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diff --git a/old/mikew10.txt b/old/mikew10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 90c7cc4..0000000 --- a/old/mikew10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15543 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mike, by P. G. Wodehouse -#25 in our series by P. G. Wodehouse - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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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