The Cock-House at Fellsgarth Part 7

"Howl away!" said D'Arcy, nudging his _protege_. Whereupon Ashby held on to a desk and howled till the windows shook.

"That'll do," shouted D'Arcy in his ear after a moment or two, and Ashby, thankful for the relief, shut off steam and awaited his next orders.

Clapperton was a big, smirking fellow, rather loudly dressed, with a persuasive voice and what was intended to be a condescending manner.

Some fellows could never make out why Clapperton did not go down in Fellsgarth. He tried to be civil, he was lavish with his pocket-money, and always disclaimed any desire to quarrel with anybody. And yet no one oared for him, while of course the out-and-out champions of the rival side hated him. He seconded with pleasure the motion of "his friend Yorke,"--("Cheek!" exclaimed D'Arcy, _sotto voce_; "what business has he to call our captain his friend!") This was the old rule of Fellsgarth, and a very good rule. It meant hard work, but he was always glad to do what he could for the old School. (It always riled the Cla.s.sics to hear a Modern talking about "the old School," and their backs went up at this.) He had been on this committee two years now, and had had the pleasure in a humble way of helping the clubs through one or two of their financial difficulties, and he should be glad to serve again. He seconded the motion.

It was a trial to one or two who had listened to see that the names were being put to the vote by Yorke _en bloc_, without giving them the chance of voting against anybody. Never mind, their chance for that would come!

The next business was the election of captain of the clubs; and of course Yorke was chosen by acclamation. No one dared oppose him. Even "his friend Clapperton," who had the pleasure of proposing him, was sure every one would be as glad as he would to see "his fellow-captain" (oh, how the Cla.s.sics squirmed and ground their teeth at the expression!) at the head of the clubs.

The pent-up feelings of D'Arcy and those of his way of thinking found some relief in the demonstration which accompanied the carrying of this resolution. It was too good a chance to be lost, and for three minutes by the clock the Cla.s.sics stood on their feet and cheered their champion, glaring defiantly as they did so at the Moderns, who having held up their hands and cheered a little, relapsed into silence and left the noise in the hands of the other side.

Then followed the election of vice-captain, which of course had to go to Clapperton. This time the Moderns had their demonstration amid the silence of the Cla.s.sics, who thought they had never in their lives seen fellows make such a.s.ses of themselves.

It was twenty minutes past the hour, and D'Arcy and Ashby were both getting uncomfortable and impatient. What did these Modern idiots want to waste the time of everybody by standing there and bellowing! It was scandalous.

"Shut up--go on to the next vote," they cried, but in vain. The Moderns were going to have their full share, if not a little more, of the row, and to stop them before their time was hopeless.

"Disgusting exhibition, isn't it?" said D'Arcy; "never mind. Hullo, I say, there's some one at the door. It's those chaps!"

No, it was only Fisher minor, who, having waited meekly all this time outside the deserted gymnasium, now ventured, like a degenerate Casabianca, to desert his post and come and see what was going forward in the Hall.

As he tried to enter, a Modern boy, seeing by his ribbon that he was on the wrong side, put his foot against the door and tried to turn him back. But his little plot dismally failed. For D'Arcy and Ashby, shocked and horrified witnesses of this scandalous act of corruption, came to the rescue with a hubbub which even made itself heard above the shouting.

"Let him in!--howling cheat!--he's trying to shut out one of our side!

Ya-boo! That's the way you elect your men, is it! Come in, Fisher minor. Let him in, do you hear? All right; come on, you fellows, and kick this Modern chap out for a wretched sneak--(that'll be seven off their side, counting Wheatfield; and one more to us--bully!) Yah, cheats! turn 'em out!"

Amid such cries of virtuous indignation, Fisher minor was hauled in, and his obstructor, by the same _coup de main_, excluded. Fisher minor might have had his head turned by this triumphal entry, had he not recognised in the ejected Modern boy the gentleman to whom he had lent his half-crown on the previous evening. Any reminder of yesterday's misfortunes was depressing to him, and his joy at finding himself on the right side of the door now was decidedly damped by the knowledge that his half-crown was on the wrong. However, there was no time for explanations, as the shouting had ceased, and an evidently important event was about to take place. This was the appointment of treasurer, for whom each of the rival sides had a candidate; that of the Cla.s.sics being Fisher major, and that of the Moderns Brinkman of Forder's house, a particular enemy of the other side, and reputed to be rich and no gentlemen.

Both candidates were briefly proposed and seconded by boys of their own side, and both having declared their intention of going to the vote, a show of hands was demanded.

The excitement of our young friends at the end of the Hall while this tedious operation was in progress may well be imagined. The captain had sternly ordained silence during the voting; so that all they could do was to hold up their hands to the very top of their reach, and keep a wild look-out that they were being counted, and that none of the enemy was in any way, moral or physical, circ.u.mventing them. As for Fisher minor, he simply trembled with excitement as he cast his eyes round and calculated his brother's chances. He could not comprehend how any one could dare not to vote for Fisher major; and absorbed in that wonder he continued to hold up his hand long after the two tellers had agreed their figure, and the captain had ordered "hands down."

"Fisher major, one hundred and twenty-seven votes; now, hands up for Brinkman."

"Whew!" said D'Arcy, fanning himself with his handkerchief; "it'll be a close shave. I say, we'd better lean up hard against the door. It'll keep out the draughts."

"They've got it, I'm afraid," said Ashby, looking round at the forest of hands; "we hadn't as many as that."

"I say, that cad Brinkman is voting for himself," said some one.

"What a shame! My brother didn't. He's too honourable," said Fisher minor.

"Hullo! `How now'--you there?" cried Wally.

Whereupon, amid great laughter, Fisher minor retired modestly behind the rest.

The counting seemed interminable, and every moment, to the guilty ears of Ashby, there seemed to be a sound of footsteps without. At last, however, the cry, "hands down," came once more, and you might have heard a pin drop.

"Fisher major, one hundred and twenty-seven votes; Brinkman, one hundred and twenty-two. Fisher is elected."

Amid the terrific Cla.s.sic cheers which greeted this announcement, D'Arcy and Ashby exchanged glances.

Those five voters, waiting patiently in Wally's room for the clock to strike the half-hour, would have turned the scale!

Ashby wished the majority had been greater or less. But he tried to be jubilant, and in response to D'Arcy's thumps on the back yelled and roared till he was black in the face.

As he did so, he caught sight through the window of a small procession of five or six boys emerging from the door of Wakefield's house and starting at a trot in the direction of Hall.

"I say," shouted he in D'Arcy's ear, "here they come!"

D'Arcy abruptly ceased shouting and descended from his form.

"Come and squash up near the front," said he, hurriedly; "more room, you know, up there."

"Hoo, hoo! nearly licked that time," shouted a Modern youth near the door, as they moved forward. "Served you right!"

"Never mind, we'll take it out of you, next vote," retorted D'Arcy.

"Come on, kid; squash up." Then a happy thought struck him. The boys immediately near the door were mostly Moderns. What a fine bit of electioneering, if he could get them to shut out their own men! So he shouted, "Look out, our side! Mind they don't keep out any of our chaps. Just the sort of dodge they'd be up to."

Whereupon the Moderns set their backs determinedly against the door and wagged their heads at one another, and were obliged to D'Arcy for the tip.

"That'll do for 'em," said that delighted schemer; "they won't let 'em in, you bet. Look out--they're going to vote for secretary now."

The Cla.s.sical side candidate for this important office was Ranger, almost as great an idol in his house as the captain himself. His Modern opponent was Dangle, a clever senior, reputed to be Clapperton's toady and man-of-all-work. It was felt that if he were secretary, there would be a strong Modern bias given to the clubs, which in the opinion of the Cla.s.sic partisans would be disastrous.

The show of hands had been taken for Ranger, and every one was silent to hear the figures, when a hideous clamour arose at the door, with shouts of--

"Open the door I let us in. Cheats! Fair play!"

To D'Arcy's satisfaction, as from the safe shelter of a front place he peered down that way, the Moderns held their post at the door and refused to let it open. For a minute it looked as if they would succeed; when suddenly the irate Wally appeared on the scene, followed by Fisher minor, and shouting, "Cheats! cads! Let our fellows in!" went for the obstructionists.

"Stupid a.s.s!" growled D'Arcy. "It's all up now. Why couldn't he have let them be?"

A short and sharp _melee_ followed. The Cla.s.sics were reinforced rapidly, and the Moderns, seeing their plot detected and fearing the intervention of the seniors, sullenly raised the blockade, and allowed the door to open.

Whereat in tumbled Percy Wheatfield with five young Moderns at his heels--the very five who had been waiting for the clock to strike in Wally's study.

"What do you mean by keeping us out!" demanded Percy of his brother, who chanced to be the first person he encountered.

"What are you talking about?" retorted Wally, extremely chagrined to discover who it was he had been helping. "We were the chaps who let you in! It was your own cads who were keeping you out. Ask them."

"We thought you were Cla.s.sics," said one of the offenders, letting the cat out of the bag.

"Oh, you beauty! Wait till I get some of you outside," bellowed the outraged Percy.

"Order! Shut up, you kids down there!" was the cry from the front.

"Shut up, you kids down there!" echoed D'Arcy and Ashby on their own account.