Chapter Four.Down by the Penstock.It seemed a long time before we heard anything, but at last there were steps and voices which soon became plain, and, to my surprise, I found that they were talking about me.“Oh, he can’t fight, Dicksy,” said one voice, which I recognised as the tall boy’s—my namesake. “Those London chaps are all talk and no do. I shall give him a licking first chance, just to tame him down, and then you’d better have a go at him.”“You think he can’t fight, then?”“Tchah! not he. You can lick him with one hand.”“Then I will,” said Dicksee. “I wonder where he went.”“Off with that old Senna T-pot,” said Burr major scornfully. “He’s taken him with him to pick snails and frogs—an idiot! I hate that chap, Dicksy, he’s a beast.”“Yes, that he is.”“You can’t shake hands with him, because you never know what he’s touched last. I think the Doctor ought to be more particular about the sort of boys he—mumble—hum—hum hum hum!”The buzzing of a humble-bee, and then silence.“Ck!”“Eh?”“Ck!” ejaculated Mercer, uttering a stifled laugh. “Oh, I say, what a game, and us hearing every word. Thinks the Doctor ought to be more particular what sort of boys he has in the school. I suppose that’s meant for me. Well, my father is a gentleman, and could set his to make him a pair of trousers if he liked. Can’t shake hands with me, can’t he? Well, who wants him to? I wish I could fight, I’d make him smell my hands—my fists. He’d know then what they’d touched. But he can fight, and licked me horrid. Lie still yet, or they’ll see us get up; I thought they were in the cricket-field. Tired, I suppose. Such a fuss about making your hands a bit dirty. Daresay I keep ’em as clean as he does his. I say, got stung?”“A little,” I said.“Never mind; dock’s the thing to cure that. All right. Gone. Now then, over the stile, and do as I do.”He crept over the stile, and into the field, and began to run down beside the hedge in a stooping position, while I followed suit, and we did not rise up till we gained the shelter of the trees.“There we are! This is the beginning of the woods. Oh, it’s such a place!”“You’ve been before, then?” I said, as we began to wind in and out among large beech-trees, whose smooth grey trunks were spotted with creamy and green moss.“Lots of times. I go everywhere when I can get away. It’s a famous place here for moths. There’s old Dame Durden again. This way—now down here; we shall soon be there.”I followed him for about a quarter of an hour through the dim, mossy glades of the grand old wood, till all at once it grew lighter, and we stepped out beside a broad sheet of water dotted with lilies and patches of rush and reed, while about fifty yards farther along the bank of the broad pool there was a roughly-thatched boat-house, with a mossy old punt moored to one of the posts by a rusty chain.“Now, then, what do you think of this, eh?” said Mercer.I looked round at the smooth sheet of water glistening in the bright sunshine, completely shut in by giant old trees whose great branches hung down over the sides and even dipped their ends and seemed to be repeated in the mirror-like surface. Here I could see silvery lily-blossoms, and there others of gold floating like cups amongst the broad round leaves, and, turning from the beautiful picture to my companion, I could only say two words:“It’s glorious!”“I should think it is,” he cried. “We two are going to have no end of fun together. You don’t mind the other boys bullying you, and old Reb snarling and finding fault, and the Doctor boxing your ears with your books, when you’ve got places like this to come to. Hi! look at the old moorhen, there, with her young ones,” and he pointed to a curious-looking bird swimming about and flicking its black and white tail, as it went in and out among the rushes growing in the water, with six little sooty-looking, downy young ones swimming after it. “Ever see one of them before?”“No,” I said. “There’s another over there too.”“No, it isn’t; that’s a bald coot. It’s got a white shield on the top of its head, and the moorhen’s got a red one like sealing-wax. Hi! look at that!”For all of a sudden there was a rush and splash close to the reeds, and the moorhen and five young ones went through the water with a dash to hide among the reeds.“Know what that was?”“They saw us, and were frightened. Or did some one throw a big stone?”“There’s no one to throw big stones here. That was Mr Jack.”“Well, did he throw stones?” I said wonderingly.“No! What a fellow you are! A jack—a pike—a big fish—took one of the young moorhens for his dinner.”“Why, I thought pike lived on fish,” I cried.“They live on anything. I’ve seen them swallow young ducks and water-rats and frogs—anything they can get. We’ll come and set a trimmer for that gentleman some day.”“I suppose I’m very stupid,” I said; “but I’ve always lived in London, and have very seldom been in the country. I don’t know anything about birds and fish.”“You soon will. There’s always something to see here. Herons come sometimes, but they don’t stop, because it’s too deep for them to wade except in one place; and there’s a hawk’s nest over yonder in an old fir-tree, but Bob Hopley shot the old birds, and you can see ’em nailed up against his lodge. There was a magpie’s nest, too, up in a big elm tree not far off; but never mind them now. Let’s catch some—Hist! look there. See ’em?”“No,” I said, looking down into the water where he pointed.“Come here. Lie down flat, and slowly peep over the bank through that grass. Go softly, or you’ll frighten them off. Then look down.”I did as he told me, and as I looked down into the clear, deep water, that looked almost black from its depth, I could see quite a shoal of fish, with their sides barred with dark stripes, sailing slowly about between me and the dead leaves and rotten branches which strewed the bottom of the pool.“See ’em?”“Yes,” I whispered; “perch, aren’t they?”“Why, I thought you knew nothing about fish.”“I’ve seen pictures of them in books,” I said, “of course.”“Yes, perch, all but that black, soft-looking chap close to the bottom. He’s a tench. But come on, and let’s get the rods.”He led the way to the boat-house, a green strip of coarse grass about five feet wide leading to the rough building, and Mercer looked longingly at the boat, which was half full of water.“We’ll try her some day,” he said; “but she seems very leaky. Here we are.”As he spoke, he took a couple of rough-looking, unjointed rods from where they were laid across some pegs driven into the side of the building just below the thatch eaves.“All right,” he said, examining the stout, strong silk lines twisted lightly about them, and the hooks stuck in pieces of cork which were bound on to the butts of the rods. “Now, then, come for the worms.”He leaned the rods up against the roof of the boat-house, and led me into the open-sided building, where, as described by the keeper, we found an old watering-pot half full of moss, and in this damp moss, and below it, an abundance of fresh, lively-looking worms.“All right. Now for some fish. This way. Take your rod, I’ll carry the pot. That’s where we’re going.”He pointed to where the pool narrowed, and ran up among the trees almost to a point, where I could see some woodwork, and a post standing up in the middle, with a series of holes pierced through it, and as we walked round by the grassy margin which led to the spot,—“There, that’s the place,” cried Mercer. “That’s the penstock.”“And what’s a penstock.”“Don’t you see. They pull up that post, and poke a peg in one of those holes, and that keeps it open, so as the water can run out down that gully behind there through the wood. It’s to empty the pond. There used to be hundreds of years ago a great forge there, and the water turned a wheel to work the big hammers when they used to dig iron here, and melt it with charcoal. But never mind that, I want to catch some fish. Now, then, walk out along that woodwork. There’s just room for us both on the top of the penstock, and we’ll fish from there. Mind how you go, for it’s precious deep.”It looked ugly, and the old oak beams and piles were moist, and nearly covered with moss; but I stepped out, and reached the little platform through which the upright post ran, and turned round to look for my companion, who was by my side directly after.“There,” he said; “there isn’t too much room.”“Shall I go and fish from the bank?” I said.“Oh no, we’ll manage. Don’t talk loud, only whisper, and don’t move about. I don’t believe that fishes can hear all the same. There,” he added, as he baited my hook, “that’s old Magglin’s way. Let’s see, are you deep enough. Yes, that will do. Throw in.”I dropped in my line, Mercer followed suit, and then, in the midst of the profound stillness of the lonely place, we stood on our little square platform, leaning against the post, watching the white tops of the cork floats, and waiting.“As you’ve been fishing before, you know what to do,” whispered Mercer; “only don’t be in a hurry, give ’em plenty of time, and don’t strike till they take your float right down.”Half an hour passed away, and my attention began to be drawn from my float to watch the birds that sailed over the pool, or the swallows that skimmed it in search of flies.“Not deep enough,” said Mercer suddenly, and, taking out his line, he adjusted the float higher up, and I followed his example.Then we began to fish again; but with no better result, and I looked round at Mercer.“Oh, it’s no use to be in a hurry,” he said. “Sometimes they won’t bite, and then you have to wait till they will. But look, something’s at mine.”I looked at his float, which had given a slight bob, and then another; but that was all.“Off again. Didn’t want worms,” he said; “wants paste.”There was another long pause.“Not deep enough,” said Mercer again. “Ought to have plumbed the depth.”He altered his float, and I did the same, and we compared them to see that they were about alike, and the fishing went on, till my companion decided that we ought to have fresh worms, and selected a fine fresh one for my hook, and one for his own before throwing the old ones out into the water.“Well, now,” he cried, “look at that!”I was already looking, for before the old baits had gone down many inches, we saw them both seized by largish fish, which seemed to dart out of some lilies a short distance to our left.“What are you going to do?” I said.“Wait a minute and I’ll show you,” he whispered, laughing, and after attaching the bait, he brought down the floats till they were only about a foot away from the hooks. “Now then, do as I do. Throw your line out as near as you can to those floating leaves.”He threw his own very cleverly, so that the bait dropped into the water with hardly a splash, and I followed his example.“Too far,” he said, as my bait dropped on to a lily leaf, but the weight of the shot drew it slowly off the dark green leaf, and it glided into the water.“I’ve got a bite,” said Mercer, in an excited whisper. “Hi, look out! Strike! strike!” he cried, for at that moment the white top of my float descended suddenly, rose again and then began to glide in a sloping direction along the edge of the lily bed.I gave the rod a sharp, upward motion, and a thrill ran up my arm, as I felt the line tighten, and a curious tugging commence.“Hurrah! you’ve got him. Don’t let him go into the weeds, or you’ll lose it. Keep your rod up, and you’ll have the gentleman.”I heard all his instructions, but in the flurry of holding my first fish I did nothing but what, as the rod and line were both strong, was for the best. That is to say, I held my rod with both hands, and kept it nearly upright, while the fish I had hooked darted here and there, and tried vainly to make a dive down for the bottom.“It’s all right,” said Mercer breathlessly. “It’s a big one, and you must have him. Don’t hurry.”“Is it very big?” I whispered excitedly.“I think it is—over a pound, I should say. Let him get tired, or he’ll break away. Ah, it’s of no use, you’re caught fast, old gentleman, whatever you are. It’s a big carp or a tench. I think it’s a carp, it’s so strong.”The struggle went on for fully five minutes before the fish gave in.“Now we’ve got to land it,” said Mercer. “Can’t do it here, or he’ll break away. I know. Give me your rod to hold. That’s it. Now you go back, and I’ll pass it to you.”He laid his own tackle down, and I walked carefully along the narrow woodwork, back to the shore, while he drew the fish round, and then reached toward me, till I could catch hold of the rod and feel the fish still feebly struggling.The next minute Mercer was by my side, the fish was drawn in close up amongst the sedge growing on the bank. My companion went down flat, reached a hand into the water, and scooped out my capture, which lay now flapping feebly in all the glory of its golden scale armour, a short, thick, broad-backed carp.“There,” cried Mercer, “didn’t I tell you this was a grand place? Why, it must be a two-pounder;” and I stood gloating over the vividly-bright colour of my capture, while Mercer knelt down, took out the hook, and finally deposited the fish in a hollow, and covered it with fern fronds.“Look! look!” I cried just then.“Oh, bother! Why, there’s one on,” said Mercer. “Here, give me your rod;” and he stepped quickly out on to the penstock, and made a cast with my line, trying to throw it over the top part of his own rod, which was slowly sailing away, floating on the water with a curious motion going on at the end, which kept diving down, as if something was trying to draw it under water.It was all plain enough: a fish had hooked itself, and at the first tug, the light bamboo rod had glided off the penstock, to act as a big, long float, for the cork was deep down somewhere out of sight.I followed on to the penstock, and stood by as cast after cast was made, always cleverly over the rod, but the hook glided back on being drawn without taking hold.It was plain enough that in a few minutes the rod would be drawn out of reach, when Mercer made a more lucky cast, for in drawing back, the hook had caught a part of the other line, and directly after there was a steady tightening.“Hah!” ejaculated Mercer, and he drew in steadily till his own rod was within reach, and I lay down, leaned out as far as I could, and strained to reach it.“Take care. Hold tight. It’s horrid deep here. Mind, or you’ll be in.”But I was holding tightly by part of the woodwork, and, after a few more efforts, I touched the butt of the rod with the tips of my fingers, pushing it away, for it to rise again right into my hand, and I rose with it, safe.“Give it to me. Take yours,” cried Mercer, when the exchange was made, and I saw his face light up as he began to play a good-sized fish, but with my hook still attached to his line.“It’s a big one,” he panted, as the struggle went on, with, the fish fighting now to reach the water-lilies, but without success. “That wouldn’t do,” he cried. “If he once got in there, he’d wind the weeds about the line, and break away.”So, by steady force, the fish was led back, and again I went ashore first, took Mercer’s rod, and held it while he scooped out, and threw high our second capture, which proved to be another carp, nearly, but not quite so big as mine.We were soon fishing again from our old place, but without the slightest success now, the struggles with our golden prisoners having apparently scared away all the other fish.“This won’t do,” said Mercer at last; “we shall have to try somewhere else. Here, I forgot all about Jem Roff; and look at ’em.”“Look at what?”“Why, the eels. Can’t you see them?”“No.”“Why, look at those bubbles coming up. That’s eels at work stirring up the mud at the bottom, or coming out of their holes. We’ll soon talk to them.”His way of talking to the eels was to raise the floats so high, that, after trying several times, it became evident that he had adjusted the depth so that the bait touched the ground, and the floats lay half over on their sides.“Now then,” he said, after examining the worms, “we ought to catch old Jem’s supper pretty soon. Throw in there, near me.”I did as I was told, and the patient waiting began again, with changes of baits and moves in fresh positions, but without result, and I was beginning to get rather tired and hungry, when my companion said dolefully,—“Don’t seem to bite. They won’t begin till it’s nearly dusk, and we shall have to go back before very long, for we must have some tea. Wonder whether cook’ll give us some meat? I know: we’ll get some eggs of Polly Hopley; she’ll boil ’em for us, and we’ll take ’em back.”We fished for another hour.“It’s no good,” said Mercer; “I’m very sorry. I wanted you to catch a big eel, and then you’d want to come again, and now you won’t care about it.”“Oh yes, I shall,” I said. “It was worth coming too, even if we didn’t catch any more fish.”“You think so? Look! you’ve got him!”For my float was bobbing gently, and moving slowly away.“No, no, don’t strike. Yes—let him have it. That’s an eel biting, and he will not leave it. You’ll see.”The gentle bob, bob, bob of the float went on as it glided slowly away foot after foot, till I could bear the excitement no longer, and I turned my eyes to my companion as if to say, “Do let me strike now—strike gently.”“Yes,” he cried, “he must have got it;” and I struck gently, and felt directly as if the hook was in a stump or a dead branch at the bottom of the pool.“It isn’t a fish,” I said, looking at Mercer.“What is it then?” he replied, laughing. “It’s an eel.”“But it don’t move or run about.”“You wait a minute. It’s an eel, and a big one.”My acquaintance with eels so far had been upon the slabs at the fishmonger’s shops, or in pieces browned and garnished with fried parsley, and my line remained so tight and still that I still doubted my companion’s words.“He has got his tail in a hole, or twined about a stump.”“But don’t you think the hook’s in a stump?”“I never knew a stump bite at a worm, and run away with your float. There, he’s loose now. Keep him up, and don’t let him go down low again.”I heard his words, but felt that all I could do was to let the eel go where it liked. For it started the fight by swinging its head rapidly from side to side in a succession of sharp jerks, and then began to make the line and the top of the rod quiver, as it worked its way backward, trying to descend to the bottom, while my efforts were, of course, directed towards pulling it to the top.“That’s right; you’ve got him fast,” said Mercer. “It’s of no use to try and play him, he’ll keep on like that for long enough. Give me the rod while you get back to the bank. Then you must pull him out quickly, right up on to the grass, and put your foot upon him. Not afraid of eels, are you?”“I don’t know,” I said.“Because the big ones will bite—hard.”I handed the rod, and walked back along the woodwork that was like the isthmus of our tiny wooden peninsula, and as soon as I was ashore, Mercer left his rod again, and handed me mine, following directly after, as I felt the snaky-looking creature writhing and undulating at the end of the line, sending quite a galvanic thrill up my arms the while.“Now then,” said Mercer, “pull steady; and when it is near the top, run it right out on to the grass.”I tried to obey his orders; but when I saw the creature keeping up its rapid serpentine motion, I felt disposed to let it go down again into its watery depths. I did not, however, but gradually swept the point of my rod round, drawing my prisoner nearly to the bank, and then with one good swing drew it right out on to the grass, where, in an instant, it tied itself right up in a knot, with the line twisted about it.“Oh my, what a mess!” cried Mercer, coming to my help. “Ugh! you nasty, slimy wretch! Mind, or he’ll be off back into the— Ah, would you?”He seized the line, and drew the eel farther from the water’s edge, waiting his opportunity, which came directly, for the fish rapidly untwined itself, plunged its head amongst the grass, and began to make its way like a snake when its course was checked by Mercer’s foot planted firmly behind its head.“Ugh! how cruel!” I said.“Serve him right. He’s grown to be as big as this by catching and eating all the poor little fish that went near him. He’s good to eat too, and what a big one! Why, he must be over a pound. Oh my, what a mess!” he continued. “He has swallowed the hook right down, and there’s no getting it out till he’s dead. Here, give me your handkerchief, I’ll use mine when I catch one.”I took out my handkerchief, and by his directions spread it upon the grass, when he raised his foot, lifted up the line, and the fish again twisted itself into a knot.“That’s the way,” he said. “Now then, I’ll drop him gently on to the handkerchief, and you take the cross corners and tie them over him tight, and then the other two. Ready?”“Yes,” I said, feeling no little repugnance to the slimy creature, but getting first one knot and then the other fast over the big round writhing fish, and this done to my companion’s satisfaction, he whipped out his knife and cut the line.“There,” he said, “we mustn’t lose sight of him, or he’ll eat his way out if he don’t find another way through the folds. No; I think he’s safe. I’ll hang him here.”“Here” was the rugged stump of a small branch of one of the nearest trees.“Now,” he said, “I’ll try and catch one too before we go, and we shan’t have done so very badly.”“But you’ve cut my hook off,” I said. “How am I to fish?”“You’ll have to watch me, for I haven’t another hook. Come along. We mustn’t stop much longer, or we shan’t be back to tea. Stand your rod up against that tree.”He was already half-way back to the penstock and caught up his rod, but no fish had attacked it this time, and we stood side by side once more, leaning against the post, watching his float, as he tried first in one place, then in another, without success.“We shall have to give it up and go,” he said at last. “We must get back to tea. We’ll give the carp to Polly Hopley, she likes fish, and the eel too.”“Look! a bite,” I whispered, for I distinctly saw a slight quivering of the top of the float.“No,” he said despondently. “I did that, shaking the top of the rod. I’m not so lucky as you. Yes, it is. Hooray!”For the faint quiver was repeated, then there were one or two little bobs, then others, and at last the float began to dance slowly away toward the shore.“He has got it, and is going to take it to his hole,” whispered Mercer. “But he don’t go here to-night. He’s going into the frying-pan, I think. Hah! Got him!”For he now struck sharply, and the rod bent tremendously. There was no steady, motionless pull here, but a fierce shaking of the head and a hard, vibratory tugging at the line.“Bigger than yours,” he cried. “A thumper! My, how he pulls! Ah, would you? No, you don’t, my fine fellow. He wants to get to the bank, I suppose, but he’s coming out here into deep water, where there’s nothing to twist about, and he’s not going ashore till I go first.”Just then the eel made a rush first in one direction, then in another, but with a heavy pressure kept up, and the rod bending nearly double. Then it made a rush for the shore, and Mercer raised the point of his rod and stepped back, while I uttered a cry, for the rod had struck me sharply on the ear.But it was not at the blow, but at the tremendous splash, for, forgetful in his excitement of where he stood, Mercer’s step was off the narrow penstock right into the deep water, and as I clung to the post with one hand, I was looking down into the huge bubbling ring he had made, to see first the rod come up, then Mercer’s hand, and then his face, close to his floating cap, but quite a dozen feet away from where I stood.I was too much startled to move for a few moments, while Mercer beat the water with his hands frantically for a bit, and then went under again, but rose and called to me hoarsely,—“Help!”“Swim!” I shouted. “Swim!” But he only gazed at me wildly, and I saw him go down again.For an instant or two I stood as if turned to stone, then a thought struck me, and I ran along the woodwork to where I had left my rod, and, without thinking of the danger and the narrowness of the path, I ran back again in time to see Mercer rise again, beating the water frantically.“Here, quick!” I shouted. “Catch hold;” and I held out the thin bamboo pole to him, but it did not reach within a couple of yards of where he was beating the water.But it had its effect upon him. It was a chance for life, and in a curious laboured way he struck out now to swim, but came on very slowly, being hampered in some way by his own rod.“Oh, try, try, try!” I shouted, and I saw him set his teeth and swim on desperately till one hand closed upon the thin bamboo, and then the other caught hold.“Tight! Hold tight,” I shouted, and, dropping on my knees, I began to draw the rod through my hands slowly, as if it was a rope, my eyes feeling as if they were starting as I saw his wild pallid face and set teeth, for I was in momentary dread that he would let go.It seemed long enough before I had drawn him within reach and snatched at one of his wrists, then at the other, drawing myself back so as to get him closer. Then I got tight hold of his jacket collar, and, as I did so, my knees glided away from me back over the other side of the penstock, and a curious sickening sensation came over me. The water and Mercer’s white face were blurred and swimming before me, and I was fast losing consciousness, but the faintness was not much more than momentary, and the sickening sensation began to wear away as rapidly as it came, as I fully realised the fact that I was half off the little platform, with my legs in the water, but holding my companion all the time with a desperate clutch, while he clung as tightly to my wrists.Then I tried to speak, but at first no words came, and it was all like some terrible dream.At last, though, the power of utterance came, and I cried loudly, in a voice which did not seem like mine,—“I’ve got you safe. Now climb out.”He did not move, only gazed wildly in my eyes till he seemed to irritate me.“Do you hear, you coward?” I half screamed; “climb out on to here. Do you want me to fall right in?”Still he did not reply, and I shouted at him again in my despairing rage, for a curious sensation of weakness crept through me, and the horrible thought came that sooner or later I must let him go.“Do you hear? Don’t play the fool. Climb out.”“Can’t,” he said in a husky whisper. “I tried—hard.”“Try again.”In obedience to my fierce order, he made an effort, splashing the water a little, but ceased directly, and gazed at me wildly still.“Can’t. Line—round my legs.”His words sent a flash of light through me, for they explained his miserable attempts to swim, and I realised that the stout silk line had been twisted about him by the eel in its efforts to escape.“Try again,” I said in a voice as husky as his own. “You must.”He struggled feebly, but gave up at once.“I can’t,” he groaned. “No strength.”The poor fellow seemed paralysed, save that I could feel his hands grasping me with a clutch that did not relax for a moment, as I lay there on my chest, thinking what I must do. It was evident that I should get no help from him: for the shock of the accident, and his discovery that he was fast bound and helpless, had completely unnerved him, and it was plain to me that before long his desperate clutch would relax, and, when I could hold him no longer, he would sink back and drown before my eyes.I looked despairingly round, but only to see deep water, and the bank so near and yet so far, for it was out of reach.At last my mind was made up. I would get my knees on the penstock again, and then by main force drag him out, at all events into a sitting position, where I could hold him against the post while he recovered sufficiently to walk to the shore.I waited a few moments, and then began, but to my horror found that my feet glided over the slimy, rotten woodwork of the piles beneath the water, and that I could get no hold anywhere. If I could have had my hands free for a few moments, it would have been easy enough, but I dared not let go of him, and, after a brief and weakening struggle, I gave up, and hung over panting, with for the only result the feeling that the water was now farther up my legs than before.I soon got my breath again, and made a fresh effort, but with a worse result, and this was repeated till a chilly sensation of dread ran through me, and I felt half stunned at the horror of my position.Then I recovered a little. “Mercer,” I said, “do you feel rested now?”He did not speak, only looked at me in a curious, half vacant way, and I shivered, for this was, I felt sure, the first step toward his losing consciousness and loosening his hold.“I say,” I cried, “don’t give up like that. You’ve got to climb up on to these boards. I’m going to help you, but I can’t unless you help me too.”There was no reply, only the same fixed stare in his dilated eyes, and in my horror I looked wildly round at the place I had thought so beautiful, but which was now all terrible to me, and felt how utterly we were away from help.I began again, twining my legs now about the nearest post, and this enabled me to hold on, but I could get up no farther. I tried, though, to drag Mercer on to the woodwork, but my position crippled me, and I should have required double the muscular power I possessed.I believe I made other trials, but a curious sensation of weakness and confusion was coming over me, as I uttered one after the other my loud cries for help.It was horrible, and yet it seemed ridiculous that we two lads could not struggle up there into safety; but though I thought so then, I have often felt since that in my cramped position I was loaded down, as it were, with my companion’s weight.The end seemed to be coming fast. I had no dread for myself, since I felt that, once free of Mercer’s tight clutch and the hold I had upon him, I could grasp the far edge of the woodwork, draw myself farther up, and sit and rest. But before I could do this I knew that he would have sunk away from me, and in a confused fashion I began to wonder whether I should hear him scream out as he was drowning, or whether he would sink down gently without a sound.I shouted again, but my voice sounded weak, and as if it did not penetrate the trees which closed us in, and now it seemed to be all over, for the horrible sense of faintness was returning fast, and I made one more desperate effort before I felt that I too was going to sink back into the black water; and in that wild last fit of energy I uttered what was quite a shriek, and then felt half choked by the spasm of joy that seemed to rise into my throat.For from quite close at hand there came quite a cheery,—“Hillo!”“Here—quick—help!” I gasped; and then I was silent, and hearing a loud ejaculation, as I felt the wood of the penstock tremble.“All right. Hold tight, lad,” said a familiar voice, and a hand grasped my collar. “I’ve got you, and I’ve got him too. Here, can you climb out?”“If—if you can hold him,” I said.“I can hold him, and give you a help too. That’s the way—get tight hold of the edge, draw yourself up. Well done. Now sit down, and put your arm round the post.”I had been conscious of a strong hand grasping my waistband and giving me a drag up, and now I was sitting trembling and holding tightly by the post.“Now then, Master Mercer, don’t stare like that, lad. I’ve got you safe. There, out you come. My word, you’re wet! Stop a moment, though; you’d better try and get ashore before I pull him right out. There ain’t room for three of us. Can you manage it now?”“Yes,” I said, standing up with my teeth chattering.“Sure? Don’t tumble in.”“I can do it,” I said, and, trembling the while as if cold, I walked dripping along the woodwork to the shore, where I sank down on the grass as if my legs had suddenly given way, and crouched there watching, as I saw the man from the farm, Jem Roff, with his arm round Mercer, whom he had lifted right out, bring him streaming with water to the shore, and the fishing-rod behind, while, as he lowered him on to the grass, there was a horrible writhe from something wet close to me, which made me start away.“What have you two chaps been at?” cried Roff wonderingly. “The line’s all twissen round his legs,—and hold hard a minute till I get my knife. I must have that eel.”
It seemed a long time before we heard anything, but at last there were steps and voices which soon became plain, and, to my surprise, I found that they were talking about me.
“Oh, he can’t fight, Dicksy,” said one voice, which I recognised as the tall boy’s—my namesake. “Those London chaps are all talk and no do. I shall give him a licking first chance, just to tame him down, and then you’d better have a go at him.”
“You think he can’t fight, then?”
“Tchah! not he. You can lick him with one hand.”
“Then I will,” said Dicksee. “I wonder where he went.”
“Off with that old Senna T-pot,” said Burr major scornfully. “He’s taken him with him to pick snails and frogs—an idiot! I hate that chap, Dicksy, he’s a beast.”
“Yes, that he is.”
“You can’t shake hands with him, because you never know what he’s touched last. I think the Doctor ought to be more particular about the sort of boys he—mumble—hum—hum hum hum!”
The buzzing of a humble-bee, and then silence.
“Ck!”
“Eh?”
“Ck!” ejaculated Mercer, uttering a stifled laugh. “Oh, I say, what a game, and us hearing every word. Thinks the Doctor ought to be more particular what sort of boys he has in the school. I suppose that’s meant for me. Well, my father is a gentleman, and could set his to make him a pair of trousers if he liked. Can’t shake hands with me, can’t he? Well, who wants him to? I wish I could fight, I’d make him smell my hands—my fists. He’d know then what they’d touched. But he can fight, and licked me horrid. Lie still yet, or they’ll see us get up; I thought they were in the cricket-field. Tired, I suppose. Such a fuss about making your hands a bit dirty. Daresay I keep ’em as clean as he does his. I say, got stung?”
“A little,” I said.
“Never mind; dock’s the thing to cure that. All right. Gone. Now then, over the stile, and do as I do.”
He crept over the stile, and into the field, and began to run down beside the hedge in a stooping position, while I followed suit, and we did not rise up till we gained the shelter of the trees.
“There we are! This is the beginning of the woods. Oh, it’s such a place!”
“You’ve been before, then?” I said, as we began to wind in and out among large beech-trees, whose smooth grey trunks were spotted with creamy and green moss.
“Lots of times. I go everywhere when I can get away. It’s a famous place here for moths. There’s old Dame Durden again. This way—now down here; we shall soon be there.”
I followed him for about a quarter of an hour through the dim, mossy glades of the grand old wood, till all at once it grew lighter, and we stepped out beside a broad sheet of water dotted with lilies and patches of rush and reed, while about fifty yards farther along the bank of the broad pool there was a roughly-thatched boat-house, with a mossy old punt moored to one of the posts by a rusty chain.
“Now, then, what do you think of this, eh?” said Mercer.
I looked round at the smooth sheet of water glistening in the bright sunshine, completely shut in by giant old trees whose great branches hung down over the sides and even dipped their ends and seemed to be repeated in the mirror-like surface. Here I could see silvery lily-blossoms, and there others of gold floating like cups amongst the broad round leaves, and, turning from the beautiful picture to my companion, I could only say two words:
“It’s glorious!”
“I should think it is,” he cried. “We two are going to have no end of fun together. You don’t mind the other boys bullying you, and old Reb snarling and finding fault, and the Doctor boxing your ears with your books, when you’ve got places like this to come to. Hi! look at the old moorhen, there, with her young ones,” and he pointed to a curious-looking bird swimming about and flicking its black and white tail, as it went in and out among the rushes growing in the water, with six little sooty-looking, downy young ones swimming after it. “Ever see one of them before?”
“No,” I said. “There’s another over there too.”
“No, it isn’t; that’s a bald coot. It’s got a white shield on the top of its head, and the moorhen’s got a red one like sealing-wax. Hi! look at that!”
For all of a sudden there was a rush and splash close to the reeds, and the moorhen and five young ones went through the water with a dash to hide among the reeds.
“Know what that was?”
“They saw us, and were frightened. Or did some one throw a big stone?”
“There’s no one to throw big stones here. That was Mr Jack.”
“Well, did he throw stones?” I said wonderingly.
“No! What a fellow you are! A jack—a pike—a big fish—took one of the young moorhens for his dinner.”
“Why, I thought pike lived on fish,” I cried.
“They live on anything. I’ve seen them swallow young ducks and water-rats and frogs—anything they can get. We’ll come and set a trimmer for that gentleman some day.”
“I suppose I’m very stupid,” I said; “but I’ve always lived in London, and have very seldom been in the country. I don’t know anything about birds and fish.”
“You soon will. There’s always something to see here. Herons come sometimes, but they don’t stop, because it’s too deep for them to wade except in one place; and there’s a hawk’s nest over yonder in an old fir-tree, but Bob Hopley shot the old birds, and you can see ’em nailed up against his lodge. There was a magpie’s nest, too, up in a big elm tree not far off; but never mind them now. Let’s catch some—Hist! look there. See ’em?”
“No,” I said, looking down into the water where he pointed.
“Come here. Lie down flat, and slowly peep over the bank through that grass. Go softly, or you’ll frighten them off. Then look down.”
I did as he told me, and as I looked down into the clear, deep water, that looked almost black from its depth, I could see quite a shoal of fish, with their sides barred with dark stripes, sailing slowly about between me and the dead leaves and rotten branches which strewed the bottom of the pool.
“See ’em?”
“Yes,” I whispered; “perch, aren’t they?”
“Why, I thought you knew nothing about fish.”
“I’ve seen pictures of them in books,” I said, “of course.”
“Yes, perch, all but that black, soft-looking chap close to the bottom. He’s a tench. But come on, and let’s get the rods.”
He led the way to the boat-house, a green strip of coarse grass about five feet wide leading to the rough building, and Mercer looked longingly at the boat, which was half full of water.
“We’ll try her some day,” he said; “but she seems very leaky. Here we are.”
As he spoke, he took a couple of rough-looking, unjointed rods from where they were laid across some pegs driven into the side of the building just below the thatch eaves.
“All right,” he said, examining the stout, strong silk lines twisted lightly about them, and the hooks stuck in pieces of cork which were bound on to the butts of the rods. “Now, then, come for the worms.”
He leaned the rods up against the roof of the boat-house, and led me into the open-sided building, where, as described by the keeper, we found an old watering-pot half full of moss, and in this damp moss, and below it, an abundance of fresh, lively-looking worms.
“All right. Now for some fish. This way. Take your rod, I’ll carry the pot. That’s where we’re going.”
He pointed to where the pool narrowed, and ran up among the trees almost to a point, where I could see some woodwork, and a post standing up in the middle, with a series of holes pierced through it, and as we walked round by the grassy margin which led to the spot,—
“There, that’s the place,” cried Mercer. “That’s the penstock.”
“And what’s a penstock.”
“Don’t you see. They pull up that post, and poke a peg in one of those holes, and that keeps it open, so as the water can run out down that gully behind there through the wood. It’s to empty the pond. There used to be hundreds of years ago a great forge there, and the water turned a wheel to work the big hammers when they used to dig iron here, and melt it with charcoal. But never mind that, I want to catch some fish. Now, then, walk out along that woodwork. There’s just room for us both on the top of the penstock, and we’ll fish from there. Mind how you go, for it’s precious deep.”
It looked ugly, and the old oak beams and piles were moist, and nearly covered with moss; but I stepped out, and reached the little platform through which the upright post ran, and turned round to look for my companion, who was by my side directly after.
“There,” he said; “there isn’t too much room.”
“Shall I go and fish from the bank?” I said.
“Oh no, we’ll manage. Don’t talk loud, only whisper, and don’t move about. I don’t believe that fishes can hear all the same. There,” he added, as he baited my hook, “that’s old Magglin’s way. Let’s see, are you deep enough. Yes, that will do. Throw in.”
I dropped in my line, Mercer followed suit, and then, in the midst of the profound stillness of the lonely place, we stood on our little square platform, leaning against the post, watching the white tops of the cork floats, and waiting.
“As you’ve been fishing before, you know what to do,” whispered Mercer; “only don’t be in a hurry, give ’em plenty of time, and don’t strike till they take your float right down.”
Half an hour passed away, and my attention began to be drawn from my float to watch the birds that sailed over the pool, or the swallows that skimmed it in search of flies.
“Not deep enough,” said Mercer suddenly, and, taking out his line, he adjusted the float higher up, and I followed his example.
Then we began to fish again; but with no better result, and I looked round at Mercer.
“Oh, it’s no use to be in a hurry,” he said. “Sometimes they won’t bite, and then you have to wait till they will. But look, something’s at mine.”
I looked at his float, which had given a slight bob, and then another; but that was all.
“Off again. Didn’t want worms,” he said; “wants paste.”
There was another long pause.
“Not deep enough,” said Mercer again. “Ought to have plumbed the depth.”
He altered his float, and I did the same, and we compared them to see that they were about alike, and the fishing went on, till my companion decided that we ought to have fresh worms, and selected a fine fresh one for my hook, and one for his own before throwing the old ones out into the water.
“Well, now,” he cried, “look at that!”
I was already looking, for before the old baits had gone down many inches, we saw them both seized by largish fish, which seemed to dart out of some lilies a short distance to our left.
“What are you going to do?” I said.
“Wait a minute and I’ll show you,” he whispered, laughing, and after attaching the bait, he brought down the floats till they were only about a foot away from the hooks. “Now then, do as I do. Throw your line out as near as you can to those floating leaves.”
He threw his own very cleverly, so that the bait dropped into the water with hardly a splash, and I followed his example.
“Too far,” he said, as my bait dropped on to a lily leaf, but the weight of the shot drew it slowly off the dark green leaf, and it glided into the water.
“I’ve got a bite,” said Mercer, in an excited whisper. “Hi, look out! Strike! strike!” he cried, for at that moment the white top of my float descended suddenly, rose again and then began to glide in a sloping direction along the edge of the lily bed.
I gave the rod a sharp, upward motion, and a thrill ran up my arm, as I felt the line tighten, and a curious tugging commence.
“Hurrah! you’ve got him. Don’t let him go into the weeds, or you’ll lose it. Keep your rod up, and you’ll have the gentleman.”
I heard all his instructions, but in the flurry of holding my first fish I did nothing but what, as the rod and line were both strong, was for the best. That is to say, I held my rod with both hands, and kept it nearly upright, while the fish I had hooked darted here and there, and tried vainly to make a dive down for the bottom.
“It’s all right,” said Mercer breathlessly. “It’s a big one, and you must have him. Don’t hurry.”
“Is it very big?” I whispered excitedly.
“I think it is—over a pound, I should say. Let him get tired, or he’ll break away. Ah, it’s of no use, you’re caught fast, old gentleman, whatever you are. It’s a big carp or a tench. I think it’s a carp, it’s so strong.”
The struggle went on for fully five minutes before the fish gave in.
“Now we’ve got to land it,” said Mercer. “Can’t do it here, or he’ll break away. I know. Give me your rod to hold. That’s it. Now you go back, and I’ll pass it to you.”
He laid his own tackle down, and I walked carefully along the narrow woodwork, back to the shore, while he drew the fish round, and then reached toward me, till I could catch hold of the rod and feel the fish still feebly struggling.
The next minute Mercer was by my side, the fish was drawn in close up amongst the sedge growing on the bank. My companion went down flat, reached a hand into the water, and scooped out my capture, which lay now flapping feebly in all the glory of its golden scale armour, a short, thick, broad-backed carp.
“There,” cried Mercer, “didn’t I tell you this was a grand place? Why, it must be a two-pounder;” and I stood gloating over the vividly-bright colour of my capture, while Mercer knelt down, took out the hook, and finally deposited the fish in a hollow, and covered it with fern fronds.
“Look! look!” I cried just then.
“Oh, bother! Why, there’s one on,” said Mercer. “Here, give me your rod;” and he stepped quickly out on to the penstock, and made a cast with my line, trying to throw it over the top part of his own rod, which was slowly sailing away, floating on the water with a curious motion going on at the end, which kept diving down, as if something was trying to draw it under water.
It was all plain enough: a fish had hooked itself, and at the first tug, the light bamboo rod had glided off the penstock, to act as a big, long float, for the cork was deep down somewhere out of sight.
I followed on to the penstock, and stood by as cast after cast was made, always cleverly over the rod, but the hook glided back on being drawn without taking hold.
It was plain enough that in a few minutes the rod would be drawn out of reach, when Mercer made a more lucky cast, for in drawing back, the hook had caught a part of the other line, and directly after there was a steady tightening.
“Hah!” ejaculated Mercer, and he drew in steadily till his own rod was within reach, and I lay down, leaned out as far as I could, and strained to reach it.
“Take care. Hold tight. It’s horrid deep here. Mind, or you’ll be in.”
But I was holding tightly by part of the woodwork, and, after a few more efforts, I touched the butt of the rod with the tips of my fingers, pushing it away, for it to rise again right into my hand, and I rose with it, safe.
“Give it to me. Take yours,” cried Mercer, when the exchange was made, and I saw his face light up as he began to play a good-sized fish, but with my hook still attached to his line.
“It’s a big one,” he panted, as the struggle went on, with, the fish fighting now to reach the water-lilies, but without success. “That wouldn’t do,” he cried. “If he once got in there, he’d wind the weeds about the line, and break away.”
So, by steady force, the fish was led back, and again I went ashore first, took Mercer’s rod, and held it while he scooped out, and threw high our second capture, which proved to be another carp, nearly, but not quite so big as mine.
We were soon fishing again from our old place, but without the slightest success now, the struggles with our golden prisoners having apparently scared away all the other fish.
“This won’t do,” said Mercer at last; “we shall have to try somewhere else. Here, I forgot all about Jem Roff; and look at ’em.”
“Look at what?”
“Why, the eels. Can’t you see them?”
“No.”
“Why, look at those bubbles coming up. That’s eels at work stirring up the mud at the bottom, or coming out of their holes. We’ll soon talk to them.”
His way of talking to the eels was to raise the floats so high, that, after trying several times, it became evident that he had adjusted the depth so that the bait touched the ground, and the floats lay half over on their sides.
“Now then,” he said, after examining the worms, “we ought to catch old Jem’s supper pretty soon. Throw in there, near me.”
I did as I was told, and the patient waiting began again, with changes of baits and moves in fresh positions, but without result, and I was beginning to get rather tired and hungry, when my companion said dolefully,—
“Don’t seem to bite. They won’t begin till it’s nearly dusk, and we shall have to go back before very long, for we must have some tea. Wonder whether cook’ll give us some meat? I know: we’ll get some eggs of Polly Hopley; she’ll boil ’em for us, and we’ll take ’em back.”
We fished for another hour.
“It’s no good,” said Mercer; “I’m very sorry. I wanted you to catch a big eel, and then you’d want to come again, and now you won’t care about it.”
“Oh yes, I shall,” I said. “It was worth coming too, even if we didn’t catch any more fish.”
“You think so? Look! you’ve got him!”
For my float was bobbing gently, and moving slowly away.
“No, no, don’t strike. Yes—let him have it. That’s an eel biting, and he will not leave it. You’ll see.”
The gentle bob, bob, bob of the float went on as it glided slowly away foot after foot, till I could bear the excitement no longer, and I turned my eyes to my companion as if to say, “Do let me strike now—strike gently.”
“Yes,” he cried, “he must have got it;” and I struck gently, and felt directly as if the hook was in a stump or a dead branch at the bottom of the pool.
“It isn’t a fish,” I said, looking at Mercer.
“What is it then?” he replied, laughing. “It’s an eel.”
“But it don’t move or run about.”
“You wait a minute. It’s an eel, and a big one.”
My acquaintance with eels so far had been upon the slabs at the fishmonger’s shops, or in pieces browned and garnished with fried parsley, and my line remained so tight and still that I still doubted my companion’s words.
“He has got his tail in a hole, or twined about a stump.”
“But don’t you think the hook’s in a stump?”
“I never knew a stump bite at a worm, and run away with your float. There, he’s loose now. Keep him up, and don’t let him go down low again.”
I heard his words, but felt that all I could do was to let the eel go where it liked. For it started the fight by swinging its head rapidly from side to side in a succession of sharp jerks, and then began to make the line and the top of the rod quiver, as it worked its way backward, trying to descend to the bottom, while my efforts were, of course, directed towards pulling it to the top.
“That’s right; you’ve got him fast,” said Mercer. “It’s of no use to try and play him, he’ll keep on like that for long enough. Give me the rod while you get back to the bank. Then you must pull him out quickly, right up on to the grass, and put your foot upon him. Not afraid of eels, are you?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Because the big ones will bite—hard.”
I handed the rod, and walked back along the woodwork that was like the isthmus of our tiny wooden peninsula, and as soon as I was ashore, Mercer left his rod again, and handed me mine, following directly after, as I felt the snaky-looking creature writhing and undulating at the end of the line, sending quite a galvanic thrill up my arms the while.
“Now then,” said Mercer, “pull steady; and when it is near the top, run it right out on to the grass.”
I tried to obey his orders; but when I saw the creature keeping up its rapid serpentine motion, I felt disposed to let it go down again into its watery depths. I did not, however, but gradually swept the point of my rod round, drawing my prisoner nearly to the bank, and then with one good swing drew it right out on to the grass, where, in an instant, it tied itself right up in a knot, with the line twisted about it.
“Oh my, what a mess!” cried Mercer, coming to my help. “Ugh! you nasty, slimy wretch! Mind, or he’ll be off back into the— Ah, would you?”
He seized the line, and drew the eel farther from the water’s edge, waiting his opportunity, which came directly, for the fish rapidly untwined itself, plunged its head amongst the grass, and began to make its way like a snake when its course was checked by Mercer’s foot planted firmly behind its head.
“Ugh! how cruel!” I said.
“Serve him right. He’s grown to be as big as this by catching and eating all the poor little fish that went near him. He’s good to eat too, and what a big one! Why, he must be over a pound. Oh my, what a mess!” he continued. “He has swallowed the hook right down, and there’s no getting it out till he’s dead. Here, give me your handkerchief, I’ll use mine when I catch one.”
I took out my handkerchief, and by his directions spread it upon the grass, when he raised his foot, lifted up the line, and the fish again twisted itself into a knot.
“That’s the way,” he said. “Now then, I’ll drop him gently on to the handkerchief, and you take the cross corners and tie them over him tight, and then the other two. Ready?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling no little repugnance to the slimy creature, but getting first one knot and then the other fast over the big round writhing fish, and this done to my companion’s satisfaction, he whipped out his knife and cut the line.
“There,” he said, “we mustn’t lose sight of him, or he’ll eat his way out if he don’t find another way through the folds. No; I think he’s safe. I’ll hang him here.”
“Here” was the rugged stump of a small branch of one of the nearest trees.
“Now,” he said, “I’ll try and catch one too before we go, and we shan’t have done so very badly.”
“But you’ve cut my hook off,” I said. “How am I to fish?”
“You’ll have to watch me, for I haven’t another hook. Come along. We mustn’t stop much longer, or we shan’t be back to tea. Stand your rod up against that tree.”
He was already half-way back to the penstock and caught up his rod, but no fish had attacked it this time, and we stood side by side once more, leaning against the post, watching his float, as he tried first in one place, then in another, without success.
“We shall have to give it up and go,” he said at last. “We must get back to tea. We’ll give the carp to Polly Hopley, she likes fish, and the eel too.”
“Look! a bite,” I whispered, for I distinctly saw a slight quivering of the top of the float.
“No,” he said despondently. “I did that, shaking the top of the rod. I’m not so lucky as you. Yes, it is. Hooray!”
For the faint quiver was repeated, then there were one or two little bobs, then others, and at last the float began to dance slowly away toward the shore.
“He has got it, and is going to take it to his hole,” whispered Mercer. “But he don’t go here to-night. He’s going into the frying-pan, I think. Hah! Got him!”
For he now struck sharply, and the rod bent tremendously. There was no steady, motionless pull here, but a fierce shaking of the head and a hard, vibratory tugging at the line.
“Bigger than yours,” he cried. “A thumper! My, how he pulls! Ah, would you? No, you don’t, my fine fellow. He wants to get to the bank, I suppose, but he’s coming out here into deep water, where there’s nothing to twist about, and he’s not going ashore till I go first.”
Just then the eel made a rush first in one direction, then in another, but with a heavy pressure kept up, and the rod bending nearly double. Then it made a rush for the shore, and Mercer raised the point of his rod and stepped back, while I uttered a cry, for the rod had struck me sharply on the ear.
But it was not at the blow, but at the tremendous splash, for, forgetful in his excitement of where he stood, Mercer’s step was off the narrow penstock right into the deep water, and as I clung to the post with one hand, I was looking down into the huge bubbling ring he had made, to see first the rod come up, then Mercer’s hand, and then his face, close to his floating cap, but quite a dozen feet away from where I stood.
I was too much startled to move for a few moments, while Mercer beat the water with his hands frantically for a bit, and then went under again, but rose and called to me hoarsely,—
“Help!”
“Swim!” I shouted. “Swim!” But he only gazed at me wildly, and I saw him go down again.
For an instant or two I stood as if turned to stone, then a thought struck me, and I ran along the woodwork to where I had left my rod, and, without thinking of the danger and the narrowness of the path, I ran back again in time to see Mercer rise again, beating the water frantically.
“Here, quick!” I shouted. “Catch hold;” and I held out the thin bamboo pole to him, but it did not reach within a couple of yards of where he was beating the water.
But it had its effect upon him. It was a chance for life, and in a curious laboured way he struck out now to swim, but came on very slowly, being hampered in some way by his own rod.
“Oh, try, try, try!” I shouted, and I saw him set his teeth and swim on desperately till one hand closed upon the thin bamboo, and then the other caught hold.
“Tight! Hold tight,” I shouted, and, dropping on my knees, I began to draw the rod through my hands slowly, as if it was a rope, my eyes feeling as if they were starting as I saw his wild pallid face and set teeth, for I was in momentary dread that he would let go.
It seemed long enough before I had drawn him within reach and snatched at one of his wrists, then at the other, drawing myself back so as to get him closer. Then I got tight hold of his jacket collar, and, as I did so, my knees glided away from me back over the other side of the penstock, and a curious sickening sensation came over me. The water and Mercer’s white face were blurred and swimming before me, and I was fast losing consciousness, but the faintness was not much more than momentary, and the sickening sensation began to wear away as rapidly as it came, as I fully realised the fact that I was half off the little platform, with my legs in the water, but holding my companion all the time with a desperate clutch, while he clung as tightly to my wrists.
Then I tried to speak, but at first no words came, and it was all like some terrible dream.
At last, though, the power of utterance came, and I cried loudly, in a voice which did not seem like mine,—
“I’ve got you safe. Now climb out.”
He did not move, only gazed wildly in my eyes till he seemed to irritate me.
“Do you hear, you coward?” I half screamed; “climb out on to here. Do you want me to fall right in?”
Still he did not reply, and I shouted at him again in my despairing rage, for a curious sensation of weakness crept through me, and the horrible thought came that sooner or later I must let him go.
“Do you hear? Don’t play the fool. Climb out.”
“Can’t,” he said in a husky whisper. “I tried—hard.”
“Try again.”
In obedience to my fierce order, he made an effort, splashing the water a little, but ceased directly, and gazed at me wildly still.
“Can’t. Line—round my legs.”
His words sent a flash of light through me, for they explained his miserable attempts to swim, and I realised that the stout silk line had been twisted about him by the eel in its efforts to escape.
“Try again,” I said in a voice as husky as his own. “You must.”
He struggled feebly, but gave up at once.
“I can’t,” he groaned. “No strength.”
The poor fellow seemed paralysed, save that I could feel his hands grasping me with a clutch that did not relax for a moment, as I lay there on my chest, thinking what I must do. It was evident that I should get no help from him: for the shock of the accident, and his discovery that he was fast bound and helpless, had completely unnerved him, and it was plain to me that before long his desperate clutch would relax, and, when I could hold him no longer, he would sink back and drown before my eyes.
I looked despairingly round, but only to see deep water, and the bank so near and yet so far, for it was out of reach.
At last my mind was made up. I would get my knees on the penstock again, and then by main force drag him out, at all events into a sitting position, where I could hold him against the post while he recovered sufficiently to walk to the shore.
I waited a few moments, and then began, but to my horror found that my feet glided over the slimy, rotten woodwork of the piles beneath the water, and that I could get no hold anywhere. If I could have had my hands free for a few moments, it would have been easy enough, but I dared not let go of him, and, after a brief and weakening struggle, I gave up, and hung over panting, with for the only result the feeling that the water was now farther up my legs than before.
I soon got my breath again, and made a fresh effort, but with a worse result, and this was repeated till a chilly sensation of dread ran through me, and I felt half stunned at the horror of my position.
Then I recovered a little. “Mercer,” I said, “do you feel rested now?”
He did not speak, only looked at me in a curious, half vacant way, and I shivered, for this was, I felt sure, the first step toward his losing consciousness and loosening his hold.
“I say,” I cried, “don’t give up like that. You’ve got to climb up on to these boards. I’m going to help you, but I can’t unless you help me too.”
There was no reply, only the same fixed stare in his dilated eyes, and in my horror I looked wildly round at the place I had thought so beautiful, but which was now all terrible to me, and felt how utterly we were away from help.
I began again, twining my legs now about the nearest post, and this enabled me to hold on, but I could get up no farther. I tried, though, to drag Mercer on to the woodwork, but my position crippled me, and I should have required double the muscular power I possessed.
I believe I made other trials, but a curious sensation of weakness and confusion was coming over me, as I uttered one after the other my loud cries for help.
It was horrible, and yet it seemed ridiculous that we two lads could not struggle up there into safety; but though I thought so then, I have often felt since that in my cramped position I was loaded down, as it were, with my companion’s weight.
The end seemed to be coming fast. I had no dread for myself, since I felt that, once free of Mercer’s tight clutch and the hold I had upon him, I could grasp the far edge of the woodwork, draw myself farther up, and sit and rest. But before I could do this I knew that he would have sunk away from me, and in a confused fashion I began to wonder whether I should hear him scream out as he was drowning, or whether he would sink down gently without a sound.
I shouted again, but my voice sounded weak, and as if it did not penetrate the trees which closed us in, and now it seemed to be all over, for the horrible sense of faintness was returning fast, and I made one more desperate effort before I felt that I too was going to sink back into the black water; and in that wild last fit of energy I uttered what was quite a shriek, and then felt half choked by the spasm of joy that seemed to rise into my throat.
For from quite close at hand there came quite a cheery,—
“Hillo!”
“Here—quick—help!” I gasped; and then I was silent, and hearing a loud ejaculation, as I felt the wood of the penstock tremble.
“All right. Hold tight, lad,” said a familiar voice, and a hand grasped my collar. “I’ve got you, and I’ve got him too. Here, can you climb out?”
“If—if you can hold him,” I said.
“I can hold him, and give you a help too. That’s the way—get tight hold of the edge, draw yourself up. Well done. Now sit down, and put your arm round the post.”
I had been conscious of a strong hand grasping my waistband and giving me a drag up, and now I was sitting trembling and holding tightly by the post.
“Now then, Master Mercer, don’t stare like that, lad. I’ve got you safe. There, out you come. My word, you’re wet! Stop a moment, though; you’d better try and get ashore before I pull him right out. There ain’t room for three of us. Can you manage it now?”
“Yes,” I said, standing up with my teeth chattering.
“Sure? Don’t tumble in.”
“I can do it,” I said, and, trembling the while as if cold, I walked dripping along the woodwork to the shore, where I sank down on the grass as if my legs had suddenly given way, and crouched there watching, as I saw the man from the farm, Jem Roff, with his arm round Mercer, whom he had lifted right out, bring him streaming with water to the shore, and the fishing-rod behind, while, as he lowered him on to the grass, there was a horrible writhe from something wet close to me, which made me start away.
“What have you two chaps been at?” cried Roff wonderingly. “The line’s all twissen round his legs,—and hold hard a minute till I get my knife. I must have that eel.”
Chapter Five.“He’s a two and a half pounder, he is,” said Jem Roff as, after a bit of a struggle, he got tight hold of the writhing monster. “My word,” he continued, holding it down, “he’s a strong un! Here, you just slip your hand into my jacket pocket and get out my knife. Open it, will you?”I followed out his instructions, and handed him the opened knife, when with one clever cut he divided the eel’s backbone, and its writhings almost ceased.“There,” continued Jem, taking hold of the line, “let’s get you off. What a tangle! why, it’s reg’lar twissen all about your ankles. I must break it. Why, it’s tough as—look ye here,” he continued, tugging at the plaited silk, “it’s strong enough to hold a whale. I shall have to cut it. Bob Hopley won’t mind.”Snick, and the line was divided, the eel thrown down, and Jem began to untwine the line from about Mercer’s legs, as the poor fellow, looking terribly white and scared, now sat up on the grass, looking dolefully from one to the other.“My heye! you do look like a drownded rat, master,” said Jem, chuckling. “Lucky I come, warn’t it?”I looked angrily at the man, for he seemed horribly unfeeling, and then, turning to Mercer,—“How are you now?” I said.“Very wet,” he replied feebly.“Raw, haw!” laughed Jem. “There, get up, you’re clear now. Couldn’t swim a bit like that.”“No,” said Mercer, getting up shivering, and shaking the water from his hair.“Worse disasters at sea, lads. Here, come on along o’ me. Let’s put the rods back again;” and, taking the one he had dragged ashore with Mercer, he whipped the line round the other and pulled it ashore, swung the lines round both, and trotted with them to the boat-house, where he laid them on the pegs, and then came back to where we stood, so utterly upset that neither of us had spoken a word.“Now then,” cried Jem, taking hold of the scrap of line to which the eel was attached and twisting it round his finger. “This all you caught?”“No,” I said helplessly; “there’s an eel in that handkerchief hanging on the tree.”Jem dropped the big eel again and trotted to the tree.“Big as t’other?” he said. “Raw, haw! Here’s the hankerchy, but there’s no eel. Look ye here, he’s worked a hole through and gone. You didn’t kill him first?”“It must be down there,” I said.“Down here!” said Jem contemptuously; “he’s found his way back to the water again. Eels goos through the grass like snakes. Ketch anything else?”“Two carp,” I said. “Here they are.”“Ah, that’s better, and all alive, oh! I’ll carry ’em. Come along.”He thrust a twig of willow through the gills of the fish, and led the way through the woods, and across some fields to a cottage, where a woman came to the door.“Here, missus,” he said, “pitch some more wood on the fire. Young squire here stepped into the pond.”“Oh, a mercy me!” cried the woman. “Pore dear, he do look bad.”“Not he. All right again direckly. You let him warm himself, and I’ll run up to the schoolhouse and fetch him some dry clothes.”“No,” cried Mercer, rousing himself now. “We’ll both run up, and get in without any one seeing us, and go and change our things.”“Ay, that’ll be best,” said Jem; “and, if I was you, I’d start at once. Run all the way, and it’ll warm you up.”“Yes. Thank you for coming and helping us,” said Mercer, who had now quite found his tongue.“Oh, that’s all right,” said the man jocularly. “That’s a fine eel, but don’t fish for ’em that way again. Going in after ’em ain’t the best way; you see they’re quicker, and more used to the water than you are.”Mercer shuddered.“Come along, Burr,” he said feebly.“Wait a minute. Here’s your eel and the carp. Where’s that there rush basket, missus?”“Oh, we don’t want the fish,” said Mercer, with a shiver. “Come along, Burr.”He hurried out of the cottage, and into a lane. “Keep listening,” he said. “If you hear any one, we’ll go across the fields.”“There’s some one coming now,” I said.“Oh dear! it’s old Rebble. He hasn’t seen us. This way.”He stooped down, and ran to a gate, crept through, and then, leading the way, he walked fast along by the side of a hedge till we had crossed one field, and then began to trot, seeming to get stronger every minute, while I followed, with my wet trousers clinging to my legs, and the water going “suck suck” in my boots.We crossed two or three fields, and then Mercer drew up, panting, and with the natural colour coming back into his face.“We’ll walk now,” he said, “and go right round, and slip in through the garden. Perhaps we can get in and up to our room without being seen.”“Yes, do,” I said, looking dolefully at my wet legs, and my jacket all covered with green from the penstock. “Feel better now?”“Yes, I’m getting all right. I say, didn’t I seem like a horrid coward?”“I don’t think so,” I said. “It was enough to frighten anybody.”Mercer was silent for a few minutes. Then he began again.“I never felt like that before. I was going to swim, but the eel had gone about my legs, and as soon as I felt the line round them, and that horrid great thing twining it all over me, I tried hard to kick it off; but you haven’t got much strength in the water, and then, as I felt that I couldn’t get my legs clear, I came over all queer, and so horribly frightened that I couldn’t do anything. It was just like having a dream in the night, after eating too much cake.”“It was very horrible,” I said, with a shiver at the recollection, though I was beginning to feel warm.“Yes, wasn’t it? I say, don’t go and think me a coward, there’s a good chap.”“I was not going to think you a coward,” I said. “It isn’t likely.”“But I must have seemed like one, because I can swim ever so far, but when I found myself like that, all the strength went out of me.—I say!”“Yes?” I said, for he remained silent, and trudged on, looking hard at the ground.“I did like you for paying at Polly Hopley’s, and I said I’d do anything for you, but I can’t tell you what I feel now, for your helping me.”“Don’t wish you to tell me,” I replied. “Come along. I want to get on some dry things.”“But—”“Hold your tongue,” I said. “There’s some one coming.”He looked sharply in the indicated direction, and a shout saluted us.“It’s some of the boys,” he whispered. “Come on.” He led the way to a hedge, forced his way through, and I followed, and once more he led me along at a trot, with the great house right before us among the trees, and then, striking off to the right, he went through field after field, and then through a gate, and along by the side of a deep ditch, to stop short all at once, as a man started out of the hollow, and tried to hide a small gun.“Why, Magglin,” cried Mercer, “you’re after rabbits.”“Nay, nay; rats. They comes after the taters. Been fishing?”“Come on,” whispered Mercer, and he ran along by the hedge, turning once more to the left, and at last pulling up in a clump of fir-trees, on the north side of the big house.“Now then,” he said, “I daresay the Doctor hasn’t come back, and the ladies are sure to be with him. We’ll creep in by the front door and get up-stairs. Keep close to me.”He paused for a few minutes to get breath, and then started off, through the shrubbery, across the lawn, and in at the front door.The hall was empty, and he sprang up the well-carpeted staircase, reached the first floor, ran lightly along a passage, and through a baize door, which separated the Doctor’s part of the house from the boys’ dormitories.“All right!” he whispered, as he held the baize door for me to pass through; “nobody saw us, and the boys will not be up here.”He led the way down a long passage to another staircase, ran up, and I recognised the floor where our bed room was, when, just as we were making a rush for it, a door opened, and the big fat boy Dicksee came out, stared, and then burst into a roar of laughter.“Oh, here’s a game!” he shouted. “Old Senna’s been diving after podnoddles, and giving the new chap lessons.”Mercer rushed at him so savagely that Dicksee stepped back, and the next minute we had reached our room, rushed in, and banged the door.“Oh, isn’t he a beast?” cried my companion, panting, and looking all aglow now. “He’ll go and tell the boys, but we mustn’t say where we’ve been.”Half an hour after, we went down, dressed in our other suits, feeling very little the worse for our adventure, and just as we reached the big schoolroom, the big clock up in the turret chimed.“Why, we’re in good time for tea after all,” said Mercer. “They always have it late on holidays. Quarter of an hour to wait. Let’s go and walk down to the boys’ gardens.”He led the way out and across the playground to a gate in the hedge, through which we passed, to come plump on the Doctor, three ladies, and Mr Rebble, who carried a creel by the strap, and had a rod over his shoulder.“So you’ve had no sport, Mr Rebble?” the Doctor was saying.“No, sir, none. The wind was in the wrong quarter again.”“Aha!” said the Doctor, as he caught sight of us; “our new young friend, Burr junior. My dears, this is our new student. Burr junior, my wife and daughters.”We both took off our caps.“Friends already, eh?” said the Doctor. “History repeats itself, the modern based upon the classic. Quite a young Pylades and Orestes. Well, Burr, have you made acquaintance with all your schoolfellows?”I turned scarlet, and was at a loss as to what to say. But there was no occasion for me to feel troubled—the Doctor did not want an answer. He nodded pleasantly, the ladies bowed and passed on with him, while Mercer hurried me away.“What a game!” he said; “and you’ve only made friends with one. I say, poor old Reb’s been fishing all day again for roach, and never caught one. He never does. I wish he’d had the ducking instead of me.”“Nonsense!” I said. “You don’t.”“Oh, but I just do,” he said. “I say, let’s go round and see cook.”“What for?”“To ask her to dry our clothes for us. This way.” He ran off, and I followed him, to pass through a gate into a paved yard, across which was a sloping-roofed building, at the side of the long schoolroom.Mercer tapped at a door, and a sharp voice shouted,—“Come in!”“Mustn’t. Forbidden,” said Mercer to me, and he knocked again.“Don’t want any!” shouted the same voice, and a big, sour-looking, dark-faced woman came to the door.“Oh, it’s you, is it, Master Mercer? What do you want?”“I say, Cookie, this is the new boy.”“Nice pair of you, I’ll be bound,” she said roughly.“We’ve been out, and had an accident, and tumbled into a pond.”“Serve you both right. Wonder you weren’t both drowned,” she said sharply.“Don’t tell anybody,” continued Mercer, in no wise alarmed. “We nearly were, only Jem Roff at Dawson’s farm came and pulled us out.”“Oh, my dear bairns,” cried the woman, with her face and voice changing, “what would your poor mammas have said?”“It’s all right, though,” said Mercer, “only our things are soaked. Do have ’em down and dried for us by the morning.”“Why, of course I will, my dears.”“And, Cookie, we haven’t had any dinner, and it’s only bread and butter and milk and water.”“Yes; coming,” cried the woman, as a door was heard to open, and a voice to call.“Go along,” she said. “They’re calling for the bread and butter. You look under your pillows when you go to bed.”“It’s all right,” said Mercer. “Come along. She came from our town, and knows our people. My father set her brother-in-law’s leg once, after he’d tumbled off a hay stack. Isn’t she a gruff one when she likes! This way. Let’s get in our places now.”We went in to tea, which was only tea for Mr Rebble, who had a small black pot to himself, and a tiny jug of cream; but the bread and butter and milk and water were delicious, and I had made so good a meal that I had forgotten all about our visit to the cook till we had been in bed some time. I was just dozing off to sleep, when I was roused up by Mercer’s hand laid across my mouth.“Don’t speak,” he whispered; “the others are asleep. Boiled beef sandwiches in a paper bag, and two jam puffs.”“What?” I whispered. “Where?”“Here—in my fist. They were tucked under my pillow. Now, then, pitch in.”I sat up in bed, and Mercer sat up in his. It was so dark that we could hardly see each other, but the darkness was no hindrance to our eating, and the next minute there was a sound which may be best expressed as ruminating, varied by the faint rustle made by a hand gliding into a paper bag, followed after a long interval by a faint sigh, and—“Good-night.”“Good-night.”“Think we shall catch cold?”“I hope not.”“If we do, I’ve got some capital stuff in a bottle to cure colds, and I’ll give you some.”“Thank you,” I said, and there was a pause.“Are you asleep?” I said after a time, during which I had lain thinking about our experience of the day.“No.”“What are you thinking about?”“I was wondering whether Mr and Mrs Jem Roff ate all that eel.”Mercer did not say any more just then, and I seemed to glide back into the cottage, where Mrs Roff was frying eel in a pan over the fire, and just as they had asked me to supper, and I was taking my place, a big bell began to ring, and Mercer shouted,—“Now, Burr junior, time to get up.”I started and looked round, to see that the sunshine was flooding the room, and that the occupants of the other beds were sitting up grinding their knuckles into their eyes, and yawning as if in chorus.
“He’s a two and a half pounder, he is,” said Jem Roff as, after a bit of a struggle, he got tight hold of the writhing monster. “My word,” he continued, holding it down, “he’s a strong un! Here, you just slip your hand into my jacket pocket and get out my knife. Open it, will you?”
I followed out his instructions, and handed him the opened knife, when with one clever cut he divided the eel’s backbone, and its writhings almost ceased.
“There,” continued Jem, taking hold of the line, “let’s get you off. What a tangle! why, it’s reg’lar twissen all about your ankles. I must break it. Why, it’s tough as—look ye here,” he continued, tugging at the plaited silk, “it’s strong enough to hold a whale. I shall have to cut it. Bob Hopley won’t mind.”
Snick, and the line was divided, the eel thrown down, and Jem began to untwine the line from about Mercer’s legs, as the poor fellow, looking terribly white and scared, now sat up on the grass, looking dolefully from one to the other.
“My heye! you do look like a drownded rat, master,” said Jem, chuckling. “Lucky I come, warn’t it?”
I looked angrily at the man, for he seemed horribly unfeeling, and then, turning to Mercer,—
“How are you now?” I said.
“Very wet,” he replied feebly.
“Raw, haw!” laughed Jem. “There, get up, you’re clear now. Couldn’t swim a bit like that.”
“No,” said Mercer, getting up shivering, and shaking the water from his hair.
“Worse disasters at sea, lads. Here, come on along o’ me. Let’s put the rods back again;” and, taking the one he had dragged ashore with Mercer, he whipped the line round the other and pulled it ashore, swung the lines round both, and trotted with them to the boat-house, where he laid them on the pegs, and then came back to where we stood, so utterly upset that neither of us had spoken a word.
“Now then,” cried Jem, taking hold of the scrap of line to which the eel was attached and twisting it round his finger. “This all you caught?”
“No,” I said helplessly; “there’s an eel in that handkerchief hanging on the tree.”
Jem dropped the big eel again and trotted to the tree.
“Big as t’other?” he said. “Raw, haw! Here’s the hankerchy, but there’s no eel. Look ye here, he’s worked a hole through and gone. You didn’t kill him first?”
“It must be down there,” I said.
“Down here!” said Jem contemptuously; “he’s found his way back to the water again. Eels goos through the grass like snakes. Ketch anything else?”
“Two carp,” I said. “Here they are.”
“Ah, that’s better, and all alive, oh! I’ll carry ’em. Come along.”
He thrust a twig of willow through the gills of the fish, and led the way through the woods, and across some fields to a cottage, where a woman came to the door.
“Here, missus,” he said, “pitch some more wood on the fire. Young squire here stepped into the pond.”
“Oh, a mercy me!” cried the woman. “Pore dear, he do look bad.”
“Not he. All right again direckly. You let him warm himself, and I’ll run up to the schoolhouse and fetch him some dry clothes.”
“No,” cried Mercer, rousing himself now. “We’ll both run up, and get in without any one seeing us, and go and change our things.”
“Ay, that’ll be best,” said Jem; “and, if I was you, I’d start at once. Run all the way, and it’ll warm you up.”
“Yes. Thank you for coming and helping us,” said Mercer, who had now quite found his tongue.
“Oh, that’s all right,” said the man jocularly. “That’s a fine eel, but don’t fish for ’em that way again. Going in after ’em ain’t the best way; you see they’re quicker, and more used to the water than you are.”
Mercer shuddered.
“Come along, Burr,” he said feebly.
“Wait a minute. Here’s your eel and the carp. Where’s that there rush basket, missus?”
“Oh, we don’t want the fish,” said Mercer, with a shiver. “Come along, Burr.”
He hurried out of the cottage, and into a lane. “Keep listening,” he said. “If you hear any one, we’ll go across the fields.”
“There’s some one coming now,” I said.
“Oh dear! it’s old Rebble. He hasn’t seen us. This way.”
He stooped down, and ran to a gate, crept through, and then, leading the way, he walked fast along by the side of a hedge till we had crossed one field, and then began to trot, seeming to get stronger every minute, while I followed, with my wet trousers clinging to my legs, and the water going “suck suck” in my boots.
We crossed two or three fields, and then Mercer drew up, panting, and with the natural colour coming back into his face.
“We’ll walk now,” he said, “and go right round, and slip in through the garden. Perhaps we can get in and up to our room without being seen.”
“Yes, do,” I said, looking dolefully at my wet legs, and my jacket all covered with green from the penstock. “Feel better now?”
“Yes, I’m getting all right. I say, didn’t I seem like a horrid coward?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “It was enough to frighten anybody.”
Mercer was silent for a few minutes. Then he began again.
“I never felt like that before. I was going to swim, but the eel had gone about my legs, and as soon as I felt the line round them, and that horrid great thing twining it all over me, I tried hard to kick it off; but you haven’t got much strength in the water, and then, as I felt that I couldn’t get my legs clear, I came over all queer, and so horribly frightened that I couldn’t do anything. It was just like having a dream in the night, after eating too much cake.”
“It was very horrible,” I said, with a shiver at the recollection, though I was beginning to feel warm.
“Yes, wasn’t it? I say, don’t go and think me a coward, there’s a good chap.”
“I was not going to think you a coward,” I said. “It isn’t likely.”
“But I must have seemed like one, because I can swim ever so far, but when I found myself like that, all the strength went out of me.—I say!”
“Yes?” I said, for he remained silent, and trudged on, looking hard at the ground.
“I did like you for paying at Polly Hopley’s, and I said I’d do anything for you, but I can’t tell you what I feel now, for your helping me.”
“Don’t wish you to tell me,” I replied. “Come along. I want to get on some dry things.”
“But—”
“Hold your tongue,” I said. “There’s some one coming.”
He looked sharply in the indicated direction, and a shout saluted us.
“It’s some of the boys,” he whispered. “Come on.” He led the way to a hedge, forced his way through, and I followed, and once more he led me along at a trot, with the great house right before us among the trees, and then, striking off to the right, he went through field after field, and then through a gate, and along by the side of a deep ditch, to stop short all at once, as a man started out of the hollow, and tried to hide a small gun.
“Why, Magglin,” cried Mercer, “you’re after rabbits.”
“Nay, nay; rats. They comes after the taters. Been fishing?”
“Come on,” whispered Mercer, and he ran along by the hedge, turning once more to the left, and at last pulling up in a clump of fir-trees, on the north side of the big house.
“Now then,” he said, “I daresay the Doctor hasn’t come back, and the ladies are sure to be with him. We’ll creep in by the front door and get up-stairs. Keep close to me.”
He paused for a few minutes to get breath, and then started off, through the shrubbery, across the lawn, and in at the front door.
The hall was empty, and he sprang up the well-carpeted staircase, reached the first floor, ran lightly along a passage, and through a baize door, which separated the Doctor’s part of the house from the boys’ dormitories.
“All right!” he whispered, as he held the baize door for me to pass through; “nobody saw us, and the boys will not be up here.”
He led the way down a long passage to another staircase, ran up, and I recognised the floor where our bed room was, when, just as we were making a rush for it, a door opened, and the big fat boy Dicksee came out, stared, and then burst into a roar of laughter.
“Oh, here’s a game!” he shouted. “Old Senna’s been diving after podnoddles, and giving the new chap lessons.”
Mercer rushed at him so savagely that Dicksee stepped back, and the next minute we had reached our room, rushed in, and banged the door.
“Oh, isn’t he a beast?” cried my companion, panting, and looking all aglow now. “He’ll go and tell the boys, but we mustn’t say where we’ve been.”
Half an hour after, we went down, dressed in our other suits, feeling very little the worse for our adventure, and just as we reached the big schoolroom, the big clock up in the turret chimed.
“Why, we’re in good time for tea after all,” said Mercer. “They always have it late on holidays. Quarter of an hour to wait. Let’s go and walk down to the boys’ gardens.”
He led the way out and across the playground to a gate in the hedge, through which we passed, to come plump on the Doctor, three ladies, and Mr Rebble, who carried a creel by the strap, and had a rod over his shoulder.
“So you’ve had no sport, Mr Rebble?” the Doctor was saying.
“No, sir, none. The wind was in the wrong quarter again.”
“Aha!” said the Doctor, as he caught sight of us; “our new young friend, Burr junior. My dears, this is our new student. Burr junior, my wife and daughters.”
We both took off our caps.
“Friends already, eh?” said the Doctor. “History repeats itself, the modern based upon the classic. Quite a young Pylades and Orestes. Well, Burr, have you made acquaintance with all your schoolfellows?”
I turned scarlet, and was at a loss as to what to say. But there was no occasion for me to feel troubled—the Doctor did not want an answer. He nodded pleasantly, the ladies bowed and passed on with him, while Mercer hurried me away.
“What a game!” he said; “and you’ve only made friends with one. I say, poor old Reb’s been fishing all day again for roach, and never caught one. He never does. I wish he’d had the ducking instead of me.”
“Nonsense!” I said. “You don’t.”
“Oh, but I just do,” he said. “I say, let’s go round and see cook.”
“What for?”
“To ask her to dry our clothes for us. This way.” He ran off, and I followed him, to pass through a gate into a paved yard, across which was a sloping-roofed building, at the side of the long schoolroom.
Mercer tapped at a door, and a sharp voice shouted,—
“Come in!”
“Mustn’t. Forbidden,” said Mercer to me, and he knocked again.
“Don’t want any!” shouted the same voice, and a big, sour-looking, dark-faced woman came to the door.
“Oh, it’s you, is it, Master Mercer? What do you want?”
“I say, Cookie, this is the new boy.”
“Nice pair of you, I’ll be bound,” she said roughly.
“We’ve been out, and had an accident, and tumbled into a pond.”
“Serve you both right. Wonder you weren’t both drowned,” she said sharply.
“Don’t tell anybody,” continued Mercer, in no wise alarmed. “We nearly were, only Jem Roff at Dawson’s farm came and pulled us out.”
“Oh, my dear bairns,” cried the woman, with her face and voice changing, “what would your poor mammas have said?”
“It’s all right, though,” said Mercer, “only our things are soaked. Do have ’em down and dried for us by the morning.”
“Why, of course I will, my dears.”
“And, Cookie, we haven’t had any dinner, and it’s only bread and butter and milk and water.”
“Yes; coming,” cried the woman, as a door was heard to open, and a voice to call.
“Go along,” she said. “They’re calling for the bread and butter. You look under your pillows when you go to bed.”
“It’s all right,” said Mercer. “Come along. She came from our town, and knows our people. My father set her brother-in-law’s leg once, after he’d tumbled off a hay stack. Isn’t she a gruff one when she likes! This way. Let’s get in our places now.”
We went in to tea, which was only tea for Mr Rebble, who had a small black pot to himself, and a tiny jug of cream; but the bread and butter and milk and water were delicious, and I had made so good a meal that I had forgotten all about our visit to the cook till we had been in bed some time. I was just dozing off to sleep, when I was roused up by Mercer’s hand laid across my mouth.
“Don’t speak,” he whispered; “the others are asleep. Boiled beef sandwiches in a paper bag, and two jam puffs.”
“What?” I whispered. “Where?”
“Here—in my fist. They were tucked under my pillow. Now, then, pitch in.”
I sat up in bed, and Mercer sat up in his. It was so dark that we could hardly see each other, but the darkness was no hindrance to our eating, and the next minute there was a sound which may be best expressed as ruminating, varied by the faint rustle made by a hand gliding into a paper bag, followed after a long interval by a faint sigh, and—
“Good-night.”
“Good-night.”
“Think we shall catch cold?”
“I hope not.”
“If we do, I’ve got some capital stuff in a bottle to cure colds, and I’ll give you some.”
“Thank you,” I said, and there was a pause.
“Are you asleep?” I said after a time, during which I had lain thinking about our experience of the day.
“No.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“I was wondering whether Mr and Mrs Jem Roff ate all that eel.”
Mercer did not say any more just then, and I seemed to glide back into the cottage, where Mrs Roff was frying eel in a pan over the fire, and just as they had asked me to supper, and I was taking my place, a big bell began to ring, and Mercer shouted,—
“Now, Burr junior, time to get up.”
I started and looked round, to see that the sunshine was flooding the room, and that the occupants of the other beds were sitting up grinding their knuckles into their eyes, and yawning as if in chorus.
Chapter Six.We were none the worse for our adventure at the pond, and I very soon settled down to my school life, finding it, as life is, a mixture of pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow, all just as intense to the boy fifty or sixty years ago as it is now that schools are conducted upon very different principles, and a much higher grade of education is taught.Perhaps a great deal of the teaching at Meade Place would be looked upon now as lax; but in those days the Doctor’s school bore a very high character for the boys it had turned out, many of whom had gone into the East India Company’s Service, and the principal drawing-room was decorated with presents sent to him by old pupils, Indian jars and cabinets, brass lotahs and trays, specimens of weapons from Delhi, and ivory carvings; while from pupils who had gone to China and Japan, came bronzes, porcelain, screens, and lacquer of the most beautiful kind.Neither were the ladies forgotten, Mrs Browne and her daughters being well furnished with Indian scarves, muslin, and Canton crape shawls.It was, of course, on account of his connection with so many officers that my uncle had chosen this school as the one most likely to prepare me for my future career.When I first went down, Mr Rebble was the only assistant the doctor had; but I soon learned that the French master came twice a week from Rye, that the other usher had left to go into partnership with a friend in a school at Lewes, and that another was coming in a few days.The Doctor was one of my informants, for, after passing me through a general examination as to my capabilities, he told me that I was in a most hopeless state of ignorance, and that as soon as the assistant master, Mr Hasnip, arrived, I should have to go under his special charge.“For we can’t have boys like you, Burr junior,” he said smiling. “I don’t know what would become of my establishment if many were as backward as you.”“I’m very sorry, sir,” I said humbly.“I am glad you are,” he said; “for that means repentance for neglected opportunities, and, of course, a stern determination to make up for lost time.”“Yes, sir, I’ll try,” I said.“That’s right, and try hard. Your English is very weak; your Latin terribly deficient; your writing execrable; and your mathematics absolutely hopeless. There, go back to your place and work hard, my boy—work hard.”I descended from the daïs, with the eyes of the whole school upon me, and, as I walked between the two rows of forms, I could hear whispered remarks intended for me, and it was with a feeling of despair that I reseated myself, opened my desk and took out my Latin grammar, to begin turning over the leaves, looking hopelessly at the declensions and conjugations, with the exceptions and notes.“What’s the matter?” whispered Mercer, who just then returned from Mr Rebble’s end, where he had made one of a class in Euclid.“Doctor says I’m so terribly behindhand that he is ashamed of me.”“Gammon!”“What?”“I said, gammon. You’re right enough. Forwarder than I am, and I’ve been here two years.”“Oh no,” I said.“Yes, you are. Don’t contradict; ’tisn’t gentlemanly. He said your English was weak?”“How did you know?”“Your Latin terribly deficient?”“I say!” I cried, staring.“Your writing execrable?”“Mercer!”“And your mathematics absolutely hopeless?”“But you were at the other end of the room when he said that,” I cried aghast.“Of course; I was being wigged by old Rebble because I couldn’t go through the forty-seventh of Book One; and I can’t, and I feel as if I never shall.”“I think I could,” I said.“Of course you could; nearly every chap in the school can but me. I can learn some things easily enough; but I can’t remember all about those angles and squares, and all the rest of them.”“You soon will if you try,” I whispered. “But how did you know the doctor said all that to me?”“Because he says it to every new boy. He said it to me, and made me so miserable that I nearly ran away and if I hadn’t had a very big cake in my box, that I brought with me, I believe I should have broken my heart.”“But I am very ignorant,” I said, after a pause for thought, during which my companion’s words had rather a comforting effect.“So’s everybody. I’m awfully ignorant. What would be the good of coming here if we weren’t all behind? Oh, how I wish things could be turned round!”“Turned round?” I said wonderingly.“Yes, so that I could know all the books of Euclid by heart, and have old Rebble obliged to come and stand before me, and feel as if all he had learned had run out of his head like water out of a sponge.”“Never mind,” I said; “let’s work and learn.”“You’ll have to, my lad.”“Less talking there,” said Mr Rebble.“Oh, very well,” whispered Mercer, and then he went on half aloud, but indistinctly, repeating the problem in Euclid over which he had broken down.I glanced at Mr Rebble, and saw that he was watching us both intently, and I bent over my Latin grammar, and began learning the feminine nouns which ended in “us,” while Mercer half turned his head towards me.“A little less noise at your end of the school, Mr Rebble, if you please,” said the Doctor blandly.“Yes, sir,” said Mr Rebble, and then, in a low, severe voice, “Mercer, Burr junior, come up.”Mercer threw his leg over the form, and I followed his example, involuntarily glancing across at my namesake, who made a grimace, and gave himself a writhe, as if suggesting that I should have a cut from the cane after being reported to the Doctor, and I knew that he was watching us both as we went up to the usher’s desk.“Close up, both of you,” said Mr Rebble sternly, but in a low voice, so that his words should not reach the Doctor.We moved closer.“Now, sir,” he said sternly, “I called for silence twice, and you, Mercer, and you, Burr junior, both kept on speaking. I distinctly saw your lips moving—both of you. Now, sir, I insist upon your repeating the words you said as I caught your eye.”“Subtending the right angle, sir,” said Mercer promptly.“And you, sir?” continued Mr Rebble, turning to me.“Idus, quercus, ficus, manus, sir,” I replied innocently.“That will do. Go back to your places, and if I do catch you talking again in school hours—”“Please, sir, that wasn’t talking,” said Mercer in expostulation.“Silence, sir. I say, if I do catch you talking, I shall report you to the Doctor. That will do.”We went demurely enough back to our places, and this summons had the effect upon me of making me feel more ill-used than before. As I once more went on with my Latin, I was conscious that Mercer was writing something on his slate, and when it was done, he wetted his hand, and gave me a nudge, for me to read what he had written.“He don’t like you, because we’re friends. He don’t like me. Yah! Who don’t know how to fish?”I had barely read this, when Mercer’s hand rapidly obliterated the words, and only just in time, for Mr Rebble left his desk and came slowly by us, glancing over our shoulders as he passed, but Mercer was safe, for he had rapidly formed a right-angled triangle on his slate, and was carefully finishing a capital A, as the usher passed on up to the Doctor’s end.Those mornings glided away, and so slowly that it seemed as if the mid-day bell would never ring, but its sonorous tones rang through the place at last, and, hanging back, so as not to be called upon to form part of those who would have to go and field for Burr major and another of the bigger lads, Mercer and I waited our time, one day when I had been there about a fortnight, and then slipped off to the stable-yard, and then up into one of the lofts, which the boys were allowed to use as a kind of workshop.“What do you want to come here for?” I said, as we ascended the rough ladder, and stood in the dimly lighted place.“I’ll show you directly,” he said. “Don’t you know what I’ve got up here?”“No.”“My museum.”I looked around, but nothing was visible but some willow chips, and a half-formed cricket bat which Dicksee was making, by the help of a spokeshave he had borrowed at the wheelwright’s, and which promised to be as clumsy a stump defender as ever was held in two hands.“Well,” I said, “where is it?”“Here,” said Mercer triumphantly, as he led the way to where an old corn-bin stood beneath one of the windows, the lid securely held down by a padlock whose key my companion brought out of his pocket.“Never mind the old Latin and Euclid. I’ll let you come and help me here sometimes, and if old Burr major or Dicksee interferes, you’ll have to help me, for I wouldn’t have my things spoiled for ever so much.”“Oh, I’ll help you,” I said, and I waited with some curiosity while he opened the lock, and, after hanging it on a nail, slowly raised the lid, and I looked in to see a strange assortment of odds and ends. What seemed to be dead birds were mixed up with tow, feathers, wire, a file, a pair of cutting pincers, and a flat pomatum pot, on which was printed the word “poison.”“What’s that for?” I said wonderingly.“Oh, that’s soap,” he said.“No, no, that—the poison.”“Soap, I tell you. Take off the lid.”I hesitated for a moment, and then raised the lid, to see that the box was half full of a creamy-looking paste, which exhaled an aromatic odour.“Is that soap?” I said.“Yes, to brush over the skins of things I want to preserve. Don’t touch it. You have to wash your hands ever so many times when you’ve been using it. Look, that’s a starling I began to stuff, but it don’t look much like a bird, does it?”“Looks more like a pincushion,” I said. “What’s the cotton for?”“Oh, that’s to keep the wings in their places till they’re dry. You wind cotton over them, and that holds their feathers down, but I didn’t get this one right.”“He’s too big and fat,” I said.“Yes, I stuffed him too much; but I’m going to try and do another.”The starling was laid down, and a jay picked up.“That’s another one I tried,” he said sadly, “but it never would look like a bird. They’re ever so much handsomer than that out in the woods.”“I suppose,”—I said, and then quickly—“Are they?”“Yes, you know they are,” said Mercer dolefully. “These are horrid. I know exactly how I want them to look, but they will not come so.”“They will in time,” I said, to cheer him, for his failures seemed to make him despondent.“No,” he said, “I’m afraid not. Birds are beautiful things,—starlings are and jays,—and nobody can say that those are beautiful. Regular old Guy Fawkes’s of birds, aren’t they?”“You mustn’t ask me,” I replied evasively. “I’m no judge. But what’s this horrid thing?”“Frog. Better not touch it. I never could get on with that. It’s more like a toad than a frog. It’s too full of sand.”“Sand! Why, it’s quite light.”“I mean, was too full of sand; it’s emptied out now. I told you that’s how you stuff reptiles, skin ’em, and fill ’em full of sand till they’re dry, and then pour it out.”“Oh yes, I remember; but that one is too stout.”“Yes,” said Mercer, “that’s the worst of it; they will come so if you don’t mind. The skins stretch so, and then they come humpy.”“And what’s that?” I asked. “Looks like a fur sausage.”“You get out with your fur sausages. See if you could do it better. That’s a stoat.”I burst out laughing now, and he looked at me in a disconsolate way, and then smiled sadly.“Yes, it is a beast after all,” he said. “My father has got a book about anatomy, but I never thought anything about that sort of thing till I tried to stuff little animals. You see they haven’t got any feathers to hide their shape, and they’ve got so much shape. A bird’s only like an egg, with a head, and two wings on the side, so that if you make up a ball of tow like an egg, and pull the skin over it, you can’t be so very far wrong; but an animal wants curves here and hollows there, and nicely rounded hind legs, and his head lifted up gracefully, and that— Ugh! the wretch! I’ll burn it first chance. I won’t try any more animals.”“A squirrel looks nice stuffed,” I observed, as I recalled one I had seen in a glass case, having a nut in its fore paws, and with its tail curved up over its back.“Does it?” said Mercer dolefully; “mine don’t.”“You have stuffed squirrels?” I said.He nodded sadly.“Two,” he replied. “I didn’t skin the first properly, and it smelt so horrid that I buried it.”“And the second one?”“Oh, that didn’t look anything like a squirrel. It was more like a short, fat puppy when I had finished, only you knew it was a squirrel by its tail.—What say?”“I didn’t speak,” I said, as he looked up sharply from where he had been leaning down into the old corn-bin.“I thought you said something. There, that’s all I shall show you to-day,” he went on disconsolately. “I never knew they were so bad till I brought you up to see them.”“Oh, they’re not so very bad,” I said, trying to console him by my interest in his works.“Yes, they are. Horrible! I did mean to have a glass case for some of them, and ornament them with dried moss and grass, but I’m afraid that the more you tried to ornament these, the worse they’d look.”This sounded so perfectly true that I could not say a word in contradiction; and I stood staring at him, quite at a loss for words, and he was staring at me, when there was a shout and a rush along the loft floor, and I saw Burr major and Dicksee coming toward us fast, and half a dozen more boys crowding up through the trap-door into the place.“Caught you then!” cried Burr major. “Come along, boys, old Senna’s going to show us his museum and his doctor’s shop.”Mercer banged down the lid of the corn-bin, and was struggling hard to get the hasp over the staple and the padlock on, when Burr major seized him and dragged him away.“No, no,” roared Mercer. “Here, Burr junior, catch hold.” He threw the padlock to me, but the key dropped out, and one of the boys pounced upon it, while Dicksee threw his arms round me and held me tight.“No, you don’t,” he cried.“That’s right,” said Burr major. “Hold him, boys. The artful beggars had sneaked up here to have a tuck-in. We’ll eat it all for them.”“There’s nothing in the box—there’s nothing there!” cried Mercer, struggling vainly, but only to be dragged down on the floor.“Here, two of you, come and sit on him,” said Burr major. “Hold that other beggar tight, Dicksee. Keep quiet, will you, or I will chuck you down the stairs.”By that time, under our tyrant’s orders, two boys had come to Dicksee’s help, and had seized me by a wrist each, so that I was helpless.“Now then,” continued Burr major, “we’ll just see what my gentleman keeps locked up here. He’s always sneaking up after something.”“You let that box alone,” shouted Mercer, after an ineffective struggle to get free.“Shan’t. You’re not going to do just as you like, Physic,” said Burr major, and he threw up the lid, looked in, and then uttered a contemptuous “Pah!”“What a mess!” he cried. “Look here, Dicksee.”The latter crossed to him eagerly, and I stood there a prisoner, but burning with indignation and an intense desire to hit some one.“I’ll tell the Doctor,” cried Mercer. “It’s a shame!”“Oh, is it? You’d better tell tales—do. Oh, I say, boys, lookye here. This is a rumtummikos incomprehensibus. What a beast!”He had taken hold of the unfortunate stoat by the tail and held it out amidst roars of laughter. “We’ll have a fire and burn him. What’s next?”He dived down into the great chest, and brought out the starling.“Here you are, boys,” he cried again. “This is the speckled pecker, or measly short-tail.”Another roar of laughter.“And here’s the blue-winged cockatooral-looral-looral.”The boys shouted again, and I saw Mercer heave up in his rage, and nearly send the boys off who were sitting upon him, while I wished I had strength enough to send our tormentors flying.“Hallo! here we are then,” cried Burr major. “I knew it. They were going to have a tuck-out. Look, boys, they meant to have ‘toad in the hole’ for supper, and here’s the toad.”This was as he held out the bloated skin of the unfortunate frog.“Hooray!” shouted the boys, who were looking on with rapturous delight, and the more we struggled to get free, the greater their enjoyment seemed.“You coward!—you brute!” panted Mercer. “How would you like your box turned out?”“Ever so. Come and do it and you’ll see.—Oh!”This last was with quite a shout.“What is it?” cried the boys who held us. “Let’s look, Burr.”“You take it out if you dare,” cried Mercer, who, however, as he told me afterwards, had not the least idea what was coming next.“Oh yes, I’ll take it out,” said Burr major.“You coward! you miserable old Eely tailor!”“Hold your tongue, will you!” cried Burr major, turning sharply round and giving Mercer a savage kick as he lay on his back, with one boy sitting on his chest, another on his legs.“Brute!” cried Mercer, setting his teeth and trying hard not to let the tears come.“You great long coward!” I cried; “you wouldn’t dare to do that if he were not down.”“You hold your row,” he cried, and as I stood thus held, I received a sharp, back-handed blow on the mouth, which made my lip bleed.“Bring it out, Dicksee.”The latter wanted no second telling, but dived down into poor Mercer’s treasure-chest, and brought out the pot of preserving paste.“There!” cried Burr major, taking up the pot with a face wrinkled up with disgust; “now we’ve found him out. See this, boys. Poison!”“Oh!” chorused the little party of his parasites.“That’s the way he does it. He’s worse than a witch. This is what he keeps to give to the fellows, and pretends it’s physic, same as his nasty old father uses.”“I don’t, boys—it isn’t true; and my father’s a gentleman, not an old snip.”“Do you want me to kick you again?” said Burr major savagely.“Yes, if you dare,” cried Mercer defiantly.“Just you wait a bit, my lad, till I’m done. Yes, boys, that’s it Dicksee, he gave you some of that, and it made you so ill the other day.”“Then we’ll show it to the Doctor,” cried Dicksee.“I didn’t!” cried Mercer. “That’s to preserve with.”“Yes, that’s it,” cried Burr major—“to preserve with. Do you hear, boys? He keeps that to put in jam.”There was a shout at this, and I saw Mercer writhe in his impotence.“Tell you what, we’ll rout out the whole lot, and take them down in the stable-yard and burn them.”“You let them alone,” cried Mercer frantically, as Burr major scraped out a double handful of the hoarded treasures and threw them on the floor.“Hold him down tight, or I shall hurt him,” said Burr major contemptuously.But his words came too late, for Mercer made a sudden heave, which threw the boy on his chest off sidewise, sprang up into a sitting position, and hit out at the boy on his legs, who howled on receiving a crack on the ear; and this so roused me to action that I too wrested myself free and followed suit. I flew at Dicksee, and struck him full in the breast, sending him in his surprise down in a sitting position, just as Mercer struck our tyrant a sounding smack on the cheek.Burr major staggered back and held his hand to his face.“Oh, that’s it, is it?” he said with a snarl. “All right, boys, Senna Tea wants me to boil him up again.”“You stand by me, Burr junior, won’t you?” cried Mercer, who looked now as if he were a little startled at his daring.“Yes,” I said desperately, though I felt horribly afraid.“Oh no, you don’t,” said Burr major, taking off his jacket; “I don’t want to knock your silly head off. You wait till I’ve thrashed Master Physic, and then old Dicksee shall give you your dose.”I saw Dicksee look at him with rather a startled aspect, but Burr major took no notice beyond giving him a contemptuous glance, as he neatly folded up his jacket, and then removed his waistcoat.“Here, Bill Ducie, go down and shut the stable door, and lock it inside,” continued Burr major in a lofty tone; “we don’t want to be interrupted before we’ve polished off these two beggars.”The boy ran down, and it sounded very formidable to hear the door bang and the rusty lock turned.“Now then, off with that coat, sir,” said Burr major, as he began rolling up his shirt over his thin white arms. “I’m not going to wait all day. The bell will ring for dinner directly. Hold my clothes, one of you; I don’t want them dirty.”I saw Mercer set his teeth as he pulled off his jacket and vest, and he pitched them both into the big bin, looking very stubborn and determined the while.“Here, Dicksee, you come and second me, I’ll second you afterward. You new boy, you’d better second old Senna. Pah! how physicky he smells!”I had the vaguest notions of what I had to do, but I imitated Dicksee as well as I could, as the boys stood on one side breathless with excitement, and Burr major and Mercer faced each other with their fists clenched.Then there was a due amount of sparring, followed by a few blows given and taken, and Burr major drew back and sat down on Dicksee’s knee, Mercer taking his place on mine.“Did he hurt you much?” I whispered.“Horrid,” was whispered back, “and I can’t half get to hit at him.”Then some one shouted, and they fought again, with the result that my blood seemed to boil as poor Mercer came staggering back.“Had enough?” said Burr major in lofty tones.For answer Mercer flew at him, and there was another long, fierce round, which seemed to consist in Mercer’s adversary driving him about the place, knocking him about just as much as he liked, and ending by sending him staggering back, so that he would have fallen all in a heap had I not caught him in my arms.“Had enough, Doctor?” cried Burr major contemptuously, and as I supported Mercer he uttered a low sob of misery.“Yes, he’s done. Now, Dicksee, I’ll second you.—Off with your togs and polish him off till his face shines. Now then, look sharp, Senna, you’ve got to back your chap.”I heard Mercer grind his teeth, and I felt giddy with excitement as he whispered to me,—“Don’t be afraid of him, he’s a coward. Take off your things, and you try hard if you can’t lick him.”“Must I fight?” I said.“Now then, you sir, off with that jacket,” cried Burr major, “or he’ll give you the coward’s blow.”This roused me, and I stripped for the battle, feeling very nervous and uncomfortable, while Mercer drew a long breath, mastered the pain he was in, and, after throwing my jacket and waistcoat in the bin with his own, began to whisper his instructions to me.“Now then, off you go,” said Burr major. “Be smart, Dicksee, the bell will go directly.”Dicksee made a savage run at me as I put up my arms, there were a few blows, all of which came to my share, and there was a roar of laughter as the round ended in a struggle, and I went down, with Dicksee on me, and my head giving a stunning rap on the boards.“Don’t let him wrestle with you,” whispered Mercer excitedly, as he helped me up, and I sat upon his knee, feeling very dizzy and half blind with rage.“There,” shouted Burr major, “finish the beggar this time, Dicky!”I have some recollection of our encountering again, and feeling blow after blow on my face, on my ear, chest, and shoulders; and our going down once more in another wrestling match.“Never mind,” whispered Mercer; “you’re doing splendidly.”“Am I?” I gasped.“Yes; only keep him off more, and hit straight out like he does.”“Now then,” cried Burr major again, “I want to go and wash my hands. Come along, new boy, and lay your nose against old Dicksy’s left, and your left eye against his right, and then he’ll smooth your cheeks over and lay you on the boards, and by that time I think you’ll be about cooked.”“Don’t let him lick you,” whispered Mercer imploringly. “Do give it him this time. Hit him on the nose always, he don’t like that.”“There!” roared Burr major, as, giddy and confused, I was swinging my arms about, hitting nothing half the time, and never getting one blow home with any force to signify, and at last, after a few minutes of burning rage and confusion, during which I had received quite a shower of blows, I found myself, giddy and panting, seated upon the floor, listening to Burr major’s voice.“That’s enough, Dicky; that’ll do the beggars no end of good, and make ’em behave themselves when they meet gentlemen. Come on, boys. Here, you two, go and wash yourselves, and make yourselves right. The bell will ring directly, and if old Reb sees you’ve been fighting, he’ll report you both to the Doctor, and you’ll get no end of punishment.”This seemed the unkindest cut of all, and as soon as the boys had gone racing down into the yard, where Dicksee gave vent to a loud “Cock-a-doodle-doo,” I slowly rose to my feet and faced Mercer, who was gazing straight before him.“I say,” I panted, for I was breathless still, “did I win?”“You? No,” he cried savagely. “You can’t fight any more than I can, and the brutes have beaten us both. Here, let’s look at you. Oh, you ain’t much marked, only your nose bleeds a bit. That’s where you ought to have hit him.”“I did try to,” I said despondently; “but he wouldn’t let me.”“Never mind, put on your things. I say, are my eyes swollen?”“One of them’s puffed up a bit, and your lip’s cut like mine is.”“Never mind. Come and have a wash.”“Shan’t you lock up your museum?”“Not now. I don’t care for it after what they’ve done. Yes, I do; I’ll come up afterwards,” he continued, rapidly replacing the pot of preserving paste. “Come along, and try and look as if nothing was the matter.”I followed him as soon as we had put on our clothes, and then we hurried to the row of basins and towels, barely completing our ablutions when the bell rang, and not looking so very much the worse.“Never mind, old chap,” whispered Mercer, as we went into the schoolroom to dinner, with the boys all watching us and making remarks; “wait a bit, and we’ll have revenge.”“How?” I said, as with a horrifying rapidity the pot of poison came into my mind.“Never you mind;” he whispered tragically. “Bitter revenge! Only you wait.”There was a tapping on the end table just then, and all the boys rose. Then the Doctor’s deep, bland voice uttered the word,—“Grace!”
We were none the worse for our adventure at the pond, and I very soon settled down to my school life, finding it, as life is, a mixture of pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow, all just as intense to the boy fifty or sixty years ago as it is now that schools are conducted upon very different principles, and a much higher grade of education is taught.
Perhaps a great deal of the teaching at Meade Place would be looked upon now as lax; but in those days the Doctor’s school bore a very high character for the boys it had turned out, many of whom had gone into the East India Company’s Service, and the principal drawing-room was decorated with presents sent to him by old pupils, Indian jars and cabinets, brass lotahs and trays, specimens of weapons from Delhi, and ivory carvings; while from pupils who had gone to China and Japan, came bronzes, porcelain, screens, and lacquer of the most beautiful kind.
Neither were the ladies forgotten, Mrs Browne and her daughters being well furnished with Indian scarves, muslin, and Canton crape shawls.
It was, of course, on account of his connection with so many officers that my uncle had chosen this school as the one most likely to prepare me for my future career.
When I first went down, Mr Rebble was the only assistant the doctor had; but I soon learned that the French master came twice a week from Rye, that the other usher had left to go into partnership with a friend in a school at Lewes, and that another was coming in a few days.
The Doctor was one of my informants, for, after passing me through a general examination as to my capabilities, he told me that I was in a most hopeless state of ignorance, and that as soon as the assistant master, Mr Hasnip, arrived, I should have to go under his special charge.
“For we can’t have boys like you, Burr junior,” he said smiling. “I don’t know what would become of my establishment if many were as backward as you.”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” I said humbly.
“I am glad you are,” he said; “for that means repentance for neglected opportunities, and, of course, a stern determination to make up for lost time.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll try,” I said.
“That’s right, and try hard. Your English is very weak; your Latin terribly deficient; your writing execrable; and your mathematics absolutely hopeless. There, go back to your place and work hard, my boy—work hard.”
I descended from the daïs, with the eyes of the whole school upon me, and, as I walked between the two rows of forms, I could hear whispered remarks intended for me, and it was with a feeling of despair that I reseated myself, opened my desk and took out my Latin grammar, to begin turning over the leaves, looking hopelessly at the declensions and conjugations, with the exceptions and notes.
“What’s the matter?” whispered Mercer, who just then returned from Mr Rebble’s end, where he had made one of a class in Euclid.
“Doctor says I’m so terribly behindhand that he is ashamed of me.”
“Gammon!”
“What?”
“I said, gammon. You’re right enough. Forwarder than I am, and I’ve been here two years.”
“Oh no,” I said.
“Yes, you are. Don’t contradict; ’tisn’t gentlemanly. He said your English was weak?”
“How did you know?”
“Your Latin terribly deficient?”
“I say!” I cried, staring.
“Your writing execrable?”
“Mercer!”
“And your mathematics absolutely hopeless?”
“But you were at the other end of the room when he said that,” I cried aghast.
“Of course; I was being wigged by old Rebble because I couldn’t go through the forty-seventh of Book One; and I can’t, and I feel as if I never shall.”
“I think I could,” I said.
“Of course you could; nearly every chap in the school can but me. I can learn some things easily enough; but I can’t remember all about those angles and squares, and all the rest of them.”
“You soon will if you try,” I whispered. “But how did you know the doctor said all that to me?”
“Because he says it to every new boy. He said it to me, and made me so miserable that I nearly ran away and if I hadn’t had a very big cake in my box, that I brought with me, I believe I should have broken my heart.”
“But I am very ignorant,” I said, after a pause for thought, during which my companion’s words had rather a comforting effect.
“So’s everybody. I’m awfully ignorant. What would be the good of coming here if we weren’t all behind? Oh, how I wish things could be turned round!”
“Turned round?” I said wonderingly.
“Yes, so that I could know all the books of Euclid by heart, and have old Rebble obliged to come and stand before me, and feel as if all he had learned had run out of his head like water out of a sponge.”
“Never mind,” I said; “let’s work and learn.”
“You’ll have to, my lad.”
“Less talking there,” said Mr Rebble.
“Oh, very well,” whispered Mercer, and then he went on half aloud, but indistinctly, repeating the problem in Euclid over which he had broken down.
I glanced at Mr Rebble, and saw that he was watching us both intently, and I bent over my Latin grammar, and began learning the feminine nouns which ended in “us,” while Mercer half turned his head towards me.
“A little less noise at your end of the school, Mr Rebble, if you please,” said the Doctor blandly.
“Yes, sir,” said Mr Rebble, and then, in a low, severe voice, “Mercer, Burr junior, come up.”
Mercer threw his leg over the form, and I followed his example, involuntarily glancing across at my namesake, who made a grimace, and gave himself a writhe, as if suggesting that I should have a cut from the cane after being reported to the Doctor, and I knew that he was watching us both as we went up to the usher’s desk.
“Close up, both of you,” said Mr Rebble sternly, but in a low voice, so that his words should not reach the Doctor.
We moved closer.
“Now, sir,” he said sternly, “I called for silence twice, and you, Mercer, and you, Burr junior, both kept on speaking. I distinctly saw your lips moving—both of you. Now, sir, I insist upon your repeating the words you said as I caught your eye.”
“Subtending the right angle, sir,” said Mercer promptly.
“And you, sir?” continued Mr Rebble, turning to me.
“Idus, quercus, ficus, manus, sir,” I replied innocently.
“That will do. Go back to your places, and if I do catch you talking again in school hours—”
“Please, sir, that wasn’t talking,” said Mercer in expostulation.
“Silence, sir. I say, if I do catch you talking, I shall report you to the Doctor. That will do.”
We went demurely enough back to our places, and this summons had the effect upon me of making me feel more ill-used than before. As I once more went on with my Latin, I was conscious that Mercer was writing something on his slate, and when it was done, he wetted his hand, and gave me a nudge, for me to read what he had written.
“He don’t like you, because we’re friends. He don’t like me. Yah! Who don’t know how to fish?”
I had barely read this, when Mercer’s hand rapidly obliterated the words, and only just in time, for Mr Rebble left his desk and came slowly by us, glancing over our shoulders as he passed, but Mercer was safe, for he had rapidly formed a right-angled triangle on his slate, and was carefully finishing a capital A, as the usher passed on up to the Doctor’s end.
Those mornings glided away, and so slowly that it seemed as if the mid-day bell would never ring, but its sonorous tones rang through the place at last, and, hanging back, so as not to be called upon to form part of those who would have to go and field for Burr major and another of the bigger lads, Mercer and I waited our time, one day when I had been there about a fortnight, and then slipped off to the stable-yard, and then up into one of the lofts, which the boys were allowed to use as a kind of workshop.
“What do you want to come here for?” I said, as we ascended the rough ladder, and stood in the dimly lighted place.
“I’ll show you directly,” he said. “Don’t you know what I’ve got up here?”
“No.”
“My museum.”
I looked around, but nothing was visible but some willow chips, and a half-formed cricket bat which Dicksee was making, by the help of a spokeshave he had borrowed at the wheelwright’s, and which promised to be as clumsy a stump defender as ever was held in two hands.
“Well,” I said, “where is it?”
“Here,” said Mercer triumphantly, as he led the way to where an old corn-bin stood beneath one of the windows, the lid securely held down by a padlock whose key my companion brought out of his pocket.
“Never mind the old Latin and Euclid. I’ll let you come and help me here sometimes, and if old Burr major or Dicksee interferes, you’ll have to help me, for I wouldn’t have my things spoiled for ever so much.”
“Oh, I’ll help you,” I said, and I waited with some curiosity while he opened the lock, and, after hanging it on a nail, slowly raised the lid, and I looked in to see a strange assortment of odds and ends. What seemed to be dead birds were mixed up with tow, feathers, wire, a file, a pair of cutting pincers, and a flat pomatum pot, on which was printed the word “poison.”
“What’s that for?” I said wonderingly.
“Oh, that’s soap,” he said.
“No, no, that—the poison.”
“Soap, I tell you. Take off the lid.”
I hesitated for a moment, and then raised the lid, to see that the box was half full of a creamy-looking paste, which exhaled an aromatic odour.
“Is that soap?” I said.
“Yes, to brush over the skins of things I want to preserve. Don’t touch it. You have to wash your hands ever so many times when you’ve been using it. Look, that’s a starling I began to stuff, but it don’t look much like a bird, does it?”
“Looks more like a pincushion,” I said. “What’s the cotton for?”
“Oh, that’s to keep the wings in their places till they’re dry. You wind cotton over them, and that holds their feathers down, but I didn’t get this one right.”
“He’s too big and fat,” I said.
“Yes, I stuffed him too much; but I’m going to try and do another.”
The starling was laid down, and a jay picked up.
“That’s another one I tried,” he said sadly, “but it never would look like a bird. They’re ever so much handsomer than that out in the woods.”
“I suppose,”—I said, and then quickly—“Are they?”
“Yes, you know they are,” said Mercer dolefully. “These are horrid. I know exactly how I want them to look, but they will not come so.”
“They will in time,” I said, to cheer him, for his failures seemed to make him despondent.
“No,” he said, “I’m afraid not. Birds are beautiful things,—starlings are and jays,—and nobody can say that those are beautiful. Regular old Guy Fawkes’s of birds, aren’t they?”
“You mustn’t ask me,” I replied evasively. “I’m no judge. But what’s this horrid thing?”
“Frog. Better not touch it. I never could get on with that. It’s more like a toad than a frog. It’s too full of sand.”
“Sand! Why, it’s quite light.”
“I mean, was too full of sand; it’s emptied out now. I told you that’s how you stuff reptiles, skin ’em, and fill ’em full of sand till they’re dry, and then pour it out.”
“Oh yes, I remember; but that one is too stout.”
“Yes,” said Mercer, “that’s the worst of it; they will come so if you don’t mind. The skins stretch so, and then they come humpy.”
“And what’s that?” I asked. “Looks like a fur sausage.”
“You get out with your fur sausages. See if you could do it better. That’s a stoat.”
I burst out laughing now, and he looked at me in a disconsolate way, and then smiled sadly.
“Yes, it is a beast after all,” he said. “My father has got a book about anatomy, but I never thought anything about that sort of thing till I tried to stuff little animals. You see they haven’t got any feathers to hide their shape, and they’ve got so much shape. A bird’s only like an egg, with a head, and two wings on the side, so that if you make up a ball of tow like an egg, and pull the skin over it, you can’t be so very far wrong; but an animal wants curves here and hollows there, and nicely rounded hind legs, and his head lifted up gracefully, and that— Ugh! the wretch! I’ll burn it first chance. I won’t try any more animals.”
“A squirrel looks nice stuffed,” I observed, as I recalled one I had seen in a glass case, having a nut in its fore paws, and with its tail curved up over its back.
“Does it?” said Mercer dolefully; “mine don’t.”
“You have stuffed squirrels?” I said.
He nodded sadly.
“Two,” he replied. “I didn’t skin the first properly, and it smelt so horrid that I buried it.”
“And the second one?”
“Oh, that didn’t look anything like a squirrel. It was more like a short, fat puppy when I had finished, only you knew it was a squirrel by its tail.—What say?”
“I didn’t speak,” I said, as he looked up sharply from where he had been leaning down into the old corn-bin.
“I thought you said something. There, that’s all I shall show you to-day,” he went on disconsolately. “I never knew they were so bad till I brought you up to see them.”
“Oh, they’re not so very bad,” I said, trying to console him by my interest in his works.
“Yes, they are. Horrible! I did mean to have a glass case for some of them, and ornament them with dried moss and grass, but I’m afraid that the more you tried to ornament these, the worse they’d look.”
This sounded so perfectly true that I could not say a word in contradiction; and I stood staring at him, quite at a loss for words, and he was staring at me, when there was a shout and a rush along the loft floor, and I saw Burr major and Dicksee coming toward us fast, and half a dozen more boys crowding up through the trap-door into the place.
“Caught you then!” cried Burr major. “Come along, boys, old Senna’s going to show us his museum and his doctor’s shop.”
Mercer banged down the lid of the corn-bin, and was struggling hard to get the hasp over the staple and the padlock on, when Burr major seized him and dragged him away.
“No, no,” roared Mercer. “Here, Burr junior, catch hold.” He threw the padlock to me, but the key dropped out, and one of the boys pounced upon it, while Dicksee threw his arms round me and held me tight.
“No, you don’t,” he cried.
“That’s right,” said Burr major. “Hold him, boys. The artful beggars had sneaked up here to have a tuck-in. We’ll eat it all for them.”
“There’s nothing in the box—there’s nothing there!” cried Mercer, struggling vainly, but only to be dragged down on the floor.
“Here, two of you, come and sit on him,” said Burr major. “Hold that other beggar tight, Dicksee. Keep quiet, will you, or I will chuck you down the stairs.”
By that time, under our tyrant’s orders, two boys had come to Dicksee’s help, and had seized me by a wrist each, so that I was helpless.
“Now then,” continued Burr major, “we’ll just see what my gentleman keeps locked up here. He’s always sneaking up after something.”
“You let that box alone,” shouted Mercer, after an ineffective struggle to get free.
“Shan’t. You’re not going to do just as you like, Physic,” said Burr major, and he threw up the lid, looked in, and then uttered a contemptuous “Pah!”
“What a mess!” he cried. “Look here, Dicksee.”
The latter crossed to him eagerly, and I stood there a prisoner, but burning with indignation and an intense desire to hit some one.
“I’ll tell the Doctor,” cried Mercer. “It’s a shame!”
“Oh, is it? You’d better tell tales—do. Oh, I say, boys, lookye here. This is a rumtummikos incomprehensibus. What a beast!”
He had taken hold of the unfortunate stoat by the tail and held it out amidst roars of laughter. “We’ll have a fire and burn him. What’s next?”
He dived down into the great chest, and brought out the starling.
“Here you are, boys,” he cried again. “This is the speckled pecker, or measly short-tail.”
Another roar of laughter.
“And here’s the blue-winged cockatooral-looral-looral.”
The boys shouted again, and I saw Mercer heave up in his rage, and nearly send the boys off who were sitting upon him, while I wished I had strength enough to send our tormentors flying.
“Hallo! here we are then,” cried Burr major. “I knew it. They were going to have a tuck-out. Look, boys, they meant to have ‘toad in the hole’ for supper, and here’s the toad.”
This was as he held out the bloated skin of the unfortunate frog.
“Hooray!” shouted the boys, who were looking on with rapturous delight, and the more we struggled to get free, the greater their enjoyment seemed.
“You coward!—you brute!” panted Mercer. “How would you like your box turned out?”
“Ever so. Come and do it and you’ll see.—Oh!”
This last was with quite a shout.
“What is it?” cried the boys who held us. “Let’s look, Burr.”
“You take it out if you dare,” cried Mercer, who, however, as he told me afterwards, had not the least idea what was coming next.
“Oh yes, I’ll take it out,” said Burr major.
“You coward! you miserable old Eely tailor!”
“Hold your tongue, will you!” cried Burr major, turning sharply round and giving Mercer a savage kick as he lay on his back, with one boy sitting on his chest, another on his legs.
“Brute!” cried Mercer, setting his teeth and trying hard not to let the tears come.
“You great long coward!” I cried; “you wouldn’t dare to do that if he were not down.”
“You hold your row,” he cried, and as I stood thus held, I received a sharp, back-handed blow on the mouth, which made my lip bleed.
“Bring it out, Dicksee.”
The latter wanted no second telling, but dived down into poor Mercer’s treasure-chest, and brought out the pot of preserving paste.
“There!” cried Burr major, taking up the pot with a face wrinkled up with disgust; “now we’ve found him out. See this, boys. Poison!”
“Oh!” chorused the little party of his parasites.
“That’s the way he does it. He’s worse than a witch. This is what he keeps to give to the fellows, and pretends it’s physic, same as his nasty old father uses.”
“I don’t, boys—it isn’t true; and my father’s a gentleman, not an old snip.”
“Do you want me to kick you again?” said Burr major savagely.
“Yes, if you dare,” cried Mercer defiantly.
“Just you wait a bit, my lad, till I’m done. Yes, boys, that’s it Dicksee, he gave you some of that, and it made you so ill the other day.”
“Then we’ll show it to the Doctor,” cried Dicksee.
“I didn’t!” cried Mercer. “That’s to preserve with.”
“Yes, that’s it,” cried Burr major—“to preserve with. Do you hear, boys? He keeps that to put in jam.”
There was a shout at this, and I saw Mercer writhe in his impotence.
“Tell you what, we’ll rout out the whole lot, and take them down in the stable-yard and burn them.”
“You let them alone,” cried Mercer frantically, as Burr major scraped out a double handful of the hoarded treasures and threw them on the floor.
“Hold him down tight, or I shall hurt him,” said Burr major contemptuously.
But his words came too late, for Mercer made a sudden heave, which threw the boy on his chest off sidewise, sprang up into a sitting position, and hit out at the boy on his legs, who howled on receiving a crack on the ear; and this so roused me to action that I too wrested myself free and followed suit. I flew at Dicksee, and struck him full in the breast, sending him in his surprise down in a sitting position, just as Mercer struck our tyrant a sounding smack on the cheek.
Burr major staggered back and held his hand to his face.
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” he said with a snarl. “All right, boys, Senna Tea wants me to boil him up again.”
“You stand by me, Burr junior, won’t you?” cried Mercer, who looked now as if he were a little startled at his daring.
“Yes,” I said desperately, though I felt horribly afraid.
“Oh no, you don’t,” said Burr major, taking off his jacket; “I don’t want to knock your silly head off. You wait till I’ve thrashed Master Physic, and then old Dicksee shall give you your dose.”
I saw Dicksee look at him with rather a startled aspect, but Burr major took no notice beyond giving him a contemptuous glance, as he neatly folded up his jacket, and then removed his waistcoat.
“Here, Bill Ducie, go down and shut the stable door, and lock it inside,” continued Burr major in a lofty tone; “we don’t want to be interrupted before we’ve polished off these two beggars.”
The boy ran down, and it sounded very formidable to hear the door bang and the rusty lock turned.
“Now then, off with that coat, sir,” said Burr major, as he began rolling up his shirt over his thin white arms. “I’m not going to wait all day. The bell will ring for dinner directly. Hold my clothes, one of you; I don’t want them dirty.”
I saw Mercer set his teeth as he pulled off his jacket and vest, and he pitched them both into the big bin, looking very stubborn and determined the while.
“Here, Dicksee, you come and second me, I’ll second you afterward. You new boy, you’d better second old Senna. Pah! how physicky he smells!”
I had the vaguest notions of what I had to do, but I imitated Dicksee as well as I could, as the boys stood on one side breathless with excitement, and Burr major and Mercer faced each other with their fists clenched.
Then there was a due amount of sparring, followed by a few blows given and taken, and Burr major drew back and sat down on Dicksee’s knee, Mercer taking his place on mine.
“Did he hurt you much?” I whispered.
“Horrid,” was whispered back, “and I can’t half get to hit at him.”
Then some one shouted, and they fought again, with the result that my blood seemed to boil as poor Mercer came staggering back.
“Had enough?” said Burr major in lofty tones.
For answer Mercer flew at him, and there was another long, fierce round, which seemed to consist in Mercer’s adversary driving him about the place, knocking him about just as much as he liked, and ending by sending him staggering back, so that he would have fallen all in a heap had I not caught him in my arms.
“Had enough, Doctor?” cried Burr major contemptuously, and as I supported Mercer he uttered a low sob of misery.
“Yes, he’s done. Now, Dicksee, I’ll second you.—Off with your togs and polish him off till his face shines. Now then, look sharp, Senna, you’ve got to back your chap.”
I heard Mercer grind his teeth, and I felt giddy with excitement as he whispered to me,—
“Don’t be afraid of him, he’s a coward. Take off your things, and you try hard if you can’t lick him.”
“Must I fight?” I said.
“Now then, you sir, off with that jacket,” cried Burr major, “or he’ll give you the coward’s blow.”
This roused me, and I stripped for the battle, feeling very nervous and uncomfortable, while Mercer drew a long breath, mastered the pain he was in, and, after throwing my jacket and waistcoat in the bin with his own, began to whisper his instructions to me.
“Now then, off you go,” said Burr major. “Be smart, Dicksee, the bell will go directly.”
Dicksee made a savage run at me as I put up my arms, there were a few blows, all of which came to my share, and there was a roar of laughter as the round ended in a struggle, and I went down, with Dicksee on me, and my head giving a stunning rap on the boards.
“Don’t let him wrestle with you,” whispered Mercer excitedly, as he helped me up, and I sat upon his knee, feeling very dizzy and half blind with rage.
“There,” shouted Burr major, “finish the beggar this time, Dicky!”
I have some recollection of our encountering again, and feeling blow after blow on my face, on my ear, chest, and shoulders; and our going down once more in another wrestling match.
“Never mind,” whispered Mercer; “you’re doing splendidly.”
“Am I?” I gasped.
“Yes; only keep him off more, and hit straight out like he does.”
“Now then,” cried Burr major again, “I want to go and wash my hands. Come along, new boy, and lay your nose against old Dicksy’s left, and your left eye against his right, and then he’ll smooth your cheeks over and lay you on the boards, and by that time I think you’ll be about cooked.”
“Don’t let him lick you,” whispered Mercer imploringly. “Do give it him this time. Hit him on the nose always, he don’t like that.”
“There!” roared Burr major, as, giddy and confused, I was swinging my arms about, hitting nothing half the time, and never getting one blow home with any force to signify, and at last, after a few minutes of burning rage and confusion, during which I had received quite a shower of blows, I found myself, giddy and panting, seated upon the floor, listening to Burr major’s voice.
“That’s enough, Dicky; that’ll do the beggars no end of good, and make ’em behave themselves when they meet gentlemen. Come on, boys. Here, you two, go and wash yourselves, and make yourselves right. The bell will ring directly, and if old Reb sees you’ve been fighting, he’ll report you both to the Doctor, and you’ll get no end of punishment.”
This seemed the unkindest cut of all, and as soon as the boys had gone racing down into the yard, where Dicksee gave vent to a loud “Cock-a-doodle-doo,” I slowly rose to my feet and faced Mercer, who was gazing straight before him.
“I say,” I panted, for I was breathless still, “did I win?”
“You? No,” he cried savagely. “You can’t fight any more than I can, and the brutes have beaten us both. Here, let’s look at you. Oh, you ain’t much marked, only your nose bleeds a bit. That’s where you ought to have hit him.”
“I did try to,” I said despondently; “but he wouldn’t let me.”
“Never mind, put on your things. I say, are my eyes swollen?”
“One of them’s puffed up a bit, and your lip’s cut like mine is.”
“Never mind. Come and have a wash.”
“Shan’t you lock up your museum?”
“Not now. I don’t care for it after what they’ve done. Yes, I do; I’ll come up afterwards,” he continued, rapidly replacing the pot of preserving paste. “Come along, and try and look as if nothing was the matter.”
I followed him as soon as we had put on our clothes, and then we hurried to the row of basins and towels, barely completing our ablutions when the bell rang, and not looking so very much the worse.
“Never mind, old chap,” whispered Mercer, as we went into the schoolroom to dinner, with the boys all watching us and making remarks; “wait a bit, and we’ll have revenge.”
“How?” I said, as with a horrifying rapidity the pot of poison came into my mind.
“Never you mind;” he whispered tragically. “Bitter revenge! Only you wait.”
There was a tapping on the end table just then, and all the boys rose. Then the Doctor’s deep, bland voice uttered the word,—
“Grace!”