The Hero of Garside School Part 36

"I may as well put you on your guard, Percival," he said, on the day following Newall's declaration against Paul. "You've put up the backs of all the Form, and a lot of fellows outside it. They're going for you.

They mean driving you from Garside."

"I thought something was on foot. Thanks for telling me."

"Oh, you'd have soon found out, you know, without my telling you. But you needn't give me away. I only just mention it so that you may know what's in the wind. Don't worry. It's not worth it."

With this characteristic piece of advice Waterman left him.

"Trying to drive me from the school," Paul repeated to himself. "Well, they may try, and beat me in the long run, but they won't find it easy.

'Be ye stedfast, unmovable.' By G.o.d's help I'll try to be true to the school motto."

Having come to that determination, Paul set his teeth hard, and put his back to the wall. And so, though scarcely a day pa.s.sed without bringing some fresh insult or tyranny, he still held firm to the position he had taken up--to the resolve he had made with himself and his G.o.d. It must be admitted, however, that the cup was sometimes very near to overflowing.

His lot might have been easier to bear had he received some answer to the letter he had written to Mr. Moncrief; but as day followed day without any response, it seemed to him that Mr. Moncrief disdained writing to him, or did not think his letter worth answering. He came to the conclusion that Stanley must have written to his uncle, telling him what had happened at the sand-pit, and the feeling against Paul at the school, and so had poisoned his mind against him.

Once or twice Paul thought of writing to the one friend who never failed him--his mother--and unburdening his breast to her; but the thought only came to him to be dismissed. It would only make her miserable. She had suffered enough in the past without being worried with his petty troubles at school. So he determined to stand alone--to fight out the battle by himself.

Things were at this pa.s.s when an event happened which caused some stir at Garside.

About a mile from the school ran the river. Its course lay in picturesque variety through peaceful pastoral country, cornfields, and orchards. One part of it was spanned by an old wooden bridge. This bridge had become so dilapidated by time and wear that the county justices had decided that it was dangerous for traffic. So to prevent the possibility of an accident, it was decided to pull it down, and replace it with a new one.

Accordingly, the bridge was pulled down, and a new one begun. To aid in this task, a raft was used by the workmen in crossing the river.

Now Plunger and his companions in the Third Form were deeply interested in the work that was going on at the river, but what interested Plunger most of all was the raft. It seemed to him that he would like to live upon that raft. What could be more delightful than gliding up and down the stream on it for ever. Then he thought of the many adventures that had happened on rafts--of the many s.h.i.+pwrecked pa.s.sengers that had been saved on them.

"Wish I had one of my own," he remarked to Harry, as the two stood watching the men crossing the stream one half-holiday. "Wouldn't it be jolly fun?"

"Very," answered Harry, who, fired by Plunger's enthusiasm, began to share his longing.

It should be mentioned that Plunger's att.i.tude towards Harry had changed since the night when Newall had been feathered in mistake for Baldry.

To use the phrase of the Third--"Moncrief minor had scored," and Plunger never respected anybody till they had succeeded in scoring over him--in other words, beaten him at his own game. Since then he had begun to tolerate Harry, and receive him on something like a footing of equality.

"Those fellows," went on Plunger, nodding his head in the direction of the workmen on the raft, "are so beastly selfish."

"How, Freddy?"

"Well, I tried to get on that raft when it was lying idle the other day; but they commenced shouting at me like mad. I wasn't doing any harm."

"Of course not."

"If they'd been using it, it'd have been a different thing; but they weren't. So why couldn't they have let me cross the river on it--eh?"

"I don't see why. They ought to have been glad to. They didn't know the honour they were losing. Now, if you'd only have told 'em who you were----"

"Shut up!" cried Plunger, pinching Harry's arm. "But, I say, couldn't we just have some lovely games, if we only had a raft like that?"

"Lovely," a.s.sented Harry.

Here was silence between them for some moments, as they watched the raft and the men upon it with envious eyes.

"Duffers!" exclaimed Plunger, at length giving expression to his feelings.

"Don't take on so, Freddy."

"Can't help it--duffers!" repeated Plunger, with still greater emphasis.

Silence again, broken by Harry.

"Would you really like to go on that raft, Freddy!"

"Stow poking fun."

"I'm not poking fun, I'm quite serious. Seems to me that if we really wanted to go on that raft, and really made up our minds to it, we ought to be able to manage it."

"How?" came the eager question.

"Easy enough if we go the right way, and don't make a mess of it, like Newall did that night when he walked into the Forum."

"We're not talking about the Forum," said Plunger quickly, giving Harry another pinch. "We're talking about rafts--that raft," pointing to the one on the river.

"And it's that raft I'm talking about. Have you ever noticed what happens on a Sat.u.r.day?"

"Many things happen on a Sat.u.r.day; but what is the one thing that happens in particular?"

"The workmen on the bridge leave off exactly as the clock strikes twelve--a little bit sooner if they can manage it. Never later."

"Oh, yes; they're very punctual at leaving off. But what's that to do with the raft?"

"A good deal. They always leave the raft tied up under the bridge. What would be easier than to untie it, and there you are."

"Harry, you're a genius--a reg'lar genius!" cried Plunger, bringing his hand down on Harry's back. "It never sprouted out like that when you were at Gaffer Quelch's. It's come on since you've been at Garside. I must have helped it."

Plunger had undoubtedly helped in the development of what he was pleased to term Harry's "genius," but whether altogether to the advantage of Harry time alone could show.

"You helped it, Freddy! The only help you give is helping Number One.

You ought to have belonged to the help-myself society. You'd have been just the fellow for the president."

Plunger kicked Harry, and Harry returned the compliment; then their eyes went to the river again, and the raft, which was just getting under way again to cross to the other side.

"Those duffers don't know how to use a raft," said Harry contemptuously, after he had been watching the workmen for some moments.

"Of course they don't. That's the worst of being landlubbers. Wish we could only take them in hand and show them."

"One of 'em ought to be wearing a suit of goatskins and things of that sort, with a great cap on his head, with the hair on the outside to shoot off the rain if it came on," said Harry thoughtfully.

"Like Robinson Crusoe, you mean?"