The Cock-House at Fellsgarth Part 56

He was right. Next moment the vast foresail fell with a run by the board, and the nine athletes below were nearly shot into the air by the force of the collapse. The coats, fortunately, held together sufficiently well to enable them to be hauled on board in a piece; but as they were soaked through, they afforded very little comfort to the distressed seamen, who decided forthwith to shorten sail at once, and take to the poles once more.

But by this time the "c.o.c.k-House," thanks to the tremendous impetus it had just received, was twenty yards from the sh.o.r.e; and Wally, when he put down his pole, nearly went after it, in the vain search for a bottom.

"Here's a go!" said he; "I say, you chaps, I almost fancy, after all, Rollitt must be up the mountain. What do you say?"

"I thought so all along," said Fisher minor. "If he is, Yorke and Stratton will find him."

"Good old Yorke! I say--we may as well back water a bit."

Easier said than done. The old punt, now she was once out on the vasty deep, behaved pretty much as she and the wind between them pleased. For a time it looked very much as if, after all the explorers would reach their destination.

But presently--just, indeed, as the explorers had started a small football match (a.s.sociation rules), Cla.s.sics against Moderns, to keep themselves warm, the fickle breeze shifted, and sent the "c.o.c.k-House"

lumbering insh.o.r.e a mile or so north of the river-mouth. The Cla.s.sics had just scored their 114th goal as she grounded, and it was declared by common consent that the voyage was at an end.

Luckily, she came ash.o.r.e near to a little creek, into which, by prodigious haulings and shovings, she was turned; and here, in a rude way, they succeeded in mooring her until a more convenient season.

The call-over bell was just beginning to ring when the nine mariners got back to Fellsgarth.

Great cheering was going on on the Green, and boys were crowding together discussing some great news.

"What is it?--Rollitt turned up?" asked the juniors.

"No; haven't you heard? Yorke and Stratton went up to look for him on Hawk's Pike. They didn't find him, but _they got to the top_!"

"Got to the top! One of our chaps got to the top of Hawk's Pike.

Hurroo. Yell, you chaps. Bravo, Yorke! Bully for Fellsgarth!"

"I wish they'd found Rollitt, all the same," said Fisher minor; "I'm afraid he's gone for good."

"Not he. Didn't we nearly find him to-day, you young m.u.f.f?" retorted Wally. "Besides, a fellow who's gone for good wouldn't come and buy sixpenny-worth of Abernethys at our shop in the night, would he?"

Fisher minor took what comfort he could from the a.s.surance, and trooped in with his fellow-adventurers to call-over.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

"BURY THE HATCHET!"

Notwithstanding Yorke's exploit, and the prevailing hopefulness of the juniors, the feeling of gloom deepened on Fellsgarth when another day ended, and no news was forthcoming of the lost boy.

To a great many it was a shock to hear he was not on the mountain. From what was known of his eccentricities and recklessness, it seemed as likely as not he would retreat up there and remain till he was fetched down.

When it was found he was not there, there seemed to be nowhere else left to look. The lake (quite independently of the eventful cruise of the "c.o.c.k-house") had been thoroughly searched; Penchurch had been ransacked; every cottage and home in the neighbourhood had been called at. The river-banks, up and down stream, had been searched too, and daily communication with Rollitt's home made it increasingly clear he had not gone there.

The incident of the six Abernethys and the 6 pence was not seriously considered. There was no evidence that Rollitt had effected the mysterious purchase, and the eccentricities of the young shopmen left it very doubtful whether more than half of that story was not a sensational fiction of their own.

Masters and boys alike went to bed full of trouble and foreboding.

Fisher major, more perhaps than any one, took the situation to heart.

He had never ranged himself with Rollitt's accuser; yet, had it not been for his bad management and stupidity, all the trouble would never have come about. Now, if anything grave had happened to the missing boy, Fisher major felt that on his shoulders rested all the blame.

But his misery was turned into rage when, just before bedtime, a f.a.g came over with the following letter from Dangle:--

"I am not surprised you should be so ready to be imposed upon. You have done mischief enough already; but you have been robbed all the same.

Any one but a simpleton would see that the turning up of the money just when it did was a suspicious coincidence. What could be easier than for the thief either to impose on Widow Wisdom, and get her to bring back the money with the story about the shirt; or else, during one of his frequent visits there, as soon as he saw that he was found out, to slip it into the pocket himself! Where he got it from I don't pretend to guess; but I don't mind betting that somebody in the School is poorer by 4 10 shillings for this tardy act of rest.i.tution. It deceived no one but you. `None are so blind,' etcetera.

"R. Dangle."

Fisher fairly tore his hair over this scoundrelly doc.u.ment. His impulse was to go over then and there, drag the writer out of his bed, and make him literally swallow his own words. He might have done it, had not the captain just then looked in.

"Why, what's up?" said the latter, who seemed none the worse for his big climb. "What's the matter?"

"Matter? Read this!" shouted Fisher.

Yorke read the letter. An angry flush spread over his face as he did so.

"He shall answer for it to-night!" said Fisher. "No, not to-night. Let the cad have a night's rest. He shall answer for it to-morrow, though, before the whole School. Let me have the letter, old man."

"If you'll promise to make him smart for it."

"You can make your mind easy about that." Next morning, to the surprise of every one, a notice appeared on the door of each house.

Notice.

"A School meeting is summoned for this afternoon at 3.

"(Signed) C. Yorke (Wakefield's).

G. Clapperton (Forder's).

P. Bingham (Stratton's).

L. Porter (Wilbraham's)."

"What's up now?" said Wally, as he read it. "Like Clapperton's cheek to go sticking his name under our man's--and old Bingham, too! What right has he to stick his nose in it?--and, ha, ha, Porter! that's the green idiot in specs, who calls himself captain of Wilbraham's! Well, I never!"

"Shall you go?" asked D'Arcy.

"Rather! Wonder what they're up to, though?"

"Perhaps Rollitt's found, and they're going to trot him out."

"Perhaps they're going to have an eight-handed mill, those four--you know--like what we had."

"I know, when you rammed me below the belt," said Cottle.

"Crams. You know I played on your third waistcoat b.u.t.ton. I was never below it once."

"Perhaps Yorke's going to give a lecture on the ascent of Hawk's Pike."