Follow My leader Part 18

"Ah! you've been putting your hands in my pockets then?"

Whereat there was a mighty cheer, and the Den was called to order to hear the joke, which it did with genuine merriment; and then and there pa.s.sed a resolution unanimously, requesting Mr Gosse once more to comply with Rule 5. That young gentleman got out of it this time by making a public apology, and in no way abashed by the incident, proceeded to attend the treasurers during the remainder of their business circuit. Culver stayed behind, and said to d.i.c.k:--

"Awfully well you shut him up. I say, by the way, I suppose you don't want a knife, do you?"

"Yes, I do. Have you got one?"

"Rather! but I'd sooner have a dog's-head pin instead. I suppose you've not got one."

Considering that d.i.c.k's dog's-head pin, the gift of his particular aunt, was all this time within a few inches of Culver's nose, the inquiry was decidedly artless.

"Yes, I have," said d.i.c.k, pointing to his scarf; "a jolly one, too."

"How'd you like to swop?"

"Let's see the knife," replied the business-like d.i.c.k.

Culver produced the knife. Rather a sorry weapon, as regarded its chief blades. But it had a saw, and a gouge to remove stones from one's boot.

"It's a jolly fine knife," said Culver, seeing that it was already making an impression; "and I'd be sorry to part with it."

d.i.c.k mused on the weapon, and lightly rubbed his chin against his aunt's dog's-head.

"All right," said he, putting the knife into his pocket, and slowly pulling out the pin. His conscience half smote him, as he saw his treasure being transferred to Culver's scarf. But he was too proud to try to revoke his bargain, and consoled himself as best he could by fondling the knife in his pocket, and thinking how useful the gouge would be.

Before the evening was over he made the discovery that "swopping" was a favourite pastime of the leisure hours of the Den. He was startled at one period of the evening to notice Heathcote's steel chain adorning the waistcoat of Gosse, and an hour later to find it in the possession of Raggles, who came over to d.i.c.k with it, and asked casually.

"I suppose you wouldn't care to swop a knife for this?"

d.i.c.k was proof against the temptation. He didn't want a steel chain.

But he wished Culver would be moved to transfer the dog's-head to some one who wanted a knife. That, however, Culver did not do. He seemed, as indeed his experience in business justified him in being, a good judge of a good bargain; and stuck very faithfully to his new pin, in spite of a considerable number of offers.

After joining in a few songs the airs of which were somewhat vague, the Den adjourned. As its proceedings had consisted in an uninterrupted uproar for two consecutive hours, the new boys, none of whom were seasoned to it, were all more or less tired.

Poor young Aspinall, in particular, was very tired. He had had a rough time of it; and had tremblingly complied with every demand any one chose to make of him. He had parted with all his available "swoppable" goods; he had stood on a form and sung little hymns to a derisive audience; he had answered questions as to his mother, his sister, and other members of his family; he had endured buffeting and kicks, till he was fairly worn out, and till it ceased to be amusing to torment him.

When finally he was released, and found himself on his way to the dormitory, under d.i.c.k's sheltering wing, he broke down.

"I wish I was dead," he said, miserably, "it's awful here."

"Don't talk like that," said d.i.c.k, a trifle impatiently, for with all his good heart he got tired of the boy's perpetual tears. "You'll get used to it soon. Haven't you got any pluck in you?"

"It's all very well for you," said the boy; "fellows seem to let you alone, and not care to touch you; but they see I can't stand up for myself."

"More shame if they do," said d.i.c.k bluntly; "I don't believe you when you say so. I call it cant. How do you know? You can't tell till you try."

"Oh, don't be angry, please," said the boy. "I know you are right; I really will try, if you stick up for me."

"Never mind me," said d.i.c.k, getting into bed.

Aspinall did not pursue the topic; but as he lay awake that night, feeling his heart jump at every footstep and word in the room, he made the most desperate and heroic resolves to become a perfect griffin to all Templeton. For all that, he also nearly made up his mind to steal out of bed and peep from the window, to see if there were any possibility of escaping home, while Templeton slept, to Devons.h.i.+re.

The new boys all obeyed the summons of the half-past-six bell next morning with nervous alacrity. For it was something more than a mere call to shake off "dull sloth"--it was a reminder that they were f.a.gs, and that their masters lay in bed depending on them to rouse them in time for morning chapel.

The old f.a.gs smiled to see the feverish haste with which the new ones flung themselves into their garments, and started each on his rousing mission. These veterans had had their day of the same sort of thing.

Now they knew better, and as long as they could continue occasionally to be found by their seniors with a duster in their hands, or toasting a piece of bread before the fire, the "new brooms" could be left to do all the other work, for which the old ones reaped the credit.

Heathcote, with very dismal forebodings, knocked at Pledge's door.

"It's time to get up, please," said he.

"All right. Fetch me some hot water, will you? and brush my lace boots."

Heathcote, as he started off to fetch the water, thought that the voice of his new master was certainly not as repulsive as he had been led by his numerous sympathisers to expect.

"However," said he to himself, "you can't always judge of a fellow by his voice."

Which was very true, as he found immediately afterwards, when, as he was kneeling down at the tap, trying to coax the last few drops of hot water into his can, a voice behind him said--

"Look sharp, you fellow, don't drink it all up," and he looked up and saw d.i.c.k, and d.i.c.k's can, bound on the same errand as his own.

"Hallo," he said, "you won't find much left."

"You'll have to give me some of yours then," said d.i.c.k.

"I can't, I've only got half a can-full as it is."

"But Cresswell sent me, I tell you."

"And Pledge sent me."

"Pooh! He doesn't matter. He's a beast. Come, go halves, old man."

Of course Heathcote went halves, and enquired as he did so whether d.i.c.k had got any boots to clean.

"I've put the young 'un on to that," said d.i.c.k, rather grandly. "I left him crying on them just now."

"How many f.a.gs has Cresswell got?"

"Us two," said d.i.c.k, "at least I've not seen any more."

"I believe I'm the only one Pledge has got."

"Poor beggar! Thanks, Georgie. Get next to me at chapel."

And the two friends went each his own way.

Pledge seemed, on the whole, agreeably surprised to get as much as a quarter of a can of hot water; and Heathcote, as he polished up the lace boots, felt he had begun well. His new master said little or nothing to him, as he put the study tidy, arranged the books, and got out the cup and saucer and coffee-pot ready for the senior's breakfast.