Chatterbox, 1906 Part 58

The following morning when the upper school began its lunch interval, the lower was being drilled in the 'quad,' round three sides of which ran the school buildings. On the fourth was an iron railing with the big school-gates in the middle, and at one of the windows appeared Baker and Paynton as soon as the bell rang. At the next window Mr. Wilson's back was visible as he wrote at his study table.

'Right, left; right, left!' drilled the sergeant, and the small boys marked time steadily. But his instructions were suddenly cut short, for something charged through the gates behind him and stretched the unfortunate man flat on his back. By the time he had raised himself again to a sitting posture and had begun to wonder what could have happened, he found that the orderly lines had disappeared, and that the whole of the lower school, headed by a rough-looking farm-boy with a piece of broken rope in his hand, was engaged in chasing the most wily and cunning black pig that ever made his escape. He dodged and doubled turned and twisted, charged down the small boys and avoided the large ones, till the whole 'quad' resounded with cries of 'Catch on to his tail!' 'Don't let him pa.s.s you!' 'There he goes!' and the windows began to fill with interested spectators. At last Mr. Wilson himself threw open his own window to see what was happening.

A few minutes later Baker and Paynton sauntered into the 'quad' and joined in the chase, which was ended, eventually by the pig being driven into a corner, so as to allow the farm-boy to refasten the rope.

By that time Mr. Wilson had also descended, and was inquiring sternly into the meaning of the pig's presence in his school-yard.

'Well, it's this way,' drawled the boy stolidly, 'it's no use trying to keep this pig shut up, and a pig that isn't shut up puts on no fat, so Farmer Jones says to me on Monday, "Bill, that pig's no good; take him into market on Thursday and see what you can get for him," and just as he was pa.s.sing your gate he broke his rope and in he bolted.'

'Well, another time see that he breaks his rope somewhere else,' said the Head Master.

'He won't have another chance of breaking ropes with me,' said the boy as he touched his hat and turned away. Then he caught sight of Baker on the outskirts of the crowd.

'Oh, there you be, Master Baker,' he said with a grin;' if so be as you could give me that sixpence now it would save me another walk into town.'

'Why does Master Baker owe you sixpence?' inquired Mr. Wilson with interest.

'Oh! he lives next door to Jones's, he does, and he says to me yesterday when we was talking together, "Bill, if you do a job for me, I'll give you sixpence," and I've done it and I want my money.'

'The job in question being to drive that pig into the school-yard?' said the Head Master sharply.

'I said I'd say nothing about it and I won't,' answered the boy stolidly.

Mr. Wilson eyed Baker with an air of meditation that took in everything from the guilty expression on his face to the algebra book under his arm.

'Give the boy his money, Baker,' he said, 'and I should like to see you and Paynton in the study after afternoon school.'

'You won't catch me following any more of your precious plans,' said Paynton, as, having paid the sixpence, the two boys hurried back to their cla.s.s-room.

When they entered the Head Master's study in the afternoon, a surprise awaited them. Tea, accompanied by the most delicious cakes, was prepared on the corner table, and Mr. Wilson talked to them and pressed the good things upon them as if there were no such thing as a cane in the cupboard behind the door. Under these strange new circ.u.mstances, their awkwardness wore off, and they were soon talking to their Head Master in a manner that surprised themselves.

It was not until tea was over that Mr. Wilson mentioned either the pig or the algebra books, and then he did it in such a friendly way that he astonished them more than ever.

'Well, now, about the pig this morning,' he began, 'suppose you arranged the whole business in order to make me look out of the window, and give you an opportunity of regaining the algebra books which you thought I had forgotten?'

'Yes, sir,' said Baker, feebly.

'And I expect it was something to do with you two boys that the school fire-brigade was summoned out by a false alarm last week, and that no one could go into your cla.s.s-room without the most frightful attacks of coughing, one day in the week before.'

Baker nodded, but said nothing. He was wondering why he had ever considered the Head Master absent-minded. Even Mr. Potter had not connected him with either of these two exciting events.

'Well, these things all show a very high power of organization. You evidently possess the abilities which, well trained and properly disciplined, would be capable of manoeuvring an army, or at any rate, of carrying their owners to a high rank in the Service.'

The boys stared in astonishment. They had never worried themselves as to the particular nature of their abilities, but the idea of leading armies appealed to them.

'I see that both your names are down for Sandhurst,' went on Mr. Wilson; 'but unless you can get through the cla.s.ses much faster than you have done as yet, there is not the smallest chance of your being ready for the examination. With really hard work, you might still get into the Army Cla.s.s at the proper time, and I must leave it to you to decide whether you consider it worth while to do so or not. You can think it over, boys. Good-bye for the present,' and Baker and Paynton found that the dreaded interview with the Head Master was over, and that he had given them a great deal to think about.

The result of their meditations may be summed up in the remark Paynton made to Baker as they went into school next morning.

'I almost wish Billy had caned us,' he said in a regretful voice. 'It will be all right to end up as celebrated generals, but it will be jolly slow in school if we're not going to have any more larks.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The most wily and cunning black pig that ever made his escape."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: OPPORTUNITY MAKES THE THIEF.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'See! A Matabele!'"]

ROUND THE CAMP-FIRE.

By HAROLD ERICSON.

V.--SAVED FROM THE MATABELES

'Look here, Teddy,' said Rolf Denison, addressing Vandeleur, whose turn had come round again for a yarn, 'You promised to tell us more about young what's-his-name, the Matabele boy who was half English, or something of the sort, and said he was a White Witch; you left him disappearing into the jungle, offended, and promised you would tell us about him reappearing "at a critical moment." I want to hear about that critical moment.'

'So do I,' Bobby chimed in; 'I was rather interested in that chap--what was his name--Um something---- '

'Umkopo,' Vandeleur laughed. 'All right, here goes, then, for my yarn; I fancy you'd be still more interested in Umkopo if you knew as much about him as I do; I didn't know _then_, mind you, when all this happened, nor did Umkopo himself; maybe I will make that into a yarn too, one day.'

Well, it was just at the beginning of the first Matabele war that I first came across Umkopo, and it was not until the middle of the second war--the rising in Mashonaland--that we met again. I was out hunting again when the new troubles broke out, and finding myself not far from Bulawayo when the rumour of war reached me, I made all haste to reach the town before I should be cut off by one of the large bands or _impis_ of natives at that time prowling about in search of defenceless foreigners in outlying farms.

I was about thirty miles from Bulawayo, when a couple of Kaffirs, flying south, came across us and gave us news. The Mashona boys were 'up'

everywhere, full of fight and full of mischief; already many farms had been attacked, and though the alarm had been sent east and west, and south and north, yet there were many of the new settlers in great danger, and--so far as human probability went--all or most of those who were not safely in Bulawayo would be cut off and murdered, and their homes pillaged and burned.

'You are as good as dead already,' they cheerfully informed us, 'unless you can somehow get safely into the town, and that is very unlikely indeed, because the Matabele are all round it, preventing people leaving or arriving.'

Of course this was said in Kaffir English, and certainly our informants looked frightened enough to warrant the truth of their news.

'Aren't they doing anything at Bulawayo to help the outlying farms?' I asked. 'Surely the towns people are not leaving them all to be murdered in cold blood?'

'They expect to be attacked themselves--the town is going to be besieged,' said the frightened Kaffirs; 'they are fortifying themselves and forming an army, but they are sure to be killed, every one of them.'

This sounded cheerful, indeed. Of course, so far as Bulawayo and its population were concerned the news was only partially true. Bulawayo, as probably you will remember, behaved most excellently; it not only defended its own women and children from attack, but contrived to send out parties of rescue to many of those known to be exposed to danger in outlying parts of the country, saving numbers of British men, women and children, who would have otherwise perished.

The Kaffirs continued their flight southward, and I found myself suddenly called upon to make a very important decision.

Twenty miles away, northward and eastward, lay the farm of a man who had offered me hospitality quite lately. This was Gadsby, a man of some thirty-five years, married and with three small children. His partner, Thomson, lived with him. In all probability these two men, Mrs. Gadsby, and the three little ones--dear little people, two girls of six and five, and a boy of about seven--were all, at this moment, in deadly danger. Surely the least I could do would be to hasten to their a.s.sistance; what with my two rifles, a few Kaffirs to keep watch and so forth, and my humble self to help with the shooting I might be of the greatest service--possibly even turn the scale against their enemies.

If I were to decide to take this course instead of making for Bulawayo, I should, of course, run the risk of encountering an _impi_ of natives on the warpath, and I should then have my work cut out to come safely through the danger. But, on the other hand, the journey to Bulawayo was beset with equal risks, and Bulawayo was farther from this spot than the farm.

Naturally, there was in reality only one course open to a self-respecting man, and I decided at once that I would go to the Gadsbys.