CHAPTER XV
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE SAND-PIT
Though the boys of St. Bede's and those of Garside regarded themselvesas adversaries, to their credit be it said no outbreak of temper hadresulted from their meeting at the sand-pit. There had been some amountof good-humoured chaff bandied to and fro across the pit, but nothingmore. All were eager for the coming struggle.
A cheer went up from the Garsides directly they caught sight of Paul.The Bedes eyed him critically.
"Looks grim enough--as though he meant business," said one, as Pauladvanced to the pit.
The cheer of his comrades put fresh life into Paul. His blood, which hadseemed stagnant, began to race through his veins.
"For the honour of the Form," he said to himself, between his clenchedteeth, "I must--I will win!"
As though his comrades wished to give him all the encouragement in theirpower, another cheer went up as he entered the pit, and took up hisposition on the floor of hard-pressed sand below.
"Where's the other fellow?" he asked.
"Doesn't seem to have turned up yet," said Arbery; "but I don't thinkit's quite time. How goes it, Levy?"
Leveson had a stop-watch and was very proud of it. He usually acted astimekeeper at the school sports, when the stop-watch was very much tothe fore. He prided himself on one thing--always knowing the right time.His was the only watch that kept the right time at Garside--so, atleast, Leveson said. To ask Leveson the "correct time" was one of thegreatest compliments you could pay him. It was a tacit acknowledgmentthat the time kept by Leveson's stop-watch was superior to any other.
"Three minutes eighteen seconds to three," answered Leveson, afterexamining the watch.
"Oh, we'll make you a present of the seconds," said Arbery. Then heshouted across to the Bedes: "I say, Beetles, is that champion of yourscoming on an ambulance?"
"No; that's coming after," cried a bright-eyed lad named Sterry, fromthe other side, "to take your champion home!"
A loud laugh from the Bedes greeted this retort.
"He scored over you there, Arbery," said indolent Waterman.
Scarcely had the laughter died away than it was followed by a loudcheer.
"Their man's coming at last. What's the time, Levy?"
"One minute thirty secs. to the hour. He's cut it rather fine--must be acool sort of bounder," answered Leveson. "Hallo, look there! Hang me ifthere isn't Master Plunger and a lot of the howlers from his form."
Arbery looked in the direction indicated. Plunger and his companionswere lying at full length on the banks of the pit, peering over itssides and taking the deepest possible interest in the proceedings below.
"So it is. How did the little beggar get to know what was going on, Iwonder?"
"Said he was going eel-fishing. Thought it was a blind," said Devey."Hallo, they're peeling!"
Paul had taken off his coat, and rolled back his sleeves. The championof the other Form could not at first be seen because of the throng whichhad gathered round him, but presently he came from the group thatsurrounded him with his coat off, and his arms bared, just as Paulstepped into the ring.
Their eyes met. Paul staggered back, as though he had been struck. Theyouth who stood before him was Gilbert Wyndham, he who had helped him onthe night he was fleeing from Zuker. Fight him? Impossible! Not thoughhis life depended on it!
The excited murmur of voices that followed the two into the ring ceased.A strange silence rested on the place, as the two boys confronted eachother. Then as the two schools were waiting eagerly for the first blowto be struck, they saw Paul's hands fall helpless to his side; saw thecolour go from his face; saw the white lips move. What did it mean? Theystared in wonder, and the wonder grew as Paul turned away and took hiscoat from Moncrief.
"I cannot fight," he murmured.
With his coat on his arm he hastened from the pit. Then the silence wasbroken by the Bedes. They howled, and jeered and hooted. And above thehooting and the jeers there rose the cry:
"The noble champion of the Gargoyles!"
Heedless of the shouting and the jeers, Paul walked swiftly away, as oneseized with sudden fear. His own Form still remained silent. They mighthave been struck dumb. It was all so strange--so unexpected.
Then they in turn shouted and jeered after the retreating figure.
Paul heard the shouts. Those from the Bedes made him shiver. These fromhis own Form cut into him like whips.
"They do not understand! How--how can I tell them?" he murmured as hepressed on, anxious to get away from the place as quickly as possible.He did not pause till he came in sight of the old flag waving above theschool. Had he disgraced that flag--the legacy of a brave soldier? Hadhe dishonoured it? God would be his judge.
He passed three or four boys as he entered the grounds. They knewnothing of what had happened at the sand-pit. One boy spoke to him, butPaul took no heed of him. He had not heard him. He was as though deafand blind to all around him. He did not pause till he reached one of theclass-rooms; then his head fell on his arms.
The shouts and jeers followed him, and broke harshly in upon thestillness of the room. With startling distinctness he could hear them,and the cry went ringing through his brain:
"The noble champion of the Gargoyles!"
Then resting there, with his head bowed on his arms, he searched hisconscience, and asked himself the question--"Have I done right?" Had heacted as his father would have wished him to act had he been living? Hadhe done right in the sight of God? Yes, he felt confident he had doneright in refusing to fight Wyndham, though he could not explain to hisclass-mates why he had so acted. That night ride was known only toStanley and him. It was impossible for him to divulge the secret to hisForm. He must suffer their taunts in silence, trusting that the timewould soon come when he might speak.
"There's one good thing, old Stan will understand me. I can make itclear enough to him. He ought to be here by this time. Why doesn't hecome?" he asked himself.
He tried to shake off the gloom that oppressed him, but could not. Hishead went to the desk again, and again he heard the yells and hooting ofthe boys at the pit; but the cries seemed fainter.
"Why doesn't Stan come--why doesn't Stan come?" he kept asking himself.
He rested thus for some time--how long he knew not--when he was rousedby a timid hand resting on his arm, while a gentle voice whispered:"Percival."
He looked up quickly. Hibbert was standing beside him, his face, usuallyso pale, was slightly flushed, as the brown eyes turned to Paul.
"I haven't disturbed you, have I?" he asked.
"What do you want with me, Hibbert?" Paul asked rather sharply; for hedid not like the lad breaking in upon him so quietly.
"You looked so wretched and miserable I could not help coming in. You'renot angry with me, are you?"
"Angry with you? No; why should I be?" answered Paul, forcing a smile tohis face at the boy's eager question.
"Oh, I'm so used to people being angry with me, except you and--and Mr.Weevil."
"Mr. Weevil! Doesn't he ever get angry with you?"
"No; he's very good to me."
Paul was rather astonished at this piece of information, knowing thatWeevil had a reputation for harshness.
"Glad to hear it. He makes it up on the other fellows." Paul's mindflitted back to the night when Stanley was sent to Dormitory X. "But whyaren't you outside, enjoying yourself with your class-mates?"
"They never want me to play with them. I'm no good at their games,"answered the boy sadly; "but I've been with some of them this afternoon.I was at the--sand-pit."
He volunteered the information with some hesitation. Paul flushed. Whathad happened would soon be known, then, to every boy in the school.
"We found out what was going to happen in our Form; and so I went withthe rest to see you--to see you----"
Again the boy hesitated.
"To see me turn tail and run. Out with it. Don't be afraid of hurting myfeelings," cried Paul bitterly. "The other
fellows won't. You'll hearwhat they'll be calling me presently--quite a choice collection ofnames--cur, pariah, coward, and the rest of it."
"No, not coward. I know you couldn't be," said the boy confidently. "Anyone can see that by looking in your face. I know you had some reason forgoing away. It's that made you so wretched. I knew you would be, andso--and so after waiting a little time to see what would happen, Ifollowed after you."
Paul was touched at Hibbert's devotion. In that one moment the boy hadrepaid a hundredfold the little act of kindness he had shown him when hefirst entered the school. He had come to Paul in his loneliness, and hadbrought a ray of sunshine into the gloom that had suddenly sprung uparound him.
"Do you know, Hibbert, you're a very good little chap to speak of me asyou do, and to think of me as you do? I'm a long way off deserving it, Ican tell you. You waited after I left the sand-pit, you say, to see whatwould happen? What did happen? They kept up the groans for me till theywere tired, I suppose?"
"Don't speak of it," said the boy, shivering.
"You needn't be afraid of giving me pain, I tell you. I'm getting prettytough. After they'd done hooting me----"
"While they were still hooting you, Moncrief threw off his jacket, andleapt into your place."
"What!" cried Paul, starting to his feet, and staring at the boy. "Leaptinto my place?"
"Yes, stood up to the Beetle--the fellow they call Wyndham; then thehooting stopped, and our fellows cheered madly, specially when Newallcame forward and backed up Moncrief major."
"Newall! backed up Moncrief!" repeated Paul, bewildered. "Do you mean tosay Moncrief fought with Wyndham?"
"Yes, wildly--madly."
Paul closed his eyes, shuddering. He could see the two confronting eachother, and staggering about in the sand-pit. For some moments he couldnot speak, and when his hands came from his face, it was as white as theboy's before him.
"And who--who came off best, Hibbert?"
"I don't know. I--I could not stop. To see them fighting so mademe--made me feel bad all over. I'm not like other boys. And--and all thetime I was thinking of you; so I hastened here, and--and found you."
"They were still fighting as you left?"
"Yes, yes; but where are you going?"
Paul had seized his cap and turned to the door.
"To see what has happened."
"It will be all over by now; don't go," pleaded the boy.
But Paul was deaf to Hibbert's pleading.
"What have I done--what have I done?" he asked himself as he rushed intothe grounds. "Fool--fool, not to have guessed what would happen!"
Somehow we do rarely guess what will happen. Things which seem so clearto us after they have happened are quite hidden from our sightbeforehand. The best of us grope about in the dark, and stumble blindlyalong as Paul Percival had done.
Paul rushed on--back--back to the sand-pit. Suddenly he came to a deadstop. The hum of many voices reached his ears. A crowd of boys werecoming towards him.