by Harold Avery
CHAPTER XIX.
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS.
The firmest friendships, we are told, have been formed in mutualadversity; and among the many trials which served to strengthen andconfirm the loyalty and unity of the Triple Alliance, a string of minordisasters which overtook them one unlucky day early in December mustcertainly not be overlooked.
The after results of this chapter of accidents cause it to assume anadditional importance as being the "beginning of the end," alike of thisnarrative and of an eventful period in the history of Ronleigh College.The reader will understand, therefore, that in turning our attention fora short time to an account of the afore-mentioned misfortune of thethree friends, we are not wandering from what might be called the mainline of our story.
"It all came about," so said Jack Vance, "through Carton's having thecheek to go home some ten days before proper time." The lattercertainly did, for one reason or another, leave Ronleigh on Wednesday,the eleventh of December; and by his own special request, our threefriends came down to the station to see him off.
"Have you got anything to read going along?" asked Diggory, as theystood lingering round the carriage door.
"Yes," answered Carton. "Look here, you fellows, you might get in andsit round the window till the train starts; it'll keep other people fromgetting in, and I shall have the place to myself."
The Triple Alliance did as they were requested.
"Aha, my boys!" continued Carton, rubbing his hands together, "whenyou're stewing away in 'prep' this evening, think of me at home eating arattling good tea, and no more work to prepare after it for oldGreyling."
"Oh, rubbish!" cried Jack. "I wouldn't go now even if I had the chance.Why, you'll miss all the fun of breaking up; and young 'Rats' is makingup a party to fill a carriage, and we're going to have a fine spree.Then by the time we get home for Christmas it'll be all stale to you.Pshaw! I wouldn't--hullo!--here, stop a minute!--why, she's off!"
Off she certainly was. There had been a sharp chirrup of the whistle,and at almost the same moment the train began to move. Diggory tried tolet down the window to get at the handle of the door; but the sashworked stiffly, and before he succeeded in making it drop, the train hadrun the length of the platform, and the station was left behind.
The four boys gazed at one another for a moment in blank astonishment,and then burst into a simultaneous roar of laughter.
"You'll have to go as far as Chatton now," said Carton. "Never mind; youcan get back by the next train."
"Yes; but the question is if we've got any money," answered Jack Vanceruefully. "It's fourpence the single journey, so the fare there andback for three of us'll be two bob. Here's threepence; that's all thetin I'm worth.--what have you got, Diggy?"
"Four halfpenny stamps, and half a frank on my watch-chain," was thereply. "But I don't think these railway Johnnies 'ud take either ofthose."
On examination, the only articles of value Mugford's pockets were foundto contain were an aluminium pencil-case which wouldn't work, and adirty scrap of indiarubber.
"Look here," cried Carton, "I'll give you two shillings. It's my fault;and I've got something over from my journey-money."
The offer was gladly accepted, and at length, when the train reachedChatton, the three chums wished their companion good-bye, laughingheartily over their unexpected journey.
"What time's the next train back to Ronleigh?" asked Jack, as he paidthe money for their fare to the ticket-collector.
"Let's see," answered the official: "next train to Ronleigh--5.47."
Jack's face fell. "Isn't there any train before that?" he asked."We've got to be back at the school by half-past five."
"Can't help that," returned the man; "next train from here to Ronleigh's5.47. And," he added, encouragingly, "she's nearly always a bit late."
The boys wandered disconsolately through the booking-office of thelittle country station, and halted outside to consider what was to bedone.
"It's five-and-twenty past four," said Jack Vance, looking at his watch,"and it's a good six miles by road; we shall never walk it in the time."
"It's a good bit shorter by rail," mused Diggory, "if we could walkalong the line. That tunnel under Arrow Hill cuts off a long round."
"We couldn't do that," said Mugford; "there are notice-boards all overthe shop saying that trespassers on the railway will be prosecuted."
"Oh, bother that," cried Jack Vance, suddenly smitten with Diggory'sidea. "Who cares for notice-boards? We'll go home along the line.If we trot every now and then, we shall get back in time."
"Well, we'd better walk along the road as far as that curve," saidDiggory, "and then they won't see us from the station."
The trio started off in the direction indicated, hurrying along thepermanent way, hopping over the sleepers, and seeing how far they couldrun on one of the metals without falling off. At length they entered acutting, the steep banks of which rose gradually until they towered highabove their heads on either hand. Before long the mouth of the tunnelwas reached, and, as if by mutual consent, the three friends came to ahalt.
There was something forbidding about the dark, gloomy entrance--thestale, smoky smell, and the damp dripping from the roof, all tending togive it a very uninviting aspect.
"It's awfully long," said Mugford; "don't you think we'd better turnback?"
In their secret hearts his two companions were more than half inclinedto follow this suggestion; but there is a form of cowardice to whicheven the bravest are subject--namely, the fear of being thought afraid--and it was this, perhaps, which decided them to advance instead ofretreat.
"Oh no, we won't go back," cried Diggory. "Come along; I'll go first."And so saying, he plunged forward into the deep shadow of the archway.
The ground seemed to be plentifully strewn with ashes, which scrunchedunder their feet as they plodded along, and their voices sounded hollowand strange.
"My eye," said Jack, "it's precious dark. I can hardly see where I'mgoing."
"It'll be darker still before we see the end," answered Diggory. "Someone was telling me the other day that there's a curve in the middle."
"Hadn't we better go back?" faltered Mugford.
"No, you fathead; shut up."
The darkness seemed to increase, and the silence grew oppressive.
The boys were walking in single file, Diggory leading, and Jack Vancebringing up the rear.
"I say," exclaimed the latter, as he stumbled over a sleeper,"I shouldn't like to be caught here by a train."
"That can't happen," retorted Diggory; "didn't you hear the man saythere wasn't another till 5.47?"
"Yes," added Mugford; "but there might be a luggage, or one coming theother way."
"Well, all you'd have to do would be to cross over on to the otherline."
Imperceptibly the boys quickened their pace until it became almost atrot.
"Hurrah!" cried Diggory, a few moments later, as a far-distantsemicircle of daylight came into view. "There's the other end."
"Stop a minute," cried Jack, emboldened by the prospect of soon beingonce more in the fresh air; "let's see if we can make an echo."
The little party halted for a moment, but instead of hearing the shrillyell for the production of which Jack had just filled his lungs, theirears were greeted with a far more terrible sound, which caused theirhearts to stop beating. There was, it seemed, a sudden boom, followedby a long, continuous roar. Diggory turned his head, to find thefar-off patch of light replaced by a spark of fiery red, and theterrible truth flashed across his mind that in the excitement of themoment he could not remember for certain which was the down line.
It was well for the Triple Alliance that at least one of their numberwas blessed with the faculty of quick decision and prompt action, or thehistory of their friendship might have had a tragic ending.
Diggory wheeled round, and catching hold of Mugford, cried in a voiceloud enough to be heard above the ever-increasing din, "Quick! get into
the six-foot way, and lie down!"
What followed even those who underwent the experience could neverclearly describe. They flung themselves upon the ground: there were thethundering roar of an earthquake, coupled with a deafening clatter, asthough the whole place were falling about their ears, and a whirlinghurricane of hot air and steam.
In ten seconds, which seemed like ten minutes, the whole thing had comeand gone, and Diggory, scrambling to his feet in the dense darkness ofthe choking atmosphere, inquired in a shaky voice, "Are you all right,you chaps?"
There was a reply in the affirmative, and the three boys proceeded togrope their way along in silence, until the broad archway of thetunnel's mouth appeared through a fog of steam and smoke.
"I say, you fellows," cried Diggory, as they emerged into the fresh air,"I wouldn't go through there again for something."
"It was a good thing you gave me that shove," said Mugford; "I felt asthough I couldn't move. And we were standing on the very line it wentover."
"Yes: I couldn't remember for the moment which was 'up' and which was'down.' I thought, too, we should be safer lying flat on the groundwhen it passed; had we stood up in the six-foot way, we might have gotgiddy and fallen under the wheels."
The conversation was suddenly interrupted by a strange voice shouting,--
"Hullo, you young beggars! what are you a-doing there?"
The boys turned to see from whence this inquiry proceeded. Half-way upthe cutting on their left was a little hut, and beside it stood the manwho had spoken. The same glance showed them another thing--namely, thatjust beside this little shanty was one of the notice-boards Mugford hadmentioned, warning the public that persons found trespassing on therailway would be prosecuted.
"Come along," cried Jack Vance; "let's bolt."
Unless they doubled back into the tunnel, their only way of escape layin scaling the right side of the cutting, as a short distance down theline a gang of platelayers were at work, who would have intercepted thembefore they reached the open country.
"Come along," repeated Jack Vance, and the next moment he and his twocompanions were clambering as fast as they could up the steep side ofthe embankment, clutching at bushes and tufts of grass, and causingminiature landslips of sand and gravel with every step they took.
The man shouted after them to stop, and seeing that they paid noattention to his commands, promptly gave chase, rushing down the narrowpathway from the hut, and scrambling after them up the oppositeslope.
Jack Vance and Diggory, whose powers of wind and limb had benefited byconstant exercise in the football field, were soon at the top; butMugford, who was not inclined to be athletic, and who had already beenpretty nearly pumped in hurrying out of the tunnel; was still slowlydragging himself up the ascent, panting and puffing like a steam-engine,when his comrades reached the summit.
His pursuer was gaining on him rapidly, and it was in vain that his twofriends (too loyal to make good their escape alone) stood, and withfrantic gestures urged him to quicker movement. Just, however, as thecapture seemed certain, a great piece of loose earth giving way beneaththe man's weight caused the latter to fall forward on his face. In thisposture he tobogganed down the slope, with more force than elegance; andwith a yell of triumph Jack and Diggory stretched out their hands, anddragged Mugford up to the level grassy plateau on which they stood.
Close behind them was a wood, and without a moment's hesitation theyplunged through the hedge, and dashed on through the bushes. The drytwigs cracked, and the dead leaves rustled beneath their feet.Suddenly, not more than fifty yards away to their right, there was theloud explosion of a gun, and almost at the same instant a harsh-voiceshouted: "Hi there--stop! Where are you going?"
"Oh," panted Jack, "it's one of the keepers! Run for all you're worth!"
The opposite edge of the wood was not far distant. The three youngstersrushed wildly on, and stumbling blindly over the boundary hedge,continued their mad gallop across a narrow field. Over another hedge,and they were in a sunken roadway. Then came the end. Mugfordstaggered over to the opposite bank, and falling down upon it with hishand pressed to his side, gasped out, "Awful stitch--can't go anyfurther!"
Years afterwards, when the Triple Alliance met at an Old Boys' dinner,they laughed heartily in talking over this adventure; but there were nosigns of mirth on any of their faces at the time it was happening.Then as Jack Vance and Diggory stood staring blankly at each other inthe deepening winter twilight, they suddenly blossomed out into heroes--heroes, it is true, in flannel cricket-caps and turned-down collars,but heroes, at all events to my mind, as genuine in the spirit whichprompted their action as those whose deeds are known in song and story.The barking of a dog in the field above showed that the keeper wasfollowing up their trail.
"Bun for it!" panted Mugford; "don't wait for me!"
"Shan't!" said Jack and Diggory in one voice; and the latter, stickinghis hands in his trouser pockets, began to whistle.
"Go on!" cried Mugford.
"Shan't!" repeated his companions.
It was evident that the Triple Alliance would sink or swim together, andit so happened that by a piece of unexpected good fortune they weredestined to realize the latter alternative. There was a clatter ofwheels, the quick stamp of a fast-trotting horse, and a baker's cartcame swinging round the corner. Diggory, whose wits never seemed todesert him at a critical moment, recognized it at once as belongingto the man who supplied the school, and springing forward he beckoned tothe driver to stop, crying,--
"I say, give us a lift into Ronleigh, and we'll pay you a shilling.We belong to the college."
The man peered round the canvas covering, and at once recognized theboys' cap and crest.
"All right," he said. "Hop up; I'll find room for you somewhere."
The danger was past; with an audible sigh of relief the three youngstersclambered into the vehicle, and the next moment were bowling rapidlyalong in the direction of the town.
"I say," cried Jack, "this is a stroke of good luck. Why, we shall beback in time after all."
The remainder of their conversation was lost to the ears of the driver,but seemed to consist mainly of a series of attempts on the part ofMugford to say something, which were always interrupted by a chorus ofgroans, and shouts of "Shut up!" from his two companions.
At length the cart arrived at Ronleigh, and set down the threepassengers at the corner of Broad Street, the principal thoroughfare;and here their adventures seemed to have terminated.
I say _seemed_, because, as a matter of fact, something still remains tobe told in the history of this eventful day; but before proceeding tothe close of the chapter, it will be well to say a word or two withregard to a certain person connected with it who is as yet unknown tothe reader.
Ronleigh was fortunate in having a staff of masters who won the respectand confidence of the boys. Some poor-spirited fellows there are whowill always abuse those set in authority over them; but at Ronleighthere was happily, on the whole, a mutual good understanding, such asmight exist in a well and wisely disciplined regiment between officersand men.
Exceptions, however, prove the rule; and when at the commencement of thepresent winter term a new junior master had come to take charge of theThird Form, it was evident from the first that before long there wouldbe trouble. Mr. Grice was a very short man, with a pompous, hectoringmanner, which was, somehow, especially exasperating to fellows who stooda good head and shoulders taller than the master. His rule was foundedon the fear of punishment, and the sceptre which he wielded was a smallblack note-book, in which he entered the names of all offenders with anaccompanying "Hundred lines, Brown!" or "Write the lesson out afterschool, Smith." Lastly, Mr. Grice was not a gentleman. Boys, I know,pay little attention to the conventionalities, and are seldom foundconsulting books on etiquette; but those who have been well brought up,and accustomed at home to an air of refinement, are quick to detectill-breeding and bad manners in those older than themselves, and who"oug
ht to know better." So it came about that Mr. Grice was unpopular,and the boys in his class bemoaned their fate, and called himuncomplimentary nicknames.
We left the three friends standing at the corner of Broad Street.The church clock had just struck the quarter-past five, and by this timeit was dark, though the street was lit up by the gas-lamps and the longrows of shop windows.
"I hope no one sees us," said Jack Vance. "I'm mud all over. We mustlook sharp, or we shall be late."
"Hullo!" exclaimed Diggory, "look out! Here's that wretched littleGrice coming; there, he's stopped to look into the ironmonger's shop.We must dodge past him somehow, or he'll want to know where we'vebeen."
The trio crossed quickly over to the opposite side of the street, andhurried off at full speed in the direction of the school.
All boys were supposed to be on the school premises by half-past five,and at that time the door leading to the outer world was locked by theprefect for the day.
Oaks, who happened to be on duty, was standing in the passage talking toAllingford when the three juveniles arrived, out of breath and flushedwith running.
"Hullo, you kids! where have you been?" inquired the captain.
Diggory launched out into a brief description of their many adventures;Oaks laughed heartily. "Well," he said, pulling out his watch, "you'vejust got back in time; half a minute more, and you'd have been outside,my boys."
The prefect locked the door, and continuing his conversation withAllingford, started off down the passage. On reaching what was the maincorridor on the ground floor, they paused for a moment, and stoodwarming their hands at the hot-water pipe, and it was while thus engagedthat they were suddenly accosted by Mr. Grice, who bustled up to them ina great state of excitement.
"Are you on duty, Oaks?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have any boys come in late?"
"No, sir."
"Well, three boys passed me in the town; I think one of them was youngTrevanock. I called to them to stop, but they took no notice. Whenthey come in, you send than to me."
"They weren't late, sir," answered Oaks; "they came in about a minuteago."
"Oh, nonsense. I looked at my watch when I saw them in the town, andthen it was five-and-twenty past; they couldn't have come up in fiveminutes. You must either have let them in, or not closed the door atthe proper time."
Prefects at Ronleigh were not in the habit of being lectured as thoughthey were lower-school boys. Oaks bit his lip.
"I closed the door on the stroke of half-past," he answered.
"Well, you say those boys came in about two minutes ago. By me it's nowtwenty to six, so they must have been late."
"They were in before half-past, sir; your watch must be wrong."
"Don't keep contradicting me, sir," said the master.
"We are supposed to work by the school clock, sir," interposed thecaptain.
"I'm not aware that I addressed any remark to you, Allingford," retortedMr. Grice, rapidly losing all control of his temper. "You need make nofurther attempt to teach me the rules of the school; I flatter myselfthat I am sufficiently well versed in them already."
A crowd of idlers, attracted by the angry tones of the master's voice,had begun to collect in the passage, and the captain flushed to theroots of his hair at being thus taken to task in public.
"I merely said, sir, that we work by the school clock."
"And I say, hold your tongue, sir.--Oaks, remember you report thosethree boys for being late."
"I can't do that, sir," answered Oaks stolidly, "for they were in time."
Mr. Grice boiled over. "You are a very impertinent fellow," he cried."I shall report you both to the doctor." And so saying, he turned onhis heel and walked away.
There was a buzz of astonishment among the bystanders. The idea of acaptain of Ronleigh being reported to the doctor was something novelindeed, and by the time the first bell rang for tea, a report of thecollision between Mr. Grice and the prefects had spread all over theschool.
