The Hero of Garside School

  CHAPTER XVI

  "HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A LEPER"

  In the midst of the boys coming along the road was Stanley. He was notso easy to recognize, for his face was bruised and swollen, and a thinstreak of scarlet came from a cut near the right eye. He seemed tostagger along the road rather than walk, and, what was most strange,Newall had one arm through his, as though to support him.

  Paul's heart fell. It was true enough what Hibbert had said. A fight hadtaken place, and, judging by appearances, Stanley had had the worst ofit. For the moment Paul could not move; then, rousing himself, with aneffort he ran towards Stanley.

  Instantly he was greeted with a storm of hisses. Stanley turned from himwith a look on his bruised and swollen face Paul had never seen therebefore. It was a look of repugnance, as though the affection betweenthem had suddenly turned to loathing. Then the crowd of boys parted, anddrawing away from Paul, left him standing there alone--he might havebeen a leper.

  He began to feel indignant against Stanley. He at least ought to haveknown why he had refused to fight Wyndham; and then, as he recalledStanley's bruised face, his indignation vanished. The old tenderness andaffection for his friend came back in a wave.

  "Why did I leave you, Stan--why did I leave you?"

  He reproached himself, and still more bitterly Wyndham. It was Wyndhamwho had done this--who had bruised and battered Stanley, and raised thisbarrier between them.

  "You'll have to reckon with me some day, Master Wyndham," he said tohimself.

  He looked in the direction of Garside. The boys had disappeared fromsight. How could he get an explanation of what had happened? He would goand demand one; but somehow as he turned to the school his feet seemedas heavy as lead. For the first time he felt as though he had no rightthere. What was the use of going back when no one wanted him? He hadmade a horrible mess of everything.

  Paul felt utterly miserable, as though he would like to flee fromeverything and every one. Then the pale face of little Hibbert rosebefore him, and he heard him speaking again as he had spoken to him inthe class-room:

  "Coward! I know you couldn't be. Any one can see that by looking in yourface."

  There was one at the school, at any rate, who had not lost faith in him.And Paul was strengthened by the memory.

  Thus thinking, he turned away from the school again, scarcely heedingthe direction in which he went. Happening to look up, he saw Watermancoming along the road towards him. He was strolling along with bothhands thrust in his pockets in his usual leisurely manner. He was one ofthat class of boys who never seem to have anything to do, and plenty oftime to do it in.

  "I wonder if he will shun me like the rest?" thought Paul. And then headded with a smile: "At any rate he won't run away from me. It'll be toomuch trouble."

  As Paul anticipated, Waterman made no attempt to avoid him, but he wouldhave passed on without speaking, had not Paul stood directly in hispathway.

  "You were at the sand-pit this afternoon, Waterman?"

  "Of course I was."

  "And saw what happened?"

  "Yes," was the curt answer, and Waterman endeavoured to pass on, butPaul still stood in his pathway.

  "You're not in a hurry, Watey."

  "Hurry!" repeated the boy indignantly, with raised eyebrows, as thoughthat were one of the most offensive words Paul could use. "I never fagover things, you know."

  "Then you can spare me a minute or two. I'll turn back with you, if youlike."

  Waterman neither assented nor dissented. So soon as Paul turned, he kepton his way, with both hands in his pockets, as though unconscious ofPaul's presence.

  "I want to know what happened at the pit after I left."

  "Haven't you seen any of the other fellows? Why didn't you get them toexplain? I'm never good at explanations."

  "I meant speaking to them, but they booed and hissed at me, like geese."

  "Really?" And Waterman's eyebrows went up, as though he marvelled at somuch unnecessary exertion being expended on Paul. "I don't see the goodof that, but it's the way some fellows have of showing their feeling.And come to think of it, I don't wonder. You cut up badly at thesand-pit. I really don't know whether I'm doing quite right in speakingto you--I really don't."

  "You can settle that point after. Tell me first what happened at thesand-pit, Watey," urged Paul.

  "Moncrief took your place when you turned tail----"

  "Yes, yes; I've heard that. After--after----"

  "Well, unfortunately for Garside, Moncrief got the worst of it. He madea very plucky stand, but he wasn't a match for the Beetle--what's thefellow's name?--Wyndham. Moncrief stood well up to him, but it was nogood. He was knocked down once or twice, until Newall, who was backinghim, you know, threw up the sponge. Moncrief would never have given inhimself. I never saw a fellow look so wretched and miserable as he didwhen, after coming to, they told him it was all over and he had lost.But the fellows cheered him for his pluck, and some of the Beetlesjoined in after they had shouted themselves hoarse over their ownchampion, especially that little turncoat, Mellor. He shouted himselfblack in the face."

  "Wretched and miserable, you say?" repeated Paul. Brief as Waterman'sdescription was, he could picture all that had happened--he could seeStanley reeling under Wyndham's blows, and the climax of it all when hehad swallowed the last bitter drop--the humiliation of defeat.

  "Yes, wretched and miserable, and I don't wonder at it." They walked onin silence for some moments; then Waterman suddenly spoke again: "Lookhere, Percival, it's an awful fag trying to understand any one, but Ionce thought I understood you. I never dreamt you'd turn tail like youdid. I'll never try to understand any one again. I'll give it up."

  "Bear with me a little longer. I had my reasons for what I did."

  "I suppose you had. You can't be quite an idiot. But reasons can beexplained. Why didn't you explain yours?"

  "Look here," said Paul; "you've acted decently towards me, Waterman, andI'll explain to you as far as I'm able. Supposing a Beetle had done you,a few weeks back, a splendid turn--got you out of a tight corner inwhich you might have lost your life? Are you following me?"

  "Beetle--tight corner. Yes, I follow; but don't make it too hazy. Idon't want to suffer from brain-fag. You're out of a tight corner, andyour life's saved by--a Beetle. Trot along."

  "Well, supposing on your return to school after that, a breeze springsup between the Beetles and the Fifth; and supposing the Fifth insist onyou being its champion?"

  "Oh, that's absurd. They'd never insist on my being its champion. Ican't follow you there, Percival."

  "I know it's hard," smiled Paul; "but, we're only supposing, you know."

  "Ah, yes, I'd forgotten; but I can't see the use of supposingabsurdities. Go on your own giddy way. Supposing----"

  "The Fifth insist on you being its champion; and then supposing, whenyou get to the sand-pit to do battle for your form, you find that thechampion of the Beetles--the one you're to do battle with--is the fellowwho saved your life. Well, supposing all this, could you have foughthim?"

  "You don't mean to say that this is what happened to you?" demandedWaterman, rousing himself in a surprising way.

  "You haven't answered me."

  "Well, if I could fancy myself as a champion of any kind, I don't thinkI could go for one who'd saved my life--bother it, no! But is thisreally what happened to you, Percival?"

  "Yes, it really happened to me."

  "Then why didn't you explain?"

  "Because I couldn't. My tongue's tied for the present. I'm onlyexplaining to you in confidence, and I want you to promise me that youwon't let it go any further."

  "I hate mysteries, they're so worrying. Why should there be anymystery?"

  "Why? I can't explain, except--except that there's something moreimportant than the honour of the Fifth; than the honour of the schooleven. That's the reason why I'm obliged to keep silent."

  "Oh, I say, this is getting more and more worrying. But if you don'twant me to spea
k, of course, I'll keep quiet!"

  Paul knew that he could trust Waterman. In spite of his slackness--inspite of his indolence--he could be relied on to keep his word. In fact,he had one or two good qualities in reserve. If he made no closefriendships, he had no enemies. "It was too great a trouble," he wouldhave told you. "Too great a fag." That was only half the truth; thewhole truth was that Waterman had, at bottom, a very good heart, thoughit was not often seen. It was hidden under his indolence of manner.

  He allowed a corner of it to be seen in a curious fashion on the wayback to the school. He stuck to Paul's side--both hands in his pocket,of course--and made no attempt to "cut him," as the others had done.They passed several of the Gargoyles as they reached the school grounds,and directly Waterman's ears caught the suggestion of a jibe--and he hadrather sharp ears considering how lazy he was--he would start whistlinga popular tune, so that the jibe had a good deal of the sting taken fromit by the time it reached its mark.

  "I wish you could make it right with the fellows," he remarked, as hetook leave of Paul.

  "All in good time. I'm grateful that you haven't turned your back on me,Waterman."

  "Oh, don't butter me for that. I can't turn my back on any one--it's toogreat a fag."

  And Waterman strolled away with his hands in his pocket as though theyhad been glued there, whistling "Hail, smiling morn."

  Paul's talk with him had put him in a more cheerful mood.

  "I've only to find Stan and explain things. I don't care a snap of myfingers for the other fellows--they can go to Halifax," Paul toldhimself, as he went in search of Stanley. But though he searched for himin every direction, he could not find him.

  "He don't like to show himself just yet, with so many beauty spots onhis face. Perhaps he's lying down," thought Paul, as he made his way tothe dormitory. But Stanley was not in the dormitory--it was empty."Strange. Where can he have got to?"

  Descending the stairs, the first boy he ran against was Plunger.

  "Seen anything of Moncrief major?" he asked.

  Plunger simply stared at him, while his eyebrows went up, in the waythey had, till they disappeared into the stubborn thatch above.

  "Did you hear what I said?"

  Plunger did another movement with his eccentric eyebrows, then turned onhis heel. Paul sprang after him, angry in spite of himself.

  "Now look here, Master Plunger," he said, seizing him by the collar, andtwisting him sharply round, "none of your nonsense. You needn't pretendthat you didn't hear me, because you did. I asked you a civil question,and I want a civil answer."

  "You ought to know more about him than I do, Percival. The last I saw ofhim he was being knocked about for you in the sand-pit."

  And Plunger laughed impudently in Paul's face. Paul's hand fell from hiscollar. The jibe struck home, and Plunger went laughing on his way. Hewas always supremely happy when he could "score," as he termed it, "offthose bounders of the Fifth." Paul felt that he had descended low,indeed, when he could be used as a target for the jibes of Master FreddyPlunger.

  He glanced back to the flag that waved above Garside--from the flag tothe school door. As he did so, the figure he was looking for appeared inthe doorway--the figure of Stanley Moncrief.