CHAPTER XXIX
WHY BIFFEN'S LOST
After the Lord's match there were two burning subjects of conversation:Who should be captain in my place? and which house should be the cockhouse at cricket? Every house captain looked with dread upon the houseof Corker, great alike at cricket and footer, and it was agreed thatvery probably Phil Bourne would once more lead his men on to victory.Biffen's house did not stand much chance, for there was no superlativeActon at cricket; but it was, indeed, mainly through his efforts thatBiffen's was as good as it was. You may remember that Acton had takenunder his patronage those dark-skinned dervishes, Singh Ram and RunjitMehtah. They were unquestionably the best pair of fellows in the schoolin strictly gymnastic work; and when summer came they showed that theywould, sooner or later, do something startling with the bat. TheBiffenite captain, Dick Worcester, did not altogether relish theirproficiency. "It's just my luck to have my eleven filled up withniggers," he observed to Acton in half-humourous disgust; but Biffenitespinned their faith on Worcester, the dervishes, and Acton, and, to thehuge delight of Grim, Rogers, Wilson, Thurston, and other enthusiasticjunior Biffenites, the resurrected house survived the first two rounds.
The third round they were to meet Taylor's lot, a good house, and thehopes of Grim and Co. were tinged with considerable doubt.
On the particular afternoon when this important match was to be played,Todd had strolled off to the Lodestone stream, laden with all thenecessary tackle for the slaying of a few innocent perch. The year'sfinal lists of the forms were due also in the evening on the variousnotice-boards.
Gus had redeemed his promise made at the beginning of the term, and hadworked hard for a prominent position on the list, and his attempt tocapture the history medal had been, he thought, fairly satisfactory. Hewould soon know his fate, however, in both directions. Meanwhile, toallay his anxiety as to the results, he had unpatriotically given thecricket-fields a wide berth, and thus deprived Taylor's of the privilegeof his cheer in the house match. He and Cotton had an invitation to dinewith Taylor that evening, so, after telling Jim his programme for theafternoon, he had trudged down the lane which Jack Bourne knew so well.
The afternoon was hot: the one-o'clock sun made Gus think that perhapsthere was more cruelty than usual in luring the fishes out of the coolwaters of the Lodestone; but, nevertheless, he philosophically baitedhis hook, and cast forth. The sport was not exciting, and by-and-by Gusfound himself wondering, not why the fish were so shy, but whence camethe faint, delicate perfume of cigars, which undoubtedly reached hisnostrils? The Lodestone Farm was a quarter of a mile away, and obviouslythe scent could not travel thus far, and since Gus was alone on thebanks of the stream, running sluggishly towards the moat, the constantwhiffs of cigars reaching him seemed somewhat mysterious. Gus lookedagain carefully, but could see no one, and yet there was undoubtedlysome one smoking very near him.
"Well, it _is_ odd," said Gus, for the nth time sniffing the "taintedbreeze." Curiosity piqued the fisher to trace the mystery. Hereconnoitred carefully, and presently fancied he could hear the faintmurmur of voices. This proceeded from the boat-house, wherein Hillmoored the moat punt. "I'll just make a reconnaissance in force," saidGus, putting down his rod. Arrived at the punt-house, Gus peeped inthrough the slightly open door, and discovered no less importantpersonages than Runjit Mehtah and "Burnt Lamb." The two dervishes werelolling luxuriantly on the punt cushions, each smoking a fine fat cigar,and the combined efforts of the two gave quite an Oriental air ofmagnificence to the ramshackle boat-house.
"Hallo!" said Gus. "What the deuce are you doing?"
The cigars nearly fell from the mouth of each of the smokers as Gusappeared on the scene, but when the smokers made out Todd's facethrough the haze, Mehtah said, with much relief--
"Oh, talking."
"That isn't quite a true bill," said Gus. "Your Flora Fina de Cabbagioskeep the fish from biting."
"Have one," said Burnt Lamb, hospitably offering Todd a cigar.
"No thanks. Is this punt-house your usual lounge?"
"Sometimes," said Mehtah. "We can't do without our smoke, and we can'tdo it, you know, at the school."
"No, that you jolly well can't, my dusky Othello. But aren't you twobooked for the Houser's this afternoon? I thought you were the backboneof Biffen's."
"The match is not for an hour yet," said Lamb.
"Oh yes," said Mehtah, "we're going to sit on your house this afternoon,Todd."
At this most interesting point of the conversation the door of thepunt-house was violently slammed to, and Gus was propelled forward cleaninto the punt and received hurriedly into the unexpectant arms of BurntLamb. Before any of the three could understand what had happened therewas a hurried fumbling with the staple and pin of the punt-house doorfrom the outside, and then an equally hurried retreat of footsteps.
"Well, I'm hanged!" said Gus, after he had picked himself up and triedthe door. "We're locked in."
Young Rogers and Wilson, who had done this fell deed, hoped there wasno doubt about the locking. This couple of ornaments had immediatelyafter dinner snatched their caps and ran on past the Lodestone Farm fora particular purpose. They had found a yellowhammer's nest a day or sobefore, containing one solitary egg, and their hurried run was for thepurpose of seeing if there was any increase, and if so--well, the usualresult. They were anxious to get back to the cricket-field in time toshout and generally give their house a leg-up when the Houser withTaylor's commenced, and their friend Grim had strict orders to bag themeach seats, front row, in the pavilion. They had been busy blowing eggsfor pretty well twenty minutes, and, as they were lazily returningschoolwards, they caught sight of Gus watching his float.
"There's Gus Todd trying to hook tiddlers," said Rogers.
"Shy a stone," suggested Wilson, "and wake 'em up."
"Rot! There's no cover."
"It's only Todd," said Wilson. "What's the odds?"
"Yes, but not quite the old ass. Better get home."
Keeping well out of sight, the two cronies had watched with curiosityTodd's manoeuvres as he tried to run the cigar-smokers to earth. WhenGus entered the punt-house, a bright idea struck Wilson.
"Say, Rogers, remember Toddy locking us in the laboratory last term? Twohundred Virgil."
"Ah!" said Rogers, catching the meaning of Wilson's remark instanter;"if we only could cork him up there for the afternoon! That would payhim out for Merishall's call-over lines."
"We'll chance it," said Wilson. "If we can't do it, well, we didn't knowGussy was in--eh?"
"Rather! That is the exact fable we'll serve out to Todd, if necessary."
Breaking cover, the young Biffenites had secured the door of thepunt-house without any difficulty, and then had run for dear life.
"Golly!" said Rogers, pulling up when well out of sight of theboat-house; "we did that rather neat, eh? Hanged if Toddy wasn't smokinglike a chimney. Did you twig his weed?"
"Regular stench," said Wilson. "Toddy will have to swim out through thefront way, or howl for help. The punt is sure to be locked."
"He'll have to take a header off the punt into the moat, and that isn'tcrystal, exactly."
"Six yards of mud is about the figure," said Wilson, almosthysterically.
"I say, old man, if we'd only been able to bottle up Jim Cotton alongwith his chum! What price Biffen's for the Houser, then?"
"_If_" said Wilson, wistfully. "Wouldn't the dervishes walk intoTaylor's bowling, if Bully wasn't there to sling them in?"
"Never mind," said Rogers, hardly daring to contemplate the ravishingprospect of Taylor's house without Cotton, "the dervishes are sure tocome out strong this afternoon. Let 'em once get their eye in, andeither of 'em is good enough for a hundred."
The two young Biffenites found the faithful Grim holding the fort in thefront bench of the pavilion against the ardent assaults of someTaylorian juniors, who could not see what Grim wanted with three seats.The fellows of the two houses were rapidly lining up for the
match, andDick Worcester had sent to Biffen's making affectionate inquiries forthe dervishes. By-and-by, word was brought to Worcester that the twowere not to be found in the neighbourhood; and a further hurried searchby anxious Biffenites, headed by Rogers and Wilson, had a like result.
"Isn't it awful, Grimmy?" said Rogers. "Where can the idiots be?"
Worcester and Acton had a consultation. "If they don't turn up in timewe'll have to make a start without 'em."
"If we have to go in we may give 'em up. We can't bat substitutes."
"No fear!" said Dick. "Cotton isn't likely to hear of that, and,besides, it's just like the rotten thing you might expect from thoseniggers."
Acton smiled. "All right, old chap. Put in Grim and Rogers in theirplace. The little beggars will be as keen as mustard."
So Grim and Rogers had the honour of representing their house, since thedervishes did not turn up. Rogers, when he shut the door on Todd, didnot guess that he had shut up Biffen's crack bats too. That Biffen'slost the match, and made no sort of show against Cotton's bowling, mayalso, perhaps, be attributed to the inadvertent imprisonment of Mehtahand "Lamb."
The imprisoned trio had not had a very lively time that afternoon in thepunt-house. The door remained obstinately shut, and neither Todd nor histwo companions relished a swim in the moat as the price of freedom. Thedervishes took matters very calmly; the desire to play for Biffen's wasnot strong enough to counterbalance the natural shrinking from a headerinto the duckweed and a run home in wet clothes. Singh Ram had a finaltry at the door, and then murmured--so Gus said--"Kismet," and relit hishalf-smoked cigar. Todd, indeed, shouted lustily; but when he realizedthat by contributing to the escape of the dervishes he might contributeto the downfall of his own house, he stopped himself in the middle of anunearthly howl. For three hours Gus remained a half-voluntary prisoner;but, when he judged it safe, he created such a pandemonium that youngHill hurried out of the farm stable, thinking there must be some weirdtragedy taking place at the punt-house. He had hurried across and letthe trio out.
The dervishes got a mixed reception from Biffen's crowd. Worcester wasalmost eloquent in his language, and Acton was calmly indifferent.
"But I tell you, Worcester, some beast locked us in the punt-house."
"I wish they'd kept you there," said Dick, unmollified.
Whilst Worcester was swallowing his tea, Rogers and Wilson cravedaudience. Their faces were as long as fiddles.
"Oh, Worcester!" began Rogers, tremulously, "we've come to tell you thatit was we who lost Biffen's the houser."
"Why, Wilson didn't play, and you caught Cotton," said Dick, astonished.
"But we locked the dervishes in the punt-house--we thought there wasonly Todd inside."
"Oh, you did, you little beggars, did you?" said Worcester, consideringthe doleful and grief-stricken Biffenites. "Well, here's a shilling foreach of you if you keep it dark. I'm deucedly glad the dervishes didn'tplay. I'd rather lose a dozen housers than feel the niggers wereindispensable. Now, cut; and next time you bottle 'em up, see they don'tget out."
"Golly!" said Rogers, as the two left Worcester to his tea. "I supposethe sun's affected Worcester's brain."
Whilst the dervishes were explaining matters to Worcester the otherprisoner was elbowing his way into the crowd around the Fifth Formnotice-board, whereon were pinned the final lists. Jim Cotton wasplanted squarely before the board, eyeing the contents with hugedelight, and when he caught sight of the struggling Gus he haled himvigorously forward.
"Here you are, Gus! By Jove, Toddy, you've done it this time, you oldPerry fizzler!"
Gus eyed the list with delighted eyes.
This is what he saw: "First--Todd, A.V.R.--history medal, and chemistryprize."
Need I say anything more of either Todd or Cotton? Todd entered theSixth when the summer holidays were over, and Phil Bourne writes meoften and tells me what a big gun Todd is in the schools. Jim Cotton wasentered upon the roll-call of some celebrated "crammer" near the CrystalPalace. If crammers' hearts _could_ be broken, Jim, I should say, willaccomplish the feat. But if ever James Cotton _does_ get into the Armyhe will never disgrace his regiment.