Follow My leader Part 58

"It would be something, though, to get on the list," said Georgie. "It makes a fellow feel so small to be out of it. Think of that howling young Gosse being on!"

"Yes, and Raggles!" said Coote.

"Look here, I say," exclaimed d.i.c.k, suddenly stopping short in his walk, his face lighting up with the brilliancy of the inspiration, "what a.s.ses we are! There's the first Harrier hunt of the season to-morrow. Of course, we'll go and run through!"

Heathcote whistled.

"They sometimes run a twelve-miler," said he.

"Never mind if they run twelve hundred," said d.i.c.k. "We're bound to be in it, I tell you; it's our only chance."

"Birket told me hardly anyone ever runs in it below the Upper Fourth."

"Can't help that," said d.i.c.k, decisively; "there's nothing to prevent us."

"Oh, of course not," said Heathcote, who inwardly reflected that there was nothing to prevent their jumping over the moon if they only could.

"You're game, then?"

"All right," replied the two pliable ones.

"Hurrah! You know, we may not keep close up all the way, but if we can only run it through it's all right. By Jove! I am glad I thought of it, aren't you?"

"Awfully," they said.

Templeton opened its eyes that evening when it saw the "Firm" solemnly go to bed at half-past seven.

It wasn't their usual practice to shorten their days in this manner, and it was evident this early retirement meant something.

Speculation was set at rest next morning when, immediately after morning school, they appeared in their knickerbockers and running shoes and bare s.h.i.+ns.

"Hullo!" said Cresswell, who was the first to encounter them in this trim, "are you youngsters going to have a little run of your own?"

Cresswell was in running costume, too--a model whipper-in--determined to do his part in the long afternoon's work which he had cut out for himself and his Harriers.

"We're going to run in the big hunt," said d.i.c.k, modestly.

"What!" said the senior, laughing; "do you know what the run is?"

"About twelve-miles, isn't it?" said Coote, glad to air his knowledge.

"Yes. I'm afraid it will be hardly worth your while to take such a short trot," said Cresswell, with a grin.

"We're going to try," said d.i.c.k, resolutely. "Who are the hares, Cresswell?"

"Swinstead and Birket; good hares, too. But, I say, youngsters, you'd better not make a.s.ses of yourselves. If you like to come the first mile or two, all right, but take my advice and turn back before you're too far from home."

"We're going to run it through," said d.i.c.k, "if we possibly can."

"We want to get on the Sociables' list," blurted out the confiding Coote; "that's why."

d.i.c.k and Heathcote blushed up guiltily, and rushed their indiscreet chum off before he had time to unbosom himself further.

Cresswell, with the grin still on his honest face, turned into Freckleton's study.

"By Jove! old man," said he, "you'll have a lot to answer for, the rate you're going on. There are three youngsters--my f.a.g d.i.c.k and his two chums--going to run this hunt through, because their names are not on your precious list. They'll kill themselves."

"Hurrah!" cried the Hermit. "I'm delighted--not, of course, about the killing, but I like spirit. I hope they'll scramble through. Mark my word, Cress., those three partners will make their mark in Templeton yet."

"They're likely to make their mark at a coroner's inquest," said Cresswell. "Did _you_ ever run in a twelve-mile hunt?"

"No, thank you," said the Hermit. "Well, I only hope they'll cool down before they go too far, that's all," said the whipper-in. "They don't know what they're in for."

"They're in for the 'Sociables,' and more power to them, say I," said the Hermit. When Cresswell arrived at the meet, he found our heroes the centres of attraction to the crowd who usually a.s.sembled to see the hounds "throw off."

They bore their honours meekly, and affected an indifference they were far from feeling to the chaff and expostulations which showered upon them from all sides.

"All show off!" cried Gosse. "They'll sit down and have a nap under the first hedge, and make believe they ran it through."

"Come, youngsters," said Cartwright, "you've had a jolly little game.

Better go home and put on your trousers, and not try to be funny for too long together."

"Is it true," said someone else, with a significant jerk of his head in the direction of the "Firm," "that the hares are going to make a twenty- mile run of it, instead of twelve?"

"Of course we go through Turner's field, where the mad bulls are?" said another.

Our heroes began to think the delay in starting was getting to be criminal. Everyone had turned up long ago. Whatever was keeping the hunt from beginning?

Ah! there was Cresswell calling up the hares at last. Thank goodness!

Swinstead and Birket, _par n.o.bile fratrum_, were old stagers in the Templeton hunts, and fellows knew, when they buckled on their scent bags and tied their handkerchiefs round their waists, that the Harriers would have their work cut out for them before the day was over.

"All ready?" asked the whipper-in, taking out his watch.

"All serene!"

"Off you go then!"

And off went the hares at a long easy swing, out of the fields and up on to the breezy downs.

"Now then, Harriers, peel!" said the whipper-in, when the hares had disappeared from view, and his watch showed seven minutes to have elapsed.

Our heroes nervously obeyed the order, and confided their outer vesture to Aspinall's custody.

Then steeling their ears and hearts to the final sparks of chaff which greeted the action, they moved forward with the other hounds and waited Cresswell's signal to go.

It seemed ages before those three minutes crawled out. But at last the whipper-in put his watch back, and blew a blast on his bugle.