The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 67

"Stand still, and listen again," said Wraysford; "we may be going all wrong."

It was all he could do to keep the younger boy still for a few seconds.

What ages those seconds seemed!

A voice somewhere? No, only Mr Rastle and Roach coming up behind.

"Well?" inquired the master, breathlessly.

"Hus.h.!.+" said Stephen, turning his head to the wind to listen.

What a wind it was! Surely it would beat any voice to shreds!

"We may as well go on," said the boy, impatiently.

"Wait a second or two longer," said Wraysford.

Scarcely had he spoken when, joyous sound! there came on the wind from somewhere what sounded like a feeble shout!

In an instant all four bounded forward and were once more lost in the storm.

But they had hope, and every moment, a night like this, was precious.

They groped down the garden walk, and towards the meadow, shouting as they went. Then presently they halted again and listened.

Yes there was the call again, and nearer. Thank Heaven! they were on the right track. On they went once more. Another shout! Nearer still!

Oh, for a lull in the tempest, that they might give one shout back!

"Try," said Mr Rastle, "they may hear it. Here, Roach, come and shout--one, two, three, and a--"

What a shout it was! The wind got hold of it as if it had been a sparrow's twitter, and tossed it mockingly over their heads and far away behind them, who knows where? "It's no go," said Wraysford. "Hullo, here's the meadow ditch. Hadn't we better follow it up and down?

Stephen and I will take the left."

Once more, as they turned, a shout!

"Oh, be quick!" cried Stephen. "Where does it come from? Come, Wray, quick!"

They might as well have tried to fly as run against that wind; but they crawled rapidly forward.

Suddenly, close at their side, rose the shout again. With a bound the two boys were over the ditch, and in another moment a fourfold shout proclaimed that the wanderers were found!

Oliver and Loman were crouching under a tree, the former without coat or waistcoat, which he had thrown round the s.h.i.+vering and now senseless form of his companion.

It was no time for words, either of joy or explanation; time enough for that when every one was safe indoors. Mr Rastle and Roach between them carried Loman, while Oliver, in scarcely better plight, was helped along by his brother and friend.

"Is it far?" he asked, faintly.

"No, old man; that light there is Saint Dominic's."

"Is it? I didn't know that when I shouted; I thought we were miles away."

"Oh, no! Hold up, old boy; we're just there."

And so this strange procession returned before the wind to Saint Dominic's, and when, a few minutes later, watchers and rescuers and rescued all gathered in the Doctor's study, Oliver, as well as Loman, was insensible.

It was some days before the true story of that terrible night could be told, and then Oliver only told it briefly.

Late in the afternoon, as he was about to turn back, he said, he heard from a farmer's boy that he had seen a stranger that morning asleep under a hedge about a mile off. Vague as this information was, it decided Oliver at once to go forward, which he did. As might have been expected, there was no trace of the "stranger" at the hedge, and no amount of searching along it could discover any clue. Still, he did not like to turn back while a chance remained. He went on towards Grandham, inquiring of everybody and looking everywhere.

At last--it was getting dusk--he entered a field across which ran a footpath which led direct to Grandham Green. He was half way across, wondering if he could by any chance find a cart or vehicle of any kind to drive him back to Saint Dominic's, when at the other side of the field he suddenly caught sight of a figure getting up from under the hedge and moving quickly away. He instantly and instinctively gave chase. The other, seeing he was discovered, began to run too. It was Loman. Oliver called to him to stop, but he paid no heed. He continued to run as long as he could, and then, like a hunted animal, turned at bay.

Oliver told very few all that had pa.s.sed when finally he did come up with the wanderer. His first impression, judging from the unhappy boy's strange and excited manner, was that he had gone out of his mind. He appeared reckless and desperate at first, and determined to resist all attempts to bring him back. He would sooner die than go back to Saint Dominic's, he said. What right had Oliver to interfere with him and dog him in this way? He had a right to go where he chose, and no one should stop him. Oliver let him talk on, not attempting to reply, and avoiding all appearance of using force to detain him.

This wise policy had its effect. In time the poor fellow, who was really suffering more from hunger and fatigue (he had not had a morsel of food since the afternoon before) than from anything else, quieted down, and gave up further resistance. Oliver told him, in as few words as he could, of the distress which his disappearance had caused at Saint Dominic's and to his parents, and besought him to return quietly, promising forgiveness for the past, and undertaking that all would be made right if he would only come home.

Loman listened to all doggedly. "You're humbugging me!" he said. "You know I stole that paper?"

"Oh, don't talk of that!" cried Oliver. "Do come back!"

"You know--can't you get me something to eat?"

As he said this he sunk down with a groan upon the gra.s.s. Oliver started wildly to rush to the nearest cottage. As he did so, however, a doubt crossed his mind, and he said, "You'll promise to wait here, will you?"

"Oh, yes! be quick."

Oliver flew on the wings of the wind towards the village. There was a cottage a few hundred yards away. As he neared it, he cast one look back. The wretched boy was on his feet, hurrying away in an opposite direction.

Another chase ensued, though only a short one. For Loman was in no condition to hold out long. Oliver half led, half dragged him to Grandham, where at last he procured food, which the unhappy fugitive devoured ravenously. Then followed another talk, far more satisfactory than the last. Restored once more in body and mind, Loman consented without further demur to accompany Oliver back to Saint Dominic's, but not before he had unburdened his mind of all that was on it.

Oliver implored him not to do it now, to wait till he got back, and then to tell all to his father, not to him. But the poor penitent was not to be put off. Until he had confessed all he would not stir a foot back to the school.

Then Oliver heard all that sad story with which the reader is now familiar. How that first act of fraud about the rod had been the beginning of all this misery. How Cripps had used his advantage to drive the boy from one wickedness and folly to another--from deceit to gambling, from gambling to debt, from debt to more deceit, and so on.

How drinking, low company, and vicious habits had followed. How all the while he was trying to keep up appearances at the school, though he saw that he was gradually becoming an object of dislike to his fellows. How he had staked everything--his whole hope of getting free from Cripps--on the result of the Nightingale examination; and how, when the critical moment came, he yielded to the tempter and stole the paper.

"And you can fancy how punished I was when, after all, the Doctor missed the paper and altered the questions, Greenfield. I was so taken aback that I didn't even answer as well as I could. And then I lost the paper I had stolen--couldn't find it anywhere, and for weeks I was in constant terror lest it should turn up. Then I saw the fellows were all suspecting you to be the thief, and you know how meanly I took advantage of that to hide my own guilt. Oh, Greenfield, what a wretch, what a miserable wretch I have been!"

"Poor fellow!" said Oliver, with true sympathy. "But, I say, do let's be going back, it's getting late, and looks as if it might rain."

"I _must_ tell you the rest, Greenfield, please. You're the only fellow I can tell it to. Somehow I think if I'd had a friend like you all the last year I shouldn't have gone wrong as I have. How I used to envy you and Wraysford, always together, and telling one another your troubles!

Well, of course, after the Nightingale exam, things were worse than ever. I'd given Cripps a bill, you know, a promise to pay in September.

I don't know anything about bills, but he made me sign it. Of course I couldn't pay when it came due, and had to make all sorts of excuses and tell all sorts of lies to get him to give me more time; as if I was more likely to pay later on than then! But, somehow, if I could only get the thing off my mind for the present, I felt that was all I cared about.

He gave in at last, and I was able to pay it off bit by bit. But I was in constant terror all that term of his coming up to Saint Dominic's.

You know he did come once, at the football match against Landfield, and I thought I was done for."

Here Loman paused a moment, and Oliver, seeing that he was determined to tell his story to the end, waited patiently till he continued.

"Then there was that Waterston exam. I fancied I might get that if I worked. a.s.s that I was to think, after all my wasted time and sin, I had any chance against you or Wraysford! I tried to work, but soon gave it up, and went on going down to the c.o.c.kchafer instead, to keep Cripps in good humour, till I was quite a regular there. You know what a fearful hash I made of the exam. I could answer nothing. That very day Cripps had sent up to threaten to tell the Doctor everything unless I paid what I still owed. I had paid off all the bill but eight pounds.

I had got some of it from home, and some of it by gambling; I'd paid off all but eight pounds. You know, Greenfield, who lent me that."