Tom, Dick and Harry Part 45

"Why don't you dry your clothes?" fell on our ears.

"Yah--we dare you to come down and have your noses pulled!" shouted we.

"We dare you to come up and have your hair curled!" shouted they.

We accepted the invitation, and stormed the hill. The battle was short and sharp. We were fifteen to ten, and had a grievance. I found myself engaged with d.i.c.ky Brown, who, though he did himself credit, was hampered by a scathelful of stones, which he fondly hoped might turn out to be fossils, on his back. I grieve to say I made mincemeat of d.i.c.ky on this occasion. In a few minutes the hill was ours, and the enemy in full retreat.

We remained a short time to celebrate our victory, and then adjourned to the school, a little solaced in our spirits.

The day's troubles, however, were not over, for at the door of Sharpe's house, reinforced by half a dozen recruits, stalked the Urbans, thirsting for reprisals, and longing to wipe out scores.

Then ensued a notable battle. We failed to dislodge the enemy by a forward attack, and for some time it seemed as if our flank movements would be equally unsuccessful. At length, by a great effort, we succeeded in cutting off a few of them from the main body, and were applying ourselves to the task of annihilating the rest when Tempest appeared on the scene.

He looked f.a.gged and hara.s.sed, and was evidently not much interested in our battle. A row was now too common a thing in Sharpe's to be an event, and he allowed it to proceed with complete unconcern.

Just, however, as he was taming to enter the house, Mr Jarman came up.

It was almost the first time we had met officially since our encounter in the magistrate's room, and as with one accord we ceased hostilities and stared at him, one or two of the more audacious of our party indulged in a low hiss.

"Come in, you fellows, at once," said Tempest, turning on his heel.

"Wait, you boys," said Mr Jarman, taking out his pencil. "Wait, Tempest."

But Tempest did not wait, nor did we, but made a deliberate rush into our house, and in less than a minute were safely stowed away in our several studies, secure from all immediate arrest.

It was an act of open rebellion such as Sharpe's had not yet ventured on. There was no excuse that any of us had not heard the order. We had, and had disobeyed it. And in the present instance Tempest had headed us. What would be the consequence?

We were not destined to know till next morning, when a notice appeared on the board stating that Mr Sharpe's house having been reported for riotous conduct and disobedience to orders, the head master would meet the boys in the hall at eleven o'clock.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

HALTING BETWEEN TWO OPINIONS.

There was no mistaking the doctor's meaning this time. Sharpe's had had a long rope, but had come to the end of it at last. I would not for the world have confessed it at the time, but I was half glad a crisis had come. My conscience had smitten me more than once about my work. I had fooled away the good chance with which I had entered Low Heath. Fellows far below me in scholars.h.i.+p had got ahead of me by force of steady plodding, while I was wasting my time. The good resolutions which I had brought up with me had one by one fallen overboard, and I had been content enough to take my place among the rowdies without an effort.

I had counted all through on Tempest's backing up. If he had been keen on the credit of the house, I felt I could have been so too. If he had been down on me for my neglect of work, I felt I should have stuck to it. As it was, slackness reigned supreme. Tempest was slack because he was out of humour. Pridgin was slack because he was lazy. Wales was slack because he wanted to be in the fas.h.i.+on. And all of us were slack because our betters set us the example. It needs no little courage for a single boy to attempt to stem the drift of slackness in a school house. A dull, dogged boy like d.i.c.ky Brown might have done it; but I could not afford to be peculiar, and therefore succ.u.mbed, against my judgment, to the prevalent dry rot.

Now that a crisis had come I hoped Tempest might, if not for his own sake, for ours, pull up, and take his house in hand, as he well could do if he chose. A short conversation I overheard as I was f.a.gging in his study that morning, however, was not encouraging.

"What's it to be," said Wales, "a lecture or a row?"

"A row, I hope," said Tempest wearily.

"What's wrong, old chap?" asked Pridgin.

"Nothing. Out of curl, that's all," said Tempest, trying to a.s.sume a laugh.

"You're not going to cave in to Jarman at this time of day," said Wales, "are you?"

"Do you think it likely?" said Tempest.

"I tell you what I don't like," said Pridgin presently; "that's the way Crofter's lately taken to do the virtuous."

"That's not the worst of him," said Wales; "but he's been chumming up with Jarman. I've met them twice lately walking together."

"I suppose he's got his eye on the heads.h.i.+p of the house," said Tempest, "when I get kicked out."

"Look here, old chap," responded Pridgin, looking really anxious, "it's not to come to that, surely. It would be intolerable to have him over us. Come what will, you must stick to us."

"All very well," said Tempest dismally; "that's England's affair more than mine. If knuckling under to Jarman is a condition, I'm out of it, and Crofter is welcome to it."

This was all; and it was bad enough. When the summons to a.s.semble in hall came, I went there in a state of dejection, feeling that the fates were all against me, and that the new leaf I hoped for was several pages further on yet.

My fellow-Philosophers, I regret to say, neither shared in nor appreciated my forebodings.

"Look at that a.s.s Sarah, trying to look virtuous," said Trimble. "Just like him, when there's a row on."

"I'm not trying to look virtuous," said I; "I'm sick of all these rows, though."

"Pity you aren't sick when you're getting us into them, instead of after. You know you've been at the bottom of every row there's been on this term."

This sweeping statement was not calculated to allay my discomfort.

"Don't tell lies," said I.

"No more we are. Who got us into that mess at Camp Hill Bottom? Sarah did. Who landed us in the row about Jarman's guy? Old Sarah. Who played the fool with that barge and got us all licked? Cad Sarah. Who started the s.h.i.+ndy last night that's fetched us all in here? Lout Sarah. Who's going to be expelled? Howling Sarah. And who'll be a jolly good riddance of bad rubbish? Chimpanzee Sarah. There you are.

Make what you like of it, and don't talk to us."

This tirade took my breath away. I knew it said more than it meant.

Still, it wasn't flattering, and it taxed my affection sorely to sit quietly and hear it out. But, somehow, to-day I was too anxious and worried to care much what anybody said.

Fortunately the entrance of the doctor, Mr Sharpe, and Mr Jarman, made further discussion for the time being unnecessary--and a gloomy silence fell over the a.s.sembly.

Dr England was evidently worried. Secretly, I believe, he was bored by the whole affair, and wished Mr Sharpe and his prefects could manage the affairs of their own house. Perhaps, too, the fact that Mr Jarman was once more the complainant had something to do with his lack of humour.

"Now, boys," said he, "this is an unusual and unpleasant interview, and I heartily wish it were not necessary. When a whole house is reported for rowdiness, it shows, I'm afraid, that the sense of duty to the school is in a bad way. This is not the first occasion this term on which this house has been reported, but I have previously refrained from interfering, in the hope that the good feeling of the boys themselves would a.s.sert itself and make any action of mine unnecessary. I am sorry it has not been so. As to the scrimmage in the quadrangle yesterday, I am not disposed to make too much of that; at any rate, that weighs less with me than what I understand to have been a deliberate act of disobedience to the master, who quite properly interfered to restore order; disobedience, I am sorry to say, encouraged, if not instigated, by the head boy of the house. I hope there may be some mistake about this. Will the boys who were engaged in the fight stand up?"

The Philosophers rose to a man, with a prompt.i.tude which was almost aggressive. Bother it all, why should we be backward in admitting that we had gone for those day boys, and "put them to bed" for once?

"I ask you boys to say whether you heard Mr Jarman tell you to wait till he spoke to you?"

"I did, sir," said Langrish.

"So did I," said Trimble.

"We all did," said I.