The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch

by Talbot Baines Reed

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  HOW MY MASTER DID NOT CATCH THE FISH HE EXPECTED.

  About ten years before the time of my story it had happened that in afamous battle fought between her Majesty's troops and those of a hostileand savage king, the colours of the 300th Regiment were noticed to be inimminent peril of capture. The ensign who carried them was wounded, andalready a score of the enemy were rushing forward to seize the prize andcarry it off in triumph to their king. Suddenly, however, there dashedup to the spot a young cornet of dragoons, who, seeing the peril of hisfellow-officer and the colours he carried, dragged him, flag and all, upnearly into his own saddle, and started off with his precious burdentowards a place of shelter from the fire and spears of the savages.Before, however, he had gone twenty yards the poor ensign tumbled to theground, shot through the heart, yielding with his dying hands hiscolours to the dragoon. That plucky young soldier, wrapping the tornand stained flag round his body, set his teeth, stooped forward in hissaddle, and, digging his spurs into his horse, galloped for his life.He had a terrific gauntlet to run, and grandly he ran it. The friendlytrench was in sight, the cheers of his comrades fell like music on hisears, a vision of glory and honour flashed through his mind, and thensuddenly he reeled forward in his seat--a malignant shot had found himout at last, and, with the colours round him, he dropped from his horseinto his comrades' arms a dead man.

  This hero was an old Randlebury boy; and ever since that day, on everyanniversary of his glorious death, Randlebury kept, and still keeps,holiday.

  All this Charlie was informed of by his faithful chum, Jim Halliday, asthe former was dressing himself on the morning of the eventful holidayin question.

  What possessed him to get up at six, when he was not to start till nine,I cannot say. He even routed me from under his pillow at five, sofidgety was he, and as soon as ever I pointed to six he bounced out ofbed as if he was shot.

  "What are you up to, getting up at this time?" growled Jim, who, much tothe mutual delight of the boys, slept in the same room with Charlie.

  "Oh, you know; I don't want to be behindhand," replied Charlie.

  "Behindhand! Why, do you know it's only just six?"

  "I know that, and I mean to make the most of my holiday. I say, Jim,what do they want to give us a holiday for, do you know?"

  "They don't want to at all; they've got to."

  "Got to? What do you mean?" inquired Charlie, dragging on his boots.

  And then Jim, with many yawns and growls, told him the story; and,without waiting for his comments thereon, rolled over and went off tosleep again.

  Charlie spent his early hour in polishing up things generally. When hehad polished up his rod with the lance-wood top, he polished up hisgreen can and his hooks. Then he warmed me up with a piece of wash-leather, and then his many-fanged knife.

  By the time these little jobs were accomplished, and Joe's study put inorder, the breakfast bell sounded, and he went down with a mouth sorewith whistling.

  He caught sight of Tom Drift at another table, and nodded and waved hisgreen can to him; he informed every boy within hearing distance that itwas certain to be a fine day, whatever it looked like now; and he madethe wildest and most indiscriminate promises to entertain his wholeacquaintance at no end of a trout supper on the spoils of that day'ssport. Twenty times during breakfast did he pull me out and lookimpatiently at my minute-hand slowly making its way from eight to nine;and as soon as ever the meal was over he rushed upstairs like mad forhis rod and bag, and then tore down again four steps at a time, nearlyknocking the head master over at the bottom.

  "Gently, my man," said that gentleman, recognising in this cannon-ballof a young fellow his little travelling companion. "Why, what's thematter?"

  "I beg your pardon, doctor," said Charlie; "did I hurt you?"

  "Not a bit. So you are going to fish to-day?"

  "Yes, sir," said the beaming Charlie. "I say, sir, do you think it'llbe a fine day?"

  "I hope so--good-bye. I suppose this can will be full when you comeback?"

  "Good-bye, sir," said Charlie, secretly resolving that if fortunefavoured him he would present the two finest of his trout to the doctor.

  He found Drift ready for him when he reached that young gentleman'sstudy.

  Besides his rod, Tom had a somewhat cumbersome bag, which, as it carriedmost of the provisions for the whole party, he was not a little surlyabout being burdened with.

  Charlie, of course, thought it was his and Tom's dinner.

  "Is that the grub?" he cried. "Why, Tom Drift, you have been laying ina spread! What a brick you are! Look here, I'd carry it--isn't it aweight, though! If we get all this inside us two we shan't starve!"

  And so they started, Charlie lugging along the bag and whistling like alark.

  "Looks cloudy," said Tom, who felt he must say something or other.

  "Never mind, all the better for the trout, you know. I say, I wish Ihad my fly on the water this minute."

  As Tom was silent, Charlie kept up the conversation by himself.

  "I say, Tom Drift," said he, "if your mother could only see us two chapsgoing off for a day's fishing she--"

  "Look here, draw it mild about my mother, young un. She can take careof herself well enough."

  Charlie blushed to the roots of his hair at this rebuke, and for sometime the flow of his conversation was arrested.

  It was a good four miles from Randlebury to Sharle Bridge; and long erethey reached it Charlie's arm ached with the ponderous bag he wascarrying. He did not, however, like to say anything, still less to askTom to take a turn at carrying it; so he plodded on, changing handsevery few minutes, and buoying himself up with the prospect of the riverand the trout.

  Presently they came within sight of the signpost which marks thejunction of the Gurley and Sharle Bridge roads.

  "Here we are at last!" cried Charlie, panting and puffing. "I say, TomDrift, I don't believe I could have carried this bag any farther if I'dtried."

  "It'll be lighter when we go home. Hullo! who are these three?" for atthis moment Gus, Margetson, and Shadbolt made their appearance.

  "They look like Randlebury fellows by their caps. Oh, I know who one ofthem is," added Charlie-- "Margetson, in the fourth; don't you knowhim?"

  "Rather!" replied Tom; "and the other two are Shaddy and Gus. Who'dhave thought of meeting _them_!" and he gave a whistle, which succeededin attracting the attention of the worthy trio.

  Of course their surprise at meeting Tom and his companion was no lessgreat--in fact, they had to inquire who the youngster was.

  "Where are you off to?" demanded Gus.

  "We're going to try our luck up the Sharle," said Tom.

  "You'll be sold if you do," said Gus. "We were down looking at it, anda pretty state it's in. Old Skinner at the Tannery took it into hishead to leave his gates up last night, and his muck has got into theriver and poisoned every fish in it--hasn't it, Shad?"

  "Rather!" replied Shad. "I was glad enough to get my nose away from theplace."

  "Here's a go, Charlie!" said Tom, turning to his young companion.

  During this short conversation Charlie had passed through all theanguish of a bitter disappointment. It is no light thing to have thehope of days snuffed out all in a moment, and he was ready to cry withvexation. However it couldn't be helped, and he had learned before nowhow to take a disappointment like a man. So when Tom appealed to him heput a good face on it, and said,--

  "Awful hard lines. Never mind, let's go back and see the match with theBadgers, Tom."

  "Why don't you come with us?" asked Gus. "We are going to Gurley; haveyou ever been to Gurley, young un?"

  "No," said Charlie.

  "Come along, then, we'll show it you. It's a prime town, isn't it,Margetson?"

  "Don't ask me," said Margetson; "I'd sooner see about Gurley than catcha seven-pounder, any day."

  "And besides," said Tom, "isn't there some good fishing above the loc
k!Come along, Charlie; we shall not be baulked of our day's sport afterall."

  Charlie joined the party, although he did not conceive any greatadmiration for Tom's three friends. His anxiety not to offend his nowreconciled enemy, and the possibility of fishing after all, overruledhim; and still dragging the bag, he trudged along with the otherstowards Gurley.

  As they approached the town he could not help noticing the number ofholiday-makers and vehicles that passed them. There were drags full ofgaily-dressed ladies; and gentlemen who wore veils; and there were lightjaunty dog-carts with spruce young white-hatted gentlemen perched inthem; there were vans in which corks were popping like musketry firesand parties on foot like themselves, hurrying forward with loud laughterand coarse music.

  "Surely," thought he, "there's something on at Gurley."

  Presently a waggonette, driven by a very loud youth in a check suit, andwith an enormous cigar in his mouth, pulled up in passing, and itsdriver addressed Gus.

  "So you've found _your_ way here, have you, my young bantam? Catch_you_ being out of a good thing. Are you going on the grand stand?"

  "Don't know," said Gus grandly. "We may pick up a trap in the town."

  "Ho, ho! going to do it flash, are you? Well, there's one of you coulddo with a little spice," added he, glancing at Charlie. "I suppose mytrap's not grand enough for you."

  "Can you give us a lift, then, Bill?" asked Gus, charmed at the idea.

  "Yes, to be sure; I've no company to-day. There's just room. Hop in.I may as well turn an honest penny as not. Here, you young sinner, jumpup beside me on the box." And before Charlie knew where he was orwhither he was going he found himself on the box of the waggonettebeside the flash youth, and his four friends behind him inside.

  "Who's your friend, Gus?" he heard Margetson ask.

  "Son of Belsham, who keeps the `Green Tiger' at Randlebury. We're inluck, I can tell you, you fellows."

  As Charlie gradually recovered from his bewilderment he felt himselfextremely uncomfortable and ill at ease. From what had been said he hadgathered that the object of the boys in going to Gurley was somethingmore than to see the town; and he by no means liked Gus's new friend, orapproved of his easy familiarity with a low publican's son. It was notlong before his dawning suspicions were fully confirmed.

  "So you're going to see the races?" asked Mr Belsham.

  "No, I'm not," replied Charlie, as curtly as he could, for he had nodesire to encourage the conversation of this objectionable person.

  "Ain't you? And what are you going to do, then, my young lamb?" And inthe course of this brief sentence Mr Belsham succeeded in interjectingat least three oaths.

  "I shan't speak to you if you swear," said Charlie; "it's wrong toswear."

  "No! is it? Who says that?"

  "My father says so," blurted out Charlie, fully satisfied that no betterreason could be demanded.

  Belsham laughed, and turning to the four inside, said,--

  "I say, young gentlemen, this young pippin tells me he's got a fatherwho says it's wrong to swear. What do you think of that?"

  "His father must be an amusing man," replied Gus.

  "Wait till we get on to the course," said Margetson; "he'll hearsomething to astonish him there, young prig!"

  "I'm not going to the races!" cried my master, starting from his seat,and now fully alive to the fraud of which he had been made the victim."How could you do this, Tom Drift! Let me down, will you!" and hestruggled so desperately with Belsham that that gentleman was obliged tolet go the reins in order to hold him.

  Of course it was no use his resisting. Amid the shouts and jeers of hisschoolfellows he was held on to the box. In vain he pleaded, besought,struggled, threatened; there he was compelled to stay, all throughGurley and out to the racecourse. Here he found himself in the midst ofa yelling, blaspheming, drunken multitude, from the sight of whose facesand the sound of whose words his soul revolted so vehemently that itlent new vigour to his exhausted frame, and urged him to one lastdesperate struggle to free himself and escape from his tormentors.

  "Look here," said Belsham to Gus; "if you suppose I'm going to have allmy fun spoiled by looking after this cub of yours while you're enjoyingyourselves there inside, you're mistaken; here, look after himyourselves."

  So saying, he dragged Charlie from his seat and swung him down into thewaggonette with such force that he lay there half stunned and incapableof further resistance, and so for the time being saved his persecutors agood deal of trouble.

  And indeed had it been otherwise it is hardly likely they would havejust then been able to pay him much attention, for at that moment thehorses were all drawn up at the starting-post, waiting for the signal togo.

  That was a feverish moment for Tom Drift. He had bet all his money onone horse, and if that horse did not win, he would lose every penny ofit.

  As usual, he had repented a hundred times of that day's business, andthe last brutal outrage on poor Charlie had called up even in his searedbreast a fleeting feeling of indescribable shame. It was, alas! onlyfleeting.

  Next moment he forgot all but the horses. There they stood in a longrestless line. A shout! and they were off. In the first wild scramblehe could catch a sight of the colours on which his hopes depended nearthe front. On they came like the wind. A man near shouted the name ofTom's horse--"It's winning," and Tom's head swam at the sound. On stillnearer, and now they have passed. In the retreating, straggling crowdhe can see his horse still, but it seems to be going back instead offorward. Like a torrent the others overhaul and pass it. Then a loudershout than usual proclaims the race over, and the favourite beaten, andTom staggers down to his seat sick and half stupid.

  "Never mind, old man," he heard Gus say, "luck's against you this time;you'll have your turn some day. Take some of this, man, and never saydie."

  And Tom, reckless in his misery, took the proffered bottle, and drankdeeply.

  It was late in the afternoon before Belsham thought of turning hishorse's head homeward, and by that time Charlie, on the floor of thewaggonette, was slowly beginning to recover consciousness.