Follow My leader Part 49

"Don't you be too c.o.c.k-sure," cried Gosse, "Georgie's got a neat 'square-fender' on him, and I rather fancy him best myself."

Gosse had not the ghost of a notion what a "square-fender" was; nor had anyone else. But the word carried weight, and there was a run on Georgie accordingly.

Raggles, however, was not to be snuffed out too easily.

"Bah!" shouted he, "what's the use of a 'square-fender,' when d.i.c.k can get down his 'postman's knock' over the top, and blink his man into fits."

After that Georgie was nowhere. A fellow who can "blink" his man with a "postman's knock," no matter what it means, is worth half-a-dozen "square-fenders." And so d.i.c.k became a favourite, and the event was considered as good as settled.

Which was just as well; for our heroes, as they walked in search of Coote, could not be so engrossed either in their newly-healed alliance, or in the affliction of their friend, as to be unaware of the commotion at their heels. And it was not till d.i.c.k had ordered the foremost of the procession to "hook it," enforcing his precept by one or two impartially-distributed samples of his "postman's knock," that it dawned on the Den there was to be no fight after all.

Whereupon they yapped off in disgust, with their noses in the air, in search of some better sport.

Left to themselves, our heroes, with a strange mixture of joy and anxiety in their hearts, broke into a trot, and presently sighted Coote.

That unhappy youth, little dreaming of the revolution which his sc.r.a.pe was destined to effect in Templeton, was still sitting where d.i.c.k had left him, ruefully meditating on his near prospect of incarceration.

The vision of d.i.c.k and Heathcote advancing upon him by no means tended to allay the tumult of his feelings.

"I'm in for it now," groaned he to himself. "They're both going to pitch into me for telling the other. What a mule I was ever to come to Templeton."

But d.i.c.k's first words dispelled these gloomy forebodings effectually.

"Keep your p.e.c.k.e.r up, old man, Georgie and I are both going to back you up. We'll pull you through somehow."

"I've got ten bob," said Georgie. "That's twenty-seven-and-six.

Perhaps he'll let you off the other half-crown."

Considering he had not abstracted the pencil at all, Coote inwardly thought Mr Webster might forego this small balance, and be no loser.

And he half-hinted as much.

"It's an awful shame," said he, "not to believe my word. I really don't see why we ought to stump up at all."

But this proposal by no means suited his ardent backers-up, who looked upon the whole affair as providential, and by no means to be burked.

"Bound to do it," said d.i.c.k decisively. "Things look ugly against you, you know, and it would be a terrible business if you got locked up. It would cost less to square Webster then to bail you out; wouldn't it, Georgie?"

"Rather!" said Georgie. "Besides, it looks awkward if it gets out that you've been to prison.--Our 'Firm' oughtn't to get mixed up in that sort of mess."

After this, Coote resigned all pretensions to the further direction of his own defence, and left his case unreservedly in the hands of his two honest partners.

They decided that very evening, with or without leave, to go down with the twenty-seven-and-six to Mr Webster.

d.i.c.k was the only one of the three who got leave; but his two friends considered the crisis one of such urgency that even without leave they should brave all consequences and accompany him.

Mr Webster was in the act of putting up his shutters when the small careworn procession halted before his door, and requested the favour of an interview.

The bookseller was in a good temper. He had rather enjoyed the day's adventure, and reckoned that the moral effect of his action would be good. Besides, the looks of the culprit and his two friends fully justified his suspicions. They had doubtless come to restore the pencil, and plead for mercy. They should see that mercy was not kept in stock in his shop, and would want some little trouble before it was to be procured.

So he bade his visitors step inside, and state their business.

"We've come about the pencil, you know," said d.i.c.k, adopting a conciliatory tone to begin with. "It's really a mistake, Webster.

Coote never took it."

"No. We've known Coote for years, and never knew him do such a thing,"

said Heathcote.

"And they've turned out every one of my pockets," said Coote, "and there was no sign of it."

Mr Webster smiled serenely.

"Very pretty, young gentlemen; very pretty. When you have done joking, perhaps, you'll give me what belongs to me."

"Hang it!" cried d.i.c.k, forgetting his suavity. "It's no joke, Webster.

I tell you, Coote never took the thing."

"You were here in the shop, of course, and saw him?" said the tradesman.

"No, I wasn't," said d.i.c.k; "you know that as well as I do."

"Coote," said Heathcote, feeling it his turn to back up--"Coote's a gentleman; not a thief."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Mr Webster. "He's sure he's not both?"

"I'm positive," said Coote.

"And is that all you've come to say?" said the bookseller.

"No," said d.i.c.k. "It's an awful shame if you can't believe us. But if you won't--well, we'd sooner pay you for the pencil and have done with it."

Mr Webster was charmed. He had always imagined himself a sharp man and he was sure of it now. For a minute or two the boys' joint protestations of innocence had staggered his belief in Coote's guilt; but this ingenuous offer convinced him he had been right after all.

"Oh, you didn't steal it, but you're going to pay for it, are you? Very pretty! What do you think it was worth?"

"Thirty s.h.i.+llings," said d.i.c.k, "that was the price marked on it."

"And yet you never saw it."

"Of course I didn't," retorted d.i.c.k, beginning to feel hot. "I've told you so twice--Coote saw it."

"Yes," said Coote, "there was a tiny label on it."

"We can't make up quite thirty s.h.i.+llings," said Heathcote; "but we've got twenty-seven s.h.i.+llings and sixpence. I suppose you'll make that do?"

"_Do_ you suppose I'll make it do?" said Mr Webster, beginning to feel hot, too. "You think you can come to my shop, and pilfer my things like so many young pickpockets; and then you have the impudence to come and offer me part of the price to say nothing about it. No, thank you.

That's not my way of doing business."

"There's nothing else we can do," said d.i.c.k.

"Oh, yes, there is. You can march off to the lockup--all three of you if you like; but one of you, anyhow. And so you will, as sure as I stand here."