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Cock-House at Fellsgarth

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<h3>Chapter Eight.</h3> <h4>One too many.</h4> The seniors of Forder’s house were by no means gratified at the captain’s prompt reply to Dangle’s accusation. Indeed, that active and energetic official had written to Fisher on his own responsibility, and was now a little hurt to find that his colleagues were half inclined to repudiate his action. “Why ever couldn’t you speak about the thing before you wrote like that?” said Clapperton. “We don’t want another election.” “You weren’t going to sit down meekly, and let those fellows cheat without saying a word, were you?” retorted Dangle. “No—rather not. But that wasn’t the way to do it. It would have paid us much better to stand on our dignity.” “In other words,” said Fullerton in his melancholy voice, “to have a grievance, and nurse it well.” “You idiot!” said Clapperton. “I don’t want you to tell me what I mean.” “I wasn’t, I was telling the others,” said Fullerton. “But I agree with you. If we have another election and get beaten, we shall be far worse off than if we were able to take heaven and earth to witness we had been wronged and were too noble to seek revenge.” If Fullerton could have translated Cicero as well as he translated Clapperton, what a good Classic he would have been! “We’d better decline the new election at once,” said Brinkman; “it concerns me more than anybody else; and I agree with Clapperton.” “Why ever not have the new election?” said Dangle. “We’re bound to get our man in.” “Better decline it first,” said Clapperton. “They’ll be glad enough not to let it go to a trial, I expect.” “Hurrah for injured innocence,” said Fullerton; “it’s the best paying thing I know.” The result of this conference was, that Dangle went across after school next morning to the captain’s study where Fisher and Ranger happened to be calling at the same time. “Look here, Yorke,” said the secretary, adopting his most civil tones, “you quite misunderstood my letter to Fisher major. We don’t want another election. We’d just as soon let things stop as they are. It was rough on us, of course; but it divides the offices up more fairly to have them as they are.” “Thanks,” said Yorke, “that’s not good enough. We’ll have another election on Friday.” Dangle’s face fell. “You’re fools if you do,” said he. “Those five votes will make all the difference.” “I don’t care if they’ve five hundred,” said Yorke. “Oh, all right. You’ve no message about the cheats who kept our men out, have you? Probably they’ve been promoted to prefects!” “You took care not to commit yourself to any names; but, as you wrote to Fisher major, you probably include him as one of the cheats. If so, I dare say he’ll be glad to discuss the matter with you outside.” “I never said it was he,” said Dangle hurriedly. “But I know who it was.” “Three of our juniors, I understand?” said Yorke. “The fags of three of your prefects, yes.” “Fisher,” said the captain, “will you fetch Ashby, D’Arcy, and Fisher minor here?” The young gentlemen in question were not far away busily engaged in their joint study, with Wally’s assistance, in getting up a stock of impositions, which should serve as a common fund on which to draw daring the term. The idea was D’Arcy’s. “You see,” he had said, “we’re bound to catch it, some of as, and it’s a jolly fag having to do the lines just when they’re wanted. My notion is, if we just keep a little stock by us, it’ll be awfully handy. Why, suppose young Ashby were to get fifty lines at morning school next Saturday, what about his chance of getting into the 58th fifteen?” “It’s the 6th fifteen, not the 58th,” said Ashby. “Well, there’s not much difference.” “It would be jolly awkward,” said Ashby. “Yes; and you always do get potted just when it is jolliest awkward,” said D’Arcy. “That’s why it’s such a tip to have your impots written before you get them. Penny wise, pound foolish, you know.” It was not at all clear what this valuable aphorism had to do with the subject in hand, but it impressed the two new boys considerably. “And just fancy,” continued Wally, driving home his chum’s nails with considerable industry, “just fancy if young Fisher was to have to sit up here swotting over lines, just when his brother wants his vote in Hall on Friday! Why, one vote will make all the difference.” Fisher immediately called for pens, ink, and paper, which Wally and D’Arcy promptly supplied for him and Ashby, and a scene of unparalleled industry ensued. Even D’Arcy insisted on doing his share, which consisted of drawing niggers in various stages of public execution, labelled with the names of Clapperton, Dangle, and Brinkman, while Wally generally superintended and assisted, by playing fives against the wall. “I say,” said he presently, “I suppose it’s all out about your precious canvassing. That beast Percy has gone and blabbed—after me giving him toffee too!” “Never mind,” said D’Arcy, “we rather took it out of them, I fancy, yesterday. They won’t mess about with us in a hurry again.” “No, we did pull that off pretty well. I’m sorry for our seniors, you know. We did our best for them, and we shan’t be able to give them the same leg-up on Friday.” “They ought to be pretty civil to us this term, anyhow,” said Wally. Whereupon Fisher major entered the room. “Yorke wants D’Arcy, Ashby, and my minor. Come at once, he’s waiting.” “Don’t he want me?” said Wally, evidently afraid lest his services were going to be overlooked. “I was in it too, you know, Fisher.” “Were you? Oh, you’d better come too, then.” “Thanks.” And the four, disposing themselves meekly for their coming honours, followed, single file, into the captain’s room. “Wally wished to come too,” explained Fisher. “He says he was in it.” It perplexed the four heroes to see Dangle there. What did he want! And why did the captain look so stern? And, oh, horrors, what was that switch on the table for? Gradually it dawned upon them that the honours in store for them would fall rather thicker than they were prepared for; and Wally, for one, wished he had stayed at home. “You youngsters,” said the captain, “it is said that you four behaved unfairly last election, by keeping out five boys from voting. Is that true?” “Yes,” said Ashby. “They were only Modern kids,” explained D’Arcy. “They wouldn’t have got in for the second vote, if it hadn’t been for me,” remarked Wally. “I didn’t catch any boys; I couldn’t find any,” said Fisher minor. “You see, Yorke,” said D’Arcy, who began to realise that he was “boss of this show,” “these two kids are new kids; they oughtn’t to be licked; it’s Wally and me.” “Me?” exclaimed the injured Wally; “I like your style, young D’Arcy; what did I do?” “All right, it’s me then, if you like!” “I don’t mind being in it, to give you a leg-up,” said Wally, touched by the heroism of his friend, “but you might let a chap bowl himself out, you know.” “All right, Yorke, it was me and D’Arcy.” “You should say I and D’Arcy,” said Ranger. “What, were you in it? Good old—” “No, you young ass; it’s bad grammar to say me and D’Arcy were in it.” “I never knew you were. It’s the first we’ve heard of it; isn’t it, you chaps?” The chaps most emphatically agreed that it was. “Let them be, Ranger,” said the captain. “There’ll be time enough for a grammar lesson after.” “Can’t do it to-day, we’ve got syntax this afternoon,” said D’Arcy. “Now, you youngsters, look here,” said the captain. “You may think you’re very clever; but this sort of thing is cheating, and cheating is what cads do. We don’t want any of it inside Fellsgarth. Dangle, here are the youngsters, and here is the switch; will you lick them, or shall I?” “I don’t want to lick them. Let them off,” growled Dangle. The hopes of the culprits rose for a moment, but they went down below zero when Yorke picked up the cane. “Wheatfield, come here.” Wally held out his case-hardened hand and received half a dozen cuts, for which it is saying a good deal that they made the recipient dance. D’Arcy followed, and received his six with meek indifference. If he had come first, he would probably have danced. But as Wally had done that, he stood firm. Ashby received three cuts only, which astonished him dreadfully. It was his first acquaintance with the cane. He had never realised before what a venomous instrument it can be. Still, he bore it like a man. Poor Fisher minor had a similar experience. With his brother looking on, and his messmates to watch how he bore it, he passed through the ordeal creditably. His three “Ohs” varied in cadence from anguish to surprise, and from surprise to mild expostulation, “Oh!” “Ehee!” “Ow!” after which he felt very pleased, on his brother’s account, that he had not shed tears. “Now cut,” said the captain, “and if you’re bowled out in that sort of thing again, you won’t be let off so easy.” “Yorke’s a beast,” said Wally, when the shattered forces mastered once more in his study, “but he’s a just beast. He gave it us all hot alike.” No one disputed the proposition. “I thought he’d let you new kids off, but he didn’t. It’s just as well. It’ll do you good, and make you sit up.” “Jolly sell for that cad Dangle,” said D’Arcy. “He thought Yorke was going to shirk it.” “He can’t say that now,” said Ashby, rubbing the palm of his hand up and down his thigh. Dangle, meanwhile, had returned to his quarters with the unsatisfactory report of his mission. “Bother them!” said Clapperton. “They take advantage of us whenever there’s a chance. Now they’ve offered a new election, and licked the youngsters, the wind is out of our sails.” “When it comes to the time, I shall decline to be nominated,” said Brinkman. “That won’t be much good. You’ll get some of our fellows voting for you whether you stand or not. And if some vote, all must.” “We shall have to see all our men turn up,” said Dangle. “It was a tight enough shave for the secretaryship.” “Yes. If we don’t carry it now, we’d much better have left it alone. I only wish we had.” “There’s this to be said,” said Dangle, anxious to make the best of his mistake; “if we do get three officers to their one, there should be no doubt about our getting properly represented in the fifteen next week.” “Ah—yes; we’ve still that bone to pick with them.” As the Friday approached, signs of excitement in the coming conquest were plainly visible. By tacit agreement the return match between Percy’s adherents and Wally’s was postponed till after the election. Absentees at the last election were diligently looked up by their respective prefects, and ordered to be in attendance. Minute calculations were made by the knowing ones, which decided within one or two what Brinkman’s majority would be. Even in Wakefield’s it was admitted that the Classic chance was a slender one. “I wish it was all over,” said Fisher major. “I’m getting sick of these precious accounts already, and shall be glad to hand them over.” “You won’t lose them,” said Dalton, “if we can help. You may have to vote for yourself, though.” “Catch me. I’ve come to the conclusion I wasn’t born a treasurer, and I couldn’t conscientiously vote for myself. I only wish I could back out.” “You can’t do that now,” said his friend. “Bless you, we can keep the accounts for you. We couldn’t for Brinkman.” When morning school was over on the Friday, there was a general stampede for the Hall, where boys crowded up for good seats a quarter of an hour before the time, and enlivened the interval with cheers and demonstrations for their favourite candidate. Wally and his friends were particularly active in their corner, and addressed the meeting generally in favour of Fisher major. “Back up, you Classic kids!” shouted Wally, standing on his seat and apostrophising a group of the Sixth who were standing near. “Fisher’s your friend! Won the mile in 4-38; batting average 34.658742.3; bowling, 12 wickets an innings, and 3 runs an over. Never tells lies, or cheats. Always comes home sober and gives silver in the collection. He won’t waste your money or cook your accounts, like some chaps; and he’ll run the ball up the field, instead of sitting down in the middle of the scrummage like the Modern chaps to keep warm. Walk up! walk up! vote for Fisher and economy! Hooray for Fisher! Down with the swell mob!” Amid such torrents of eloquence the cause of Fisher major was not likely to go by default. Brinkman, too, was not without his champions, who, however, avoided set speeches and confined themselves to personalities and generalities, such as— “Who cheats at Elections?” “Oh, my hands, what a licking!” “How now—not me!” (Here Fisher minor coloured up.) “Look out, you chaps, there’s a Classic cad blushing.” “No! where? won’t he want a rest after it!” “Here comes Brinkman! Hooray for honesty and fair play! Hooray for the Moderns! Down with Wakefield’s kids! Send ’em home to their mas!” “Shut up there! Sit down, you youngsters.” Whereupon there fell a lull. Fisher minor surveyed the scene with anxious trepidation. If his brother were to lose now, it would be his—Fisher minor’s—fault. He would never be able to hold up his head again. How he wished he had a dozen votes! “Strong muster,” he heard some one say near him. “I expect every fellow’s here.” “Except Rollitt.” “Of, of course,” said the other, with a laugh, “no one ever expects him.” “Why not?” said Fisher minor to himself. “Why shouldn’t Rollitt come and vote?” He quite shuddered at the audacity of the idea; and yet, when he looked up to the front and saw his brother standing there, worried and uneasy, and realised that in a few minutes he was to stand his ordeal, the younger brother’s courage rose within him, and he edged towards the door. In due time Yorke arose. This time, amid the vociferous cheers of his own side, a few of the Moderns ventured to mingle howls. They soon discovered their mistake, for not even their own side was with them as a body. They were hooted down with execrations, and the result of this interposition was that the captain was cheered for twice the usual time. “You fellows,” said he, as soon as there was silence, “you probably understand from the notice why this meeting is called. The last election was very close, and I am sorry to say there was not fair play. I am still more sorry to say the offenders were juniors in Wakefield’s,” (terrific yells and hoots from the Moderns), “who ought to have known better, and who I hope are thoroughly ashamed of themselves,” (terrific cheers, during which, D’Arcy, Wally, and Ashby, who had been standing on a form, modestly took seats and exchanged defiant signals with the youth of the Modern side through the chinks of the crowd). “They have had the licking they deserve,” (“Not half of it!” and laughter), “as Dangle here, who was present at the time, will testify.” (Dangle scowled at this reference—What right had the captain to score off him?). “Of course under the circumstances it was necessary to have a new election. Fisher here,” (tremendous cheers, amidst which the culprits, considering that the storm had blown over, remounted their perches) “would scorn to be treasurer of the clubs, and everybody would scorn him too, if there was any suspicion of foul play about his election. He has resigned, like an honest man; and our business is now to elect a treasurer.” (Cheers and “Vote for Fisher major” from Wally.) Dalton rose and proposed his friend Fisher major, which Ranger briefly seconded. Dangle thereupon proposed Brinkman. He was sorry the School was being put to the trouble of this new election. They hadn’t wanted it on their side; and his friend had been very reluctant to stand. But of course, as the election was to take place, he hoped Brinkman would win by a majority which would show the School what Fellsgarth thought about the foul play which had been tried on at the last election. Clapperton seconded the nomination, and assured his friends that, now the offence had been acknowledged and atoned for by the castigation of the offenders, they would try to forget it and feel to the other side as if it had not occurred. Clapperton, of course, was cheered by his side; and yet his chief admirers did not feel as proud of him as they would have liked. His tone was patronising, and Fellsgarth could not stand being patronised, even by its captain. Just as the meeting was settling down for the important business of the vote, a sensational incident took place. The door swung open, and in strode Rollitt, with Fisher minor, panting and pale, at his heels. The new-comer, heedless of the astonishment caused by his appearance, strode negligently up to the front where the other prefects were, while his escort modestly slipped into the arms of his admiring friends. For a moment the meeting looked on with amused bewilderment. Then it suddenly dawned on everybody that this meant a new voter; and terrific shouts of jubilation went up from the Classics; during which Fisher minor had his back thumped almost in two. For once in his life he was a hero! How he wished his young sisters could have seen him then! “Never mind,” shouted Percy across the room, “he’s bound to vote the wrong side, or forget to vote at all.” “Order! Those who vote for Brinkman, hold up your hands.” It was far too serious to humbug now. Even D’Arcy was grave as he surveyed the force of the enemy. Two tellers had been appointed from either side, so that the votes were counted four times, and the total was not allowed till all were agreed on the result. “Brinkman has one hundred and twenty-eight votes.” Loud and long were the cheers which greeted this announcement. The knowing ones felt that it practically meant victory for the Moderns, for it was one more vote than Fisher major had won with last time. “Now, hands up for Fisher major.” Amid dead silence the Classic hands went up. Anxious eyes were cast in Rollitt’s direction. But he, strange to say, was all there, and held up his hand with the rest. Fisher major himself at the last moment kept his own hand down. He had decided that, if Brinkman voted for himself, he would do the same. Brinkman had voted. But, when it came to following his example, the candidate’s pride went on strike, and, whether it lost the election or not, he declined to vote, Three of the tellers evidently agreed, but the other had to count again before he made the figure right. Then the written paper was handed up to Yorke, “Brinkman 128, Fisher major, 129—Fisher is elected.” <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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