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

Cane With Exceeding Smartness,  He Frequently Overlooked Misdemeanours

That Might Have Justified An Attack,  And Was Never Betrayed Into

Administering Unmerited Cuts Even When His Black Bottle Was Empty And His

Thirst Most Virulent.

In Spite Of His Eccentricities And His Weaknesses,  And The Fact That He

Was Neither Respected Nor Dreaded,  Ham Brought His Scholars On Remarkably

Well. There Were Three Big Classes In The Room--First,  Third,  And

Fifth--And A Higher And Lower Branch Of Each; He Managed All,  With The

Assistance Of Occasional Monitors Selected From The Best Pupils. Good

Order Prevailed In The School,  For Little That Went On There Escaped The

Master'S Alert Eye. Even When He Drowsed At His Desk,  As He Sometimes Did

On Warm Afternoons,  The Work Was Not Delayed,  For He Was Known To Have A

Trick Of Awakening With A Jerk,  And Smartly Nailing A Culprit Or A

Dawdler.

The School To-Day Was In a Tense And Excitable Condition,  Now Heightened

To Fever By The Two Cobwebbed Mysteries Standing Against The Wall,  But

The Imperative Rattle Of Joel'S Cane On The Desk Quickly Induced A

Specious Show Of Industry.

'Gable!'

The Individual Addressed,  A Big Scholar In The Lower Third,  Was So

Absorbed In The Spectacle Provided By Haddon And Mcknight That He Failed

To Hear The Master'S Voice,  And Continued Staring Stupidly With All His

Eyes.

'Gable! This Way,  My Dear Child.'

Gable Started Guiltily,  And Then Fell Into Confusion. He Climbed

Awkwardly,  Out Of His Seat,  And Advanced Hesitatingly With Shuffling Feet

Towards The Master. It Was Now Evident That Gable Was Not A Large Boy,

But A Little Old Man,  Slightly Built,  With A Round Ruddy Clean-Shaven

Face And Thick White Hair. But His Manner Was That Of A Boy Of Eight.

'Hold Out,  My Young Friend!' Joel Commanded,  With An Expressive Flourish

Of His Cane.

Gable Held Out His Hand; His Toothless Mouth Formed Itself Into A Dark

Oval,  His Eyes Distended With Painful Expectancy,  And He Assumed The

Shrinking Attitude Of The Very Small Boy Who Expects The Fall Of The

Cane. The Situation Was Absurd,  But No One Smiled. Ham Raised The

Extended Hand A Little With The End Of The Dreaded Weapon.

'You Are Going The Right Way To Come To A Dishonoured Old Age,  Gable,' He

Said,  And The Cane Went Up,  But The Cut Was Not Delivered. 'There,'

Continued The Master,  'I Forgive You In consideration Of Your Extreme

Youth. Go To Your Place,  And Try To Set A Better Example To The Older

Boys.'

The Old Man Trotted Back To His Seat,  Grinning All Over His Face,  And Set

To Work At His Book With An Appearance Of Intense Zeal; And Joel Ham

Turned His Attention To The Prime Culprits. Having Marched The Youngsters

From The Front Desk Of The Third Class,  He Drew Desk And Form Forward

Into The Middle Of The Clear Space,  And Then Beckoned To Mcknight.

'Jacker,  My Man,' He Said Cheerfully,  'Bring Your Slate And Sit Here. I

Have A Little Job For You.'

Dick,  Standing Alone,  Watched His Mate Seat Himself At The Desk,  Elated

For A Moment With The Idea That Perhaps Jo Was Not Going To Regard Their

Offence As Particularly Heinous After All; But His Better Judgment

Scouted The Idea,  And He Returned To His Scrutiny Of The Wall. There Was

A Weak Spot Near Where Hector,  Peterson'S Billy-Goat,  Had Butted His Way

Through On A Memorable Occasion,  And Escape Was Still A Comforting

Contingency.

The Master Approached Mcknight With A Pencil As If To Set A Lesson,  But

This Was Merely A Ruse; Jacker Was A Hard-Headed Vicious Youth Whose

Favourite Kick Ham Wisely Reckoned With On An Occasion Like This. To The

Boy'S Surprise And Disgust He Was Presently Seized By The Neck And Hauled

Forward On To The Desk. His Legs,  Being Against The Seat,  Which Was

Attached To The Desk,  Were Quite Useless For Defence,  So That He Was A

Helpless Victim Under The Chastening Rod. It Was A Degrading Attitude,

And The Presence Of The Girls Made The Punishment A Disgrace To Rankle

And Burn. Jacker,  For Pride And The Credit Of His Boyhood Made No Sound

Under The First Dozen Cuts; But His Younger Brother Ted,  From His Place

In The Lower Fifth,  Set Up A Lugubrious Wail Of Sympathy Almost

Immediately,  And,  As His Feelings Were More And More Wrought Upon By The

Painful Sight,  His Wailing Developed Into Shrill And Tearful Abuse Of The

Master.

'You Let Him Alone,  See!' Yelled Ted,  When Jacker,  Unable Longer To

Contain Himself,  Uttered A Dismal Cry.

'Hit Some One Yer Size--Go On,  Hit Some One Yer Size!' Screamed Ted.

But Mr. Ham'S Whole Attention Was Devoted To His Task,  And The Younger

Mcknight'S Threats,  Commands,  And Warnings Were Entirely Ignored,

Although The Boy Continued To Utter Them Between His Heart Broken Sobs.

'Mind Who You'Re Hittin'! You'Ll Suffer For This,  Hamlet,  You'Ll See!

We'Ll Get Some One What'Ll Show You! Rocks For You Nex' Saterdee!

Ted Howled,  Jacker Howled,  But The Master Caned On Until He Thought He

Had Quite Accomplished His Duty In That Particular; Then He Let The Limp

Youth Slide Back Into His Seat.

Mr. Ham Returned To His High Stool To Rest And Recuperate. Thoughout The

Proceedings He Had Displayed No Heat Whatever,  And When He Addressed

Jacker It Was With His Usual Bland Irony.

'You Should Thank Me For My Pains,  My Boy,  But Youth Is Proverbially

Ungrateful. You Will Think Better Of My Efforts A Few Years Hence;

Meanwhile I Can Afford To Wait For The Verdict Of Your Riper Judgment,

Jacker--I Can Afford To Wait,  My Boy.'

Jacker'S Only Reply To This Was A Long Wail Expressive Of A Great

Disgust. That Outburst Was Too Much For The Already Over-Wrought

Youngster In The Lower Fifth; Starting Up With A Cry,  Ted Snatched One Of

The Leaden Ink-Wells From Its Cell In The Desk,  And Took Aim At The

Master'S Head. The Well Struck The Wall Just Above Its Mark,  And

Scattered Its Contents In Joel Ham'S Pale Hair,  In His Eyes,  Down His

Cheeks,  And All Over His White Moles. Amazement--Blind,  Round-Eyed,  Dumb

Amazement--Possessed The School,  And For A Few Seconds A Dead Silence

Prevailed. The Spell Was Broken By Dick Haddon,  Who Discovered His

Opportunity,  Plunged Like A Diver At The Weak Spot In The Wall,  Went

Clean Through And Disappeared From View. Ted Mcknight,  Who Had Awakened

To The Enormity Of His Crime At The Sight Of The Master Knuckling The Ink

Out Of His Eyes,  And Had Gone Grey To The Lips In His Trepidation,

Looking Anxiously To The Right And Left For A Refuge,  Saw Dickie'S

Departure; Jumping The Desk In Front He Rushed At The Aperture The Latter

Had Left In The Wall,  And Was Gone In The Twinkling Of An Eye.

The Master Mopped The Ink From His Hair And His Face With A Sheet Of

Blotting Paper,  And Calling Belman,  Cann,  Peterson,  Jinks,  And Slogan,

Made For The Door. Already Dick Haddon Was Halfway Across The Flat,

Scattering The Browsing Sheep To The Right And Left In His Flight,  And

Ted Was Following At His Best Pace.

'After Them!' Cried The Master. 'Two Whole Days' Holiday For You If You

Run Them Down.'

The Pursuit Was Taken Up Cheerfully Enough,  But It Was Quite Hopeless.

The Breakaways Were Heading For The Line Of Bush,  And The Sapling Scrub

Along The Creek Was So Thick That The Boys Would Have Been Perfectly

Secure Under Its Cover,  Even If The Pursuers Were Not In Hearty Sympathy

With The Pursued,  And The Pursuit Were Not A Miserable And Perfidious

Pretence.

Mr. Ham,  Recognising After A Few Minutes How Matters Really Stood,

Returned To The School. His Approach Had Been Signalled By A Scout At One

Of The Windows,  And He Found The Classes All In Order And Suspiciously

Industrious,  And Jacker Mcknight Still Sitting With His Head Sunk Upon

His Arms--A Monument Of Sturdy Resentment.

'My Boys,' Said The Master,  Looking Ludicrously Piebald After His Ink

Bath,  'Before Resuming Duties I Wish To Draw Your Attention To The Crass

Foolishness Of Which Our Young Friends Haddon And Mcknight Are Guilty.

You Perceive That Their Action Is Not Diplomatic,  Eh?'

'Ye--Yes,  Sir,' Piped A Dubious Voice Here And There.

'To Be Sure. Had They Remained They Would Have Been Caned; As They Have

Run Away,  They Will Receive A Double Dose And Certain Extra Pains And

Penalties,  And Meanwhile They Suffer The Poignant Pangs Of Anticipation.

Anticipation,  Jacker,  My Boy,  The Smart Of Future Punishments,  Is The

True Hell-Flame.'

Jacker Replied With A Grunt Of Derisive And Implacable Bitterness,  But

The Schoolmaster Seemed Much Comforted By His Apophthegm,  And Stood For

Several Minutes Surveying The Back Of Mcknight'S Head,  And Wearing A

Benignant And Thoughtful Smile.

Waddy Was Soon Possessed Of The Facts Of The Shameful Acts Of

Insubordination At The School And The Escape Of Dick Haddon And Ted

Mcknigd Strathern. "He

Is Afraid To Lose Sight Of His Regiment,  Lest They Become Banditti."

L'Isle'S Flushed Cheek And Compressed Lips,  Showed That He Felt The

Taunt,  While Sir Rowland Exclaimed,  In Surprise: "Are They So Unruly?

Then You Must Look To Them Yourself,  My Lord,  For I Shall Keep Colonel

L'Isle A While With Me. The Truth Is,  L'Isle,  I Divine Your Urgent

Business At Elvas. Some One There Has Given You Gross Offence,  And You

Seek Revenge Under The Name Of Satisfaction. There Is Always Sin And

Folly Enough In These Affairs; But Here,  Within Sight Of The Smoke Of

The Enemy'S Camp,  And Now,  When We Are About To Fall Upon Them,  These

Personal Feuds Are Criminal Madness. I Would Put