The Willoughby Captains - Reed Talbot Baines - Страница 52

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And so Riddell’s captaincy received its first undisputed acknowledgment that term, and he sent up his formidable list to the doctor, and with mingled curiosity, impatience, and despondency waited the result.

There was something more than toothache the matter with Gilks that afternoon.

The fact was his spirits were a good deal worse than his teeth. Things had been going wrong with him for some time, ever since the day he was politely turned out of the schoolhouse boat. He had lost caste among his fellows, and what little influence he ever had among the juniors had also vanished.

Still, if that had been all, Gilks would scarcely have been moping up at Willoughby among the virtuous few that afternoon, while the rest of the school were running mad down in Shellport.

He had a greater trouble than this. Silk, in whose genial friendship he had basked for so many months, had not treated him well. Indeed, it was a well-known fact in Willoughby that between these two precious friends there had been some sort of unpleasantness bordering on a row; and it was also reported that Gilks had come off worst in the affair.

This was the secret of that unfortunate youth’s toothache — he had been jilted by his familiar friend. Who would not feel sad under the circumstances?

And yet Gilks’s frame of mind was, so to speak, a good deal more black than blue. As he paced up and down the playground, rather like a wolf in a cage waiting for dinner, he was far more exercised to devise some way of making his faithless friend smart for his cruelty than to win back his affection.

When two good fellows fall out it is bad enough, but when two bad fellows fall out it may be even worse, for whereas in the former case one of the two is probably in the right, in the latter both are pretty certain to be in the wrong.

No one knew exactly what the quarrel had been about, or what, if any, were its merits, or whether it was a breaking off of all friendship or merely a passing breeze. Whatever it was, it was enough to give Gilks the “toothache” on this particular afternoon and keep him at Willoughby.

The hour that elapsed after call-over dragged heavily for every one. The three heads of houses, after their brief consultation, went their several ways — at least Bloomfield went his, while Riddell and Fairbairn solaced themselves in one another’s society.

“What is the use of keeping up this farce?” exclaimed Riddell, when they were back in his study. “Isn’t it a farce?”

“Not a bit of it. I don’t think much of this affair at all. Of course there’ll be a row, but it seems to me a case of temporary lunacy that we can’t be responsible for.”

“But the doctor holds me responsible.”

“You may be sure he won’t be down on you for this.”

“And then, isn’t it just a proof to the whole school that I’ve no more authority than the smallest junior? Look at that miserable notice there on the door. Who has cared a rap about it?”

“My dear fellow, you’re always flying off to despair whenever you get the chance. The same thing might have happened to any captain.”

“I wish some one else was captain,” said Riddell. “The fellows will mind what I say less than ever now. I’m sure I would gladly give it up to Bloomfield.”

“All bosh. You know you wouldn’t. And when you’ve got your head back you’ll laugh at yourself for thinking it. Besides, wasn’t Bloomfield every bit as much cut up about it as you or me? But,” added Fairbairn, “to change the subject, do you see much of young Wyndham now you’ve left us?”

“Not much. What about him?” asked Riddell, eagerly.

“Only I fancy he’s not all straight,” said Fairbairn. “He’s fallen into bad hands I’m afraid.”

“That’s an old story,” said Riddell; “but what has he done?”

“Nothing particular. I caught him coming home one night late, long after call-over. I ought to have reported him for it, but I thought I’d tell you first. It’s a pity for him, for he’s not a bad fellow.”

“I’d give anything to get him away from Silk!” said Riddell. “It seems a sort of infatuation with him, for he knows well enough Silk means him no good, and yet he’s thick with him. And now I expect he’ll cut me altogether since I refused him a permit to the town this afternoon.”

“He’s gone down all the same,” said Fairbairn.

“Yes, and not alone either,” replied Riddell.

“Hullo!” exclaimed Fairbairn just then, as a sudden sound broke the unwonted stillness of the deserted school, “that sounds like some of the fellows coming back.”

He was right. As the two seniors stood leaning out of the window, the sounds which at first had been little more than a distant murmur increased to a roar.

Willoughby was evidently returning in force, and anything but peacefully.

Cries of “Now then, school!”

“Hack it through, there!”

“Down with the Radicals!”

“Pony for ever!” mingled with yells and cheers and coarser shouts of “Down with the schoolboys!” indicated clearly enough that a lively battle was in progress, and that Willoughby was fighting its way home.

The whole town seemed to be coming at their heels, and more than once a pitched battle had to be decided before any progress could be made. But slowly and surely the discipline of the schoolboys, animated by the familiar words of command of the football-field, asserted itself above the ill-conditioned force of their assailants, and at every forward step the triumphant shout of “Pony for ever!” rose with a mighty cheer, which deafened all opposition cries.

In due time the playground gate was reached, amid tremendous cheering, and next moment, driving before them some of their demoralised opponents, the vanguard of the school burst in.

Even Riddell and Fairbairn, as they looked down on the scene, could hardly forbear a little natural pride on witnessing this triumphant charge home of their truant schoolfellows.

That the battle had been sore and desperate was evident by the limping gait, the torn clothes, and the damaged faces of some of the combatants as they swarmed in in an irresistible tide, amid the applause of their comrades and the howls of the baffled enemy, who raged vainly without like so many wild beasts robbed of their prey.

Among the last to fight their way in were Game, Ashley, Tipper, and a few other seniors, who, truants as they were, had yet, to their credit, assumed the place of danger in the rear, where the crowd pressed thickest and with most violence. A sorry spectacle were some of these heroes when finally they plunged into the playground and then turned at bay at the gate.

“All in!” shouted a voice, and immediately a rush was made to close the gates and prevent further entrance, when a loud cry of “Hold on, Willoughby! Rescue here!” held them back.

Riddell started at the sound, and next moment had vaulted from the low window to the ground, closely followed by Fairbairn.

“Rescue! rescue! Man down!” cried the school within.

“Keep them in! — shut them in!” cried the roughs without.

“It’s young Wyndham!” said Riddell, rushing wildly to the front; “he’ll be murdered!”

“Scrag him! — scrag the schoolboy!” yelled the roughs, making a rush in the direction of the cries.

Not a moment was to be lost; in another minute it might be too late to do any good, and, with a tremendous shout of “Rescue, Willoughby!” the school turned as wildly to get out of the playground as it had just now struggled to get in.

The captain and Fairbairn were the first to get through the gate, followed closely by the other seniors. Riddell was conscious of seeing young Wyndham lying a few yards off among the feet of the roughs, and of being himself carried forward to within reach of him; then of a blow from behind, which sent him forward, half-stunned, right on to the top of his young friend.

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