CHAPTER TWENTY.
A CRISIS.
The eventful day, which at the beginning of the term had seemed an ageaway, slowly but surely drew near.
This was Saturday. On Monday the examination would be over, and in aweek the competitors would know their fates!
Some of my readers may know the queer sensation one sometimes gets atthe approach of a long-looked-for and hardly-worked-for examination.For a week or so you have quietly been counting up what you _do_ know.Now there breaks upon you an awful picture of what you do _not_ know,and with it the absolute conviction that what you do not know is exactlywhat you ought to know, and what you do know is no use at all. It istoo late to do anything. You cannot get up in a day what it would takeyou a fortnight to go through. And it is not much good, now you aresure it is useless, to go over again what you have done. You begin tofeel a sort of despair, which becomes, as the hours close in, positivelyreckless. What do you care if you do miss? What's the use of botheringany more about it? It cannot be helped; why make yourself miserable?Only, you would give worlds to have the thing all over. Such at leastwere the sensations which stirred in the breasts of Oliver Greenfieldand Horace Wraysford as they sat somewhat dejectedly over their books inOliver's study that Saturday afternoon.
They had both worked hard since the holidays, generally together,neither concealing from the other what he had read or what he intendedto read. Very bad rivals were these two, for though each was intent onwinning the scholarship, each felt he would not break his heart if theother beat him, and that, as every one knows, is a most unheard-of pieceof toleration. Now, however, each felt he had had enough of it. Oliverin particular was very despondent. He slammed up his books suddenly,and said, "I give it up; it's not a bit of use going on!"
Wraysford pushed back his chair slowly, and said, not very cheeringly,"Upon my word I think you're right, Noll."
"I've a good mind," said Oliver, looking very morose, "to scratch, andleave you and Loman to fight it out."
"Don't be a jackass, Noll," replied Wraysford, half laughing. "That_would_ be a sensible thing to do!"
"All very well for you to laugh," said Oliver, his brow clouding. "Youknow you are well up and are going to win."
"I'm no better up than you are," said the other.
"You know you're going to win," repeated Oliver.
"I only wish I did," said Wraysford, with a sigh.
"Why," pursued Oliver, evidently bent on a melancholy tack, "I assureyou, Wray, I've forgotten half even of what I did know. I was goingover some of those brutal Roman History dates in bed last night, forinstance, and I positively couldn't remember one. Then I tried the mapof Greece, but I was still worse there; I couldn't remember where onesingle place was except Athens and Corinth, and I'm sure I used to bepretty well up in that."
"I expect you were half asleep at the time," suggested his friend.
"No, I wasn't; I couldn't sleep a wink. I say, Wray, _wouldn't_ it bejolly if we only knew now what the questions are going to be on Monday?"
"Why don't you go and ask the Doctor?" said Wraysford, laughing; "he'dbe delighted to tell you."
"What a humbug you are, Wray! I say, suppose we shut up work now andhave a turn on the river. I'm certain it will do us more good thancracking our skulls here."
"Just what I had been thinking. I'm game, and it can't make muchdifference."
"I suppose Loman is grinding up to the last?"
"I suppose so; I was almost in hopes he wouldn't keep it up."
"Never mind, it will all be over on Monday; that's a comfort! Comealong, old man. Suppose we get young Stee to cox us up to the lock andback."
Hue and cry was forthwith made for Stephen, but he was not to be found.He was out, Paul said; at the post, or somewhere.
"Oh, all right; you can come and cox us yourself, youngster," saidWraysford.
"Cox you!" exclaimed Paul; "why, ain't the Nightingale exam coming on,then, on Monday?"
"Of course it is!"
"And you two going out to row! I say, the Sixth will win it if youdon't look-out!" said Paul, in a very concerned voice.
It was quite a revelation to the two boys to discover how great was theinterest taken by outsiders in the coming event. Paul was in a greatstate of alarm, and was actually inclined to refuse to aid and abet whathe imagined to be a wicked waste of precious opportunity, until, puttinghis head into Loman's study, he found that the Sixth Form fellow wasalso not at work.
When Oliver and Wraysford appeared in boating flannels in the playgroundthey created as much sensation as if they had been ghosts.
"You don't mean to say you're going out, you fellows?" exclaimedRicketts, one of the idle ones of the Fifth.
"Yes, I do," said Wraysford.
"But the Nightingale, I say?"
"That's not till Monday."
"I know; but aren't you grinding for it? I say, don't let them beatyou! Hadn't you better work instead of going out?"
Ricketts, by the way, had not done a stroke of work that he couldpossibly help all the term!
All the other Fifth Form fellows they encountered echoed more or lessanxiously the same advice. But the two friends were obdurate. Threats,promises, entreaties, would not put them off their row up the river, andthey went on their way, leaving behind them an unusual gloom on thespirits of their dearest friends.
The only person who seemed really glad to see them leaving their workwas Bramble. He, with his friend Padger, and a few otherirreconcilables, were just returning from a rat-catching expedition, andthe sight of the Fifth Form heroes in boating costume filled them withjoy.
"Hullo--my eye--hurrah!" shouted Bramble, taking in the situation in amoment. "There they go! I hope they get drowned; don't you, Padger?"
Padger was understood to assent to this benevolent aspiration.
"Go it. _You'll_ get the Nightingale! I thought you would! Hope youget drowned, do you hear! Hurrah for the Sixth!"
At this juncture Master Paul gave chase, and for a few moments Brambleand his friends were too much engaged to speak; but at last, when thechase was over, and further reprisals were out of the question, the heroof the Tadpoles summoned up all his remaining powers to yell:
"Yah boo, Nightingale! Hope you get drowned! Yah!" after which he wenthis way.
The two friends paddled quietly up the river. They talked very little,but both felt relieved to be away from their books. As they went ontheir spirits rose, greatly to Paul's displeasure. That younggentleman, immoderately jealous for the glory of the Fifth, was contentas long as the two rowers remained grave and serious; he could then makehimself believe they were engaged in mental exercises favourable toMonday's examination. But as soon as they began to whistle, and chaffhim and one another, and talk of their holiday adventures, Paul becamedispleased, for they could not possibly do this and be inwardlypreparing for the examination at the same time.
However, he had to submit as best he could, and gave all his attentionto steering them carefully, so that it should be no fault of his, at anyrate, if they were prevented from showing up on the critical day.
"This old Shar isn't half such a jolly river as the Thames, is it,Wray?"
"Rather not!" replied Wraysford, resting on his oar; "and yet it'spretty enough in parts."
"Oh, up at the weir?--yes. But I'm out of love with weirs at present.I shudder every time I think of that one up the Thames."
"It wasn't pleasant, certainly," said Wraysford.
"Pleasant! Old man, if you hadn't been there it would have been a gooddeal worse than unpleasant. Poor Stee!"
"Pull your left, Greenfield senior, or you'll be into the bank!" sungout Paul.
They paddled on again until Gusset Lock came in sight. There were veryfew boats about; the season was, in fact, at an end, and the river,which a month or two ago had generally swarmed with boats just at thispart on Saturday afternoons, looked quite deserted.
"Shall we go through the lock or turn ro
und?" inquired Paul.
"May as well turn, eh, Wray?"
Paul was about to obey the order and turn the boat, when, casting hiseyes on the bank, he started suddenly to his feet and exclaimed,pointing towards the lock-house, "Hullo! I say, there's something upthere!"
The two others looked round; something more lively than usual wasundoubtedly taking place at old Mr Cripps's residence, to judge by theshouts and laughter which proceeded from the group of people assemblednear the door.
From where they were the boys in the boat could not see what the natureof the excitement was, and therefore paddled on with a view to satisfytheir curiosity.
As they came up to the lock Paul suddenly exclaimed, "That's youngGreenfield!"
"What!" said Oliver--"Stephen?"
"Yes, and--what _on earth_ are they doing to him?"
The boat being low down under the bank, it was impossible to see whatwas going on on the tow-path. Oliver, however, having once heardStephen's name, ordered Paul to put them into the opposite bank quick,where they could land.
While this was being done a shriek from the bank sent the blood suddenlyto the faces of the two friends. It was Stephen! They dashed ashore,and in a moment were across the lock and on the spot. The spectaclewhich met their eyes as they came up was a strange one. The centralfigure was the luckless Stephen, in the clutches of three or fourdisreputable fellows, one of whom was Cripps the younger, who, with loudlaughter at the boy's struggles and brutal unconcern at his terror, werehalf dragging, half carrying him towards the water's edge.
Beside them stood Loman, flushed, excited, and laughing loudly. PoorStephen, very unlike himself, appeared to be utterly cowed andterrified, and uttered shriek upon shriek as his persecutors dragged himalong.
"Oh, don't! Please, Cripps! Don't let them, Loman--don't let themdrown me!" he shouted.
A laugh was the only answer.
It was at this moment, and just when, to all appearances, the boy wasabout to be thrown into the water, that Oliver and Wraysford appeared onthe scene.
Their appearance was so sudden and unexpected that the fellows, eventhough they did not know who the two boys were, were momentarily takenaback and dropped their prey.
With a bound Oliver sprang furiously on Cripps, who happened to benearest him, and before that respectable gentleman knew where he was,had dealt him a blow which sent him staggering back in the utmost alarmand astonishment. Wraysford, no less prompt, tackled one of the otherblackguards, while Stephen, now released, and cured of his momentaryterror by the appearance of the rescuers, did his share manfully withone of the others.
The contest was short and sharp. A pair of well-trained athleticschoolboys, with a plucky youngster to help them, are a match any dayfor twice the number of half-tipsy cads. In a minute or two the fieldwas clear of all but Cripps, who appeared, after his short experience,by no means disposed to continue the contest single-handed. As forLoman, he had disappeared.
"What is all this?" demanded Oliver, when at last, breathless and palewith excitement, he could find words.
"Oh, Noll!" cried Stephen, "I'll tell you all about it. But let's getaway from here."
"No, I won't go!" shouted Oliver--"not till I know what it all means.You fellow!" added he, walking up to Cripps, "you'd better speak or I'llthrash you!"
Mr Cripps, who had had time to recover somewhat from his firstsurprise, looked a little inclined to defy his young antagonist, but,thinking better of it, suddenly assumed his usual impudent swagger as hereplied, with a laugh, "Come, I say, you _do_ do it well, you do! Itwas a joke--just a joke, young gentleman. You've no occasion to flurryyourself; we wouldn't have hurt a hair of the young gentleman's head.Ask Mr Loman."
"Where's Loman?" demanded Oliver. "Gone," said Stephen. "But I say,Noll, do come away. I'll tell you all about it. Do come."
Cripps laughed. "Don't you swallow all that young swell tells you.He's a nice boy, he is, but--well, he'd better mind what he says, that'sall!"
"Do come away!" once more entreated Stephen.
"Yes, do come away," laughed Cripps, mimicking the boy's tones. "When Icalls up at the school I'll let them all know what a nice young prig heis, coming down and drinking at my public-house and then turning roundon me. Never fear! _I'll_ let them know, my beauties! I'll have atalk with your Doctor and open his eyes for him. Good-bye, you sneakingyoung--"
"Look here!" said Wraysford, quietly walking up to the blackguard in themidst of this discourse, "if you don't stop instantly you'll be sorryfor it."
Cripps stared a moment at the speaker, and at the first he held out.Then, without another word, he turned on his heel into the cottage,leaving the three boys standing in undisputed possession of thetow-path.
"Come on, how, old man!" said Wraysford; "we can't do any good bystaying here."
Oliver looked disposed to resist, and cast a glance at the cottage doorby which Cripps had just vanished. But he let himself be persuadedeventually, and turned gloomily towards the boat. Here Paul, who hadbeen a witness of the _fracas_ on the tow-path, was waiting, ready tosteer home, and bursting with curiosity to hear all Stephen had to say.
Greatly to his disgust, Oliver said, peremptorily, "You'll have to walkhome, Paul; Stephen will steer."
"Why, you said I might steer."
Oliver was in no humour for an argument, so he gave Paul a light box onhis ears and advised him to go home quietly unless he wanted athrashing, and not say a word to any one about what had occurred.
Paul had nothing for it but sulkily to obey, and walk back. At last theothers got on board and put off homeward.
"Now," said Oliver, presently, resting on his oar and bending forwardtowards Stephen.
"Oh, Noll!" began that unhappy youngster, "I am so very, very sorry! itwas all--"
"None of that," angrily interrupted the elder brother. "Just tell mehow it came about."
Stephen, quite cowed by his brother's angry manner, told his storyshortly and hurriedly.
"Why," he said, "you know I promised you never to go to the Cockchaferagain, and I didn't, but I thought I ought to see Cripps and give himback the bicycle-lamp."
"Young muff!" ejaculated his brother.
"So," pursued Stephen, still more falteringly, "I thought I'd come upthis afternoon."
"Well, go on, can't you?" said Oliver, losing his temper at the poorboy's evident uneasiness.
"Cripps asked me into the cottage, and there were some fellows there,smoking and drinking and playing cards."
"Was Loman one of them?" put in Wraysford.
"I think so," said poor Stephen, who had evidently started his story inthe hope of keeping Loman's name quiet.
"_Think_ so, you young cad!" cried Oliver. "Why can't you tell thetruth straight out? Was he there or not?"
"Yes, he was. I did mean to tell the truth, Noll, really, only--onlythere's no need to get Loman in a row."
"Go on," said Oliver.
"They made fun of me because I wouldn't smoke and play with them. Youknow I promised mother not to play cards, Noll. I didn't mind that,though, but when I wanted to go away they--that is, Cripps--wouldn't letme. I tried to get away, but he stopped me, and they said they'd makeme play."
"Who said? Did Loman?" inquired Oliver, again. "Why--yes," saidStephen falteringly, "he and the rest. They held me down in a chair,and made me take hold of the cards, and one of them opened my mouth andshouted beastly words down into it--ugh!"
"Was that Loman?"
"No," said Stephen, relieved to be able to deny it.
"What did he do?" demanded Oliver.
"They all--"
"What did Loman do, I say?" again asked Oliver.
It was no use trying to keep back anything.
"He pulled my ears, but not very hard. Really I expect it was only fun,Noll." This was said quite beseechingly. "I said I thought they werevery wicked to be doing what they did; but they only laughed at that,and called me a prig."
"Much bet
ter if you'd kept what you thought to yourself," saidWraysford. "Well?"
"Oh, then they did a lot of things to rile me, and knocked me aboutbecause I wouldn't drink their stuff, and they swore too."
"Did Loman swear?"
"They all swore, I think," said Stephen; "and then, you know, when Iwouldn't do what they wanted they said they'd throw me in the river, andthen you fellows turned up."
"Did Loman tell them to throw you in the river?" said Oliver, whose browhad been growing darker and darker.
"Oh, no," exclaimed Stephen, "he didn't, really! I think he was sorry."
"Did he try to prevent it, then?" asked Oliver.
"Well, no; I didn't hear him say--" faltered Stephen; but Oliver shuthim up, and turning to Wraysford said, "Wray, I shall thrash Loman."
"All serene," replied Wraysford; "you'd better have it out to-night."
"Oh, Noll!" cried Stephen in great distress; "don't fight, please. Itwas all my fault, for--"
"Shut up, Stee," said Oliver, quietly, but not unkindly. Then turningto Wraysford, he added, "After tea, then, Wray, in the gymnasium."
"Right you are!" replied his friend.
And then, without another word, the three rowed back to Saint Dominic's.