Parkhurst Boys Part 33

1:30.--No go. Been howling like a hyena for half an hour till I've no voice left, and I'm all over spots of wax with the waving of my candle.

Heard nothing but my own voice. Not an echo, or a dog barking, or anything. The mist lifted a bit, but I don't suppose any one could see the candle down at Wastdale. Ugh! ugh! Perhaps there'll be an article in a scientific paper about a curious phenomenon on the top of Scafell Pike. Wish I knew how to warm phenomenons! I've put on the spare s.h.i.+rt over my coat, and stuffed my feet into my knapsack, and wrapped last Friday's _Daily News_ round my body and legs. Oh-h-h! why _did_ I make a beast of myself to those two dear Cambridge fellows? Think of them now, with blankets tucked round their chins, and their noses in the pillow, snoring away; and their coats and bags lying idle about in the room. I do believe if I had their two suits on over my own I might keep warm. Hullo, what's that!

Never got such a fright. Thought it was thunder, or an earthquake, or the cairn coming down on the top of me, or something of that sort.

Turned out to be the _Daily News_ crackling under my clothes.

Everything's so quiet, it startles one to move a foot. I'll give it up--I'll--there goes my last candle!

3:30.--Actually been asleep--at least, I don't know what's been going on the last two hours. That _Daily News_ was rather a tip, after all. I might have been frozen to death without it. Hurrah for the Radicals!

Rather crampy all the same about the joints, and must get up and shake myself, or I shall be no good for the rest of the day. Ugh! What a state my mother would be in if she heard that cough! I'm certain I hadn't caught it before I went to sleep.

Just been up to the top and had a look round. Mist is nearly all away, and there are some streaks in the sky that look like the beginning of morning. May hold out, after all. Never know what you can do till you try. I'll just put on my _Daily News_ again and wait here another half- hour, and then try out again. Wish it was daylight. Mustn't go to sleep again if I can help it, as I might catch cold.

4:30.--Hurrah! Just seen the sun rise! No end of a fine show. Long bit of poetry about it in the guide-book, cribbed from Wordsworth or somebody. Can't say the page, as I tore out the leaf last night to put inside my boot, to help to keep my toes warm. Never expected to see the sun rise from the highest spot in England. Awful good score for me, though--very few do it, I fancy. Think of those lazy Cambridge fellows curled up in bed and missing it all; just the way with these fellows, all show off.

The sun's warm already, and I've left off my _Daily News_ and spare s.h.i.+rt, and I'm just going to take the paper out of my boots; that is, if I can ever get down to my toes--but I'm so jolly stiff.

Never mind, I've done it, and--bother that cough, it's made me break the point of my pencil.

5 a.m.--Been sharpening the pencil with my teeth. Rather a poor breakfast; never mind, I shall have a rousing appet.i.te when I get to the bottom. May tip that waiter possibly, if he brings the grub up sharp.

Now I'm starting down. I shall go down to Dungeon Ghyl the way I came, I fancy. If I went down to Wastdale, I might meet those Cambridge fellows again, and I wouldn't care for that. It would mortify them too much to know what they've missed. Ta! ta! Scafell Pike, old man, keep yourself warm. I'll leave you my _Daily News_, in case you want it.

8 a.m.--Been all this time getting half-way down. Can scarcely crawl.

Going up hill's nothing, but the b.u.mping you get coming down, when you're as stiff as a poker, and coughing like an old horse, is a caution. Had a good mind to ask a shepherd I met half an hour ago to give me a leg down, but didn't like to; so I told him I'd just been to the top to see the sunrise, and it was a fine morning. All but added, "I suppose you haven't got a crust of bread in your pocket?" but pulled up in time. Pity to spoil my appet.i.te for breakfast at Dungeon Ghyl.

Ugh! if I sit here I shall rust up, and not be able to move. _Must_ go on.

10 a.m.--Top of Rosset Ghyl. Not very swell time to get from the top of the Pike here in five hours. All a chance whether I get down at all, now--I'm about finished up. Wish those Cambridge fellows--

Here the diary ends abruptly; but, in case our readers are curious to know the end of our hero's adventure, they will be interested to learn that at the identical moment when the writer reached this point in his diary, the Cambridge fellows _did_ turn up. They had, indeed, been out searching the hills from very early morning for the wanderer. As he did not arrive the night before at Wastdale, they had concluded he had given up the ascent, and returned to Dungeon Ghyl. But when early that morning a guide had come over from Dungeon Ghyl, and reported that the young gentleman had certainly not returned there, the two 'Varsity men became alarmed, and turned out to search. There was no sign of him on the Wastdale side of the mountain; and, getting more and more alarmed, they went on to the summit. There they discovered a crushed-up _Daily News_ and two or three stained pages of a guide-book. Glad of any clue, they followed the track down towards Dungeon Ghyl, and at last came upon the poor fellow, fairly exhausted with hunger, fatigue, and rheumatism.

They gave him what partially revived him, and then with the care and tenderness of two big brothers carried him down the steep side of Rosset Ghyl, and so on to the hotel. There they kept him under their special care, day and night, and never left him till he was well enough to return home to his anxious family.

Since then Bartholomew b.u.mpus has made several ascents of Scafell Pike, but he has never again, I believe, stayed up there all night to see the sunrise. Nor has he, when he could possibly help it, gone up unaccompanied by at least one Cambridge fellow.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

VERY MUCH ABROAD.

_Being the impressions of foreign travel, communicated chiefly to a particular friend by Thomas Hooker, minor, of Rugby, during the course of a Continental tour in France and Switzerland in the company of his brother, James Hooker, major, also of Rugby_.

London, _July_ 31.

Dear Gus,--Here's a spree! The pater's got an idea into his head that young fellows ought to see something of foreign parts, and store their minds with the beauties of Nature in her grandest--I forget what-- anyhow, we backed him up; and Jim and I are to start abroad on our own hooks on Friday. How's that for luck? The pater has settled what hotels we go to in Paris and Switzerland, and he's sketched out a route for us every day we're away. The grind is, he's awfully particular we should write home every day and keep accounts. Jim will have to do that, and I'll keep you up. It really is a very good thing for fellows to travel and expand their minds, you know. We're starting from Holborn Viaduct at 9:30 on Friday. I'll write and let you know my impressions, as the pater calls it; and you might let your young sister see them too, if you like.

Yours truly, T. Hooker.

Paris, _August_ 3.

Dear Gus,--We had an awful squeak for the train at Holborn, owing to Jim's hatbox falling off the cab and his insisting on going back to pick it up. It seems to me rather humbug taking chimneys at all, but he says that's all I know of foreign travel; so I caved in and brought mine too.

Another thing that nearly lost the train was a row about the luggage.

The fellows wanted to do me out of two bob because they said my portmanteau was four pounds overweight! There was nearly a s.h.i.+ndy, I can tell you, only Jim said we'd better walk into the chap on our way back. Anyhow, I wasn't going to be done, so I unlocked my portmanteau and took out my spare jacket and a pair of bags, and carried them over my arm, and that made the weight all right. The fellows tried to grin, of course, but I fancy they were rather blue about it.

Our tickets cost 45 s.h.i.+llings 6 pence each, not counting grub on the way, which about finished up a 5 note for the two of us.

Jim and I had a stunning time in the train. There was only one other old chap in the carriage. When the fellow came for the tickets outside Dover, Jim happened to be up on the luggage rack, and the fellow would never have spotted him if the rack hadn't given way. Then he got crusty, and we all but got left behind by the steamer.

Beastly tubs those steamers are! I wonder why they don't make some that go steady. And they ought to make the seats facing the side of the vessel, and not with your back to it. You miss such a lot of the view.

I sat with my face to the side of the vessel most of the way. I don't exactly know what became of Jim. He said afterwards he'd been astern watching the English coast disappear. I suppose that accounted for his looking so jolly blue. We weren't sorry to clear out of that boat, I can tell you.

Jim was first up the gangway, and I was third, owing to dropping my spare bags half-way up and having to pick them up. There was an awfully civil French fellow at the top of the gangway, who touched his hat to me. I couldn't make out what he said, but I fancied he must be asking for a tip, so I gave him a copper. That seemed to make him awfully wild, and he wanted to know my name. I had to tell him, and he wrote it down; but as he didn't get my address, I hope there won't be a fuss about it. I didn't see any harm in tipping him, but I suppose it's against French law, and I don't mean to do it any more.

There was an awfully rum lot of chaps in our carriage between Calais and Paris. You'd have thought they had never seen a pair of bags before in their life; for they stared at mine all the way from Calais to Amiens, where we got out for refreshment. I thought it best to take my bags with me to the buffet, as they might have humbugged about with them if I'd left them in the carriage.

They ought to make English compulsory in French schools. The duffers in the buffet didn't even know what a dough-nut was! Not even when Jim looked it up in the dixy and asked for _noix a pate_. The idiot asked us if we meant "rosbif," or "biftik," or "palal"--that's all the English they seemed to know, and think English fellows feed off nothing else.

However, we did get some grub, and paid for it too. When we got back to the carriage I took the precaution of sticking my bags on the rack above Jim's head; so all the fellows stared at him the rest of the way, and I got a stunning sleep.

We had an awful doing, as Bunker would call it--by the way, did he pull off his tennis match against Turner on breaking-up day?--when we got to Paris. The row at Holborn was a fool to it. Just fancy, they made Jim and me open both our portmanteaux and hat-boxes before they would let us leave the station! I can tell you, old man, I'm scarcely cool yet after that disturbance, and if it hadn't been for Jim I guess they'd have found out how a "Rug" can kick out! Jim says it's the regular thing, and they collar all the cigars they can find. All I can say is, it's robbery and cool cheek, and I wish you or some of the fellows would write to the _Times_ or the _Boy's Own Paper_ and get it stopped. We had to turn every blessed thing out on the counter, and pack up again afterwards. It's a marvel to me how the mater stowed all the things away. I couldn't get half of them back, and had to shove the rest into my rug and tie it up at the corners like a washerwoman's bundle. Jim's too easy-going by half. I'm certain, if he'd backed me up, we could have hacked over the lot of them; and I shouldn't have lost that spare pair of bags, which I forgot all about in the s.h.i.+ndy. I hope there'll be a war with France soon. We were jolly f.a.gged when we got to the inn, I can tell you. The old woman had got the pater's letter, so she expected us. She's rather an a.s.s, and must have been getting up her English for our benefit, for she's called us "nice young Englese gentilman" about a hundred times already.

I don't think Jim's got over the blues he had watching the English coast yesterday. He's asleep still, so I'm writing this while I'm waiting for him to come to breakfast. I shall not wait much longer, I can tell you.

Ta-ta! Remember me to any of the old crowd you see; also to your young sister.

Yours truly, Thomas Hooker.

P.S.--By the way, see what your French dixy says for doughnut, and let me know by return. We're going on to Switzerland in a day or two.

Paris, _August_ 6.

Dear Gus,--The dictionary word of yours won't wash here. We've tried it all round Paris, and you might as well talk Greek to them. I don't believe there's any word in the language for dough-nut. Jim's not bad at French, either. We should be regularly floored if it wasn't for him.

And I expect they guess by his accent he comes from Rugby, for fellows all touch their hats to him.

You know the pater gave us a list of places to go and see in Paris--the Louvre and the Luxembourg, and all that. Well, he never stuck down where they were, and we've had to worry it out for ourselves. Jim stopped a fellow this morning and asked him, "Ou est la chemin pour Luxembourg?" The fellow took off his hat and was awfully civil, and said, "Par ici, messieurs," and took us a walk of about three miles, and landed us at a railway station. He thought we wanted to go to Luxembourg in Germany, or wherever it is--fare about three cool sovs.

The fellow hung about us most of the rest of the day, expecting a tip.

Likely idea that, after the game he'd had with us! We couldn't shake him off till we bolted into one of the swimming baths on the river.

That smoked him out. Most of these chaps draw the line at a tub. Would you believe it? at our inn, they never seem to have heard of soap in their lives, and we got quite tired of saying "savon" before we found some in a shop. Jim thinks they use it all up for soup. What we get at the inn tastes like it.

Jim is rather a cute beggar. We went to a cafe yesterday to get some grub, and he wanted a gla.s.s of milk. We had both clean forgotten the French for milk, and we'd left the dixy at the inn. We tried to make the fellow understand, but he was an a.s.s. We pointed to a picture of a cow hanging on the wall and smacked our lips; and he grinned and rubbed his hands, and said, "Ah, oui. Rosbif! jolly rosbif!" Did you ever hear of such a born idiot? At last Jim had an idea and said, "Apportez- nous du cafe-au-lait sans le cafe." That fetched it. The fellow twigged at once. Not bad of Jim, was it?

Jolly slow place Paris. The swimming baths are the only place worth going to. Jim went in off the eight-foot springboard. You should have seen the natives sit up at the neat dive he made.

I hope the pater's not going to ask too much about the Louvre, because we scamped it. The fact is, there was a little unpleasantness with one of the fellows, owing to Jim's cane happening to scratch one of the pictures by a chap named Rubens. It was quite an accident, as we were only trying to spike a wasp on the frame, and Jim missed his shot. The fellow there made a mule of himself, and lost his temper. So we didn't see the fun of staying, and cut.

Montreux, Lake of Geneva, _August_ 10.

Couldn't finish this before we left Paris. We meant to start for here on Friday, but settled to come on on Thursday night after all. You needn't go telling them at home, but between you and me it was a bit of a bolt.

The fact was, we went to a church called Notre Dame in the morning--not nearly such a snug place as Rugby Chapel, and they charge a penny apiece for the chairs. So we cut the inside and thought we'd go up to the top.

It wasn't a bad lark, and you get a stunning view. The swimming baths looked about the size of a sheet of school paper. There was a door open into the belfry, and as n.o.body was about, we never thought it would be any harm to have a ring up. We couldn't get the big bell to go, but most of the others did, and it was enough to deafen you.