The Cock-House at Fellsgarth - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel The Cock-House at Fellsgarth Part 62 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
The final goal was Clapperton's. It was an historic event. For the first time in the match the Penchurch men had worked the ball up into the boys' quarters, and fears were being entertained lest, after all, they would save their "duck." The half-backs and quarter-backs of the School were squeezed in, all of a lump, between touch and goal; and those who looked on noticed with alarm that, as matters now stood, an easy drop-kick from any of the enemy's forwards might capture the goal.
Rollitt was the first to put an end to this dangerous state of things.
He bore down the scrimmage after his usual fas.h.i.+on, and succeeded, as he broke through, in getting the ball into his hands. But for once he could get no further. Twenty hands seized him and carried him to the ground, but not before he had sent back the ball into Fisher's hands.
"Back up now--hard and fast!" cried Yorke.
Never was order more beautifully carried out, Fisher minor held the leather long enough to pa.s.s it to Brinkman. Brinkman staggered on a yard or two and slipped it back to Denton. Denton made a yard or two more and pa.s.sed it to Corder. Corder fell back with it into the arms of Ranger. Ranger let Corder drop, but captured the ball, and with one of his lightning swoops carried it out of the ruck for twenty yards, when, as he fell, Yorke came up and captured it. Yorke, alas, was cut short in his career before he had gone ten yards, but Clapperton was there to take it. Away he went, shaking off the nearest of his a.s.sailants and distancing others, till he too fell gloriously, with his body in play, and his hands in touch, thirty yards from the enemy's lines. The serried ranks formed up on either side. Clapperton, as he stood, ball in hand, ready to throw in, pa.s.sed his eye along the line of his friends, and stopped short of Yorke. Yorke understood. He caught the ball, and quick as thought, returned it to Clapperton, who, swooping round behind the line, got clear with it once more, and crossing the field, curving in all the way, carried into the enemy's lines at their far corner, whence with a wide sweep he brought it round right behind their posts, a beautiful climax to a beautiful piece of co-operative play.
As Mr Stratton said, nothing all that term had been more hopeful of the new spirit of mutual confidence and support in the School than this triumphant rally.
But the goal was yet to be kicked. To Yorke, of course, belonged the honour.
But Yorke, to every one's surprise, stood out.
"No," said he. "It's Clapperton's goal; he shall kick it."
So Fellsgarth, perhaps for the first and only time in its records, stood by and witnessed the phenomenon of its captain carrying out the ball and placing it for the vice-captain to kick.
It needed all Clapperton's nerve to save him from flurry and failure even over an easy task like this. But he pulled himself together and kicked the goal.
And with that kick he sent flying into the air the last remnant of the bad blood and jealousy which had marred the term and all but wrecked the good old School.
Here let us say good-bye--perhaps not for good. For Yorke and Rollitt, and Clapperton and Fisher, and all of them, are still alive and kicking.
Rollitt, to the general regret, but to his own satisfaction, left Fellsgarth at the end of the term for the more congenial course of a school of engineering. Before he left he invited Fisher minor to tea in his room, and alarmed that young gentleman by sitting for a whole hour without uttering a word. At length, when the guest had to leave, he said--
"Thanks, Fisher minor. Thank those fellows of yours. Tell Yorke the money that bought the boat was what I had been saving for something else. I'll write to you. Get out, now."
That was the last of Rollitt.
Dangle never made up his mind either to apologise or take a thras.h.i.+ng.
He never met Rollitt after the return of the latter. When breaking-up day came, he got an excuse to go home earlier than the general crowd; and when School rea.s.sembled in January it was known he had left Fellsgarth for good.
The two events of the breaking-up "Hall" were--first the announcement by the doctor that, at his request, Yorke would stay on another term at Fellsgarth; secondly, the presentation of a purse containing five pounds to the School clubs by the nine juniors, as the profits for the term on the business of the School shop.
Which of these two events produced the more terrific cheers the reader must take upon himself to decide.
An hour later, Messrs. Wally, D'Arcy, Ashby, Fisher minor, Percy, Cottle, Lickford, Ramshaw, and Cash, limited, walked arm in arm across the Green, after a farewell call on Mrs Stratton, on their way to the School omnibus, which waited at the Watch-Tower. Their progress was temporarily interrupted by the sudden bolt of Fisher minor in pursuit of a lank, cadaverous figure, wearing the Modern colours, who was strolling innocently off in the direction of Mr Forder's house.
"The young un's got 'em again," said Wally. "Here, come back, young Fisher minor, can't you? We shan't wait."
Fisher minor pulled up. He looked wistfully first at the retreating figure in the distance, then at his eight friends. With a sigh he decided on the latter; and for that term, at least, finally abandoned the quest of his unlucky half-crown.
It took some little time to arrange matters on the omnibus, as one or two innocent middle-boys had had the audacity to occupy the box-seat and the row behind, and had to be cajoled or pulled down. How could any one dare, when those two seats just held nine, to imagine that they were not sacred property?
"That's better," said Wally, when at last the party were safely up, with two rugs over their eighteen knees, and a gross of brandy-b.a.l.l.s circulating for the common comfort. "Touch 'em up, driver. Give 'em their heads! I tell you what, you chaps, this has been rather a slow half. I vote we have some larks next term."
"Rather!" chimed in the chorus.
THE END.