The Willoughby Captains Part 24

But in these lofty hopes he was getting to be a trifle disappointed. In his own house, of course, especially among those over whom he was wont to rule in athletic sports, his authority was paramount. But these, after all, const.i.tuted only a small section of Willoughby. Over the rest of the school his influence was strangely overlooked, and even the terrors of his arm failed to bring his subjects to obedience.

It was all very well at first, when the one idea was indignation against the doctor's new appointment. But as soon as the malcontents discovered that they had raised one more tyrant over their own heads, they began to find out their mistake, and did their best to correct it. They argued that as they had elected Bloomfield themselves they weren't bound to obey him unless they chose; and when it came to the point of having to give up their own will in obedience to his, they remembered he was not the real captain of Willoughby and had no right to order them!

So poor Bloomfield did not find things quite as comfortable as he had expected.

One of the first rebuffs he got was administered by no less stately a hand than that of Master Telson of the schoolhouse.

This young gentleman ever since his last unfortunate expedition in "Noah's Ark" had been somewhat under a cloud. His forced absence from the river for a whole week had preyed upon his spirits. And when at the end of that period he did revisit his old haunts, armed with a captain's permit, it was only to discover that whatever small chance he ever had of c.o.xing his house's boat at the coming regatta, had vanished under the new arrangement which had brought Riddell into the boat.

It is only fair to say that this disappointment, keen as it was, had no effect on his loyalty. He was as ready as ever to fight any one who spoke ill of the schoolhouse. But it certainly had given him a jar, which resulted in rather strained relations with some of his old allies in Parrett's.

Of course nothing could shake his devotion to Parson. That was secure whatever happened, but towards the other heroes of Parrett's, particularly the seniors, he felt unfriendly. He conceived he must have been the victim of a plot to prevent his steering the schoolhouse boat.

It was the only reason he could think of for his ill-luck; and though he never tried to argue it out, it was pretty clear to his own mind some one was at the bottom of it. And if that was so, who more likely than Bloomfield and Game and that lot, who had everything to gain by his being turned out of the rival boat?

This was the state of mind of our aggrieved junior one afternoon not long before the regatta, as he strolled dismally across the "Big" on his way to the river. Parson was not with him. He was down c.o.xing his boat, and the thought of this only reminded Telson of his own bad luck, and added to his ill-temper.

He was roused from his moody reflections by the approach of two boys, who hailed him cheerily.

"What cheer, Telson, old man?" cried King. "How jolly blue you look!

What's the row?"

"Nothing," replied Telson.

"We've just been down to see the boats. Awful spree to see old Riddell steering! isn't it, Bosher?"

"Yes," said Bosher; "but he's better than he was."

"Never mind, they won't lick us," said King. "You should have seen our boat! Bless you, those schoolhouse louts--"

"King, I'll fight you!" said Telson, suddenly.

"Oh! beg pardon, old man, I didn't--eh--what?"

This last remark was caused by the fact that Telson was taking off his coat. King, utterly taken aback by these ominous preparations, protested his sorrow, apologised, and generally humiliated himself before the offended schoolhouse junior.

But Telson had been looking out for a cause of quarrel, and now one had come, he was just in the humour for going through with the business.

"Do you funk it?" he asked.

"Oh, no; not that, old man," said King, still friendly, and very slowly unb.u.t.toning his jacket; "but I'll apologise, Telson, you know."

"Don't want any apologising; I want to fight," said Telson. "I'll take young Bosher too."

"Oh!" said Bosher, rather alarmed, "I don't want to fight."

"I knew you were a beastly funk!" said Telson, scornfully.

"No, I'm not," said Bosher, meekly.

"Get out of the way!" cried the majestic Telson, brushing past him towards King, who now stood with his coat off and a very apologetic face, ready for the young bantam's disposal.

Telson and King fought there and then. It was not a very sanguinary contest, nor was it particularly scientific. It did Telson good, and it did not do King much harm. The only awkward thing about it was that neither side knew exactly when to stop. Telson claimed the victory after every round, and King respectfully disputed the statement. Telson thereupon taunted his adversary with "funking it," and went at him again, very showy in action, but decidedly feeble in execution. King, by keeping one arm over his face and working the other gently up and down in front of his body, was able to ward off most of the blows aimed, and neither aspired nor aimed to hit out himself.

The "fight" might have lasted a week had not Game, coming up that way from the boats, caught sight of it. As it was neither an exciting combat nor a profitable one, the Parrett's monitor considered it a good case for interfering, as well as for calling in the authority of the popular captain.

"King and Telson," he said, stepping between the combatants, "stop it, and come to Bloomfield's study after chapel. You know fighting in the `Big' is against rules."

"What are we to go to Bloomfield for?" demanded Telson, whose temper was still disturbed.

"For breaking rules," said Game, as he walked on.

"Shall you go?" said Telson to King as the two slowly put on their coats.

"Yes, I suppose so, or he'll give us a licking."

"I shan't go; he's not the captain," said Telson.

"I say, you'll catch it if you don't," said King, with apprehension in his looks. "They're always down on you if you don't go to the captain when you're told."

"I tell you he's not the captain," replied Telson, testily, "and I shan't go. If they want to report me they'll have to do it to Riddell."

With which virtuous decision he went his way, slightly solaced in his mind by the fight, and still more consoled by the prospects of a row ahead.

Telson was quite cute enough to see he had a strong position to start with, and if only he played his cards well he might score off the enemy with credit.

He therefore declined an invitation to Parson's to partake of shrimps and jam at tea, and kept himself in his own house till the time appointed for reporting himself to the captain. Then, instead of going to Bloomfield, he presented himself before Riddell.

"Well?" said the captain, in his usual half-apologetic tone.

"Oh!" said Telson, "I'm reported, please, Riddell."

"What for? Who reported you?" asked Riddell.

"Game--for fighting," replied Telson.

"He hasn't told me of it. You'd better come in the morning."

"Oh! it's all right," said Telson. "I was fighting King in the `Big'

this afternoon."

Riddell looked perplexed. This was the first case of a boy voluntarily delivering himself up to justice, and he hardly knew what to do.

However, he had found out thus much by this time--that it didn't so much matter what he did as long as he did something.

"You know it's against rules," said he, as severely as he could, "and it's not the first time you've done it. You must do fifty lines of Virgil, and stop in the house on Monday and Tuesday."

"All right! Thanks," said Telson, rapidly departing, and leaving Riddell quite bewildered by the apparent grat.i.tude of his f.a.g.

Telson betook himself quietly to his study and began to write his lines.

It was evident from the restless way in which he looked up at every footstep outside he did not expect to remain long undisturbed at this harmless occupation. Nor was he disappointed.