The Hero of Garside School

  CHAPTER XXIV

  THE RAFT ON THE RIVER

  From this time every effort was made to make Paul's life at Garsideunendurable. The dead set against him extended from the Fifth Formdownwards. The views which Newall had expressed with so much force onthe night he had been feathered reigned supreme throughout the school.It was felt that Paul had no place there, and that as he would not go ofhis own free will, it was the bounden duty of all of them to followNewall's advice, and drive him from it. So the war against him wascarried on--not so much openly as secretly--by every petty means thatcould be devised.

  Stanley, to his credit, took no part in this secret warfare againstPaul. He had still some affection for him; but though he took no part init, he made no effort to check it. The fact was that he was getting moreand more under the thumb of Newall and Parfitt every day.

  Even Hibbert seemed to have deserted him. At any rate, Paul saw butlittle of him at this time, and when he did see him, the boy onlygreeted him with a wan, frightened smile, as though he were afraid tospeak.

  Waterman was about the only one who showed no change of manner towardshim. He was still quite friendly in his lazy fashion. It was he who hadfirst given the hint to Paul of the movement on foot against him.

  "I may as well put you on your guard, Percival," he said, on the dayfollowing Newall's declaration against Paul. "You've put up the backs ofall the Form, and a lot of fellows outside it. They're going for you.They mean driving you from Garside."

  "I thought something was on foot. Thanks for telling me."

  "Oh, you'd have soon found out, you know, without my telling you. Butyou needn't give me away. I only just mention it so that you may knowwhat's in the wind. Don't worry. It's not worth it."

  With this characteristic piece of advice Waterman left him.

  "Trying to drive me from the school," Paul repeated to himself. "Well,they may try, and beat me in the long run, but they won't find it easy.'Be ye stedfast, unmovable.' By God's help I'll try to be true to theschool motto."

  Having come to that determination, Paul set his teeth hard, and put hisback to the wall. And so, though scarcely a day passed without bringingsome fresh insult or tyranny, he still held firm to the position he hadtaken up--to the resolve he had made with himself and his God. It mustbe admitted, however, that the cup was sometimes very near tooverflowing.

  His lot might have been easier to bear had he received some answer tothe letter he had written to Mr. Moncrief; but as day followed daywithout any response, it seemed to him that Mr. Moncrief disdainedwriting to him, or did not think his letter worth answering. He came tothe conclusion that Stanley must have written to his uncle, telling himwhat had happened at the sand-pit, and the feeling against Paul at theschool, and so had poisoned his mind against him.

  Once or twice Paul thought of writing to the one friend who never failedhim--his mother--and unburdening his breast to her; but the thought onlycame to him to be dismissed. It would only make her miserable. She hadsuffered enough in the past without being worried with his pettytroubles at school. So he determined to stand alone--to fight out thebattle by himself.

  Things were at this pass when an event happened which caused some stirat Garside.

  About a mile from the school ran the river. Its course lay inpicturesque variety through peaceful pastoral country, cornfields, andorchards. One part of it was spanned by an old wooden bridge. Thisbridge had become so dilapidated by time and wear that the countyjustices had decided that it was dangerous for traffic. So to preventthe possibility of an accident, it was decided to pull it down, andreplace it with a new one.

  Accordingly, the bridge was pulled down, and a new one begun. To aid inthis task, a raft was used by the workmen in crossing the river.

  Now Plunger and his companions in the Third Form were deeply interestedin the work that was going on at the river, but what interested Plungermost of all was the raft. It seemed to him that he would like to liveupon that raft. What could be more delightful than gliding up and downthe stream on it for ever. Then he thought of the many adventures thathad happened on rafts--of the many shipwrecked passengers that had beensaved on them.

  "Wish I had one of my own," he remarked to Harry, as the two stoodwatching the men crossing the stream one half-holiday. "Wouldn't it bejolly fun?"

  "Very," answered Harry, who, fired by Plunger's enthusiasm, began toshare his longing.

  It should be mentioned that Plunger's attitude towards Harry had changedsince the night when Newall had been feathered in mistake for Baldry.

  To use the phrase of the Third--"Moncrief minor had scored," and Plungernever respected anybody till they had succeeded in scoring over him--inother words, beaten him at his own game. Since then he had begun totolerate Harry, and receive him on something like a footing of equality.

  "Those fellows," went on Plunger, nodding his head in the direction ofthe workmen on the raft, "are so beastly selfish."

  "How, Freddy?"

  "Well, I tried to get on that raft when it was lying idle the other day;but they commenced shouting at me like mad. I wasn't doing any harm."

  "Of course not."

  "If they'd been using it, it'd have been a different thing; but theyweren't. So why couldn't they have let me cross the river on it--eh?"

  "I don't see why. They ought to have been glad to. They didn't know thehonour they were losing. Now, if you'd only have told 'em who youwere----"

  "Shut up!" cried Plunger, pinching Harry's arm. "But, I say, couldn't wejust have some lovely games, if we only had a raft like that?"

  "Lovely," assented Harry.

  Here was silence between them for some moments, as they watched the raftand the men upon it with envious eyes.

  "Duffers!" exclaimed Plunger, at length giving expression to hisfeelings.

  "Don't take on so, Freddy."

  "Can't help it--duffers!" repeated Plunger, with still greater emphasis.

  Silence again, broken by Harry.

  "Would you really like to go on that raft, Freddy!"

  "Stow poking fun."

  "I'm not poking fun, I'm quite serious. Seems to me that if we reallywanted to go on that raft, and really made up our minds to it, we oughtto be able to manage it."

  "How?" came the eager question.

  "Easy enough if we go the right way, and don't make a mess of it, likeNewall did that night when he walked into the Forum."

  "We're not talking about the Forum," said Plunger quickly, giving Harryanother pinch. "We're talking about rafts--that raft," pointing to theone on the river.

  "And it's that raft I'm talking about. Have you ever noticed whathappens on a Saturday?"

  "Many things happen on a Saturday; but what is the one thing thathappens in particular?"

  "The workmen on the bridge leave off exactly as the clock strikestwelve--a little bit sooner if they can manage it. Never later."

  "Oh, yes; they're very punctual at leaving off. But what's that to dowith the raft?"

  "A good deal. They always leave the raft tied up under the bridge. Whatwould be easier than to untie it, and there you are."

  "Harry, you're a genius--a reg'lar genius!" cried Plunger, bringing hishand down on Harry's back. "It never sprouted out like that when youwere at Gaffer Quelch's. It's come on since you've been at Garside. Imust have helped it."

  Plunger had undoubtedly helped in the development of what he was pleasedto term Harry's "genius," but whether altogether to the advantage ofHarry time alone could show.

  "You helped it, Freddy! The only help you give is helping Number One.You ought to have belonged to the help-myself society. You'd have beenjust the fellow for the president."

  Plunger kicked Harry, and Harry returned the compliment; then their eyeswent to the river again, and the raft, which was just getting under wayagain to cross to the other side.

  "Those duffers don't know how to use a raft," said Harry contemptuously,after he had been watching the workmen for some moments.

  "Of course the
y don't. That's the worst of being landlubbers. Wish wecould only take them in hand and show them."

  "One of 'em ought to be wearing a suit of goatskins and things of thatsort, with a great cap on his head, with the hair on the outside toshoot off the rain if it came on," said Harry thoughtfully.

  "Like Robinson Crusoe, you mean?"

  "Like Robinson Crusoe. That slim fellow with the black hair would do forFriday, and the others could be Indians--if they only knew how to dothings properly; but they don't."

  "They don't," repeated Plunger emphatically. "My, if we only had theworking of that raft, Harry, we'd make things hum!"

  It was tantalizing to watch the men, so they turned away with visions ofwhat it would be possible to accomplish if they only had possession ofthe raft. They could discover a desert island on the other side of theriver, pitch their tent on it, and do "lots of things." Full of thesesplendid visions, they walked along in silence, each busy with his ownthoughts.

  "I think we can work it, Harry," Plunger at length remarked.

  "Work what?"

  "That Crusoe idea. We can get the raft next Saturday, and easily peg outa desert island on the other side of the river. I shan't want to dressup much. I've got a ragged jacket which'll be near enough for skins, anda soft felt which I can cut round the brim with Mrs. Trounce's scissors.That'll do for the hat."

  "Whose hat?"

  "Crusoe's hat, of course."

  "And who's going to wear it?"

  "Who's going to wear it?" Plunger's eyebrows disappeared into the rootsof his hair in amazement at the question. "I am, of course!"

  "You mean that you're going to be Crusoe?"

  "Of course!"

  And Plunger's eyebrows remained so high up in the roots of his hair atthe bare idea of anybody else playing the part that it seemed as thoughthey would never come down again.

  "Well, but where do I come in?"

  "You can be Friday or an Indian."

  "And make myself black, and go about without any shoes and socks on, andget thorns in my feet, and--and things like that. No, Freddy; no, Idon't! We'll change parts. I'll be Crusoe; you be Friday. You look morelike a savage than I do."

  Plunger did not seem altogether pleased with the compliment, for hebrought his knuckles down on Harry's head; but Harry was not quite themeek boy he was when he first came to Garside, so he returned thecompliment, with interest. Then Plunger tried by cajolery to induce himto let him be Crusoe, and satisfy himself with the part of Friday, butHarry remained firm.

  "I first thought of it," he argued, "and I ought to have first choice.If we're going on that raft, I'm going as Crusoe, Freddy."

  Plunger preserved a gloomy silence for some moments; then he suddenlylifted his head, and his eyes sparkled.

  "I've got it. Why shouldn't there be two Crusoes?"

  "Two Crusoes! You and I, Freddy?"

  "Yes."

  Harry had never heard of two Crusoes existing on the desert island atone and the same time, but he didn't see why there shouldn't be. Itwould be more up to date. Besides it solved the difficulty, so hepromptly consented.

  "But, who'll be Man Friday?"

  "Oh, we'll make the Camel Man Friday. He'll do splendidly."

  "The Camel" was the cruel nickname it will be remembered that Newall hadgiven to Hibbert. Unfortunately, a name like that sticks, and it hadstuck to Hibbert.