The first two or three weeks of a new boy's life at a big school are, as a rule, a dull and uneventful period, which does not furnish many incidents that are of sufficient interest to be worth recording.
The Triple Alliance passed through the principal entrance to Ronleigh College one afternoon towards the end of January, with no flourish of trumpets or beat of drums to announce the fact of their arrival to their one hundred and eighty odd schoolfellows. They were simply "new kids." But though, after the fame they had won at The Birches, it was rather humiliating at first to find themselves regarded as three nobodies, yet there was some compensation in the thought that, just as the smallest drummer-boy can point to a flag covered with "honours," and say "My regiment," so, in looking round at the many things of which Ronleians past and present had just reason to be proud, they could claim it as "our school," and feel that they themselves formed a part, however small and insignificant, of the institution.
The crowd of boys, and the maze of passages, rooms, and staircases, were very confusing after the quiet, old-fashioned house at Chatford; but though in this world there is no lack either of lame dogs or of stiles, there is also a good supply of kindly-disposed persons who are ever ready to help the former over the latter, and our three friends were fortunate enough to fall in with one of these philanthropic individuals soon after their arrival.
The stranger, who was a youngster of about their own age, with a pleasant, good-natured-looking face, patted Diggory on the back in a fatherly manner, and addressing the group said,—
"Well, my boys, we're a large family at Ronleigh, but fresh additions are always welcome. How did you leave them all at home? Quite well, I hope? Um, ah! Just so. That's what Dr. Denson always says," continued the speaker, without waiting for any reply to his numerous questions. "You'll have to go and see him after tea. My name's Carton; what's yours?"
The three comrades introduced themselves.
"What bedroom are you in?"
"Number 16."
"Then you're in the same one as I and young Hart. Come for a stroll, and I'll show you round the place."
With Carton acting as conductor, the party set out on a tour of inspection. It was some time before the new-comers could find their way about alone without turning down wrong passages, or encroaching on forbidden ground, and getting shouted at by irate seniors, and ordered to "Come out of that!" But by the time they had finished their round, and the clanging of a big bell summoned them to assemble in the dining-hall for tea, they had been able to form a general idea as to the geography of Ronleigh College, and a brief account of their discoveries will be of interest to the reader.
Passing through the central archway in the block of buildings which faced the road, the boys found themselves in a large gravelled quadrangle surrounded on all sides by high walls, broken by what appeared at first sight to be an almost countless number of windows, while the red brick was relieved in many places by a thick growth of ivy.
"That's the gymnasium on the left," said Carton, "and above it are studies; and that row of big windows on the right, with the coloured glass in the top, is the big schoolroom."
Crossing the gravel they passed through another archway, in which were two folding-doors, and emerged upon an open space covered with asphalt, upon which stood a giant-stride and two double fives-courts.
This formed but a small corner of a large level field, in which a number of boys were to be seen wandering about arm in arm, or standing chatting together in small groups, pausing every now and then in their conversation to give chase to a football which was being kicked about in an aimless fashion by a number of their more energetic companions.
"The goal-posts aren't up yet," said Carton, "and this is only what's called the junior field; the one beyond is where the big fellows play. The pavilion is over the hedge there, with the flagstaff by the side of it. That's the match ground, and there's room for another game besides."
"Where do all the fellows go when they aren't out of doors?" askedDiggory.
"Well, the Sixth all have studies; then comes Remove, and those chaps have a room to themselves; all the rest have desks in the big school, and you hang about there, though of course, if you like, there's the gymnasium, or the box-room—that's where a lot of fellows spend most of their time."
"What sort of a place is that?"
"Oh, it's where the play-boxes are kept. Come along; we'll go there next."
They passed once more through the double doors, and were crossing the quadrangle, when a certain incident attracted their notice, unimportant in itself, but indicating a strong contrast in the manner of life at Ronleigh to what they had always been accustomed to at The Birches. A youngster was tearing up a piece of paper and scattering the fragments about on the gravel.
"Hi, you there!" cried a voice; "pick that up. What d'you mean by making that mess here?"
The small boy grabbed up the bits of paper, stuffed them in his pocket, and hurried away towards the schoolroom.
"Is that one of the masters?" asked Mugford.
"No," answered Carton, "that's Oaks; he's one of the prefects.Don't you see he's got a blue tassel to his mortar-board?"
"But what's a prefect?"
"Whew!" laughed the other, "you'll soon find out if you play the fool, and don't mind what you're about. Why, there are fourteen of them, all fellows in the Sixth, and they keep order and give you lines, and all that sort of thing."
"Why, I thought it was only masters did that," said Jack Vance.
"Well, you'll find the prefects do it here," answered Carton; "and when they tell you to do a thing, I'd advise you to look alive and do it, for they don't reckon to speak twice."
The evening passed quickly enough. After tea came an interview with the head-master in his study, and then what was perhaps a still more trying ordeal—a long spell of sitting in the big schoolroom answering an incessant fire of questions such as, "What's your name?"—"Where d'you come from?" etc., etc.
At length the signal was given for passing on to bed, and the TripleAlliance were not sorry to gain the shelter of No. 16 dormitory.
The room contained seven other beds besides their own, two of which were as yet still vacant, waiting the arrival of boys who had not turned up on the first day. The remainder were occupied by a couple of other new-comers, and three oldsters, Carton, Hart, and Bayley.
It was very different from the cosy little bedrooms at The Birches; but the three friends were glad to be allowed to undress in peace and quiet, and had scrambled safely into bed some time before the prefect put in an appearance to turn out the light.
"I tell you what," said Hart, a few moments later: "you new kids may think yourselves lucky that you're in a quiet room for a start. I know when I came first there used to be christenings and all kinds of humbug."
"What was that?" asked Diggory.
"Why, fellows used always to christen you with a nickname: they stuck your head in a basin and poured water over you, and if you struggled you got it all down your back."
"Yes," continued Carton, "and they hid your clothes, and had bull-fights and all sorts of foolery. That was inNineteen: old 'Thirsty' was the prefect for that passage, and he doesn't care tu'pence what fellows do. But Allingford's put a stop to almost all that kind of thing: he's captain of the school, and he's always awfully down on anything of that sort."
By the time breakfast was over on the following morning, Diggory and his two companions were beginning to recover a little from their first state of bewilderment amid their strange surroundings. They donned the school cap of black flannel, with the crest worked in silk upon the front, and went out to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine in the playground.
It was a bright, frosty day, and the whole place seemed full of life and activity. There was plenty to engage their attention, and much that was new and singular after their comparatively quiet playground at The Birches. But whatever there was to awaken their interest out of doors, a thing was destined to happen during their first morning school which would be a still greater surprise than anything they had yet encountered during their short residence at Ronleigh.
At nine o'clock the clanging of the big bell summoned them to the general assembly in the big schoolroom. They took their places at a back desk pointed out to them by the master on duty, and sat watching the stream of boys that poured in through the open doors, wondering how long it would take them to become acquainted with the names of such a multitude.
The forms passed on in their usual order, and the new boys were conducted to a vacant classroom, where they received a set of examination papers which were intended to test the amount of their knowledge, and determine the position in which they were to start work on the following day.
Jack Vance, Diggory, and Mugford sat together at the first desk, just in front of the master's table, and were soon busy in proving their previous acquaintance with the Latin grammar. Presently the door opened, and a voice, which they at once recognized as Dr. Denson's, said, "Mr. Ellesby, may I trouble you to step here for a moment?" None of the trio raised their eyes from their work. There was a muttered conversation in the passage, and then the door was once more closed.
The master returned to his desk, dipped his pen in the ink, and addressing some one at the back of the room, inquired,—
"What did Dr. Denson say your name was?"
"Noaks, sir."
The Triple Alliance gave a simultaneous start as though they had received an electric shock, and their heads turned round like three weathercocks.
There, sure enough, at the back desk of all, sat the late leader of the Philistines, with a rather sheepish expression on his face, somewhat similar to the one it had worn when the marauders from Horace House had been ushered into Mr. Welsby's study.
Jack Vance looked at Mugford, and Mugford looked at Diggory. "Well, I'm jiggered!" whispered the latter, and once more returned to his examination paper.
At eleven o'clock there was a quarter of an hour's interval. Being still, as it were, strangers in a strange land, the three friends kept pretty close together. They were walking arm in arm about the quadrangle, giving expression to their astonishment at this latest arrival at Ronleigh, when Diggory suddenly exclaimed, "Look out! here he comes!"
After so many encounters of a decidedly hostile nature, it was difficult to meet their old enemy on neutral ground without some feeling of embarrassment. Young Noaks, however, walked up cool as a cucumber, and holding out his hand said,—
"Hullo, you fellows, who'd have thought of seeing you here! How are you?"
The three boys returned the salutation in a manner which, to say the least, was not very cordial, and made some attempt to pass on their way; but the new-comer refused to see that he was not wanted, and insisted on taking Mugford's arm and accompanying them on their stroll.
"I say," he continued, addressing Jack Vance, "were you at Todderton these holidays? I don't think I saw you once."
"The last time I saw you," returned Jack, in rather a bitter tone, "was when you came to spoil our fireworks, and we collared you in the shed."
Noaks clinched his fist, and for a moment his brow darkened; the next instant, however, he laughed as though the recollection of the incident afforded him an immense amount of amusement.
"Ha, ha! Yes, awful joke that, wasn't it? almost as good as the time when that fool of a master of yours, Lake, or Blake, or whatever you call him, had me sent off the field so that you could win the match."
"It was no such thing," answered Jack. "You know very well why it wasBlake interfered; and he's not a fool, but a jolly good sort."
"Oh, don't get angry," returned the other. "I'm sure I shouldn't fly into a wax if you called Fox or old Phillips a fool. I got sick of that beastly little school, as I expect you did of yours, and so I made my uncle send me here.—Hullo! I suppose that's the bell for going back to work; see you again later on."
"I say," whispered Diggory, as soon as they had regained their seat in the examination-room, "I vote we give that chap the cold shoulder."
The following morning the three friends heard their names read out as forming part of the Third Form, to which their friend Carton already belonged. Young Noaks was placed in the Upper Fourth, and they were not destined therefore to have him as a class-mate.
The Third Form at Ronleigh had, for some reason or other, received the title of "The Happy Family." They certainly were an amusing lot of little animals, and Diggory and his companions coming into the classroom rather late, and before the entrance of the master, saw them for the first time to full advantage. Out of the two-and-twenty juveniles present, only about six seemed to be in their proper places.
One young gentleman sitting close to the blackboard cried, "Powder, sir!" and straightway scrubbed his neighbour's face with a very chalky duster. The latter, by way of retaliation, smote the former's pile of books from the desk on to the ground—a little attention which was immediately returned by boy number one; while as they bent down to pick up their scattered possessions, a third party, sitting on the form behind, made playful attempts to tread upon their fingers. Two rival factions in the rear of the room were waging war with paper darts; while a small, sandy-haired boy, whose tangled hair and disordered attire gave him the appearance, as the saying goes, of having been dragged through a furze-bush backwards, rapped vigorously with his knuckles upon the master's table, and inquired loudly how many more times he was to say "Silence!"
The entrance of the three new-comers caused a false alarm, and in a moment every one was in his proper seat.
"Bother it!" cried the small, sandy-haired boy, who had bumped his knee rushing from the table to his place; "why didn't you make more noise when you came in?"
"But I thought you were asking for silence," answered Diggory.
"Shut up, and don't answer back when you are spoken to by a prefect," retorted the small boy. "Look here, you haven't written your name on Watford's slate.—They must, mustn't they, Maxton?" he added, turning to a boy who sat at the end of one of the back seats.
"Of course they must," answered Maxton, who, with both elbows on the desk, was blowing subdued railway whistles through his hands; "every new fellow has to write his name on that little slate on Mr. Watford's table, and he enters them from there into his mark-book. I'm head boy, and I've got to see you do it. Look sharp, or he'll be here in a minute, and there'll be a row."
Diggory, Vance, and Mugford hastily signed their names, one under the other, upon the slate. There was a good deal of tittering while they did so; but as a new boy is laughed at for nearly everything he does, they took no notice of it, and had hardly got back to their places when the master entered the room, and the work began in earnest.
About a quarter of an hour later the boys were busy with a Latin exercise, when silence was broken by a shuffle and an exclamation from the back desk. "You again, Maxton," said the master, looking up with a frown. "I suppose you are determined to idle away your time and remain bottom of the class this term as you were last. I shall put your name down for some extra work. Let's see," he continued, taking up the slate: "I appear to have three boys' names down already—'Vance,' 'Mugford,' and 'Trevanock.' What's the meaning of this? This is not my writing. How came these names here?"
"Please, sir," faltered Mugford, "we put them there ourselves."
"Put them there yourselves! What d'you want to put your names down on my punishment slate for? I suppose some one told you to, didn't they?"
"Please, sir," answered Diggory warily, "we thought we had to, so that you might have our names to enter in your mark-book."
There was a burst of laughter, but that answer went a long way towards setting the Alliance on a good footing with their class-mates.
"That young Trevanock's the right sort," said Maxton, "and so are the others. I thought they'd sneak about that slate, but they didn't."
Mr. Noaks, junior, on the other hand, was destined to find that he was not going to carry everything before him at Ronleigh as he had done among the small fry at Horace House, The Upper Fourth voted him a "bounder," and nicknamed him "Moke." After morning school he repeated his attempt to ally himself with his former foes, but the result was decidedly unsatisfactory.
Down in the box-room, a good-sized apartment boarded off from the gymnasium, Jack Vance was serving out a ration of plum-cake to a select party, consisting of his two chums and Carton, when the ex-Philistine strolled up and joined himself to the group.
"Hullo!" he said, "are you chaps having a feed? D'you remember that pork-pie we bagged from one of your kids at Chatford? Ha, ha! it was a lark."
"I don't see it's much of a lark to bag what doesn't belong to you," muttered Diggory.
"What's that you say?"
"Nothing for you to hear," returned the other. "I don't know if you're waiting about here to get some cake, but I'm sure I never invited you to come."
"Look here, don't be cheeky," answered Noaks. "If you think I want to make friends with a lot of impudent young monkeys like you, all I can say is you're jolly well mistaken," and so saying he turned on his heel and walked away.
"I say, Trevanock," said Carton, two days later, "that fellow Noaks has found a friend at last: he's picked up with Mouler. They'll make a nice pair, I should say. Mouler was nearly expelled last term for telling lies to Ellesby about some cribs."
Noaks certainly seemed to have discovered a chum in the black sheep of the Upper Fourth, and the Triple Alliance began to congratulate themselves that he would trouble them no further. In a big school like Ronleigh College there was plenty of room for everybody to go his own way without fear of running his head into people whom he wished to avoid. Our three friends, however, seemed fated to find in the person of Noaks junior a perpetual stumbling-block and cause of disquietude and annoyance. They had no sooner succeeded in setting him at a distance when an incident occurred which brought them once more into violent collision with the enemy.
The pavilion, which has already been mentioned as standing on the match ground, was a handsome wooden structure, surrounded by some low palings, in front of which was a small oblong patch of gravel. On the second Saturday morning of the term Noaks and Mouler were lounging across this open space, when Oaks, the prefect, emerged from the pavilion, carrying in his hand a pot of paint he had been mixing for the goal-posts, which were just being put up. On reaching the paling he suddenly ejaculated, "Bother! I've forgotten the brush;" and resting the can on the top of the little gate-post, hurried back up the short flight of steps, and disappeared through the open door.
"I say, there's a good cock-shy," said Noaks, nodding his head in the direction of the paint.
"Umph! shouldn't like to try," answered Mouler.
"Why not?"
"Because Oaks would jolly well punch both our heads."
"Well, here's a new kid coming; let's set him on to do it. You speak to him; he knows me. His name's Mugford."
The two cronies both picked up a handful of stones, and began throwing at the can, taking good care that their shots should fly wide of the mark.
Mugford, who, as we have already seen, was not blessed with the sharpest of wits, paused for a moment to watch the contest. The paint had been mixed in an old fruit-tin, and at first sight it certainly seemed to have been put on the post for the sole purpose of being knocked off again.
"Hullo, you new kid!" exclaimed Mouler. "Look here, we want a chap for the third eleven next season—a fellow who can throw straight. Come along, and let's see if you can hit that old can."
It certainly looked easy enough, and Mugford, pleased at being taken some notice of by a boy in the Upper Fourth, picked up some pebbles, and joined in the bombardment. The second shot brought the tin down with a great clatter, and a flood of white paint spread all over the trim little pathway. At the same instant Oaks dashed down the steps boiling with rage.
"Confound you!" he cried; "who did that ?"
"I did," answered Mugford, half crying; "I thought it was empty."
"Thought it was empty! why didn't you look, you young blockhead?" cried the prefect, catching the small boy by the arm, while Noaks and Mouler burst into a roar of laughter.
Things would probably have gone hard with the unfortunate Mugford if at that moment a fifth party had not arrived on the scene. The new-comer, who, from the show of whisker at the side of his face and the tone of authority in which he spoke, seemed to be one of the masters, was tall and muscular, with the bronze of a season's cricketing still upon his cheeks and neck.
"Stop a minute, Oaks," he said. "I happened to see this little game; let's hear what the kid's got to say for himself."
In faltering tones Mugford told his story. Without a word the stranger stepped up to Mouler and dealt him a sounding box on the ear.
"There!" he said, "take that for your trouble; and now cut off down town and buy a fresh pot of paint out of your own pocket, and do it jolly quick, too.—As for you," he added, turning to Noaks, "get a spade out of that place under the pavilion and clean up this path. If you weren't a new fellow I'd serve you the same. Look out in future."
"And you look out too," muttered Noaks, glancing at Mugford with a fierce expression on his face as the two seniors moved off, "you beastly young sneak. The first chance I get I'll give you the best licking you ever had in your life."
"Old Mug is rather a fool," remarked Jack Vance to Diggory a few hours later; "he ought to have seen through that. But we must stand by him because of the Triple Alliance. Noaks is sure to try to set on him the first chance he gets."
"Yes," answered Diggory; "look out for squalls."
At the end of the first fortnight our three friends had begun to find their feet at Ronleigh, and the sense of being "outsiders" in everything was gradually wearing off as they grew more intimate with their schoolfellows.
Jack Vance and Diggory soon became popular members of "The Happy Family," and their loyalty to Mugford caused the latter's path to be much smoother than it probably would have been had he been compelled to tread it alone.
Carton turned out a capital fellow; Rathson, the small, sandy-haired boy mentioned in the previous chapter, and who generally went by the name of "Rats," took a great fancy to Jack; while Maxton repeated his assertion that young Trevanock was "the right sort," and as a further mark of his favour presented the new-comer with a moleskin of his own curing, which looked very nice, but, as "Rats" put it, "smelt rather fruity."
But it was not in the Third Form only that Diggory began to find friends; for by a lucky chance he was fortunate enough to make a good impression on the minds of the great men, who, as a rule, took no further notice of the small fry than to exact from them a certain amount of obedience, or in default a certain number of lines or other "impots."
One morning, soon after breakfast, a little group was gathered round Carton's desk in the big school-room, discussing the value of some foreign stamps, when a small boy came up to them, saying,—
"Is Trevanock here? Well, Acton wants you now at once in his study."
"Hullo," said Carton, looking up from the sheet of specimens in front of him—"hullo, Diggy! What have you been up to?"
"I haven't been doing anything," answered the other. "What do you think he wants me for?"
"I don't know, but it sounds rather like getting a licking. At all events, you'd better hurry up; prefects don't thank you for keeping them waiting. His is the third door on the right as you go down the passage."
Diggory hastened to obey the summons, wondering what it could mean. He found the door, and in answer to the loud "Come in!" which greeted his knock turned the handle, and found himself for the first time inside one of the Sixth Form studies.
It was a small, square room, and looked very cosy and comfortable with its red window-curtains, well-filled bookshelf, and many little knick-knacks that adorned the walls and mantelpiece. An array of silver cups, several photographs of cricket and football teams, and a miscellaneous pile of bats, fencing-sticks, Indian clubs, etc., standing in one corner, all spoke of the athlete; while carelessly thrown down on the top of a cupboard was an article for the possession of which many a, boy would have bartered the whole of his worldly wealth—a bit of worn blue velvet and the tarnished remnant of what had once been a gold tassel—the "footer cap" of Ronleigh College.
But it was not so much the furniture as the occupants of the study that attracted Diggory's attention. John Acton, a tall, wiry fellow, who looked as though his whole body was as hard and tough as whip-cord, was standing leaning on the end of the mantelpiece talking to another of the seniors, who sat sprawling in a folding-chair on the other side of the fire; while seated at the table, turning over the leaves of what appeared to be a big manuscript book, was no less a personage than Allingford, the school captain.
"I don't understand a bit what's coming to 'Thirsty,'" the football leader was saying. "I was rather chummy with him when we were in the Fifth, and he was all right then, but now he seems to be running to seed as fast as he can; and I believe it's a great deal that fellow Fletcher.—Hullo, youngster! what d'you want?"
"I was told you wanted to see me," said Diggory nervously.
"Oh yes. You were at The Birches, that school near Chatford, weren't you? Well, I want to hear about that love affair my young brother had with the old chap's daughter.—It was an awful joke," added the speaker, addressing his companions. "He was about fourteen, and she's a grown-up woman; and he was awfully gone, I can tell you.—How did he pop the question?"
"He wrote," answered Diggory. "We tossed up whether he should do that or speak."
There was a burst of laughter.
"Did you see the letter?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why not? don't you remember?"
"Yes; but he only showed me the letter on condition I wouldn't ever tell any one what was in it."
"Oh, that's all rot! you can tell me; I'm his brother. Come, out with it."
It was an awful thing to beard the lion in his den—for a new boy to face so great a personage as the football captain, and refuse point-blank to do as he was told. Diggory shifted uneasily from one foot to another, and then glancing up he became aware of the fact that Allingford was gazing at him across the table with a curious expression, which somehow gave him fresh encouragement to persist in his refusal to disclose the contents of his former friend's love-letter.
"I can't tell you," he repeated; "it was a promise, you know."
The Ronleigh captain laughed. "Well done," he said. "I wish some other fellows were a bit more careful to keep their promises.—Acton, you beggar, you swore you'd keep up this register for me, and there's nothing entered for last term."
"Oh, bother you, Ally!" exclaimed the other; "what a nigger-driver you are!—Hullo, there's the bell!—Here, kid, stick those two oranges in your pocket; go 'long!"
Diggory left the room, having gained something else besides the two oranges; for as he closed the door Allingford laughed again, and rising from his chair said, "He's a stanch little beggar; I think I'll keep an eye on him."
The subject of this remark hurried away, and had just joined the crowd of boys who were thronging into the big school for assembly, when some one took hold of his arm, and glancing round he was startled to see Jack Vance, looking very excited and dishevelled, and mopping his mouth with a blood-stained handkerchief.
"I say," exclaimed the latter, "have you seen Mugford?"
"No. What's the matter? what have you done to your mouth?"
"Why, I've had a beastly row with Noaks. I'll 'tell you after school."
"No, tell me now," cried Diggory, pulling his companion aside into a corner by the door. "Quick—what was it?"
"Why, he pounced down on Mugford, out there by the fives-court, and began twisting his arm and saying he'd pay him out for that paint-pot business. I went to the rescue, and the beast hit me with the back of his hand here on the mouth. I told him he was a cad, and said something about his father being only a man-servant, and having stolen our things. I'm sorry now, for it was rather a low thing to do, but I was in such a wax I didn't think what I was saying. Mouler was standing by, and he heard it, and laughed; and Noaks looked as if he'd have killed me. I believe he would have knocked me down, only Rowlands, the prefect, came up and stopped the row."
There was no time for any further details, and the two boys had to rush away to their seats in order to escape being marked as late.
One thing was certain—that the Triple Alliance were once more embroiled in a quarrel with their ancient foe the former leader of the Philistines, and they knew enough of their adversary's character to feel sure that he would not pass over an event of this kind without some attempt at revenge.
It is probable that, if this had happened at Horace House, Jack Vance would have received a good licking as soon as the classes were dismissed; but a few very plain and forcible words spoken by Rowlands on the subject of knocking small boys about caused Noaks to postpone his retaliation.
"Look here," he said, meeting Jack Vance in the quadrangle during the interval: "just you keep your mouth shut about me and my father. I've got two or three accounts to settle with you chaps already; just mind what you're up to." He clinched his fist as though about to strike, then, with an ugly scowl, turned on his heel and walked away.
It must have been about three days after this encounter with Noaks that our three friends were called upon to attend a mass meeting of the Third Form, to consider the advisability of starting a periodical in opposition to the school magazine. Important events connected with a later period of their life at Ronleigh render it necessary that we should not linger too long over the account of their first term; but some mention, however brief, should certainly be made of the memorable gathering to which we have referred. A notice pinned on to the black-board, and pulled down as soon as Mr. Watford entered the classroom, announced the project in the following words:—
"NOTICE.""A meeting will be held in the 'old lab' directlyafter dinner to-day, to make plans for starting amagazine in opposition toThe Ronleian.All members of the Third Form are specially requestedto attend."
"You must come," said "Rats" to Diggory; "it'll be an awful lark."
"But what's it all about?"
"Oh, you'll hear when you get there. It's Fletcher's idea; he wants to start a new magazine. Eastfield, who editsThe Ronleian, is Maxton's cousin; so Maxton's going to interrupt and get some other fellows to do the same. I'm going to be part of the opposition," added the youthful "Rats," beaming with delight, "and I have got a whole heap of paper bags I'm going to burst while Fletcher's speaking."
The "old lab," as it was called, was a small brick building which stood on one side of the asphalt playground. A new laboratory having recently been fitted up elsewhere, the former one was, for the time being, unused. It was not more than about fifteen feet long by seven or eight feet wide; and as "The Happy Family" mustered in force, the place was crowded to overflowing. The door having been closed, Fletcher Two mounted a low stone sink which ran along the end wall, and from this ready-made platform commenced to address the assembly :—
"Gentlemen,—We've met here, as you know, to talk over starting a fresh magazine.The Ronleianis a beastly swindle, and it's high time we had something different." (A voice, "No, 'tisn't," and the bursting of a paper bag.) "You shut up there! I say it is a swindle: they didn't give any account of that fourth eleven match against Robertson's second, and they made fun of us in the 'Quad Gossip,' and said that in 'The Happy Family' there was a preponderance of monkey." ("So there is, and you're it!" Laughter and another explosion.)
"What I propose is that we start a manuscript magazine for the Third Form, and that every fellow promise to take that, and never to buy a copy of the other. We might pass it round, and charge a penny each to look at it. Will you all subscribe?"
No one spoke, the silence only being broken by the sound of "Rats" blowing up another bag, which caused a fresh burst of laughter.
"Will you all subscribe?" once more demanded the speaker.
There were mingled cries of "Yes!" and "No!" and a stentorian yell of "No, you cuckoo! of course we won't," from Maxton, and another explosion.
"Look here, young 'Rats,' if you burst any more of those bags I'll come down and burst your head.—I forgot to say, gentlemen, that Mr. Bibbs has promised to assist in editing the paper; and I will now call upon him to give you an account of what it will contain."
Bibbs, the Third Form genius, was regarded by every one as a huge joke, and the very mention of his name caused a fresh burst of merriment. He was a sad-faced, untidy-looking boy, quick and clever enough in some things, and equally dull and stupid in others. The announcement that he would address the meeting had no sooner been made than half a dozen willing pairs of hands seized and hoisted him on to the platform; though no sooner had he attained this exalted position than two or three voices ordered him in a peremptory manner to "Come down!"
The greater part of the audience not caring the toss of a button whether Fletcher started his magazine or not, but thinking that it was rather good fun to interrupt the proceedings, now joined the opposition, and the unfortunate Bibbs was subjected to a brisk fire of chaff. One facetious class-mate, standing close to the sink, offered to sell him by auction; and hammering on the stones with the fragment of a bat handle, knocked him down for threepence to another joker, who said he'd do for a pen-wiper.
"Sing a song, Bibbs!" cried one voice; "Where's your neck-tie?" asked another; "What are you grinning at?" demanded a third; while the object of these pleasantries stood, with a vacant smile upon his face, nervously fumbling with his watch-chain.
"Go on!" cried Fletcher, who had descended from the platform to make room for his colleague; "say something, you fool!"
"The magazine is to be written on exercise-book paper," began Bibbs, and had only got thus far when he was interrupted by a perfect salvo of paper bags which little "Rats" discharged in quick succession.
With an exclamation of wrath Fletcher made a dive in the direction of the offender, and in a moment the whole gathering was in a state of confusion. The majority of those present siding with "Rats," began to hustle Fletcher, while two gentlemen having dragged Bibbs from his perch, jumped up in his stead, and began to execute a clog-dance.
In the midst of this commotion Maxton elbowed his way through the crush, and having pushed the two boys off the sink, mounted it himself, crying,—
"Look here, I'm going to speak; just you listen a minute. The reason why Bibbs wants to start a new magazine is because he wrote a novel once, and sent it toThe Ronleianto come out so much each month, and they wouldn't have it."
"Shut up, Maxton!" cried Fletcher, rushing to the spot; "you've only come here on purpose to interrupt. Let's turn him out!"
"Yes, turn him out!" echoed the audience, who by this time were just in the spirit for "ragging," and would have ejected friend or foe alike for the sport of the thing—"turn him out!"
The two clog-dancers being quite ready to avenge the interruption of their performance, formed themselves into a storming-party, and carried the platform by assault. Maxton, struggling all the way, was dragged to the door, and cast out into the playground. Most of the restless spirits in the audience requiring a short breathing-space to recover their wind after the tussle, there followed a few moments' quiet, which Fletcher immediately took advantage of to mount the sink and resume the business of the meeting.
"The magazine," he began, "is going to be written on exercise-book paper. Any one who likes can contribute, and it's going to be more especially a paper for the Third Form."
The speaker went on to show that the periodical was destined to supply a long-felt want.The Ronleianignored the doings of boys in the lower half of the school, and returned their contributions with insulting suggestions, pencilled on the margins, that the authors should devote some of their spare time and energy to the study of their English grammars and spelling-books.The Third Form Chronicle, as it was to be called, would recognize the fact that junior boys had as much right to be heard as seniors, and would afford them the opportunity of airing their views on any subject they chose to bring forward.
Fletcher had barely time to proceed thus far with his speech when an alarming interruption occurred, which put an immediate stop to his further utterance. Nearly at the top of the end wall there had formerly been a ventilator; this, for one reason or another, had been removed, and in the brickwork an open space about a foot square had been left. A hissing noise was suddenly heard outside, and the next moment a stream of water shot through the aperture, and descended in a perfect deluge on the heads of the company.
The fact was that Maxton, ever a reckless young villain, had discovered a hose fixed to one of the mains close to the building, and had immediately seized upon it as an instrument wherewith to wreak vengeance on his companions for having turned him out of the meeting.
Words cannot describe the uproar and confusion which followed. As one man the whole assembly made for the door, but only to find it fastened on the outside. The water flew all over the small building, drenching every one in turn. Some howled, some laughed, and only Bibbs had sufficient presence of mind to creep under the sink, which afforded a certain amount of shelter from the falling flood.
The deluge ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and an instant later the door was flung open, and the figure of a Sixth Form boy was seen barring the exit.
"Now, then," he demanded, "what are you youngsters making this awful row for? I've a jolly good mind to take all your names."
There was a moment's silence. Then Fletcher's voice was heard exclaiming,—
"Oh! it's only old 'Thirsty;' he's all right."
"Here, not so fast," answered the prefect, blocking up the doorway as some boys tried to escape; "what are you chaps doing in here? I thought you'd been told to keep out."
The originator of the meeting pushed his way through the crowd, and taking hold of the big fellow's arm in a familiar manner, said,—
"Oh, it's all right, 'Thirsty,' old chap. We just came inside, and some one squirted water all over us, and that's why we shouted. But we won't do it again."
"Oh, but it isn't all right," returned the other. "If I find any of you in here again, I'll help you out with the toe of my boot. Go on! I'll let you off this once."
The crowd rushed forth and quickly dispersed.
"That Thurston seems an awful decent chap," said Diggory; "I didn't think he'd let us off so easily."
"He's all right as long as you don't cross him," answered Carton. "He used to be pretty strict, but he doesn't seem to care now what fellows do. He's very thick with Fletcher's brother—that's one reason why he didn't do anything just now; but I can tell you he's a nasty chap to deal with when he's in a wax."
The prefect locked the empty building, and turning on his heel caught sight of our three friends, who were standing close by waiting for "Rats."
"Hullo, you new kids! what are you called?"
The usual answer was given, and Thurston passed on, little thinking what good cause he would have before the end of the year for remembering the names of the trio, and altogether unaware of the prominent part which the Triple Alliance was destined to play in his own private affairs as well as in the fortunes of Ronleigh College.
The weeks slipped away, and the Triple Alliance soon got over their new-boy trials, and began to enjoy all the rights and privileges of Ronleigh College boys. They wrote letters to Miss Eleanor and to their former schoolfellows, and received in reply the latest news from The Birches.
"The Philistines are quite friendly now," wrote Acton. "We had a match against them last week on their ground, and they gave us tea after. It's awfully slow; I almost wish that chap Noaks was back."
"So do I," added Diggory, as he finished the sentence; "we could very well spare him."
"Oh, he's all right," answered Jack Vance; "that row's blown over now.As long as we leave him alone he won't interfere with us."
"Won't he!" returned the other; "you take my word for it, he hasn't forgotten what you said about his father, and he's only waiting for a chance to pay us out. Whenever I go near him he looks as black as ink."
It was customary at Ronleigh to have what was called a half-term holiday. This was usually given on a Monday, to enable those boys who lived within a short distance of the school to spend the week end at home; while, in the winter or spring terms, the boarders who remained at the school usually devoted the greater portion of the day to a paper-chase.
"I shall go home," said Jack Vance to his two chums; "Todderton's only about half an hour's ride from here on the railway. And, I say, I've got a grand idea: I'm going to write and get my mater to invite you fellows to come too! It would be jolly to have a meeting there of the Triple Alliance, and I'm sure old Denson would let you go if we came back on Monday night."
Both Mugford and Diggory were charmed with the idea. "But d'you really think your mater would have us?" they asked.
"Of course she will, if I ask her," answered Jack, and straightway sat down to write the letter.
By Wednesday evening everything, including the formal invitation and the doctors permission to accept the same, had been obtained, and for the two following days the Triple Alliance could talk or think of little else besides their projected excursion. At length Saturday came, and as soon as morning school was over they rushed upstairs to change into their best clothes; and having crammed their night-shirts, brushes and combs, etc., into a hand-bag, hurried off to the railway station, in order that they might, as Jack put it, "be home in time for dinner."
Just as they were getting into the train, who should come out of the booking-office but young Noaks.
"Hullo!" said Jack. "He must be going home too; I hope he won't come in here."
The new-comer, however, had no intention of making another attempt to force his society on the Triple Alliance; he passed them with a surly nod, and entered a compartment at the other end of the train.
Jack Vance lived in the suburbs of Todderton, about twenty minutes' walk from the railway; but for all that he managed to carry out his intention of being home in time for dinner; and the three boys, after receiving a hearty welcome, were soon seated down to a repast which came very acceptable after seven weeks of school fare.
"Jack," said Mr. Vance, "you know that house that was to let just on the other side of The Hermitage? Who d'you think's taken it?"
"I don't know, father."
"Why, that man Simpson, the uncle of your friend what's-his-name."
"He isn't my friend," answered Jack. "You mean Noaks. Fancy his coming to live so near to us as that! We saw him in the train just now. He's here for the holiday."
"I ought to tell you," continued Mr. Vance, turning to Diggory, "that our next-door neighbour is called 'The Hermit.' He's a queer old fellow, who lives by himself, and never makes friends or speaks to any one. He's supposed to be very clever, and I've heard it said that he's got a very valuable collection of coins, and is quite an authority on the subject; it's one of his hobbies."
"I suppose," said Mugford thoughtfully, "that as he's a hermit that's why his place is called The Hermitage."
"Well done, Mug!" said Jack, speaking with his mouth pretty full; "you're getting quite sharp."
"Yes, that's it," continued Mr. Vance, laughing. "The old man's away from home just now; he was suffering from rheumatism very badly, and the doctor ordered him to a course of treatment at some baths."
The conversation turned on other topics, and when at length they rose from the table, Jack proposed a stroll round the garden.
There were many things to see—some pet rabbits, a swing, and an old summer-house, which Jack, being, we should say, of a decidedly nautical turn of mind, had turned into a sort of miniature shipbuilding yard for the construction of model vessels; though at present the chief use to which the place seemed to have been put was the production of a great amount of chips and shavings.
"I say," exclaimed the owner, after he and his friends had amused themselves for some time boring holes in the door with a brace, "I know what we'll do: let's go over and explore The Hermitage!"
Anything with a spice of excitement in it was meat and drink to Diggory. He immediately seconded the proposition, and Mugford, after a moment's hesitation, agreed to join his companions in the enterprise.
They strolled off down the path, and soon reached a long stretch of brick wall, the top of which was thickly covered with fragments of broken bottles.
"There's a place down at the other end where we can get over," said Jack. "I smashed the glass with a hammer, because I lost a ball and had to climb over and get it, one day last holidays."
The Hermitage was surrounded on all sides by a thick mass of shrubs and trees, through which a moment later the Triple Alliance were cautiously threading their way. Emerging from the bushes, they found themselves standing on a gravel path, green with moss and weeds, which ran round the house—a queer, dilapidated-looking building, which seemed sadly in want of repair: the plaster was cracked and discoloured, while the doors and windows had long stood in need of a fresh coating of paint.
"I say," whispered Mugford, "hadn't we better go back? what if the old chap's at home!"
"Oh, it's all right; there's nobody about," answered Jack. "Let's go on and see what the place is really like."
They tip-toed round the building. It was evidently unoccupied, though the delightful sense of uncertainty that at any moment some one might pounce out upon them or walk down the drive made the questionable adventure very charming.
"Have you ever been inside?" asked Diggory.
"No, rather not; I don't think any one has except the doctor, and an old woman who comes in to do the house-work."
"Well, then, I'm going in," answered Diggory, with a twinkle in his eye.
"Go on! Why, you might be had up for house-breaking!"
"Rubbish! I'm not going to steal anything.—Here, Mug, lend me your knife a minute."
"I don't believe this one's fastened," he continued, walking up to one of the windows. "No, it isn't. Bother! I'm awfully sorry, Mugford."
Using the big blade of the clasp-knife as a lever, Diggory had just succeeded in raising the sash the fraction of an inch, when the steel suddenly snapped off short at the handle.
"Oh, never mind," said the owner; "let's go back now. What if we're seen!"
"Oh, there's no fear of that," answered Jack, who was always infected with the adventurous spirit of his chum.—"Go on, Diggy; I'll come too."
By inserting their fingers in the aperture, the boys soon raised the sash, and a few seconds later Diggory mounted the ledge and scrambled through the window "Come on," he said; "the coast's all clear."
Jack Vance joined him immediately, and Mugford, not wishing to be left alone outside, was not long in making up his mind to follow his companions.
The room in which the three boys found themselves was evidently a library or study. Book-shelves, and cupboards with glass doors, containing geological and other specimens, occupied much of the wall space; while in the centre of the floor stood a large writing-table, covered with a miscellaneous collection of pens, ink-pots, bundles of papers, and a polished mahogany box which could easily be recognized as a microscope-case.
The intruders stood for a few moments gazing round in silence. The place did not look very interesting, and smelt rather damp and mouldy.
"I say," exclaimed Jack Vance, "look there: he don't seem very careful how he leaves his things when he goes away."
As he spoke he pointed across to the opposite side of the room, where, between two bookcases, an iron safe had been let into the wall. The heavy door was standing half open, while the floor beneath was strewn with a quantity of shallow wooden trays lined with green baize.
"Old bachelors are always untidy," remarked Diggory. "Let's see where this door leads to." He turned the handle as he spoke, and walked out into a gloomy little hall paved with cold, bare flagstones, which caused their footsteps to waken mournful echoes in the empty house.
"I say, you fellows, don't let's go any further," murmured Mugford;" we've seen enough now. Suppose the old chap came back and—"
He never reached the end of the sentence, for Diggory suddenly raised his hand, exclaiming in a whisper, "Hark! what was that?"
The loud ticking of Mugford's old turnip of a watch was distinctly audible in the silence which followed.
"What is it, Diggy? what—"
"Hark! there it is again; listen."
The suspense became awful. At length Diggory dropped his hand. "Didn't you hear footsteps?" he asked. "I'm certain there's some one walking about on the gravel path."
"We shall be caught," whimpered Mugford; "I knew we should. What can we do?"
"Bolt!" answered Diggory, and began tip-toeing back towards the library door. "Stay here half a 'jiffy,'" he added; "I'll go and reconnoitre."
Ages seemed to pass while Jack Vance and Mugford stood in the dark passage awaiting their companion's return. At length the door was pushed softly open.
"It's all right; there's no one there. I must have been mistaken.Come along."
In a very short time the Triple Alliance were once more outside The Hermitage. Diggory lingered for a moment to close the window, and then followed his companions through the shrubs and over the wall.
"You are a great ass, Diggy, to go giving us a start like that," said Jack, as they paused for a moment to take breath before returning to the house.
"Well, I could have sworn I heard the gravel crunch as if some one was walking on it," returned the other. "I should think the place must be haunted."
A good tea, with all kinds of nice things on the table, soon revived the boys from the trifling shock which their nerves had sustained, and by the end of the evening their adventure was wellnigh forgotten. They were destined, however, to remember it for many a long day to come, and before many hours had passed they were heartily wishing that they had never set foot inside The Hermitage, but kept on their own side of the wall.
The party were seated at supper on Sunday evening, when a servant entered the room, and addressing her master said, "If you please, sir, there's a policeman called to see you."
Jack's father rose from his chair, remarking, in a jocular manner,"I expect it's one of you young gentlemen he's come after."
The meal was nearly over when Mr. Vance returned and reseated himself at the table.
"Did either of you hear the dog bark last night?" he asked.
"No; why?"
"Why, because old Fossberry's house has been broken into, and they think the thieves must have come through our garden; there were some footmarks in the shrubbery just on the other side of the wall."
The hearts of the Triple Alliance seemed to jump into their throats, and their mouths grew dry and parched. Jack stared at Mugford, and Mugford stared at Diggory, but none of them spoke.
"It seems," continued Mr. Vance, not noticing the effect which his first announcement had produced on at least three of his hearers, "that the old woman who looks after the house went there this morning, and found that the iron safe in which the old chap keeps his coins had been opened and the whole collection removed. The only trace of the thieves that the police have been able to discover is the broken blade of a clasp-knife, which was on a flower-bed near the window."
"What will they get if they are caught?" asked Jack faintly.
"Oh, penal servitude, I suppose; it's a serious business housebreaking."
"How quiet you boys are!" said Mrs. Vance a short time later."I think you must be tired. Wouldn't you like to go to bed?"
The three friends were only too glad to avail themselves of this excuse for getting away into some place where they could indulge in a little private conversation. Diggory and Mugford slept together in the same room; Jack followed them in and closed the door.
"Well," he exclaimed, "we're in a nice mess."
"But we didn't steal the coins," said Mugford.
"Of course we didn't—the safe had been robbed before we went there—but it looks as if we'd done it; and if they find out we got into the house, I don't see how we're going to prove that we're innocent."
There was a short silence; then Diggory spoke.
"Look here, Jack: I was the one who proposed going inside the place; shall I tell your guv'nor?"
"Well, I was thinking of doing that myself, only I don't see what good it can do. If we tell him, he'll be bound to tell the police, to explain about those footmarks; and when it comes out that we got into the house, I should think we are pretty certain to be charged with having stolen the coins. I think the best thing will be to keep it dark: we didn't crib the things, and the thieves are sure to be caught in time."
Even after Jack had retired to his own room, Diggory and Mugford lay awake for hours discussing the situation; and when at length they did fall asleep, it was only to dream of being chased by "The Hermit" and a swarm of long-legged policemen, who forced their way into the Third Form classroom at Ronleigh, and handcuffed the unfortunate trio in the very bosom of "The Happy Family."
The following morning was spent in visiting such parts of the town ofTodderton as were worth seeing.
"Upon my word," said Jack, "I feel funky to show my nose outside our gate, just as if I really had prigged those wretched coins. I shan't be at all sorry this evening to get back to Ronleigh. It's all in the paper this morning; it mentions the footmarks and the knife-blade, and says that as yet the police have not been able to discover any further traces of the robbers."
The conditions on which the half-term holiday was granted required every boy to return to school on the Monday evening, and accordingly, about seven o'clock, the Triple Alliance found themselves once more on their way to the railway station. They took their seats, and had hardly done so when young Noaks entered the compartment.
"Hullo, you fellows!" he exclaimed; "didn't you hear me whistle?I was standing over there by the book-stall."
Regarding this as an overture of friendship after their recent encounter, Jack Vance replied in an equally amicable manner, and after a few common-place remarks the party relapsed into silence. At Chatton, the station before Ronleigh, a man who had so far travelled with them got out, and the four boys were left alone. Hardly had the train started again when Noaks put down his paper, and turning to his companions said,—
"That's a rum business about that old chap's house being robbed, isn't it?"
Something in the speaker's look and in the tone of his voice caused the three listeners to experience an unpleasant quickening of their pulses.
"Yes," answered Diggory, with a well-assumed air of indifference."I suppose they'll catch the thieves in time."
"I suppose so," returned the other, "especially if they find the chap who owns that knife with the broken blade."
The malignant look with which these words was accompanied showed at once that the speaker meant mischief. The three friends looked at one another in horrified amazement. Could it be possible that their visit to The Hermitage had already been discovered?
Noaks watched their faces for a moment, evidently well pleased with the effect which his remark had produced; then he burst out laughing.
"Look here," he continued, producing from his pocket a buck-handled clasp-knife: "I wonder if that's anything like it; I see the big blade's broken."
The Triple Alliance recognized it in a moment as one of the articles that had been rescued from Mugford's sale at The Birches; in fact, the owner's name appeared plainly engraved on the small brass plate.
Diggory was the first to find his tongue.
"What d'you mean? We didn't steal the coins!"
"My dear fellow, I never said you did. I only know that on Saturday I was looking over our wall, through an opening there happens to be in the shrubs, and saw you fellows climbing out of the old chap's window; and after you'd gone I noticed something lying in the path, and I hopped over, and picked up this knife."
"Give it here; it's mine," said Mugford, holding out his hand.
"No fear," answered the other, calmly returning the piece of lost property to his own pocket. "In this case finding's keeping; besides, I'm not sure if I couldn't get a reward for this if I sent it to the right place."
The train began to slacken speed as it approached Ronleigh station.
"Look here, Noaks," cried Jack Vance, in a fit of desperation, "what are you going to do? You know very well we are not thieves."
"I don't know anything of the sort," returned the tormentor, standing up to take his bag off the rack; "all I know is just what I've told you. See here, Mr. Vance," he continued, rounding on Jack with a sudden snarl, "you were good enough some little time ago to make some very caddish remarks about my father; in the future you'd better keep your mouth shut. I owe all three of you a dressing down for things that happened at Chatford, and now you'd better mind your P's and Q's if you don't want to be hauled up for housebreaking."
With this parting threat the ex-Philistine left the carriage. Mugford, Jack, and Diggory gazed at one another for a moment with anything but a happy look on their faces. One after another they slowly gathered up their things and stepped out on to the platform. Hardly had they done so when they heard their names called, and turning round beheld the small figure of "Rats" rushing forward to meet them.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "Old Ally sent me down to get a paper, and I thought you'd come by this train. I say, there's a fine row on up at the school—such a lark; I'll tell you about it as we go along."