The Cock-House at Fellsgarth Part 44

At the top of the ravine he shouted again; but all was still. Even the wind was dying down, and the rain fell with a deadened sob at his feet.

Three o'clock! Wisdom had told him, the day they had been up there, that the top was only three-quarters of an hour beyond where he stood.

Something still cried "Excelsior" within him, and without halting longer than to satisfy himself by another shout, he started on.

How he achieved that tremendous climb he could never say. The clouds had rolled off, and the moonlight lit up the rocks almost like day.

Never once did he pull up or flag in his ascent. He even ceased to shout.

Presently there loomed before him, gleaming in the moonlight, the cairn.

For the first time in its annals, a Fellsgarth boy had got to the top of Hawk's Pike.

But, so far from elation at the glory of the achievement, Rollitt uttered a groan of dismay when he looked round and found no one there after all. That he would find Fisher minor there he had never doubted; and now--all this had been time lost.

Without waiting to heed the glorious moonlight prospect over lake and hill, he turned almost savagely, and scrambled down the crags. It was perilous work--more perilous than the scramble up. But Rollitt did not think of danger, and therefore perhaps did not meet it. In half an hour he was down on the bog--and in an hour after, just as a faint break in the east gave warning that the night was gone, he stood bruised and panting at the foot of the gorge on the second ridge.

He was too dispirited to shout now. It had not been given to him after all to rescue his friend. He would have done better if he had never--

There was a big boulder just ahead, poised almost miraculously on its edge, on the sloping hill-side. It looked as if a moderate blast of wind would send it headlong to the bottom. But it had stood there for centuries, a shelter for sheep in winter from the snow and hail.

What made Rollitt bound now in the direction of this rock, like a man shot? Surely not to admire a natural curiosity, or to seek shelter under its wing.

No. He had found that his quest after all had not been in vain. There, curled up under the overhanging rock, lying one almost across the other for warmth, with cheek touching cheek, and Ashby's coat covering both, were Fisher minor and his chum--not dead, but sleeping soundly!

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 Cla.s.sic 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 f.a.g," 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 Sat.u.r.day?" 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 treasurers.h.i.+p. 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 would _you_ do?" 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 fas.h.i.+onable 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-f.a.gs, he would have been comparatively comfortable. But the possibility of the f.e.c.kless 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 s.h.i.+vering 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.