"Well," answered Cherry Ripe, "I know where you got the seed. It was
from my good friend, Batson. And his boy be coming here to work next
week. He’s learned all your gardener at the school can teach him, and
that wouldn’t sink a ship. He brought the tale to his father, and his
father brought it to me; and so I got the ground ready for you, knowing
what a dashing fellow you are, and what a hurry you’d be in."
"More fool you then," said Trelawny.
"Not so fast. The seed you sowed was lettuce seed! Good-evening, my
dears, and when you say your prayers afore you go to sleep to-night, you
can all thank the Lord that you’ve done a bit of honest, useful work for
once in your lives!"
* * * * *
We talked it over during prep., and Pedlar said—
"On the whole, we’d better keep this afternoon’s work to ourselves."
And I said—
"We were overreached by superior cunning, and we’d better give Cherry
Ripe best in future."
And Trelawny said—
"Wait! This, in a way, is a defeat. But I’ll arrange a jolly good
Waterloo for Cherry Ripe yet."
Meaning, of course, that he would be Wellington, and that Cherry Ripe
would be merely Napoleon.
However, though I didn’t say it to Trelawny, I doubt very much if he is
clever enough to score off Cherry Ripe till he grows up. Then, of
course, Cherry Ripe will find him a bitter and relentless foe.
*THE QWARRY*
*No. IX*
*THE QWARRY*
If your parints happen to live in India, of corse holidays are not all
they might be. Becorse India is too far off to go to often, and such
relations as aunts and uncles don’t seem much to care to have you if you
are the son of an Indian soldier. But grandmothers always seem to want
to have you; at leest they do in the case of Travers; but his parints
are ded. Anyway me and Morris have to stop at Dr Dunstan’s for
holidays, and so we have to be friends at those times. I am eleven and
he is twelve and we are very diffrent, him being never knone to lose a
conduct mark, and me being ordinry. I am called Foster and the hapiest
day of my life was when I got ten shillings all at once, being my ninth
birthday in a postal order from my father. The first fealing was one of
shere joy, and the second fealing was that if it had been a pound it
would have been better.
I remember the birthday only too well, though nearly two years ago,
because immedeetly after getting the money I wrote to Mr Gammidge—the
grand toy and games man—for some important things wanted by me and my
chum, Smythe—him that cut off the Doctor’s tiger’s tail with such
disasterous results. And by grate ill-luck that beest Steggles looked
over my sholder and saw how I had begun my letter. I had asked Smythe
how to begin it in a very respectful way, so as to please Mr Gammidge,
and Smythe had said, "I should make it as friendly as you possibly can;"
and I had said, "yes." Then I thort that as the friendliest letters I
ever write are to my mother, I would begin it like that; and I had
written down "Darling Mr Gammidge, I shall be very grately obliged by
your sending me if you have time by return of post"—certain things.
Becorse Mr Gammidge was quite as much to me as my mother in those days,
if not more.
Well, the beestly Steggles saw this and set up a loud and hideous yell
of laughter which was very paneful to me and Smythe. And presently,
when he had drawn the attenshun of many chaps to the letter, he told us
on no account to send it, but to write in a firm and manly tone and
_order_ the things. He said when you are sending postal orders you have
always the rite to be firm and manly; and when you are asking for them,
that is the time to be affecshunite. So we wrote the letter again and
merely said, "Dere Mr Gammidge," and sined ourselves, "yours truly,
Arnold Foster and Huxley Smythe."
I must now return to Morris, who was left at Merivale with me during the
grate summer holiday last year. In a way his luck was friteful although
he had nowhere to go in holidays. Even his amusements were such that
they turned into marks and pleesed the masters, such as natural history;
and his conduct marks were so exstraordinry that he never lost any at
all without an effort.
In face he was nothing, being sandy-haired and pail with a remarkably
small mouth and watery eyes. He had not much courage but was fond of
chaps who had, and he liked me and Smythe more for our courage than
anything. We tried without success to increese his courage, and he
helped us a lot with work that didn’t want courage but only intelleck,
of which he had a grate deal.
It was reely owing to my courage that the adventure of the old slate
qwarry happened. You see the holiday competishun for that year was a
colleckshun of insect life, such as beetles, moths and butterflies, and
as Merivale happened to be a fine place for insect life in general,
Morris determined to win the prize if he could.
When the Doctor and his family went off to the seaside, the last thing
he said to me and Morris was this—
"Farewell, my dear lads. Persue all innocent pleasures and give no
corse of offence during the vocation. The Matron will be at your
service and she has the key of the liberary. The playing field is also
open to you, and having regard for the seeson I relax a little of the
riggid discipline of time and place, of hours and bounderies, proper to
the term. But I put you on your honour in this matter and feal that the
chastening influenze of Morris will possibly serve to restrain the
native exooberance of Foster. Lastly I have directed that the
comissariat shall be ordered on a generous—nay, lavvish skale.
Good-bye, my dear boys, and God bless you."
We said "good-bye," and I hoped that the Doctor and Missis Dunstan and
the gurl Dunstans would have a good time; and the Doctor thanked me and
said he was glad I had the grace to make that wish; and after he had
gone, Morris said that he very nearly said "God bless you" to the
Doctor, but staid just in time. And I said it was jolly lucky he had,
for it certainly would have been friteful cheek to do it.
Then two cabs rolled away with the Doctor and his luggage and his
family, and me and Morris were left. We found what ’comissariat’ ment
at dinner, and I will say that the food was magnificent, and the Matron
was a brick all through the holidays—very diffrent to what she is in
term time; and she told us a lot about her private life, which turned
out that she was a widow Matron with a son. And Morris said "Why don’t
you bring your son here, Matron?" And I said "Of corse, why don’t you?"
And Morris said "It would hurt the Doctor’s fealings a good deal if he
knew you had a son being educated somewhere else." And she said it was
all right and the Doctor was as kind as any man could be, and that the
son was working hard and was a very good son, being an office-boy in a
lawer’s office in London.
Then came the qwarry and my temptashun of Morris, which ended in Morris
going to the qwarry.
The qwarry was certainly out of bounds, and it was when out of bounds in
secret with Freckles and other big chaps that I found all the wonders of
it. It was a stone qwarry in Merivale Grate Wood, and there were game
preserves near by, where Freckles hunted and practiced to be a
bush-ranger when he went home to Australia. But of course Morris had
never seen the place, because he never went out of bounds at all, from
fear and also from goodness, but cheefly from fear.
I said to Morris on a fine day in the middle of August—
"Have you got any draggon-flies in your collectshun?"
And he said—
"There are no draggon-flies in Merivale."
And I said—
"You’re a liar."
And he said—
"Well, anyway, I never saw one."
And I said—
"In the old qwarry in Merivale Grate Wood there are billions."
And he said—
"They can’t live without water to cool their tails."
And I said—
"Any fool knows that. There’s a stream and a pond in the qwarry and the
draggon-flies and blackberries and butterflies, including peacocks and
red admirals, are all as common as dirt."
"It’s a friteful pity it’s out of bounds," said Morris to me, and I
explained that, though out of bounds in term time, yet, owing to the
Doctor’s speshul words to us before he went on his holiday, every thing
was free now.
Then Morris said—
"He put us on our honour."
And I said—
"I’ve got just as much honour as you for that matter. But my honour
covers the hole of Merivale Grate Wood, and if your honour doesn’t do
the same, you’ll loose the draggon-flies."
Morris thought over this a good deal.
At last he said—
"There’s no doubt that Slade and probably Thompson minor will get
draggon-flies in their collectshuns, owing to their living by swamps and
rivers."
And I said—
"Do what you like, only it happens I’m going to the qwarry to-morrow for
the hole day, and Matron is going to make me sandwiches to take."
"If you honestly think it is an honourable thing to do——" said Morris.
"I honestly do think so," I said.
"I believe you’re right," he said. Then rather a footling idea struck
him.
"How would it be if we wrote a polite letter to the Doctor?" he asked.
"Not me," I said. "You may be sure that the Doctor, in his hard-eerned
vocation, doesn’t want polite letters from me or even you. In fact, it
might so much anoy him that he might change his mind all together and
not put us on our honour at all, but merely say we were to keep bounds,
which would be deth to me. Not that I should do it in any case."
So after a lot more rot and jaw about his blessed honour, Morris came,
and the day was jolly fine to begin with, and we went well armed for
sport in genral. He had his butterfly-net and killing-bottle—a beestly
thing full of cemicals but merciful in its way, becorse when you put a
butterfly in and shut down the cork the butterfly becomes unconshus
without pane and dies pretty cumfortably. All the same, as Morris said
to me while we watched a lesser tortussshell passing away, "deth is
deth," and the killing bottle was the only part of natural history he
did not care about. Before we got to the qwarry he was wondering if the
cemicals in the bottle would be strong enough for a draggon-fly.
I said—
"You’ve got to jolly well catch them first."
I had the sandwiches and a sling made of lether, which hurls a stone
friteful distances. I had also got in secresy a packet of ’Windsor
Pearl’ cigarets and a box of matches. These I did not intend to show to
Morris, because it wood have upset his honour again; but I had been a
smoaker for years, having been tought by Steggles, and it seemed to me
if I couldn’t have a cigaret in the summer holidays now and then, I
might as well give up smoaking all together.
There were tongue sandwiches, and bread and butter ones, and two
hard-boiled eggs each, and two large lumps of carraway seed cake. It
seemed a good deel to carry and yet not much to eat. I also took an
india-rubber cup for water; but Morris said the water in the qwarry was
no doubt where the draggon-flies lived in the first stages of their
careers, and he douted if we could drink it with safety. He littel nue
that he would soon drink it whether it was safe or not.
[Illustration: AT ONE SPOT THE DESCENT WAS VERY PERILOUS.]
There was only one way into the qwarry and that was down a very steep
and dangerous place. The opening into the qwarry was all filled up and
there were raillings all round it to keep anybody from falling into it
by night. Morris funked getting down for some time; then a draggon-fly
actually sored past and so much excited him that he said he was reddy if
I went first. I told him to see exactly what I did and then I went
down. At one spot the dissent was very perilous owing to a huge stone
that stuck out in the middle of the cliff. You had to curl over it and
feal with your feet for a tree-root below, then, for one grate moment,
you had to let go with your hands and cluch at a pointed stone on the
right hand side. This stone was allways loose and wanted very delicate
handling. To me, with years of practice, it was eesy; but I fealt sure
it would be a bit of a twister for Morris.
He lowered down his killing-bottle and net and caterpillar-box, then he
began to slowly dissend. But at the critikal moment he stretched for the
pointed stone before he had got his foot on the root and all his wait
came on the stone with the terrible result that the stone gave way. And
when the big stone gave way, about a million other stones gave way also,
so that Morris fell to the ground in an avvalanch of stones and the
woods resounded with the sound. My first thort was keepers and my
second thort was Morris.
He was alive and hardly hurt at all more than a spraned ankle. He went
very white and sat down and shivered and felt his bones and limbs one by
one. He said it was his first great escape from deth.
And I said—
"You may not have escaped all the same, becorse you’ve pulled down the
cliff in your dissent, and that was the only way out of the qwarry, and
now there isn’t any way out at all!"
Which was perfectly true and not said to friten Morris. Getting out of
the qwarry was far far worse than getting in and wanted a nerve of iron,
which I hadn’t mentioned to Morris till I got him safely in; but now
he’d pulled down the place compleatly and left a naked precipice, and my
nerve of iron was no good. In fact we were evidently going to have a
grate adventure, and so I told Morris.
It certainly spoilt the day for him, becorse you can’t very well have a
ripping good picknick if you don’t know how the picknick is going to
end.
"It’s a fine place for natural history no doubt," he said; "but we can’t
pretend we’re going to have a good time now."
"We’re going to have a long time anyway," I said.
He smiled in rather a gastlie way and said he hoped not, becorse the
weather was changeing and it might rain later on.
Then I told him that wether didn’t matter as there was a pretty dry cave
where Freckles used to do his cooking of rabbits on half-holidays.
Morris seemed glad about the cave. He rubbed his ankle and said, so far
as that went, he fealt pretty right. Presently he said—
"There are certainly red admirals here in grate quantities and also
draggon-flies, but somehow I don’t feel I’ve got the heart to kill
annything for the moment, espeshully after what I’ve just eskaped
myself. Deth is deth."
"You’ll be better after food," I said.
But he wouldn’t hear of food.
"We must face the possishun," he said. "Here we are in a qwarry and we
can’t get out."
"Yes," I said.
"Very well. Then, there being no food in the qwarry except what we have
brort with us, we shall soon be hungry."
"Yes," I said. "I am now."
Morris went on trying to be calm, but I could see the more he explained
the situashun the more fritened he got. His voice shook when he said
the next thing.
"You can’t go on being hungry for more than a certain time. After you
reech a certain pich, you die."
"Yes," I said.
"Well, there you are," he said.
He figetted about with his killing-bottle and things, then made a
hopeless sort of a sound like an engine letting off steem.
"We must consider meens of eskape," I said. "People come here sometimes,
no doubt.
"Only boys out of bounds," said Morris faintly. "Oh, what would I give
to see the face of Freckles peep over the top!"
"It’s impossible," I told him. "Freckles is spending the holidays with
some cousins in Norfolkshire. But there are often keepers in the woods
to look after the game."
"Then we must shout at intervals, night and day—as long as we’ve got the
strength to do it, said Morris.
"Before each shout we will eat a sandwich to increese our strength," I
said. But Morris fancied half a sandwich would be safer.
I thort it wasn’t much good beginning by starving ourselves. In
adventures nobody begins by starving—they end like that; but Morris, who
has a watch, looked at it and said the time was only half-past ten and
that, even if we were safe and within reach of food, we should not eat
any for two hours and a half. But I said planely I could not waite that
time and it ended by our dividing the food into two heaps of exactly the
same size to a crumb. And I eat a sandwich boldly and fearlessly, but
Morris shook his head and said it was foolhardy.
He took a very hopeless view from the first, and even thort that
perhaps, when my food was all gone and his hardly begun, I should turn
on him with the feerceness of starvashun and tare his food away from
him. But I said, "No, Morris. What ever tortures I may suffer, I am a
gentleman, and I would rather die a hundred times than take as much as
one seed out of your peece of cake."
This comforted him rather. He put his hand on his chin and stared
before him in a very feeble manner.
"Deth is deth," he began again.
"That’s the third time you’ve said that," I told him, "and if you say it
once more, I’ll punch your head. Now, I’m going to utter the first
grate shout, and I hope it may bring a keeper—not Thomas or Waxy West,
for they are both very hard and beestly men, and very likely wouldn’t
rescue us even if they new we were here; but the under-keeper, Masters.
He will certainly save us, and if he does, I’ll give him my packet of
cigarets."
I shouted six times; then I shouted six more times; then I told Morris
to have a shot. But he made such a piffling, feeble squeak that you
could hardly have heard him a quarter of a mile off.
"Lucky I can howl," I said, "or we should both be done for without a
dout. Why, a lamb that has lost its mother would get up more row than
that."
Morris was rather hurt at this. Me explained that he was making an
Australian sound tought him by Freckles.
"It may not be loud," he said, "but it is a well-none sound in Australia
and travel grate distances espeshully over water."
The menshun of water made us go and look at the pond. I was fritefully
thirsty by now and drank some. It was grey in colour but clear when
seen in my india-rubber cup and quite holesome to the taste. Morris
douted, but still he drank. I advised him to catch some draggon-flies
and he said he would after the next time for shouting had come. We
arranged that I should shout every half-hour, and Morris wanted to give
me one sandwich from his store as payment for the exershun of shouting;
but I skorned it and told him I would not think of doing so.
After the second shouting, which did nothing, used my sling a bit and
neerly hit a bird, and Morris cought a draggon-fly and let it go out of
pitty, and then he cought another and kept it to see if the
killing-bottle would kill it. It did. After about half a minute in the
bottle the draggon was gone, and we shook him out and examined his
butiful markings of yellow and black and his transparent wings, that had
the colours of the rainbow on them when the sun fell on them in a
particular manner.
Morris stroaked it in a sorroful way.
"It is out of its missery now. I wish me and you were," he said.
I said we hadn’t begun our missery yet. I advised him to eat a sandwich
and he did, but very reluctantly.
He said that water would keep life in the human frame for many weeks.
He also said that he fealt, in a damp place like this, we might eesily
get pewmonia. He wondered if I hadn’t better shout every quarter of an
hour. He also thort his watch was going far too slow owing to his fall
down the side of the qwarry. The sun had gone behind some rather dark
clouds and we couldn’t be sure where it was.
The only thing that happened during the next hour was that the
draggon-fly came to again, not being ded but merely incensible. It
lifted a paw rather feebly to its forehead and evvidently had a
headacke. Then it took a step or two and shivered a lot. Somehow it
grately cheered Morris the draggon-fly recovering. He sed it had come
out of the jaws of deth and so perhaps we should. He gave it an atom of
tongue out of a sandwich, but it was not up to eating, and turned away
from it. Then Morris got it some water to wet its glittering tail. This
certainly refreshed it and so Morris dashed a few drops on its head
which refreshed it still more. At half-past two it rose and flew
several inches and at three it disappeered.
By this time I had eaten all my sandwiches and drunk tons of water and
was pealing my first hard-boiled egg.
Suddenly Morris had an idea. He had only eaten one sandwich and was of
course famishing with hunger. He said—
"If you was to write a message and tie it round a stone and sling it
into space, it might be found and red. Then a resque party would be
arranged and we should be saved."
It was pretty good for Morris, and I took out my pocket-book instantly
and wrote three messages. And he wrote three. He sed it was like men on
sinking ships, who send off messages in bottles that are found many
years afterwards in Iceland. And I said it was. Of corse we hoped one
at leest of the six messages might be found pretty soon. Years
afterwards was no good to us.
I merely wrote—
"Lost in Grate Wood Qwarry and unable to get out. Arnold Foster. Come
at once."
And Morris wrote—
"At the point of deth in Grate Wood Qwarry. No eskape. Food neerly
done. A handsome reward will be given. William Arkwright Henderson
Morris."
I asked him how he nue a handsome reward would be given, and he said he
didn’t, but that he felt it was a safe thing to say and might make all
the diffrence to anybody finding the message. Then I shot off the six
messages rapped round stones, and they eesily flew over the edge of the
qwarry. I then shouted again and eat my first egg.
Just when it began to rain Morris had another grate idea. He said—
"Didn’t you say something about a packet of cigarets some time ago?"
And I said—
"Yes, and I am glad you reminded me about them, becorse I just feal that
one will do me a lot of good."
Then I pulled them out and opened the packet and took one and lit it.
"It is very restful in such an adventure as this," I told Morris.
Then he explained his idear. It is well none that when you are learning
to smoak, your appetite is often spoilt for a time. Now Morris thort
that if he smoaked, he would not want food, and so much valuable food
might be saved, and life prolonged if necessary.
He said—
"To you, who smoak so eesily, no dout it is no good, but I have never
smoaked, and if I took a cigaret and went through with it, it might turn
me off eating for some time."
This was true, but I pointed out a grate danger that Morris had
forgotten.
"That is all right and I will of corse share my cigarets with you, and
as there are twenty, that will be ten each," I said; "but I must
seeriously warn you, Morris, that to a perfect beginer, like you, many
things might happen besides merely a fealing against tongue sandwiches.
You might be absolutely sick and then——"
"All the food in me would be wasted," said Morris in a very tragick
tone.
He turned quite white at this idea. He said it would be madness to do
anything to weaken his system at such a critikal time, and I said so
too. Then he asked me to go and smoak further off, because the very
smell made him feal rather strange after what I had told him.
I smoaked three cigarets bang off and they only made me hungrier than
ever. Then the rain became rather bad and at four o’clock we entered
the cavern. At least I did, but Morris stood at the door ready to run
out and shout if by a lucky chance anybody came in sight on the edge of
the qwarry. But nobody came and the next serious thing was that my
voice began to get husky after so much shouting. Morris said it was the
cigarets, but I told him it was owing to yelling all day every
half-hour, which undoubtedly it was.
At six I went to sleep for some time in the cave and Morris did not wake
me, because he said that I was gaining strength by it. When I woke it
was getting darkish and I thort it would be a good thing to make a fire.
Morris thort so too and we made one reddy with a lot of ded fern that
Freckles had put long ago into the cavern. We took the paper that had
rapped up our lunch, and put it under the fern, and covered it with my
coat to keep it dry; and after dark we lighted it, and it made a good
blaze for a minute but unfortunately went out owing to the rain.
The rain, in fact, began to pour steddily and it was a partickularly
dark evening. Morris became a simple worm after dark. He took a small
bite out of a sandwich and said his prayers from end to end every
half-hour. I had only got my cake left now, and it seemed to me better
to have one good meel and have done with it than keep messing about like
Morris was. So I finished my cake and tried to go to sleep again.
We found that water came through the roof of the cavern in rather large
quantities, and Morris had a new terror. He said—
"If we can’t get out of the qwarry, then I don’t see how water can get
out, and so, if it rains more than a certain amount, the qwarry will get
full and we shall be drowned."
Which showed what a footling state of mind Morris had got into.
Presently I sneezed and he said of corse that it was the beginning of
pewmonia. Then he asked for a match to see the time and it was six
minutes past ten. Then I shouted again at the cavern entrance without
result.
He kept on asking for matches to see the time until there were only five
left, and I said we must keep these for immergencies, and he said he
supposed we must.
At last he went into a sort of sleep after shedding some teers and
pretending it was a cold in his head. Then I lighted a cigaret and found
much to my supprise that I was beginning to feal queer myself with a new
sort of queerness quite new to me.
I woke Morris and told him that I was sorry to say I was ill; and he
said he was undoubtedly very ill too and had been dreeming of his
mother, which he only did when frightfully ill. He also asked me if I
believed in ghosts and I said I thort I did. And he said he always did.
There were some awfully strange noises happening outside at this time,
and I sakrificed another match and found it was neerly one o’clock.
Then we went to the mouth of the cavern and listened to a peculiar
creepy sound far off. The rain had stopped and a sloppy looking moon
was coming up. Morris shivered.
"That might be the mournful yell of some wretched ghost," he said.
"It’s owels," I said, but he did not think so. He thort it was too
miserable for owels.
It came neerer and certainly was not owels.
Then a thort struck me.
"It’s a resque party!" I said.
We shouted with all our might and screamed and yelled, and presently
there was an ansering yell and we fealt that with any luck we were now
saved. Soon toarches gleemed through the trees, and there were sounds of
human feet and langwidge.
I said to Morris—
"We are now saved, Morris, and if you are not going to eat your piece of
carraway seed cake, I should very much like to."
And he said—
"You can eat everything. I have such a fealing of thankfulness to be
saved, that I couldn’t eat for the moment, empty as I am. Besides there
will be supper provided."
A man shouted above us and I heard the hated voice of Waxy West.
"Be you little devils down there?" he cried out.
"Yes, we are, Mr West," I answered him very loud. "We’re doing no harm
at all—merely waiting quietly to be resqued. We only came for
draggon-flies, and the side of the qwarry gave way unfortunately, or we
shouldn’t have had to trouble you at such a late hour."
He growled in rather an unkind tone of voice, and we saw there were two
other men with him. Then they began to make arrangements for the resque
and one was told to go and get a rope.
"If ever I catch you in this place again, I’ll break both your necks,"
said Waxy West; and though this was rather strong, it comforted Morris
in a way, becorse it showed that West hadn’t found his messages offering
a handsome reward. If there had been any question of that, he would
have been polite and kringeing; but he was just as usual.
We found out, after, that Matron had got in a funk and gone to the big
house, where the people belonging to Merivale Grate Wood live; and the
people had sent their keepers in all directions to save us.
These keepers got a rope and made knots in it and lowered it down, and
told us that we must climb up it. And I let Morris go first, which he
did; and then I went up, and the keepers saw us home.
I told Waxy West that I should mention the subject to my parints in
India and that I hoped they might send at least a pound to him, and he
said it wasn’t likely, becorse he’d done them the worst turn any man
could. And he said that if I wanted to reward him, I would never go
into Merivale Grate Wood again; and I promised I wouldn’t go in again
for a full month. Which he evvidently didn’t believe.
There was fritefully good tuck waiting for us at school, and the Matron,
who had been blubbing, said a grate many rather unkind things while we
eat it. But she promised not to tell Dr Dunstan and he does not no even
to this day.
Morris didn’t win the holiday competishun becorse, as he expected, both
Slade and Thompson minor brort back draggon-flies. We might eesily have
gone to the qwarry again, after the month I promised Waxy West was over,
but nothing would tempt Morris to go, though I bought ten yards of good
rope for my own use. However, he paid me sixpence for getting him back
his killing-bottle and his butterfly-net and his caterpillar-box, which
were forgot in the excitement of the resque; and that was all to the
good.
*RICHMOND AND THE MAJOR-GENERAL*
*No. X*
*RICHMOND AND THE MAJOR-GENERAL*
The fellows talk such a lot of absolute piffle about what I did, and
tell such a frightful number of regular right down lies about it, that I
have decided to write out the whole thing myself from the beginning,
that the truth shall be known. There is nothing like truth really, and
it is the only thing that lasts, and I am going to tell the truth
fearlessly, because honesty is the best policy, however hard it may be
at the time.
Well, after I gave up preaching to the chaps at Merivale, owing to the
row about Browne and Stopford and all the unpleasantness afterwards, I
felt that my occupation was gone in a sort of way; and it so weighed on
my mind that I was one of the first to get German measles and one of the
last to recover. I was shut up in the hospital and had a great deal of
time on my hands for thought, and the more I thought, the more I felt
that my preaching gift ought not to be wasted like this. I tried
preaching to myself once or twice, to keep my hand in, and I found that
I was clean out of practice and couldn’t work up to "thirdly and lastly"
without getting regularly tied in a knot. Then I tried to preach to the
matron, and she said it was morbid and told the doctor (for I heard her
through the door) that I was very low and taking a most unhealthy
interest in religion. After which I had a lot more most uncalled for
and beastly medicine, and was isolated for three more days; because the
doctor said it might be something else threatening. What was
threatening really was my conscience. I was perfectly well and
frightfully eager to be doing good in the world; and as it seemed simply
useless to try to do any more good at Merivale, chiefly owing to that
son of Belial called Stopford, I came to the terrific resolve of going.
I decided to leave quietly. I thought on the last day of being isolated
I would steal out into the world in a spirit of calm courage, and try to
do good, and leave the rest to Providence.
I did nothing rashly, because it is well known that Heaven helps those
who help themselves, and we must not throw all the burden on Providence,
however much inclined we may feel to do so. We are given our talents to
use, not to put under a bushel. I had ten shillings and a telescope,
worth eight-and-six. I had nothing else but my volume of Skeleton
Sermons. It seemed enough.
One is bound to be worldly-wise up to a certain point; and this is right
and proper. If you have a mission, you must use the best means for
carrying it out, and even money may be put to very proper purposes if it
is spent with a high object. Besides, the labourer is worthy of his
hire.
With my money I determined to use artificial means for getting as far
from Merivale as possible. For ten shillings you can go an immense
distance by train, though a half-ticket was no longer possible for me,
as I was over twelve; but a train is far too public and I should have
been discovered. Therefore I decided upon the simple plan of hiring a
bicycle. The time was May and the evenings were long. Therefore I
determined to hire the bicycle during the hour when everybody would be
in chapel for evening prayer. Being isolated I could do this.
The eventful night was fine and warm. I slipped out unperceived, but I
had taken the precaution not to wear my hat with the school colours, as
that would have been instantly observed. So I went to my private box
and took out my round bowler hat, which could not lead to detection. I
then got over the hedge into the main road, because to have walked out
of the gate by the lodge would have much decreased my chances of escape.
All went well. The people at the bicycle shop raised no difficulty, and
for five shillings they let me have a machine for two hours—also matches
to light the lamp. It was put into their minds to trust me, and I saw
from the first that Providence was going to help me. The man even
shortened the steps a little as I am unusually stumpy in the legs.
I gave him five shillings and set off. Pursuit would not begin till my
supper was brought by the matron, and I had a clear hour before that
time. Then I knew what would happen; because two terms before, young
Watkinson, who was homesick, had run away and tried to walk from
Merivale, in Devonshire, to Edinburgh, where his grandmother lives; but
he had been taken by Mannering riding that way on his bicycle, two miles
out of Merivale. So I knew that the masters on bicycles and policemen
on foot would soon be after me, and I intended to avoid the main roads
and spend the night in some harmless and wholesome cowhouse on a bed of
sweet meadow hay. Then in the morning I should rise, get a drink of milk
and a little bread-and-butter from some simple and kind-hearted
housewife, and leave the bicycle with her to be returned by train to the
bicycle shop at Merivale. What would happen after that I left entirely
to Providence.
A telescope and a rather fat book are awkward things on a bicycle, and
they bumped me rather heavily, one on each side, as I started. So after
riding a few miles I dismounted, slung the telescope over my back and
buttoned the Skeleton Sermons to my chest. Though not comfortable, they
did not bump, and I went steadily on my way. At a quarter to nine I
lighted my lamp and well knew that Mannering and Chambers had started,
and that many telegrams, including one to my father, had probably been
sent off by Dr. Dunstan from Merivale. For the first time I considered
what view my father would take of my action, and I was bound to feel
that he might not care much about it. My father, though a good father
to me, has never trusted as much in Providence as I could have wished;
which is curious, seeing that he is not only a clergyman but also a
rural dean. He wants me to go into some lucrative business, but I never
will, for I have no feeling for it. My father thinks that money is
everything, and I know well it is not. He said to me once that you can
always tell a gentleman by his neckties and the cigars he smokes. Which
is childish, because many perfect gentlemen never smoke cigars at all.
I got rather depressed after dark—entirely owing to thinking about my
father. I also got strangely hungry and was beginning to wonder whether
I had better try for some supper anywhere, or just leave nature to
settle that. Then a most serious and unforeseen thing happened and the
hind tyre of the bicycle went off with a loud explosion, like a pistol.
I dismounted instantly. I kept my nerve and quietly considered the
situation. For a moment it looked as if Providence was against me, but
I could not be sure of this yet. I wheeled the bicycle to a gate and
sat on the gate and considered. Then, far down the road I had come, I
saw a light and instantly perceived that another bicycle was approaching
at quite twenty miles an hour. To drag my bicycle through the gate into
the field, to shut the gate, extinguish the lamp, and crouch in the
hedge motionless and silent, was the work of an instant. The bicycle
flew past and the man on it grunted with little grunts. It was, in
fact, the well-known grunt of Mannering—a sound he always makes at
footer and hockey. So I saw that Providence was still with me and felt
very much cheered; because, if the lyre had not burst, I should have
been quietly riding along not thinking of Mannering, and he would have
overtaken me and all would have been over.
My resolutions were soon made. I left the main road, which was
evidently now no place for me, and wheeled the bicycle down a lane near
a farm. I felt that it would be necessary to my health to eat something
before sleeping, but cared little what it was, and decided that I would
just take the fruits of the earth—corn or a few turnips, or anything. In
the morning I should mention it to the farmer’s wife and ask her to
change my five-shilling piece. For the change from my ten-shilling
piece, after paying for the bicycle hire, was a five-shilling piece.
I now became conscious of the fact that the bicycle was a hindrance
rather than a help. To leave it behind was, therefore, the work of a
moment. But first I took a leaf out of my pocketbook and wrote on it
these words—
"_Kindly return this bicycle to the shop of Messrs. Jones and Garratt,
bicycle works, Merivale, and all will be well. The hind wheel is
punctured. The finder will probably be rewarded._"
To show, however, that I was not careless for the bicycle, I may say
that I went on till I found a cowshed, so that the machine might be dry
and not suffer from night dew or possible rain. It was not the sort of
cowshed that I meant to sleep in myself, being evidently used purely for
cows, and having no fragrant, clean hay or anything of the kind in it;
but it was good enough for the bicycle; so I left it there and went on my way. |
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