The Master of the Shell Part 27

"I want a word with you, Railsford," said Mr Bickers.

"Now then, toe the line and be ready. Be careful about fouling. Are you ready?"

"Railsford, I want a word with you."

Railsford looked sharply round and perceived who the intruder was.

"I can't speak to you now, Mr Bickers, I'm busy. Now, boys, are you all ready? Off!"

And he started to run beside the race. Mr Bickers put as cheerful a face on this little rebuff as he could, and presently walked across to the winning-post to make another attempt. The race had been well won by Tilbury, who had beaten the School record hollow, and shown himself a long way ahead of his fellow-runners. He of course came in for an ovation, which included a "Well run" from Smedley, and a "Bravo, indeed"

from Railsford, which he valued specially. It was while he was receiving these friendly greetings that Mr Bickers once more approached Railsford.

"Now you have a moment or two to spare," he began.

"I've not a moment to spare," said Railsford, irritated. "What do you want?"

"I want you to look at this letter. It concerns you."

And he produced an envelope from his pocket.

"Give it to me," said Railsford. "I'll read it when I have time."

"No, thank you. I want you to--"

"Ring the bell for the high jump," said Railsford, turning his back. At the signal the whole company closed in a solid phalanx round the poles.

For the high jump was one of the great events of the day. Mr Bickers became mixed up in the crowd, and saw that it was hopeless to attempt further parley. He turned on his heel, and the fellows made a lane for him to pa.s.s out. As he got clear, and began slowly to retreat to his own house, the boys raised a loud defiant cheer. But whether this was to hail his departure or to greet the appearance of Barnworth and Wake, ready stripped for the fray, it would be difficult to say. But whichever it was, Mr Bickers seemed by no means discomfited. He turned and caught sight of the head and shoulders of his rival towering among his boys, and he smiled to himself and tapped the letter in his hand.

"Not a moment to spare!" said he to himself. "Good. We can wait. You may not be in such a hurry to get rid of me when you do read it; and your dear boys may change their minds about their hero, too," added he, as a fresh cheer, mingled with a "Huzza for Railsford," was wafted across the fields.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

MR. BICKERS PREFERS THE DOOR TO THE WINDOW.

The history of the great events of Railsford's sports were so faithfully chronicled at the time by Arthur Herapath in a long letter to his sister Daisy, that it would be presumption on my part, with that valuable doc.u.ment lying before me, to attempt to narrate in my own words what has been so much more vivaciously described by my young friend. Arthur was great at letter-writing, especially to his sister. And there is small doubt that, with the aid of a slang dictionary and a little imagination on her own part, that sympathetic young person was usually able to catch the drift of her young brother's rollicking lucubrations.

"Dear Da. Thanks awfully for the bob."

A good many of Arthur's letters began with this curious observation.

Whether this particular "bob" had reference to Railsford's testimonial or not, the writer cannot speak positively.

"We had a ripping time at our sports, and licked all the records but three. No end of a crow for us. The School's tearing its hair all over the place, and our fellows have been yelling for two days without stopping. It's a jolly good job that row about Bickers came on when it did, as our chaps would never have pulled themselves together as they did without it. n.o.body wants to find the chap out now; so your particular is all serene up to now, and I don't mean to drip and spoil his game." (We wonder what Daisy made of this curious sentence when she read it!) "Dig and I were awfully riled we hadn't got you down for the sports, and I wanted Marky to wire up for you and put them off till you came. As it was, it didn't matter a bit, for Miss Violet showed up like a trump as she is, and backed us up; so it's just as well you hadn't come. Violet nodded to me! She's the most beautiful girl in the world.

Smedley turned up too; brickish, wasn't it? Bickers of course came, and tried to spoil our sports, but Marky gave him a flea in his ear, and Dig and I howled; so he didn't stay long.

"Bateson and Jukes pulled off the kids' hundred yards; and jolly c.o.c.ky they were, I can tell you. Bateson's the sneak I told you of.

"Tilbury won the Sh.e.l.l quarter-mile. Dig and I were in for it, but we wanted to save ourselves for the long jump and hurdles, so we ran easy, and Tilbury did it hands down.

"Ah, Da, really you should have been there to see the high jump!

Smedley and Clipstone tied 5 4 last week for the School. No end of a jump to beat; and Dig and I were in a blue funk about our men.

Barnworth and Wake were the only two entered;--dark horses both; at least _I_ didn't know what either of them could do. I heard Ainger tell Violet he thought we'd pull it off, so I perked up. They started at 4 foot 10. Wake m.u.f.fed his first jump, and we gave ourselves up for gone 'c.o.o.ns. However, he hopped over second try. They went up by inches to five feet. My word! you should have seen the way Violet clapped!

They'd have been cads if they hadn't gone over, with her backing them up like that. Wake's got the rummiest jump you ever saw. He runs sideways at the bar, and sort of lies down on his back on it as he goes over.

You'd think he'd m.u.f.f it every time, but just as he looks like done for, he kicks up his foot and clears. Barnworth takes it straight--skips up to the bar and goes over like a daisy, without seeming to try.

"At 5 foot 1, Wake mulled twice, and we thought he was out of it. But the third time he got over finely with a good inch to spare. It got precious ticklish after this; and no one said a word till each Jump was done: and then we let out. Violet stood up and looked as if she'd got a ten-pound note on the event. At 5 foot 3 Barnworth came a cropper; and I fancy he must have screwed his foot. Anyhow, he had to sit a minute before he tried again. Then he went over like a shot--and you may guess we yelled. Five foot 3. Both of them mulled the first--but Barnworth cleared easily second shot. We fancied Wake would too, but he missed both his other chances, and so got out of it. Awfully good jump this for a Fifth-form chap.

"Barnworth pulled himself together after that, and cleared the 5 foot 3 and 5 foot 4 first go. Then came the tug. The bar went up to 5 4, Smedley's jump, and you might have heard a fly cough. We were pretty nervous, I can tell you, and it would have done you good to see Violet standing up and holding her breath. Barnworth was the only chap that didn't seem flurried. Smedley and Marky both looked blue, and poor Froggy looked as if he was going to blubber.

"My wig! Daisy, if you'd heard the yell when the beggar cleared the bar first shot! Dig and I went mad; and somebody had to clout us on the head before we could take it in that the fun wasn't over. Of course it was not. _Pas un morceau de il_--we'd tied them; but we'd still to lick them.

"'Bravo, Barnworth,' yells Violet. 'Go it, old kangaroo,' howls Dig.

'Take your time and tuck in that shoe-lace,' says Marky. 'A million to one on our man,' says I; and then up goes the bar to 5 foot 5; and then you could have heard a caterpillar wink. Old Barnworth looked a little green himself this time; and didn't seem in a hurry to begin. He m.u.f.fed his first jump, and we all thought the game was up. But no! The beggar hopped over second time as easily as I could hop 3 feet. My word, it was a hop! Dig stood on his head and I could have done so too, only Violet was looking. She was no end glad. _Elle est une brique et une demie_! So's Smedley; for though it was his jump was beaten, he cheered as loud as anybody. I forgive him the licking he gave me last term.

Marky made a regular a.s.s of himself, he was so pleased. Every one wanted Barnworth to go on, but he wouldn't, as he had a race to come on.

"Then came the Sh.e.l.l hurdles, 120 yards, ten flights. Dig and I were in, and had to beat 19 seconds. I felt jolly miserable, I can tell you, at the start, and that a.s.s Dig made it all the worse by fooling about just to show off, and making believe to spar at me, when he was shaking in his shoes all the time; Marky wasn't much better, for he came and said, 'You'll have to run your very best to win it.' As if we didn't know that! He don't deserve a testimonial for doing a thing like that. Next that a.s.s Smedley went and made up to Violet just when she wanted to back us up, and I don't believe she saw a bit of the race till the finish. It was enough to make any chap blue. Then monsieur started us, and kept us waiting a whole minute (it seemed like an hour) while the second hand of his wretched watch was getting round. And then he started us in such a rotten way that it wasn't till I saw Dig running that I took in we were off, and coming up to the first hurdle. But soon the fellows began to yell, and I felt better.

"Dig had the pull of me at the start, but I got up to him at the third hurdle. He missed a step in landing, and that put him out, and we went over the fourth and fifth neck and neck. Then I saw Violet stand up, out of the corner of my left eye; and Smedley began to look at us too.

After that it was all right. At the sixth hurdle we both rose together, and then I heard a crack and a grunt behind me, and knew poor old Dig had come a cropper. Of course I had no time to grin, as I had my time to beat. But it was very lonely doing those next three hurdles. I didn't know how I was going, only I could swear I'd been twenty seconds long before I got to the eighth. I nearly mulled the ninth, and lost a step after the jump. That made me positive I'd not beaten my time; and I had half a mind to pull up, I was so jolly miserable. However, the fellows were still yelling, so I pulled myself together and went at the last hurdle viciously and got clean over, and then put it on all I could to the winning-post. I guessed I'd done it in thirty seconds, and wished there was a pit I could tumble into at the end.

"Then Marky came and patted me on the back. 'Splendid, old fellow,'

said he. 'How do you mean?' said I; 'ain't I licked into a c.o.c.ked hat?'

'You've done it in nineteen seconds,' said he. 'Go on!' said I. And then the other fellows came up and cheered, and then Violet called out, 'Bravo, Herapath,' and Ainger said, 'Run indeed, young 'un.' So I had to believe it; and I can tell you I was a bit pleased. _J'etais un morceau plaise_.

"I was sorry for old Dig, but he won the Sh.e.l.l wide jump directly afterwards. I made a mess of the half-mile. I ought to have got it from Smythe, of the School-house; but all I could do was to dead heat his time. I suppose I was f.a.gged after the hurdles. Tilbury had it all his own way with the Sh.e.l.l cricket-ball, and Stafford got the senior throw. Felgate was in against him--rather a decent chap, one of our prefects; had me to tea in his room the other day. He and Marky don't hit it. He was lazy, and didn't bother himself. Fellows said he could easily have licked the School record if he'd tried; but he didn't; and Stafford missed it by a few inches. So that event we lost. Jolly sell, _joli vendre_.

"Never mind, we got the mile, and that was the crackest thing of all.

We had to beat Smedley and Brans...o...b.., both--only Brans...o...b..--he's Bickers's prefect--didn't run it out last week. Smedley's time was 4.50. Ainger and Stafford ran for us; and Ranger was put on the track with 200 yards start to force the pace.

"Stafford was out of it easily; but Ranger stuck to it like a Trojan.

The first lap he was still a hundred yards to the good, and going like steam. Ainger ran finely, and overhauled him gradually. Still he had about twenty yards to the good at the beginning of the last lap. Then it was fine to see Ainger tuck in his elbows and let himself out. A quarter of a mile from home Ranger was clean out of it, regularly doubled up; but Ainger kept on steadily for a couple of hundred yards.

"Then, my word, he spurted right away to the finis.h.!.+ You never saw such a rush up as it was! The fellows _yelled_, I can let you know. Every one knew that it was our event the second the spurt began, and when he got up to the tape and '4.42' was shouted out, it was a sight to see the state we were in. It's the best mile we ever did at Grandcourt, and even Smedley, though he was a bit riled, I fancy, at his licking, said he couldn't have done it in the time if he'd tried.

"I send you Dig's programme, with the times all marked. You'll see we won them all except the senior cricket-ball, half-mile, and senior hundred. It's a rattling good score for us, I can tell you; and we cheered Marky like one o'clock. It was an awful sell Violet couldn't give away our prizes; but she s.h.i.+ed at it. I suppose old Pony would have gruffed at her. She is the most beautiful girl in the world.

"You needn't go telling the _mater_, but I was off my feed a whole day after the sports. How soon do fellows get money enough to marry? If I get the Swift Scholars.h.i.+p I shall have 20 a-year for three years-- something to start with. I wish you'd come down and give me a leg-up.

I'm afraid that cad Smedley's got his eye on her. His father's only a doctor. We're better off than that, besides being chummy with a baronet. Hullo! there's the bell for cubicles. Ta, ta. _Je suis tres miserable_. Your aff. A.H."

Little dreaming of the sad blight which had come over his future young kinsman's life, Railsford was sitting in his room that Sunday evening, feeling rather more than usually comfortable. He had some cause to be pleased. His house had done better than anyone expected. They had beaten all the records but three, and, without being specially conceited, Railsford took to himself the credit of having done a good deal to bring about this satisfactory result.

"Curious," said he to himself, "that in all probability, if that affair of Bickers's had not happened, we might never have risen as a house; indeed, it's almost a mercy the culprit has never been discovered, for we should have then been plunged back into the current, and the work of pulling ourselves together might never have been done. It's odd that, as time goes on, there is not even a hint or a suspicion who did it.

There's only one boy in the house I'm not sure of, and he is too great a coward to be a ruffian. Well, well, we have the cricket season and the exams, coming on. If only we do as well in them as we've done in the sports, it will not be altogether against us if the mystery remains a mystery a little longer."

Whereupon the door opened and Mr Bickers stepped in. Railsford had completely forgotten the episode in the fields the previous day; he scarcely recollected that Mr Bickers had been present at the sports, and was delightfully oblivious to the fact that he, Railsford, had either slighted or offended his colleague. He wondered what was the occasion of the present visit, and secretly resolved to keep both his temper and his head if he could.

"Good-evening," said he, with a friendly smile. "I'm just going to have my coffee; won't you have a cup too, Bickers?"

Mr Bickers took no notice of this hospitable invitation, but closed the door behind him and said, "I want a few words with you, Mr Railsford."