The Triple Alliance, Its Trials and Triumphs

by Harold Avery

  CHAPTER XI.

  SHADOWS OF COMING EVENTS.

  The Easter holidays came and went as rapidly as Easter holidays alwaysdo, and before the Alliance had recovered from the excitement connectedwith their first experience of breaking up at Ronleigh, they were backagain, greeting their friends, asking new boys their names, and, inshort, commencing their second term as regular old stagers. Up to thepresent they had been content to "lie low," and had remained satisfiedwith making the acquaintance of their class-mates in "The Happy Family;"but now they began to take more interest in school matters in general,and to notice what was going on in other circles besides their own.

  In answer to the eager inquiries of his two companions, Jack Vance saidthat he had seen nothing of Noaks during the holidays, except havingpassed him on one or two occasions in the street. The notice of thefifty pounds reward still appeared in the windows of the police station;but the robbery itself was beginning to be looked upon as a thing of thepast, and was already wellnigh forgotten.

  "I wonder if Noaks has still got my knife?" said Mugford.

  "Oh, I don't know," answered Jack. "He's too much taken up with Moulerand Gull and all that lot to think about us. I shouldn't bother my headabout it any further; he only showed us that paper out of spite, to putus in a funk."

  It was pretty evident, to the most casual observer, that the quarrelwhich the Black Swan incident had occasioned between Thurston and hisbrother prefects had not yet been dismissed from the minds of eitherparty. The former became more lax than ever in the discharge of hisduties, and avoiding the society of his school equals, sought thecompanionship of such boys as Hawley, Gull, and Mouler, who atlength came to be known throughout the College as "Thirsty's Lot."With the exception of Fletcher, the prefects left him severely alone.Allingford occasionally came down on him for allowing all kinds ofmisconduct to pass unchecked, but it was hardly to be expected that afellow who was hand and glove with some of the principal offendersshould have much influence or power in maintaining law and order; andthese interviews with the captain usually ended in an exchange of blacklooks and angry words.

  The consequences which resulted from this lack of harmony among those inauthority may be easily imagined. "Old Thirsty never makes a row whenhe sees a chap doing so-and-so," was the cry. "Why should Oaks andRowlands and those other fellows kick up bothers, and give lines for thesame thing?" To all these murmurers the prefects turned a deaf ear."I don't care what Thurston does," would be their answer; "you know therule, and that's sufficient." Any further remonstrance on the part ofthe offender was met with a summary "Shut up, or you'll get your headpunched," and so for a time the matter ended.

  It was hardly to be expected that the light-hearted juveniles of theThird Form should trouble their heads to take much notice of thisdisagreement among the seniors. For one thing, they knew nothing ofwhat was said and done in the Sixth Form studies, and even the prefectsthemselves never thought for a moment that this little bit of frictionin the machinery of Ronleigh College would, figuratively speaking, leadto "hot bearings" and a narrow shave of a general breakdown.

  So the members of "The Happy Family" pursued the even tenor of theirway, getting into scrapes and scrambling out of them, feasting on pastryand ginger-beer, turning up in force on Saturday afternoon to witnessthe cricket matches, and coming to the conclusion that though Oaks andRowlands might be a trifle strict, and rather freehanded with lines and"impots," yet all this could be overlooked and forgiven for the sakeof the punishment which they inflicted on the enemy's bowling.

  As it has been all along the intention of this story to follow thefortunes of the Triple Alliance, the record of their second term atRonleigh would not be complete without some mention of their memorableadventure with the "coffee-mill."

  Wednesday, the fourteenth of June, was Jack Vance's birthday, and justbefore morning school he expressed his intention of keeping it up in anovel manner.

  "Look here!" he remarked to his two companions. "You know that littlebootmaker's shop just down the road, before you come to the church.There's a notice in the window, 'Double Tricycle on Hire.' Well, themater's sent me some money this year instead of a hamper, so I thoughtI'd hire the machine; and we'll go out for a ride, and take it in turnsfor one to walk or trot behind."

  "Oh, I'd advise you not to!" cried "Rats," who was standing by andoverheard the project.

  "Why not?"

  "Why, it's a rotten old _sociable_, one of the first, I should think,that was ever made. It's like working a tread-mill, and it rattles andbangs about until you think every minute it must all be coming topieces. It's got a sort of box-seat instead of a saddle. Maxton hiredit out one day the term before last, and he and I and Collis rode toChatton. It isn't meant to carry three; but the seat's very wide, andthey squeezed me in between them. There's something wrong with thesteering-gear, and it makes a beastly grinding noise as it goes along,so Maxton christened it the 'coffee-mill.' Fellows are always chaffingold Jobling about it, when they go into his shop to buy bits of leather,and asking him how much he'll take for his coffee-mill, and the old chapgets into an awful wax."

  "Oh, I don't care!" answered Jack. "It'll be a lark, and we needn't gofar.--What d'you say, Diggy?"

  Diggory and Mugford both expressed their willingness to join in theexpedition, and arrangements were accordingly made for it to take placethat afternoon.

  "You'd better not let old Jobling see three of you get on at once," said"Rats." "I should send Mugford on in front and pick him up when you getround the corner."

  Rathson's description of the "coffee-mill" was certainly notexaggerated. It was a rusty, rattle-bag concern--a relic of the darkages of cycling--and .looked as if it had not been used for atwelvemonth. Jobling squirted some oil into the bearings, knockedthe dust off the cushioned seat, and remarked that a shilling an hourwas the proper charge; but that, as he always favoured the Ronleighgentlemen, he would say two shillings, and they might keep it the wholeafternoon.

  Jack, as we have said before, was of rather a nautical turn of mind, andoccasionally, when the fit was on him, loved to interlard hisconversation with seafaring expressions.

  "She isn't much of a craft to look at," he remarked, as they drew up anddismounted at the spot where Mugford stood waiting for them; "but we'llimagine this is my steam-yacht, and that we're going for a cruise.Now then, Diggy, you're the mate, and you shall sit on the starboardside and steer. Mugford's the passenger, so he'll go in the middle.I'm captain, and I'll work the port treadles. Now, then, all aboard!"

  The boys scrambled on to the seat, and with some little amount ofcrushing and squeezing got settled in their places, and at the captain'sword, "Half-speed ahead!" the voyage commenced. They went lumbering andclattering through the outskirts of the town, and at length, afterhaving roused the dormant wit of one shop-boy, who shouted "Knives togrind!" after them, they gained the highroad. For half a mile thevoyage was prosperous enough; then the adventures began.

  They were going at a good pace down a gentle slope, and on turning acorner saw immediately in front of them a narrow piece of road with aduck-pond on one side and a high bank on the other. Some one hadcarelessly left a wheelbarrow standing very nearly in the centre of thehighway, and there was only just room to pass it on the water side.

  "Starboard a little!"

  The steering gear worked rather stiffly. Diggory gave the handle a hardtwist, and it went round further than he intended.

  "Port!" cried the captain, "hard a-port!" But it was too late, and thenext moment the "coffee-mill" ran down the sloping bank and plungedinto the duck-pond. It gave a violent lurch, but fortunately itsbreadth of beam kept it from overturning, and the water, being not morethan a few inches deep, only wet the boots of the mariners.

  "You great ass, Diggy! why didn't you _port?_" demanded the captain.

  The mate, who as a matter of fact could not have told the differencebetween the nautical "port" and home-made ginger-beer, answeredpromptly, "S
o I did;" and the two officers commenced to punch eachother with their disengaged hands. This combat, which was conductedwith the utmost good feeling on both sides, had been continued fornearly a minute, when the passenger, on whose unoffending back a largeproportion of the blows were falling, remarked,--

  "Well, if we aren't going to stop here all day, when you've quite donewe'd better think about getting out."

  They were at least four yards from the shore, and it was impossible toreach it dry-shod.

  "Some one must take off his boots and socks and haul her out," saidDiggory.

  "Well, I can't," answered Jack; "the captain never ought to leave theship."

  "Oh, I'll go," answered Mugford, laughing; and accordingly, afterperforming some complicated gymnastic feats in getting off his boots, heslid from the seat into the water, and so hauled the "coffee-mill"back to _terra firma_.

  It would be impossible to describe in detail all the alarming incidentswhich happened during the outward passage.

  They had not gone a quarter of a mile further when something went wrongwith the brake. They flew down a long hill, holding on for dear life,nothing but the grand way in which the mate managed this time to steer astraight course down the middle of the road saving them fromdestruction. Nevertheless, mounting the last slope was such hard labourthat Mugford had to turn to and "work his passage," by every now andagain taking a spell at the treadles.

  "Look here!" said Diggory at length: "don't you think we've gone farenough? we shan't be back in time for tea."

  "Oh, I forgot," answered the captain. "We'll see. Stand by youranchor! Let go-o-o!"

  The "coffee-mill" stopped, and Jack Vance pulled out his watch.

  "By me it's half-past twelve, and I'm four hours slow: twelve to one,one to two, two to three, three to four--half-past four. Yes, it's timewe turned round. Now, then, 'bout ship!"

  The tricycle clanked and rattled away merrily enough on the returnjourney until it came to the long hill, which this time had to beclimbed instead of descended.

  "Don't let's get off," said Jack; "we ought to rush her up this if weset our minds to it."

  With a great deal of panting and struggling they succeeded in gettingabout half-way; then suddenly there was a crack, and the machine,instead of going forward, began to run back. Faster and faster itwent, the pedals remaining motionless under their feet.

  "The chain's gone," gasped the captain. "There's a cart behind! Quick,run her aground!"

  Of course the mate turned the handle the wrong way. On one side of theroad was an ordinary hedge, while on the other lay a deep ditch, andinto this a moment later the "coffee-mill" disappeared with every soulon board!

  There was an awful moment, when earth, sky, arms, legs, wheels, andbushes seemed all mixed together, and then Jack Vance found himselfresting on his hands and knees in a puddle of dirty water. Diggory andMugford had been driven with considerable violence into the thickestpart of a thorn hedge, and proceeded to extricate themselvestherefrom with many groans and lamentations.

  "Well," said the mate, as they proceeded to drag the machine out of theditch, "I should think, Jack, you've celebrated your birthday aboutenough; now you'd better give over, or we shall all be sent home in asack."

  "Me!" cried the captain, with great indignation. "It was _your_ fault,you dummy! you put the helm over wrong again, you--"

  "Hullo, you kids!" interrupted a voice behind them, and turning roundthe three friends saw the burly form of John Acton pushing a bicycle upthe hill. "Hullo!" he continued; "it's young Trevanock. What's up?Have you had a spill?"

  "Yes; the chain broke, and we ran into the ditch."

  "Umph! bad business. Now you'll have to foot it, I suppose."

  "Yes," answered Jack ruefully; "and we're bound to be back late pushingthis old thing all the way. I wish old Jobling would try a ride on ithimself."

  "Oh! is that the 'coffee-mill'?" exclaimed the prefect, laughing."Well, look here! If you're late, I'll see whoever's on duty, and tellhim about the breakdown, and see if I can get you off."

  "Oh, thanks awfully!" chorused the small boys.

  "I've half a mind to say I wouldn't," continued Acton, looking round ashe put his foot on the step of his machine, and nodding his head atDiggory. "I owe you a grudge for not telling me what I wanted to knowabout my young brother's love-letter."

  The football captain was as good as his word: he got the Triple Allianceexcused the "impot" which would otherwise have been awarded them forarriving at the school half an hour late, and the only misfortune whichresulted from their eventful excursion was that Jack Vance had to expenda further portion of his postal order in paying Jobling for repairingthe broken chain. The day, however, did not close without anotherincident happening to one of the voyagers, which, though trifling initself, proved, as it were, the shadow of coming events which weredestined to seriously affect the well-being and happiness of all theRonleigh boys.

  Crossing the quadrangle soon after tea, Diggory saw something brightlying on the gravel; it proved to be a silver match-box with the lettersC. T. engraved on the front. He took it with him into the school-room,and holding it up as the boys were assembling at their desks forpreparation, asked if any one knew who was the owner.

  "Yes, I do," answered young Fletcher: "it's Thirsty's; I've seen itoften."

  Preparation of the next day's work having ended, Diggory's attention wasoccupied for a time in discussing with Carton the merits of some foreignstamps. Just before supper, however, he remembered the match-box, andhurried away to restore it to its rightful owner.

  Thurston was evidently at home, for a prolonged shout of laughter andthe clamour of several voices reached Diggory's ears as he approachedthe study. As he knocked at the door the noise suddenly ceased, therewas a moment's silence, and then a murmur in a low tone, followed by ascuffling of feet and the overturning of a chair.

  "Who's there? you can't come in!" shouted the owner of the den.

  "I don't want to," answered Diggory, through the keyhole. "I've broughtyour match-box that I picked up in the 'quad.'"

  "Oh, it's only a kid," said the voice of Fletcher senior; and the nextinstant the door was unlocked by Thurston, who opened it about sixinches, and immediately thrust his body into the aperture, as though toprevent the possibility of the visitor getting any sight of the interiorof the room.

  "Oh, thanks; you're a brick," he said, taking the box, and immediatelyclosed the door and turned the key.

  Diggory was retracing his steps along the passage, wondering what couldbe the object of all this secrecy, when he nearly ran into the schoolcaptain.

  "Hullo, young man!" said the latter, "where have you been?"

  "To Thurston's study."

  "What have you been there for?" demanded Allingford sharply, with asudden change in his tone and manner.

  "Only to give him his match-box that I picked up in the 'quad.'"

  The captain eyed the speaker narrowly, as though half inclined to doubtthe truth of this explanation; then, apparently satisfied with thehonest expression of the small boy's face, told him to get down tosupper.

  The latter wandered off, wondering more than ever what could have beenthe object of the private gathering in Thurston's study which he hadjust interrupted.

  "It's what I told you before," remarked Carton, when Diggory chanced tomention what had happened. "Thirsty's going to the dogs, and I believebig Fletcher's got a lot to do with it. Allingford can't interfere withthem as long as they keep to themselves. I don't know what they do, butI shouldn't be surprised if there is a rare old kick-up one of thesefine days."

  Mischief certainly was brewing, and the "kick-up" came sooner than evenCarton himself expected.