"Wherein
I [speak] of most disastrous
chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field,
Of hair-breadth 'scapes." - SHAKESPEARE.
When Tom came back into school
after a couple of days in the
sick-room, he found matters
much changed for the better,
as East had led him to expect.
Flashman's brutality had disgusted
most even of his intimate friends,
and his cowardice had once
more been made plain to the
house; for Diggs had encountered
him on the morning after the
lottery, and after high words
on both sides, had struck him,
and the blow was not returned.
However, Flashey was not unused
to this sort of thing, and
had lived through as awkward
affairs before, and, as Diggs
had said, fed and toadied himself
back into favour again. Two
or three of the boys who had
helped to roast Tom came up
and begged his pardon, and
thanked him for not telling
anything. Morgan sent for him,
and was inclined to take the
matter up warmly, but Tom begged
him not to do it; to which
he agreed, on Tom's promising
to come to him at once in future
- a promise which, I regret
to say, he didn't keep. Tom
kept Harkaway all to himself,
and won the second prize in
the lottery, some thirty shillings,
which he and East contrived
to spend in about three days
in the purchase of pictures
for their study, two new bats
and a cricket-ball - all the
best that could be got - and
a supper of sausages, kidneys,
and beef-steak pies to all
the rebels. Light come, light
go; they wouldn't have been
comfortable with money in their
pockets in the middle of the
half.
The embers
of Flashman's wrath, however,
were still smouldering,
and burst out every now and
then in sly blows and taunts,
and they both felt that they
hadn't quite done with him
yet. It wasn't long, however,
before the last act of that
drama came, and with it the
end of bullying for Tom and
East at Rugby. They now often
stole out into the hall at
nights, incited thereto partly
by the hope of finding Diggs
there and having a talk with
him, partly by the excitement
of doing something which was
against rules; for, sad to
say, both of our youngsters,
since their loss of character
for steadiness in their form,
had got into the habit of doing
things which were forbidden,
as a matter of adventure, -
just in the same way, I should
fancy, as men fall into smuggling,
and for the same sort of reasons
- thoughtlessness in the first
place. It never occurred to
them to consider why such and
such rules were laid down:
the reason was nothing to them,
and they only looked upon rules
as a sort of challenge from
the rule-makers, which it would
be rather bad pluck in them
not to accept; and then again,
in the lower parts of the school
they hadn't enough to do. The
work of the form they could
manage to get through pretty
easily, keeping a good enough
place to get their regular
yearly remove; and not having
much ambition beyond this,
their whole superfluous steam
was available for games and
scrapes. Now, one rule of the
house which it was a daily
pleasure of all such boys to
break was that after supper
all fags, except the three
on duty in the passages, should
remain in their own studies
until nine o'clock; and if
caught about the passages or
hall, or in one another's studies,
they were liable to punishments
or caning. The rule was stricter
than its observance; for most
of the sixth spent their evenings
in the fifth-form room, where
the library was, and the lessons
were learnt in common. Every
now and then, however, a prepostor
would be seized with a fit
of district visiting, and would
make a tour of the passages
and hall and the fags' studies.
Then, if the owner were entertaining
a friend or two, the first
kick at the door and ominous "Open
here" had the effect of
the shadow of a hawk over a
chicken-yard: every one cut
to cover - one small boy diving
under the sofa, another under
the table, while the owner
would hastily pull down a book
or two and open them, and cry
out in a meek voice, "Hullo,
who's there?" casting
an anxious eye round to see
that no protruding leg or elbow
could betray the hidden boys. "Open,
sir, directly; it's Snooks." "Oh,
I'm very sorry; I didn't know
it was you, Snooks." And
then with well-feigned zeal
the door would be opened, young
hopeful praying that that beast
Snooks mightn't have heard
the scuffle caused by his coming.
If a study was empty, Snooks
proceeded to draw the passages
and hall to find the truants.
Well, one evening, in forbidden
hours, Tom and East were in
the hall. They occupied the
seats before the fire nearest
the door, while Diggs sprawled
as usual before the farther
fire. He was busy with a copy
of verses, and East and Tom
were chatting together in whispers
by the light of the fire, and
splicing a favourite old fives
bat which had sprung. Presently
a step came down the bottom
passage. They listened a moment,
assured themselves that it
wasn't a prepostor, and then
went on with their work, and
the door swung open, and in
walked Flashman. He didn't
see Diggs, and thought it a
good chance to keep his hand
in; and as the boys didn't
move for him, struck one of
them, to make them get out
of his way.
"What's that for?" growled
the assaulted one.
"Because
I choose. You've no business
here. Go to your
study."
"You
can't send us."
"Can't I? Then I'll thrash
you if you stay," said
Flashman savagely.
"I say, you two," said
Diggs, from the end of the
hall, rousing up and resting
himself on his elbow - "you'll
never get rid of that fellow
till you lick him. Go in at
him, both of you. I'll see
fair play."
Flashman was
taken aback, and retreated
two steps. East
looked at Tom. "Shall
we try!" said he. "Yes," said
Tom desperately. So the two
advanced on Flashman, with
clenched fists and beating
hearts. They were about up
to his shoulder, but tough
boys of their age, and in perfect
training; while he, though
strong and big, was in poor
condition from his monstrous
habit of stuffing and want
of exercise. Coward as he was,
however, Flashman couldn't
swallow such an insult as this;
besides, he was confident of
having easy work, and so faced
the boys, saying, "You
impudent young blackguards!" Before
he could finish his abuse,
they rushed in on him, and
began pummelling at all of
him which they could reach.
He hit out wildly and savagely;
but the full force of his blows
didn't tell - they were too
near to him. It was long odds,
though, in point of strength;
and in another minute Tom went
spinning backwards over a form,
and Flashman turned to demolish
East with a savage grin. But
now Diggs jumped down from
the table on which he had seated
himself. "Stop there," shouted
he; "the round's over
- half-minute time allowed."
"What the - - is it to
you?" faltered Flashman,
who began to lose heart.
"I'm going to see fair,
I tell you," said Diggs,
with a grin, and snapping his
great red fingers; "'taint
fair for you to be fighting
one of them at a time. - Are
you ready, Brown? Time's up."
The small boys rushed in again.
Closing, they saw, was their
best chance, and Flashman was
wilder and more flurried than
ever: he caught East by the
throat, and tried to force
him back on the iron-bound
table. Tom grasped his waist,
and remembering the old throw
he had learned in the Vale
from Harry Winburn, crooked
his leg inside Flashman's,
and threw his whole weight
forward. The three tottered
for a moment, and then over
they went on to the floor,
Flashman striking his head
against a form in the hall.
The two youngsters
sprang to their legs, but
he lay there
still. They began to be frightened.
Tom stooped down, and then
cried out, scared out of his
wits, "He's bleeding awfully.
Come here, East! Diggs, he's
dying!"
"Not he," said Diggs,
getting leisurely off the table; "it's
all sham; he's only afraid
to fight it out."
East was as frightened as
Tom. Diggs lifted Flashman's
head, and he groaned.
"What's the matter?" shouted
Diggs.
"My skull's fractured," sobbed
Flashman.
"Oh, let me run for the
housekeeper!" cried Tom. "What
shall we do?"
"Fiddlesticks! It's nothing
but the skin broken," said
the relentless Diggs, feeling
his head. "Cold water
and a bit of rag's all he'll
want."
"Let me go," said
Flashman surlily, sitting up; "I
don't want your help."
"We're really very sorry
- " began East.
"Hang your sorrow!" answered
Flashman, holding his handkerchief
to the place; "you shall
pay for this, I can tell you,
both of you." And he walked
out of the hall.
"He can't be very bad," said
Tom, with a deep sigh, much
relieved to see his enemy march
so well.
"Not he," said Diggs; "and
you'll see you won't be troubled
with him any more. But, I say,
your head's broken too; your
collar is covered with blood."
"Is it though?" said
Tom, putting up his hand; "I
didn't know it."
"Well,
mop it up, or you'll have
your jacket spoilt.
And you have got a nasty eye,
Scud. You'd better go and bathe
it well in cold water."
"Cheap enough too, if
we're done with our old friend
Flashey," said East, as
they made off upstairs to bathe
their wounds.
They had done with Flashman
in one sense, for he never
laid finger on either of them
again; but whatever harm a
spiteful heart and venomous
tongue could do them, he took
care should be done. Only throw
dirt enough, and some of it
is sure to stick; and so it
was with the fifth form and
the bigger boys in general,
with whom he associated more
or less, and they not at all.
Flashman managed to get Tom
and East into disfavour, which
did not wear off for some time
after the author of it had
disappeared from the School
world. This event, much prayed
for by the small fry in general,
took place a few months after
the above encounter. One fine
summer evening Flashman had
been regaling himself on gin-punch,
at Brownsover; and, having
exceeded his usual limits,
started home uproarious. He
fell in with a friend or two
coming back from bathing, proposed
a glass of beer, to which they
assented, the weather being
hot, and they thirsty souls,
and unaware of the quantity
of drink which Flashman had
already on board. The short
result was, that Flashey became
beastly drunk. They tried to
get him along, but couldn't;
so they chartered a hurdle
and two men to carry him. One
of the masters came upon them,
and they naturally enough fled.
The flight of the rest raised
the master's suspicions, and
the good angel of the fags
incited him to examine the
freight, and, after examination,
to convoy the hurdle himself
up to the School-house; and
the Doctor, who had long had
his eye on Flashman, arranged
for his withdrawal next morning.
The evil that
men and boys too do lives
after them: Flashman
was gone, but our boys, as
hinted above, still felt the
effects of his hate. Besides,
they had been the movers of
the strike against unlawful
fagging. The cause was righteous
- the result had been triumphant
to a great extent; but the
best of the fifth —even
those who had never fagged
the small boys, or had given
up the practice cheerfully
- couldn't help feeling a small
grudge against the first rebels.
After all, their form had been
defied, on just grounds, no
doubt - so just, indeed, that
they had at once acknowledged
the wrong, and remained passive
in the strife. Had they sided
with Flashman and his set,
the rebels must have given
way at once. They couldn't
help, on the whole, being glad
that they had so acted, and
that the resistance had been
successful against such of
their own form as had shown
fight; they felt that law and
order had gained thereby, but
the ringleaders they couldn't
quite pardon at once. "Confoundedly
coxy those young rascals will
get, if we don't mind," was
the general feeling.
So it is, and must be always,
my dear boys. If the angel
Gabriel were to come down from
heaven, and head a successful
rise against the most abominable
and unrighteous vested interest
which this poor old world groans
under, he would most certainly
lose his character for many
years, probably for centuries,
not only with the upholders
of said vested interest, but
with the respectable mass of
the people whom he had delivered.
They wouldn't ask him to dinner,
or let their names appear with
his in the papers; they would
be very careful how they spoke
of him in the Palaver, or at
their clubs. What can we expect,
then, when we have only poor
gallant blundering men like
Kossuth, Garibaldi, Mazzini,
and righteous causes which
do not triumph in their hands
- men who have holes enough
in their armour, God knows,
easy to be hit by respectabilities
sitting in their lounging chairs,
and having large balances at
their bankers'? But you are
brave, gallant boys, who hate
easy-chairs, and have no balances
or bankers. You only want to
have your heads set straight,
to take the right side; so
bear in mind that majorities,
especially respectable ones,
are nine times out of ten in
the wrong; and that if you
see a man or boy striving earnestly
on the weak side, however wrong-headed
or blundering he may be, you
are not to go and join the
cry against him. If you can't
join him and help him, and
make him wiser, at any rate
remember that he has found
something in the world which
he will fight and suffer for,
which is just what you have
got to do for yourselves; and
so think and speak of him tenderly.
So East and Tom, the Tadpole,
and one or two more, became
a sort of young Ishmaelites,
their hands against every one,
and every one's hand against
them. It has been already told
how they got to war with the
masters and the fifth form,
and with the sixth it was much
the same. They saw the prepostors
cowed by or joining with the
fifth and shirking their own
duties; so they didn't respect
them, and rendered no willing
obedience. It had been one
thing to clean out studies
for sons of heroes like old
Brooke, but was quite another
to do the like for Snooks and
Green, who had never faced
a good scrummage at football,
and couldn't keep the passages
in order at night. So they
only slurred through their
fagging just well enough to
escape a licking, and not always
that, and got the character
of sulky, unwilling fags. In
the fifth-form room, after
supper, when such matters were
often discussed and arranged,
their names were for ever coming
up.
"I say, Green," Snooks
began one night, "isn't
that new boy, Harrison, your
fag?"
"Yes;
why?"
"Oh,
I know something of him at
home, and should
like to excuse him. Will you
swop?"
"Who
will you give me?"
"Well,
let's see. There's Willis,
Johnson. No, that won't
do. Yes, I have it. There's
young East; I'll give you him."
"Don't you wish you may
get it?" replied Green. "I'll
give you two for Willis, if
you like."
"Who, then?" asked
Snooks. "Hall and Brown."
"Wouldn't
have 'em at a gift."
"Better than East, though;
for they ain't quite so sharp," said
Green, getting up and leaning
his back against the mantelpiece.
He wasn't a bad fellow, and
couldn't help not being able
to put down the unruly fifth
form. His eye twinkled as he
went on, "Did I ever tell
you how the young vagabond
sold me last half?"
"No;
how?"
"Well,
he never half cleaned my
study out - only
just stuck the candlesticks
in the cupboard, and swept
the crumbs on to the floor.
So at last I was mortal angry,
and had him up, and made him
go through the whole performance
under my eyes. The dust the
young scamp made nearly choked
me, and showed that he hadn't
swept the carpet before. Well,
when it was all finished, 'Now,
young gentleman,' says I, 'mind,
I expect this to be done every
morning - floor swept, table-cloth
taken off and shaken, and everything
dusted.' 'Very well,' grunts
he. Not a bit of it though.
I was quite sure, in a day
or two, that he never took
the table-cloth off even. So
I laid a trap for him. I tore
up some paper, and put half
a dozen bits on my table one
night, and the cloth over them
as usual. Next morning after
breakfast up I came, pulled
off the cloth, and, sure enough,
there was the paper, which
fluttered down on to the floor.
I was in a towering rage. 'I've
got you now,' thought I, and
sent for him, while I got out
my cane. Up he came as cool
as you please, with his hands
in his pockets. 'Didn't I tell
you to shake my table- cloth
every morning?' roared I. 'Yes,'
says he. 'Did you do it this
morning?' 'Yes.' 'You young
liar! I put these pieces of
paper on the table last night,
and if you'd taken the table-
cloth off you'd have seen them,
so I'm going to give you a
good licking.' Then my youngster
takes one hand out of his pocket,
and just stoops down and picks
up two of the bits of paper,
and holds them out to me. There
was written on each, in great
round text, 'Harry East, his
mark.' The young rogue had
found my trap out, taken away
my paper, and put some of his
there, every bit ear-marked.
I'd a great mind to lick him
for his impudence; but, after
all, one has no right to be
laying traps, so I didn't.
Of course I was at his mercy
till the end of the half, and
in his weeks my study was so
frowzy I couldn't sit in it."
"They spoil one's things
so, too," chimed in a
third boy. "Hall and Brown
were night-fags last week.
I called 'fag,' and gave them
my candlesticks to clean. Away
they went, and didn't appear
again. When they'd had time
enough to clean them three
times over, I went out to look
after them. They weren't in
the passages so down I went
into the hall, where I heard
music; and there I found them
sitting on the table, listening
to Johnson, who was playing
the flute, and my candlesticks
stuck between the bars well
into the fire, red-hot, clean
spoiled. They've never stood
straight since, and I must
get some more. However, I gave
them a good licking; that's
one comfort."
Such were the sort of scrapes
they were always getting into;
and so, partly by their own
faults, partly from circumstances,
partly from the faults of others,
they found themselves outlaws,
ticket-of-leave men, or what
you will in that line - in
short, dangerous parties -
and lived the sort of hand-to-mouth,
wild, reckless life which such
parties generally have to put
up with. Nevertheless they
never quite lost favour with
young Brooke, who was now the
cock of the house, and just
getting into the sixth; and
Diggs stuck to them like a
man, and gave them store of
good advice, by which they
never in the least profited.
And even after the house mended,
and law and order had been
restored, which soon happened
after young Brooke and Diggs
got into the sixth, they couldn't
easily or at once return into
the paths of steadiness, and
many of the old, wild, out-of-bounds
habits stuck to them as firmly
as ever. While they had been
quite little boys, the scrapes
they got into in the School
hadn't much mattered to any
one; but now they were in the
upper school, all wrong-doers
from which were sent up straight
to the Doctor at once. So they
began to come under his notice;
and as they were a sort of
leaders in a small way amongst
their own contemporaries, his
eye, which was everywhere,
was upon them.
It was a toss-up
whether they turned out well
or ill, and
so they were just the boys
who caused most anxiety to
such a master. You have been
told of the first occasion
on which they were sent up
to the Doctor, and the remembrance
of it was so pleasant that
they had much less fear of
him than most boys of their
standing had. "It's all
his look," Tom used to
say to East, "that frightens
fellows. Don't you remember,
he never said anything to us
my first half-year for being
an hour late for locking-up?"
The next time that Tom came
before him, however, the interview
was of a very different kind.
It happened just about the
time at which we have now arrived,
and was the first of a series
of scrapes into which our hero
managed now to tumble.
The river
Avon at Rugby is a slow and
not very clear stream,
in which chub, dace, roach,
and other coarse fish are (or
were) plentiful enough, together
with a fair sprinkling of small
jack, but no fish worth sixpence
either for sport or food. It
is, however, a capital river
for bathing, as it has many
nice small pools and several
good reaches for swimming,
all within about a mile of
one another, and at an easy
twenty minutes' walk from the
school. This mile of water
is rented, or used to be rented,
for bathing purposes by the
trustees of the School, for
the boys. The footpath to Brownsover
crosses the river by "the
Planks," a curious old
single-plank bridge running
for fifty or sixty yards into
the flat meadows on each side
of the river - for in the winter
there are frequent floods.
Above the Planks were the bathing-places
for the smaller boys - Sleath's,
the first bathing-place, where
all new boys had to begin,
until they had proved to the
bathing men (three steady individuals,
who were paid to attend daily
through the summer to prevent
accidents) that they could
swim pretty decently, when
they were allowed to go on
to Anstey's, about one hundred
and fifty yards below. Here
there was a hole about six
feet deep and twelve feet across,
over which the puffing urchins
struggled to the opposite side,
and thought no small beer of
themselves for having been
out of their depths. Below
the Planks came larger and
deeper holes, the first of
which was Wratislaw's, and
the last Swift's, a famous
hole, ten or twelve feet deep
in parts, and thirty yards
across, from which there was
a fine swimming reach right
down to the mill. Swift's was
reserved for the sixth and
fifth forms, and had a spring
board and two sets of steps:
the others had one set of steps
each, and were used indifferently
by all the lower boys, though
each house addicted itself
more to one hole than to another.
The School-house at this time
affected Wratislaw's hole,
and Tom and East, who had learnt
to swim like fishes, were to
be found there as regular as
the clock through the summer,
always twice, and often three
times a day.
Now the boys
either had, or fancied they
had, a right also
to fish at their pleasure over
the whole of this part of the
river, and would not understand
that the right (if any) only
extended to the Rugby side.
As ill-luck would have it,
the gentleman who owned the
opposite bank, after allowing
it for some time without interference,
had ordered his keepers not
to let the boys fish on his
side - the consequence of which
had been that there had been
first wranglings and then fights
between the keepers and boys;
and so keen had the quarrel
become that the landlord and
his keepers, after a ducking
had been inflicted on one of
the latter, and a fierce fight
ensued thereon, had been up
to the great school at calling-over
to identify the delinquents,
and it was all the Doctor himself
and five or six masters could
do to keep the peace. Not even
his authority could prevent
the hissing; and so strong
was the feeling that the four
prepostors of the week walked
up the school with their canes,
shouting "S- s-s-s-i-lenc-c-c-c-e" at
the top of their voices. However,
the chief offenders for the
time were flogged and kept
in bounds; but the victorious
party had brought a nice hornet's
nest about their ears. The
landlord was hissed at the
School-gates as he rode past,
and when he charged his horse
at the mob of boys, and tried
to thrash them with his whip,
was driven back by cricket-
bats and wickets, and pursued
with pebbles and fives balls;
while the wretched keepers'
lives were a burden to them,
from having to watch the waters
so closely.
The School-house boys of Tom's
standing, one and all, as a
protest against this tyranny
and cutting short of their
lawful amusements, took to
fishing in all ways, and especially
by means of night-lines. The
little tacklemaker at the bottom
of the town would soon have
made his fortune had the rage
lasted, and several of the
barbers began to lay in fishing-tackle.
The boys had this great advantage
over their enemies, that they
spent a large portion of the
day in nature's garb by the
river-side, and so, when tired
of swimming, would get out
on the other side and fish,
or set night-lines, till the
keepers hove in sight, and
then plunge in and swim back
and mix with the other bathers,
and the keepers were too wise
to follow across the stream.
While things were in this
state, one day Tom and three
or four others were bathing
at Wratislaw's, and had, as
a matter of course, been taking
up and re-setting night-lines.
They had all left the water,
and were sitting or standing
about at their toilets, in
all costumes, from a shirt
upwards, when they were aware
of a man in a velveteen shooting-coat
approaching from the other
side. He was a new keeper,
so they didn't recognize or
notice him, till he pulled
up right opposite, and began:
"I see'd
some of you young gentlemen
over this side
a-fishing just now."
"Hullo!
who are you? What business
is that of yours,
old Velveteens?"
"I'm
the new under-keeper, and
master's told me to keep
a sharp lookout on all o' you
young chaps. And I tells 'ee
I means business, and you'd
better keep on your own side,
or we shall fall out."
"Well,
that's right, Velveteens;
speak out, and
let's know your mind at once."
"Look here, old boy," cried
East, holding up a miserable,
coarse fish or two and a small
jack; "would you like
to smell 'em and see which
bank they lived under?"
"I'll give you a bit
of advice, keeper," shouted
Tom, who was sitting in his
shirt paddling with his feet
in the river: "you'd better
go down there to Swift's, where
the big boys are; they're beggars
at setting lines, and'll put
you up to a wrinkle or two
for catching the five-pounders." Tom
was nearest to the keeper,
and that officer, who was getting
angry at the chaff, fixed his
eyes on our hero, as if to
take a note of him for future
use. Tom returned his gaze
with a steady stare, and then
broke into a laugh, and struck
into the middle of a favourite
School-house song,—
"As
I and my companions
Were setting of a snare
The gamekeeper was watching us;
For him we did not care:
For we can wrestle and fight, my boys,
And jump out anywhere.
For it's my delight of a likely night,
In the season of the year."
The chorus was taken up by
the other boys with shouts
of laughter, and the keeper
turned away with a grunt, but
evidently bent on mischief.
The boys thought no more of
the matter.
But now came on the May-fly
season; the soft, hazy summer
weather lay sleepily along
the rich meadows by Avon side,
and the green and gray flies
flickered with their graceful,
lazy up- and-down flight over
the reeds and the water and
the meadows, in myriads upon
myriads. The May-flies must
surely be the lotus- eaters
of the ephemerae - the happiest,
laziest, carelessest fly that
dances and dreams out his few
hours of sunshiny life by English
rivers.
Every little pitiful, coarse
fish in the Avon was on the
alert for the flies, and gorging
his wretched carcass with hundreds
daily, the gluttonous rogues!
and every lover of the gentle
craft was out to avenge the
poor May-flies.
So one fine Thursday afternoon,
Tom, having borrowed East's
new rod, started by himself
to the river. He fished for
some time with small success
- not a fish would rise at
him; but as he prowled along
the bank, he was presently
aware of mighty ones feeding
in a pool on the opposite side,
under the shade of a huge willow-tree.
The stream was deep here, but
some fifty yards below was
a shallow, for which he made
off hot-foot; and forgetting
landlords, keepers, solemn
prohibitions of the Doctor,
and everything else, pulled
up his trousers, plunged across,
and in three minutes was creeping
along on all fours towards
the clump of willows.
It isn't often
that great chub, or any other
coarse fish,
are in earnest about anything;
but just then they were thoroughly
bent on feeding, and in half
an hour Master Tom had deposited
three thumping fellows at the
foot of the giant willow. As
he was baiting for a fourth
pounder, and just going to
throw in again, he became aware
of a man coming up the bank
not one hundred yards off.
Another look told him that
it was the under-keeper. Could
he reach the shallow before
him? No, not carrying his rod.
Nothing for it but the tree.
So Tom laid his bones to it,
shinning up as fast as he could,
and dragging up his rod after
him. He had just time to reach
and crouch along upon a huge
branch some ten feet up, which
stretched out over the river,
when the keeper arrived at
the clump. Tom's heart beat
fast as he came under the tree;
two steps more and he would
have passed, when, as ill-luck
would have it, the gleam on
the scales of the dead fish
caught his eye, and he made
a dead point at the foot of
the tree. He picked up the
fish one by one; his eye and
touch told him that they had
been alive and feeding within
the hour. Tom crouched lower
along the branch, and heard
the keeper beating the clump. "If
I could only get the rod hidden," thought
he, and began gently shifting
it to get it alongside of him; "willowtrees
don't throw out straight hickory
shoots twelve feet long, with
no leaves, worse luck." Alas!
the keeper catches the rustle,
and then a sight of the rod,
and then of Tom's hand and
arm.
"Oh, be up ther', be
'ee?" says he, running
under the tree. "Now you
come down this minute."
"Tree'd at last," thinks
Tom, making no answer, and
keeping as close as possible,
but working away at the rod,
which he takes to pieces. "I'm
in for it, unless I can starve
him out." And then he
begins to meditate getting
along the branch for a plunge,
and scramble to the other side;
but the small branches are
so thick, and the opposite
bank so difficult, that the
keeper will have lots of time
to get round by the ford before
he can get out, so he gives
that up. And now he hears the
keeper beginning to scramble
up the trunk. That will never
do; so he scrambles himself
back to where his branch joins
the trunk; and stands with
lifted rod.
"Hullo,
Velveteens; mind your fingers
if you come any
higher."
The keeper
stops and looks up, and then
with a grin says, "Oh!
be you, be it, young measter?
Well, here's luck. Now I tells
'ee to come down at once, and
't'll be best for 'ee."
"Thank 'ee, Velveteens;
I'm very comfortable," said
Tom, shortening the rod in
his hand, and preparing for
battle.
"Werry well; please yourself," says
the keeper, descending, however,
to the ground again, and taking
his seat on the bank. "I
bean't in no hurry, so you
may take your time. I'll l'arn
'ee to gee honest folk names
afore I've done with 'ee."
"My luck as usual," thinks
Tom; "what a fool I was
to give him a black! If I'd
called him 'keeper,' now, I
might get off. The return match
is all his way."
The keeper
quietly proceeded to take
out his pipe, fill,
and light it, keeping an eye
on Tom, who now sat disconsolately
across the branch, looking
at keeper - a pitiful sight
for men and fishes. The more
he thought of it the less he
liked it. "It must be
getting near second calling-over," thinks
he. Keeper smokes on stolidly. "If
he takes me up, I shall be
flogged safe enough. I can't
sit here all night. Wonder
if he'll rise at silver."
"I say, keeper," said
he meekly, "let me go
for two bob?"
"Not for twenty neither," grunts
his persecutor.
And so they sat on till long
past second calling-over, and
the sun came slanting in through
the willow-branches, and telling
of locking-up near at hand.
"I'm coming down, keeper," said
Tom at last, with a sigh, fairly
tired out. "Now what are
you going to do?"
"Walk 'ee up to School,
and give 'ee over to the Doctor;
them's my orders," says
Velveteens, knocking the ashes
out of his fourth pipe, and
standing up and shaking himself.
"Very good," said
Tom; "but hands off, you
know. I'll go with you quietly,
so no collaring or that sort
of thing."
Keeper looked
at him a minute. "Werry
good," said he at last.
And so Tom descended, and wended
his way drearily by the side
of the keeper, up to the Schoolhouse,
where they arrived just at
locking-up. As they passed
the School-gates, the Tadpole
and several others who were
standing there caught the state
of things, and rushed out,
crying, "Rescue!" But
Tom shook his head; so they
only followed to the Doctor's
gate, and went back sorely
puzzled.
How changed
and stern the Doctor seemed
from the last
time that Tom was up there,
as the keeper told the story,
not omitting to state how Tom
had called him blackguard names. "Indeed,
sir," broke in the culprit, "it
was only Velveteens." The
Doctor only asked one question.
"You
know the rule about the banks,
Brown?"
"Yes,
sir."
"Then
wait for me to-morrow, after
first lesson."
"I thought so," muttered
Tom.
"And about the rod, sir?" went
on the keeper. "Master's
told we as we might have all
the rods - "
"Oh, please, sir," broke
in Tom, "the rod isn't
mine."
The Doctor looked puzzled;
but the keeper, who was a good-
hearted fellow, and melted
at Tom's evident distress,
gave up his claim. Tom was
flogged next morning, and a
few days afterwards met Velveteens,
and presented him with half
a crown for giving up the rod
claim, and they became sworn
friends; and I regret to say
that Tom had many more fish
from under the willow that
May-fly season, and was never
caught again by Velveteens.
It wasn't
three weeks before Tom, and
now East by his side,
were again in the awful presence.
This time, however, the Doctor
was not so terrible. A few
days before, they had been
fagged at fives to fetch the
balls that went off the court.
While standing watching the
game, they saw five or six
nearly new balls hit on the
top of the School. "I
say, Tom," said East,
when they were dismissed, "couldn't
we get those balls somehow?"
"Let's
try, anyhow."
So they reconnoitred the walls
carefully, borrowed a coal-hammer
from old Stumps, bought some
big nails, and after one or
two attempts, scaled the Schools,
and possessed themselves of
huge quantities of fives balls.
The place pleased them so much
that they spent all their spare
time there, scratching and
cutting their names on the
top of every tower; and at
last, having exhausted all
other places, finished up with
inscribing H.EAST, T.BROWN,
on the minute-hand of the great
clock; in the doing of which
they held the minute-hand,
and disturbed the clock's economy.
So next morning, when masters
and boys came trooping down
to prayers, and entered the
quadrangle, the injured minute-
hand was indicating three minutes
to the hour. They all pulled
up, and took their time. When
the hour struck, doors were
closed, and half the school
late. Thomas being set to make
inquiry, discovers their names
on the minute-hand, and reports
accordingly; and they are sent
for, a knot of their friends
making derisive and pantomimic
allusions to what their fate
will be as they walk off.
But the Doctor, after hearing
their story, doesn't make much
of it, and only gives them
thirty lines of Homer to learn
by heart, and a lecture on
the likelihood of such exploits
ending in broken bones.
Alas! almost the next day
was one of the great fairs
in the town; and as several
rows and other disagreeable
accidents had of late taken
place on these occasions, the
Doctor gives out, after prayers
in the morning, that no boy
is to go down into the town.
Wherefore East and Tom, for
no earthly pleasure except
that of doing what they are
told not to do, start away,
after second lesson, and making
a short circuit through the
fields, strike a back lane
which leads into the town,
go down it, and run plump upon
one of the masters as they
emerge into the High Street.
The master in question, though
a very clever, is not a righteous
man. He has already caught
several of his own pupils,
and gives them lines to learn,
while he sends East and Tom,
who are not his pupils, up
to the Doctor, who, on learning
that they had been at prayers
in the morning, flogs them
soundly.
The flogging
did them no good at the time,
for the injustice
of their captor was rankling
in their minds; but it was
just the end of the half, and
on the next evening but one
Thomas knocks at their door,
and says the Doctor wants to
see them. They look at one
another in silent dismay. What
can it be now? Which of their
countless wrong-doings can
he have heard of officially?
However, it's no use delaying,
so up they go to the study.
There they find the Doctor,
not angry, but very graver. "He
has sent for them to speak
to very seriously before they
go home. They have each been
flogged several times in the
half-year for direct and wilful
breaches of rules. This cannot
go on. They are doing no good
to themselves or others, and
now they are getting up in
the School, and have influence.
They seem to think that rules
are made capriciously, and
for the pleasure of the masters;
but this is not so. They are
made for the good of the whole
School, and must and shall
be obeyed. Those who thoughtlessly
or wilfully break them will
not be allowed to stay at the
School. He should be sorry
if they had to leave, as the
School might do them both much
good, and wishes them to think
very seriously in the holidays
over what he has said. Good-
night."
And so the two hurry off horribly
scared; the idea of having
to leave has never crossed
their minds, and is quite unbearable.
As they go out, they meet
at the door old Holmes, a sturdy,
cheery prepostor of another
house, who goes in to the Doctor;
and they hear his genial, hearty
greeting of the newcomer, so
different to their own reception,
as the door closes, and return
to their study with heavy hearts,
and tremendous resolves to
break no more rules.
Five minutes
afterwards the master of
their form - a late
arrival and a model young master
- knocks at the Doctor's study-
door. "Come in!" And
as he enters, the Doctor goes
on, to Holmes - "You see,
I do not know anything of the
case officially, and if I take
any notice of it at all, I
must publicly expel the boy.
I don't wish to do that, for
I think there is some good
in him. There's nothing for
it but a good sound thrashing." He
paused to shake hands with
the master, which Holmes does
also, and then prepares to
leave.
"I understand.
Good-night, sir."
"Good-night, Holmes.
And remember," added the
Doctor, emphasizing the words, "a
good sound thrashing before
the whole house."
The door closed
on Holmes; and the Doctor,
in answer to
the puzzled look of his lieutenant,
explained shortly. "A
gross case of bullying. Wharton,
the head of the house, is a
very good fellow, but slight
and weak, and severe physical
pain is the only way to deal
with such a case; so I have
asked Holmes to take it up.
He is very careful and trustworthy,
and has plenty of strength.
I wish all the sixth had as
much. We must have it here,
if we are to keep order at
all."
Now I don't
want any wiseacres to read
this book, but if they
should, of course they will
prick up their long ears, and
howl, or rather bray, at the
above story. Very good - I
don't object; but what I have
to add for you boys is this,
that Holmes called a levy of
his house after breakfast next
morning, made them a speech
on the case of bullying in
question, and then gave the
bully a "good sound thrashing;" and
that years afterwards, that
boy sought out Holmes, and
thanked him, saying it had
been the kindest act which
had ever been done upon him,
and the turning- point in his
character; and a very good
fellow he became, and a credit
to his School.
After some
other talk between them,
the Doctor said, "I
want to speak to you about
two boys in your form, East
and Brown. I have just been
speaking to them. What do you
think of them?"
"Well,
they are not hard workers,
and very thoughtless
and full of spirits; but I
can't help liking them. I think
they are sound, good fellows
at the bottom."
"I'm
glad of it. I think so too:
But they make me very
uneasy. They are taking the
lead a good deal amongst the
fags in my house, for they
are very active, bold fellows.
I should be sorry to lose them,
but I shan't let them stay
if I don't see them gaining
character and manliness. In
another year they may do great
harm to all the younger boys."
"Oh, I hope you won't
send them away," pleaded
their master.
"Not
if I can help it. But now
I never feel sure,
after any half-holiday, that
I shan't have to flog one of
them next morning, for some
foolish, thoughtless scrape.
I quite dread seeing either
of them."
They were both silent for
a minute. Presently the Doctor
began again:-
"They
don't feel that they have
any duty or work
to do in the school, and how
is one to make them feel it?"
"I think
if either of them had some
little boy to
take care of, it would steady
them. Brown is the most reckless
of the two, I should say. East
wouldn't get into so many scrapes
without him."
"Well," said the
Doctor, with something like
a sigh, "I'll think of
it." And they went on
to talk of other subjects.
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