Acton's Feud Part 20

"One side won't, of course," said Taylor, cheerfully. "That is natural, and the usual thing. Do you know, I never played football, but I like refereeing immensely. Positive it's the best thing after playing, and I know that a really first-cla.s.s referee is a very rare fowl. Of course it's the off-side rule and, etc."

Taylor delivered himself of a little homily on the subject of refereeing.

He was enthusiastic almost to the point of forgetting his neuralgia, and Todd got quite interested in the theme so earnestly handled. He had not thought there was much fun in it until the house-master unfolded its possibilities, but he took over the whistle fairly sanguine.

"I'll do my best, sir," said Gus, in conclusion; "and if they stone me off the Acres----"

"I'll bury my reputation as a prophet under the missiles."

In one thing Todd was certainly right. When he found Hargon's _v_.

Sharpe's pitch and told the a.s.sembled twenty-two--rather diffidently, I must own--that he was the deputy referee, they did gasp.

"Show us your whistle, Gus," said Higgins, Hargon's captain, doubtfully.

Gus held it up, with a genial and childlike smile.

"Got the rules in your pocket, too, I suppose."

"I have," said Todd--"for reference. But I know _now_, Higgins, that goal-keepers cannot take more than two steps with the ball, and----"

Sharpe's lot guffawed at Todd's neat little thrust at Higgins's little failing as a goal-keeper.

"But don't you worry, Hig; I'll see you through all right. Three-quarter each way, I suppose?"

Todd gave his whole mind to the refereeing, and soon warmed to business.

He found that there was heaps more fun in it than he had bargained for, and as he was a sharp, quick, and clever youth he came out of the ordeal with flying colours. He made mistakes, naturally, but momentous issues depended on none of them, and he felt he had not done so badly when Higgins, at half-time, spoke to him as one in authority to another. But Palmer, the captain of Sharpe's lot--the beaten side--put the coping stone to a pleasant afternoon by asking Gus to referee for them against Merishall's. Gus walked off the field a happy man.

From that afternoon Todd had no excuse for loafing away any halfer. His services as referee were in demand, not merely as a matter of utility, but of preference. Taylor, who had watched rather anxiously Todd's progress, smiled easily at the success of his understudy.

"I say," said Bourne to me, "what's come over Todd? Blessed if that usual a.s.s didn't handle the Fifth _v_. Sixth to-day simply beautifully.

When you're lynched, Gus will fill your shoes completely. Talks so-so, too. Who's improving him?"

I acted on Phil's advice, and Todd and I parcelled out the outstanding fixtures between us. Then Todd became one of the best-known fellows in the school, and strolled up the hill with Worcester, Acton, Vercoe, and other heroes as to the manner born. The old, lazy, shallow, shifty, shiftless Gus was drifting into the background every day.

Then Todd gave us a final shock. I was hurrying down the High when a constable asked me if I could tell him "where a young gentleman named Todd lived."

"I'm pa.s.sing by his house," said I, more than a trifle puzzled as to what the police might want with Gus. "Hope it isn't house-breaking, constable?"

"No, sir," said he, laughing. "It is a matter of ice-breakin'."

I expect I looked mystified.

"Mr. Todd, sir, fished out of the water just below the Low Locks a common ordinary drunk, Robins--a bargee. That was yesterday afternoon, and this morning the superintendent sends me to see how he is."

I looked more blankly ignorant than before.

"He's kept it dark, I see, sir. There isn't a bigger fool alive than Robins when he's drunk--which he mostly--what is--and he acted yesterday up to the usual form of drunks. He _would_ go on the ice just below the locks, when it would hardly bear a sparrer, let alone a drunk Robin, and he naturally goes under before he'd gone a dozen yards. Mr. Todd went for him without, I fancy, considering the risks. He broke the ice up to that forsaken Robins, and waded in after him. When _we_ got there he was up to his neck in water, and he'd got the fool by the collar; then we pulled 'em both out. Mind, up to his chin in that frozen water! We thought Robins was a goner from cold when we landed 'im, and asked Mr.

Todd's name as bein' likely to be required at the inquest. But, bless you, sir, Robins pulled through all right; that sort generally does."

"Was there any one to help Todd, when he went for the fellow?"

"No, sir; he just waded in and took his chance. I wouldn't--at least not for an ord'nary drunk. Mr. Todd just ran home as he was: said the sprint would warm him to rights. How is he?"

"Got a vile cold; he was barking pretty well all chapel."

"And Robins," said the policeman, in disgust, "doesn't own up to a snuffle. This Mr. Todd's house, sir?"

"Yes. I'd just ask to see Mr. Taylor, the house-master, first. I fancy he'll be pleased to see you."

The constable's plain, unvarnished tale gave the Rev. E. Taylor as pleasant a ten minutes as he had enjoyed for some time, and he pa.s.sed on the worthy man to the butler with instructions as to "something hot."

Then he rapped on Todd's door.

Decidedly the ship _Agustus Vernon Robert Todd_ "had found herself."

CHAPTER XVII

RAFFLES' BILL

It was with hearty thankfulness at the idea of being finally rid of Raffles that Jack walked over to the "Lodestone" by himself on the Thursday, jingling his last few shillings in his pockets. Raffles was waiting for him in the stables, and he was very friendly and familiar, which always annoyed Jack immensely.

"Glad you're in time, sir, and to 'ear the dibs a-rattlin' in your pockets."

"Because they'll rattle in yours, soon, I suppose. I make out I owe you about ten shillings, Raffles."

"'Ow do you make that out, Mr. Bourne?"

"Rabbits, cartridges, and dummy pigeons. I'm about right, I fancy?"

"Right as far as they go."

"As far as they go, of course--not farther. Then here you are."

"And the gun," said Raffles, calmly, looking into vacancy, and not seeing Jack's coins--"leastwise, wot was a gun."

"Am I to pay for that filthy article?" said Jack, angrily. "Why, it nearly blew my brains out!"

"'As'e to pay for that breech-loader gun?" said Raffles, laughing softly as at some good joke. "Why, of course you have."

"My opinion is, Raffles, that that gun was rotten. It wasn't worth a sovereign. I don't believe it was ever fit to shoot with, now."

"Of course, _now_," said Raffles, with a sneer. "_Now_, when you've got to pay for it."

"I don't know so much about 'have got to pay for it' at all. That grin of yours doesn't improve your looks, Raffles," said Jack, who was rather nettled by Raffles' sneer.

"Well, my bantam c.o.c.k," said Raffles, savagely, "I only 'opes as this 'ere bill won't spoil yours. And let me tell you, young shaver, I want the money."