Tom, Dick and Harry Part 61

"Don't be too sure of that," said I. "d.i.c.ky Brown doesn't go muckers if he can help it."

"There you are--backing the town cads now. I move, and Mrs Jones seconds, that Sarah be, and is hereby, kic--I mean sat upon by the club."

"Oh, don't, please," said my mother, "the bed is not strong enough."

"All right--it's lucky for Sarah. If you were half a chap you'd see we didn't lose the Quarter-mile. Rackstraw will have a look in at it, but it'll puzzle him to beat Flitwick. Walsh is going to cut out for him.

So we may just do it; but it'll be a go--eh, paupers?"

Rackstraw and Walsh both protested there would be no difficulty about it if only the track was in good order, and their wind held out, and Flitwick muddled his start, and finished a yard or two behind. We were all prepared to stake the glory of Sharpe's on these trifling conditions.

Presently the preparation bell began to toll, and the party broke up with a cordiality and cheerfulness which contrasted strangely with the solemnity with which it had begun. My mother was politely requested to become an honorary member of the club, and as politely consented, expressing a hope that she might meet with its honourable members many times again.

When they had gone she told me how much she had enjoyed the evening, and how she liked every one of them, and hoped they wouldn't think her rude to have laughed now and then, but really, she said, not being used to it, she could not help it.

Next day she left, and, dismally enough, I made the first use of my liberty to accompany her in the fly to the station. She talked to me, as only she could, about the future, and the spirit in which she thought I would take up once more the work of the term and the thankfulness which she the widow, and I the orphan, could not help feeling to the Heavenly Father, who had saved us both from such peril and sorrow in the past. She urged me to show my grat.i.tude for my escape, by seeking to follow more closely in the footsteps of that Saviour to whom she had so often taught me to look for help and guidance, and at the same time she urged me to pray for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Her goodness only made my sorrow at parting the greater; and more than any time since I had entered Low Heath, the pangs of home-sickness fell upon me as I saw her into her carriage.

Just before the train started I felt my heart beat suddenly, and the blood rush to my cheeks, as I saw a figure, with one hand in a sling, running up the platform, looking into one carriage after another.

"Mother, here's Tempest!"

Next moment he saw us, and ran up.

"I heard you were going by this train," said he, "and I thought I would like to say good-bye."

"Good-bye, my dear boy, and G.o.d bless you once more!"

"The youngster's all right again, I see," said he, putting his hand on my arm. "I'll see he takes care of himself--good-bye."

And the train steamed off, leaving us two on the platform.

"I hope your hand's not awfully bad," said I, breaking a silence of nearly three months in the only way which occurred for the moment.

"Rather not. We'd better cab it back--you're not up to walking yet."

"Thanks awfully, Tempest, for saving--"

"Look here, don't let's get on to that," said he.

"I say," said I, "I was afraid you believed what Crofter said, and thought--"

"You were an a.s.s, Tommy--you always were--I ought to have remembered it.

Of course I never believed a word Crofter said--I saw his game. But I was idiot enough to get riled at you for giving yourself away to him.

I'm sorry. Now let's forget it. After all, it was the best thing for me that all that row about my bills came out when it did. You did me a better turn than you meant to do. Just like you--if you try to do things the right way, it's all up with everybody. But if you do them your own way, they manage to come round somehow."

"But Crofter's done you out of the captaincy."

"So much the better--I didn't deserve it. I'll get it back some day perhaps, and work it better. Come in to me to tea. Redwood's coming, and old d.i.c.ky, too."

"But you're against Redwood for the Mile," said I.

"That's no reason why I shouldn't give him a cup of tea, is it, you young mule?"

The way he said it, and the grip of his hand on my arm, satisfied me that all was square once more between me and my dear old Dux.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

A DEAD HEAT.

The few weeks during which I had been laid up had witnessed some curious changes in Low Heath--at least, they seemed curious to me, dropping, as I did, suddenly into them.

First of all, we poor "Sharpers" were all burnt out. The f.a.ggery was no more, nor was the hall, or the dormitory. We were being put up temporarily in a town house just outside the school gates, a good deal to the wrath of some of our number, who felt it was putting them down to the level of the day boys. However, the sight of the scaffolding round our old quarters, and the cheery clink of the trowel, reminded us that out exile was not for long, and that in a brand-new f.a.ggery, on brand- new chairs, and round a brand-new table, we should shortly resume our pleasant discussions on the deepest questions with which the human mind can occupy itself.

Somehow, apart from the fire, things weren't going exactly as I had left them. Pridgin was reported to be working hard--a most alarming symptom.

It was commonly surmised that he could not stand playing second or third fiddle to Crofter; and as Tempest was apparently content to be second, Pridgin had come to the painful conclusion that the only comfortable place for him in Sharpe's was Number One. It was extremely inconvenient all round; for it made it necessary for Crofter to bestir himself, while of course it seemed to threaten Tempest's chance of recovering his place.

A few of the shrewdest held that Pridgin was merely forcing the pace in order to punish Crofter for his usurpation. It may have been so; but, whatever the motive, it quite upset the normal flow of things at Sharpe's.

Another change was a marked reaction of public opinion in favour of Tempest and against Crofter. This was probably due, in the first place, to Tempest's exploit in rescuing me from the fire; and secondly, to Crofter's caution in declining to enter for the Mile race at the coming Sports. A few weeks had dispelled the little glamour which the latter had derived from his apparently public-spirited conduct last term, and the att.i.tude of the Philosophers had effectually deprived him of any opportunity of exercising his authority, and left him to the enjoyment of an altogether barren honour.

One other change was that Tempest's necessity to live very economically in order to repay his grandfather for advances made, had produced a coolness between him and Wales, who had now retired from the triumvirate, and attached himself to the cause of Crofter.

Lastly, Mr Jarman had suffered a shock, and taken on badly about his accidental part in the recent fire. It had knocked all the vice out of him, for the time being at any rate, and left him quite meek and limp.

Just now, however, the only topic about which any one cared was, as I speedily discovered, the Sports.

Unusual keenness was being displayed everywhere. The seniors were deeply concerned in the issue of the Mile. Would Redwood, who had hitherto held his own easily, save his laurels this time? Would Tempest, with his damaged hand, be able to run his hardest? Would any dark horse, at the last moment, enter to divide the interest? And so on.

Among the middle boys considerable excitement was afoot, especially in Selkirk's house, where it was reported a boy of fifteen and a half was going to beat the senior record in the Jump, and perhaps run the public school record very close.

But the chief excitement was among us juniors. We had modestly set before ourselves the task of winning every event under fifteen for Sharpe's house, to say nothing of pulling the day boys over the chalk in the Tug of War, and generally bringing the Philosophers well before the public notice. The secret of our intention had been well-kept till within a week of the day. We had been taunted with s.h.i.+rking our sports, with being "mugs" and "crocks" and "cripples," with exercising the better part of valour, with being afraid of being laughed at, and so forth. But we heard all with a conscious wink, and went on with our practice round the corner. Then, a week from the day, we literally pelted the list with our names.

Langrish put down for the High Jump, Cricket Ball, Broad Jump, and Hurdles. Warminster set down his name under d.i.c.ky Brown's for the Hundred Yards, and next to Griswold's for the Hurdles. c.o.xhead entered for the Cricket Ball against the crack thrower in Selkirk's, and Rackstraw and Walsh, n.o.ble pair of "paupers," put in for the Quarter- mile, which I was to have run against the fleet-footed Flitwick.

Altogether it was a big order, and made the other houses look a little blue, as we hoped it would.

The great day came at last--a perfect Sports day, with a light breeze blowing, the track like elastic, the takes-off clean and sharp, and the field crammed with visitors and friends. I had my work cut out for me that day. It would have been far less exertion to run the Quarter-mile.

I was to be coat-minder, time-keeper, rubber-down, straight-tipper, clapper-on-the-back, and bottle-holder to the Conversation Club at large, a sort of mixture of parent, footman, and retriever dog, which, flattering as it undoubtedly was to my sense of my own importance, promised no little anxiety and exercise before the day was done.

As I strolled down somewhat early, charged with the pleasing commission of "bagging nine seats in the middle of the front row of the stand and seeing no one collared them," I met Redwood, fresh as a daisy, just returning from a final inspection of the ground.

"Hullo, youngster, you're not running, I hear. What a pity!"

"It doesn't matter," said I. "Do you mind my not backing you for the Mile?"

He laughed, and said he should have thought poorly of me if I had not backed my own man.

"Is his hand all right now?" he asked.