The Gold-Stealers A Story Of Waddy by Edward Dyson (iphone ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Undoing; For Presently Dick Detected Jacker In an Attempt To Deceive,  And

Signalled 'Down!' With An Emphatic Gesture. 'Gerrout!' Was The Word

Framed By The Lips Of The Indignant Jacker. Haddon Gesticulated An Angry

Protest,  And Mcknight'S Gestures And Grimaces Were Intended To Convey A

Wish That He Might Be Visited With Unspeakable Pains And Penalties If He

Were Not An Entirely Virtuous And Grievously Misjudged Small Boy.

'It'S A Lie,' Hissed Dick; 'It Was Down!

'You'Re Another--It Wasn'T!

''Twas,  I Tell You!'

'Twasn'T!

'Gimme My Knife; I Don'T Play With Sharps An' Sneaks.'

'Won'T!'

Gimme It!

All Caution Had Been Forgotten By This Time,  Voices Were Shrill,  And Eyes

Spoke Of Battle. Dick Made At Jacker With A Threatening Fist,  And Jacker,

With An Adroitness For Which He Was Famous,  Met Him With A Clip On The

Shin From A Copper-Toed Boot. Then The Lads Grappled And Commenced A

Vigorous And Enthusiastic Battle In The Dirt And Amongst The Cobweb

Curtains.

In The Schoolroom Above Joel Ham,  Startled From A Dreamy Drowsiness,

Heard With Wonder Fierce Voices Under His Feet,  The Sounds Of Blows And

Of Bumping Heads,  And Saw His Scholars All Distracted. The Master Divined

The Truth In a Very Few Minutes.

'Cann,  Peterson,  Moonlight,' He Called,  'Follow Me.'

He Selected A Favourite Cane From The Rack,  And Strutted Out With The

Curious Boys At His Heels.

'Now Then,  Peterson,' He Said,  And He Paused With Artful Preoccupation To

Double His Cane Over And Under,  And Critically Examine The End Thereof,

'You Are A Very Observant Youth,  Peterson; You Will Tell Me How Those

Boys Got Under The School.'

'Dunno,' Said Peterson,  Assuming The Expression Of An Aged Cow.

The Master Seized Him By The Collar.

'Peterson,  You Have The Faculty Of Divination. I Give You Till I Have

Counted Ten To Exert It. I Am Counting,  Peterson.'

Very Often The Schoolmaster'S Language Was Greek To The Scholars,  But His

Meaning Was Never In doubt For A Moment.

'Eight,  Peterson,  Nine.'

Peterson Slouched Along A Few Yards,  And Kicked Stupidly And Resentfully

At A Loose Board.

'Might 'A' Got In There,' He Growled. 'Why Couldn'T You 'A' Asked

Moonlight?--He Don' Mind Bein' A Sneak.'

But Mr. Ham Was Down On His Knees Removing The Loose Board,  And For Two

Or Three Minutes After Crouched At The Opening Like A Famished Yellow Cat

At A Rat-Hole,  Awaiting His Opportunity. Meanwhile The Fight Under The

School Was Being Prosecuted With Unabated Fury. Dick And Jacker Gripped

Like Twin Bull-Terriers,  Rolling And Tumbling About In The Confined

Space,  Careless Of Everything But The Important Business In Hand.

Suddenly Mr. Ham Made His Spring,  And A Smart Haul Brought A Leg To

Light. Another Tug,  And A Second Leg Shot Forth.

'Pull,  Boys!' He Cried.

Moonlight Seized The Other Limb,  And A Good Tug Brought The Two Boys Out

Into The Open,  Still Fighting Enthusiastically And Apparently Oblivious

Of Their Surroundings. Two Soldier Ants Never Fought With Greater

Determination Or With Such A Whole-Souled Devotion To The Cause. Over And

Over They Tumbled In The Dust,  Clutching Hair,  Hammering Ribs,  And

Grunting And Grasping,  Blind,  Deaf,  And Callous As Logs; And Joel Ham

Stood Above Them With The Familiar Cynical Twist On His Blotched Visage,

Twisting His Cane And Making Audible Comments,  But Offering No Further

Interference.

'After You,  My Boys--After You. There Is No Hurry,  Haddon,  I Can Wait As

You Are So Busy. Mcknight,  Your Future Is Assured. The Prize Ring Is Your

Sphere: There Wealth And Glory Await You. Peterson,  You See Here How

Degraded That Boy Be Comes Who Forgets Those Higher Principles Which It

Is My Earnest Effort To Instil Into The Hearts And Minds Of The Boys Of

This Depraved Township. Cann,  My Boy,  Behold How Brutalising Is

Ungoverned Instinct.'

But,  Wearying Of The Contest,  The Master Made A Sudden Descent Upon

Jacker,  And Tore Him From His Enemy'S Grasp. The Effort Brought Dick To

His Feet,  Panting And Still Eager For The Fray. He Could Not See An Inch

Beyond His Nose,  And For A Few Moments Moved About Fiercely,  Feeling For

His Foe.

'D'You Gimme Best?' He Spluttered. 'If You Don'T,  Come On--I Ain'T Done

Up!' Then He Flung The Curtain Of Cobweb From His Eyes,  And The Situation

Flashed Upon Him In all Its Grim Significance. For A Swift Moment He

Thought Of Flight,  But The Master'S Grip Was On His Collar.

'Blowed If It Ain'T Jo,' He Murmured In His Consternation,  And Yielded

Meekly,  Like One For Whom Fate Had Proved Too Strong.

The Schoolmaster'S White-Lashed Eyelids Blinked Rapidly For A Second Or

So,  And He Screwed His Face Into A Hard Wrinkled Grin Of Gratification.

'Yes,  Ginger,  My Lad,' He Said Genially,  'Jo,  At Your Service--Very Much

At Your Service; And Yours,  Mcknight. We Will Go Inside Now,  Boys. The

Sun Is Painfully Hot,  And You Are Fatigued.'

He Marched His Captives Before Him Into The School Room And Ranged Them

Against The Wall,  Under The Wide-Open Wondering Eyes Of The Scholars,  By

Whom Even The Most Trifling Incident Of Rebellion Was Always Welcomed

With Glee As A Break In The Dull Monotony Of Joel Ham'S Peculiar System.

But This Was No Trifling Incident,  It Was A Tremendous Outrage And A

Delightful Mystery; For The Boys As They Stood There Presented To The

Amazed Classes A Strange And Amazing Spectacle,  And Were Clothed In an

Original And,  So Far As The Children Were Concerned,  An Inexplicable

Disguise. Fighting And Tumbling About Under The School House,  Haddon And

Mcknight Had Gathered Much Mud,  But More Cobwebs. In Fact,  They Had Wiped

Up So Many Webs That They Were Covered From Head To Foot In The Clammy

Dusty Masses. Their Hats Were Lost Early In The Encounter,  And Their Hair

Was Full Of Cobwebs; Sticky Curtains Of Cobweb Hung About Their Faces,

And Swathed Them From Top To Toe In What Looked Like A Dirty Grey Fur.

Each Boy Had Cleared His Eyes Of The Thick Veil,  But So Inhuman And

Unheard Of Was Their Appearance That There Was Presently A Suspicion

Amongst The Scholars That The Master Had Captured Two Previously Unknown

Specimens Of The Animal Kingdom,  And Consequently Further Astonishing

Developments Might Be Looked For.

Mr. Ham,  With Wise Forethought,  Carefully Locked The Door And Pocketed

The Key After Disposing Of The Lads; And This Was Well,  For Dick Haddon,

Fully Appreciating The Possibilities Of The Situation,  Was Already

Plotting--Plotting With Every Faculty Of An Active And Inventive Mind.

The Master Faced His Prisoners,  And Stood Musing Over Them Like A Pensive

But Kindly Cormorant. Mr. Joel Ham,  B.A.,  Was A Small Thin Man With A

Deceitful Appearance Of Weakness. There Was A Peculiar Indecision About

All His Joints That Made The Certainty Of His Spring And The Vigour Of

His Grip Matters Of Wonder To All Those New Boys Who Ventured To Presume

Upon His Seeming Infirmities. He Had A Scraggy Red Neck,  A Long Beak-Like

Nose,  And Queer Slate-Coloured Eyes With Pale Lashes; His Hair Was Thin

And Very Fine In colour And Texture,  Strangely Like That Of A Yellow Cat;

And Face,  Neck,  And Nose Were Mottled With Patches Of Small Purple Veins.

To-Day He Was Dressed In a Long Seedy Black Coat,  A Short Seedy Black

Vest,  And A Pair Of Now Moleskins,  Glaringly White,  And Much Too Long And

Too Large.

'Haddon,' Said The Master In a Reflective Tone,  'You Are Not Looking As

Neat As Usual. You Need Dusting. I Will Perform That Kind Office

Presently,  And,  Believe Me,  I Will Do It Well. Jacker,  I Intend To Leave

You Standing Here For A Few Moments To Cool. You May Have Noticed,  Boys,

That The Youthful Form When Over-Heated Or Possessed With Unusual

Excitement Has Not That Poignant Susceptibility Which Might Be Thought

Necessary To The Adequate Appreciation Of A Judicious Lambasting. Has

That Ever Occurred To You,  Mcknight?'

Jacker Shifted His Feet Uneasily,  Rolled His Body,  And,  Knowing That

Nothing Could Aggravate His Offence,  Answered Sullenly:

'Oh,  Dry Up!'

Mr. Ham Grinned At The Boy In Silence For A Few Moments,  And Then

Returned To His High Stool And Desk. Mr. Ham Never Made The Slightest

Effort To Maintain Before His Scholars That Dignity Which Is Supposed To

Be Essential To The Success Of A Pedagogue. In addressing The Boys He

Used Their Correct Names,  Or The Nicknames Liberally Bestowed Upon Them

By Their Mates,  Indiscriminately,  And Showed No Resentment Whatever When

He Heard Himself Alluded To As Jo,  Or Hamlet,  Or The Beetle,  His Most

Frequent Appellations In The Playground. He Kept A Black Bottle In His

Desk,  At The Neck Of Which He Habitually Refreshed Himself Before The

Whole School; And He Addressed The Children With An Elaborate And Caustic

Levity In a Thin Shaky Voice Quite Twenty Years Too Old For Him. His

Humour Was Thrown Away Upon The Rising Generation Of Waddy,  And Might

Have Been Supposed To Be The Cat-Like Pawing Of A Vicious Mind; But Joel

Ham Was Not Cruel,