The Cock-House at Fellsgarth Part 27

"Notice.

"The following players protest against the exclusion of two names from the above list, and decline to play on Sat.u.r.day, viz., Brinkman, Fullerton, Ramshaw major, and Smith."

Underneath this, a juvenile hand had carefully inscribed in bold characters--

"Jolly good riddance of bad rubbish." Signed, "Wheatfield, W., D'Arcy, Ashby, Fisher minor."

Fisher minor, who signed this latter manifes...o...b.. proxy had hastened to carry the news of it to his brother.

"The cads!" said the junior. "We are sure to be beaten; I shall never dare to get Rollitt twice running."

"What do you mean?" asked the elder brother, turning round.

"Oh, don't tell," said Fisher minor, "I didn't mean to say anything; you see, I thought he wouldn't fly out, so I asked him last time."

"You! What do you know of Rollitt? Why should he play to oblige you?"

Fisher minor, wishing he had not mentioned Rollitt's name, related, somewhat apologetically, the story of the adventure on the Shayle.

"Why," said the elder brother, "you saved his life, young 'un. No wonder he's civil to you!"

"Oh, please don't tell him I told you."

"All right; but what about the boat? It must have been smashed to bits.

What did Mrs Wisdom say?"

"Oh, Rollitt was very honourable and bought her another. She told me so--and I've seen the new boat."

"Rollitt bought it! Why, he's as poor as a church mouse. How could he get the money, I'd like to know?"

"He got it the very next day," said Fisher minor. "I suppose he had some; but promise you won't say anything."

"What's the use of making a secret of it? I won't say anything unless you like. But I must go to Yorke."

The captain was quite prepared for the action of the Moderns.

"They've struck," said he. "Now the question is, shall we play on Sat.u.r.day, or scratch the match?"

The unanimous verdict was in favour of playing, whatever the result.

"Of course we are never sure of Rollitt until we've got him," said he, "so we may have to play without him."

"Would Stratton play for us?" asked some one.

"No, don't let's go outside and ask masters. We're in for a licking; but we'll make the best fight we can."

So yet another notice appeared on the board before nightfall.

"The School team on Sat.u.r.day will consist of the following." (Here followed the names, all, of course, on the Cla.s.sical side.)

"A meeting of the clubs is summoned for October 3, at four p.m., in Hall."

Of these two announcements the first amused, the second perplexed the good young men of the Modern side. The new fifteen consisted half of raw outsiders who had never played in a first-cla.s.s match before, and were utterly unknown to fame on the football field. But the summons for October 3 was puzzling. Did it mean a general row, or was the captain going to resign, or was an attempt to be made to expel the mutineers?

Clapperton did not like it. He had expected Yorke would have come to terms before now, and it disconcerted him to see that, on the contrary, the captain seemed determined to carry the thing through.

The only thing, of course, was for the Moderns to abstain in a body from the meeting. But could they depend on their forces to obey their leaders? It was all very well to compel four players to refuse to act; but to constrain 120 boys to do the same was a less easy task.

It seemed to Clapperton that he would do best to strike the iron while hot; and for that purpose he made a descent next morning into the quarters of his f.a.g. If he could secure the juniors, it would be something.

He found Percy there alone, diligently working. That young gentleman had in fact been reminded in pretty forcible terms by Mr Forder that he had not yet handed in his Latin letter of apology ordered a week ago.

Percy had hoped if he forgot it long enough Mr Forder would forget it too, and it had startled and grieved him very much to-day to receive notice that unless he brought his _poena_ in an hour he would be sent up to the doctor.

Consequently, while his comrades were out enjoying themselves, he was here in a shocking bad temper, with a Latin Dictionary in front of him, trying to express his contrition for having used bad language in cla.s.s a week ago.

He had got a little way. Latin prose for a Modern junior is a trifle th.o.r.n.y; but Percy had a rough and ready way with him which, if it did not emulate Cicero, at least made his meaning tolerably clear.

"Care Magistere Fordere, Ego sum excessive tristis ut ego usebam malam linguam in cla.s.sem alteram diem. Ego apologizo, et ego non facerebo illud iterum. Ego spero ut vos voluntas prodonnere," (it took him some time to arrive at this cla.s.sical term for "you will forgive") "me hanc tempus."

This was all very well, but it only took up about six lines out of ten, and he was in despair how to continue. His ideas, his temper, and his Latin had all evaporated. When Clapperton entered, he did not even look up.

"Cut, whoever you are, and hang yourself," said he.

"Hullo, Percy! What's the row with you?"

"Don't talk to me," said Percy. "It's that beast Forder."

"Where are the others? I want to talk to you youngsters."

"How do I know where every a.s.s in the place is? What do you want?"

The tone in which the inquiry was made was not encouraging.

"It's about the meeting next week. We don't mean to attend it."

"Don't you? Our lot does. We're going. Rather."

"It's a dodge of the other side. They're going to get the clubs into their own hands, and we've decided none of our fellows shall go. Then they can't do anything."

"Can't they? You don't know my young brother Wally as well as I do.

He'll do something, bless you; but I rather fancy they won't have it all to themselves. _We'll_ put a spoke in their wheels."

"Look here, young Wheatfield," said Clapperton, put out by the obtuseness of his f.a.g, "the long and short of it is you're not to go.

You know what's happened. Our side has been snubbed and cut out of the games by those fellows; and now they want to get us to come to their precious meeting to help them collar the clubs."

"That's just why I and my chaps are going to turn up," said Percy.

"We'll let them know!"

"Do you hear what I say? You're not to go, you or any of them. If you can't understand the reason, I dare say you'll understand a thrashing.