Follow My leader Part 44

"Good day, young gentlemen," said that worthy. "Can't keep away from us, can't yer?"

"Hullo, Tom! We've lost our way in the mist," said Cresswell. "Where are we?"

"Reckon you're in the bay, and a swim to the pierhead."

"So near! We made sure we were outside the Sprit. How long have you been here?"

"Come here when the tide turned, we did," said Tom, "with a boat full, and no mistake. Say, young gentlemen, you ain't forgot the poor mariner that lost his boat, have yer? It's cruel hard to lose your living and have to begin afresh."

"If you mean you want a shilling for piloting us ash.o.r.e," said Cresswell, "here you are. Will you take us, or will your mate?"

d.i.c.k grew uncomfortable, and, under pretence of wanting to examine some of the fish on the floor of the lugger, he scrambled up the side, and got in.

"Come back, d.i.c.k; do you hear?" called Cresswell. "We must go back if one of those fellows will run us in. Will you come, Tom?"

Visions of the bar-parlour of the "Dolphin" hovered before Tom's mind as he looked down at the speaker and the shilling that lay in his hand.

He was just about to consent, when he felt his arm nudged by d.i.c.k, who was crouching down over the fish at his feet.

"Tom White," said the boy, looking up nervously, "don't go ash.o.r.e. They are going to arrest you for p.a.w.ning that boat that didn't belong to you.

Tell your mate to see us ash.o.r.e. There's another shilling for you!"

Tom took his pipe out of his mouth and gaped at the boy. Then he slowly pocketed the shilling. Then he relieved himself of an oath. Then he called his mate--

"Jerry, see the squires ash.o.r.e."

With fluttering heart d.i.c.k scrambled back into the boat, followed by the hulking Jerry, who, in a very few minutes, ran them comfortably on to the beach, and made an end of all their perils for that day.

They reached Templeton just in time for call over; and no one knew, as they walked into Chapel that evening, through what adventures they had pa.s.sed since they left Templeton in the morning.

Early next morning d.i.c.k could not resist the temptation of going down to call on Mr Green.

"Well, did the boats all come in?" he inquired.

"All, bar Tom White's. And they do say it will be long enough before any one sees him in these parts again. He's got wind somehow. It's wonderful the way news travels on water--so it is."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

IN WHICH HEATHCOTE MOUNTS HIGH AND FALLS LOW.

George Heathcote celebrated the early hours of his holiday by "sleeping in," until the boom of the Chapel bell shot him headlong out of bed into his garments.

Coote, who had not yet mastered the art of venturing into Chapel alone, grew more and more pale as the hand of the clock crawled on, and the desperate alternative loomed before him, either of sharing his unpunctual friend's fate, or else of facing the exploit of walking unaided into his stall in the presence of gazing Templeton.

He had almost made up his heroic mind to the latter course, when a sound, as of coals being shot into a cellar, broke the stillness of the morning air; and next moment, Heathcote descended the stairs at the rate of five steps a second.

"Come on, you idiot; put it on!" he cried, as he reached Coote, and swept him forward towards the Chapel.

It was a close shave. Swinstead was shutting the door as Heathcote got his first foot in, and, but that the usher was unprepared for the desperate a.s.sault of the two juniors, and lost a second in looking to see what was the matter, Coote would have scored his first bad mark, and Heathcote's name would have figured, for the fifth or sixth time that term, on the monitor's black list.

As the latter young gentleman had nothing but his trousers, slippers, and coat on over his nightshirt, he deemed it prudent to bolt as soon as chapel was over, so as to elude the vigilant eyes of the authorities.

He, therefore, saw nothing of d.i.c.k as he came out; and d.i.c.k, as we have seen, had too much on hand, just then, to see him.

At length, however, when the toilet was complete, and the glorious liberty from lessons began to swell our heroes' b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Heathcote's thoughts turned to d.i.c.k.

"Where's old d.i.c.k?" said he to Coote; "did you see him at breakfast?"

"Yes; he was at the other table. But I didn't see where he went afterwards."

Heathcote didn't like it. d.i.c.k had done him a bad turn yesterday over that levee business, and the least he could have done to-day would have been to find him out and make things jolly again.

But, instead of that, he had vanished, and left it to Heathcote to find him out. "Go and see where he is," said he to Coote.

The meek Coote obeyed, and took a cursory trot round the School Fields in search of his leader. No d.i.c.k was there, and no one had seen him.

Heathcote's face grew longer as he heard the report. It was getting serious. d.i.c.k was not only ill-treating him; he was cutting him.

He went off to Cresswell's study, as a last chance. The study was empty; and even the caps were gone from the pegs. Base desertion!

As he left the study he met Pledge.

"Ah, youngster! Going to grind all to-day?"

"I was looking for d.i.c.k."

"Oh! David looking for Jonathan. Poor chap! Johnny has given you the slip this time."

"Where has he gone?" asked Heathcote, trying to appear indifferent.

"The saintly youth has gone for a day's fishing in the Bay, with the dearly-beloved Cresswell and the reverend Freckleton. They have got him an exeat from the Doctor, they have bought him lines and bait, they have filled his pockets with good things. So you see piety pays after all, Georgie. What a pity you are not pious, too! You wouldn't be left so lonely if you were."

Heathcote was too hard hit to reply; and Pledge was kind enough not to attempt any further consolation.

It had been coming to this for weeks past. Georgie had refused to believe it as long as he could. He had stuck to his chum, and borne all the rebuffs which had rewarded him, patiently. He had even made excuses for d.i.c.k, and tried to think that their friendship was as strong as ever.

But now he saw that all the time d.i.c.k had been falling away and cutting himself adrift. This was why he left the "Select Sociables" the moment Heathcote joined them. This was why he went to the levee as soon as he saw Heathcote was not going. And this was why he had hidden out of the way this morning, for fear Heathcote should find out where he was going, and want to come too.

Georgie laughed bitterly to himself, as he made the discovery. As if he cared for fishing, or boating, or sandwiches! As if he cared about being cooped up in a tarry boat the livelong day, with a couple of such fellows as Cresswell and Freckleton! As if he couldn't enjoy himself alone or with Coote--poor young Coote, who had come to Templeton believing d.i.c.k to be his friend, whereas d.i.c.k, in his eagerness to toady to the "saints," would let him go to the dogs, if it wasn't that he, Heathcote, was there to befriend him.

So Heathcote went forth defiant, with Coote at his heels, resolved to let Templeton see he could enjoy himself without d.i.c.k.

He laughed extravagantly at nothing; he feigned to delight himself in the company of every idler he came across; he scorned loudly such stupid sport as fishing, or tennis, or fives.

He meant to make his mark. And then d.i.c.k, when he came back, would gnash his teeth with _envy_ and wish woe to the hour when he was fool enough to desert his n.o.blest friend!

"Tell you what'll be a lark, Coote," said Heathcote, as the two strode on, arm in arm, followed by a small crowd of juniors, who, seeing they were "on the swagger," hoped to be in the sport as spectators. "Tell you what; we'll have a walk round the roofs. I know where we can get up. We can get nearly all round the Quad. Won't it be a spree?"