Just Gerry Part 22

"Green! Green! Green!"

A confused medley of shouts rose on the air, and the noise grew in volume as one by one the spectators, girls and mistresses alike, joined in. So great was the pandemonium that the referee's whistle could hardly be heard when it blew a moment later.

"What's that for? Is it a goal? Is it? Is it?" cried Vera, in an agony of excitement.

"No! It's off-side! Dorothy pa.s.sed it forward. Oh, bother! That means a free hit for them. And Alice will take it and send it miles down the field, and time's nearly up! There can't be more than three minutes left now!" cried Marjorie, dancing about the ground in her impatience.

Alice Metcalfe came forward to take the free hit. Her forwards ranged themselves far down the field, while the Pink forwards also were obliged to retrace their steps to the limit imposed upon them by the penalty. Dorothy made a penitent apology to her captain.

"I'm most fearfully sorry, Muriel," she said. "It was quite an accident, but I'm afraid it's done for us, all the same. We'll never have time to score again now."

"Never mind. We'll make one last desperate effort before the whistle goes," said Muriel encouragingly. "Look out for Alice's. .h.i.t and try and stop it if you possibly can, if it comes your way. It's our only chance!"

Whack! Alice sent the ball flying out to her right wing with a mighty "swipe," and a groan went up from the partisans of the Pink Dormitory.

That hit surely had done it! n.o.body could be expected to get in the way of such a terrific slog--Alice had excelled herself this time. The ball would inevitably go flying out of bounds, and by the time it could be recovered and thrown in again, the last three precious minutes would have sped by. Already the referee had her whistle to her lips. Once again the dormitory final would end in a draw!

But wait a moment! The Pink Dormitory's left outside, with a ribbon favour flaunting gaily on her breast, was standing right in the way of the coming ball. Gerry had watched Alice hitting it, and she knew that her chance had come. If she could stop the ball just right and centre it, there was just a chance that Muriel and Dorothy might be able to do something with it.

But could she ever stop it? The ball was coming with all the force of Alice Metcalfe's leather-bound hockey stick behind it. It needed some courage to get in the way of one of Alice's slogs! Gerry wanted to slip aside and let the ball go by. How badly she wanted to do it n.o.body but herself could ever know. Surely it wouldn't be cowardice to get out of the way of a ball like that! But her determination not to let Muriel down this time was strong within her, and she fought down the panic which urged her to step aside, and remained grimly waiting the advent of that flying ball.

The next moment a great shout went up from the spectators, friends and foes alike.

"Stopped! Oh, well stopped! Stopped, indeed!"

"My hat! That must have hurt! Did you see? It ran right up her stick and caught her on the nose. Why--_if it isn't German Gerry_!" cried Vera Davies in amazement.

It was an amazement which was shared by the rest of the school. The girls were so dumbfounded that the cheer suddenly died down, and n.o.body applauded at all when Gerry, recovering from the first stunning shock of the blow, pa.s.sed the ball to her inside wing, Dorothy Pemberton, before the Green half-backs could tackle her.

Then events moved quickly.

"Centre it, Dorothy," called Muriel, and flew to intercept the ball, which Dorothy pa.s.sed to her. Dodging, tackling, dribbling, and pa.s.sing, the head girl and her inside left carried the ball into the enemy's goal circle. And before the Green defence could recover from the unexpected onslaught, the ball was safely through their goalposts, put there by Muriel's stick. The whistle blew for goal and time simultaneously, and a perfect storm of cheering broke from the watching school. It had indeed been an exciting finish to the dormitory hockey final!

There were certain formalities to be gone through before the teams could leave the field. Alice Metcalfe, as captain of the defeated team, called for three cheers for the victors, to which Muriel had to respond by calling for three cheers for the runners-up for the Cup.

Then the rival captains had to shake hands and thank each other for the good game--a little ceremony which had existed at Wakehurst Priory since hockey matches first began, and which was never omitted.

But directly these formalities were over, and the girls who had been watching the match came flocking around the dispersing teams, cheering and asking questions and pouring out congratulations, Muriel looked about for Gerry Wilmott and hastened to her side.

"Well done, Gerry! You were splendid!" the head girl exclaimed. "It was all through you that we scored that last goal. If you hadn't stopped that free hit so pluckily, we could never have done it. I'm jolly glad I put you in to play."

Gerry's nose was bleeding badly, and it was cut and swollen from the blow she had received. Her head was aching too, and she was feeling dreadfully dazed and tired. But in spite of her injuries, the face she raised to Muriel's was a very happy one.

"I'm _awfully_ glad I managed to stop it," she said.

"I say! You did get a bang, kiddie!" said Muriel concernedly, looking down at her junior's injured nose. "You'd better come at once and let me take you to Sister. She's got some ripping stuff for bringing down bruises. If we get it seen to directly, perhaps it will save you from being quite black in the face to-morrow."

And putting her arm round Gerry's shoulder, the head girl led her off the field.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE PLUCK OF GERMAN GERRY

The head girl and her companion were joined by Monica Deane and Alice Metcalfe as they left the hockey ground. Both the seniors said nice things to Gerry about her great achievement and condoled with her upon the injury to her nose.

"I say! I am sorry," said Alice in contrition. "I suppose I ought not to have hit so hard, really. Miss Caton's always telling me that hockey isn't just a matter of hard hitting, and that I overdo the slogging part. But I never thought of anyone getting into the way of that ball. As a rule, people run for yards to get out of the way of my free hits."

"It was jolly lucky for us that Gerry _did_ get in the way," laughed Muriel. "If the ball had gone out then, we should never have had time to score that final goal."

"I ought to bear you a grudge, Gerry, for losing the Cup for my dorm,"

said Alice. "I'm afraid you've got to pay for it, though. Your nose will be black and blue to-morrow."

"Oh no, it won't," said Muriel rea.s.suringly. "I'm going to take her straight up to Sister when we get in, and get some of that wonderful lotion of hers to bathe it with. I got an awful whack on my forehead the end of last season, but when I put Sister's stuff on it the swelling went down almost at once, and it was hardly coloured at all."

"Gerry's nose will be awfully stiff and uncomfortable, though, for a day or two, however wonderful Sister's stuff may be," observed Monica.

"I don't mind," said Gerry happily. And indeed she was so relieved at having redeemed herself in the eyes of the head girl in the matter of hockey-playing, that she really would not have cared very much if her nose had been broken instead of merely bruised. She walked on down the field amongst the seniors, feeling that she would not at the moment have changed places with any other girl in the whole of Wakehurst Priory.

It was some ten minutes' walk across the hockey field back to the school. The three prefects and Gerry were well in the van of the returning girls. A few Fourth Form children were some distance ahead, but the majority of the school were descending more leisurely in the rear. Just at this moment, however, the half-dozen girls in front turned, and began running back, waving their arms and shouting as they ran.

"What on earth's the matter with those kids?" said Alice in surprise.

"Have they gone quite mad?"

"They are shouting out something," said Muriel. "Can you hear what it is? Why! There's Bennett running, too. And some other men! One of them's got a stick--no, it's a gun! They're chasing Bruno, surely.

What in the world can be the matter?"

There was an iron railing to the left of the hockey field which enclosed the hockey ground itself from the neighbouring meadows. The girls in front were running hard towards this railing, still shouting their words of warning to the approaching girls. This time they were near enough for Muriel to catch what they were saying.

"Mad dog! They're shouting out 'Mad dog!' Quick, make for the railings! Bruno's gone mad!" she cried to her companions.

She turned round and ran back towards the oncoming school, shouting out her warning. Alice and Monica followed her, and, seizing a bunch of small girls just behind, urged them towards the railings. The rest of the school had taken alarm by this time, and were making a wild dash for safety, but of the two or three hundred girls who were pouring down from the field, it was obvious that many of them could not be got out of the way in time. Besides, there was nothing to prevent Bruno from altering his course and making for the railings too. The men chasing the dog were too far behind to risk a shot with so many children about.

If they should miss the dog, they could not fail to hit one of the girls when so many of them were in the direct line of fire.

All these thoughts rushed through Muriel's mind as she tried to hurry the girls towards the railings, a.s.sisted by such of the mistresses and prefects as were near at hand. There had been many reports in the papers lately of dogs that had gone mad and bitten people, and the head girl was well aware of the terrible results that might follow a bite from an animal suffering from rabies. She knew that a mad dog bites and snaps at everything that comes in his way--and how could they hope to get all these children out of the way in time!

Very much the same thoughts had come into the mind of somebody else, too! Gerry had been seized with panic when the cry of "Mad dog!" had reached her ears, and her first instinct had been to dash towards the railings out of Bruno's way. It was not until she was nearly half-way to safety that it had dawned upon her that none of her three companions were with her, and she stopped for a moment to look round and see what they were doing.

She saw Alice and Monica hurrying some of the smaller children into safety, she saw Muriel running to warn the girls behind. Then she looked at Bruno, who was near enough for her to see him plainly now.

His mouth was wide open, his tongue was hanging out, and foam was dripping from his jaws. He looked very terrible, not in the least like the good-natured dog with whom Gerry had made friends on her first day at school.

For a moment, Gerry turned away, with a sick s.h.i.+ver of fear and repulsion. Then all at once something came into her heart, making her braver and stronger than she had ever been in her life before. Muriel was being brave. Muriel had not run like a coward towards the fence.

Why, couldn't she be brave like Muriel, too? With a sudden desperate resolve, Gerry swung round and flew straight towards the oncoming dog.

Nearly every girl and mistress in the school saw the deed by which Gerry Wilmott established herself for ever in the annals of Wakehurst Priory. The few who were absent could find plenty of eager eye-witnesses to describe it to them. It was a picture which stamped itself indelibly upon the minds of a good many of the people present--the old grey school buildings in the background, framed by the black boughs of the November trees, the wide stretch of meadowland, and in the forefront the big black dog, pursued by the shouting men, making straight for the crowd of terrified children.

Then into the very centre of the picture dashed the blue-tunicked figure of Gerry Wilmott! German Gerry! The girl who was afraid of dogs and mice and hockey b.a.l.l.s, and everything and everyone under the sun, apparently--das.h.i.+ng right in the pathway of the mad dog!

Exactly how she did it, Gerry never afterwards quite knew. In some way she managed to get behind the dog and fling herself upon him as he rushed past. She seized him by his collar and the long curly hair about his throat, throwing herself upon her knees on the ground as she did so. So powerful was he in his mad frenzy, that she was dragged along the gra.s.s for a considerable distance before she could bring him to a standstill. Then came a few moments that seemed like a lifetime of desperate struggling, while she gripped the snapping, growling dog round his throat with fingers that grew numb beneath the strain, and with stiff, taut arms held him away so that he could not spring upon her.