, sir." + +"Perhaps you are right, Jackson." + +"I shouldn't wonder if he was hiding in the shrubbery, sir." + +Mr. Wain looked at the shrubbery, as who should say, _"Et tu, +Brute!"_ + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +On the second of these occasions a low voice spoke from somewhere on +his right. + +"Who on earth's that?" it said. + +Mike stopped. + +"Is that you, Wyatt? I say----" + +"Jackson!" + +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. + +"You young ass," said Wyatt. "You promised me that you wouldn't get +out." + +"Yes, I know, but----" + +"I heard you crashing through the shrubbery like a hundred elephants. +If you _must_ get out at night and chance being sacked, you might +at least have the sense to walk quietly." + +"Yes, but you don't understand." + +And Mike rapidly explained the situation. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You--_what?_" + +"The gramophone. It started playing 'The Quaint Old Bird.' Ripping it +was, till Wain came along." + +Wyatt doubled up with noiseless laughter. + +"You're a genius," he said. "I never saw such a man. Well, what's the +game now? What's the idea?" + +"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." + +"That's not a bad idea. All right. You dash along then. I'll get +back." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Please, sir, so excited," said Mike, standing outside with his hands +on the sill. + +"You have no business to be excited. I will not have it. It is +exceedingly impertinent of you." + +"Please, sir, may I come in?" + +"Come in! Of course, come in. Have you no sense, boy? You are laying +the seeds of a bad cold. Come in at once." + +Mike clambered through the window. + +"I couldn't find him, sir. He must have got out of the garden." + +"Undoubtedly," said Mr. Wain. "Undoubtedly so. It was very wrong of +you to search for him. You have been seriously injured. Exceedingly +so" + +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. + +"I thought I heard a noise, sir," he said. + +He called Mr. Wain "father" in private, "sir" in public. The presence +of Mike made this a public occasion. + +"Has there been a burglary?" + +"Yes," said Mike, "only he has got away." + +"Shall I go out into the garden, and have a look round, sir?" asked +Wyatt helpfully. + +The question stung Mr. Wain into active eruption once more. + +"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." + +"But the burglar, sir?" said Wyatt. + +"We might catch him, sir," said Mike. + +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. + +"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." + +They made it so. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN WHICH MIKE IS DISCUSSED + + +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. + +"One for the pot," said Clowes. + +"All right," breathed Trevor. "Come and help, you slacker." + +"Too busy." + +"You aren't doing a stroke." + +"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." + +"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." + +"My mind at the moment," said Clowes, "was tensely occupied with the +problem of brothers at school. Have you got any brothers, Trevor?" + +"One. Couple of years younger than me. I say, we shall want some more +jam to-morrow. Better order it to-day." + +"See it done, Tigellinus, as our old pal Nero used to remark. Where is +he? Your brother, I mean." + +"Marlborough." + +"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." + +"Why not? Shouldn't have minded." + +"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.'" + +"You were right there," said Trevor. + +"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----" + +"Such as who?" + +"----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----" + +"Oh, come on," said Trevor. + +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. + +"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." + +"Jackson's all right. What's wrong with him? Besides, naturally, young +Jackson came to Wrykyn when all his brothers had been here." + +"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." + +"Well?" + +"Look here, what's at the bottom of this sending young brothers to the +same school as elder brothers?" + +"Elder brother can keep an eye on him, I suppose." + +"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." + +"Why?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"What's up? Does he rag?" + +"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." + +"He never seems to be in extra. One always sees him about on +half-holidays." + +"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?" + +"He's generally with Wyatt when I meet him." + +"Yes. Well, then!" + +"What's wrong with Wyatt? He's one of the decentest men in the +school." + +"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." + +Trevor looked disturbed. + +"Somebody ought to speak to Bob." + +"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." + +"I don't know. It would be a beastly thing for Bob if the kid did get +into a really bad row." + +"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." + +"The Gazeka is a fool." + +"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?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +He found him in his study, oiling a bat. + +"I say, Bob," he said, "look here. Are you busy?" + +"No. Why?" + +"It's this way. Clowes and I were talking----" + +"If Clowes was there he was probably talking. Well?" + +"About your brother." + +"Oh, by Jove," said Bob, sitting up. "That reminds me. I forgot to get +the evening paper. Did he get his century all right?" + +"Who?" asked Trevor, bewildered. + +"My brother, J. W. He'd made sixty-three not out against Kent in this +morning's paper. What happened?" + +"I didn't get a paper either. I didn't mean that brother. I meant the +one here." + +"Oh, Mike? What's Mike been up to?" + +"Nothing as yet, that I know of; but, I say, you know, he seems a +great pal of Wyatt's." + +"I know. I spoke to him about it." + +"Oh, you did? That's all right, then." + +"Not that there's anything wrong with Wyatt." + +"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." + +"Don't blame him." + +"Nor do I. Rather rot, though, if he lugged your brother into a row by +accident." + +"I should get blamed. I think I'll speak to him again." + +"I should, I think." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I've done that. Smith said he'd speak to him." + +"That's all right then. Is that a new bat?" + +"Got it to-day. Smashed my other yesterday--against the school house." + +Donaldson's had played a friendly with the school house during the +last two days, and had beaten them. + +"I thought I heard it go. You were rather in form." + +"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. + +"I should think you're bound to get your first all right." + +"Hope so. I see Mike's playing for the second against the O.W.s." + +"Yes. Pretty good for his first term. You have a pro. to coach you in +the holidays, don't you?" + +"Yes. I didn't go to him much this last time. I was away a lot. But +Mike fairly lived inside the net." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Sort of infant prodigy," said Trevor. "Don't think he's quite up to +it yet, though." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A ROW WITH THE TOWN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This was the 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. + + "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. + + "Your loving son, + + "MIKE. + + "P.S.--I say, I suppose you couldn't send me five bob, could you? I'm + rather broke. + + "P.P.S.--Half-a-crown would do, only I'd rather it was five bob." + +And, on the back of the envelope, these words: "Or a bob would be +better than nothing." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But there were others. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Possibly, if the town brigade had stuck to a purely verbal form of +attack, all might yet have been peace. Words can be overlooked. + +But tomatoes cannot. + +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. + +In the present crisis, the first tomato was enough to set matters +moving. + +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. + +There was a moment of suspense. Wyatt took out his handkerchief and +wiped his face, over which the succulent vegetable had spread itself. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The leaders were beyond recall, but two remained, tackled low by Wyatt +and Clowes after the fashion of the football-field. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Let's chuck 'em in there," he said. + +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. + +"Now then," it said, "what's all this?" + +A stout figure in policeman's uniform was standing surveying them with +the aid of a small bull's-eye lantern. + +"What's all this?" + +"It's all right," said Wyatt. + +"All right, is it? What's on?" + +One of the prisoners spoke. + +"Make 'em leave hold of us, Mr. Butt. They're a-going to chuck us in +the pond." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I don't want none of your lip, whoever you are," said Mr. Butt, +understanding but dimly, and suspecting impudence by instinct. + +"This is quite a private matter," said Wyatt. "You run along on your +beat. You can't do anything here." + +"Ho!" + +"Shove 'em in, you chaps." + +"Stop!" From Mr. Butt. + +"Oo-er!" From prisoner number one. + +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. + +Wyatt turned to the other prisoner. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The dark waters were lashed into a maelstrom; and then two streaming +figures squelched up the further bank. + +[Illustration: THE DARK WATERS WERE LASHED INTO A MAELSTROM] + +The school stood in silent consternation. It was no occasion for light +apologies. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BEFORE THE STORM + + +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.) + +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. + +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. + +Following the chain of events, we find Mr. Butt, having prudently +changed his clothes, calling upon the headmaster. + +The headmaster was grave and sympathetic; Mr. Butt fierce and +revengeful. + +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. + +"Threw me in, they did, sir. Yes, sir." + +"Threw you in!" + +"Yes, sir. _Plop_!" said Mr. Butt, with a certain sad relish. + +"Really, really!" said the headmaster. "Indeed! This is--dear me! I +shall certainly--They threw you in!--Yes, I shall--certainly----" + +Encouraged by this appreciative reception of his story, Mr. Butt +started it again, right from the beginning. + +"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 _was_ a frakkus!" + +"And these boys actually threw you into the pond?" + +"_Plop_, 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 +_'ave_ you been a-doing? You're all wet.' And," he added, again +with the confidential air, "I _was_ wet, too. Wringin' wet." + +The headmaster's frown deepened. + +"And you are certain that your assailants were boys from the school?" + +"Sure as I am that I'm sitting here, sir. They all 'ad their caps on +their heads, sir." + +"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----" + +"_Splish_, sir!" said the policeman, with a vividness of imagery +both surprising and gratifying. + +The headmaster tapped restlessly on the floor with his foot. + +"How many boys were there?" he asked. + +"Couple of 'undred, sir," said Mr. Butt promptly. + +"Two hundred!" + +"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." + +"H'm--Well, I will look into the matter at once. They shall be +punished." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Ye-e-s--H'm--Yes--Most severely." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Yes--Thank you, constable. Good-night." + +"Good-night, sir." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The step which the headmaster decided to take by way of avenging Mr. +Butt's wrongs was to stop this holiday. + +He gave out a notice to that effect on the Monday. + +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.... + +And here they were, right in it after all. The blow had fallen, and +crushed guilty and innocent alike. + + * * * * * + +The school's attitude can be summed up in three words. It was one +vast, blank, astounded "Here, I say!" + +Everybody was saying it, though not always in those words. When +condensed, everybody's comment on the situation came to that. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Wyatt. + +"Well," said Neville-Smith a little awkwardly, guiltily conscious that +he had been frothing, and scenting sarcasm, "I don't suppose one can +actually _do_ anything." + +"Why not?" said Wyatt. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why don't you take the holiday?" + +"What? Not turn up on Friday!" + +"Yes. I'm not going to." + +Neville-Smith stopped and stared. Wyatt was unmoved. + +"You're what?" + +"I simply sha'n't go to school." + +"You're rotting." + +"All right." + +"No, but, I say, ragging barred. Are you just going to cut off, though +the holiday's been stopped?" + +"That's the idea." + +"You'll get sacked." + +"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." + +"By Jove, nor could they! I say!" + +They walked on, Neville-Smith's mind in a whirl, Wyatt whistling. + +"I say," said Neville-Smith after a pause. "It would be a bit of a +rag." + +"Not bad." + +"Do you think the chaps would do it?" + +"If they understood they wouldn't be alone." + +Another pause. + +"Shall I ask some of them?" said Neville-Smith. + +"Do." + +"I could get quite a lot, I believe." + +"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." + +"I say, what a score, wouldn't it be?" + +"Yes." + +"I'll speak to the chaps to-night, and let you know." + +"All right," said Wyatt. "Tell them that I shall be going anyhow. I +should be glad of a little company." + + * * * * * + +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. + +An air of expectancy permeated each of the houses. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE GREAT PICNIC + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And yet--where was everybody? + +Time only deepened the mystery. The form-rooms, like the gravel, were +empty. + +The cyclists looked at one another in astonishment. What could it +mean? + +It was an occasion on which sane people wonder if their brains are not +playing them some unaccountable trick. + +"I say," said Willoughby, of the Lower Fifth, to Brown, the only other +occupant of the form-room, "the old man _did_ stop the holiday +to-day, didn't he?" + +"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." + +"So do I. I can't make it out. Where _is_ everybody?" + +"They can't _all_ be late." + +"Somebody would have turned up by now. Why, it's just striking." + +"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." + +"So should I." + +"Hullo, here _is_ somebody." + +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. + +"Willoughby. Brown. Are you the only two here? Where is everybody?" + +"Please, sir, we don't know. We were just wondering." + +"Have you seen nobody?" + +"No, sir." + +"We were just wondering, sir, if the holiday had been put on again, +after all." + +"I've heard nothing about it. I should have received some sort of +intimation if it had been." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you mean to say that you have seen _nobody_, Brown?" + +"Only about a dozen fellows, sir. The usual lot who come on bikes, +sir." + +"None of the boarders?" + +"No, sir. Not a single one." + +"This is extraordinary." + +Mr. Spence pondered. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +A brisk conversation was going on. Several voices hailed Mr. Spence as +he entered. + +"Hullo, Spence. Are you alone in the world too?" + +"Any of your boys turned up, Spence?" + +"You in the same condition as we are, Spence?" + +Mr. Spence seated himself on the table. + +"Haven't any of your fellows turned up, either?" he said. + +"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 be 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"It is most mysterious," agreed Mr. Wain, plucking at his beard. +"Exceedingly so." + +The younger masters, notably Mr. Spence and Mr. Seymour, had begun to +look on the thing as a huge jest. + +"We had better teach ourselves," said Mr. Seymour. "Spence, do a +hundred lines for laughing in form." + +The door burst open. + +"Hullo, here's another scholastic Little Bo-Peep," said Mr. Seymour. +"Well, Appleby, have you lost your sheep, too?" + +"You don't mean to tell me----" began Mr. Appleby. + +"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.?" + +"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." + +"What does it all mean?" exclaimed Mr. Appleby. + +"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." + +"They surely cannot----!" + +"Well, where are they then?" + +"Do you seriously mean that the entire school has--has +_rebelled_?" + +"'Nay, sire,'" quoted Mr. Spence, "'a revolution!'" + +"I never heard of such a thing!" + +"We're making history," said Mr. Seymour. + +"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." + +"It is deplorable," said Mr. Wain, with austerity. "Exceedingly so." + +"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----!" + +Mr. Seymour got up. + +"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 _are_?" + +"Look at Shields," said Mr. Spence. "He might be posing for a statue +to be called 'Despair!' He reminds me of Macduff. _Macbeth_, Act +iv., somewhere near the end. 'What, all my pretty chickens, at one +fell swoop?' That's what Shields is saying to himself." + +"It's all very well to make a joke of it, Spence," said Mr. Shields +querulously, "but it is most disturbing. Most." + +"Exceedingly," agreed Mr. Wain. + +The bereaved company of masters walked on up the stairs that led to +the Great Hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CONCLUSION OF THE PICNIC + + +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. + +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. + +This morning there was a mere handful, and the place looked worse than +empty. + +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. + +In the Masters' library Mr. Wain and Mr. Shields, the spokesmen of the +Common Room, were breaking the news to the headmaster. + +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. + +"You say that the whole school is absent?" he remarked quietly. + +Mr. Shields, in a long-winded flow of words, replied that that was +what he did say. + +"Ah!" said the headmaster. + +There was a silence. + +"'M!" said the headmaster. + +There was another silence. + +"Ye--e--s!" said the headmaster. + +He then led the way into the Hall. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The headmaster bent down from the dais and called to Firby-Smith, who +was standing in his place with the Sixth. + +The Gazeka, blushing warmly, stepped forward. + +"Bring me a school list, Firby-Smith," said the headmaster. + +The Gazeka was wearing a pair of very squeaky boots that morning. They +sounded deafening as he walked out of the room. + +The school waited. + +Presently a distant squeaking was heard, and Firby-Smith returned, +bearing a large sheet of paper. + +The headmaster thanked him, and spread it out on the reading-desk. + +Then, calmly, as if it were an occurrence of every day, he began to +call the roll. + +"Abney." + +No answer. + +"Adams." + +No answer. + +"Allenby." + +"Here, sir," from a table at the end of the room. Allenby was a +prefect, in the Science Sixth. + +The headmaster made a mark against his name with a pencil. + +"Arkwright." + +No answer. + +He began to call the names more rapidly. + +"Arlington. Arthur. Ashe. Aston." + +"Here, sir," in a shrill treble from the rider in motorcars. + +The headmaster made another tick. + +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. + +"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." + +("Good work," murmured Mr. Seymour to himself. "Looks as if we +should get that holiday after all.") + +"The Sixth Form will go to their form-room as usual. I should like +to speak to the masters for a moment." + +He nodded dismissal to the school. + +The masters collected on the daïs. + +"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." + +"That," said Mr. Seymour to Mr. Spence, as they went downstairs, "is +what I call a genuine sportsman." + +"My opinion neatly expressed," said Mr. Spence. "Come on the river. Or +shall we put up a net, and have a knock?" + +"River, I think. Meet you at the boat-house." + +"All right. Don't be long." + +"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." + +"Pity one can't. It seems to me the ideal state of things. Ensures the +greatest happiness of the greatest number." + +"I say! Suppose the school has gone up the river, too, and we meet +them! What shall we do?" + +"Thank them," said Mr. Spence, "most kindly. They've done us well." + +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 _Worfield Intelligencer and Farmers' Guide_, 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 _Daily Mail_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +Wyatt, as generalissimo of the expedition, walked into the +"Grasshopper and Ant," the leading inn of the town. + +"Anything I can do for you, sir?" inquired the landlord politely. + +"Yes, please," said Wyatt, "I want lunch for five hundred and fifty." + +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!" + +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. + +In the early afternoon they rested, and as evening began to fall, the +march home was started. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Bob Jackson, walking back to Donaldson's, met Wyatt at the gate, and +gazed at him, speechless. + +"Hullo," said Wyatt, "been to the nets? I wonder if there's time for a +ginger-beer before the shop shuts." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +MIKE GETS HIS CHANCE + + +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. + +This was the announcement. + +"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." + +He then gave the nod of dismissal. + +The school streamed downstairs, marvelling. + +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. + +Neville-Smith was among these premature rejoicers. + +"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." + +Wyatt was damping. + +"My dear chap," he said, "it's not over yet by a long chalk. It hasn't +started yet." + +"What do you mean? Why didn't he say anything about it in Hall, then?" + +"Why should he? Have you ever had tick at a shop?" + +"Of course I have. What do you mean? Why?" + +"Well, they didn't send in the bill right away. But it came all +right." + +"Do you think he's going to do something, then?" + +"Rather. You wait." + +Wyatt was right. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +"The following boys will go in to extra lesson this afternoon and next +Wednesday," it began. And "the following boys" numbered four hundred. + +"Bates must have got writer's cramp," said Clowes, as he read the huge +scroll. + + * * * * * + +Wyatt met Mike after school, as they went back to the house. + +"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." + +"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." + +"How do you mean?" + +"We got tanned," said Mike ruefully. + +"What!" + +"Yes. Everybody below the Upper Fourth." + +Wyatt roared with laughter. + +"By Gad," he said, "he is an old sportsman. I never saw such a man. He +lowers all records." + +"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." + +"Sting?" + +"Should think it did." + +"Well, buck up. Don't break down." + +"I'm not breaking down," said Mike indignantly. + +"All right, I thought you weren't. Anyhow, you're better off than I +am." + +"An extra's nothing much," said Mike. + +"It is when it happens to come on the same day as the M.C.C. match." + +"Oh, by Jove! I forgot. That's next Wednesday, isn't it? You won't be +able to play!" + +"No." + +"I say, what rot!" + +"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." + +"I should be awfully sick, if it were me." + +"Well, it isn't you, so you're all right. You'll probably get my place +in the team." + +Mike smiled dutifully at what he supposed to be a humorous sally. + +"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." + +"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. + +"I'm not rotting," said Wyatt seriously, "I'll suggest it to Burgess +to-night." + +"You don't think there's any chance of it, really, do you?" said Mike +awkwardly. + +"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." + +"I say," said Mike, overcome, "it's awfully decent of you, Wyatt." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"You rotter! You rotter! You _worm_!" he observed crisply, as +Wyatt appeared. + +"Dear old Billy!" said Wyatt. "Come on, give me a kiss, and let's be +friends." + +"You----!" + +"William! William!" + +"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." + +He struggled into his shirt--he was changing after a bath--and his +face popped wrathfully out at the other end. + +"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." + +"You haven't got a mind," grumbled Burgess. "You've got a cheap brown +paper substitute. That's your trouble." + +Wyatt turned the conversation tactfully. + +"How many wickets did you get to-day?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Why don't you play him against the M.C.C. on Wednesday?" said Wyatt, +jumping at his opportunity. + +"What? Are you sitting on my left shoe?" + +"No. There it is in the corner." + +"Right ho!... What were you saying?" + +"Why not play young Jackson for the first?" + +"Too small." + +"Rot. What does size matter? Cricket isn't footer. Besides, he isn't +small. He's as tall as I am." + +"I suppose he is. Dash, I've dropped my stud." + +Wyatt waited patiently till he had retrieved it. Then he returned to +the attack. + +"He's as good a bat as his brother, and a better field." + +"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." + +"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." + +Burgess hesitated. + +"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." + +Wyatt got up, and kicked the wall as a vent for his feelings. + +"You rotter," he said. "Can't you _see_ 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." + +Wyatt stopped for breath. + +"All right," said Burgess, "I'll think it over. Frightful gift of the +gab you've got, Wyatt." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE M.C.C. MATCH + + +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. + +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. + +He had almost reached the pavilion when one of the M.C.C. team came +down the steps, saw him, and stopped dead. + +"By Jove, Saunders!" cried Mike. + +"Why, Master Mike!" + +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. + +"Why, Master Mike, you don't mean to say you're playing for the school +already?" + +Mike nodded happily. + +"Isn't it ripping," he said. + +Saunders slapped his leg in a sort of ecstasy. + +"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." + +"Of course, I'm only playing as a sub., you know. Three chaps are in +extra, and I got one of the places." + +"Well, you'll make a hundred to-day, Master Mike, and then they'll +have to put you in." + +"Wish I could!" + +"Master Joe's come down with the Club," said Saunders. + +"Joe! Has he really? How ripping! Hullo, here he is. Hullo, Joe?" + +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. + +"Mike! You aren't playing!" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I'm hanged! Young marvel, isn't he, Saunders?" + +"He is, sir," said Saunders. "Got all the strokes. I always said it, +Master Joe. Only wants the strength." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Brother of yours?" asked the wicket-keeper. + +"Probably too proud to own the relationship, but he is." + +"Isn't there any end to you Jacksons?" demanded the wicket-keeper in +an aggrieved tone. "I never saw such a family." + +"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." + +"I _have_ won the toss," said the other with dignity. "Do you +think I don't know the elementary duties of a captain?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Burgess, however, was optimistic, as usual. "Better have a go for +them," he said to Berridge and Marsh, the school first pair. + +Following out this courageous advice, Berridge, after hitting three +boundaries in his first two overs, was stumped half-way through the +third. + +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. + +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. + +Then the great wicket-keeper took off the pads and gloves, and the +fieldsmen retired to posts at the extreme edge of the ground. + +"Lobs," said Burgess. "By Jove, I wish I was in." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bob Jackson went in next, with instructions to keep his eye on the +lob-man. + +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. + +Mike's heart jumped as he saw the bails go. It was his turn next. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"To leg, sir," said the umpire. + +"Don't be in a funk," said a voice. "Play straight, and you can't get +out." + +It was Joe, who had taken the gloves when the wicket-keeper went on to +bowl. + +Mike grinned, wryly but gratefully. + +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. + +Saunders ran to the crease, and bowled. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The lob bowler had taken himself off, and the Oxford Authentic had +gone on, fast left-hand. + +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. + +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. + +Mike walked away from the wickets with Joe and the wicket-keeper. + +"I'm sorry about your nose, Joe," said the wicket-keeper in tones of +grave solicitude. + +"What's wrong with it?" + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A SLIGHT IMBROGLIO + + +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 are. 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." + +Mike was a certainty now for the second. But it needed more than one +performance to secure the first cap. + +"I told you so," said Wyatt, naturally, to Burgess after the match. + +"He's not bad," said Burgess. "I'll give him another shot." + +But Burgess, as has been pointed out, was not a person who ever became +gushing with enthusiasm. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The following, _verbatim_, 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. + +"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." + +Mike departed, bursting with fury. + +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. + +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. + +"Come on," he shouted, prancing down the pitch. + +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. + +These are solemn moments. + +The only possible way of smoothing over an episode of this kind is for +the guilty man to grovel. + +Firby-Smith did not grovel. + +"Easy run there, you know," he said reprovingly. + +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. + +"Don't _laugh_, you grinning ape!" he cried. "It isn't funny." + +[Illustration: "DON'T _LAUGH_, YOU GRINNING APE"] + +He then made for the trees where the rest of the team were sitting. + +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. + +He avoided Mike on his return to the trees. And Mike, feeling now a +little apprehensive, avoided him. + +The Gazeka brooded apart for the rest of the afternoon, chewing the +insult. At close of play he sought Burgess. + +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. + +"I want to speak to you, Burgess," he said. + +"What's up?" said Burgess. + +"You know young Jackson in our house." + +"What about him?" + +"He's been frightfully insolent." + +"Cheeked you?" said Burgess, a man of simple speech. + +"I want you to call a prefects' meeting, and lick him." + +Burgess looked incredulous. + +"Rather a large order, a prefects' meeting," he said. "It has to be a +pretty serious sort of thing for that." + +"Frightful cheek to a school prefect is a serious thing," said +Firby-Smith, with the air of one uttering an epigram. + +"Well, I suppose--What did he say to you?" + +Firby-Smith related the painful details. + +Burgess started to laugh, but turned the laugh into a cough. + +"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." + +"He's frightfully conceited." + +"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." + +And the matter was left temporarily at that. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MIKE CREATES A VACANCY + + +Burgess walked off the ground feeling that fate was not using him +well. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Sportsman_ and _Field_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Busy, Bob?" he asked. + +"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?" + +"No, thanks. I say, Bob, look here, I want to see you." + +"Well, you can, can't you? This is me, sitting over here. The tall, +dark, handsome chap." + +"It's awfully awkward, you know," continued Burgess gloomily; "that +ass of a young brother of yours--Sorry, but he _is_ an ass, +though he's your brother----" + +"Thanks for the 'though,' Billy. You know how to put a thing nicely. +What's Mike been up to?" + +"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." + +Bob displayed interest and excitement for the first time. + +"Prefects' meeting! What the dickens is up? What's he been doing? +Smith must be drunk. What's all the row about?" + +Burgess repeated the main facts of the case as he had them from +Firby-Smith. + +"Personally, I sympathise with the kid," he added, "Still, the Gazeka +_is_ a prefect----" + +Bob gnawed a pen-holder morosely. + +"Silly young idiot," he said. + +"Sickening thing being run out," suggested Burgess. + +"Still----" + +"I know. It's rather hard to see what to do. I suppose if the Gazeka +insists, one's bound to support him." + +"I suppose so." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Burgess looked miserable. + +"I say, Bob," he said. + +"Yes?" + +"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. + +Bob went across to Wain's to interview and soothe Firby-Smith. + +He found that outraged hero sitting moodily in his study like Achilles +in his tent. + +Seeing Bob, he became all animation. + +"Look here," he said, "I wanted to see you. You know, that frightful +young brother of yours----" + +"I know, I know," said Bob. "Burgess was telling me. He wants +kicking." + +"He wants a frightful licking from the prefects," emended the +aggrieved party. + +"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." + +Firby-Smith looked a little blank at this. He had a great admiration +for Bob. + +"I didn't think of you," he said. + +"I thought you hadn't," said Bob. "You see it now, though, don't you?" + +Firby-Smith returned to the original grievance. + +"Well, you know, it was frightful cheek." + +"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?" + +"All right. After all, I did run him out." + +"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." + +"No. All right then." + +"Thanks," said Bob, and went to find Mike. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I say," said Burton, "I'm jolly glad you're playing for the first +against Geddington." + +"Thanks," said Mike. + +"I'm specially glad for one reason." + +"What's that?" inquired Mike, without interest. + +"Because your beast of a brother has been chucked out. He'd have been +playing but for you." + +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. + +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 +_all_ beasts. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Come in!" yelled the captain. "Hullo!" + +"I'm awfully sorry, Burgess," said Mike. "I've crocked my wrist a +bit." + +"How did you do that? You were all right at the nets?" + +"Slipped as I was changing," said Mike stolidly. + +"Is it bad?" + +"Nothing much. I'm afraid I shan't be able to play to-morrow." + +"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?" + +"Oh, yes, rather." + +"Hope so, anyway." + +"Thanks. Good-night." + +"Good-night." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AN EXPERT EXAMINATION + + +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. + +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. + +His telegram arrived during morning school. Mike went down to the +station to meet him after lunch. + +Uncle John took command of the situation at once. + +"School playing anybody to-day, Mike? I want to see a match." + +"They're playing Geddington. Only it's away. There's a second match +on." + +"Why aren't you--Hullo, I didn't see. What have you been doing to +yourself?" + +"Crocked my wrist a bit. It's nothing much." + +"How did you do that?" + +"Slipped while I was changing after cricket." + +"Hurt?" + +"Not much, thanks." + +"Doctor seen it?" + +"No. But it's really nothing. Be all right by Monday." + +"H'm. Somebody ought to look at it. I'll have a look later on." + +Mike did not appear to relish this prospect. + +"It isn't anything, Uncle John, really. It doesn't matter a bit." + +"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?" + +"I shouldn't be able to steer." + +"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." + +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! + +"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. + +"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." + +Uncle John detected the envious note. + +"I suppose you would have been playing here but for your wrist?" + +"No, I was playing for the first." + +"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?" + +"Depends on Bob." + +"Has Bob got your place?" + +Mike nodded. + +"If he does well to-day, they'll probably keep him in." + +"Isn't there room for both of you?" + +"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." + +"Rather awkward, that." + +"Still, it's Bob's last year. I've got plenty of time. But I wish I +could get in this year." + +After they had watched the match for an hour, Uncle John's restless +nature asserted itself. + +"Suppose we go for a pull on the river now?" he suggested. + +They got up. + +"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." + +Apparently Bob had not had a chance yet of distinguishing himself. The +telegram read, "Geddington 151 for four. Lunch." + +"Not bad that," said Mike. "But I believe they're weak in bowling." + +They walked down the road towards the school landing-stage. + +"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." + +"Pull your left," said Mike. "That willow's what you want." + +Uncle John looked over his shoulder, caught a crab, recovered himself, +and steered the boat in under the shade of the branches. + +"Put the rope over that stump. Can you manage with one hand? Here, let +me--Done it? Good. A-ah!" + +He blew a great cloud of smoke into the air, and sighed contentedly. + +"I hope you don't smoke, Mike?" + +"No." + +"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." + +A hunted expression came into Mike's eyes. + +"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. + +To Mike it seemed as if everything in the world was standing still and +waiting. He could hear nothing but his own breathing. + +His uncle pressed the wrist gingerly once or twice, then gave it a +little twist. + +"That hurt?" he asked. + +"Ye--no," stammered Mike. + +Uncle John looked up sharply. Mike was crimson. + +"What's the game?" inquired Uncle John. + +Mike said nothing. + +There was a twinkle in his uncle's eyes. + +"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?" + +Mike hesitated. + +"I only wanted to get out of having to write this morning. There was +an exam, on." + +The idea had occurred to him just before he spoke. It had struck him +as neat and plausible. + +To Uncle John it did not appear in the same light. + +"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." + +When in doubt, one may as well tell the truth. Mike told it. + +"I know. It wasn't that, really. Only----" + +"Well?" + +"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." + +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.) + +"Swear you won't tell him. He'd be most frightfully sick if he knew." + +"I won't tell him." + +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.... + +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. + +"Jove, I was nearly asleep. What's the time? Just on six? Didn't know +it was so late." + +"I ought to be getting back soon, I think. Lock-up's at half-past." + +"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." + +"There'll be another telegram, I should think," said Mike, as they +reached the school gates. + +"Shall we go and look?" + +They walked to the shop. + +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. + +It ran as follows: + + "Geddington 247 (Burgess six wickets, Neville-Smith four). + Wrykyn 270 for nine (Berridge 86, Marsh 58, Jackson 48)." + +Mike worked his way back through the throng, and rejoined his uncle. + +"Well?" said Uncle John. + +"We won." + +He paused for a moment. + +"Bob made forty-eight," he added carelessly. + +Uncle John felt in his pocket, and silently slid a sovereign into +Mike's hand. + +It was the only possible reply. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +ANOTHER VACANCY + + +Wyatt got back late that night, arriving at the dormitory as Mike was +going to bed. + +"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?" + +"Oh, better, thanks." + +Wyatt began to undress. + +"Any colours?" asked Mike after a pause. First eleven colours were +generally given in the pavilion after a match or on the journey home. + +"No. Only one or two thirds. Jenkins and Clephane, and another chap, +can't remember who. No first, though." + +"What was Bob's innings like?" + +"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." + +"I should have thought they'd have given him his colours." + +"Most captains would have done, only Burgess is so keen on fielding +that he rather keeps off it." + +"Why, did he field badly?" + +"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." + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Directness was always one of Burgess's leading qualities. + +"Look here, Bob. About your fielding. It's simply awful." + +Bob was all remorse. + +"It's those beastly slip catches. I can't time them." + +"That one yesterday was right into your hands. Both of them were." + +"I know. I'm frightfully sorry." + +"Well, but I mean, why _can't_ 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." + +"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." + +"Second be blowed! I want your batting in the first. Do you think +you'd really do better in the deep?" + +"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." + +"All right then. Try it." + +The conversation turned to less pressing topics. + + * * * * * + +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. + +As for Mike, he played for the second, and hoped for the day. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Among these was one Leather-Twigg, of Seymour's, better known in +criminal circles as Shoeblossom. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Punch_, sucked oranges, and thought of Life. + +Two days later Barry felt queer. He, too, disappeared from Society. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +BOB HAS NEWS TO IMPART + + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Tea?" + +"Tea!" said Neville-Smith scornfully. + +"Well, what then?" + +"Don't you ever have feeds in the dorms. after lights-out in the +houses?" + +"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?" + +"Eleven suit you?" + +"All right." + +"How about getting out?" + +"I'll do it as quickly as the team did to-day. I can't say more than +that." + +"You were all right." + +"I'm an exceptional sort of chap." + +"What about the Jacksons?" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Not seen much of each other lately, Mike, what?" + +Mike murmured unintelligibly through a mouthful of bread-and-jam. + +"It's no good pretending it isn't an awkward situation," continued +Bob, "because it is. Beastly awkward." + +"Awful rot the pater sending us to the same school." + +"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." + +"You get on much better in the deep." + +"Bit better, yes. Liable at any moment to miss a sitter, though. Not +that it matters much really whether I do now." + +Mike stared. + +"What! Why?" + +"That's what I wanted to see you about. Has Burgess said anything to +you yet?" + +"No. Why? What about?" + +"Well, I've a sort of idea our little race is over. I fancy you've +won." + +"I've not heard a word----" + +"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 _Wrykynian_ +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_ 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.'" + +"Oh, rot," muttered Mike, wiping the sweat off his forehead. This was +one of the most harrowing interviews he had ever been through. + +"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." + +Mike looked at the floor, and said nothing. + +There was nothing much to _be_ said. + +"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." + +It was the custom at Wrykyn, when you congratulated a man on getting +colours, to shake his hand. They shook hands. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In this fermenting state Mike went into the house. + +The list of the team to play for Wain's _v_. 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. + + "All the above will turn out for house-fielding at 6.30 to-morrow + morning.--W. F.-S." + +"Oh, dash it," said Mike, "what rot! Why on earth can't he leave us +alone!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +MIKE GOES TO SLEEP AGAIN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mike thought he would take another minute. + +And during that minute there floated into his mind the question, Who +_was_ Firby-Smith? That was the point. Who _was_ he, after all? + +This started quite a new train of thought. Previously Mike had firmly +intended to get up--some time. Now he began to waver. + +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. + +Was this right, he asked himself. Was this proper? + +And the hands of the watch moved round to twenty to. + +What was the matter with his fielding? _It_ was all right. Make +the rest of the team fag about, yes. But not a chap who, dash it all, +had got his first _for_ fielding! + +It was with almost a feeling of self-righteousness that Mike turned +over on his side and went to sleep again. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Firby-Smith straightened his tie, and glared. + +"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?" + +Mike admitted that he had seen the notice. + +"Then you frightful kid, what do you mean by it? What?" + +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 _was_ a toothy weed; but he felt a firm conviction that +it would not be politic to say so. + +Happy thought: over-slept himself. + +He mentioned this. + +"Over-slept yourself! You must jolly well not over-sleep yourself. +What do you mean by over-sleeping yourself?" + +Very trying this sort of thing. + +"What time did you wake up?" + +"Six," said Mike. + +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. + +"Six!" + +"Five past." + +"Why didn't you get up then?" + +"I went to sleep again." + +"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." + +"I don't," said Mike indignantly. + +"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?" + +Mike said nothing. + +"Do--you--see, you frightful kid?" + +[Illustration: "DO--YOU--SEE, YOU FRIGHTFUL KID?"] + +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. + +Firby-Smith's manner became ominously calm. He produced a +swagger-stick from a corner. + +"Do you see?" he asked again. + +Mike's jaw set more tightly. + +What one really wants here is a row of stars. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +He left the dormitory, and Mike began to brood over his wrongs once +more. + +Wyatt came back, brandishing a jug of water and a glass. + +"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!" + +He put down the glass, and surveyed Mike, who had maintained a moody +silence throughout this speech. + +"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?" + +"It's only that ass Firby-Smith." + +"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." + +"He said I stuck on side." + +"Why?" + +"I don't know." + +"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?" + +"It was the house-fielding." + +"But you can't stick on side at house-fielding. I defy any one to. +It's too early in the morning." + +"I didn't turn up." + +"What! Why?" + +"Oh, I don't know." + +"No, but, look here, really. Did you simply bunk it?" + +"Yes." + +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. + +"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!'" + +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. + +"Nothing like this old '87 water," he said. "Such body." + +"I like you jawing about discipline," said Mike morosely. + +"And why, my gentle che-ild, should I not talk about discipline?" + +"Considering you break out of the house nearly every night." + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE TEAM IS FILLED UP + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Doctor Oakes thinks he will be back in school on Tuesday." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Bob got to it with one hand, and held it. His impetus carried him on +almost to where Burgess was standing. + +"Well held," said Burgess. + +"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. + +"I couldn't get both hands to it," he explained. + +"You're hot stuff in the deep." + +"Easy when you're only practising." + +"I've just been to the Infirmary." + +"Oh. How's Marsh?" + +"They wouldn't let me see him, but it's all right. He'll be able to +play on Saturday." + +"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. + +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. + +Then the Jekyll and Hyde business completed itself. He suppressed his +personal feelings, and became the cricket captain again. + +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. + +"What's up?" inquired Burgess. + +"Young Jackson, do you mean? Oh, nothing. I was only telling him that +there was going to be house-fielding to-morrow before breakfast." + +"Didn't he like the idea?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +He felt that he had been deceived in Mike. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +The crowd that collected the moment Burgess had walked off carried him +right up to the board. + +He looked at the paper. + +"Hard luck!" said somebody. + +Mike scarcely heard him. + +He felt physically sick with the shock of the disappointment. For the +initial before the name Jackson was R. + +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. + +Bob had beaten him on the tape. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MARJORY THE FRANK + + +At the door of the senior block Burgess, going out, met Bob coming in, +hurrying, as he was rather late. + +"Congratulate you, Bob," he said; and passed on. + +Bob stared after him. As he stared, Trevor came out of the block. + +"Congratulate you, Bob." + +"What's the matter now?" + +"Haven't you seen?" + +"Seen what?" + +"Why the list. You've got your first." + +"My--what? you're rotting." + +"No, I'm not. Go and look." + +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. + +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. + +"Congratulate you, Bob," he said awkwardly. + +"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. + +There was a short silence. + +"Jolly glad you've got it," said Mike. + +"I believe there's a mistake. I swear I heard Burgess say to Spence----" + +"He changed his mind probably. No reason why he shouldn't." + +"Well, it's jolly rummy." + +Bob endeavoured to find consolation. + +"Anyhow, you'll have three years in the first. You're a cert. for next +year." + +"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. + +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. + +"Heard from home lately?" inquired Mike. + +Bob snatched gladly at the subject. + +"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." + +"Thanks. It'll be something to do during Math." + +"Marjory wrote, too, for the first time in her life. Haven't had time +to look at it yet." + +"After you. Sure it isn't meant for me? She owes me a letter." + +"No, it's for me all right. I'll give it you in the interval." + +The arrival of the headmaster put an end to the conversation. + + * * * * * + +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. + +He was doing this in a literal as well as in a figurative sense when +Bob entered the school shop. + +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. + +"Hullo," said Mike amiably. "Got that letter?" + +"Yes. I'll show it you outside." + +"Why not here?" + +"Come on." + +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.' + +Bob led the way across the gravel and on to the first terrace. When +they had left the crowd behind, he stopped. + +"What's up?" asked Mike. + +"I want you to read----" + +"Jackson!" + +They both turned. The headmaster was standing on the edge of the +gravel. + +Bob pushed the letter into Mike's hands. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + + "DEAR BOB" (the letter ran),-- + + "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, + + "From your affectionate sister + + "Marjory." + +There followed a P.S. + + "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 _the_ + 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? + + "M. + + "P.P.S.--This has been a frightful fag to write." + +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 _ass_! 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! + +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. + +"Well?" said Bob. + +"How do you mean?" said Mike. + +"Did you read it?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, is it all rot, or did you--you know what I mean--sham a crocked +wrist?" + +"Yes," said Mike, "I did." + +Bob stared gloomily at his toes. + +"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 if +_for_? 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." + +"I didn't think you'd ever know. You wouldn't have if only that ass +Uncle John hadn't let it out." + +"How did he get to know? Why did you tell him?" + +"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." + +Bob scratched thoughtfully at the turf with a spike of his boot. + +"Of course, it was awfully decent----" + +Then again the monstrous nature of the affair came home to him. + +"But what did you do it _for_? Why should you rot up your own +chances to give me a look in?" + +"Oh, I don't know.... You know, you did _me_ a jolly good turn." + +"I don't remember. When?" + +"That Firby-Smith business." + +"What about it?" + +"Well, you got me out of a jolly bad hole." + +"Oh, rot! And do you mean to tell me it was simply because of that----?" + +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. + +"Anyhow, it's all over now," Mike said, "so I don't see what's the +point of talking about it." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +The hopelessness of the situation came over Bob like a wave. He looked +helplessly at Mike. + +"Besides," added Mike, "I shall get in next year all right. Half a +second, I just want to speak to Wyatt about something." + +He sidled off. + +"Well, anyhow," said Bob to himself, "I must see Burgess about it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +WYATT IS REMINDED OF AN ENGAGEMENT + + +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. + +To-day's Great Thought for Young Readers. Imitate this man. + +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. + +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. + +"Very rum," Bob agreed. "Still, what you say doesn't help us out much, +seeing that the point is, what's to be done?" + +"Why do anything?" + +Burgess was a philosopher, and took the line of least resistance, like +the man in the oak-tree. + +"But I must do something," said Bob. "Can't you see how rotten it is +for me?" + +"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 _are_, in it. +What's he got to grumble about?" + +"He's not grumbling. It's me." + +"What's the matter with you? Don't you want your first?" + +"Not like this. Can't you see what a rotten position it is for me?" + +"Don't you worry. You simply keep on saying you're all right. Besides, +what do you want me to do? Alter the list?" + +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 _not_ 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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You know perfectly well Mike's every bit as good as me." + +"He isn't so keen." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Fielding. He's a young slacker." + +When Burgess had once labelled a man as that, he did not readily let +the idea out of his mind. + +"Slacker? What rot! He's as keen as anything." + +"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." + +"Smith oughtn't to have told you." + +"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." + +"Oh, all right," said Bob. "I was afraid you mightn't be able to do +anything. So long." + +"Mind the step," said Burgess. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Thanks," said Neville-Smith, with a brilliant display of front teeth. + +"Feeling good?" + +"Not the word for it. I feel like--I don't know what." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Delighted. Anything for a free feed in these hard times. What time +did you say it was?" + +"Eleven. Make it a bit earlier, if you like." + +"No, eleven'll do me all right." + +"How are you going to get out?" + +"'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." + +"They ought to allow you a latch-key." + +"Yes, I've often thought of asking my pater for one. Still, I get on +very well. Who are coming besides me?" + +"No boarders. They all funked it." + +"The race is degenerating." + +"Said it wasn't good enough." + +"The school is going to the dogs. Who did you ask?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"You _will_ turn up, won't you?" + +"Nothing shall stop me." + +"Good man." + +As Wyatt was turning away, a sudden compunction seized upon +Neville-Smith. He called him back. + +"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." + +"Oh, that's all right," said Wyatt. "Don't you worry about me. I +should have gone out anyhow to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A SURPRISE FOR MR. APPLEBY + + +"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." + +Mike could not help thinking that for himself it was the very reverse, +but he did not state his view of the case. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Are you going?" + +"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." + +"When are you going to start?" + +"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." + +"Don't go getting caught." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He dropped cautiously into Appleby's garden, ran lightly across it, +and was in the lane within a minute. + +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. + +"What a night!" he said to himself, sniffing as he walked. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was just feeling for his matches to relight it when Wyatt dropped +with a slight thud into his favourite herbaceous border. + +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. + +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 _via_ 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. + +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. + +At this point it began to strike him that the episode affected him as +a schoolmaster also. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This was the conclusion to which Mr. Appleby came over his relighted +pipe. He could not let the matter rest where it was. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Can I have a word with you, Wain?" he said. + +"Appleby! Is there anything the matter? I was startled when you +tapped. Exceedingly so." + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +CAUGHT + + +"Got some rather bad news for you, I'm afraid," began Mr. Appleby. +"I'll smoke, if you don't mind. About Wyatt." + +"James!" + +"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." + +Mr. Appleby said this with a tinge of bitterness. The thing still +rankled. + +"James! In your garden! Impossible. Why, it is not a quarter of an +hour since I left him in his dormitory." + +"He's not there now." + +"You astound me, Appleby. I am astonished." + +"So was I." + +"How is such a thing possible? His window is heavily barred." + +"Bars can be removed." + +"You must have been mistaken." + +"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." + +"No, sit down, Appleby. Dear me, this is most extraordinary. +Exceedingly so. You are certain it was James?" + +"Perfectly. It's like daylight out of doors." + +Mr. Wain drummed on the table with his fingers. + +"What shall I do?" + +Mr. Appleby offered no suggestion. + +"I ought to report it to the headmaster. That is certainly the course +I should pursue." + +"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." + +"There is certainly something in what you say," said Mr. Wain on +reflection. + +"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." + +"I will. Yes. You are quite right, Appleby. That is a very good idea +of yours. You are not going?" + +"Must. Got a pile of examination papers to look over. Good-night." + +"Good-night." + +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 +_he_ 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. + +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.... + +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. + +He took a candle, and walked quietly upstairs. + +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. + +If further proof had been needed, one of the bars was missing from the +window. The moon shone in through the empty space. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Wain had arrived at this conclusion, and was beginning to feel a +little cramped, when Mike Jackson suddenly sat up. + +"Hullo!" said Mike. + +"Go to sleep, Jackson, immediately," snapped the house-master. + +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. + +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 _him_ (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! + +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 +_coup_. The most brilliant of _coups_ could effect nothing now. +Absolutely and entirely the game was up. + + * * * * * + +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. + +At that moment Mr. Wain relit his candle. + +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. + +"James!" said Mr. Wain. His voice sounded ominously hollow. + +Wyatt dusted his knees, and rubbed his hands together. "Hullo, is that +you, father!" he said pleasantly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MARCHING ORDERS + + +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. + +"You have been out, James?" + +It is curious how in the more dramatic moments of life the inane +remark is the first that comes to us. + +"Yes, sir," said Wyatt. + +"I am astonished. Exceedingly astonished." + +"I got a bit of a start myself," said Wyatt. + +"I shall talk to you in my study. Follow me there." + +"Yes, sir." + +He left the room, and Wyatt suddenly began to chuckle. + +"I say, Wyatt!" said Mike, completely thrown off his balance by the +events of the night. + +Wyatt continued to giggle helplessly. He flung himself down on his +bed, rolling with laughter. Mike began to get alarmed. + +"It's all right," said Wyatt at last, speaking with difficulty. "But, +I say, how long had he been sitting there?" + +"It seemed hours. About an hour, I suppose, really." + +"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!" + +"But look here, what'll happen?" + +Wyatt sat up. + +"That reminds me. Suppose I'd better go down." + +"What'll he do, do you think?" + +"Ah, now, what!" + +"But, I say, it's awful. What'll happen?" + +"That's for him to decide. Speaking at a venture, I should say----" + +"You don't think----?" + +"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 _Wisden_. That'll be me. Well, +I suppose I'd better go down. We'd better all get to bed _some_ +time to-night. Don't go to sleep." + +"Not likely." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +In the study Mr. Wain was fumbling restlessly with his papers when +Wyatt appeared. + +"Sit down, James," he said. + +Wyatt sat down. One of his slippers fell off with a clatter. Mr. Wain +jumped nervously. + +"Only my slipper," explained Wyatt. "It slipped." + +Mr. Wain took up a pen, and began to tap the table. + +"Well, James?" + +Wyatt said nothing. + +"I should be glad to hear your explanation of this disgraceful +matter." + +"The fact is----" said Wyatt. + +"Well?" + +"I haven't one, sir." + +"What were you doing out of your dormitory, out of the house, at that +hour?" + +"I went for a walk, sir." + +"And, may I inquire, are you in the habit of violating the strictest +school rules by absenting yourself from the house during the night?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"What?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"This is an exceedingly serious matter." + +Wyatt nodded agreement with this view. + +"Exceedingly." + +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. + +"I wish you wouldn't do that, father. Tap like that, I mean. It's +sending me to sleep." + +"James!" + +"It's like a woodpecker." + +"Studied impertinence----" + +"I'm very sorry. Only it _was_ sending me off." + +Mr. Wain suspended tapping operations, and resumed the thread of his +discourse. + +"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----" + +"No, sir." + +"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." + +"Of course," said Wyatt, approvingly. + +"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?" + +"The sack," said Wyatt laconically. + +"It is expulsion. You must leave the school. At once." + +Wyatt nodded. + +"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----" + +"After all, they only gain an extra fortnight of me." + +"You will leave directly I receive his letter. I shall arrange with +the headmaster that you are withdrawn privately----" + +"_Not_ the sack?" + +"Withdrawn privately. You will not go to school to-morrow. Do you +understand? That is all. Have you anything to say?" + +Wyatt reflected. + +"No, I don't think----" + +His eye fell on a tray bearing a decanter and a syphon. + +"Oh, yes," he said. "Can't I mix you a whisky and soda, father, before +I go off to bed?" + + * * * * * + +"Well?" said Mike. + +Wyatt kicked off his slippers, and began to undress. + +"What happened?" + +"We chatted." + +"Has he let you off?" + +"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." + +Mike was miserably silent. + +"Buck up," said Wyatt cheerfully. "It would have happened anyhow in +another fortnight. So why worry?" + +Mike was still silent. The reflection was doubtless philosophic, but +it failed to comfort him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE AFTERMATH + + +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. + +"Anybody seen young--oh, here you are. What's all this about Jimmy +Wyatt? They're saying he's been sacked, or some rot." + +[Illustration: "WHAT'S ALL THIS ABOUT JIMMY WYATT?"] + +"So he has--at least, he's got to leave." + +"What? When?" + +"He's left already. He isn't coming to school again." + +Burgess's first thought, as befitted a good cricket captain, was for +his team. + +"And the Ripton match on Saturday!" + +Nobody seemed to have anything except silent sympathy at his command. + +"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!" + +"Beastly," agreed Mike. + +"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." + +"All right," said Mike, without enthusiasm. The Wyatt disaster was too +recent for him to feel much pleasure at playing against Ripton +_vice_ his friend, withdrawn. + +Bob was the next to interview him. They met in the cloisters. + +"Hullo, Mike!" said Bob. "I say, what's all this about Wyatt?" + +"Wain caught him getting back into the dorm. last night after +Neville-Smith's, and he's taken him away from the school." + +"What's he going to do? Going into that bank straight away?" + +"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." + +"He'll find it rather a change, I expect. I suppose you won't be +seeing him before he goes?" + +"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." + +"I should like to say good-bye. But I don't suppose it'll be +possible." + +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. + +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. + +"I say, Jackson, is this true about old Wyatt?" + +Mike nodded. + +"What happened?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Mike. + +"It was absolutely my fault." + +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. + +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. + +"What's up?" asked Bob. + +"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?" + +"What's happened now?" + +"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." + +"Neville-Smith! Why, what's he been doing?" + +"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." + +"And the Old Man shoved him in extra?" + +"Next two Saturdays." + +"Are Ripton strong this year?" asked Bob, for lack of anything better +to say. + +"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." + +"Oh, well, you never know what's going to happen at cricket. I may +hold a catch for a change." + +Burgess grunted. + +Bob went on his way to the nets. Mike was just putting on his pads. + +"I say, Mike," said Bob. "I wanted to see you. It's about Wyatt. I've +thought of something." + +"What's that?" + +"A way of getting him out of that bank. If it comes off, that's to +say." + +"By Jove, he'd jump at anything. What's the idea?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE RIPTON MATCH + + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Mr. Wyatt?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"H'm ... Sportsman?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Cricketer?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Play football?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"H'm ... Racquets?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Everything?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"H'm ... Well, you won't get any more of it now." + +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 _Wrykynian_, +'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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Burgess, inspecting the wicket with Mr. Spence during the quarter to +eleven interval, was not slow to recognise this fact. + +"I should win the toss to-day, if I were you, Burgess," said Mr. +Spence. + +"Just what I was thinking, sir." + +"That wicket's going to get nasty after lunch, if the sun comes out. A +regular Rhodes wicket it's going to be." + +"I wish we _had_ Rhodes," said Burgess. "Or even Wyatt. It would +just suit him, this." + +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. + +"Who will go on first with you, Burgess?" + +"Who do you think, sir? Ellerby? It might be his wicket." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I should. And, above all, win the toss." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"We'll go in first, Mac," said Burgess, as they met on the pavilion +steps after they had changed. + +"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." + +"Heads." + +"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." + +"You'll put us in, I suppose?" + +"Yes--after us." + +"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." + +And Burgess went off to tell the ground-man to have plenty of sawdust +ready, as he would want the field paved with it. + + * * * * * + +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. + +So Ripton went in to hit. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +So far it was anybody's game. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +MIKE WINS HOME + + +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. + +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 _dénouement_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +The Ripton total was a hundred and sixty-six. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And in five minutes this had changed to a dull gloom. + +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. + +"It's that googly man," said Burgess blankly. + +"What's happened?" shouted a voice from the interior of the first +eleven room. + +"Morris is out." + +"Good gracious! How?" asked Ellerby, emerging from the room with one +pad on his leg and the other in his hand. + +"L.-b.-w. First ball." + +"My aunt! Who's in next? Not me?" + +"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. + +"Thought the thing was going to break, but it didn't." + +"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. + +"That chap'll have Berry, if he doesn't look out," he said. + +But Berridge survived the ordeal. He turned his first ball to leg for +a single. + +This brought Marsh to the batting end; and the second tragedy +occurred. + +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 _débris_ 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. + +A silence that could be felt brooded over the pavilion. + +The voice of the scorer, addressing from his little wooden hut the +melancholy youth who was working the telegraph-board, broke it. + +"One for two. Last man duck." + +Ellerby echoed the remark. He got up, and took off his blazer. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bob was the next man in. + +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. + +"You in next?" asked Ellerby. + +Mike nodded. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +The same idea apparently occurred to Burgess. He came to where Mike +was sitting. + +"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." + +"All right," said Mike. He was not quite sure whether he was glad or +sorry at the respite. + +"It's a pity old Wyatt isn't here," said Ellerby. "This is just the +sort of time when he might have come off." + +"Bob's broken his egg," said Mike. + +"Good man. Every little helps.... Oh, you silly ass, get _back_!" + +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. + +"Forty-one for four," said Ellerby. "Help!" + +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, _fortissimo_, 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. + +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. + +The melancholy youth put up the figures, 54, 5, 12, on the board. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"'S that?" shouted mid-on. Mid-on has a habit of appealing for +l.-b.-w. in school matches. + +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. + +The umpire shook his head. Mid-on tried to look as if he had not +spoken. + +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. + +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. + +Bob played out the over with elaborate care. + +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. + +"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." + +"You ass," said Berridge. "Don't say that, or he's certain to get +out." + +Berridge was one of those who are skilled in cricket superstitions. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was not kept long in suspense. De Freece's first ball made a +hideous wreck of his wicket. + +"Over," said the umpire. + +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.... + +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." + +"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. + +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. + +Mike took them. + +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. + +The last ball of the over he mishit. It rolled in the direction of +third man. + +"Come on," shouted Grant. + +Mike and the ball arrived at the opposite wicket almost +simultaneously. Another fraction of a second, and he would have been +run out. + +[Illustration: MIKE AND THE BALL ARRIVED ALMOST SIMULTANEOUSLY] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +That over was an experience Mike never forgot. + +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. + +Devenish came in to take the last ball of the over. + +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. + +The only person unmoved seemed to be de Freece. His smile was even +more amiable than usual as he began his run. + +The next moment the crisis was past. The ball hit the very centre of +Devenish's bat, and rolled back down the pitch. + +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. + +It seemed almost an anti-climax when a four to leg and two two's +through the slips settled the thing. + + * * * * * + +Devenish was caught and bowled in de Freece's next over; but the +Wrykyn total was one hundred and seventy-two. + + * * * * * + +"Good game," said Maclaine, meeting Burgess in the pavilion. "Who was +the man who made all the runs? How many, by the way?" + +"Eighty-three. It was young Jackson. Brother of the other one." + +"That family! How many more of them are you going to have here?" + +"He's the last. I say, rough luck on de Freece. He bowled rippingly." + +Politeness to a beaten foe caused Burgess to change his usual "not +bad." + +"The funny part of it is," continued he, "that young Jackson was only +playing as a sub." + +"You've got a rum idea of what's funny," said Maclaine. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +WYATT AGAIN + + +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. + +"I've had a letter from MacPherson," said Mr. Jackson. + +MacPherson was the vigorous and persevering gentleman, referred to in +a previous chapter, who kept a fatherly eye on the Buenos Ayres sheep. + +"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." + +"Has he been fighting a duel?" asked Marjory, interested. + +"Bushrangers," said Phyllis. + +"There aren't any bushrangers in Buenos Ayres," said Ella. + +"How do you know?" said Phyllis clinchingly. + +"Bush-ray, bush-ray, bush-ray," began Gladys Maud, conversationally, +through the bread-and-milk; but was headed off. + +"He gives no details. Perhaps that letter on Mike's plate supplies +them. I see it comes from Buenos Ayres." + +"I wish Mike would come and open it," said Marjory. "Shall I go and +hurry him up?" + +The missing member of the family entered as she spoke. + +"Buck up, Mike," she shouted. "There's a letter from Wyatt. He's been +wounded in a duel." + +"With a bushranger," added Phyllis. + +"Bush-ray," explained Gladys Maud. + +"Is there?" said Mike. "Sorry I'm late." + +He opened the letter and began to read. + +"What does he say?" inquired Marjory. "Who was the duel with?" + +"How many bushrangers were there?" asked Phyllis. + +Mike read on. + +"Good old Wyatt! He's shot a man." + +"Killed him?" asked Marjory excitedly. + +"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....'" + +"By Jove!" said Mike. + +"What a dreadful thing!" said Mrs. Jackson. + +"Anyhow, it was practically a bushranger," said Phyllis. + +"I told you it was a duel, and so it was," said Marjory. + +"What a terrible experience for the poor boy!" said Mrs. Jackson. + +"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?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND + + +Two years have elapsed and Mike is home again for the Easter holidays. + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo, Mike," she said, jumping up as he entered; "here you are--I've +been keeping everything hot for you." + +"Have you? Thanks awfully. I say--" his eye wandered in mild surprise +round the table. "I'm a bit late." + +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. + +Phyllis and Ella finished their dispute and went out. Marjory sat on +the table and watched Mike eat. + +"Your report came this morning, Mike," she said. + +The kidneys failed to retain Mike's undivided attention. He looked up +interested. "What did it say?" + +"I didn't see--I only caught sight of the Wrykyn crest on the +envelope. Father didn't say anything." + +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." + +"It can't be any worse than the horrid ones Mr. Blake used to write +when you were in his form." + +"No, that's a comfort," said Mike philosophically. "Think there's any +more tea in that pot?" + +"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." + +"Last summer he said he'd take me away if I got another one." + +"He didn't mean it really, I _know_ he didn't! He couldn't! +You're the best bat Wrykyn's ever had." + +"What ho!" interpolated Mike. + +"You _are_. 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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I wish I wasn't; it's a beastly responsibility." + +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. + +As he was walking towards the house, Phyllis met him. "Oh, I've been +hunting for you, Mike; father wants you." + +"What for?" + +"I don't know." + +"Where?" + +"He's in the study. He seems--" added Phyllis, throwing in the +information by way of a make-weight, "in a beastly wax." + +Mike's jaw fell slightly. "I hope the dickens it's nothing to do with +that bally report," was his muttered exclamation. + +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 _résumé_ 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. + +It was with a certain amount of apprehension, therefore, that Jackson +entered the study. + +"Come in, Mike," said his father, kicking the waste-paper basket; "I +want to speak to you." + +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. + +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. + +"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----" + +"Never mind about cricket now," said Mr. Jackson; "I want you to +listen to this report." + +"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. + +"It is," replied Mr. Jackson in measured tones, "your report; what is +more, it is without exception the worst report you have ever had." + +"Oh, I say!" groaned the record-breaker. + +"'His conduct,'" quoted Mr. Jackson, "'has been unsatisfactory in the +extreme, both in and out of school.'" + +"It wasn't anything really. I only happened----" + +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. + +"'French bad; conduct disgraceful----'" + +"Everybody rags in French." + +"'Mathematics bad. Inattentive and idle.'" + +"Nobody does much work in Math." + +"'Latin poor. Greek, very poor.'" + +"We were doing Thucydides, Book Two, last term--all speeches and +doubtful readings, and cruxes and things--beastly hard! Everybody says +so." + +"Here are Mr. Appleby's remarks: 'The boy has genuine ability, which +he declines to use in the smallest degree.'" + +Mike moaned a moan of righteous indignation. + +"'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." + +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. + +"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. + +Mike said nothing; there was a sinking feeling in his interior. + +"I shall abide by what I said." + +Mike's heart thumped. + +"You will not go back to Wrykyn next term." + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Jackson was sorry for Mike. He understood him, and for that reason +he said very little now. + +"I am sending you to Sedleigh," was his next remark. + +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 _play_ cricket! + +"But it's an awful hole," he said blankly. + +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. + +"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. + +"Mr. Barlitt speaks very highly of Sedleigh," added Mr. Jackson. + +Mike said nothing, which was a good deal better than saying what he +would have liked to have said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +SEDLEIGH + + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Young gents at the school, sir," said the porter, perceiving from +Mike's _distrait_ air that the boy was a stranger to the place, +"goes up in the 'bus mostly. It's waiting here, sir. Hi, George!" + +"I'll walk, thanks," said Mike frigidly. + +"It's a goodish step, sir." + +"Here you are." + +"Thank you, sir. I'll send up your luggage by the 'bus, sir. Which +'ouse was it you was going to?" + +"Outwood's." + +"Right, sir. It's straight on up this road to the school. You can't +miss it, sir." + +"Worse luck," said Mike. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This must be Sedleigh. + +Ten minutes' walk brought him to the school gates, and a baker's boy +directed him to Mr. Outwood's. + +There were three houses in a row, separated from the school buildings +by a cricket-field. Outwood's was the middle one of these. + +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. + +He inquired for Mr. Outwood, and was shown into a room lined with +books. Presently the door opened, and the house-master appeared. + +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. + +"Jackson?" he said mildly. + +"Yes, sir." + +"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?" + +Mike, who would not have recognised a Cluniac Priory if you had handed +him one on a tray, said he had not. + +"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----" + +"Shall I go across to the boys' part, sir?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo," he said. + +He spoke in a tired voice. + +"Hullo," said Mike. + +"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?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +PSMITH + + +"Jackson," said Mike. + +"Are you the Bully, the Pride of the School, or the Boy who is Led +Astray and takes to Drink in Chapter Sixteen?" + +"The last, for choice," said Mike, "but I've only just arrived, so I +don't know." + +"The boy--what will he become? Are you new here, too, then?" + +"Yes! Why, are you new?" + +"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?" + +Mike said he saw. Psmith thanked him with a certain stately old-world +courtesy. + +"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 rye 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." + +"No?" said Mike. + +"No. I was superannuated last term." + +"Bad luck." + +"For Eton, yes. But what Eton loses, Sedleigh gains." + +"But why Sedleigh, of all places?" + +"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----" + +"Not Barlitt!" exclaimed Mike. + +"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 _you_ know Barlitt?" + +"His pater's vicar of our village. It was because his son got a +Balliol that I was sent here." + +"Do you come from Crofton?" + +"Yes." + +"I've lived at Lower Benford all my life. We are practically long-lost +brothers. Cheer a little, will you?" + +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. + +"Where were you before you came here?" asked Psmith. "You have heard +my painful story. Now tell me yours." + +"Wrykyn. My pater took me away because I got such a lot of bad +reports." + +"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?" + +"Rotten." + +"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?" + +"He doesn't seem a bad sort of chap. Bit off his nut. Jawed about +apses and things." + +"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." + +"I'm not going to play here, at any rate," said Mike. + +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. + +Psmith approved the resolve. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I vote we get some tea first somewhere." + +"Then let's beat up a study. I suppose they have studies here. Let's +go and look." + +They went upstairs. On the first floor there was a passage with doors +on either side. Psmith opened the first of these. + +"This'll do us well," he said. + +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. + +"Might have been made for us," said Psmith approvingly. + +"I suppose it belongs to some rotter." + +"Not now." + +"You aren't going to collar it!" + +"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." + +"But the real owner's bound to turn up some time or other." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +STAKING OUT A CLAIM + + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Just ready. What would you give to be at Eton now? I'd give something +to be at Wrykyn." + +"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." + +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!" + +"Hackenschmidt!" said Mike. + +"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." + +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. + +Psmith rose courteously from his chair, and moved forward with slow +stateliness to do the honours. + +"What the dickens," inquired the newcomer, "are you doing here?" + +[Illustration: "WHAT THE DICKENS ARE YOU DOING HERE?"] + +"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." + +"My name's Spiller, and this is my study." + +Psmith leaned against the mantelpiece, put up his eyeglass, and +harangued Spiller in a philosophical vein. + +"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----" + +"I want to know what----" + +"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. + +The victim of Fate seemed in no way consoled. + +"It's beastly cheek, that's what I call it. Are you new chaps?" + +"The very latest thing," said Psmith. + +"Well, it's beastly cheek." + +Mike's outlook on life was of the solid, practical order. He went +straight to the root of the matter. + +"What are you going to do about it?" he asked. + +Spiller evaded the question. + +"It's beastly cheek," he repeated. "You can't go about the place +bagging studies." + +"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." + +"Look here, I tell you what it----" + +"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.'" + +"Can't I! I'll----" + +"What _are_ you going to do about it?" said Mike. + +"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." + +"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 _are_ an +insignificant-looking little weed." + +"We'll see what Outwood says about it." + +"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." + +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. + +Mr. Outwood received them with the motherly warmth which was evidently +the leading characteristic of his normal manner. + +"Ah, Spiller," he said. "And Smith, and Jackson. I am glad to see that +you have already made friends." + +"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." + +Mr. Outwood received this eulogy with rather a startled expression, +and gazed at the object of the tribute in a surprised way. + +"Er--quite so, Smith, quite so," he said at last. "I like to see boys +in my house friendly towards one another." + +"There is no vice in Spiller," pursued Psmith earnestly. "His heart is +the heart of a little child." + +"Please, sir," burst out this paragon of all the virtues, "I----" + +"But it was not entirely with regard to Spiller that I wished to speak +to you, sir, if you were not too busy." + +"Not at all, Smith, not at all. Is there anything----" + +"Please, sir--" began Spiller. + +"I understand, sir," said Psmith, "that there is an Archaeological +Society in the school." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Please, sir--" said Spiller. + +"One moment, Spiller. Do you want to join, Smith?" + +"Intensely, sir. Archaeology fascinates me. A grand pursuit, sir." + +"Undoubtedly, Smith. I am very pleased, very pleased indeed. I will +put down your name at once." + +"And Jackson's, sir." + +"Jackson, too!" Mr. Outwood beamed. "I am delighted. Most delighted. +This is capital. This enthusiasm is most capital." + +"Spiller, sir," said Psmith sadly, "I have been unable to induce to +join." + +"Oh, he is one of our oldest members." + +"Ah," said Psmith, tolerantly, "that accounts for it." + +"Please, sir--" said Spiller. + +"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." + +"We shall be there, sir." + +"Capital!" + +"Please, sir--" said Spiller. + +"One moment, Spiller," said Psmith. "There is just one other matter, +if you could spare the time, sir." + +"Certainly, Smith. What is that?" + +"Would there be any objection to Jackson and myself taking Simpson's +old study?" + +"By all means, Smith. A very good idea." + +"Yes, sir. It would give us a place where we could work quietly in the +evenings." + +"Quite so. Quite so." + +"Thank you very much, sir. We will move our things in." + +"Thank you very much, sir," said Mike. + +"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?" + +"I'm afraid I have already promised it to Smith, Spiller. You should +have spoken before." + +"But, sir----" + +Psmith eyed the speaker pityingly. + +"This tendency to delay, Spiller," he said, "is your besetting fault. +Correct it, Edwin. Fight against it." + +He turned to Mr. Outwood. + +"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." + +"Quite so. An excellent arrangement, Smith. I like this spirit of +comradeship in my house. Then you will be with us on Saturday?" + +"On Saturday, sir." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +GUERRILLA WARFARE + + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"What can he do? Outwood's given us the study." + +"What would you have done if somebody had bagged your study?" + +"Made it jolly hot for them!" + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"And jam a chair against it." + +"_And_, as you rightly remark, jam a chair against it. But what +of the nightfall? What of the time when we retire to our dormitory?" + +"Or dormitories. I say, if we're in separate rooms we shall be in the +cart." + +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." + +"We'd better nip down to the matron right off." + +"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." + +As they got up, the door handle rattled again, and this time there +followed a knocking. + +"This must be an emissary of Comrade Spiller's," said Psmith. "Let us +parley with the man." + +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. + +"I just came up to have a look at you," he explained. + +"If you move a little to the left," said Psmith, "you will catch the +light and shade effects on Jackson's face better." + +The new-comer giggled with renewed vigour. "Are you the chap with the +eyeglass who jaws all the time?" + +"I _do_ wear an eyeglass," said Psmith; "as to the rest of the +description----" + +"My name's Jellicoe." + +"Mine is Psmith--P-s-m-i-t-h--one of the Shropshire Psmiths. The +object on the skyline is Comrade Jackson." + +"Old Spiller," giggled Jellicoe, "is cursing you like anything +downstairs. You _are_ chaps! Do you mean to say you simply bagged +his study? He's making no end of a row about it." + +"Spiller's fiery nature is a byword," said Psmith. + +"What's he going to do?" asked Mike, in his practical way. + +"He's going to get the chaps to turn you out." + +"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?" + +"Me? No fear! I think Spiller's an ass." + +"There's nothing like a common thought for binding people together. +_I_ think Spiller's an ass." + +"How many _will_ there be, then?" asked Mike. + +"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." + +"Sturdy common sense," said Psmith approvingly, "seems to be the chief +virtue of the Sedleigh character." + +"We shall be able to tackle a crowd like that," said Mike. "The only +thing is we must get into the same dormitory." + +"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?" + +"Five--there's one with three beds in it, only it belongs to three +chaps." + +"I believe in the equal distribution of property. We will go to +Comrade Outwood and stake out another claim." + +Mr. Outwood received them even more beamingly than before. "Yes, +Smith?" he said. + +"We must apologise for disturbing you, sir----" + +"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." + +"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." + +"You make friends easily, Smith. I like to see it--I like to see it." + +"And we can have the room, sir?" + +"Certainly--certainly! Tell the matron as you go down." + +"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." + +"You _are_ a chap!" said Jellicoe. + +The handle began to revolve again. + +"That door," said Psmith, "is getting a perfect incubus! It cuts into +one's leisure cruelly." + +This time it was a small boy. "They told me to come up and tell you to +come down," he said. + +Psmith looked at him searchingly through his eyeglass. + +"Who?" + +"The senior day-room chaps." + +"Spiller?" + +"Spiller and Robinson and Stone, and some other chaps." + +"They want us to speak to them?" + +"They told me to come up and tell you to come down." + +"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?" + +Spiller advanced into the study; the others waited outside, crowding +in the doorway. + +"Look here," said Spiller, "are you going to clear out of here or +not?" + +"After Mr. Outwood's kindly thought in giving us the room? You suggest +a black and ungrateful action, Comrade Spiller." + +"You'll get it hot, if you don't." + +"We'll risk it," said Mike. + +Jellicoe giggled in the background; the drama in the atmosphere +appealed to him. His was a simple and appreciative mind. + +"Come on, you chaps," cried Spiller suddenly. + +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. + +"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." + +A heavy body crashed against the door. + +"They'll have it down," said Jellicoe. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Robinson. I say, you _are_ a chap!" + +"Robinson, was it? Well, we are always glad to see Comrade Robinson, +always. I wonder if anybody else is thinking of calling?" + +Apparently frontal attack had been abandoned. Whisperings could be +heard in the corridor. + +Somebody hammered on the door. + +"Yes?" called Psmith patiently. + +"You'd better come out, you know; you'll only get it hotter if you +don't." + +"Leave us, Spiller; we would be alone." + +A bell rang in the distance. + +"Tea," said Jellicoe; "we shall have to go now." + +"They won't do anything till after tea, I shouldn't think," said Mike. +"There's no harm in going out." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +"Shall we go down to the senior day-room, and have it out?" said Mike. + +"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?" + +"I think that's sound," said Mike. "We needn't drag Jellicoe into it." + +"As a matter of fact--if you don't mind--" began that man of peace. + +"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 _châlet_ 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, _ne pas_. 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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE SMALL HOURS + + +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. + +"And touching," said Psmith, "the matter of noise, must this business +be conducted in a subdued and _sotto voce_ manner, or may we let +ourselves go a bit here and there?" + +"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." + +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!" + +"All the better," said Mike; "we don't want anybody butting in and +stopping the show before it's half started." + +"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?" + +"Barnes might," said Jellicoe, "only he won't." + +"Who is Barnes?" + +"Head of the house--a rotter. He's in a funk of Stone and Robinson; +they rag him; he'll simply sit tight." + +"Then I think," said Psmith placidly, "we may look forward to a very +pleasant evening. Shall we be moving?" + +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. + +"How about that door?" said Mike. "Shall we leave it open for them?" + +"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----" + +"I tell you what," said Mike, "how about tying a string at the top of +the steps?" + +"Yes, Napoleon would have done that, too. Hats off to Comrade Jackson, +the man with the big brain!" + +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. + +"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." + +"If they've got a candle----" + +"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!" + +"Right ho!" said Mike. + +"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." + +"You _are_ a chap!" said Jellicoe. + +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. + +There was a creaking sound. + +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. + +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---- + +CRASH! + +And at that point the proceedings may be said to have formally opened. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: PSMITH SEIZED AND EMPTIED JELLICOE'S JUG OVER SPILLER] + +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. + +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. + +"Hold the door for a second," cried Psmith, and vanished. Mike was +alone in the doorway. + +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. + +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. + +Stone drew back, and there was another interval for rest and +reflection. + +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. + +"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." + +The door closed behind Mike and himself. For ten minutes shufflings +and whisperings went on in the corridor, but nobody touched the +handle. + +Then there was a sound of retreating footsteps, and silence reigned. + +On the following morning there was a notice on the house-board. It +ran: + + 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +ADAIR + + +On the same morning Mike met Adair for the first time. + +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. + +"That's Adair," said Jellicoe, "in the middle." + +His voice had assumed a tone almost of awe. + +"Who's Adair?" asked Mike. + +"Captain of cricket, and lots of other things." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Briefly, he was a worker. He had heart. + +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. + +All it wanted now was opportunity. + +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 _likes_ 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. + +Adair was the exception. + +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. + +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 _the_ schools, and to be an +Old Sedleighan should be a badge passing its owner everywhere. + +"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!" + +"Sort of little tin god," said Mike, taking a violent dislike to Adair +from that moment. + +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. + +"'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 _had_ 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." + +"Both you chaps play cricket, I suppose?" + +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. + +"Haven't you _ever_ played?" + +"My little sister and I sometimes play with a soft ball at home." + +Adair looked sharply at him. A temper was evidently one of his +numerous qualities. + +"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." + +"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." + +Adair's jaw grew squarer than ever. Mike was wearing a gloomy scowl. + +Psmith joined suavely in the dialogue. + +"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." + +"Then you won't play?" + +"No," said Mike. + +"Archaeology," said Psmith, with a deprecatory wave of the hand, "will +brook no divided allegiance from her devotees." + +Adair turned, and walked on. + +Scarcely had he gone, when another voice hailed them with precisely +the same question. + +"Both you fellows are going to play cricket, eh?" + +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. + +"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." + +"We are, sir," said Psmith, with fervour. + +"Excellent." + +"On archaeology." + +Mr. Downing--for it was no less a celebrity--started, as one who +perceives a loathly caterpillar in his salad. + +"Archaeology!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"I never loaf, sir," said Psmith. + +"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." + +"A very wild lot, sir, I fear, the Archaeological Society here," +sighed Psmith, shaking his head. + +"If you choose to waste your time, I suppose I can't hinder you. But +in my opinion it is foolery, nothing else." + +He stumped off. + +"Now _he's_ cross," said Psmith, looking after him. "I'm afraid +we're getting ourselves disliked here." + +"Good job, too." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +MIKE FINDS OCCUPATION + + +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 _v._ 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 _will_ 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." + +But every time he shrank from such a climb down. It couldn't be done. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +There were other exponents of the game, mostly in Downing's house. + +Altogether, quite worthy colleagues even for a man who had been a star +at Wrykyn. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Mike, as he sat there watching, could stand it no longer. + +He went up to Adair. + +"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. + +Adair was taking off his pads after his innings. He looked up. "This +net," it may be observed, was the first eleven net. + +"What?" he said. + +Mike repeated his request. More abruptly this time, from increased +embarrassment. + +"This is the first eleven net," said Adair coldly. "Go in after Lodge +over there." + +"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. + +Mike walked away without a word. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +He seemed to be consumed by a thirst for knowledge. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +Looking back, they saw that the archaeologists were still hard at it. +Their departure had passed unnoticed. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +He had not gone many yards when a dog emerged suddenly from the +undergrowth, and began to bark vigorously at him. + +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. + +He was too late. + +"Stop! What the dickens are you doing here?" shouted a voice behind +him. + +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. + +"I'm sorry if I'm trespassing," he said. "I was just having a look +round." + +"The dickens you--Why, you're Jackson!" + +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. + +"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." + +"I'm frightfully sorry." + +"That's all right. Where do you spring from?" + +"Of course--I remember you now. You're Prendergast. You made +fifty-eight not out." + +"Thanks. I was afraid the only thing you would remember about me was +that you took a century mostly off my bowling." + +"You ought to have had me second ball, only cover dropped it." + +"Don't rake up forgotten tragedies. How is it you're not at Wrykyn? +What are you doing down here?" + +"I've left Wrykyn." + +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. + +"I hang out down here. I do a little farming and a good deal of +pottering about." + +"Get any cricket?" asked Mike, turning to the subject next his heart. + +"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?" + +Mike's heart leaped. + +"Any Wednesday or Saturday. Look here, I'll tell you how it is." + +And he told how matters stood with him. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Rather. I suppose you can fix me up with a bat and pads? I don't want +to bring mine." + +"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." + +"I'll play on a rockery, if you want me to," said Mike. + + * * * * * + +"You're going to what?" asked Psmith, sleepily, on being awakened and +told the news. + +"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." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +THE FIRE BRIGADE MEETING + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The weekly meetings were always full of life and excitement. + +At this point it is as well to introduce Sammy to the reader. + +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. + +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. + +In passing, Jellicoe owned a clock-work rat, much in request during +French lessons. + +We will now proceed to the painful details. + + * * * * * + +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. + +To-day they were in very fair form. + +As soon as Mr. Downing had closed the minute-book, Wilson, of the +School House, held up his hand. + +"Well, Wilson?" + +"Please, sir, couldn't we have a uniform for the Brigade?" + +"A uniform?" Mr. Downing pondered + +"Red, with green stripes, sir," + +Red, with a thin green stripe, was the Sedleigh colour. + +"Shall I put it to the vote, sir?" asked Stone. + +"One moment, Stone." + +"Those in favour of the motion move to the left, those against it to +the right." + +A scuffling of feet, a slamming of desk-lids and an upset blackboard, +and the meeting had divided. + +Mr. Downing rapped irritably on his desk. + +"Sit down!" he said, "sit down! I won't have this noise and +disturbance. Stone, sit down--Wilson, get back to your place." + +"Please, sir, the motion is carried by twenty-five votes to six." + +"Please, sir, may I go and get measured this evening?" + +"Please, sir----" + +"Si-_lence_! The idea of a uniform is, of course, out of the +question." + +"Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!" + +"Be _quiet!_ 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?" + +"Please, sir, may we have helmets?" + +"Very useful as a protection against falling timbers, sir," said +Robinson. + +"I don't think my people would be pleased, sir, if they knew I was +going out to fires without a helmet," said Stone. + +The whole strength of the company: "Please, sir, may we have helmets?" + +"Those in favour--" began Stone. + +Mr. Downing banged on his desk. "Silence! Silence!! Silence!!! Helmets +are, of course, perfectly preposterous." + +"Oo-oo-oo-oo, sir-r-r!" + +"But, sir, the danger!" + +"Please, sir, the falling timbers!" + +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. + +"Silence!" + +"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." + +Mr. Downing smiled a wry smile. + +"Our Wilson is facetious," he remarked frostily. + +"Sir, no, sir! I wasn't facetious! Or couldn't we have footer-tops, +like the first fifteen have? They----" + +"Wilson, leave the room!" + +"Sir, _please_, sir!" + +"This moment, Wilson. And," as he reached the door, "do me one hundred +lines." + +A pained "OO-oo-oo, sir-r-r," was cut off by the closing door. + +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?" + +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. + +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. + +"May I fetch a book from my desk, sir?" asked Mike. + +"Very well--be quick, Jackson; we are busy." + +Being interrupted in one of his addresses to the Brigade irritated Mr. +Downing. + +The muffled cries grew more distinct. + +"What--is--that--noise?" shrilled Mr. Downing. + +"Noise, sir?" asked Mike, puzzled. + +"I think it's something outside the window, sir," said Stone +helpfully. + +"A bird, I think, sir," said Robinson. + +"Don't be absurd!" snapped Mr. Downing. "It's outside the door. +Wilson!" + +"Yes, sir?" said a voice "off." + +"Are you making that whining noise?" + +"Whining noise, sir? No, sir, I'm not making a whining noise." + +"What _sort_ 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. + +"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." + +"They are mowing the cricket field, sir," said the invisible Wilson. +"Perhaps that's it." + +"It may be one of the desks squeaking, sir," put in Stone. "They do +sometimes." + +"Or somebody's boots, sir," added Robinson. + +"Silence! Wilson?" + +"Yes, sir?" bellowed the unseen one. + +"Don't shout at me from the corridor like that. Come in." + +"Yes, sir!" + +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. + +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. + +Chaos reigned. + +"A rat!" shouted Robinson. + +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. + +Sammy had by this time disposed of the clock-work rat, and was now +standing, like Marius, among the ruins barking triumphantly. + +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. + +Mr. Downing shot out orders, threats, and penalties with the rapidity +of a Maxim gun. + +"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. _Quietly_, I said, Durand! Don't +shuffle your feet in that abominable way." + +Crash! + +"Wolferstan, I distinctly saw you upset that black-board with a +movement of your hand--one hundred lines. Go quietly from the room, +everybody." + +The meeting dispersed. + +"Jackson and Wilson, come here. What's the meaning of this disgraceful +conduct? Put that dog out of the room, Jackson." + +Mike removed the yelling Sammy and shut the door on him. + +"Well, Wilson?" + +"Please, sir, I was playing with a clock-work rat----" + +"What business have you to be playing with clock-work rats?" + +"Then I remembered," said Mike, "that I had left my Horace in my desk, +so I came in----" + +"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." + +"I met Sammy on the gravel outside and he followed me." + +"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." + +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. + +Mr. Downing allowed these facts to influence him in passing sentence. + +"One hundred lines, Wilson," he said. "You may go." + +Wilson departed with the air of a man who has had a great deal of fun, +and paid very little for it. + +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." + +And Mr. Downing walked out of the room. In affairs of this kind a +master has a habit of getting the last word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +ACHILLES LEAVES HIS TENT + + +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. + +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. + +"What on earth for?" asked Mike. + +"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." + +"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." + +Jellicoe was profuse in his thanks, and disappeared in a cloud of +gratitude. + +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. + +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.) + +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. + +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. + +But the motives of the expedition were obviously friendly. Stone +beamed. Robinson was laughing. + +"You're a sportsman," said Robinson. + +"What did he give you?" asked Stone. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As for Mike, he now found them pleasant company, and began to get out +the tea-things. + +"Those Fire Brigade meetings," said Stone, "are a rag. You can do what +you like, and you never get more than a hundred lines." + +"Don't you!" said Mike. "I got Saturday afternoon." + +"What!" + +"Is Wilson in too?" + +"No. He got a hundred lines." + +Stone and Robinson were quite concerned. + +"What a beastly swindle!" + +"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." + +"'We are, above all, a keen school,'" quoted Stone. "Don't you ever +play?" + +"I have played a bit," said Mike. + +"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?" + +"I was at Wrykyn." + +"Why on earth did you leave?" asked Stone. "Were you sacked?" + +"No. My pater took me away." + +"Wrykyn?" said Robinson. "Are you any relation of the Jacksons +there--J. W. and the others?" + +"Brother." + +"What!" + +"Well, didn't you play at all there?" + +"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." + +There was a profound and gratifying sensation. Stone gaped, and +Robinson nearly dropped his tea-cup. + +Stone broke the silence. + +"But I mean to say--look here! What I mean is, why aren't you playing? +Why don't you play now?" + +"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." + +"But why not for the school?" + +"Why should I? It's much better fun for the village. You don't get +ordered about by Adair, for a start." + +"Adair sticks on side," said Stone. + +"Enough for six," agreed Robinson. + +"By Jove," said Stone, "I've got an idea. My word, what a rag!" + +"What's wrong now?" inquired Mike politely. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Bat. Why?" + +Robinson rocked on the table. + +"Why, old Downing fancies himself as a bowler. You _must_ play, +and knock the cover off him." + +"Masters don't play in house matches, surely?" + +"This isn't a real house match. Only a friendly. Downing always turns +out on Mid-term Service day. I say, do play." + +"Think of the rag." + +"But the team's full," said Mike. + +"The list isn't up yet. We'll nip across to Barnes' study, and make +him alter it." + +They dashed out of the room. From down the passage Mike heard yells of +"_Barnes_!" the closing of a door, and a murmur of excited +conversation. Then footsteps returning down the passage. + +Barnes appeared, on his face the look of one who has seen visions. + +"I say," he said, "is it true? Or is Stone rotting? About Wrykyn, I +mean." + +"Yes, I was in the team." + +Barnes was an enthusiastic cricketer. He studied his _Wisden_, +and he had an immense respect for Wrykyn cricket. + +"Are you the M. Jackson, then, who had an average of fifty-one point +nought three last year?" + +[Illustration: "ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON, THEN, WHO HAD AN AVERAGE OF +FIFTY-ONE POINT NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?"] + +"Yes." + +Barnes's manner became like that of a curate talking to a bishop. + +"I say," he said, "then--er--will you play against Downing's to-morrow?" + +"Rather," said Mike. "Thanks awfully. Have some tea?" + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THE MATCH WITH DOWNING'S + + +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. + +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 +(_a_) the school is above all a keen school, (_b_) that all +members of it should play cricket, and (_c_) 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. + +Mr. Downing assumed it. + +He was walking to the field with Adair and another member of his team +when he came upon Mike. + +"What!" he cried. "Our Jackson clad in suit of mail and armed for the +fray!" + +This was Mr. Downing's No. 2 manner--the playful. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Indeed, Smith? You are not playing yourself, I notice. Your +enthusiasm has bounds." + +"In our house, sir, competition is fierce, and the Selection Committee +unfortunately passed me over." + + * * * * * + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The first over was a maiden, six dangerous balls beautifully played. +The fieldsmen changed over. + +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. + +Off the first ball of the master's over a leg-bye was run. + +Mike took guard. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This time the hope was fulfilled. + +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. + +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. + +"Get to them, Jenkins," said Mr. Downing irritably, as the ball came +back from the boundary. "Get to them." + +"Sir, please, sir----" + +"Don't talk in the field, Jenkins." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When a slow bowler starts to bowl fast, it is usually as well to be +batting, if you can manage it. + +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. + +And a shrill small voice, from the neighbourhood of the pavilion, +uttered with painful distinctness the words, "Take him off!" + +That was how the most sensational day's cricket began that Sedleigh +had known. + +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. + +Mike had then made a hundred and three. + + * * * * * + +As Mike was taking off his pads in the pavilion, Adair came up. + +"Why did you say you didn't play cricket?" he asked abruptly. + +[Illustration: "WHY DID YOU SAY YOU DIDN'T PLAY CRICKET?" HE ASKED] + +When one has been bowling the whole morning, and bowling well, without +the slightest success, one is inclined to be abrupt. + +Mike finished unfastening an obstinate strap. Then he looked up. + +"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." + +Adair was silent for a moment. + +"Will you play for us against the Old Sedleighans to-morrow?" he said +at length. + +Mike tossed his pads into his bag and got up. + +"No, thanks." + +There was a silence. + +"Above it, I suppose?" + +"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." + +There was another pause. + +"Then you won't play?" asked Adair. + +"I'm not keeping you, am I?" said Mike, politely. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Declare!" said Robinson. "Great Scott, what on earth are you talking +about?" + +"Declare!" Stone's voice was almost a wail of indignation. "I never +saw such a chump." + +"They'll be rather sick if we don't, won't they?" suggested Barnes. + +"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." + +"So do I," said Robinson. + +"If you declare, I swear I won't field. Nor will Robinson." + +"Rather not." + +"Well, I won't then," said Barnes unhappily. "Only you know they're +rather sick already." + +"Don't you worry about that," said Stone with a wide grin. "They'll be +a lot sicker before we've finished." + +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. + +These are the things which mark epochs. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_our_ 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.) + +A grey dismay settled on the field. + +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. + +Mike's pace had become slower, as was only natural, but his score, +too, was mounting steadily. + +"This is foolery," snapped Mr. Downing, as the three hundred and fifty +went up on the board. "Barnes!" he called. + +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. + +"Barnes!" + +"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." + +"This is absurd. You must declare your innings closed. The game has +become a farce." + +"Declare! Sir, we can't unless Barnes does. He might be awfully +annoyed if we did anything like that without consulting him." + +"Absurd." + +"He's very touchy, sir." + +"It is perfect foolery." + +"I think Jenkins is just going to bowl, sir." + +Mr. Downing walked moodily to his place. + + * * * * * + +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: + + OUTWOOD'S _v_. DOWNING'S + + _Outwood's. First innings._ + + J. P. Barnes, _c_. Hammond, _b_. Hassall... 33 + M. Jackson, not out........................ 277 + W. J. Stone, not out....................... 124 + Extras............................... 37 + ----- + Total (for one wicket)...... 471 + + Downing's did not bat. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF JELLICOE + + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I don't care," murmured Mike, shifting his aching limbs in the chair. + +"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." + +"He doesn't deserve to." + +Psmith smoothed his hair at the glass and turned round again. + +"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." + +This interested Mike, fagged as he was. + +"What! Three quid!" + +"Three jingling, clinking sovereigns. He wanted four." + +"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 _me_!" + +"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." + +"I got some from my brother at Oxford." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Are you asleep, Jackson?" + +"Who's that?" + +"Me--Jellicoe. I can't get to sleep." + +"Nor can I. I'm stiff all over." + +"I'll come over and sit on your bed." + +There was a creaking, and then a weight descended in the neighbourhood +of Mike's toes. + +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. + +"I say, Jackson!" he said. + +"Yes?" + +"Have you--oh, nothing." + +Silence again. + +"Jackson." + +"Hullo?" + +"I say, what would your people say if you got sacked?" + +"All sorts of things. Especially my pater. Why?" + +"Oh, I don't know. So would mine." + +"Everybody's would, I expect." + +"Yes." + +The bed creaked, as Jellicoe digested these great thoughts. Then he +spoke again. + +"It would be a jolly beastly thing to get sacked." + +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. + +"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!'" + +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. + +"Hullo?" he said. "What's up?" + +"Then you'd say. 'Hullo!' And then they'd say, 'What are you doing +here? 'And you'd say----" + +"What on earth are you talking about?" + +"About what would happen." + +"Happen when?" + +"When you got home. After being sacked, you know." + +"Who's been sacked?" Mike's mind was still under a cloud. + +"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." + +Mike dozed off again. + +"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!" + +"Hullo! What's the matter? Who's that?" + +"Me--Jellicoe." + +"What's up?" + +"I asked you if you'd got any sisters." + +"Any _what_?" + +"Sisters." + +"Whose sisters?" + +"Yours. I asked if you'd got any." + +"Any what?" + +"Sisters." + +"What about them?" + +The conversation was becoming too intricate for Jellicoe. He changed +the subject. + +"I say, Jackson!" + +"Well?" + +"I say, you don't know any one who could lend me a pound, do you?" + +"What!" cried Mike, sitting up in bed and staring through the darkness +in the direction whence the numismatist's voice was proceeding. "Do +_what_?" + +"I say, look out. You'll wake Smith." + +"Did you say you wanted some one to lend you a quid?" + +"Yes," said Jellicoe eagerly. "Do you know any one?" + +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? + +"What on earth do you want a pound for?" + +"I don't want to tell anybody. But it's jolly serious. I shall get +sacked if I don't get it." + +Mike pondered. + +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. + +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. + +Bob's postal order, which had arrived that evening, was reposing in +the breast-pocket of his coat. + +It was a wrench, but, if the situation was so serious with Jellicoe, +it had to be done. + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +JELLICOE GOES ON THE SICK-LIST + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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 _will_ have silence--you must hang back in order to +make a more effective entrance, like some wretched actor who--I will +_not_ have this shuffling. I have spoken of this before. Macpherson, +are you shuffling your feet?" + +"Sir, no, sir." + +"Please, sir." + +"Well, Parsons?" + +"I think it's the noise of the draught under the door, sir." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +It was through one of these batsmen that an accident occurred which +had a good deal of influence on Mike's affairs. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +When "Heads!" was called on the present occasion, Mike and Jellicoe +instantly assumed the crouching attitude. + +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. + +The bright-blazered youth walked up. + +"Awfully sorry, you know, man. Hurt?" + +Jellicoe was pressing the injured spot tenderly with his finger-tips, +uttering sharp howls whenever, zeal outrunning discretion, he prodded +himself too energetically. + +"Silly ass, Dunster," he groaned, "slamming about like that." + +"Awfully sorry. But I did yell." + +"It's swelling up rather," said Mike. "You'd better get over to the +house and have it looked at. Can you walk?" + +Jellicoe tried, but sat down again with a loud "Ow!" At that moment +the bell rang. + +"I shall have to be going in," said Mike, "or I'd have helped you +over." + +"I'll give you a hand," said Dunster. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +MIKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION + + +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. + +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. + +Before he got there he heard his name called, and turning, found +Psmith seated under a tree with the bright-blazered Dunster. + +"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. + +"Is your name Jackson?" inquired Dunster, "because Jellicoe wants to +see you." + +"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." + +"Old Smith and I," said Dunster, "were at a private school together. +I'd no idea I should find him here." + +"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." + +"You still jaw as much as ever, I notice," said the animal delineator, +fondling the beginnings of his moustache. + +"More," sighed Psmith, "more. Is anything irritating you?" he added, +eyeing the other's manoeuvres with interest. + +"You needn't be a funny ass, man," said Dunster, pained; "heaps of +people tell me I ought to have it waxed." + +"What it really wants is top-dressing with guano. Hullo! another man +out. Adair's bowling better to-day than he did yesterday." + +"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." + +"Comrade Dunster went out to it first ball," said Psmith to Mike. + +"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." + +"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." + +"What was it Jellicoe wanted?" asked Mike; "was it anything +important?" + +"He seemed to think so--he kept telling me to tell you to go and see +him." + +"I fear Comrade Jellicoe is a bit of a weak-minded blitherer----" + +"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." + +"I shall count the minutes," said Psmith. + +Mike stretched himself; the sun was very soothing after his two hours +in the detention-room; he felt disinclined for exertion. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mike tilted his hat over his eyes and abandoned Jellicoe. + +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. + +Mike found him in a condition bordering on collapse. + +"I say, you might have come before!" said Jellicoe. + +"What's up? I didn't know there was such a hurry about it--what did +you want?" + +"It's no good now," said Jellicoe gloomily; "it's too late, I shall +get sacked." + +"What on earth are you talking about? What's the row?" + +"It's about that money." + +"What about it?" + +"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!" + +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." + +"It doesn't matter," said Jellicoe miserably; "it can't be helped." + +"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." + +Jellicoe sat up. "You can't! You'd get sacked if you were caught." + +"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." + +The toad-under-the-harrow expression began to fade from Jellicoe's +face. "I say, do you think you could, really?" + +"Of course I can! It'll be rather a rag." + +"I say, it's frightfully decent of you." + +"What absolute rot!" + +"But, look here, are you certain----" + +"I shall be all right. Where do you want me to go?" + +"It's a place about a mile or two from here, called Lower Borlock." + +"Lower Borlock?" + +"Yes, do you know it?" + +"Rather! I've been playing cricket for them all the term." + +"I say, have you? Do you know a man called Barley?" + +"Barley? Rather--he runs the 'White Boar'." + +"He's the chap I owe the money to." + +"Old Barley!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I shall bike there, I think," he said, "if I can get into the shed." + +The school's bicycles were stored in a shed by the pavilion. + +"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." + +"Got it on you?" + +"Smith's got it." + +"I'll get it from him." + +"I say!" + +"Well?" + +"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." + +"All right, I won't tell him." + +"I say, thanks most awfully! I don't know what I should have done, +I----" + +"Oh, chuck it!" said Mike. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +AND FULFILS IT + + +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. + +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. + +So Mike pedalled along rapidly, being wishful to get the job done +without delay. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +The place was shut, of course, and all the lights were out--it was +some time past eleven. + +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. + +After Mike had waited for a few minutes there was a rattling of chains +and a shooting of bolts and the door opened. + +"Yes, sir?" said the boots, appearing in his shirt-sleeves. "Why, +'ullo! Mr. Jackson, sir!" + +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. + +"I want to see Mr. Barley, Jack." + +"He's bin in bed this half-hour back, Mr. Jackson." + +"I must see him. Can you get him down?" + +The boots looked doubtful. "Roust the guv'nor outer bed?" he said. + +Mike quite admitted the gravity of the task. The landlord of the +"White Boar" was one of those men who need a beauty sleep. + +"I wish you would--it's a thing that can't wait. I've got some money +to give to him." + +"Oh, if it's _that_--" said the boots. + +Five minutes later mine host appeared in person, looking more than +usually portly in a check dressing-gown and red bedroom slippers of +the _Dreadnought_ type. + +"You can pop off, Jack." + +Exit boots to his slumbers once more. + +"Well, Mr. Jackson, what's it all about?" + +"Jellicoe asked me to come and bring you the money." + +"The money? What money?" + +"What he owes you; the five pounds, of course." + +"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. + +"Oh dear!" he said, "oh dear! the five pounds!" + +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. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"Five pounds!" + +"You might tell us the joke." + +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. + +"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----" + +Mike was reading the 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." + +There was some more to the same effect; it was signed "T. G. +Jellicoe." + +"What on earth's it all about?" said Mike, finishing this curious +document. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He proceeded to scale this water-pipe. + +He had got about half-way up when a voice from somewhere below cried, +"Who's that?" + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +PURSUIT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Oo-oo-oo yer!" was the exact remark. + +Whereby Mike recognised him as the school sergeant. + +"Oo-oo-oo yer!" was that militant gentleman's habitual way of +beginning a conversation. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Then the sound of footsteps returning, this time at a walk. They +passed the gate and went on down the road. + +The pursuer had given the thing up. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The other appeared startled. + +"Who the dickens is that?" he asked. "Is that you, Jackson?" + +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. + +"What are you doing out here, Jackson?" + +"What are you, if it comes to that?" + +Adair was lighting his lamp. + +"I'm going for the doctor. One of the chaps in our house is bad." + +"Oh!" + +"What are you doing out here?" + +"Just been for a stroll." + +"Hadn't you better be getting back?" + +"Plenty of time." + +"I suppose you think you're doing something tremendously brave and +dashing?" + +"Hadn't you better be going to the doctor?" + +"If you want to know what I think----" + +"I don't. So long." + +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. + +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. + +He walked in that direction. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was this. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +So Mr. Downing had had to be content with day drill. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Probably nobody has ever crammed more energetic work into four seconds +than he did then. + +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. + +And from the darkened house beyond there came a gradually swelling +hum, as if a vast hive of bees had been disturbed. + +The school was awake. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +THE DECORATION OF SAMMY + + +Smith 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. + +"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?" + +"I wonder who rang that bell!" said Stone. "Jolly sporting idea." + +"I believe it was Downing himself. If it was, I hope he's satisfied." + +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. + +"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." + +"I was in a beastly funk, I can tell you." + +Stone gurgled. + +"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." + +"I rushed into Downing's, and ragged some of the beds," said Robinson. + +"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----" + +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. + +"I say, have you chaps seen Sammy?" + +"Seen who?" said Stone. "Sammy? Why?" + +"You'll know in a second. He's just outside. Here, Sammy, Sammy, +Sammy! Sam! Sam!" + +A bark and a patter of feet outside. + +"Come on, Sammy. Good dog." + +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. + +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. + +"Good old Sammy!" + +"What on earth's been happening to him?" + +"Who did it?" + +Sharpe, the introducer, had no views on the matter. + +"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!" + +Mike was the first to show any sympathy for the maltreated animal. + +"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." + +"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." + +"There'll be a row about this," said Stone. + +"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." + +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. + +"I say," said Jellicoe, "I just wanted to thank you again about +that----" + +"Oh, that's all right." + +"No, but it really was awfully decent of you. You might have got into +a frightful row. Were you nearly caught?" + +"Jolly nearly." + +"It _was_ you who rang the bell, wasn't it?" + +"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." + +"All right. But, I say, you _are_ a chap!" + +"What's the matter now?" + +"I mean about Sammy, you know. It's a jolly good score off old +Downing. He'll be frightfully sick." + +"Sammy!" cried Mike. "My good man, you don't think I did that, do you? +What absolute rot! I never touched the poor brute." + +"Oh, all right," said Jellicoe. "But I wasn't going to tell any one, +of course." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You _are_ a chap!" giggled Jellicoe. + +Mike walked to chapel rather thoughtfully. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + +MR. DOWNING ON THE SCENT + + +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. + +Then the happy laughter of the young onlookers reassured him. + +"Who--" he shouted, "WHO has done this?" + +[Illustration: "WHO--" HE SHOUTED, "WHO HAS DONE THIS?"] + +"Please, sir, we don't know," shrilled the chorus. + +"Please, sir, he came in like that." + +"Please, sir, we were sitting here when he suddenly ran in, all red." + +A voice from the crowd: "Look at old Sammy!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Dear me!" he said, deeply interested. "One of the boys at the school, +you think?" + +"I am certain of it," said Mr. Downing. + +"Was he wearing a school cap?" + +"He was bare-headed. A boy who breaks out of his house at night would +hardly run the risk of wearing a distinguishing cap." + +"No, no, I suppose not. A big boy, you say?" + +"Very big." + +"You did not see his face?" + +"It was dark and he never looked back--he was in front of me all the +time." + +"Dear me!" + +"There is another matter----" + +"Yes?" + +"This boy, whoever he was, had done something before he rang the +bell--he had painted my dog Sampson red." + +The headmaster's eyes protruded from their sockets. "He--he--_what_, +Mr. Downing?" + +"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. + +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. + +"It is a scandalous thing!" said Mr. Downing. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _via_ 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 _à propos_ +of some reflections on the subject of burglars in mediaeval England, +and passed it on to Mr. Downing as they walked back to lunch. + +"Then the boy was in your house!" exclaimed Mr. Downing. + +"Not actually in, as far as I understand. I gather from the sergeant +that he interrupted him before----" + +"I mean he must have been one of the boys in your house." + +"But what was he doing out at that hour?" + +"He had broken out." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Regardless of the claims of digestion, he rushed forth on the trail. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Having requested his host to smoke, which the latter was about to do +unasked, Mr. Downing stated his case. + +"Mr. Outwood," he said, "tells me that last night, sergeant, you saw a +boy endeavouring to enter his house." + +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'.'" + +"What did you do?" + +"Do? Oo-oo-oo! I shouts 'Oo-oo-oo yer, yer young monkey, what yer +doin' there?'" + +"Yes?" + +"But 'e was off in a flash, and I doubles after 'im prompt." + +"But you didn't catch him?" + +"No, sir," admitted the sergeant reluctantly. + +"Did you catch sight of his face, sergeant?" + +"No, sir, 'e was doublin' away in the opposite direction." + +"Did you notice anything at all about his appearance?" + +"'E was a long young chap, sir, with a pair of legs on him--feeflee +fast 'e run, sir. Oo-oo-oo, feeflee!" + +"You noticed nothing else?" + +"'E wasn't wearing no cap of any sort, sir." + +"Ah!" + +"Bare-'eaded, sir," added the sergeant, rubbing the point in. + +"It was undoubtedly the same boy, undoubtedly! I wish you could have +caught a glimpse of his face, sergeant." + +"So do I, sir." + +"You would not be able to recognise him again if you saw him, you +think?" + +"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." + +Mr. Downing rose to go. + +"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." + +"Young monkeys!" interjected the sergeant helpfully. + +"Good-afternoon, sergeant." + +"Good-afternoon to you, sir." + +"Pray do not move, sergeant." + +The sergeant had not shown the slightest inclination of doing anything +of the kind. + +"I will find my way out. Very hot to-day, is it not?" + +"Feeflee warm, sir; weather's goin' to break--workin' up for thunder." + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + +THE SLEUTH-HOUND + + +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. + +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: + +"My dear Holmes, how--?" and all the rest of it, just as the +downtrodden medico did. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +All these things passed through Mr. Downing's mind as he walked up and +down the cricket field that afternoon. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Your bicycle?" snapped Mr. Downing. Much thinking had made him +irritable. "What do you want with your bicycle?" + +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. + +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. + +He felt for his bunch of keys, and made his way to the shed, Riglett +shambling behind at an interval of two yards. + +Mr. Downing unlocked the door, and there on the floor was the Clue! + +A clue that even Dr. Watson could not have overlooked. + +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. + +"Pah!" said Mr. Downing. + +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! + +Riglett, who had been waiting patiently two yards away, now coughed +plaintively. The sound recalled Mr. Downing to mundane matters. + +"Get your bicycle, Riglett," he said, "and be careful where you tread. +Somebody has upset a pot of paint on the floor." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Yoicks! + +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. + +_Note one_: Interview the ground-man on this point. + +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. + +_Note two_ Interview Adair as to whether he found, on returning to +the house, that there was paint on his boots. + +Things were moving. + + * * * * * + +He resolved to take Adair first. He could get the ground-man's address +from him. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Paint, sir?" Adair was plainly puzzled. His book had been +interesting, and had driven the Sammy incident out of his head. + +"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?" + +"No, sir." + +"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?" + +"No, sir, my bicycle is always quite near the door of the shed. I +didn't go into the shed at all." + +"I see. Quite so. Thank you, Adair. Oh, by the way, Adair, where does +Markby live?" + +"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." + +"Thank you. I shall be able to find them. I should like to speak to +Markby for a moment on a small matter." + +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. + +"Oh, Markby!" + +"Sir?" + +"You remember that you were painting the scoring-box in the pavilion +last night after the match?" + +"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." + +"Just so. An excellent idea. Tell me, Markby, what did you do with the +pot of paint when you had finished?" + +"Put it in the bicycle shed, sir." + +"On the floor?" + +"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." + +"Of course, yes. Quite so. Just as I thought." + +"Do you want it, sir?" + +"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." + +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. + +Regardless of the heat, the sleuth-hound hurried across to Outwood's +as fast as he could walk. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + +A CHECK + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +He stared after the sleuth-hound, who had just entered the house. + +"What the dickens," said Mike, "does he mean by barging in as if he'd +bought the place?" + +"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?" + +"I'll be going on. I shall be under the trees at the far end of the +ground." + +"'Tis well. I will be with you in about two ticks." + +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. + +"A warm afternoon, sir," murmured Psmith courteously, as he passed. + +"Er--Smith!" + +"Sir?" + +"I--er--wish to go round the dormitories." + +It was Psmith's guiding rule in life never to be surprised at +anything, so he merely inclined his head gracefully, and said nothing. + +"I should be glad if you would fetch the keys and show me where the +rooms are." + +"With acute pleasure, sir," said Psmith. "Or shall I fetch Mr. +Outwood, sir?" + +"Do as I tell you, Smith," snapped Mr. Downing. + +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. + +"Shall I lead the way, sir?" he asked. + +Mr. Downing nodded. + +"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----" + +He broke off abruptly and began to watch the other's manoeuvres in +silence. Mr. Downing was peering rapidly beneath each bed in turn. + +"Are you looking for Barnes, sir?" inquired Psmith politely. "I think +he's out in the field." + +Mr. Downing rose, having examined the last bed, crimson in the face +with the exercise. + +"Show me the next dormitory, Smith," he said, panting slightly. + +"This," said Psmith, opening the next door and sinking his voice to an +awed whisper, "is where _I_ sleep!" + +Mr. Downing glanced swiftly beneath the three beds. "Excuse me, sir," +said Psmith, "but are we chasing anything?" + +"Be good enough, Smith," said Mr. Downing with asperity, "to keep your +remarks to yourself." + +"I was only wondering, sir. Shall I show you the next in order?" + +"Certainly." + +They moved on up the passage. + +Drawing blank at the last dormitory, Mr. Downing paused, baffled. +Psmith waited patiently by. An idea struck the master. + +"The studies, Smith," he cried. + +"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----" + +Mr. Downing stopped short. + +"Is this impertinence studied, Smith?" + +"Ferguson's study, sir? No, sir. That's further down the passage. This +is Barnes'." + +Mr. Downing looked at him closely. Psmith's face was wooden in its +gravity. The master snorted suspiciously, then moved on. + +"Whose is this?" he asked, rapping a door. + +"This, sir, is mine and Jackson's." + +"What! Have you a study? You are low down in the school for it." + +"I think, sir, that Mr. Outwood gave it us rather as a testimonial to +our general worth than to our proficiency in school-work." + +Mr. Downing raked the room with a keen eye. The absence of bars from +the window attracted his attention. + +"Have you no bars to your windows here, such as there are in my +house?" + +"There appears to be no bar, sir," said Psmith, putting up his +eyeglass. + +Mr Downing was leaning out of the window. + +"A lovely view, is it not, sir?" said Psmith. "The trees, the field, +the distant hills----" + +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. + +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. + +"Whom did you say you shared this study with, Smith?" + +"Jackson, sir. The cricketer." + +"Never mind about his cricket, Smith," said Mr. Downing with +irritation. + +"No, sir." + +"He is the only other occupant of the room?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Nobody else comes into it?" + +"If they do, they go out extremely quickly, sir." + +"Ah! Thank you, Smith." + +"Not at all, sir." + +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! + +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. + +"Smith!" he said excitedly. + +"On the spot, sir," said Psmith affably. + +"Where are Jackson's boots?" + +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. + +"His boots, sir? He has them on. I noticed them as he went out just +now." + +"Where is the pair he wore yesterday?" + +"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." + +"Would they have been cleaned yet?" + +"If I know Edmund, sir--no." + +"Smith," said Mr. Downing, trembling with excitement, "go and bring +that basket to me here." + +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. + + * * * * * + +He staggered back with the basket, painfully conscious the while that +it was creasing his waistcoat, and dumped is down on the study floor. +Mr. Downing stooped eagerly over it. Psmith leaned against the wall, +and straightened out the damaged garment. + +"We have here, sir," he said, "a fair selection of our various +bootings." + +Mr. Downing looked up. + +"You dropped none of the boots on your way up, Smith?" + +"Not one, sir. It was a fine performance." + +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. + +At last he made a dive, and, with an exclamation of triumph, rose to +his feet. In his hand he held a boot. + +"Put those back again, Smith," he said. + +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. + +"That's the lot, sir," he said, rising. + +"Ah. Now come across with me to the headmaster's house. Leave the +basket here. You can carry it back when you return." + +"Shall I put back that boot, sir?" + +"Certainly not. I shall take this with me, of course." + +"Shall I carry it, sir?" + +Mr. Downing reflected. + +"Yes, Smith," he said. "I think it would be best." + +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. + +Psmith took the boot, and doing so, understood what before had puzzled +him. + +Across the toe of the boot was a broad splash of red paint. + +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. + +"Can you tell me whose boot that is?" asked Mr. Downing. + +Psmith looked at it again. + +"No, sir. I can't say the little chap's familiar to me." + +"Come with me, then." + +Mr. Downing left the room. After a moment Psmith followed him. + +The headmaster was in his garden. Thither Mr. Downing made his way, +the boot-bearing Psmith in close attendance. + +The Head listened to the amateur detective's statement with interest. + +"Indeed?" he said, when Mr. Downing had finished. + +"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?" + +"I have it with me. I brought it on purpose to show to you. Smith!" + +"Sir?" + +"You have the boot?" + +"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 _you_ point out to me exactly where +this paint is that you speak of?" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER L + +THE DESTROYER OF EVIDENCE + + +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. + +Mr. Downing was the first to break the silence. + +"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?" + +"Paint, sir!" + +"What! Do you mean to tell me that you did _not_ see it?" + +"No, sir. There was no paint on this boot." + +"This is foolery. I saw it with my own eyes. It was a broad splash +right across the toe." + +The headmaster interposed. + +"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----" + +"I had an aunt, sir," said Psmith chattily, "who was remarkably +subject----" + +"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." + +"It is undoubtedly black now, Mr. Downing." + +"A sort of chameleon boot," murmured Psmith. + +The goaded housemaster turned on him. + +"What did you say, Smith?" + +"Did I speak, sir?" said Psmith, with the start of one coming suddenly +out of a trance. + +Mr. Downing looked searchingly at him. + +"You had better be careful, Smith." + +"Yes, sir." + +"I strongly suspect you of having something to do with this." + +"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." + +"Exactly, sir," said Psmith. "My theory, if I may----?" + +"Certainly, Smith." + +Psmith bowed courteously and proceeded. + +"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----" + +"Bah!" said Mr. Downing shortly. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I am sorry that you should leave your preparation till Sunday, Smith. +It is a habit of which I altogether disapprove." + +"I am reading it, sir," said Psmith, with simple dignity, "for +pleasure. Shall I take the boot with me, sir?" + +"If Mr. Downing does not want it?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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----" + +He dragged up another chair for his feet and picked up his novel. + +He had not been reading long when there was a footstep in the passage, +and Mr. Downing appeared. + +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. + +Mr. Downing was brisk and peremptory. + +"I wish to look at these boots again," he said. Psmith, with a sigh, +laid down his novel, and rose to assist him. + +"Sit down, Smith," said the housemaster. "I can manage without your +help." + +Psmith sat down again, carefully tucking up the knees of his trousers, +and watched him with silent interest through his eyeglass. + +The scrutiny irritated Mr. Downing. + +"Put that thing away, Smith," he said. + +"That thing, sir?" + +"Yes, that ridiculous glass. Put it away." + +"Why, sir?" + +"Why! Because I tell you to do so." + +"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. + +"Don't sit there staring at me, Smith." + +"I was interested in what you were doing, sir." + +"Never mind. Don't stare at me in that idiotic way." + +"May I read, sir?" asked Psmith, patiently. + +"Yes, read if you like." + +"Thank you, sir." + +Psmith took up his book again, and Mr. Downing, now thoroughly +irritated, pursued his investigations in the boot-basket. + +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. + +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. + +Then he caught sight of the cupboard, and something seemed to tell him +that there was the place to look. + +"Smith!" he said. + +Psmith had been reading placidly all the while. + +"Yes, sir?" + +"What is in this cupboard?" + +"That cupboard, sir?" + +"Yes. This cupboard." Mr. Downing rapped the door irritably. + +"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." + +"Open it." + +"I think you will find that it is locked, sir." + +"Unlock it." + +"But where is the key, sir?" + +"Have you not got the key?" + +"If the key is not in the lock, sir, you may depend upon it that it +will take a long search to find it." + +"Where did you see it last?" + +"It was in the lock yesterday morning. Jackson might have taken it." + +"Where is Jackson?" + +"Out in the field somewhere, sir." + +Mr. Downing thought for a moment. + +"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." + +Psmith got up. + +"I'm afraid you mustn't do that, sir." + +Mr. Downing stared, amazed. + +"Are you aware whom you are talking to, Smith?" he inquired acidly. + +"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." + +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----! + +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. + +He stood chewing these thoughts for awhile, Psmith in the meantime +standing in a graceful attitude in front of the cupboard, staring into +vacancy. + +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. + +"Smith," he said, "go and find Mr. Outwood, and ask him to be good +enough to come here for a moment." + + + + +CHAPTER LI + +MAINLY ABOUT BOOTS + + +"Be quick, Smith," he said, as the latter stood looking at him without +making any movement in the direction of the door. + +"_Quick_, sir?" said Psmith meditatively, as if he had been asked +a conundrum. + +"Go and find Mr. Outwood at once." + +Psmith still made no move. + +"Do you intend to disobey me, Smith?" Mr. Downing's voice was steely. + +"Yes, sir." + +"What!" + +"Yes, sir." + +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!" + +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. + +"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----'" + +"This impertinence is doing you no good, Smith." + +Psmith waved a hand deprecatingly. + +"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 _should_ +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?" + +"Go and fetch Mr. Outwood, Smith. I shall not tell you again." + +Psmith flicked a speck of dust from his coat-sleeve. + +"Very well, Smith." + +"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." + +Mr. Downing stalked out of the room. + +"But," added Psmith pensively to himself, as the footsteps died away, +"I did not promise that it would be the same boot." + +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. + +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. + +He returned to his place at the mantelpiece. + +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. + +The bathroom was a few yards down the corridor. He went there, and +washed off the soot. + +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. + +"Where have you been, Smith?" asked Mr. Downing sharply. + +"I have been washing my hands, sir." + +"H'm!" said Mr. Downing suspiciously. + +"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." + +"My dear Outwood," snapped the sleuth, "I thought I had made it +perfectly clear. Where is the difficulty?" + +"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-_no_-sense look on the other's face," +why he should not do so if he wishes it." + +"Exactly, sir," said Psmith, approvingly. "You have touched the spot." + +"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." + +"He painted--!" said Mr. Outwood, round-eyed. "Why?" + +"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?" + +Mr. Outwood looked amazedly at Smith, and Psmith shook his head +sorrowfully at Mr. Outwood. Psmith'a expression said, as plainly as if +he had spoken the words, "We must humour him." + +"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?" + +Mr. Outwood started. + +"Objection? None at all, my dear fellow, none at all. Let me see, +_what_ is it you wish to do?" + +"This," said Mr. Downing shortly. + +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. + +Mr. Downing uttered a cry of triumph, and tore the boot from its +resting-place. + +"I told you," he said. "I told you." + +"I wondered where that boot had got to," said Psmith. "I've been +looking for it for days." + +Mr. Downing was examining his find. He looked up with an exclamation +of surprise and wrath. + +"This boot has no paint on it," he said, glaring at Psmith. "This is +not the boot." + +"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. + +"Did you place that boot there, Smith?" + +"I must have done. Then, when I lost the key----" + +"Are you satisfied now, Downing?" interrupted Mr. Outwood with +asperity, "or is there any more furniture you wish to break?" + +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. + +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. + +"Dear me," he said, "I must remember to have the chimneys swept. It +should have been done before." + +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.") + +Mr. Downing's mind at that moment contained one single thought; and +that thought was "What ho for the chimney!" + +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. + +"Ah," he said. "I thought as much. You were not quite clever enough, +after all, Smith." + +"No, sir," said Psmith patiently. "We all make mistakes." + +"You would have done better, Smith, not to have given me all this +trouble. You have done yourself no good by it." + +"It's been great fun, though, sir," argued Psmith. + +"Fun!" Mr. Downing laughed grimly. "You may have reason to change your +opinion of what constitutes----" + +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. + +"Did--you--put--that--boot--there, Smith?" he asked slowly. + +[Illustration: "DID--YOU--PUT--THAT--BOOT--THERE, SMITH?"] + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then what did you _MEAN_ by putting it there?" roared Mr. +Downing. + +"Animal spirits, sir," said Psmith. + +"WHAT!" + +"Animal spirits, sir." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Soot!" he murmured weakly. "Soot!" + +"Your face is covered, my dear fellow, quite covered." + +"It certainly has a faintly sooty aspect, sir," said Psmith. + +His voice roused the sufferer to one last flicker of spirit. + +"You will hear more of this, Smith," he said. "I say you will hear +more of it." + +Then he allowed Mr. Outwood to lead him out to a place where there +were towels, soap, and sponges. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Psmith went to the bathroom to wash his hands again, with the feeling +that he had done a good day's work. + + + + +CHAPTER LII + +ON THE TRAIL AGAIN + + +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. + +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. + +So Psmith kept his own counsel, with the result that Mike went over to +school on the Monday morning in pumps. + +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. + +"'Ere's one of 'em, Mr. Jackson," he said, as if he hoped that Mike +might be satisfied with a compromise. + +"One? What's the good of that, Edmund, you chump? I can't go over to +school in one boot." + +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." + +"Well, what am I to do? Where is the other boot?" + +"Don't know, Mr. Jackson," replied Edmund to both questions. + +"Well, I mean--Oh, dash it, there's the bell." + +And Mike sprinted off in the pumps he stood in. + +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 _have_ you got on?" Masters say, +"Jones, _what_ 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.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mike, accordingly, had not been in his place for three minutes when +Mr. Downing, stiffening like a pointer, called his name. + +"Yes, sir?" said Mike. + +"_What_ are you wearing on your feet, Jackson?" + +"Pumps, sir." + +"You are wearing pumps? Are you not aware that PUMPS are not the +proper things to come to school in? Why are you wearing _PUMPS_?" + +The form, leaning back against the next row of desks, settled itself +comfortably for the address from the throne. + +"I have lost one of my boots, sir." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When the bell rang at a quarter to eleven, he gathered up his gown, +and sped to the headmaster. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII + +THE KETTLE METHOD + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"It's all rot," said Stone. "What on earth's the good of sweating +about before breakfast? It only makes you tired." + +"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." + +"Personally," said Stone, gnawing his bun, "I don't intend to stick +it." + +"Nor do I." + +"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." + +"Yes." + +At this moment Adair came into the shop. + +"Fielding-practice again to-morrow," he said briskly, "at six." + +"Before breakfast?" said Robinson. + +"Rather. You two must buck up, you know. You were rotten to-day." And +he passed on, leaving the two malcontents speechless. + +Stone was the first to recover. + +"I'm hanged if I turn out to-morrow," he said, as they left the shop. +"He can do what be likes about it. Besides, what can he do, after all? +Only kick us out of the team. And I don't mind that." + +"Nor do I." + +"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." + +"All right," said Robinson. "Let's." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was wondering what to do in this matter of Stone and Robinson. + +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. + +He resolved to interview the absentees. + +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. + +"Sorry," said Stone. "Hullo, Adair!" + +"Don't mention it. Why weren't you two at fielding-practice this +morning?" + +Robinson, who left the lead to Stone in all matters, said nothing. +Stone spoke. + +"We didn't turn up," he said. + +"I know you didn't. Why not?" + +Stone had rehearsed this scene in his mind, and he spoke with the +coolness which comes from rehearsal. + +"We decided not to." + +"Oh?" + +"Yes. We came to the conclusion that we hadn't any use for early-morning +fielding." + +Adair's manner became ominously calm. + +"You were rather fed-up, I suppose?" + +"That's just the word." + +"Sorry it bored you." + +"It didn't. We didn't give it the chance to." + +Robinson laughed appreciatively. + +"What's the joke, Robinson?" asked Adair. + +"There's no joke," said Robinson, with some haste. "I was only +thinking of something." + +"I'll give you something else to think about soon." + +Stone intervened. + +"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?" + +"You and Jackson seem to have fixed it all up between you." + +"What are you going to do? Kick us out?" + +"No." + +"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." + +"You don't think there is? You may be right. All the same, you're +going to to-morrow morning." + +"What!" + +"Six sharp. Don't be late." + +"Don't be an ass, Adair. We've told you we aren't going to." + +"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." + +"You can turn out if you feel like it. You won't find me there." + +"That'll be a disappointment. Nor Robinson?" + +"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. + +"You've quite made up your minds?" + +"Yes," said Stone. + +"Right," said Adair quietly, and knocked him down. + +He was up again in a moment. Adair had pushed the table back, and was +standing in the middle of the open space. + +"You cad," said Stone. "I wasn't ready." + +"Well, you are now. Shall we go on?" + +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. + +He got up slowly and stood leaning with one hand on the table. + +"Suppose we say ten past six?" said Adair. "I'm not particular to a +minute or two." + +Stone made no reply. + +"Will ten past six suit you for fielding-practice to-morrow?" said +Adair. + +"All right," said Stone. + +"Thanks. How about you, Robinson?" + +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. + +"All right," he said hastily, "I'll turn up." + +"Good," said Adair. "I wonder if either of you chaps could tell me +which is Jackson's study." + +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. + +"Thanks," said Adair. "You don't happen to know if he's in, I +suppose?" + +"He went up with Smith a quarter of an hour ago. I don't know if he's +still there." + +"I'll go and see," said Adair. "I should like a word with him if he +isn't busy." + + + + +CHAPTER LIV + +ADAIR HAS A WORD WITH MIKE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And it was at this point, when his resentment was at its height, that +Adair, the concrete representative of everything Sedleighan, entered +the room. + +There are moments in life's placid course when there has got to be the +biggest kind of row. This was one of them. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Psmith was the first to speak. + +"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 _consommé_ 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?" + +"Thanks," said Adair. "I just wanted to speak to Jackson for a +minute." + +"Fate," said Psmith, "has led your footsteps to the right place. That +is Comrade Jackson, the Pride of the School, sitting before you." + +"What do you want?" said Mike. + +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. + +"I'll tell you in a minute. It won't take long." + +"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----" + +"Buck up," said Mike. + +"Certainly," said Adair. "I've just been talking to Stone and +Robinson." + +"An excellent way of passing an idle half-hour," said Psmith. + +"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." + +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 dear 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. + +Psmith was regarding Adair through his eyeglass with pain and +surprise. + +"Surely," he said, "you do not mean us to understand that you have +been _brawling_ 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." + +Psmith turned away, and resting his elbows on the mantelpiece, gazed +at himself mournfully in the looking-glass. + +"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." + +"Stone and I had a discussion about early-morning fielding-practice," +said Adair, turning to Mike. + +Mike said nothing. + +"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." + +Mike remained silent. + +"So are you," added Adair. + +"I get thinner and thinner," said Psmith from the mantelpiece. + +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. + +"Oh?" said Mike at last. "What makes you think that?" + +"I don't think. I know." + +"Any special reason for my turning out?" + +"Yes." + +"What's that?" + +"You're going to play for the school against the M.C.C. to-morrow, and +I want you to get some practice." + +"I wonder how you got that idea!" + +"Curious I should have done, isn't it?" + +"Very. You aren't building on it much, are you?" said Mike politely. + +"I am, rather," replied Adair with equal courtesy. + +"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed." + +"I don't think so." + +"My eyes," said Psmith regretfully, "are a bit close together. +However," he added philosophically, "it's too late to alter that now." + +Mike drew a step closer to Adair. + +"What makes you think I shall play against the M.C.C.?" he asked +curiously. + +"I'm going to make you." + +Mike took another step forward. Adair moved to meet him. + +"Would you care to try now?" said Mike. + +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. + +"Get out of the light, Smith," said Mike. + +Psmith waved him back with a deprecating gesture. + +"My dear young friends," he said placidly, "if you _will_ 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." + + + + +CHAPTER LV + +CLEARING THE AIR + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He got up slowly and with difficulty. For a moment he stood blinking +vaguely. Then he lurched forward at Mike. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"_He's_ 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." + +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. + +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." + +It came upon Mike with painful clearness that he had been making an +ass of himself. + +He had come to this conclusion, after much earnest thought, when +Psmith entered the study. + +"How's Adair?" asked Mike. + +"Sitting up and taking nourishment once more. We have been chatting. +He's not a bad cove." + +"He's all right," said Mike. + +There was a pause. Psmith straightened his tie. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"Of course not," said Mike indignantly. + +"I told him he didn't know the old _noblesse oblige_ 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?" + +"I don't--What I mean to say--" began Mike. + +"If your trouble is," said Psmith, "that you fear that you may be in +unworthy company----" + +"Don't be an ass." + +"----Dismiss it. _I_ am playing." + +Mike stared. + +"You're what? You?" + +"I," said Psmith, breathing on a coat-button, and polishing it with +his handkerchief. + +"Can you play cricket?" + +"You have discovered," said Psmith, "my secret sorrow." + +"You're rotting." + +"You wrong me, Comrade Jackson." + +"Then why haven't you played?" + +"Why haven't you?" + +"Why didn't you come and play for Lower Borlock, I mean?" + +"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." + +"No, but look here, Smith, bar rotting. Are you really any good at +cricket?" + +"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." + +"But you told me you didn't like cricket. You said you only liked +watching it." + +"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----" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER LVI + +IN WHICH PEACE IS DECLARED + + +"Sprained his wrist?" said Mike. "How did he do that?" + +"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." + +"I say, what beastly rough luck! I'd no idea. I'll go round." + +"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." + +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. + +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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Mike, shuffling across to school in a Burberry, met Adair at Downing's +gate. + +These moments are always difficult. Mike stopped--he could hardly walk +on as if nothing had happened--and looked down at his feet. + +"Coming across?" he said awkwardly. + +"Right ho!" said Adair. + +They walked on in silence. + +"It's only about ten to, isn't it?" said Mike. + +Adair fished out his watch, and examined it with an elaborate care +born of nervousness. + +"About nine to." + +"Good. We've got plenty of time." + +"Yes." + +"I hate having to hurry over to school." + +"So do I." + +"I often do cut it rather fine, though." + +"Yes. So do I." + +"Beastly nuisance when one does." + +"Beastly." + +"It's only about a couple of minutes from the houses to the school, I +should think, shouldn't you?" + +"Not much more. Might be three." + +"Yes. Three if one didn't hurry." + +"Oh, yes, if one didn't hurry." + +Another silence. + +"Beastly day," said Adair. + +"Rotten." + +Silence again. + +"I say," said Mike, scowling at his toes, "awfully sorry about your +wrist." + +"Oh, that's all right. It was my fault." + +"Does it hurt?" + +"Oh, no, rather not, thanks." + +"I'd no idea you'd crocked yourself." + +"Oh, no, that's all right. It was only right at the end. You'd have +smashed me anyhow." + +"Oh, rot." + +"I bet you anything you like you would." + +"I bet you I shouldn't.... Jolly hard luck, just before the match." + +"Oh, no.... I say, thanks awfully for saying you'd play." + +"Oh, rot.... Do you think we shall get a game?" + +Adair inspected the sky carefully. + +"I don't know. It looks pretty bad, doesn't it?" + +"Rotten. I say, how long will your wrist keep you out of cricket?" + +"Be all right in a week. Less, probably." + +"Good." + +"Now that you and Smith are going to play, we ought to have a jolly +good season." + +"Rummy, Smith turning out to be a cricketer." + +"Yes. I should think he'd be a hot bowler, with his height." + +"He must be jolly good if he was only just out of the Eton team last +year." + +"Yes." + +"What's the time?" asked Mike. + +Adair produced his watch once more. + +"Five to." + +"We've heaps of time." + +"Yes, heaps." + +"Let's stroll on a bit down the road, shall we?" + +"Right ho!" + +Mike cleared his throat. + +"I say." + +"Hullo?" + +"I've been talking to Smith. He was telling me that you thought I'd +promised to give Stone and Robinson places in the----" + +"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." + +"He never even asked me to get him a place." + +"No, I know." + +"Of course, I wouldn't have done it, even if he had." + +"Of course not." + +"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." + +"No, I know." + +"It was rotten enough, really, not playing myself." + +"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." + +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. + +He eluded the pitfall. + +"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." + +Adair shuffled awkwardly. + +"I've always been fairly keen on the place," he said. "But I don't +suppose I've done anything much." + +"You've loosened one of my front teeth," said Mike, with a grin, "if +that's any comfort to you." + +"I couldn't eat anything except porridge this morning. My jaw still +aches." + +For the first time during the conversation their eyes met, and the +humorous side of the thing struck them simultaneously. They began to +laugh. + +"What fools we must have looked!" said Adair. + +"_You_ 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." + +"It might clear before eleven. You'd better get changed, anyhow, at +the interval, and hang about in case." + +"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." + +"He isn't a bad sort of chap, when you get to know him," said Adair. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mike stopped. + +"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." + +"What! They wouldn't play us." + +"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?" + +Adair was as one who has seen a vision. + +"By Jove," he said at last, "if we only could!" + + + + +CHAPTER LVII + +MR. DOWNING MOVES + + +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 _v_. M.C.C. match was accordingly scratched. + +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. + +"What's he want me for?" inquired Mike. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +He was still fiddling away at it when Mike returned. + +Mike, though Psmith was at first too absorbed to notice it, was +agitated. + +"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.'" + +"The man's an absolute drivelling ass," said Mike warmly. + +"Me, do you mean?" + +"What on earth would be the point of my doing it?" + +"You'd gather in a thousand of the best. Give you a nice start in +life." + +"I'm not talking about your rotten puzzle." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"That ass Downing. I believe he's off his nut." + +"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?" + +"He's off his nut." + +"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?" + +Mike sat down. + +"You remember that painting Sammy business?" + +"As if it were yesterday," said Psmith. "Which it was, pretty nearly." + +"He thinks I did it." + +"Why? Have you ever shown any talent in the painting line?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"_Did_ you, by the way?" asked Psmith. + +"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." + +"Such as what?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"He swears one of the boots was splashed with paint." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Psmith sighed. + +"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?" + +Mike stared, "What the dickens are you talking about?" + +"Go on. Get it over. Be a man, and reach up the chimney." + +"I don't know what the game is," said Mike, kneeling beside the fender +and groping, "but--_Hullo_!" + +"Ah ha!" said Psmith moodily. + +Mike dropped the soot-covered object in the fender, and glared at it. + +[Illustration: MIKE DROPPED THE SOOT-COVERED OBJECT IN THE FENDER.] + +"It's my boot!" he said at last. + +"It _is_," said Psmith, "your boot. And what is that red stain +across the toe? Is it blood? No, 'tis not blood. It is red paint." + +Mike seemed unable to remove his eyes from the boot. + +"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." + +"Then you were out that night?" + +"Rather. That's what makes it so jolly awkward. It's too long to tell +you now----" + +"Your stories are never too long for me," said Psmith. "Say on!" + +"Well, it was like this." And Mike related the events which had led up +to his midnight excursion. Psmith listened attentively. + +"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?" + +"Yes. Of course there was no need for him to have the money at all." + +"And the result is that you are in something of a tight place. You're +_absolutely_ 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!" + +"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." + +Psmith pondered. + +"It _is_ a tightish place," he admitted. + +"I wonder if we could get this boot clean," said Mike, inspecting it +with disfavour. + +"Not for a pretty considerable time." + +"I suppose not. I say, I _am_ in the cart. If I can't produce +this boot, they're bound to guess why." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Sufficient, too," said Psmith, "quite sufficient. I take it, then, +that he is now on the war-path, collecting a gang, so to speak." + +"I suppose he's gone to the Old Man about it." + +"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?" + +"I suppose he'll send for me, and try to get something out of me." + +"_He'll_ 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." + +"Well, I hope you'll be able to think of something. I can't." + +"Possibly. You never know." + +There was a tap at the door. + +"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." + +A small boy, carrying a straw hat adorned with the school-house +ribbon, answered the invitation. + +"Oh, I say, Jackson," he said, "the headmaster sent me over to tell +you he wants to see you." + +"I told you so," said Mike to Psmith. + +"Don't go," suggested Psmith. "Tell him to write." + +Mike got up. + +"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." + +The emissary departed. + +"_You're_ 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." + +With which expert advice, he allowed Mike to go on his way. + +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. + +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. + +"Is Mr. Downing at home?" inquired Psmith. + +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. + +"An excellent likeness, sir," said Psmith, with a gesture of the hand +towards the painting. + +"Well, Smith," said Mr. Downing shortly, "what do you wish to see me +about?" + +"It was in connection with the regrettable painting of your dog, sir." + +"Ha!" said Mr. Downing. + +"I did it, sir," said Psmith, stopping and flicking a piece of fluff +off his knee. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII + +THE ARTIST CLAIMS HIS WORK + + +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. + +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. + +"I would not have interrupted you," said Mr. Downing, "but----" + +"Not at all, Mr. Downing. Is there anything I can----?" + +"I have discovered--I have been informed--In short, it was not +Jackson, who committed the--who painted my dog." + +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. + +"Not Jackson?" said the headmaster. + +"No. It was a boy in the same house. Smith." + +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. + +"Smith!" said the headmaster. "What makes you think that?" + +"Simply this," said Mr. Downing, with calm triumph, "that the boy +himself came to me a few moments ago and confessed." + +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. + +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. + +Mike took advantage of a pause to get up. "May I go, sir?" he said. + +"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." + +"Yes, sir." + +He had reached the door, when again there was a knock. + +"Come in," said the headmaster. + +It was Adair. + +"Yes, Adair?" + +Adair was breathing rather heavily, as if he had been running. + +"It was about Sammy--Sampson, sir," he said, looking at Mr. Downing. + +"Ah, we know--. Well, Adair, what did you wish to say." + +"It wasn't Jackson who did it, sir." + +"No, no, Adair. So Mr. Downing----" + +"It was Dunster, sir." + +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. + +"Adair!" + +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. + +"Adair!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"What--_what_ do you mean?" + +"It _was_ 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." + +"Smith told you?" said Mr. Downing. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did you say anything to him about your having received this letter +from Dunster?" + +"I gave him the letter to read, sir." + +"And what was his attitude when he had read it?" + +"He laughed, sir." + +"_Laughed!_" Mr. Downing's voice was thunderous. + +"Yes, sir. He rolled about." + +Mr. Downing snorted. + +"But Adair," said the headmaster, "I do not understand how this thing +could have been done by Dunster. He has left the school." + +"He was down here for the Old Sedleighans' match, sir. He stopped the +night in the village." + +"And that was the night the--it happened?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"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." + +"The sergeant," said Mr. Downing, "told me that the boy he saw was +attempting to enter Mr. Outwood's house." + +"Another freak of Dunster's, I suppose," said the headmaster. "I shall +write to him." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"If you please, sir, Mr. Smith is waiting in the hall." + +"In the hall!" + +"Yes, sir. He arrived soon after Mr. Adair, sir, saying that he would +wait, as you would probably wish to see him shortly." + +"H'm. Ask him to step up, Barlow." + +"Yes, sir." + +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. + +Presently there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs. The door was +opened. + +"Mr. Smith, sir." + +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. + +"It is still raining," he observed. "You wished to see me, sir?" + +"Sit down, Smith." + +"Thank you, sir." + +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. + +Mr. Downing burst out, like a reservoir that has broken its banks. + +"Smith." + +Psmith turned his gaze politely in the housemaster's direction. + +"Smith, you came to me a quarter of an hour ago and told me that it +was you who had painted my dog Sampson." + +"Yes, sir." + +"It was absolutely untrue?" + +"I am afraid so, sir." + +"But, Smith--" began the headmaster. + +Psmith bent forward encouragingly. + +"----This is a most extraordinary affair. Have you no explanation to +offer? What induced you to do such a thing?" + +Psmith sighed softly. + +"The craze for notoriety, sir," he replied sadly. "The curse of the +present age." + +"What!" cried the headmaster. + +"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----" + +The headmaster interrupted. + +"Smith," he said, "I should like to see you alone for a moment. Mr. +Downing might I trouble--? Adair, Jackson." + +He made a motion towards the door. + +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. + +"Er--Smith." + +"Sir?" + +The headmaster seemed to have some difficulty in proceeding. He paused +again. Then he went on. + +"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--_mental_ illness?" + +"No, sir." + +"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?" + +"There isn't a lunatic on the list, sir," said Psmith cheerfully. + +"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?" + +"Strictly between ourselves, sir----" + +Privately, the headmaster found Psmith's man-to-man attitude somewhat +disconcerting, but he said nothing. + +"Well, Smith?" + +"I should not like it to go any further, sir." + +"I will certainly respect any confidence----" + +"I don't want anybody to know, sir. This is strictly between +ourselves." + +"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." + +"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." + +There was a pause. + +"It was a very wrong thing to do, Smith," said the headmaster, at +last, "but.... You are a curious boy, Smith. Good-night." + +He held out his hand. + +"Good-night, sir," said Psmith. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +Mike and Adair were waiting for him outside the front door. + +"Well?" said Mike. + +"You _are_ the limit," said Adair. "What's he done?" + +"Nothing. We had a very pleasant chat, and then I tore myself away." + +"Do you mean to say he's not going to do a thing?" + +"Not a thing." + +"Well, you're a marvel," said Adair. + +Psmith thanked him courteously. They walked on towards the houses. + +"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." + +"What's that?" asked Psmith. + +"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." + +"Oh, I should think they're certain to," said Mike. "Good-night." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"I say, Psmith," said Mike suddenly, "what really made you tell +Downing you'd done it?" + +"The craving for----" + +"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." + +Psmith's expression was one of pain. + +"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." + +"Well, I believe you did, all the same," said Mike obstinately. "And +it was jolly good of you, too." + +Psmith moaned. + + + + +CHAPTER LIX + +SEDLEIGH _v_. WRYKYN + + +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. + +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 _them_. 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. + +Sedleigh had gone on to the field that morning a depressed side. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As Mike reached the pavilion, Adair declared the innings closed. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A quarter past six struck, and then Psmith made a suggestion which +altered the game completely. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Two minutes later Drummond's successor was retiring to the pavilion, +while the wicket-keeper straightened the stumps again. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Psmith and Mike sat in their study after lock-up, discussing things in +general and the game in particular. + +"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." + +"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." + +"He bowled awfully well." + +"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?" + +"Well?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +They staggered. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mike, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE *** + +This file should be named mikew10.txt or mikew10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, mikew11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, mikew10a.txt + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Jim Tinsley, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. +With thanks to Amherst College Library. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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