The Crofton Boys Part 12

In that ran across the playground he was stopped. He was wanted to collect clean snow for the boys who were bent on finishing their snow-man while it would bind. He should be let off when he had brought snow enough. But he knew that by that time his fingers would be too stiff to hold his pen; and he said he did not choose to stop now. Upon this Lamb launched a s...o...b..ll in his face. Hugh grew angry,--or, as his schoolfellows said, insolent. Some stood between him and the house, to prevent his getting home, while others promised to roll him in the snow till he yielded full submission. Instead of yielding, Hugh made for the orchard-wall, scrambled up it, and stood for the moment out of the reach of his enemies. He kicked down such a quant.i.ty of snow upon any one who came near, that he held all at bay for some little time. At last, however, he had disposed of all the snow within his reach, and they were pelting him thickly with snow-b.a.l.l.s. It was not at any time very easy to stand upright, for long together, upon this wall, as the stones which capped it were rounded. Now, when the coping-stones were slippery after the frost, and Hugh nearly blinded with the shower of snow-b.a.l.l.s, he could not keep his footing, and was obliged to sit astride upon the wall. This brought one foot within reach from below; and though Hugh kicked, and drew up his foot as far and as often as he could, so as not to lose his balance, it was s.n.a.t.c.hed at by many hands. At last, one hand kept its hold, and plenty more then fastened upon his leg. They pulled: he clung. In another moment, down he came, and the large, heavy coping-stone, loosened by the frost, came after him, and fell upon his left foot as he lay.

It was a dreadful shriek that he gave. Mrs Watson heard it in her store-room, and Mr Tooke in his study. Some labourers felling a tree in a wood, a quarter of a mile off, heard it, and came running to see what could be the matter. The whole school was in a cl.u.s.ter round the poor boy in a few seconds. During this time, while several were engaged in lifting away the stone, Tooke stooped over him, and said, with his lips as white as paper,--

"Who was it that pulled you,--that got the first hold of you? Was it I?

O! Say it was not I."

"It was you," said Hugh. "But never mind! You did not mean it."--He saw that Tooke's pain was worse than his own, and he added, in a faint whisper,--

"Don't you tell, and then n.o.body will know. Mind you don't!"

One boy after another turned away from the sight of his foot, when the stone was removed. Tooke fainted, but, then, so did another boy who had nothing to do with the matter. Everybody who came up asked who did it; and n.o.body could answer. Tooke did not hear; and so many felt themselves concerned, that no one wished that any answer should be given.

"Who did it, my dear boy?" asked Firth, bending over him.

"Never mind!" was all Hugh could say. He groaned in terrible pain.

He must not lie there; but who could touch him? Firth did; and he was the right person, as he was one of the strongest. He made two boys pa.s.s their handkerchiefs under the leg, and sling it, without touching it; and he lifted Hugh, and carried him across his arms towards the house.

They met Mr Tooke, and every person belonging to the household, before they reached the door.

"To my bed!" said the master, when he saw: and in an instant the gardener had his orders to saddle Mr Tooke's horse, and ride to London for an eminent surgeon: stopping by the way to beg Mr and Mrs Shaw to come, and bring with them the surgeon who was their neighbour, Mr Annanby.

"Who did it?"

"Who pulled him down?" pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth of the household.

"He won't tell,--n.o.ble fellow," cried Firth. "Don't ask him. Never ask him who pulled him down."

"You will never repent it, my dear boy," whispered Firth. Hugh tried to smile, but he could not help groaning again. There was a suppressed groan from some one else. It was from Mr Tooke. Hugh was sadly afraid he had, by some means, found out who did the mischief. But it was not so. Mr Tooke was quite wretched enough without that.

Everybody was very kind, and did the best that could be done. Hugh was held up on the side of Mr Tooke's bed, while Mrs Watson took off his clothes, cutting the left side of his trousers to pieces, without any hesitation. The master held the leg firmly while the undressing went on; and then poor Hugh was laid back, and covered up warm, while the foot was placed on a pillow, with only a light handkerchief thrown over it.

It was terrible to witness his pain; but Mr Tooke never left him all day. He chafed his hands, he gave him drink; he told him he had no doubt his mother would arrive soon; he encouraged him to say or do anything that he thought would give him ease.

"Cry, my dear," he said, "if you want to cry. Do not hide tears from me."

"I can't help crying," sobbed Hugh: "but it is not the pain,--not only the pain; it is because you are so kind!"

"Where _is_ Phil?" he said at last.

"He is so very unhappy, that we think he had better not see you till this pain is over. When you are asleep, perhaps."

"Oh! When will that be?" and poor Hugh rolled his head on the pillow.

"George rides fast; he is far on his way by this time," said Mr Tooke.

"And one or other of the surgeons will soon be here; and they will tell us what to do, and what to expect."

"Do tell Phil so,--will you?"

Mr Tooke rang the bell; and the message was sent to Phil, with Hugh's love.

"Will the surgeon hurt me much, do you think?" Hugh asked. "I will bear it. I only want to know."

"I should think you hardly could be in more pain than you are now,"

replied Mr Tooke. "I trust they will relieve you of this pain. I should not wonder if you are asleep to-night as quietly as any of us; and then you will not mind what they may have done to you."

Hugh thought he should mind nothing, if he could ever be asleep again.

He was soon asked if he would like to see his uncle and aunt, who were come. He wished to see his uncle; and Mr Shaw came up, with the surgeon. Mr Annanby did scarcely anything to the foot at present. He soon covered it up again, and said he would return in time to meet the surgeon who was expected from London. Then Hugh and his uncle were alone.

Mr Shaw told him how sorry the boys all were, and how they had come in from the playground at once, and put themselves under Firth, to be kept quiet; and that very little dinner had been eaten; and that, when the writing-master arrived, he was quite astonished to find everything so still, and the boys so spiritless: but that n.o.body told him till he observed how two or three were crying, so that he was sure something was the matter.

"Which? Who? Who is crying?" asked Hugh.

"Poor Phil, and I do not know who else,--not being acquainted with the rest."

"How glad I am that Dale had nothing to do with it!" said Hugh. "He was quite on the other side of the playground."

"They tell me below that I must not ask you how it happened."

"Oh, yes! You may. Everything except just who it was that pulled me down. So many got hold of me that n.o.body knows exactly who gave _the_ pull, except myself and one other. He did not mean it; and I was cross about playing with them; and the stone on the wall was loose or it would not have happened. O dear! O dear! Uncle, do you think it a bad accident?"

"Yes, my boy, a very bad accident."

"Do you think I shall die? I never thought of that," said Hugh. And he raised himself a little, but was obliged to lie back again.

"No; I do not think you will die."

"Will they think so at home? Was that the reason they were sent to?"

"No: I have no doubt your mother will come to nurse you, and to comfort you: but--"

"To comfort me? Why, Mr Tooke said the pain would soon be over, he thought, and I should be asleep to-night."

"Yes; but though the pain may be over, it may leave you lame. That will be a misfortune; and you will be glad of your mother to comfort you."

"Lame!" said the boy. Then, as he looked wistfully in his uncle's face, he saw the truth.

"Oh! Uncle, they are going to cut off my leg."

"Not your leg, I hope, Hugh. You will not be quite so lame as that: but I am afraid you must lose your foot."

"Was that what Mr Tooke meant by the surgeon's relieving me of my pain?"

"Yes, it was."

"Then it will be before night. Is it quite certain, uncle?"

"Mr Annanby thinks so. Your foot is too much hurt ever to be cured.

Do you think you can bear it, Hugh?"