Chapter Nineteen.

Chapter Nineteen.Corder strikes a Blow for Liberty.The absence of the juniors had excited no curiosity in either house till evening. It was a holiday, and though the rule was that even on a holiday no boy should go “out of touch,” as it was called, that is, beyond a certain radius, without permission, it was not always enforced. The Modern seniors had every reason to guess the object of this prolonged absence. They had promised many things to the juniors when they caught them. It was not surprising, while things were as warm as they were, that the young rebels should give Fellsgarth a wide berth.As to the Classic juniors, no one was surprised at anything they did, in reason.But when “call-over” came and all nine names were returned absent (in addition to that of Rollitt and a few other habitual vagrants), fellows began to ask where they were.“Has any one seen Wally?” asked Yorke, who had just had the unusual experience of making his own tea and cooking his own eggs.“He’s probably fooling about somewhere out of bounds with my fag,” said Ranger. “He’ll have to catch it, Fisher, though he is your brother.”“Let him have it,” said Fisher. “I’d do the same to your young brother if I had the chance. But to change the subject, I’ve something to tell you fellows that’s rather awkward. That money hasn’t turned up yet.”“That is awkward,” said Yorke. “I wish I could help you out with it, but I’m cleaned out.”“Oh, that’s not it. Of course I’m responsible, and must get the governor to make it good. Dear old governor, he’ll do it, but he’ll pull a precious long face, and go round the house lowering the gas and telling every one he must economise, with two such expensive sons as me and my minor at school. It’s not that, though. Dangle came over this morning, and wanted to know what we were going to do about the accounts, now we’ve dissolved the clubs; and somehow or other he’s heard of the deficiency, and wants to know all about it.”“I hope you told him,” said Yorke.“Of course I did; but he told me a lot more than I could tell him. He thinks he knows what’s become of it.”And Fisher proceeded to narrate Dangle’s suspicions against Rollitt.The captain’s face grew very long as the story went on. Then he said—“I hope to goodness there’s nothing in it. Is it a fact about Widow Wisdom’s boat?”“Yes; my young brother was with Rollitt that day, and told me about it as a secret. But as it’s out now, there’s no good keeping it.”“Dangle has a spite against Rollitt. If any one else had told you this, there might have been something in it.”“And if it had been any one but Rollitt bought the boat, it would have been nothing. But he’s so frightfully poor. He’d no time to write home, even if he could have got money from there, and there was no one here he could borrow of. Why, he must have gone off very first thing in the morning and bought the boat.”“And are you quite certain you had all the money collected by that Saturday?” asked Yorke.“Yes; and what’s more, I’m almost certain I counted it and made it come right. That’s the last time it has come right.”The captain drummed his fingers on the table and looked very miserable.“I wish, Fisher,” said he, “I hadn’t advised you to take that treasurership. If we could only be quite sure there wasn’t some mistake in the accounts, it would be different. It would be a frightful thing to suspect Rollitt unless it was absolutely certain.”“You’re welcome to round on me,” said Fisher, looking quite as miserable as his chief. “I was a fool to take your advice. I’d much sooner make the money up myself, and not say a word about it to any one.”“You can’t do that now. You may be sure Dangle won’t let it drop.”“What shall you do?” asked Ranger.“What wouldyoudo?” said Yorke, testily. “Isn’t it bad enough to be in a fix like this without being asked hopeless questions? I’m sorry, old man, I’ve lost my temper; and as it’s not come back I vote we say no more on the subject at present.”The evening wore on, and still the truants did not return. At ten o’clock Yorke reported their absence to Mr Wakefield, and Mr Wakefield reported it to the head-master. A similar report reached him from the matron of Mr Forders house with regard to the missing ones there; and presently, further report was made that Rollitt was not in the school.No one could give any account of their probable whereabouts. Rollitt had been seen going out with a rod early in the day, but no one had seen any of the juniors since last night, when they had prematurely gone to bed in their own dormitory. A consultation was held, in which all sorts of conjectures were put forward, the most plausible of which was that the juniors had organised an expedition to Seastrand, a fashionable watering-place an hour distant on the railway, which both Wally and Lickford had separately been heard to express a desire to visit. It seemed probable that they had lost the last train back, and would literally “not come home till morning.”In which case warm things were promised to be ready for my gentlemen.As to Rollitt, his vagaries were consistent with any explanation. He may have gone to Penchurch in mistake for Fellsgarth, and curled himself up in the church porch, mistaking it for his bed.In any case the general impression was that nothing could be done till morning, and that the juniors at least were making themselves pretty comfortable, wherever they might be.Still, Fisher major felt a vague uneasiness. Had he been quite sure his brother was in the capable company of his fellow-fags, he would have been comparatively comfortable. But the possibility of the feckless youngster wandering about benighted somewhere on his own account added a new weight to the burden which already lay on the spirit of the luckless treasurer of the School clubs.“I’ve a good mind to turn out and look for my minor,” said he to Denton.“What could you do? He’s all right. You couldn’t do anything in the dark, and on a night like this. I’m game to turn out any hour you like in the morning, if he’s not come by then. I bet you the four young scamps will all stroll in for call-over, and wonder whatever the fuss was about.”There was nothing to be done, and Fisher lay awake all night, listening to every sound, and reproaching himself over and over again (as one will do when everything goes wrong) that he had made such a mess of everything this term.About daybreak there came a ring at the school-bell, and half the school jumped to its feet. Fisher was down on the Green among the first, in slippers and ulster.Five shivering youngsters were standing inside the gate, with dripping garments and chattering teeth and white faces—D’Arcy, Lickford, Ramshaw, Cottle, and Cash—but no Fisher minor.“Where’s my minor?” asked the senior.“What! hasn’t he turned up?” said D’Arcy. “Haven’t Wally and Percy and Ashby turned up? We got lost on Hawk’s Pike. I’m awfully hungry, I say.”“No one’s turned up. Do you mean to say he’s out on the hill a night like this?”“He was behind—he and Ashby. He was a lame duck, you know. The others were in front.”“Were they together?”“Who? Young Fisher minor and Ashby? I don’t think so.”“Ashby yelled to see if we knew where he was, and must have gone to look for him. We made sure they’d be back long ago, didn’t we, you chaps?”Here the doctor and several of the prefects came on the scene. The truants were ordered to the hot bath and bed at once, and a council was held as to what should be done. Fisher major did not wait to take part in it. He rushed to his room, flung on his clothes and boots, and started off, accompanied by Denton, at full speed, in the direction of the mountain.Neither spoke a word. As they passed Widow Wisdom’s, Denton darted in.“Have your fire alight and some food ready. Some of our youngsters have been all night on the mountain. We’re going to look for them.”Half-way to the lake, they were pulled up by a shout from across the stream. It was Percy Wheatfield, dead beat, sitting on a log, as white and miserable as a ghost.“I say, have you chaps seen Wally?” he called.“No; we’re off to look. Some of them have turned up. Can you get as far as Widow Wisdom’s? There’s a roaring fire and some grub waiting there. We’ll see after Wally.”Percy staggered to his feet. He had been wandering, he could not say where, all night. The very mention of the words “fire” and “food” revived him.“Get up to school as soon as you can and get to bed. You can’t be any use looking for the rest. There’s plenty of us to do that. Good-bye.”It was half-past seven when they reached the lake and turned up the mountain path. The mist had vanished, and the late autumn sun was shining brightly on the hill-side. The distant barking of a dog above apprised them that some one was abroad already, and the hopes of the searchers rose within them as they struck up the steep slope.Half-way up they stood and shouted; but no reply came except the far-away barking of the shepherd’s dogs. “We shall be able to see a good way all round when we get on to the ridge,” said Denton.Almost as he spoke, a shout close by startled them. Looking up they perceived emerging from behind some boulders a little procession.Fisher major’s blood ran cold as he saw it. For at the head stalked a stalwart guide, who carried in his arms one small boy, while in the rear followed a form which they recognised as Rollitt’s carrying on his back another. Between the two tramped a third junior, hanging on to the arm of another guide.What terrified Fisher major more than anything was to see that the head of the boy on Rollitt’s back had fallen helplessly forward on the shoulder of his porter.With a groan the elder brother bounded to the spot. The history of years flashed through his mind as he did so. He saw the people at home and heard their voices. He seemed to be in the nursery, hectoring it, as big brothers will, among the little ones, amongst whom was a little boy with curly hair and a shrill piping voice. He called to mind the first-night of this term, and the vision of his young brother breaking down with his new-boy troubles next morning. All this and more fleeted through his mind as he bounded to where Rollitt stood.“Hush!” said the latter, almost gruffly. “Asleep.”So he was. It had scarcely roused him when Rollitt had picked him up two hours ago from his roost under the rocking-stone. And having once been perched on his preserver’s back his head fell forward again, and there it had lain ever since. How Rollitt had carried him so far, resting only now and then, and that in a way not to disturb his burden, only those who knew the huge strength of the Fellsgarth giant could understand.“Hullo,” said Wally, greeting the new-comers in a limp, sleepy way, “have you seen my young brother Percy? He was—”“Yes—Percy’s all right; so are all the rest.”“I’m all right,” sang out Ashby from the front. “This chap wanted to carry me, so I let him.”“Jolly glad you were to get the lift,” said Wally. “You new kids oughtn’t to have come. Twenty-four hours on the hills is nothing when you get used to—”Here Wally (who had had twenty-six hours) suddenly collapsed and tumbled over from sheer fatigue on the grass.Fisher and Denton made a chair of their hands for him, and so the procession went on.A cart was in waiting at the foot of the slope, filled with warm wraps and other restoratives, and in less than two hours the whole party was safe inside the walls of Fellsgarth.Hot baths, blankets, food, and a little physic, succeeded in a very few days in restoring the invalided truants to their sorrowing class-mates. Fisher minor was the only member of the party about whom any serious uneasiness existed, and he, thanks to a wiry constitution and a rooted dislike to do what nobody else did, got off with a bad cold, which detained him in his house for a fortnight.Rollitt, as might have been expected, vanished to his own quarters as soon as he had deposited his precious burden into Mr Wakefield’s charge. No one heard of his having been to the top. To Fisher’s thanks he returned a grumpy “Not at all.” And the curious inquiries of others he met by shutting his door and saying “Get out” to any one who entered.As might be expected also, the Modern seniors were baulked, after all, of their promised vengeance on the rebels. On the contrary, while the fags were making merry on chicken and toasting their toes at the roaring fire in the sanatorium, Clapperton, Brinkman, and Dangle were hauled up into the presence of the head-master, and there seriously reprimanded for the damage done to one of the doors in Mr Forder’s house, and cautioned not to let such a breach of discipline happen again, under a pain of severer penalties.“If you are unable to keep order in your own house,” said the doctor cuttingly, “your duty is to report the matter to me, and I will deal with it. Remember that another time.”This incident did not tend to smooth the ruffled plumes of the discomfited heroes.Still less did another little rebuff, which happened a few days later.Corder had taken advantage of the general excitement attending the escapade of the juniors to return to his own quarters and attempt once more to resume the privileges of ordinary civilised life. He only partially succeeded. Two or three boys, among whom was Fullerton, who were getting sick of the present state of affairs and longing for football once more, had begun seriously to doubt what advantage was coming to themselves or any one else by the strike. Among these Corder found a temporary shelter. But the authority of the seniors still controlled the general public opinion of the house, and the life of the boycotted boy was still only half tolerable.At the first attempt at violence, however, Corder walked across to his Classic allies, and took up his quarters in their study, where he remained all day.At bedtime he declined to return to his own house; particularly when a summons to that effect was sent across by Clapperton, who by this time had a very good idea of the rebel’s whereabouts.“I’m not going over,” said Corder.“But you can’t stay here all night,” said Denton.“What shall you do—turn me out?” asked the fugitive.“No. But you’d better go, and if you don’t like the look of things out there, you’d better speak to Forder.”“No. I’d sooner stop,” said Corder, doggedly. “I’m sorry to put you fellows about after your being so kind, but I’m not going over there.”Yorke was consulted, and took upon himself the responsibility of detaining the refugee for the night.“All right, thanks,” said Corder, and turned in.Next morning word came from Mr Forder requiring that the truant should answer for his absence.Corder obeyed, with some misgivings, and explained briefly that he had been bullied and did not want to stand it.Mr Forder, who had a peculiar faculty for saddling the wrong horse, was not satisfied with this explanation, and chose to suspect some other. Corder had never been a satisfactory boy. He had probably been making himself objectionable, and had been glad of an excuse to break rules. The master did not demand particulars. He gave the culprit an imposition, and ordered him to obey the rules of his house; and another time, if he had any grievance, to come with it to him instead of taking the law into his own hands.Whereupon Corder departed in high dudgeon.It was no use holding out now. He had better give in, and own himself beaten. It would be so much easier than resisting any longer.For an hour of two he was permitted to go in and out unmolested. But after morning school, he was going out to solace himself with some solitary kicks at the football, when just on the steps of the house Brinkman pounced upon him.“I’ve got you now, have I, you cad?” said he. “You just come back with me.”“I won’t. Let go!” cried Corder, in a temporary panic, wriggling himself away and escaping a few yards.Brinkman, however, was quickly after him, determined this time to hold him fast. Corder, though a senior, was a small boy, and had never before thought of pitting, himself against the Modern bully.But once already this term he had come suddenly to realise that he could do better than he gave himself credit for. And now that matters seemed desperate, when there was no escape, and his fate stared him in the face, it occurred to Corder he would show fight.He had right on his side. He had done no harm to Brinkman or anybody else. Why shouldn’t he let out, and stand up for himself?So, to Brinkman’s utter amazement, he was met by a blow and a defiant challenge to “come on.”What Brinkman might have done is doubtful, but at that moment Yorke and Ranger strolled by.“Hullo! What’s this? A fight?” said the captain.“Rather,” said Corder, now thoroughly strung up to the point. “I say, Yorke, will you stop and see fair play?”The captain hesitated a moment. Any other fight he would have felt it his duty to stop. This fight seemed to be an exception. It would probably do more good than harm.“Yes, if you like,” said he.“I’m not going to fight a little beggar like that,” said Brinkman.“Yes, you are,” said Ranger, “and I’ll see fair play for you.”“I promise you I’ll make it so hot for him that he’ll be sorry for it.”“I don’t care,” said Corder. “If you don’t fight you’re a coward. There!”At this point Dangle came out.“Here, your man wants a second,” said Ranger; “you’ll suit him better than I.”The usual crowd collected, minus the junior faction, who complained bitterly for a year after that they had been deliberately done out of being present by the malice of the principals. One result of their absence was that the proceedings were comparatively quiet. Every one present knew what the quarrel was, and not a few, for their own sakes, hoped Corder would make a good fight of it.Dangle sneered at the whole thing, and counselled his man audibly not to be too hard on the little fool.His advice was not wanted. Corder, for a fellow of his make and inexperience, exhibited good form, and persistently walked his man round the ring, dodging his blows and getting in a knock for himself every now and then. Brinkman soon dropped the disdainful style in which he commenced proceedings, and became proportionately wild and unsteady.“Now’s your chance, young ’un; he’s lost his temper,” whispered the captain.Whereupon Corder, hardly knowing how he managed it, danced his man once more round and round, till he was out of breath, and then slipped in with a right, left—left, right, which, though they made up hardly one good blow among them, were so well planted, and followed one another so rapidly, that Brinkman lost his balance under them, and fell sprawling on the ground.At the same moment Mr Stratton came up, and the crowd dispersed as if by magic.“What is this?” said the master, appealing to the captain.“A fight, sir,” said Yorke. “A necessary one.”“Between Corder and Brinkman? Come and tell me about it, Yorke.”So while Corder, amid the jubilations of his supporters, who had grown twenty-fold since the beginning of the fight, was being escorted to his quarters, and Brinkman, crestfallen and bewildered, was being left by his disgusted backers to help himself, Yorke strolled on with Mr Stratton, and gave him, as well as he could, an account of the circumstances which for weeks had been leading up to this climax.“I think it was as well to allow it,” said the master, “but there must be no more of it. You have a hard task before you to pull things together, Yorke, but it will be work well done.”“Was it the right thing to dissolve the clubs, sir?” asked Yorke.“At the time, yes. But watch your chance of reviving them. You must have some common interest on foot, to bring the two sides together.”The captain walked back to his house in a brown study. He had half hoped Mr Stratton might offer to interpose and restore the harmony of the School. But no, the master had left it to the captain, and Yorke’s courage rose within him. God helping him, he would pull Fellsgarth together before he left.On the Green he met Fullerton. It was long since the Modern and Classic seniors had nodded as they passed, but in the curious perversity of things both did so now.“There’s been a fight, I hear?” said Fullerton.“Yes. Brinkman and Corder. Corder had the best of it.”“I’m jolly glad. Corder’s got more pluck than you’d give him credit for.”“Yes; he’s had a rough time of it in your house.”“So he has, poor beggar. It’s rather humiliating to wait till he has licked his man before one takes his side; but upon my word, I’m as sick of it all as he is.”“It is rather rough on fellows who aren’t allowed to do what they’ve a right to do,” said Yorke. “I say, have you anything special on after afternoon school?”“No, why?”“Only that I wish you’d come and have tea with me.”Fullerton laughed.“Bribery and corruption?” said he. “Anyhow, I’ll come.”

The absence of the juniors had excited no curiosity in either house till evening. It was a holiday, and though the rule was that even on a holiday no boy should go “out of touch,” as it was called, that is, beyond a certain radius, without permission, it was not always enforced. The Modern seniors had every reason to guess the object of this prolonged absence. They had promised many things to the juniors when they caught them. It was not surprising, while things were as warm as they were, that the young rebels should give Fellsgarth a wide berth.

As to the Classic juniors, no one was surprised at anything they did, in reason.

But when “call-over” came and all nine names were returned absent (in addition to that of Rollitt and a few other habitual vagrants), fellows began to ask where they were.

“Has any one seen Wally?” asked Yorke, who had just had the unusual experience of making his own tea and cooking his own eggs.

“He’s probably fooling about somewhere out of bounds with my fag,” said Ranger. “He’ll have to catch it, Fisher, though he is your brother.”

“Let him have it,” said Fisher. “I’d do the same to your young brother if I had the chance. But to change the subject, I’ve something to tell you fellows that’s rather awkward. That money hasn’t turned up yet.”

“That is awkward,” said Yorke. “I wish I could help you out with it, but I’m cleaned out.”

“Oh, that’s not it. Of course I’m responsible, and must get the governor to make it good. Dear old governor, he’ll do it, but he’ll pull a precious long face, and go round the house lowering the gas and telling every one he must economise, with two such expensive sons as me and my minor at school. It’s not that, though. Dangle came over this morning, and wanted to know what we were going to do about the accounts, now we’ve dissolved the clubs; and somehow or other he’s heard of the deficiency, and wants to know all about it.”

“I hope you told him,” said Yorke.

“Of course I did; but he told me a lot more than I could tell him. He thinks he knows what’s become of it.”

And Fisher proceeded to narrate Dangle’s suspicions against Rollitt.

The captain’s face grew very long as the story went on. Then he said—

“I hope to goodness there’s nothing in it. Is it a fact about Widow Wisdom’s boat?”

“Yes; my young brother was with Rollitt that day, and told me about it as a secret. But as it’s out now, there’s no good keeping it.”

“Dangle has a spite against Rollitt. If any one else had told you this, there might have been something in it.”

“And if it had been any one but Rollitt bought the boat, it would have been nothing. But he’s so frightfully poor. He’d no time to write home, even if he could have got money from there, and there was no one here he could borrow of. Why, he must have gone off very first thing in the morning and bought the boat.”

“And are you quite certain you had all the money collected by that Saturday?” asked Yorke.

“Yes; and what’s more, I’m almost certain I counted it and made it come right. That’s the last time it has come right.”

The captain drummed his fingers on the table and looked very miserable.

“I wish, Fisher,” said he, “I hadn’t advised you to take that treasurership. If we could only be quite sure there wasn’t some mistake in the accounts, it would be different. It would be a frightful thing to suspect Rollitt unless it was absolutely certain.”

“You’re welcome to round on me,” said Fisher, looking quite as miserable as his chief. “I was a fool to take your advice. I’d much sooner make the money up myself, and not say a word about it to any one.”

“You can’t do that now. You may be sure Dangle won’t let it drop.”

“What shall you do?” asked Ranger.

“What wouldyoudo?” said Yorke, testily. “Isn’t it bad enough to be in a fix like this without being asked hopeless questions? I’m sorry, old man, I’ve lost my temper; and as it’s not come back I vote we say no more on the subject at present.”

The evening wore on, and still the truants did not return. At ten o’clock Yorke reported their absence to Mr Wakefield, and Mr Wakefield reported it to the head-master. A similar report reached him from the matron of Mr Forders house with regard to the missing ones there; and presently, further report was made that Rollitt was not in the school.

No one could give any account of their probable whereabouts. Rollitt had been seen going out with a rod early in the day, but no one had seen any of the juniors since last night, when they had prematurely gone to bed in their own dormitory. A consultation was held, in which all sorts of conjectures were put forward, the most plausible of which was that the juniors had organised an expedition to Seastrand, a fashionable watering-place an hour distant on the railway, which both Wally and Lickford had separately been heard to express a desire to visit. It seemed probable that they had lost the last train back, and would literally “not come home till morning.”

In which case warm things were promised to be ready for my gentlemen.

As to Rollitt, his vagaries were consistent with any explanation. He may have gone to Penchurch in mistake for Fellsgarth, and curled himself up in the church porch, mistaking it for his bed.

In any case the general impression was that nothing could be done till morning, and that the juniors at least were making themselves pretty comfortable, wherever they might be.

Still, Fisher major felt a vague uneasiness. Had he been quite sure his brother was in the capable company of his fellow-fags, he would have been comparatively comfortable. But the possibility of the feckless youngster wandering about benighted somewhere on his own account added a new weight to the burden which already lay on the spirit of the luckless treasurer of the School clubs.

“I’ve a good mind to turn out and look for my minor,” said he to Denton.

“What could you do? He’s all right. You couldn’t do anything in the dark, and on a night like this. I’m game to turn out any hour you like in the morning, if he’s not come by then. I bet you the four young scamps will all stroll in for call-over, and wonder whatever the fuss was about.”

There was nothing to be done, and Fisher lay awake all night, listening to every sound, and reproaching himself over and over again (as one will do when everything goes wrong) that he had made such a mess of everything this term.

About daybreak there came a ring at the school-bell, and half the school jumped to its feet. Fisher was down on the Green among the first, in slippers and ulster.

Five shivering youngsters were standing inside the gate, with dripping garments and chattering teeth and white faces—D’Arcy, Lickford, Ramshaw, Cottle, and Cash—but no Fisher minor.

“Where’s my minor?” asked the senior.

“What! hasn’t he turned up?” said D’Arcy. “Haven’t Wally and Percy and Ashby turned up? We got lost on Hawk’s Pike. I’m awfully hungry, I say.”

“No one’s turned up. Do you mean to say he’s out on the hill a night like this?”

“He was behind—he and Ashby. He was a lame duck, you know. The others were in front.”

“Were they together?”

“Who? Young Fisher minor and Ashby? I don’t think so.”

“Ashby yelled to see if we knew where he was, and must have gone to look for him. We made sure they’d be back long ago, didn’t we, you chaps?”

Here the doctor and several of the prefects came on the scene. The truants were ordered to the hot bath and bed at once, and a council was held as to what should be done. Fisher major did not wait to take part in it. He rushed to his room, flung on his clothes and boots, and started off, accompanied by Denton, at full speed, in the direction of the mountain.

Neither spoke a word. As they passed Widow Wisdom’s, Denton darted in.

“Have your fire alight and some food ready. Some of our youngsters have been all night on the mountain. We’re going to look for them.”

Half-way to the lake, they were pulled up by a shout from across the stream. It was Percy Wheatfield, dead beat, sitting on a log, as white and miserable as a ghost.

“I say, have you chaps seen Wally?” he called.

“No; we’re off to look. Some of them have turned up. Can you get as far as Widow Wisdom’s? There’s a roaring fire and some grub waiting there. We’ll see after Wally.”

Percy staggered to his feet. He had been wandering, he could not say where, all night. The very mention of the words “fire” and “food” revived him.

“Get up to school as soon as you can and get to bed. You can’t be any use looking for the rest. There’s plenty of us to do that. Good-bye.”

It was half-past seven when they reached the lake and turned up the mountain path. The mist had vanished, and the late autumn sun was shining brightly on the hill-side. The distant barking of a dog above apprised them that some one was abroad already, and the hopes of the searchers rose within them as they struck up the steep slope.

Half-way up they stood and shouted; but no reply came except the far-away barking of the shepherd’s dogs. “We shall be able to see a good way all round when we get on to the ridge,” said Denton.

Almost as he spoke, a shout close by startled them. Looking up they perceived emerging from behind some boulders a little procession.

Fisher major’s blood ran cold as he saw it. For at the head stalked a stalwart guide, who carried in his arms one small boy, while in the rear followed a form which they recognised as Rollitt’s carrying on his back another. Between the two tramped a third junior, hanging on to the arm of another guide.

What terrified Fisher major more than anything was to see that the head of the boy on Rollitt’s back had fallen helplessly forward on the shoulder of his porter.

With a groan the elder brother bounded to the spot. The history of years flashed through his mind as he did so. He saw the people at home and heard their voices. He seemed to be in the nursery, hectoring it, as big brothers will, among the little ones, amongst whom was a little boy with curly hair and a shrill piping voice. He called to mind the first-night of this term, and the vision of his young brother breaking down with his new-boy troubles next morning. All this and more fleeted through his mind as he bounded to where Rollitt stood.

“Hush!” said the latter, almost gruffly. “Asleep.”

So he was. It had scarcely roused him when Rollitt had picked him up two hours ago from his roost under the rocking-stone. And having once been perched on his preserver’s back his head fell forward again, and there it had lain ever since. How Rollitt had carried him so far, resting only now and then, and that in a way not to disturb his burden, only those who knew the huge strength of the Fellsgarth giant could understand.

“Hullo,” said Wally, greeting the new-comers in a limp, sleepy way, “have you seen my young brother Percy? He was—”

“Yes—Percy’s all right; so are all the rest.”

“I’m all right,” sang out Ashby from the front. “This chap wanted to carry me, so I let him.”

“Jolly glad you were to get the lift,” said Wally. “You new kids oughtn’t to have come. Twenty-four hours on the hills is nothing when you get used to—”

Here Wally (who had had twenty-six hours) suddenly collapsed and tumbled over from sheer fatigue on the grass.

Fisher and Denton made a chair of their hands for him, and so the procession went on.

A cart was in waiting at the foot of the slope, filled with warm wraps and other restoratives, and in less than two hours the whole party was safe inside the walls of Fellsgarth.

Hot baths, blankets, food, and a little physic, succeeded in a very few days in restoring the invalided truants to their sorrowing class-mates. Fisher minor was the only member of the party about whom any serious uneasiness existed, and he, thanks to a wiry constitution and a rooted dislike to do what nobody else did, got off with a bad cold, which detained him in his house for a fortnight.

Rollitt, as might have been expected, vanished to his own quarters as soon as he had deposited his precious burden into Mr Wakefield’s charge. No one heard of his having been to the top. To Fisher’s thanks he returned a grumpy “Not at all.” And the curious inquiries of others he met by shutting his door and saying “Get out” to any one who entered.

As might be expected also, the Modern seniors were baulked, after all, of their promised vengeance on the rebels. On the contrary, while the fags were making merry on chicken and toasting their toes at the roaring fire in the sanatorium, Clapperton, Brinkman, and Dangle were hauled up into the presence of the head-master, and there seriously reprimanded for the damage done to one of the doors in Mr Forder’s house, and cautioned not to let such a breach of discipline happen again, under a pain of severer penalties.

“If you are unable to keep order in your own house,” said the doctor cuttingly, “your duty is to report the matter to me, and I will deal with it. Remember that another time.”

This incident did not tend to smooth the ruffled plumes of the discomfited heroes.

Still less did another little rebuff, which happened a few days later.

Corder had taken advantage of the general excitement attending the escapade of the juniors to return to his own quarters and attempt once more to resume the privileges of ordinary civilised life. He only partially succeeded. Two or three boys, among whom was Fullerton, who were getting sick of the present state of affairs and longing for football once more, had begun seriously to doubt what advantage was coming to themselves or any one else by the strike. Among these Corder found a temporary shelter. But the authority of the seniors still controlled the general public opinion of the house, and the life of the boycotted boy was still only half tolerable.

At the first attempt at violence, however, Corder walked across to his Classic allies, and took up his quarters in their study, where he remained all day.

At bedtime he declined to return to his own house; particularly when a summons to that effect was sent across by Clapperton, who by this time had a very good idea of the rebel’s whereabouts.

“I’m not going over,” said Corder.

“But you can’t stay here all night,” said Denton.

“What shall you do—turn me out?” asked the fugitive.

“No. But you’d better go, and if you don’t like the look of things out there, you’d better speak to Forder.”

“No. I’d sooner stop,” said Corder, doggedly. “I’m sorry to put you fellows about after your being so kind, but I’m not going over there.”

Yorke was consulted, and took upon himself the responsibility of detaining the refugee for the night.

“All right, thanks,” said Corder, and turned in.

Next morning word came from Mr Forder requiring that the truant should answer for his absence.

Corder obeyed, with some misgivings, and explained briefly that he had been bullied and did not want to stand it.

Mr Forder, who had a peculiar faculty for saddling the wrong horse, was not satisfied with this explanation, and chose to suspect some other. Corder had never been a satisfactory boy. He had probably been making himself objectionable, and had been glad of an excuse to break rules. The master did not demand particulars. He gave the culprit an imposition, and ordered him to obey the rules of his house; and another time, if he had any grievance, to come with it to him instead of taking the law into his own hands.

Whereupon Corder departed in high dudgeon.

It was no use holding out now. He had better give in, and own himself beaten. It would be so much easier than resisting any longer.

For an hour of two he was permitted to go in and out unmolested. But after morning school, he was going out to solace himself with some solitary kicks at the football, when just on the steps of the house Brinkman pounced upon him.

“I’ve got you now, have I, you cad?” said he. “You just come back with me.”

“I won’t. Let go!” cried Corder, in a temporary panic, wriggling himself away and escaping a few yards.

Brinkman, however, was quickly after him, determined this time to hold him fast. Corder, though a senior, was a small boy, and had never before thought of pitting, himself against the Modern bully.

But once already this term he had come suddenly to realise that he could do better than he gave himself credit for. And now that matters seemed desperate, when there was no escape, and his fate stared him in the face, it occurred to Corder he would show fight.

He had right on his side. He had done no harm to Brinkman or anybody else. Why shouldn’t he let out, and stand up for himself?

So, to Brinkman’s utter amazement, he was met by a blow and a defiant challenge to “come on.”

What Brinkman might have done is doubtful, but at that moment Yorke and Ranger strolled by.

“Hullo! What’s this? A fight?” said the captain.

“Rather,” said Corder, now thoroughly strung up to the point. “I say, Yorke, will you stop and see fair play?”

The captain hesitated a moment. Any other fight he would have felt it his duty to stop. This fight seemed to be an exception. It would probably do more good than harm.

“Yes, if you like,” said he.

“I’m not going to fight a little beggar like that,” said Brinkman.

“Yes, you are,” said Ranger, “and I’ll see fair play for you.”

“I promise you I’ll make it so hot for him that he’ll be sorry for it.”

“I don’t care,” said Corder. “If you don’t fight you’re a coward. There!”

At this point Dangle came out.

“Here, your man wants a second,” said Ranger; “you’ll suit him better than I.”

The usual crowd collected, minus the junior faction, who complained bitterly for a year after that they had been deliberately done out of being present by the malice of the principals. One result of their absence was that the proceedings were comparatively quiet. Every one present knew what the quarrel was, and not a few, for their own sakes, hoped Corder would make a good fight of it.

Dangle sneered at the whole thing, and counselled his man audibly not to be too hard on the little fool.

His advice was not wanted. Corder, for a fellow of his make and inexperience, exhibited good form, and persistently walked his man round the ring, dodging his blows and getting in a knock for himself every now and then. Brinkman soon dropped the disdainful style in which he commenced proceedings, and became proportionately wild and unsteady.

“Now’s your chance, young ’un; he’s lost his temper,” whispered the captain.

Whereupon Corder, hardly knowing how he managed it, danced his man once more round and round, till he was out of breath, and then slipped in with a right, left—left, right, which, though they made up hardly one good blow among them, were so well planted, and followed one another so rapidly, that Brinkman lost his balance under them, and fell sprawling on the ground.

At the same moment Mr Stratton came up, and the crowd dispersed as if by magic.

“What is this?” said the master, appealing to the captain.

“A fight, sir,” said Yorke. “A necessary one.”

“Between Corder and Brinkman? Come and tell me about it, Yorke.”

So while Corder, amid the jubilations of his supporters, who had grown twenty-fold since the beginning of the fight, was being escorted to his quarters, and Brinkman, crestfallen and bewildered, was being left by his disgusted backers to help himself, Yorke strolled on with Mr Stratton, and gave him, as well as he could, an account of the circumstances which for weeks had been leading up to this climax.

“I think it was as well to allow it,” said the master, “but there must be no more of it. You have a hard task before you to pull things together, Yorke, but it will be work well done.”

“Was it the right thing to dissolve the clubs, sir?” asked Yorke.

“At the time, yes. But watch your chance of reviving them. You must have some common interest on foot, to bring the two sides together.”

The captain walked back to his house in a brown study. He had half hoped Mr Stratton might offer to interpose and restore the harmony of the School. But no, the master had left it to the captain, and Yorke’s courage rose within him. God helping him, he would pull Fellsgarth together before he left.

On the Green he met Fullerton. It was long since the Modern and Classic seniors had nodded as they passed, but in the curious perversity of things both did so now.

“There’s been a fight, I hear?” said Fullerton.

“Yes. Brinkman and Corder. Corder had the best of it.”

“I’m jolly glad. Corder’s got more pluck than you’d give him credit for.”

“Yes; he’s had a rough time of it in your house.”

“So he has, poor beggar. It’s rather humiliating to wait till he has licked his man before one takes his side; but upon my word, I’m as sick of it all as he is.”

“It is rather rough on fellows who aren’t allowed to do what they’ve a right to do,” said Yorke. “I say, have you anything special on after afternoon school?”

“No, why?”

“Only that I wish you’d come and have tea with me.”

Fullerton laughed.

“Bribery and corruption?” said he. “Anyhow, I’ll come.”

Chapter Twenty.“Fama Volat.”The Modern seniors had certainly experienced a run of bad luck since the inauguration of the strike, which was to have brought their rivals down on their knees and secured for the Modern side a supremacy in Fellsgarth.The second Rendlesham match, the defection of Corder, the mutiny of the juniors, the disbanding of the clubs, the row with the head-master, and finally, the defeat of Brinkman by his own victim, might be held to be enough to chasten their spirits, and induce them to ask themselves whether the game was worth the candle.But, such is the infatuation of wrong-headedness, they still breathed vengeance on some one; and this time their victim was to be Rollitt.The grudge against him had been steadily accumulating during the term. His outrage on the gentle Dangle was yet to be atoned for. His crime of playing in the fifteen was yet unappeased. His contempt of the whole crew of his enemies was not to be pardoned. Even his rescue of the lost juniors told against him, for it had helped to turn the public feeling of the School in favour of those recalcitrant young rebels. So far there had been no getting at him. He would not quarrel. He would not even recognise the existence of any one he did not care for.But now a chance had come. The more they discussed it, the more morally certain was it that he was answerable for the disappearance of the money from the Club funds. The very reluctance of his own house to take action in the matter showed that they at least appreciated the gravity of the suspicion.It was a trump card for the Moderns. By pushing it now, they would be doing a service to the School. They would pose as the champions of honesty. They would be mortifying the Classics, even while they pretended to assist them; and, above all, they would wipe out scores with Rollitt himself, in a way he could not well disregard.Clapperton and Dangle were not superlatively clever boys; but, whether by chance or design, they certainly hit upon an admirable method for bringing the matter to a crisis.Dangle took upon himself to confide his suspicions, as a dead and terrible secret, to Wilcox, a middle-boy of Forder’s house, and notorious as the most prolific gossip in Fellsgarth; who, moreover, was known to have several talking acquaintances in the other houses.Wilcox received Dangle’s communication with astonishment and—oh, of course, he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to any one, not for the world; it was a bad business, but it was Fisher major’s business to see it put right, and so on.That night as Wilcox and his friend Underwood were retiring to rest, the former confided to the latter, under the deadliest pledge of secrecy, that there was a scandal going on about the School accounts. He mightn’t say more except that the fellow suspected was one of the last he himself should have dreamt of, although others might be less surprised.That was not all. Next morning he sat next to Calder, a Classic boy, in Hall, and asked him if he could keep a secret. Oh yes, Calder could keep any amount of secrets. Then Wilcox told him the same story that he had confided to Underwood, only adding that the amount in question was said to be several pounds.Calder hazarded the names of several boys; but Wilcox shrugged his shoulders at them all.“You’d better not ask me,” he said; “it will only get out and make trouble.”“Oh! but I promise I wouldn’t tell a soul,” said Calder.“I can’t tell you, though. But I’ll tell you this. You’d never guess the fellow had had as much in his pocket all his life.”“What—do you mean Rollitt?”“I can’t tell you, I say. I’m not at liberty to mention names.”The rumour thus admirably started went on merrily.Before nightfall it was known in half a dozen Modern studies that the Club funds had been robbed of £10 or £12 by a Classic boy, and that he was being shielded by his own seniors. On the Classic side four or five fellows whispered to one another that Rollitt had been caught in the act of stealing money out of Fisher major’s rooms a day or two ago.Presently, one enterprising gossip sent the story of Widow Wisdom’s boat rolling in and out with the rumour of the stolen money. Encouraged by that, some one else hinted that there had been deficiencies last term as well as this; and in and out with the new story was started the report that last term Rollitt had set up with a fishing-tackle and book of flies worth ever so much.A couple of days later the number of boys in the secret had multiplied fast, and Rollitt, as he walked across the Green to Hall or class, was watched and pointed out mysteriously by a score or more of curious boys.Of course the story grew to all sorts of curious shapes. Percy (who was the first of the invalided juniors to appear in his usual haunts) had it from Rix, who had had it from Banks, who had had it from Underwood, who had had it from Wilcox, who had had it from Dangle, who had been present on the occasion, that Rollitt had met the head-master in a lane near Widow Wisdom’s, and holding a pistol at his head had made him turn out all his pockets, and relieved him of fifty pounds.Percy said he didn’t believe it.Whereupon Rix reduced the amount to thirty pounds.Percy still could not accept the story.Whereat Rix, anxious to meet his friend as far as possible, substituted a walking-stick for the pistol.Still Percy’s gullet could not swallow even what was left.Whereupon Rix suggested that it was open to doubt whether it was the doctor who was robbed or Fisher major. Itmighthave been the latter.Still Percy looked sceptical.Which called forth an explanation that Rix did not mean to say that Dangle actually witnessed the occurrence; but that he knew it for a fact all the same.Percy shook his head still.And Rix, feeling much injured, laid the scene of the outrage in Fisher’s study, and conceded that the money might belong to the clubs, and might be only five pounds.Percy had the temerity once more to express doubt. Whereupon Rix flatly declined to come down another penny in the amount, or alter his story one iota, with one possible exception; that the money may have been taken when Fisher major was not in his room.Percy considered the anecdote had been boiled down sufficiently for human consumption, and grieved Rix prodigiously by saying that he knew all about it weeks ago, and what did he mean by coming and telling him his wretched second-hand stories?However, whatever variations the rumour underwent as it passed from hand to hand, it managed to retain its three most salient points all through—namely, that Fisher major had been robbed; that the money taken belonged to the club; and that the suspected thief was Rollitt.For a week or two Rollitt remained profoundly ignorant of the charges against him. His unapproachable attitude was the despair both of friend and enemy. Yorke, who would have given anything to let him have an opportunity of denying or explaining the charge, was at his wits’ end how to get at him. Dangle, on the contrary, who was chiefly interested in the penalties in store for the thief, was equally at a loss how to bring him to bay.He would see no one. He shut himself in his study and fastened the door. In class and Hall he was practically deaf and dumb; and in his solitary walks by the river it was as much as any one’s comfort for the whole term was worth to accost him.By one of those strange coincidences which often bring the most unlikely persons into sympathy, Yorke and Dangle each decided to write what they hesitated to say.Yorke had endless difficulty over his letter. He could not bring himself to believe Rollitt a thief, yet he could not deny that suspicions existed. Still less could he evade his duty as captain to see things right. The latter duty he might have put off on Mr Wakefield or the doctor. But the mere reporting to them of the circumstances would fix the suspicions on Rollitt more pointedly than they were already, and certainly more pointedly than Yorke wished them to be.“Dear Rollitt,” he wrote, “I hope you will not resent my writing to tell you of a rumour which is afloat very injurious to you, and one which I feel quite sure you can dispose of at once. I would not write about it, only I am very anxious for the sake of everybody you should deny it, and so shut up others who would be glad enough if it were true. A sum of money, about £4 10 shillings, belonging to the Club funds has been lost from Fisher major’s room. The rumour is that you have taken it, and those who accuse you make much of the coincidence that about the time when the money was said to be lost, you spent a similar sum in the purchase of a new boat for Widow Wisdom. If I didn’t feel quite sure you would be able to deny the charge and explain anything about it that seems suspicious, I should not have cared to write this.“Yours truly,—“C. Yorke.”Dangle’s letter was less ingenuous.“The secretary of the Fellsgarth clubs has been requested to ask Rollitt the following questions in reference to a sum of about £4 10 shillings missing from the funds in the treasurer’s hands.“1. Is it true that Rollitt was seen at the door of Fisher major’s room on Saturday afternoon, September 21, at a time when everybody else was absent from the house?“2. Is it true that immediately afterwards Rollitt paid five pounds for a new boat for Widow Wisdom?“3. Where did that money come from?“4. Does Rollitt know that he is suspected by every boy in Fellsgarth of having stolen it; and that now that the clubs are dissolved the treasurer will be called upon to refund the money?“5. What is Rollitt going to do? Does he deny it? If not, will he take the consequences?“Signed for the Club Committee,—“T. Dangle, Sec.”Fisher minor, the only boy to whom a missive to the School hermit might safely be entrusted, was on his way to Rollitt’s study with the captain’s note in his hand, when he was met on the stairs by Cash.“What cheer, kid?” said the latter. “Where are you off to?”“Taking a letter to Rollitt,” said Fisher minor.“That’s just what I am, from Dangle. I say, you may as well give him the two. No answer. Ta-ta.” And he thrust his missive into Fisher’s hands.It was just as easy to hand Rollitt two letters as one. So Fisher proceeded on his errand.Rollitt was writing a letter, which he hurriedly put aside when the messenger entered.“Get out!” he said, looking up. But when he saw who the intruder was his tone relaxed a little.“Fisher minor? Better?”“Yes, thanks. I had a cold, but that was all. I say, Rollitt, you were an awful brick helping us down that night.”“Nonsense!” said Rollitt, pulling out his paper and going on writing.“Here are two letters for you,” said the boy.Rollitt motioned him gruffly to lay them down on the table and depart—which he did gladly.Rollitt went on writing. It may be no breach of confidence if we allow the reader to glance over his shoulder.“Dear Mother,—You ask me if I am happy, and how I like school. I am not happy, and I hate Fellsgarth. Nobody cares about me. It’s no use my trying to be what I am not. I am not a gentleman, and I hope I never shall be, if the fellows here are specimens. Just because I’m poor they have nothing to do with me. I don’t complain of that. I prefer it. I’d much sooner be working for my living like father than wasting my time at a place like this. If those ladies would give the money they spend on keeping me here to you and father it would do much more good. There is only one boy I care about here, and he is a little fellow who was kind to me of his own accord, and doesn’t fight shy of me because I’ve no money and live on charity. I would ever so much rather come and live at home at the end of this term. It would be even worse at Oxford than it is here; and the ladies, if they want to be kind, will let me leave. I know you and father want me to become a grand gentleman. I would a hundred times rather be what I really am, and live at home with you.“Your loving son,—“Alfred.”This dismal letter concluded, the writer produced his books and began work, heedless of the two letters on his table, which lay all day where Fisher minor had deposited them.He went in and out to class, and those who watched him saw no signs of trouble in his demeanour. In the afternoon he stole up to the river with his rod; and any one who had seen him land his three-pounder, and leave it, as he left all his fish, at Widow Wisdom’s cottage, would have been puzzled by his indifferent air.That evening, as he was about to go to bed, he discovered the letters.Dangle’s letter, which he opened first, he scarcely seemed to heed. The sight of the name at foot was sufficient. He crumpled it up and tossed it in the corner.But Yorke’s aroused him. He read it through once or twice, and his face grew grim as he did so. Presently he went to the corner and picked up Dangle’s letter and once more read it. Then he crumpled up both together, and instead of going to bed sat in his chair and looked at the wall straight in front of him.The next day those who watched him saw him go into school and out as usual, except that he seemed less listless and more observant. He glanced aside now and then at the groups of boys who stood and looked after him, and his face had a cloud on it which was almost thunderous.“Did you give my letter to Rollitt?” said Yorke to Fisher minor.“Yes, yesterday; and one from Dangle too,” said the junior.“Dangle!” said the captain to himself; “he’ll think we are in collusion. Why ever didn’t I leave it alone?”He felt thus still more when later on in the day Dangle came over.“I hear you have written to Rollitt for an explanation. It was about time. What does he reply?”Yorke’s back went up at the dictatorial tone of the inquiry.“If there is anything to tell you, you will hear,” said he.“That means he hasn’t replied, I suppose. I have taken care that he shall reply. I have told Forder all about it.”“You’ve told Forder? You cad!” exclaimed Yorke, in a tone which made Dangle thankful he was near the door.“Yes,” snarled he. “It may be your interest to shield a thief, but it’s not in the interest of Fellsgarth. You won’t take the matter up; Forder will. I’ve told him you know about it, and will give him all the particulars. Hope you’ll enjoy it.”And he disappeared, only just in time for his own comfort.Yorke’s rage was unbounded. Of all the masters, Mr Forder was the one he would least have chosen to take up an affair of this kind. He was harsh, unsympathetic, hasty. And of all persons to prime the master in the circumstances of the case, Dangle was the least to be trusted.His temptation was to go at once to Rollitt, and force the matter to a conclusion before Mr Forder had time to interfere. Things were going from bad to worse. Would they never come right again?Next morning, before he could decide what to do, a message came from Mr Forder, requesting him and his fellow-prefects to come across to the master’s room.In no amiable frame of mind they obeyed. As they expected, Clapperton, Brinkman, Dangle, and Fullerton were also present.“This is a most serious case,” said Mr Forder. “Yorke, I understand you know more about it than any one. Will you kindly say all you know?”“I know nothing,” said the captain, “except that I believe the story is groundless.”“That is unsatisfactory. In a matter like this, there must be nothing like sheltering the wrong-doer.”“It’s because we were afraid of that, sir,” said Clapperton, “that we thought it right to tell you about it.”“Of course. Fisher major, perhaps you will tell us about the missing money.”Fisher major briefly related his loss and the efforts he had made to discover it.“And what are your grounds for suspecting Rollitt?”“I don’t suspect him, sir; or rather I should not if it were not for what Dangle has said about him.”Thereupon Dangle was called upon to repeat his accusation.“It seems to me,” said the master, “we require two important witnesses to make the case clear. I believe Mrs Wisdom is in the house at present. Will you inquire, Fullerton, and if so, tell her to come here? And will you, Fisher major, fetch your brother?”After a painful delay, in which the rival seniors sat glaring at one another, and the master made notes of the evidence so far, the two witnesses were forthcoming.Widow Wisdom had nothing to say except in praise of Master Rollitt, and was glad enough in support of it to relate the incident of the boat, and even produce the receipt, which she carried about like a talisman in her pocket. She had no idea that her glowing testimony was to be used against her favourite, or she would have bitten off her tongue sooner than give it:As for Fisher minor, confused and abashed in the presence of so many seniors, he blundered out his story of the eventful half-holiday, looking in vain towards his brother to ascertain if he was doing well or ill. He blabbed all he knew about Rollitt; the condition of his study, the nature of his solitary walks, the poverty of his possessions—everything that could possibly confirm the suspicions against him; and forgot to mention anything which might in the least avail on the other side.At the close of the court-martial Mr Forder summed up.“I am afraid it is a very clear case,” said he. “It is very painful to think that a Fellsgarth boy should come to such a pass. The matter must be reported to the head-master. But before doing so it would be fair to see Rollitt, and hear what he has to say. We have no right to condemn any one unheard. If he is innocent, it will be easy for him to prove it. Fisher major, will you tell him to come?”Fisher major reluctantly obeyed. It was nearly half an hour before he returned, and then he came alone.“I cannot find Rollitt, sir. He is not in the house. He was absent from morning call-over. And the house-keeper says he was not in his room this morning, and that his bed was not slept in last night.”

The Modern seniors had certainly experienced a run of bad luck since the inauguration of the strike, which was to have brought their rivals down on their knees and secured for the Modern side a supremacy in Fellsgarth.

The second Rendlesham match, the defection of Corder, the mutiny of the juniors, the disbanding of the clubs, the row with the head-master, and finally, the defeat of Brinkman by his own victim, might be held to be enough to chasten their spirits, and induce them to ask themselves whether the game was worth the candle.

But, such is the infatuation of wrong-headedness, they still breathed vengeance on some one; and this time their victim was to be Rollitt.

The grudge against him had been steadily accumulating during the term. His outrage on the gentle Dangle was yet to be atoned for. His crime of playing in the fifteen was yet unappeased. His contempt of the whole crew of his enemies was not to be pardoned. Even his rescue of the lost juniors told against him, for it had helped to turn the public feeling of the School in favour of those recalcitrant young rebels. So far there had been no getting at him. He would not quarrel. He would not even recognise the existence of any one he did not care for.

But now a chance had come. The more they discussed it, the more morally certain was it that he was answerable for the disappearance of the money from the Club funds. The very reluctance of his own house to take action in the matter showed that they at least appreciated the gravity of the suspicion.

It was a trump card for the Moderns. By pushing it now, they would be doing a service to the School. They would pose as the champions of honesty. They would be mortifying the Classics, even while they pretended to assist them; and, above all, they would wipe out scores with Rollitt himself, in a way he could not well disregard.

Clapperton and Dangle were not superlatively clever boys; but, whether by chance or design, they certainly hit upon an admirable method for bringing the matter to a crisis.

Dangle took upon himself to confide his suspicions, as a dead and terrible secret, to Wilcox, a middle-boy of Forder’s house, and notorious as the most prolific gossip in Fellsgarth; who, moreover, was known to have several talking acquaintances in the other houses.

Wilcox received Dangle’s communication with astonishment and—oh, of course, he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to any one, not for the world; it was a bad business, but it was Fisher major’s business to see it put right, and so on.

That night as Wilcox and his friend Underwood were retiring to rest, the former confided to the latter, under the deadliest pledge of secrecy, that there was a scandal going on about the School accounts. He mightn’t say more except that the fellow suspected was one of the last he himself should have dreamt of, although others might be less surprised.

That was not all. Next morning he sat next to Calder, a Classic boy, in Hall, and asked him if he could keep a secret. Oh yes, Calder could keep any amount of secrets. Then Wilcox told him the same story that he had confided to Underwood, only adding that the amount in question was said to be several pounds.

Calder hazarded the names of several boys; but Wilcox shrugged his shoulders at them all.

“You’d better not ask me,” he said; “it will only get out and make trouble.”

“Oh! but I promise I wouldn’t tell a soul,” said Calder.

“I can’t tell you, though. But I’ll tell you this. You’d never guess the fellow had had as much in his pocket all his life.”

“What—do you mean Rollitt?”

“I can’t tell you, I say. I’m not at liberty to mention names.”

The rumour thus admirably started went on merrily.

Before nightfall it was known in half a dozen Modern studies that the Club funds had been robbed of £10 or £12 by a Classic boy, and that he was being shielded by his own seniors. On the Classic side four or five fellows whispered to one another that Rollitt had been caught in the act of stealing money out of Fisher major’s rooms a day or two ago.

Presently, one enterprising gossip sent the story of Widow Wisdom’s boat rolling in and out with the rumour of the stolen money. Encouraged by that, some one else hinted that there had been deficiencies last term as well as this; and in and out with the new story was started the report that last term Rollitt had set up with a fishing-tackle and book of flies worth ever so much.

A couple of days later the number of boys in the secret had multiplied fast, and Rollitt, as he walked across the Green to Hall or class, was watched and pointed out mysteriously by a score or more of curious boys.

Of course the story grew to all sorts of curious shapes. Percy (who was the first of the invalided juniors to appear in his usual haunts) had it from Rix, who had had it from Banks, who had had it from Underwood, who had had it from Wilcox, who had had it from Dangle, who had been present on the occasion, that Rollitt had met the head-master in a lane near Widow Wisdom’s, and holding a pistol at his head had made him turn out all his pockets, and relieved him of fifty pounds.

Percy said he didn’t believe it.

Whereupon Rix reduced the amount to thirty pounds.

Percy still could not accept the story.

Whereat Rix, anxious to meet his friend as far as possible, substituted a walking-stick for the pistol.

Still Percy’s gullet could not swallow even what was left.

Whereupon Rix suggested that it was open to doubt whether it was the doctor who was robbed or Fisher major. Itmighthave been the latter.

Still Percy looked sceptical.

Which called forth an explanation that Rix did not mean to say that Dangle actually witnessed the occurrence; but that he knew it for a fact all the same.

Percy shook his head still.

And Rix, feeling much injured, laid the scene of the outrage in Fisher’s study, and conceded that the money might belong to the clubs, and might be only five pounds.

Percy had the temerity once more to express doubt. Whereupon Rix flatly declined to come down another penny in the amount, or alter his story one iota, with one possible exception; that the money may have been taken when Fisher major was not in his room.

Percy considered the anecdote had been boiled down sufficiently for human consumption, and grieved Rix prodigiously by saying that he knew all about it weeks ago, and what did he mean by coming and telling him his wretched second-hand stories?

However, whatever variations the rumour underwent as it passed from hand to hand, it managed to retain its three most salient points all through—namely, that Fisher major had been robbed; that the money taken belonged to the club; and that the suspected thief was Rollitt.

For a week or two Rollitt remained profoundly ignorant of the charges against him. His unapproachable attitude was the despair both of friend and enemy. Yorke, who would have given anything to let him have an opportunity of denying or explaining the charge, was at his wits’ end how to get at him. Dangle, on the contrary, who was chiefly interested in the penalties in store for the thief, was equally at a loss how to bring him to bay.

He would see no one. He shut himself in his study and fastened the door. In class and Hall he was practically deaf and dumb; and in his solitary walks by the river it was as much as any one’s comfort for the whole term was worth to accost him.

By one of those strange coincidences which often bring the most unlikely persons into sympathy, Yorke and Dangle each decided to write what they hesitated to say.

Yorke had endless difficulty over his letter. He could not bring himself to believe Rollitt a thief, yet he could not deny that suspicions existed. Still less could he evade his duty as captain to see things right. The latter duty he might have put off on Mr Wakefield or the doctor. But the mere reporting to them of the circumstances would fix the suspicions on Rollitt more pointedly than they were already, and certainly more pointedly than Yorke wished them to be.

“Dear Rollitt,” he wrote, “I hope you will not resent my writing to tell you of a rumour which is afloat very injurious to you, and one which I feel quite sure you can dispose of at once. I would not write about it, only I am very anxious for the sake of everybody you should deny it, and so shut up others who would be glad enough if it were true. A sum of money, about £4 10 shillings, belonging to the Club funds has been lost from Fisher major’s room. The rumour is that you have taken it, and those who accuse you make much of the coincidence that about the time when the money was said to be lost, you spent a similar sum in the purchase of a new boat for Widow Wisdom. If I didn’t feel quite sure you would be able to deny the charge and explain anything about it that seems suspicious, I should not have cared to write this.

“Yours truly,—

“C. Yorke.”

Dangle’s letter was less ingenuous.

“The secretary of the Fellsgarth clubs has been requested to ask Rollitt the following questions in reference to a sum of about £4 10 shillings missing from the funds in the treasurer’s hands.

“1. Is it true that Rollitt was seen at the door of Fisher major’s room on Saturday afternoon, September 21, at a time when everybody else was absent from the house?

“2. Is it true that immediately afterwards Rollitt paid five pounds for a new boat for Widow Wisdom?

“3. Where did that money come from?

“4. Does Rollitt know that he is suspected by every boy in Fellsgarth of having stolen it; and that now that the clubs are dissolved the treasurer will be called upon to refund the money?

“5. What is Rollitt going to do? Does he deny it? If not, will he take the consequences?

“Signed for the Club Committee,—

“T. Dangle, Sec.”

Fisher minor, the only boy to whom a missive to the School hermit might safely be entrusted, was on his way to Rollitt’s study with the captain’s note in his hand, when he was met on the stairs by Cash.

“What cheer, kid?” said the latter. “Where are you off to?”

“Taking a letter to Rollitt,” said Fisher minor.

“That’s just what I am, from Dangle. I say, you may as well give him the two. No answer. Ta-ta.” And he thrust his missive into Fisher’s hands.

It was just as easy to hand Rollitt two letters as one. So Fisher proceeded on his errand.

Rollitt was writing a letter, which he hurriedly put aside when the messenger entered.

“Get out!” he said, looking up. But when he saw who the intruder was his tone relaxed a little.

“Fisher minor? Better?”

“Yes, thanks. I had a cold, but that was all. I say, Rollitt, you were an awful brick helping us down that night.”

“Nonsense!” said Rollitt, pulling out his paper and going on writing.

“Here are two letters for you,” said the boy.

Rollitt motioned him gruffly to lay them down on the table and depart—which he did gladly.

Rollitt went on writing. It may be no breach of confidence if we allow the reader to glance over his shoulder.

“Dear Mother,—You ask me if I am happy, and how I like school. I am not happy, and I hate Fellsgarth. Nobody cares about me. It’s no use my trying to be what I am not. I am not a gentleman, and I hope I never shall be, if the fellows here are specimens. Just because I’m poor they have nothing to do with me. I don’t complain of that. I prefer it. I’d much sooner be working for my living like father than wasting my time at a place like this. If those ladies would give the money they spend on keeping me here to you and father it would do much more good. There is only one boy I care about here, and he is a little fellow who was kind to me of his own accord, and doesn’t fight shy of me because I’ve no money and live on charity. I would ever so much rather come and live at home at the end of this term. It would be even worse at Oxford than it is here; and the ladies, if they want to be kind, will let me leave. I know you and father want me to become a grand gentleman. I would a hundred times rather be what I really am, and live at home with you.

“Your loving son,—

“Alfred.”

This dismal letter concluded, the writer produced his books and began work, heedless of the two letters on his table, which lay all day where Fisher minor had deposited them.

He went in and out to class, and those who watched him saw no signs of trouble in his demeanour. In the afternoon he stole up to the river with his rod; and any one who had seen him land his three-pounder, and leave it, as he left all his fish, at Widow Wisdom’s cottage, would have been puzzled by his indifferent air.

That evening, as he was about to go to bed, he discovered the letters.

Dangle’s letter, which he opened first, he scarcely seemed to heed. The sight of the name at foot was sufficient. He crumpled it up and tossed it in the corner.

But Yorke’s aroused him. He read it through once or twice, and his face grew grim as he did so. Presently he went to the corner and picked up Dangle’s letter and once more read it. Then he crumpled up both together, and instead of going to bed sat in his chair and looked at the wall straight in front of him.

The next day those who watched him saw him go into school and out as usual, except that he seemed less listless and more observant. He glanced aside now and then at the groups of boys who stood and looked after him, and his face had a cloud on it which was almost thunderous.

“Did you give my letter to Rollitt?” said Yorke to Fisher minor.

“Yes, yesterday; and one from Dangle too,” said the junior.

“Dangle!” said the captain to himself; “he’ll think we are in collusion. Why ever didn’t I leave it alone?”

He felt thus still more when later on in the day Dangle came over.

“I hear you have written to Rollitt for an explanation. It was about time. What does he reply?”

Yorke’s back went up at the dictatorial tone of the inquiry.

“If there is anything to tell you, you will hear,” said he.

“That means he hasn’t replied, I suppose. I have taken care that he shall reply. I have told Forder all about it.”

“You’ve told Forder? You cad!” exclaimed Yorke, in a tone which made Dangle thankful he was near the door.

“Yes,” snarled he. “It may be your interest to shield a thief, but it’s not in the interest of Fellsgarth. You won’t take the matter up; Forder will. I’ve told him you know about it, and will give him all the particulars. Hope you’ll enjoy it.”

And he disappeared, only just in time for his own comfort.

Yorke’s rage was unbounded. Of all the masters, Mr Forder was the one he would least have chosen to take up an affair of this kind. He was harsh, unsympathetic, hasty. And of all persons to prime the master in the circumstances of the case, Dangle was the least to be trusted.

His temptation was to go at once to Rollitt, and force the matter to a conclusion before Mr Forder had time to interfere. Things were going from bad to worse. Would they never come right again?

Next morning, before he could decide what to do, a message came from Mr Forder, requesting him and his fellow-prefects to come across to the master’s room.

In no amiable frame of mind they obeyed. As they expected, Clapperton, Brinkman, Dangle, and Fullerton were also present.

“This is a most serious case,” said Mr Forder. “Yorke, I understand you know more about it than any one. Will you kindly say all you know?”

“I know nothing,” said the captain, “except that I believe the story is groundless.”

“That is unsatisfactory. In a matter like this, there must be nothing like sheltering the wrong-doer.”

“It’s because we were afraid of that, sir,” said Clapperton, “that we thought it right to tell you about it.”

“Of course. Fisher major, perhaps you will tell us about the missing money.”

Fisher major briefly related his loss and the efforts he had made to discover it.

“And what are your grounds for suspecting Rollitt?”

“I don’t suspect him, sir; or rather I should not if it were not for what Dangle has said about him.”

Thereupon Dangle was called upon to repeat his accusation.

“It seems to me,” said the master, “we require two important witnesses to make the case clear. I believe Mrs Wisdom is in the house at present. Will you inquire, Fullerton, and if so, tell her to come here? And will you, Fisher major, fetch your brother?”

After a painful delay, in which the rival seniors sat glaring at one another, and the master made notes of the evidence so far, the two witnesses were forthcoming.

Widow Wisdom had nothing to say except in praise of Master Rollitt, and was glad enough in support of it to relate the incident of the boat, and even produce the receipt, which she carried about like a talisman in her pocket. She had no idea that her glowing testimony was to be used against her favourite, or she would have bitten off her tongue sooner than give it:

As for Fisher minor, confused and abashed in the presence of so many seniors, he blundered out his story of the eventful half-holiday, looking in vain towards his brother to ascertain if he was doing well or ill. He blabbed all he knew about Rollitt; the condition of his study, the nature of his solitary walks, the poverty of his possessions—everything that could possibly confirm the suspicions against him; and forgot to mention anything which might in the least avail on the other side.

At the close of the court-martial Mr Forder summed up.

“I am afraid it is a very clear case,” said he. “It is very painful to think that a Fellsgarth boy should come to such a pass. The matter must be reported to the head-master. But before doing so it would be fair to see Rollitt, and hear what he has to say. We have no right to condemn any one unheard. If he is innocent, it will be easy for him to prove it. Fisher major, will you tell him to come?”

Fisher major reluctantly obeyed. It was nearly half an hour before he returned, and then he came alone.

“I cannot find Rollitt, sir. He is not in the house. He was absent from morning call-over. And the house-keeper says he was not in his room this morning, and that his bed was not slept in last night.”

Chapter Twenty One.Bolted!However slowly the rumour of Rollitt’s dishonesty had spread through the School, the news of his disappearance spread like wildfire.Mr Forder’s desire to keep the matter from being talked about was eminently futile, for Wally and Percy Wheatfield both knew all about it five minutes after Fisher major had discovered the absence of the “suspect.”By everybody except a very few infatuated persons, such as Yorke and Fisher minor, Rollitt’s flight was taken as conclusive evidence of his guilt.“If he hadn’t done it, why shouldn’t he stay and face it?” asked Clapperton.“The wonder to me is,” sneered Dangle, “that he brazened it out as long as he did.”“Suppose you were in his shoes,” said Yorke, “suspected by every one, with the evidence black against you, and Dangle in charge of the prosecution, how would you like it?”“If I’m in charge of the prosecution,” said Dangle, colouring up, “it’s becauseyou, whose duty it was to see the matter put right, were doing all you could to shield the scoundrel.”“I did nothing because I didn’t believe him guilty, and I don’t yet,” said the captain hotly; “and if you call him scoundrel again in my hearing, I’ll knock you down.”“Keep your temper,” said Dangle, glad, all the same, that there were one or two fellows between him and the captain. “Youmay not care about the credit of Fellsgarth. We do.”“You!” retorted Yorke, with such withering contempt that Dangle half wished he had left the matter alone.“The thing is,” said Ranger, “what is to be done!”“Nothing,” said Yorke. “Forder has gone to tell the doctor all about it. They’ll take it into their own hands to hunt him down—perhaps with Dangle’s assistance. All we’ve got to do is—”Here Fullerton interrupted—”—is to say all the evil we can about a fellow who is down and can’t defend himself.”“What’s the matter with Fullerton?” said Clapperton, with a sneer; “surely he’s not become one of Rollitt’s champions?”“If it matters specially to you what I think,” said Fullerton, “I don’t believe a word of your precious story. First of all, Fisher major’s such a fool at accounts that it’s not at all certain the money is lost; secondly, Dangle is the accuser; thirdly, Rollitt is the accused; fourthly, because if a similar charge were made against me, I should certainly disappear.”“Ha, ha!” snarled Brinkman, “they’ve got hold of poor Fullerton, have they? I wish them joy of him.”“Thanks very much,” said Fullerton; “I don’t intend to desert the dear Moderns. You will have a splendid chance of taking it out of me for daring to believe somebody innocent that you think guilty. I shall be happy to see any three of you, whenever you like, I can hit out as well as young Corder, so I hope Brinkman won’t come. But Dangle now, or even Clapperton, I shall be charmed to see. It’s really their duty as prefects to suppress any one who dares have an opinion of his own. I simply long to be suppressed!”This astounding revolt for the time being diverted attention from the topic of the hour. The laughter with which it was greeted by the Classics present did not tend to add to the comfort of Clapperton, Brinkman, and Dangle, who very shortly discovered that it was time to go to their own house.“Wait for me,” said Fullerton; “I’m coming too.”And, to their disgust, the rebel strolled along, with his hands in his pockets, in their company, whistling pleasantly to himself and absolutely ignoring their unfriendly attitude.Meanwhile the question, “Where is Rollitt?” continued to exercise Fellsgarth, from the head-master down to the junior fag. Bit by bit all that could be found out about his movements came to light. His study was visited by the masters. It disclosed the usual state of grime and confusion. His fishing-rod and tackle were there. There had been no attempt to pack his few belongings, which lay scattered about in dismal disorder. The photograph of the pleasant, homely-looking woman on the mantelpiece, with the inscription below, “Alfred, from Mother,” stood in its usual place. His Aristophanes lay open in the window-sill at the place for to-day’s lesson. Everything betokened an abrupt and hasty departure.Among the papers on his table was a fragment of some accounts recording the outlay of little more than a few pence a week since the beginning of the term.When inquiry came to be made, it was found that he was last seen after afternoon class yesterday, when he unexpectedly went to the School shop and purchased from the attendant there (who had been put in charge of that establishment during the indisposition of the managing directors) half a dozen Abernethy biscuits.The matron at Wakefield’s remembered that only a day or two ago a parcel had arrived for Rollitt—another unusual circumstance—containing a ham. Of this possession no sign was now to be found in his study.The inference from all these circumstances of course was, that however abruptly he had departed, he had not gone home, but somewhere where food would not be easy to procure in the ordinary way.Messengers were sent to Penchurch to acquaint the police and inquire at various places on the way for news of the missing boy. But no one had seen him “out of touch” for several days—since his last fishing expedition.His home address was of course on the School books, and thither a telegram was sent. But as the place was beyond the region of the wire, no reply came for a day, when in answer to the doctor’s inquiry if the wanderer had returned home, there came an abrupt “No.”Meanwhile the doctor had had another conference with the seniors of both houses, and inquired with every sign of dissatisfaction into the merits of the suspicions which were the apparent cause of Rollitt’s disappearance.To his demand why the matter was not reported to him, Yorke replied that as far as he and Fisher major were concerned they did not suspect Rollitt, and therefore had had nothing to report. The Modern seniors, on the other hand, put in the plea that they had looked to the Classics to take the matter up, and when they declined to do so, had reported the matter to Mr Forder.Then the doctor went into the particulars of Dangle’s feud with the missing boy, much to the embarrassment of the former.“He insulted you by turning you out of Mr Wakefield’s house, you say. Why were you there?”“I went to speak to some juniors.”“About what?”“Clapperton wanted them—”“No, I didn’t. You went—” interrupted Clapperton.“Silence, Clapperton. What were they wanted for, Dangle?”“They had cheated at Elections.”“What was your object, then?”“To punish them.”“Are you not aware that the captain of the School is the only prefect who is allowed to punish?”“Yes, sir, but—”“Well?”“We were not sure that their own prefects were going to take any notice of it.”“I caned all four of them for it, and you saw me do it,” said Yorke.“Humph. And as to Rollitt, how came he to be present?” asked the doctor.“He came in.”“What were you doing when he came in?”“There was a scuffle.”“You were striking those boys? What did Rollitt do? Did he strike you?”“No, sir.”“What then?”“He—he,” said Dangle, flushing up to be obliged to record the fact in the presence of the other seniors, “he dragged me across the Green.”“Then you say he attacked you on another occasion on the football field?”And Dangle had to stand an uncomfortable cross-examination on this incident too.“What had it all got to do with Rollitt?” asked every one of himself.“I ask you all these questions, Dangle,” said the doctor, when he had brought this chapter of history up to date, “because it seems to me you are Rollitt’s chief accuser in this matter. I wish I were able to feel that you were not personally interested in your charges proving to be true. That, of course, does not affect the case, as far as Rollitt is concerned. The evidence against him is merely conjecture, so far.”“But I met him at Fisher’s door that afternoon,” said Dangle, determined to make the most of his strong points.“Why,” said Fisher, “you told me you didn’t know which my door was, when you first spoke about it.”“I found out since, and it was the same door.”“Was he coming out of the room or going in!”“Coming out.”“You are sure of that?”“Yes, I remember because the door nearly struck me as he opened it.”“However could it do that!” exclaimed Fisher. “My door opens inwards!”Dangle coloured up with confusion and stammered—“I—I thought it—I suppose I was wrong.”“I think so,” said the doctor frigidly. “Thank you, boys, I needn’t keep you longer at present.”“You idiot!” said Clapperton, as he and the discomfited Dangle walked back to Forder’s. “You’ve made a precious mess of it, and made the whole house ridiculous. Why couldn’t you let it alone? You’ve mulled everything you’ve put your finger into this term.”“Look here, Clapperton,” said Dangle, in a white heat, “I’ve stood a lot from you this term—a jolly lot. I’ve done your dirty work, and—”“What do you mean? What dirty work have I asked you to do?”“Plenty that you’ve not had the pluck to do yourself.”“I dare you to repeat it, you liar!”“You shall do your own in future, I know that.”“Dangle, hold your tongue, you cad!”“I shall do nothing of the kind, you snob!”Whereupon ensued the most wonderful spectacle of the half, a fight between Clapperton and Dangle. It was nearly dark, and no one was about, and history does not record how it ended. But in Hall that night both appeared with visages suspiciously marred, and it was noted by many an observant eye that diplomatic relations between the two were suspended.But while old friends had thus been falling out on Rollitt’s account, old enemies had on the same grounds been making it up.The juniors having recovered of their colds, and finding themselves once more in the full possession of their appetite, their liberty, and their spirits, celebrated their convalescence by a generalmêléein Percy’s room, under the specious pretext of a committee meeting of the shop-directors. This business function being satisfactorily concluded, they turned their attention to the condition of things in general.That Fellsgarth should have got itself into a regular mess during their enforced retirement caused them no surprise. What else could any one expect?But that any one should dare to suspect and make things hot for a fellow without consultingthem, caused them both pain and astonishment. It quite slipped their memories that not long since some of them had been glad enough to listen to disparaging talk about the School hermit. That was a detail. On the whole they had stuck to him, and they meant to stick to him now!Many things were in his favour. He had won a goal for the School. He had dispensed with his right to a fag, and had let the juniors of all grades generally alone. He was on nodding terms with Fisher minor, one of their lot. He had come up Hawk’s Pike at much personal inconvenience to look for them. And he had been a customer to the extent of six Abernethys at the School shop.For all these reasons (which were quite apart from party considerations) it was decidednem. con. that Rollitt was a “good old sort” and must be stuck by.Whereupon the nine of them sallied out arm in arm across the Green, on the look-out for some one who might hold a contrary opinion.After some search they found a Modern middle-boy, who, catching sight of Fisher minor, shouted, “How now! Who nobbled the Club money?” which made Fisher minor suddenly detach himself from his company, and shouting, “That’s him!” start in pursuit. What a bull-dog it was getting, to be sure!The whole party joined in the hue-and-cry, and might have run the fugitive down, had not the head-master stalked across the Green at that moment on his way to Mr Wakefield’s.At sight of him they pulled up short, looked unutterably amiable, doffed their caps, and made as though they were merely out to take the air on this beautiful November afternoon.To Fisher minor the interruption was a sad one. That fellow was the borrower of his half-crown; for weeks he had lost sight of him. Now, suddenly, chance had seemed to bring both man and money within reach, when, alas! the Harpy swooped down and took off the prize from under his very nose.The doctor having passed, they continued their search for any one who had a bad word to say for Rollitt.But as it was nearly dark, and rain was falling, the craven maligners kept indoors, and would not be caught.So the juniors relieved themselves by giving three cheers for Rollitt under every window round the Green, and then fell to abusing Fisher minor because his brother, Fisher major, had lost the money which Rollitt was said to have stolen.“There’s no doubt that kid’s at the bottom of it,” said Percy. “First of all, he’s a Classic cad.”Here the speaker was obliged to pause, on a friendly admonition from the boot of his brother Wally.“He’s a Classic kid,” continued he.“You said cad.”“I said cad? do you hear that, you chaps? Thinks I don’t know how to spell.”“You said he was a Classic cad.”“There you are; you’ve said it now. Kick him, you chaps. How dare he say he’s a Classic cad?” said Percy.This verbal squabble being settled at last, Percy proceeded to explain Fisher minor’s position.“If he hadn’t come to Fellsgarth, Rollitt would have been smashed to bits over the falls. And if Rollitt had been smashed to bits—”“He couldn’t have bought six Abernethys at the shop,” suggested D’Arcy.“Right you are! And what’s more, he couldn’t have eaten them if he had, and he couldn’t have run away. There you are, I said this kid was at the bottom of it.”“But who’d have collared the money in that case?” asked Ashby.Percy reflected. This was a decided point.“Well, you see,” said he, “it’s this way. If young Fisher minor hadn’t been born, he wouldn’t have had a governor and a mater, and if he hadn’t had a governor and a mater, no more would Fisher major. And if Fisher major hadn’t had a governor and a mater he’d never have been elected treasurer, and if he’d not been elected treasurer he wouldn’t have lost the money. So you see the young un’s at the bottom of it again.”“I know a shorter way than that,” said D’Arcy. “If young Fisher minor hadn’t fetched Rollitt up to vote that day, Fisher major wouldn’t have been elected, and then he couldn’t have lost the money.”“Isn’t that what I said?” said Percy, indignant to be thus summarily paraphrased.“Are you going to lick me for being born?” inquired Fisher minor.“Good mind to. It’s all your fault good old Rollitt’s gone.”“Those six Abernethys won’t last him long,” suggested Cash.“No. We must keep a stock of them now, and call them ‘Rollitt’s particular.’ I fancy they might fetch three-halfpence each.”“I say,” said Wally, “I vote we find Rollitt. He’s not a bad sort, you know.”“All very well,” said Percy, “if one only knew where to look.”“It’s my notion he’s either gone home or to the top of Hawk’s Pike. I don’t well see where else he could be.”“London?” suggested Cottle.“Not got the money.”“Walked there?”“Not got the boots.”“He can’t be hanging about near here. Everybody knows him. No; you bet he’s gone to the top of Hawk’s Pike, and he’s going to stay there till the clouds roll by.”This brought up a painful reminiscence. None of the party, except Wally, exactly favoured the idea of another attempt on the great mountain.“Tell you what,” said Percy, “those biscuits will last him over to-night. We’ll see if there’s any news of him in the morning, and if not we’ll organise an expedition to find him. I say, let’s go and have another shop committee somewhere.”“Where?”“Suppose we have it in Rollitt’s study. He was a jolly good sort, you know. It would please him.”The logic of this proposition did not detain the meeting.They decided to go in the usual way. That is, the four Classic boys boldly marched into their house together, and the five Moderns dropped in one by one artlessly and quite by accident.As Fisher minor passed his brother’s door he thought he would just look in. At the same moment the house matron, with a very important face, was bounding into the room.“Master Fisher,” said she, “Mrs Wisdom’s just sent back that flannel shirt of yours.”“Oh! At last. She’s only had it six weeks. About long enough,” said Fisher major. “I’d given it up for lost.”“It got left at the bottom of the bag, and she never noticed it till last night. And what do you think, Master Fisher! there wasthisin the breast pocket.” And she handed him a little brown paper parcel.Fisher major snatched at it with an ejaculation more like horror than anything else, and tore the paper open.Four sovereigns and some silver dropped on to the table.“Why,” gasped he, “that’s it! I remember now. I got it on the field just before the Rendlesham match, and stuck it in that pocket, and it went clean out of my head. Oh, my word, whathaveI done? What an awful mess I’ve made!”Not even Fisher minor stayed to dispute this statement, but hurried off with the great news to the shop committee next door.

However slowly the rumour of Rollitt’s dishonesty had spread through the School, the news of his disappearance spread like wildfire.

Mr Forder’s desire to keep the matter from being talked about was eminently futile, for Wally and Percy Wheatfield both knew all about it five minutes after Fisher major had discovered the absence of the “suspect.”

By everybody except a very few infatuated persons, such as Yorke and Fisher minor, Rollitt’s flight was taken as conclusive evidence of his guilt.

“If he hadn’t done it, why shouldn’t he stay and face it?” asked Clapperton.

“The wonder to me is,” sneered Dangle, “that he brazened it out as long as he did.”

“Suppose you were in his shoes,” said Yorke, “suspected by every one, with the evidence black against you, and Dangle in charge of the prosecution, how would you like it?”

“If I’m in charge of the prosecution,” said Dangle, colouring up, “it’s becauseyou, whose duty it was to see the matter put right, were doing all you could to shield the scoundrel.”

“I did nothing because I didn’t believe him guilty, and I don’t yet,” said the captain hotly; “and if you call him scoundrel again in my hearing, I’ll knock you down.”

“Keep your temper,” said Dangle, glad, all the same, that there were one or two fellows between him and the captain. “Youmay not care about the credit of Fellsgarth. We do.”

“You!” retorted Yorke, with such withering contempt that Dangle half wished he had left the matter alone.

“The thing is,” said Ranger, “what is to be done!”

“Nothing,” said Yorke. “Forder has gone to tell the doctor all about it. They’ll take it into their own hands to hunt him down—perhaps with Dangle’s assistance. All we’ve got to do is—”

Here Fullerton interrupted—

”—is to say all the evil we can about a fellow who is down and can’t defend himself.”

“What’s the matter with Fullerton?” said Clapperton, with a sneer; “surely he’s not become one of Rollitt’s champions?”

“If it matters specially to you what I think,” said Fullerton, “I don’t believe a word of your precious story. First of all, Fisher major’s such a fool at accounts that it’s not at all certain the money is lost; secondly, Dangle is the accuser; thirdly, Rollitt is the accused; fourthly, because if a similar charge were made against me, I should certainly disappear.”

“Ha, ha!” snarled Brinkman, “they’ve got hold of poor Fullerton, have they? I wish them joy of him.”

“Thanks very much,” said Fullerton; “I don’t intend to desert the dear Moderns. You will have a splendid chance of taking it out of me for daring to believe somebody innocent that you think guilty. I shall be happy to see any three of you, whenever you like, I can hit out as well as young Corder, so I hope Brinkman won’t come. But Dangle now, or even Clapperton, I shall be charmed to see. It’s really their duty as prefects to suppress any one who dares have an opinion of his own. I simply long to be suppressed!”

This astounding revolt for the time being diverted attention from the topic of the hour. The laughter with which it was greeted by the Classics present did not tend to add to the comfort of Clapperton, Brinkman, and Dangle, who very shortly discovered that it was time to go to their own house.

“Wait for me,” said Fullerton; “I’m coming too.”

And, to their disgust, the rebel strolled along, with his hands in his pockets, in their company, whistling pleasantly to himself and absolutely ignoring their unfriendly attitude.

Meanwhile the question, “Where is Rollitt?” continued to exercise Fellsgarth, from the head-master down to the junior fag. Bit by bit all that could be found out about his movements came to light. His study was visited by the masters. It disclosed the usual state of grime and confusion. His fishing-rod and tackle were there. There had been no attempt to pack his few belongings, which lay scattered about in dismal disorder. The photograph of the pleasant, homely-looking woman on the mantelpiece, with the inscription below, “Alfred, from Mother,” stood in its usual place. His Aristophanes lay open in the window-sill at the place for to-day’s lesson. Everything betokened an abrupt and hasty departure.

Among the papers on his table was a fragment of some accounts recording the outlay of little more than a few pence a week since the beginning of the term.

When inquiry came to be made, it was found that he was last seen after afternoon class yesterday, when he unexpectedly went to the School shop and purchased from the attendant there (who had been put in charge of that establishment during the indisposition of the managing directors) half a dozen Abernethy biscuits.

The matron at Wakefield’s remembered that only a day or two ago a parcel had arrived for Rollitt—another unusual circumstance—containing a ham. Of this possession no sign was now to be found in his study.

The inference from all these circumstances of course was, that however abruptly he had departed, he had not gone home, but somewhere where food would not be easy to procure in the ordinary way.

Messengers were sent to Penchurch to acquaint the police and inquire at various places on the way for news of the missing boy. But no one had seen him “out of touch” for several days—since his last fishing expedition.

His home address was of course on the School books, and thither a telegram was sent. But as the place was beyond the region of the wire, no reply came for a day, when in answer to the doctor’s inquiry if the wanderer had returned home, there came an abrupt “No.”

Meanwhile the doctor had had another conference with the seniors of both houses, and inquired with every sign of dissatisfaction into the merits of the suspicions which were the apparent cause of Rollitt’s disappearance.

To his demand why the matter was not reported to him, Yorke replied that as far as he and Fisher major were concerned they did not suspect Rollitt, and therefore had had nothing to report. The Modern seniors, on the other hand, put in the plea that they had looked to the Classics to take the matter up, and when they declined to do so, had reported the matter to Mr Forder.

Then the doctor went into the particulars of Dangle’s feud with the missing boy, much to the embarrassment of the former.

“He insulted you by turning you out of Mr Wakefield’s house, you say. Why were you there?”

“I went to speak to some juniors.”

“About what?”

“Clapperton wanted them—”

“No, I didn’t. You went—” interrupted Clapperton.

“Silence, Clapperton. What were they wanted for, Dangle?”

“They had cheated at Elections.”

“What was your object, then?”

“To punish them.”

“Are you not aware that the captain of the School is the only prefect who is allowed to punish?”

“Yes, sir, but—”

“Well?”

“We were not sure that their own prefects were going to take any notice of it.”

“I caned all four of them for it, and you saw me do it,” said Yorke.

“Humph. And as to Rollitt, how came he to be present?” asked the doctor.

“He came in.”

“What were you doing when he came in?”

“There was a scuffle.”

“You were striking those boys? What did Rollitt do? Did he strike you?”

“No, sir.”

“What then?”

“He—he,” said Dangle, flushing up to be obliged to record the fact in the presence of the other seniors, “he dragged me across the Green.”

“Then you say he attacked you on another occasion on the football field?”

And Dangle had to stand an uncomfortable cross-examination on this incident too.

“What had it all got to do with Rollitt?” asked every one of himself.

“I ask you all these questions, Dangle,” said the doctor, when he had brought this chapter of history up to date, “because it seems to me you are Rollitt’s chief accuser in this matter. I wish I were able to feel that you were not personally interested in your charges proving to be true. That, of course, does not affect the case, as far as Rollitt is concerned. The evidence against him is merely conjecture, so far.”

“But I met him at Fisher’s door that afternoon,” said Dangle, determined to make the most of his strong points.

“Why,” said Fisher, “you told me you didn’t know which my door was, when you first spoke about it.”

“I found out since, and it was the same door.”

“Was he coming out of the room or going in!”

“Coming out.”

“You are sure of that?”

“Yes, I remember because the door nearly struck me as he opened it.”

“However could it do that!” exclaimed Fisher. “My door opens inwards!”

Dangle coloured up with confusion and stammered—

“I—I thought it—I suppose I was wrong.”

“I think so,” said the doctor frigidly. “Thank you, boys, I needn’t keep you longer at present.”

“You idiot!” said Clapperton, as he and the discomfited Dangle walked back to Forder’s. “You’ve made a precious mess of it, and made the whole house ridiculous. Why couldn’t you let it alone? You’ve mulled everything you’ve put your finger into this term.”

“Look here, Clapperton,” said Dangle, in a white heat, “I’ve stood a lot from you this term—a jolly lot. I’ve done your dirty work, and—”

“What do you mean? What dirty work have I asked you to do?”

“Plenty that you’ve not had the pluck to do yourself.”

“I dare you to repeat it, you liar!”

“You shall do your own in future, I know that.”

“Dangle, hold your tongue, you cad!”

“I shall do nothing of the kind, you snob!”

Whereupon ensued the most wonderful spectacle of the half, a fight between Clapperton and Dangle. It was nearly dark, and no one was about, and history does not record how it ended. But in Hall that night both appeared with visages suspiciously marred, and it was noted by many an observant eye that diplomatic relations between the two were suspended.

But while old friends had thus been falling out on Rollitt’s account, old enemies had on the same grounds been making it up.

The juniors having recovered of their colds, and finding themselves once more in the full possession of their appetite, their liberty, and their spirits, celebrated their convalescence by a generalmêléein Percy’s room, under the specious pretext of a committee meeting of the shop-directors. This business function being satisfactorily concluded, they turned their attention to the condition of things in general.

That Fellsgarth should have got itself into a regular mess during their enforced retirement caused them no surprise. What else could any one expect?

But that any one should dare to suspect and make things hot for a fellow without consultingthem, caused them both pain and astonishment. It quite slipped their memories that not long since some of them had been glad enough to listen to disparaging talk about the School hermit. That was a detail. On the whole they had stuck to him, and they meant to stick to him now!

Many things were in his favour. He had won a goal for the School. He had dispensed with his right to a fag, and had let the juniors of all grades generally alone. He was on nodding terms with Fisher minor, one of their lot. He had come up Hawk’s Pike at much personal inconvenience to look for them. And he had been a customer to the extent of six Abernethys at the School shop.

For all these reasons (which were quite apart from party considerations) it was decidednem. con. that Rollitt was a “good old sort” and must be stuck by.

Whereupon the nine of them sallied out arm in arm across the Green, on the look-out for some one who might hold a contrary opinion.

After some search they found a Modern middle-boy, who, catching sight of Fisher minor, shouted, “How now! Who nobbled the Club money?” which made Fisher minor suddenly detach himself from his company, and shouting, “That’s him!” start in pursuit. What a bull-dog it was getting, to be sure!

The whole party joined in the hue-and-cry, and might have run the fugitive down, had not the head-master stalked across the Green at that moment on his way to Mr Wakefield’s.

At sight of him they pulled up short, looked unutterably amiable, doffed their caps, and made as though they were merely out to take the air on this beautiful November afternoon.

To Fisher minor the interruption was a sad one. That fellow was the borrower of his half-crown; for weeks he had lost sight of him. Now, suddenly, chance had seemed to bring both man and money within reach, when, alas! the Harpy swooped down and took off the prize from under his very nose.

The doctor having passed, they continued their search for any one who had a bad word to say for Rollitt.

But as it was nearly dark, and rain was falling, the craven maligners kept indoors, and would not be caught.

So the juniors relieved themselves by giving three cheers for Rollitt under every window round the Green, and then fell to abusing Fisher minor because his brother, Fisher major, had lost the money which Rollitt was said to have stolen.

“There’s no doubt that kid’s at the bottom of it,” said Percy. “First of all, he’s a Classic cad.”

Here the speaker was obliged to pause, on a friendly admonition from the boot of his brother Wally.

“He’s a Classic kid,” continued he.

“You said cad.”

“I said cad? do you hear that, you chaps? Thinks I don’t know how to spell.”

“You said he was a Classic cad.”

“There you are; you’ve said it now. Kick him, you chaps. How dare he say he’s a Classic cad?” said Percy.

This verbal squabble being settled at last, Percy proceeded to explain Fisher minor’s position.

“If he hadn’t come to Fellsgarth, Rollitt would have been smashed to bits over the falls. And if Rollitt had been smashed to bits—”

“He couldn’t have bought six Abernethys at the shop,” suggested D’Arcy.

“Right you are! And what’s more, he couldn’t have eaten them if he had, and he couldn’t have run away. There you are, I said this kid was at the bottom of it.”

“But who’d have collared the money in that case?” asked Ashby.

Percy reflected. This was a decided point.

“Well, you see,” said he, “it’s this way. If young Fisher minor hadn’t been born, he wouldn’t have had a governor and a mater, and if he hadn’t had a governor and a mater, no more would Fisher major. And if Fisher major hadn’t had a governor and a mater he’d never have been elected treasurer, and if he’d not been elected treasurer he wouldn’t have lost the money. So you see the young un’s at the bottom of it again.”

“I know a shorter way than that,” said D’Arcy. “If young Fisher minor hadn’t fetched Rollitt up to vote that day, Fisher major wouldn’t have been elected, and then he couldn’t have lost the money.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” said Percy, indignant to be thus summarily paraphrased.

“Are you going to lick me for being born?” inquired Fisher minor.

“Good mind to. It’s all your fault good old Rollitt’s gone.”

“Those six Abernethys won’t last him long,” suggested Cash.

“No. We must keep a stock of them now, and call them ‘Rollitt’s particular.’ I fancy they might fetch three-halfpence each.”

“I say,” said Wally, “I vote we find Rollitt. He’s not a bad sort, you know.”

“All very well,” said Percy, “if one only knew where to look.”

“It’s my notion he’s either gone home or to the top of Hawk’s Pike. I don’t well see where else he could be.”

“London?” suggested Cottle.

“Not got the money.”

“Walked there?”

“Not got the boots.”

“He can’t be hanging about near here. Everybody knows him. No; you bet he’s gone to the top of Hawk’s Pike, and he’s going to stay there till the clouds roll by.”

This brought up a painful reminiscence. None of the party, except Wally, exactly favoured the idea of another attempt on the great mountain.

“Tell you what,” said Percy, “those biscuits will last him over to-night. We’ll see if there’s any news of him in the morning, and if not we’ll organise an expedition to find him. I say, let’s go and have another shop committee somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Suppose we have it in Rollitt’s study. He was a jolly good sort, you know. It would please him.”

The logic of this proposition did not detain the meeting.

They decided to go in the usual way. That is, the four Classic boys boldly marched into their house together, and the five Moderns dropped in one by one artlessly and quite by accident.

As Fisher minor passed his brother’s door he thought he would just look in. At the same moment the house matron, with a very important face, was bounding into the room.

“Master Fisher,” said she, “Mrs Wisdom’s just sent back that flannel shirt of yours.”

“Oh! At last. She’s only had it six weeks. About long enough,” said Fisher major. “I’d given it up for lost.”

“It got left at the bottom of the bag, and she never noticed it till last night. And what do you think, Master Fisher! there wasthisin the breast pocket.” And she handed him a little brown paper parcel.

Fisher major snatched at it with an ejaculation more like horror than anything else, and tore the paper open.

Four sovereigns and some silver dropped on to the table.

“Why,” gasped he, “that’s it! I remember now. I got it on the field just before the Rendlesham match, and stuck it in that pocket, and it went clean out of my head. Oh, my word, whathaveI done? What an awful mess I’ve made!”

Not even Fisher minor stayed to dispute this statement, but hurried off with the great news to the shop committee next door.

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