The Hero of Garside School

by J. Harwood Panting

  CHAPTER XIII

  A CHALLENGE FROM ST. BEDE'S

  The two boys who entered with the "Beetle" were Baldry and Sedgefield,the companions of Plunger. The Beetle was a sturdy, but ratherheavy-featured, boy of fourteen. He wore the St. Bede's cap--dark clothwith a white shield in front, on which were worked in old Englishletters, "St. B.," while beneath these were three Roman capitals--"S. S.V.," the initials of the school motto, "Suis stet viribus"--"He standson his merit."

  "Why, it's Mellor," came the cry, so soon as the face of the boy fromSt. Bede's could be clearly seen.

  Yes, it was Mellor, till recently a pupil at Garside, and formerly anoccupant of the dormitory in which Harry Moncrief, Baldry and the othersslept. He had left Garside last term, and, much to the disgust of hisformer associates, had entered as a pupil of St. Bede's. The fact wasthat it was not so much Mellor's work as his father's. Mellor was goodat sport, but not quite as keen on learning, so that he had remained fortwo years in the same form along with boys who were much younger thanhimself. Mellor, of course, put it down to the school, and not to anylack of diligence on his part. His father fell in with the view of hisson, believing him to be a "clever boy--unmistakably clever"--if thecleverness were only brought out. In the hope that this cleverness wouldbe brought out, he had been taken from Garside and turned over to St.Bede's.

  Now the conversion of a "Gargoyle" into a "Beetle" was not an easyprocess. He had to fit himself into new surroundings, new conditions,new methods, with new companions. And while these new companions hadgiven him a cool reception, his old companions, thinking him fair gamefor ridicule and sport now that he had "gone over to the enemy," haddetermined on giving him a warm reception at the first opportunity.

  It so happened that on the third day of Mellor's entrance at St. Bede'she chanced to meet Parfitt and a couple of companions of his in theFifth. They had promptly seized on Mellor, and after congratulating himwith mock gravity on rising to the "dignity of a Beetle," had ended bymaking him crawl on all fours "as a Beetle ought," and, using his backas a desk, had finally written this note on a slip of paper--"Beetle,otherwise cockroach--nocturnal insect, concealing itself in holes duringthe day, and crawling off at the approach of light."

  This flattering description they had pinned to Mellor's back, with anintimation that he was to crawl back to his brother Beetles as quicklyas possible or he would be "squashed before he could get to his holeagain." Mellor, smarting under these indignities, had hastened back toSt. Bede's and placed the note in the hands of one of the boys belongingto the corresponding form to that of his tormentors.

  The Fifth had duly considered it, and a day later had despatched ananswer with Mellor. And this was the answer: "Gargoyle, otherwisespout--receiving things that come from gutters. Meant to frighten peopleby making ugly faces. Good for little else. If the Fifth Form has oneGargoyle of any pluck amongst them, he will find a Fifth Form Beetleready to meet him at the sand-pit, Cranstead Common, to-morrowafternoon, three sharp."

  "It's a challenge," said Hasluck.

  "Read it out," came in a chorus.

  And Hasluck read it out.

  "Don't you think you've got a lot of cheek to bring a note like that,Mellor," remarked Arbery when Hasluck had finished.

  "Not half as much as Parfitt had in writing the one he sent by me,"retorted Mellor indignantly.

  "What does it feel like, being a Beetle?" asked Leveson politely."Kitchen stuff's fattening, isn't it?"

  "After going about on all fours, don't you find it a bit tricky to standon your hind legs again?" remarked Arbery. "Want a balancing-pole, don'tyou?"

  Before Mellor could reply, a mysterious gurgling sound came from thedirection in which Devey was standing.

  "Hallo, Devey, what's wrong?" demanded Hasluck, as every eye turned inhis direction.

  "Wrong? Nothing wrong! What do you mean?" retorted Devey, quite blushingat thus suddenly becoming the object of general attention.

  "Thought you were trying to laugh. Never heard such a screech. Like alaughing hyena with the toothache. Don't do it again, there's a goodchap. It'll get on our nerves."

  "I haven't done anything, I tell you," exclaimed the indignant Devey. "Ididn't laugh."

  "It came from your corner. It must have been some of those youngsters ofthe Third eavesdropping outside. Chase 'em away a bit, Arbery."

  Arbery, accompanied by Leveson, darted out with the object of giving the"youngsters of the Third" a bad time, but after searching around theshed, could find no sign of their presence.

  "They must have scooted before we could get to them," reported Arbery onhis return to the shed. "I can guess pretty well who it was--Plunger andhis set."

  Again that sound from Devey's corner which Hasluck had described as "alaughing hyena with the toothache"; and again all eyes went to Devey.

  "Well, what the dickens are you staring at?" Devey indignantly demanded,when he thought that he had borne this scrutiny with enough patience.

  "Beetles are bad enough, Devey, without paroquets," remarked Hasluckreproachfully. "If you feel bad, you'd better go out. We'll excuse you."

  "It's not me, I tell you. I didn't laugh. It came from outside, or theroof, or--or somewhere," protested Devey.

  Arbery and Leveson darted out again, with the same result as before. Butthey saw shadows in the distance which they believed to be some of theirtormentors, and it was decided that they should take up a positionclose to the door, and at once dart out if the sound were repeated.

  Devey was, of course, perfectly truthful when he had denied making thecurious sound which had so startled his companions. Nor had it come fromthe "youngsters of the Third" outside. It came, as the reader hasguessed, from the box in which Mr. Freddy Plunger was reposing. Atfirst, when the heavy weight of Devey had rested on the box, he thoughtthat he would have been suffocated. But when, in the excitement causedby the unexpected entrance of Mellor with his challenge from St. Bede's,Devey had risen with the other fellows, and remained standing, Plungerbreathed more freely, and began to feel quite light-hearted again.

  He felt just as excited as any of those outside at what was happeningand entered just as thoroughly into the scene, so that when Leveson andArbery began to question Mellor about the peculiarities of "a Beetle,"he felt that he must laugh or choke. The result was the curious noisewhich had been put down first to Devey, then to the boys outside. No oneguessed for a moment that it came from the box before which Devey wasstanding. When the stir caused by this incident had subsided, attentionwas once more turned to Mellor.

  "Well, Mellor, you haven't answered our questions yet," said Parfitt,taking up the fire. "What does it feel like to be a Beetle?"

  Mellor flamed up the instant Parfitt spoke. It was Parfitt who had setupon him and badgered him, and written the note which had stirred up somuch feeling at St. Bede's against Garside.

  "You're a cad and a coward!" he cried hotly. "I don't want to answer youor speak to you either."

  Parfitt, stung by the boy's words, moved towards him to clutch him bythe ear. But Paul was quicker, and stood between them.

  "Hands off, Parfitt! Mellor's here as a messenger from the Fifth of St.Bede's to us, the Fifth of Garside. Don't drag us in the mud! Let's befair! They've sent us a challenge. Let's be polite enough to answerit."

  "Interfering again," sneered Parfitt. "Always poking your nose where itisn't wanted!"

  "Don't get waxy, Parfitt," remonstrated Hasluck. "Percival's quiteright. It isn't nice perhaps to know that one of our fellows has goneover to the Beetles, but there it is. It can't be helped. What's donecan't very well be undone. Let's be fair, and let's be polite. There,I'm with Percival, and so, I think, are the rest of you." ("Hear, hear,hear," from the rest, with the exception of Parfitt, who felt rathersmall.) "Shall we send an answer?"

  "Yes, yes."

  "I knew well enough you'd say 'Yes.' Well, the next point is, what's theanswer to be?"

  "I think there can be only one answer," exclaimed Newall, speaking
forthe first time. "The Fifth Form Gargoyle is quite ready to meet theFifth Form Beetle at the sand-pit, Cranstead Common, to-morrowafternoon, three sharp."

  At once a cheer broke out in favour of Newall's suggestion.

  "As Parfitt wrote the elegant little note which has brought this stormupon us, he'd better write the answer," said Hasluck.

  This suggestion also met with general approval. Parfitt hesitated, butat length wrote the note as dictated by Newall. Hasluck read it out.

  "Will it do?" he questioned when he had finished.

  "Agreed, agreed!" was the answering shout. Paul alone remained silent.His face was unusually grave. He had come there on a peaceful mission,and the peaceful mission had ended in a declaration of war.

  "There you are, Mellor; take that and give it to your brother Beetles,with the compliments and best wishes of the Fifth," he said, as hefolded up the note and handed it to Mellor. "Now cut!"

  "Cut isn't the word," said Arbery, as he opened the door. "Crawl!"

  Mellor darted out of the shed with the note, without waiting for anyfurther references to the new title conferred upon him.

  "Won't you eat your words in the sand-pit to-morrow!" he cried as aparting shot.

  "The cheeky beggar got the last word in anyhow," quoth Arbery as heclosed the door.

  Dead silence followed for a minute or two, then it was broken byHasluck.

  "You called us here, Percival," he said, turning to Paul, "to talk overthe triangular squabble between you and Moncrief and Newall. You don'tmind us putting that off for a bit? This is the thing we've got tosettle, this cheeky challenge from the Beetles."

  Paul, seeing there was no help for it, nodded assent.

  "And you, Newall?"

  Newall nodded in turn.

  "Good! Well, then, having decided to take up the challenge from St.Bede's, the next thing to settle is, who's to be our champion at thesand-pit to-morrow?"

  No one seemed in a great hurry to answer that question, but at lengthNewall, a curious smile hovering about his lips, said:

  "We're all of us anxious for the job, that's the reason we're so silent.But I'd like to propose one as our champion who'd do uscredit--Percival."

  Had a thunderbolt fallen in the shed, the boys of the Fifth could nothave been more startled than when they heard Paul's name. Was Newall inearnest, or was he poking fun? It was hard to tell, for the curioussmile that had hovered about his lips was there no longer. It had quitevanished, and his face was the gravest amongst them.

  "Percival!" he repeated with emphasis. "He's done me a lot of honour.He's done me the honour of calling you fellows together to settle aquarrel between Moncrief and me. He's done me honour in the nice thingshe has said of me. Well, I'd like to do him a little in turn. Therecan't be a greater honour than representing the Fifth as champion of theForm. It's one that I'd jump at myself, but after what has taken place,after all that Percival has said about the honour of the Form, I canonly take a back seat. He comes first. So I again say, let Percival beour champion."

  Notwithstanding that Paul had rarely been seen in a school fight, it waswell known amongst his companions that he was a fine athlete andperfectly able to take care of himself, so with ready shouts they hailedthe suggestion.

  "Percival, Percival, Percival!" resounded on all sides.