The Hero of Garside School Part 40

He gave another swift glance into Hibbert's face. It seemed to smile at him, as though in answer to his prayer. "Go," it seemed to say. The next instant Paul plunged into the river, swimming towards the two boys, with the same swift stroke which had enabled him to reach Hibbert's side.

As he cut through the water, his right hand struck against something.

His fingers closed round it. It was the punting-pole that Plunger had lost, and which had been partly responsible for the accident. G.o.d had answered his prayer. He had helped him. It would have been impossible for him to have saved the two fast-drowning boys by his own unaided efforts. Now it was possible.

"Catch hold!" he cried, as he directed one end of the pole to Baldry and Plunger.

They eagerly gripped it; then, grasping the other end, Paul swam to sh.o.r.e. It was a strange freight he was towing--two human lives. And his heart seemed beating like the valve of a steam-tug as he reached the bank and pulled his freight ash.o.r.e.

"You're a brick--that's what you are, Percival!" were the first words that Plunger gasped, as he struggled, with the water dripping from him, up the bank.

Baldry's eyes had gone to the still figure lying on the gra.s.s.

"It's--it's the Camel! What--what's wrong with him?" he asked, as he stood gazing at the still form. "Is--is he dead?"

"I hope not--I think not," said Paul, as he raised the slight figure in his arms. "I must leave you fellows to look after yourselves."

So saying, holding Hibbert close to him, he hastened along the road that led to the school. Once or twice he paused to make sure that Hibbert's heart was beating. Yes; it was still beating, though feebly: having rea.s.sured himself, he hurried on again with his burden.

The road seemed longer to him than it had ever been before; but at length he drew near, and his eyes went up to the first thing that a Garside boy usually looked to--the old flag.

He could scarcely believe his eyes. Were they mocking him, or was he under a delusion? The flag did not seem to be flying there.

"My eyes are playing tricks with me," he thought as he hurried breathless into the grounds.

A few steps more and he met Stanley. He stopped and regarded Paul with surprise. He advanced a step, as though with the intention of speaking to him, but quickly changing his mind, went on his way. Paul clenched his teeth hard and staggered on with his burden. Luckily it was only a light one.

Reaching the schoolhouse door, he met Waterman coming from it.

"Percival! What are you f.a.gging with there?" For once Waterman was genuinely roused. "An accident? Why, it's young Hibbert. What's happened?"

"He's had a ducking in the river. Run for Dr. Clack--as quickly as you can."

Waterman needed no second bidding. His natural indolence of manner, under which was hidden much more energy than people gave him credit for, vanished on the instant. He darted off at the top of his speed. Paul did not relinquish his burden till, under the direction of the matron, he had placed it on a bed in the sick dormitory.

"A doctor must be fetched," said the matron, as Hibbert's eyes remained closed, in spite of her efforts to bring him back to consciousness.

"Waterman's gone for Dr. Clack."

"That's right. The poor little fellow's in a bad way. Oh, you boys--you boys!" came in a sigh from the matron's lips. "Always in mischief. Who pushed him into the river?"

"n.o.body pushed him. He fell in, so far as I could see."

Paul did not tell her that two more Gargoyles had fallen into the river at the same time, for fear of alarming her still more.

"Why didn't you stop him from playing about on the river? You're old enough to know better," said Mrs. Trounce wrathfully.

Paul stood silent under this rebuke. He had not explained all the circ.u.mstances of the accident--so far, at least, as he knew them--for fear of implicating the other boys. He had caught a glimpse of the savage "get-up" of Baldry and his companions, and the black stains on Hibbert's face, which had only been partially washed away by the water.

He guessed, therefore, that there was more in the accident than at first met the eye.

"If he dies we shall have the police here a-makin' all sorts of inquiries," continued the angry matron. "And I shouldn't wonder if they took you off to the lock-up, and brought you up before a judge and jury.

And serve you right, ses I. You elder boys want a lesson. Instead of stopping the little fellow from playing on the river, you encouraged him, I expect. I know the way you big boys have. You use the paws of the little ones to pull out the roast chestnuts. It's disgraceful, I call it."

Thus the matron poured out the vials of her wrath on Paul's head, while she busied herself at the same time in doing all she could to restore the patient to consciousness. Her words fell unheeded on Paul's ears. He was watching the face of Hibbert, and wondering whether the eyes would ever open again, and look up to him as they had looked up to him on that day when he had put his hand timidly on his shoulder and whispered:

"You look so wretched and miserable I could not help coming to you.

You're not angry with me, are you?"

CHAPTER XXVII

THE OLD FLAG

As the thought went through Paul's mind, the door opened, and Mr. Weevil entered. To Paul's wonder the master fell on his knees beside the bed, and, taking Hibbert's hand in his, murmured:

"Tim, Tim, what have they done to you? Speak, Tim."

The cold nature of the master seemed to have melted as he looked at the unconscious boy. Paul had never heard him call Hibbert by his Christian name before. The ashen lips were moving tremulously. The blinking eyes were fixed tenderly on the boy's face, and--was Paul dreaming?--he thought he saw a tear roll down the master's cheek.

"Why did I leave you to yourself? Speak, Tim, speak," came the pleading tones.

For once Mr. Weevil's self-control had given way. He was strangely moved. Paul was too moved himself at the time to take much notice, but he recalled every incident in that strange scene after. Then, as no answer came to his appeal, the master seemed to wander in his talk, and babbled words in an unknown tongue.

He was still kneeling by the bed, talking in this way, when Dr. Clack, the school doctor, entered. His face remained very grave as he examined his patient.

"It's been a very near thing with him," he said, when he had finished his examination; "but with careful nursing he may pull round."

Paul heard the news with a thankful heart, for he had begun to fear that the case was hopeless. Mr. Weevil had now quite recovered his self-possession, and, leaving the patient in the hands of the doctor and the matron, beckoned Paul to follow him to his room.

On entering it he closed the door, and questioned Paul minutely as to the cause of the accident. Paul explained to him what he had seen, the more readily because the little he had seen threw no particular blame on any one.

"And you don't know how it happened?"

"No, sir; I haven't the least idea."

"You weren't in any way concerned in it?" demanded Mr. Weevil, suddenly opening his half-closed eyes and fixing them on Paul.

Paul felt indignant. He had made as little as possible of his share in rescuing Hibbert; and as a result the master seemed to have a lurking suspicion that he was in league in some way with the boys who had caused the accident.

"No, sir, I was in no way concerned in it," he flashed back. "It was quite by chance that I was at the river-side this afternoon."

"Well, the matter must be further inquired into. It is quite certain that there is something that needs explanation."

"I know nothing about that, sir; but if you've no more questions to ask me, I'd like to change my things."

Paul's clothes had nearly dried on him. He had taken no heed of himself in thinking of Hibbert; but now that Hibbert was in bed, and in the hands of those who could take care of him, he began to think a little of his own condition, which was not altogether so comfortable as might have been desired.