CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
THE FIGHT THAT DID NOT COME OFF.
On reaching Saint Dominic's the three boys discovered that the news oftheir afternoon's adventure had arrived there before them. Paul,despite his promise of secrecy, had not been able to refrain fromconfiding to one or two bosom friends, in strict confidence, his versionof the _fracas_ on the tow-path. Of course the story became frightfullydistorted in its progress from mouth to mouth, but it flew like wildfirethrough Saint Dominic's all the same.
When Oliver and his friend with Stephen entered the school-house, groupsof inquisitive boys eyed them askance and whispered as they went by. Itseemed quite a disappointment to not a few that the three did not appearcovered with blood, or as pale as sheets, or with broken limbs. No oneknew exactly what had happened, but every one knew something hadhappened, and it would have been much more satisfactory if the heroes ofthe hour had had something to show for it.
Oliver was in no mood for gratifying the curiosity of anybody, andstalked off to his study in gloomy silence, attended by his chum and theanxious Stephen.
A hurried council of war ensued.
"I must go and challenge Loman at once," said Oliver.
"Let me go," said Wraysford.
"Why?"
"Because most likely if you go you'll have a row in his study. Muchbetter wait and have it out decently in the gymnasium. I'll go and tellhim."
Oliver yielded to this advice.
"Look sharp, old man," he said, "that's all."
Wraysford went off on his mission without delay.
He found Loman in his study with his books before him.
"Greenfield senior wants me to say he'll meet you after tea in thegymnasium if you'll come there," said the ambassador.
Loman, who was evidently prepared for the scene, looked up angrily as hereplied, "Fight me? What does he want to fight me for, I should like toknow!"
"You know as well as I do," said Wraysford.
"I know nothing about it, and what's more I'll have nothing to do withthe fellow. Tell him that."
"Then you won't fight?" exclaimed the astounded Wraysford.
"No, I won't to please him. When I've nothing better to do I'll do it;"and with the words his face flushed crimson as he bent it once more overhis book.
Wraysford was quite taken aback by this unexpected answer, and hesitatedbefore he turned to go.
"Do you hear what I say?" said Loman. "Don't you see I'm working?"
"Look here," said Wraysford, "I didn't think you were a coward."
"Think what you like. Do you suppose I care? If Greenfield wants sobadly to fight me, why didn't he do it last term when I gave him thechance? Get out of my study, and tell him I'll have nothing to do withhim or any of your stuck-up Fifth!"
Wraysford stared hard at the speaker and then said, "I suppose you'reafraid to fight _me_, either?"
"If you don't clear out of my study I'll report you to the Doctor,that's what I'll do," growled Loman.
There was no use staying, evidently; and Wraysford returned dejectedlyto Oliver.
"He won't fight," he announced.
"Not fight!" exclaimed Oliver. "Why ever not?"
"I suppose because he's a coward. He says because he doesn't choose."
"But he _must_ fight, Wray. We must make him!"
"You can't. I called him a coward, and that wouldn't make him. You'llhave to give it up this time, Noll."
But Oliver wouldn't hear of giving it up so easily. He got up andrushed to Loman's study himself. But it was locked. He knocked, no oneanswered. He called through the keyhole, but there was no reply.Evidently Loman did not intend to fight, and Oliver returned crestfallenand disappointed to his study.
"It's no go," he said, in answer to his friend's inquiry.
"Oh, well, never mind," said Wraysford. "Even if you could have fought,I dare say it wouldn't have done much good, for he's such a sullenbeggar there would have been no making it up afterwards. If I were youI wouldn't bother any more about it. I'll let all the fellows know herefused to fight you!"
"What's the use of that?" said Oliver. "Why tell them anything aboutit?"
But tell them or not tell them, the fellows knew already. It had oozedout very soon that a fight was coming off, and instantly the wholeschool was in excitement. For, however little some of them cared aboutthe personal quarrel between Oliver and Loman, a fight between Fifth andSixth was too great an event to be passed by unheeded.
The Fifth were delighted. They knew their man could beat Loman any dayof the week, and however much they had once doubted his courage, now itwas known he was the challenger every misgiving on that score was doneaway with.
"I tell you," said Ricketts to a small knot of his class-fellows, "hecould finish him up easily in one round."
"Yes," chimed in another knowing one, "Loman's got such a wretched knackof keeping up his left elbow, that he's not a chance. A child could getin under his guard, I tell you; and as for wind, he's no more wind thanan old paper bag!"
"I wish myself it was a closer thing, as long as our man won," said TomSenior, with a tinge of melancholy in his voice. "It will be such amiserably hollow affair I'm afraid."
"I'm sorry it's not Wren, or Callonby, or one of them," said another ofthese amiable warriors; "there'd be some pleasure in chawing them up."
At this moment up came Pembury, with a very long face.
"It's no fight after all, you fellows," said he. "Loman funks it!"
"What! he won't fight!" almost shrieked the rest. "It must be wrong."
"Oh, all right, if it's wrong," snarled Pembury. "I tell you there's nofight; you can believe it or not as you like," and off he hobbled, inunusual ill-humour.
This was a sad blow to the Fifth. They saw no comfort anywhere. Theyflocked to Oliver's study, but he was not there, and Wraysford's doorwas locked. The news, however, was confirmed by other reporters, and ingreat grief and profound melancholy the Fifth swallowed their tea, andwondered if any set of fellows were so unlucky as they.
But their rage was as nothing to that of the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles.
These amiable young animals had of course sniffed the battle from afarvery early in the evening, and, as usual, rushed into all sorts ofextremes of enthusiasm on the subject. A fight! A fight between Fifthand Sixth! A fight between Greenfield senior and a monitor! Oh, it wastoo good to be true, a perfect luxury; something to be grateful for, andno mistake!
Of course a meeting was forthwith assembled to gloat over the auspiciousevent.
Bramble vehemently expressed his conviction that the Sixth Form manwould eat up his opponent, and went the length of offering to cut offhis own head and Padger's if it turned out otherwise.
Paul and his friends, on the other hand, as vehemently backed the Fifthfellow.
"When's it to come off, I say?" demanded Bramble.
"To-night, I should say, or first thing in the morning."
"Sure to be to-night. My eye! won't Greenfield senior look black andblue after it!"
"No, he won't," cried Paul.
"Turn him out!" shouted Bramble. "No one wants you here; do we, Padger?Get yourself out of the meeting, you sneak!"
"Get yourself out!" retorted Paul.
The usual lively scene ensued, at the end of which the door suddenlyopened, and a boy entered.
"Look sharp," he cried: "it's half over by now. They were--"
But what the end of his sentence was to be, history recordeth not. Witha simultaneous yell the youngsters rushed headlong from the room, downthe passages, out at the door, across the quadrangle, and into thegymnasium. Alas! it was empty. Only the gaunt parallel bars, and idleswings, and melancholy vaulting-horse.
With a yelp of anger the pack cried back, and made once more for theschool-house. At the door they met Stephen.
"Where's the fight, young Greenfield?" shouted Bramble.
"Nowhere," replied Stephen.
"What! not comin
g off?" shrieked the youngsters.
"No," laconically answered Stephen.
"Has your brother funked it again?" demanded Bramble, in his usualconciliatory way.
"He never funked, you young cad!" retorted the young brother.
"Yes, he did, didn't he, Padger? That time, you know, last term. But Isay, Greenfield junior, why ever's the fight not coming off?"
"Loman won't fight, that's why," said Stephen; and then, having hadquite enough of catechising, turned on his heel and left the indignantyoungsters to continue their rush back to the Fourth Junior, there tospend an hour or so in denouncing the caddishness of everybody and tomake up by their own conflicts for the shortcomings of others.
Oliver meanwhile had settled down as best he could once more to work,and tried to forget all about the afternoon's adventures. But for along time they haunted him and disturbed him. Gradually, however, hefound himself cooling down under the influence of Greek accents andRoman history.
"After all," said he to Wraysford, "if the fellow is a coward why need Ibother? Only I should have rather liked to thrash him for what he didto Stee."
"Never mind--thrash him over the Nightingale instead."
The mention of the Nightingale, however, did not serve to heightenOliver's spirits at all.
He turned dejectedly to his books, but soon gave up further study.
"You can go on if you like," said he to Wraysford. "I can't. It's nouse. I think I shall go to bed."
"What! It's not quite nine yet."
"Is that all it is? Never mind; good-night, old man. I'm glad it willall be over on Monday."
Before Oliver went to bed he had a talk with Stephen in his study. Hesucceeded in putting pretty vividly before his young brother theposition in which he had placed himself by going down to thepublic-house and associating with a man like Cripps.
"What I advise you is, to make a clean breast of it to the Doctor atonce. If he hears of it any other way, you're done for." Olivercertainly had an uncompromising way of putting things.
"Oh, Noll, I never could! I know I couldn't. I say, will you? You cantell him anything you like."
Oliver hesitated a moment, and then said, "All serene; I'll do it.Mind, I must tell him everything, though."
"Oh, yes! I say, do you think I'll be expelled?"
"I hope not. There's no knowing, though."
"Oh, Noll! what _shall_ I do?"
"It's your only chance, I tell you. If Cripps comes up and talks aboutit, or Loman tells, you're sure to be expelled."
"Well," said Stephen, with a gulp, "I suppose you'd better tell him,Noll. Need I come too?"
"No, better not," said Oliver. "I'll go and see if he's in his studynow. You go up stairs, and I'll come and tell you what he says."
Stephen crawled dismally away, leaving his brother to fulfil hisself-imposed task.
Oliver went straight to the Doctor's study. The door stood half-open,but the Doctor was not there. He entered, and waited inside a couple ofminutes, expecting that the head master would return; but no one came.After all, he would have to put off his confession of Stephen'sdelinquencies till to-morrow; and, half relieved, half disappointed, hequitted the room. As he came out he encountered Simon in the passage.
"Hullo, Greenfield!" said that worthy; "what have you been up to inthere?"
"I want the Doctor," said Oliver; "do you know where he is?"
"If saw him go up stairs a minute ago; that is, I mean down stairs, youknow," said the lucid poet.
This information was sufficiently vague to determine Oliver not toattempt a wild-goose chase after the Doctor that night, so, bidding ahurried good-night to Simon, he took his way down the passage which ledto Stephen's dormitory.
He had not, however, gone many steps when a boy met him. It was Loman.There was a momentary struggle in Oliver's breast. Here was the--veryopportunity which an hour or two ago he had so eagerly desired. Thewhole picture of that afternoon's adventures came up before his mind,and he felt his blood tingle as his eyes caught sight of Stephen'spersecutor. Should he pay off the score now?
Loman saw him, and changed colour. He evidently guessed what waspassing through his enemy's mind, for a quick flush came to his face andan angry scowl to his brow.
Oliver for one moment slackened pace. Then suddenly there came upon hima vision of Stephen's appealing face as he interceded that afternoon forthe boy who had done him such mischief, and that vision settled thething.
Hurriedly resuming his walk, Oliver passed Loman with averted eyes, andwent on his way.
"Well?" said Stephen, in the midst of undressing, as his brother enteredthe dormitory.
"He wasn't there. I'll see him in the morning," said Oliver."Good-night, Stee."
"Good-night, Noll, old man! I say, you are a brick to me!" and as theboy spoke there was a tremble in his voice which went straight to hisbrother's heart.
"You are a brick to me!" A pretty "brick" he had been, letting theyoungster drift anywhere--into bad company, into bad ways, withoutholding out a hand to warn him; and in the end coming to his help onlyby accident, and serving him by undertaking a task which would quitepossibly result in his expulsion from the school.
A brick, indeed! Oliver went off to his own bed that night moredispirited and dissatisfied with himself than he had ever felt before.And all through his dreams his brother's troubled face looked up at him,and the trembling voice repeated, again and again, "You are a brick tome--a brick to me!"
The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's: A School Story Page 22
