The Hero of Garside School

by J. Harwood Panting

  CHAPTER XII

  THE FORUM

  "Meeting of the Fifth in the Forum."

  The whisper had travelled from form to form, and, as invariablyhappened, conjecture was busy as to what the meeting of the Fifth couldbe for.

  "It's a breach-of-promise case they've got on!" said Freddy Plungerconfidentially to half a dozen members of the Third who had beendiscussing the event.

  "Breach of promise?" repeated Baldry. "None of your gammon, Freddy!"

  "Fact! Haven't you heard? One of the freshers has been making desperatelove to the matron--giving her his portrait, with his love, and thatsort of thing. You wouldn't wonder at it from an old stager like you,Baldry, or Sedgeley; but from a fresher--well, it's awful, isn't it?What's the school coming to--that's what I should like to know?"

  Harry Moncrief blushed to the roots of his hair as the boys standinground Plunger turned to him and tittered.

  "What are the damages?"

  "A broken topper, a pair of plaids, a white waistcoat, and spats overpatents."

  More titters, and more glances in the direction of Harry. He knew wellenough that this reference on Plunger's part was meant for him to thecostume with which he had adorned himself on his coming to Garside.

  "Plunger's been crowing it over me ever since I came here. I shall haveto take it out of him," he thought.

  The outburst of laughter that followed did not mend matters. So hehastened away, in no pleasant mood, without any regard to whither hewas going. He came to a stop when he reached the cricketing-shed, in theplaying-fields adjoining the school. It was this shed which was known as"The Forum." Here it was that the meeting of the Fifth was to be held.

  Harry stopped and regarded it with some interest.

  "Stan will be at the meeting, I suppose, and Paul Percival. Wouldn't Ilike to know what it's all about!"

  He had an uncomfortable feeling that things weren't going quite smoothlywith his cousin and Paul Percival. Bit by bit the glamour with which hehad viewed the school was wearing off. He no longer regarded it throughrose-coloured glasses. Plunger had lorded it over him and made fun ofhim; his cousin and Paul, whom he had expected to find on the samefooting as himself, might have been in a different world, so great wasthe difference between the upper and lower forms.

  The dormitory, to which he had looked forward with still greaterpleasure, had proved a delusion and a snare. Often, in the bitterness ofhis experience in the dormitory, had he wished himself back in his warmand comfortable bed at home. He did not see--did not understand that thetrials upon which he was entering were just those which were mouldinghim for the future. They were to test and try him, as they had testedand tried many others before him.

  Some of you who read this may be going through the same experience asHarry Moncrief. Remember, rough as the experience may be, it goes tomake the man in you, and it depends upon you whether you come from thesetrials dross or pure gold.

  By the side of the shed where Harry was standing there was a window,thick with dust. Harry tried to look through the window, but, failing inthis, his forefinger went idly to work on the dust. Bit by bit he tracedout a face and head, almost without knowing it, for he had been thinkingof the meeting that was to take place in the shed rather than of hissketch.

  "My, it isn't at all bad!" he cried, standing back a pace and admiringhis handiwork when he had finished it. "If I'd really tried, I couldn'thave done it so well. Perhaps the nose doesn't stick up enough, but it'sgot the right cut about it."

  Harry was about to rub out the sketch, when he paused, as thoughreluctant to rub out such a masterpiece.

  "'Pon my word, it's rather good! I wonder if anybody would know who it'smeant for? I don't suppose anybody will. I've a jolly good mind to leaveit!"

  He pronounced the last words with emphasis, turned on his heels, andwalked away.

  Now it so happened that after Plunger and his companions had enjoyedtheir laugh at the expense of Harry, their attention went back again tothe one absorbing topic of conversation--the meeting of the Fifth.

  "Shouldn't I like to be there!" said Plunger, his curiosity growing asthe time for the meeting advanced. "I would like to know what's in thewind! Is it about the Black Book, I wonder?"

  "What's that to do with the Fifth any more than the rest of us?"remarked Sedgeley.

  "Oh, the Fifth always put a lot of side on, and like to cock it overus!" retorted Plunger.

  "You'll be just the same, Freddy, when you're sent up--if ever you aresent up," remarked Baldry. "Sour grapes!"

  "Shut up, Baldhead!" retorted Plunger hotly. "I never want to getamongst the Fifth bounders. It's that keeps me back. I could have got upin the Fourth at last exam., only I said to myself: 'No; it takes me oneform nearer the Fifth bounders.'" He paused for a moment, then added:"All the same, I would like to know what they're going to gas about inthe Forum. P'r'aps it's about us--p'r'aps they mean sitting on us a lotmore than they do now."

  "P'r'aps!" repeated Sedgeley and Baldry reflectively.

  "I--I've a good mind to try. Why should the Fifth have it all tothemselves? If--if I could only steal a march on them!"

  "If you only could, Freddy!" remarked Sedgeley encouragingly.

  For the next few minutes there was some whispering together, and the endof it was that Plunger and his companions strolled in the same directionas that Harry Moncrief had strolled in a quarter of an hour or sobefore.

  On arriving at the shed, they reconnoitred around it, uncertain as towhether or not anybody was within.

  Sedgeley happened by chance to look through--or tried to lookthrough--the window on which Harry had left a specimen of his handiwork.

  His attention was at once arrested. He regarded the face seriously for amoment; then he broke into a shout of laughter.

  "What are you playing the silly goat for?" demanded Plunger wrathfullyfrom somewhere in the rear of the shed.

  "Come here, Baldry, Bember, Viner!" exclaimed Sedgeley, vainlyendeavouring to stifle his laughter.

  The three came hurrying up, followed by Plunger, in a violent state ofagitation.

  "You'll spoil all, you braying ass, you laughing hyena, you giddy----"

  Then he paused, as Baldry, Bember, and Viner, after a glance at thepane, burst into laughter also. "What is it, you laughinglunatics--what----"

  Plunger said no more. His jaw dropped, as, following their gaze, hegazed in turn on the window-pane.

  "Jolly good likeness, isn't it, Baldry?" Sedgeley at length managed toremark.

  "My!" cried Baldry, with his hand on his side, as though he'd got astitch in it. "Hold me up!"

  "I--I don't see what there's to laugh at," Plunger at length remarked,with a face as red as a turkey-cock's.

  "What, don't you see it, Freddy?"

  "See what?"

  "The likeness--oh, my side! Don't you know that nose--that hair. Ishould know 'em anywhere."

  Now, Plunger had a very characteristic nose--it was a combative nose,and a decided pug. So was the nose on the window-pane. Plunger's hair,too, was peculiar to Plunger. It was wiry, stubborn hair, with a tuft infront which resembled the comb of a turkey-cock. The same peculiaritywas seen in the head on the window. And Plunger's eyebrows had a way ofmounting to his head, as though they were anxious to get on terms offriendship with the tuft above. The same eccentricity was noticeable inthe eyebrows on the window-pane.

  "No. I don't know 'em--not a bit. Who do you say they're meant for?"came in jerks from Plunger.

  "Who--who? Oh, dear, oh, dear! Why, they're meant for you, Freddy! It'sawfully funny, isn't it? I didn't know that your face was so comical!"

  Plunger shrugged his shoulders, and affected indifference. He wasn't abit like that caricature. It was only Sedgeley pretended to see thelikeness, and made the other fellows see it with his eyes. At the sametime he put out his hand to rub out the sketch. Sedgeley stopped him.

  "If it isn't meant for you, Freddy, we may as well see who it is meantfor."

  "Just as you
like," answered Plunger, in his most indifferent tone.

  Having assured themselves that there was no one inside, three of theconspirators--Sedgeley, Baldry, and Plunger--entered the shed. A quarterof an hour elapsed, then the door opened; but, instead of the threefigures that entered, only two came out--Sedgeley and Baldry. All wassilent within. Plunger had disappeared as completely as though he haddropped through the earth.

  "All serene?" queried Bember, as the two made their appearance.

  "All serene!" came the answer.

  * * * * *

  At seven o'clock the Fifth Form began to put in an appearance at theshed. Arbery and Leveson were two of the first. They lit a candle, andstuck it in a tin candle-stick. Then they rolled out one of the boxesthat were piled up at the back, placed it lengthwise, so as to form arostrum, and covered it with a baize cloth. On the top of this theyplaced a wooden mallet, used for knocking in the stumps in thecricketing season.

  "Sounds all right," said Leveson, giving the mallet a flourish over hishead, and bringing it down sharply on top of the box. "Order--order forthe chair!"

  Down it came a second time.

  "Friends, Romans, and Countrymen----"

  "Drop the cackle, Levy," shouted Arbery, "and give me a hand."

  He was pulling out some of the boxes, and Leveson lent him a hand toarrange them as seats. It so happened that in one of the mostdilapidated of these boxes, which had rested for weeks in the darkestcorner of the shed, Frederick Plunger, Esq. was reposing. It had beenselected as the most suitable hiding-place by the conspirators. It waslarge and commodious, and there were so many cracks and crannies in theworm-eaten, dilapidated lid that there was ample breathing space within.

  In this safe hiding-place Plunger had flattered himself that he would beable to know all that passed at the meeting of the Fifth. He had notcalculated on the box being shifted from its dusty, cob-webbed corner.But more by chance than design Arbery laid profane hands on it, anddragging it out with the rest, turned it over and over, something afterthe style of a porter with the luggage at a railway terminus in the busyseason.

  Bumpety--bumpety! It seemed to Plunger, so far as he had any sensationat all, that he was performing the part of a human catherine-wheel.

  "My!" he gasped. "What are the asses doing with the box? I shall be mostfrightfully sick if they don't stop it."

  Bumpety--bumpety--bumpety!

  "Oh, oh! What an idiot I was to get inside this coffin; it'll be thedeath of me!"

  Arbery and Leveson gave another jerk to the box even as Plunger wasgroaning within.

  "It--it--it's worse than being on the Great Wheel, or on a pleasure boatwhen there's a sea on. Oh, my--oh dear! When are the silly fellows goingto stop it?" he moaned.

  At last they did stop it, almost beneath the identical window on whichMoncrief minor had traced Plunger's noble features.

  "That's about the ticket, isn't it, Arbery? My, it's hot work! Didn'tthink that old box was so heavy. You'd fancy it was stuffed with leadinstead of broken bats and rubbish of that sort. Phew!"

  Leveson wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.

  "Yes; that's the thing. It'll give an extra seat or two, if they'rewanted."

  "My word! They're going to sit on me," groaned Plunger. His groans werecut short by a loud outburst of laughter from Arbery.

  "What's the lunatic laughing at now?" thought Plunger.

  "Hold me up, Levy!" Arbery in rising from the box had caught sight ofthe caricature of Plunger on the window, and burst into a fit oflaughter. "Do you see it--do you see who it's meant for?"

  Leveson, for answer, likewise broke into a peal of laughter.

  "The other lunatic's going it now," Plunger muttered to himself. "Seemsto me I've hopped into an asylum instead of a box. There's a screw loosein one of 'em. My! Aren't they going it. Wish I could get a peep out ofthis beastly timber yard. I'd like to see what they're grinning at. Harkat 'em. They're off again."

  At last Leveson stopped.

  "See it," he cried. "Who could help it? Jolly good, isn't it? Like theyoung bounder to a T--the same nose, the same coarse wiry thatch, thesame eyebrows running away from the forehead into the middle of nextweek."

  The perspiration began to ooze from Plunger. He had an uneasy feeling asto whom they were referring.

  "Young bounder!" he repeated. "Coarse, wiry thatch, eyebrows runningaway from the forehead. Leveson thinks that awfully smart, I s'pose?Still it--it--must be a bit like."

  Plunger had the additional pleasure of hearing more laughter at hisexpense as other scholars of the Fifth entered, and added theircriticisms to Leveson's. Plunger's ears tingled as they had nevertingled before, for never before had he heard himself so freelycriticised. In addition to the not very flattering remarks "the boundersof the Fifth" had to pass on his features, Plunger had to listen toterse descriptions of himself as "that ass, Plunger," "a mixed pickle,""a queer egg," "conceited young biped," and so on.

  Plunger made remarks of his own as these pleasant criticisms reached hisears. They were scarcely less vigorous than those descriptive ofhimself, and were fairly divided between "those bounders of the Fifth"and "the fellow who had scratched things" on the window. Butunfortunately Plunger's eloquence was wasted, as neither the "boundersof the Fifth" nor "the fellow who scratched things on the window" hadthe advantage of hearing it. His attention was soon turned from himself,however, to the proceedings that were taking place in the shed.

  There were about twenty in the Fifth. Nineteen put in an appearance.Hasluck, as head of the Form, took up his place at the rostrum, whilemost of the others sat on the boxes which had been arranged for theirconvenience by Arbery and Leveson, who were known as M.C.'s--masters ofceremonies--of the Form.

  "All here?" asked Hasluck, after bringing down his mallet on the boxbefore him.

  "All--except Moncrief," answered Leveson.

  The absence of Moncrief had been noticed with some surprise by the Form,by none more than Newall.

  "Is he coming, does any one know? If so, we'll wait a little longer."

  "No; he isn't coming," answered Paul. "He wanted to; but I persuaded himto stop away."

  "You persuaded him to stop away," cried Newall. "Why, it's because ofhim we've come here."

  "Excuse me," answered Paul politely. "It's because of me. At any rate,it's for the Form to decide."

  "Percival called the Form together. It's for Percival to explain," saidHasluck.

  "I'll explain as well as I can," said Paul, taking a step forward, andglancing round at the faces bent eagerly forward to hear him. "There wasa slight shindy, as you all know, on the first day of term, betweenNewall and Stanley Moncrief."

  "Shindy!" interrupted Newall with a scornful sniff. "Is that all youcall it?"

  "Call it by what name you please; I don't mind," proceeded Paul calmly."Newall baited Moncrief's cousin unmercifully, and Moncrief did what anyother fellow in the Form worth his salt would have done--interfered. Itried to get between him and Newall to stop the quarrel. You know whathappened--Newall was struck."

  "Yes, Newall was struck," repeated Newall grimly.

  "Yes; but after all Moncrief had a good deal the worst of it. He passedthe night in Dormitory X--ten times worse punishment than anythingNewall got; so he more than wiped out the blow he gave in anger toNewall."

  "Oh, stop this humbug," interrupted Newall angrily. "You can see whatPercival's up to. He's trying to white-wash Moncrief, who's too big afunk to come here to defend himself."

  There were murmurs of assent from some of those present, who resentedMoncrief's absence, and who were not favourably inclined to a tameending of the quarrel. The more thoughtful section remained silent.

  "It would have been better, I think, for Moncrief to have been here,"said Hasluck. And this view was received with applause.

  "If there's any blame for that," said Paul quickly, "blame me. As I'vesaid, I persuaded him to stay away. With Moncrief here and Newall here,it would have
been like two barrels of gunpowder. Just a spark,and--phwitt! bang--where should we all have been? There'd have beennothing left of us."

  This time Paul carried his audience with him. They were well aware thatMoncrief was hasty in temper, and that Newall was no less fiery. So theysmiled at Paul's description of what might probably have happened if thetwo had been present.

  "Besides, as I've already pointed out to Newall," continued Paul, "ifthere's a quarrel at all, it lies between me and him."

  "Stuff--gammon--more humbug!" interrupted Newall angrily.

  "That's what you think," said Paul, confronting him steadily for amoment. "After all, you only count as one. That's why I've called theForm, who count a good deal more, so that they could give their opinion.Whatever their opinion is, I'll stand to it."

  "You will!" cried Newall. "That's all I want. I know well enough theywon't let Moncrief wriggle out of it."

  "How do you make out that the quarrel has shifted from Moncrief to you,Percival?" demanded Hasluck. "I can't quite see it."

  More murmurs of assent.

  "I think you will when I've finished," said Paul confidently. "Newalldoesn't see it, naturally, but I think you will. This is how thingsstand. Newall made me believe that he was sorry for the quarrel that hadtaken place between him and Moncrief. On that I tried to do the rightthing. I got Moncrief to go up to him and offer him his hand. I wasnever more disgusted in my life. Newall pretended not to see it, andsaid insulting things, which I need not repeat. What I say is, that whenhe refused to take Moncrief's hand, he insulted me more than he insultedMoncrief; for it was I who brought Moncrief to him, and it was throughme Moncrief offered him his hand. That is the first point I wish theForm to decide."

  Paul spoke so earnestly that he carried the Form with him. It appealedto their sense of chivalry. Percival had tried to make peace betweenNewall and Moncrief. Failing that, he had turned the quarrel from hisfriend's shoulders to his own.

  First one, then the other, supported Paul, and though there was a smallminority against him, there was no question as to the majority.

  "We think Percival right," said Hasluck--an announcement which wasreceived with cheers.

  "That only means that the quarrel is between me and Percival," saidNewall grimly. "I've no objection. I'm not going to kick against thedecision of the Form." Then, turning to Paul: "You've got to pay me backthe blow I had from Moncrief. P'raps the Form 'll decide when it's tobe."

  "You mean fighting?"

  "What else should I mean?"

  "I don't. We don't want to waste our energies that way when there's amuch better way and better work to do."

  "Trying to crawl out of it again," came in a sneering aside fromParfitt. "Was there ever such a wriggler?"

  "Let's hear the better way," said Hasluck; and there were many others inthe Form, in spite of the sneering remark of Parfitt, who were equallyanxious to hear what "the better way" could be.

  "There's a shadow resting upon the school--resting upon every one ofus," said Paul solemnly.

  "What shadow are you talking about?" asked Hasluck.

  "The leaves from the Black Book--the stolen papers from Mr. Weevil'sdesk," said Paul. "Until the thief is found out, suspicion rests uponevery boy in the Form--upon every boy in the school. What I suggest is,that we leave off fighting till we've found out who the thief is. Idon't want to preach, but I think that will be a great deal more to ourhonour and the honour of our school."

  Paul paused. "If Parfitt has anything to accuse me of, now will be histime," he thought.

  He had not to wait long. Parfitt did speak, but scarcely in the way hehad anticipated.

  "Honour of the school!" he cried. "Anybody would think that Percival'sthe only one who cares for it. Let him take care of his own honourfirst, and the honour of the school will take care of itself."

  Parfitt's pointed remark was loudly applauded. Paul saw that he waslikely to be defeated unless he could make a stronger appeal to thesympathies of the Form.

  "I don't know that my honour's questioned," he answered promptly. "Whoquestions it?"

  "I do," retorted Parfitt.

  "And I," added Newall.

  Before Paul could answer, there was a knock on the door of the shed. Itso startled Devey--a heavy, thick-set boy--that he over-balanced himself,and came with a crash on the box in which Plunger was hidden. Plungerhad been so interested in the proceedings of the Fifth that he hadlifted the lid in the slightest possible degree so that he might thebetter hear what was going on. When Devey came crashing on the box,Plunger thought for the moment that his head had gone from hisshoulders. And then as Devey, not quite recovered from his fall,continued to sit upon the lid, he thought he would be suffocated.

  Meanwhile Leveson went to the door, and demanded: "Who's there?"

  "A Beetle," came the answer.

  "A Beetle! What does he want?"

  "He's got a challenge for the Fifth."

  "A challenge for the Fifth! Oh, very kind of him!" Then, turning toHasluck, "Shall I let him in?"

  "Rather. Let's hear what the sport is."

  Thereupon Leveson opened the door. Three boys were standing without--twoof them belonging to the school, and the third, who stood between them,one of the much-despised Beetles--in other words, a pupil of the rivalschool at St. Bede's.