The Pothunters

by P. G. Wodehouse

  [14]

  THE LONG RUN

  Vaughan came up soon afterwards, and Dallas told him the great news.They were neither of them naturally vindictive, but the Mutual Friendhad been a heavy burden to them during his stay in the House, and theydid not attempt to conceal from themselves their unfeigned pleasure atthe news of his impending departure.

  'I'll never say another word against Mr Plunkett, senior, in my life,'said Vaughan. 'He's a philanthropist. I wonder what the Mutual's goingto do? Gentleman of leisure, possibly. Unless he's going to the'Varsity.'

  'Same thing, rather. I don't know a bit what he's going to do, and Ican't say I care much. He's going, that's the main point.'

  'I say,' said Vaughan. 'I believe the Old Man was holding a sort ofreception tonight. I know he had Thomson over to his House. Do youthink there's a row on?'

  'Oh, I don't know. Probably only wanted to see if he was all rightafter the mile. By Jove, it was a bit of a race, wasn't it?' And theconversation drifted off into matters athletic.

  There were two persons that night who slept badly. Jim lay awake untilthe College clock had struck three, going over in his mind the variouspoints of his difficulties, on the chance of finding a solution ofthem. He fell asleep at a quarter past, without having made anyprogress. The Head, also, passed a bad night. He was annoyed for manyreasons, principally, perhaps, because he had allowed Sir Alfred Vennerto score so signal a victory over him. Besides that, he was not easy inhis mind about Jim. He could not come to a decision. The evidence wasall against him, but evidence is noted for its untrustworthiness. TheHead would have preferred to judge the matter from his knowledge ofJim's character. But after the Plunkett episode he mistrusted hispowers in that direction. He thought the matter over for a time, andthen, finding himself unable to sleep, got up and wrote an article fora leading review on the subject of the Doxology. The article wassubsequently rejected--which proves that Providence is not altogetherincapable of a kindly action--but it served its purpose by sending itsauthor to sleep.

  Barrett, too, though he did not allow it to interfere with hisslumbers, was considerably puzzled as to what he ought to do about thecups which he had stumbled upon in the wood. He scarcely felt equal togoing to the Dingle again to fetch them, and yet every minute hedelayed made the chances of their remaining there more remote. Herather hoped that Reade would think of some way out of it. He had agreat respect for Reade's intellect, though he did not always show it.The next day was the day of the Inter-House cross-country race. It wasalways fixed for the afternoon after Sports Day, a most inconvenienttime for it, as everybody who had exerted or over-exerted himself theafternoon before was unable to do himself justice. Today, contrary togeneral expectation, both Drake and Thomson had turned out. The knowingones, however, were prepared to bet anything you liked (except cash),that both would drop out before the first mile was over. Merevale'spinned their hopes on Welch. At that time Welch had not done muchlong-distance running. He confined himself to the hundred yards and thequarter. But he had it in him to do great things, as he proved in thefollowing year, when he won the half, and would have beaten the greatMitchell-Jones record for the mile, but for an accident, or rather anevent, which prevented his running. The tale of which is toldelsewhere.

  The course for the race was a difficult one. There were hedges andbrooks to be negotiated, and, worst of all, ploughed fields. The firstploughed field usually thinned the ranks of the competitorsconsiderably. The distance was about ten miles.

  The race started at three o'clock. Jim and Welch, Merevale's firststring, set the pace from the beginning, and gradually drew away fromthe rest. Drake came third, and following him the rest of the Houses ina crowd.

  Welch ran easily and springily; Jim with more effort. He felt from thestart that he could not last. He resolved to do his best for the honourof the House, but just as the second mile was beginning, the first ofthe ploughed fields appeared in view, stretching, so it appeared toJim, right up to the horizon. He groaned.

  'Go on, Welch,' he gasped. 'I'm done.'

  Welch stopped short in his stride, and eyed him critically.

  'Yes,' he said, 'better get back to the House. You overdid ityesterday. Lie down somewhere. G'bye.' And he got into his strideagain. Jim watched his figure diminish, until at last it was ashapeless dot of white against the brown surface. Then he lay down onhis back and panted.

  It was in this attitude that Drake found him. For a moment an almostirresistible wish seized him to act in the same way. There was anunstudied comfort about Jim's pose which appealed to him strongly. Hiswind still held out, but his legs were beginning to feel as if they didnot belong to him at all. He pulled up for an instant.

  'Hullo,' he said, 'done up?'

  For reply Jim merely grunted.

  'Slacker,' said Drake. 'Where's Welch?'

  'Miles ahead.'

  'Oh Lord!' groaned Drake and, pulling himself together,set out painfully once more across the heavy surface of the field.

  Jim lay where he was a little longer. The recollection of the otherrunners, who might be expected to arrive shortly, stirred him toaction. He did not wish to interview everyone on the subject of hisdropping out. He struck off at right angles towards the hedge on theleft. As he did so, the first of the crowd entered the field. Simpson_major_, wearing the colours of Perkins's House on his manlybosom, was leading. Behind him came a group of four, two School House,Dallas of Ward's, and a representative of Prater's. A minute later theywere followed by a larger group, consisting this time of twenty or morerunners--all that was left of the fifty who had started. The rest haddropped out at the sight of the ploughed field.

  Jim watched the procession vanish over the brow of the hill, and, as itpassed out of sight, began to walk slowly back to the School again.

  He reached it at last, only to find it almost entirely deserted. InMerevale's House there was nobody. He had hoped that Charteris and Tonymight have been somewhere about. When he had changed into his ordinaryclothes, he made a tour of the School grounds. The only sign of life,as far as he could see, was Biffen, who was superintending the cuttingof the grass on the cricket-field. During the winter Biffen alwaysdisappeared, nobody knew where, returning at the beginning of SportsWeek to begin preparations for the following cricket season. It hadbeen stated that during the winter he shut himself up and lived onhimself after the fashion of a bear. Others believed that he went andworked in some Welsh mine until he was needed again at the School.Biffen himself was not communicative on the subject, a fact which led athird party to put forward the awful theory that he was a professionalassociation player and feared to mention his crime in a school whichworshipped Rugby.

  'Why, Mr Thomson,' he said, as Jim came up, 'I thought you was running.Whoa!' The last remark was addressed to a bored-looking horse attachedto the mowing-machine. From the expression on its face, the animalevidently voted the whole process pure foolishness. He pulled upwithout hesitation, and Biffen turned to Jim again.

  'Surely they ain't come back yet?' he said.

  'I have,' said Jim. 'I did myself up rather in the mile yesterday, andcouldn't keep up the pace. I dropped out at that awfully long ploughedfield by Parker's Spinney.'

  Biffen nodded.

  'And 'oo was winning, sir?'

  'Well, Welch was leading, the last I saw of it. Shouldn't wonder if hewon either. He was going all right. I say, the place seems absolutelydeserted. Isn't anybody about?'

  'Just what Mr MacArthur was saying to me just this minute, sir. 'Ewent into the Pavilion.'

  'Good. I'll go and hunt for him.'

  Biffen 'clicked' the _blase_ horse into movement again. Jim wentto the Pavilion and met the Babe coming down the steps.

  'Hullo, Babe! I was looking for you.'

  'Hullo! Why aren't you running?'

  'Dropped out. Come and have tea in my study.'

  'No, I'll tell you what. You come back with me. I've got rather adecent dog I want to show you. Only got him yesterday.'

 
Jim revelled in dogs, so he agreed instantly. The Babe lived with hisparents in a big house about a mile from the College, and in so doingwas the object of much envy amongst those who had to put up with lifeat the Houses. Jim had been to his home once or twice before, and hadalways had a very good time indeed there. The two strolled off. Inanother hour the place began to show signs of life again. The Schoolbegan to return by ones and twos, most of them taking up a positionnear the big gates. This was where the race was to finish. There was astraight piece of road about two hundred yards in length before thehigh road was reached. It was a sight worth seeing when the runners,paced by their respective Houses on each side of the road, swept roundthe corner, and did their best to sprint with all that was left in themafter ten miles of difficult country. Suddenly a distant shouting beganto be heard. The leaders had been sighted. The noise increased, growingnearer and nearer, until at last it swelled into a roar, and a blackmass of runners turned the corner. In the midst of the black was onewhite figure--Welch, as calm and unruffled as if he had been returningfrom a short trot to improve his wind. Merevale's surged round him in acheering mob. Welch simply disregarded them. He knew where he wished tobegin his sprint, and he would begin it at that spot and no other. Thespot he had chosen was well within a hundred yards from the gates. Whenhe reached it, he let himself go, and from the uproar, the crowdappeared to be satisfied. A long pause, and still none of the otherrunners appeared. Five minutes went by before they began to appear.First Jones, of the School House, and Simpson, who raced every yard ofthe way, and finished in the order named, and then three of Philpott'sHouse in a body. The rest dropped in at intervals for the next quarterof an hour.

  The Headmaster always made a point of watching the finish of thecross-country run. Indeed, he was generally one of the last to leave.With the majority of the spectators it was enough to see the first fivesafely in.

  The last man and lock-up arrived almost simultaneously, and the Headwent off to a well-earned dinner.

  He had just finished this meal, and was congratulating himself on notbeing obliged to spend the evening in a series of painful interviews,as had happened the night before, when Parker, the butler, entered theroom.

  'Well, Parker, what is it?' asked he.

  'Mr Roberts, sir, wishes to see you.'

  For a moment the Head was at a loss. He could not recall any friend oracquaintance of that name. Then he remembered that Roberts was the nameof the detective who had come down from London to look into the matterof the prizes.

  'Very well,' he said, resignedly, 'show him into the study.'

  Parker bowed, and retired. The Head, after an interval, followed him,and made his way to the study.