CHAPTER XII
THE DOWNFALL
In one point the master was a great disappointment to Hughie; he couldnot be persuaded to play shinny. The usual challenge had come up fromthe Front, with its more than usual insolence, and Hughie, who nowranked himself among the big boys, felt the shame and humiliation to beintolerable. By the most strenuous exertions he started the gamegoing with the first fall of snow, but it was difficult to work upany enthusiasm for the game in the face of Foxy's very determined andweighty opposition, backed by the master's lazy indifference. For,in spite of Hughie's contempt and open sneers, Foxy had determined toreopen his store with new and glowing attractions. He seemed to have alarger command of capital than ever, and he added several very importantdepartments to his financial undertaking.
The rivalry between Hughie and Foxy had become acute, but besides this,there was in Hughie's heart a pent-up fierceness and longing for revengethat he could with difficulty control. And though he felt pretty certainthat in an encounter with Foxy he would come off second best, and thoughin consequence he delayed that encounter as long as possible, he neverlet Foxy suspect his fear of him, and waited with some anxiety for theinevitable crisis.
Upon one thing Hughie was resolved, that the challenge from the Frontshould be accepted, and that they should no longer bear the taunt ofcowardice, but should make a try, even though it meant certain defeat.
His first step had been the organization of the shinny club. His nextstep was to awaken the interest of the master. But in vain he enlargedupon the boastfulness and insolence of the Front; in vain he recountedthe achievements of their heroes of old, who in those brave days had wonvictory and fame over all comers for their school and county; the masterwould not be roused to anything more than a languid interest in thegame. And this was hardly to be wondered at, for shinny in the snow uponthe roadway in front of the school was none too exciting. But fromthe day when the game was transferred to the mill-pond, one Saturdayafternoon when the North and South met in battle, the master'sindifference vanished, for it turned out that he was an enthusiasticskater, and as Hughie said, "a whirlwind on the ice."
After that day shinny was played only upon the ice, and the master,assuming the position of coach, instituted a more scientific style ofgame, and worked out a system of combined play that made even smallboys dangerous opponents to boys twice their size and weight. Under hisguidance it was that the challenge to the Front was so worded as tomake the contest a game on ice, and to limit the number of the team toeleven. Formerly the number had been somewhat indefinite, varying fromfifteen to twenty, and the style of play a general melee. Hughie wasmade captain of the shinny team, and set himself, under the master'sdirection, to perfect their combination and team play.
The master's unexpected interest in the shinny game was the first andchief cause of Foxy's downfall as leader of the school, and if Hughiehad possessed his soul in patience he might have enjoyed thespectacle of Foxy's overthrow without involving himself in the painfulconsequences which his thirst for vengeance and his vehement desire toaccomplish Foxy's ruin brought upon him.
The story of the culmination of the rivalry between Hughie and Foxy ispreserved in John Craven's second letter to his friend Edward Maitland.The letter also gives an account of the master's own undoing--an undoingwhich bore fruit to the end of his life.
"Dear Ned:--
"I hasten to correct the false impression my previous letter must haveconveyed to you. It occurs to me that I suggested that this schoolafforded unrivaled opportunities for repose. Further acquaintancereveals to me the fact that it is the seething center of the mostnerve-racking excitement. The life of the school is reflected in thelife of the community, and the throbs of excitement that vibrate fromthe school are felt in every home of the section. We are in the thickof preparations for a deadly contest with the insolent, benighted,boastful, but hitherto triumphant Front, in the matter of shinny. Youknow my antipathy to violent sports, and you will find some difficultyin picturing me an enthusiastic trainer and general director of theTwentieth team, flying about, wildly gesticulating with a club, andshrieking orders, imprecations, cautions, encouragements, in the mostfrantic manner, at as furious a company of little devils as ever wentjoyously to battle.
"Then, as if this were not excitement enough, I am made the unwittingspectator of a truly Homeric contest, bloodier by far than many of thosefought on the plains of windy Troy, between the rival leaders of theschool, to wit, Hughie of the angelic face and OTHER-angelic temper, andan older and much heavier boy, who rejoices in the cognomen of 'Foxy,'as being accurately descriptive at once of the brilliance of his foliageand of his financial tactics.
"It appears that for many months this rivalry has existed, but Iam convinced that there is more in the struggle than appears on thesurface. There is some dark and deadly mystery behind it all that onlyadds, of course, to the thrilling interest it holds for me.
"Long before I arrived on the arena, which was an open space in thewoods in front of what Foxy calls his store, wild shrieks and yells fellupon my ears, as if the aboriginal denizens of the forest had returned.Quietly approaching, I soon guessed the nature of the excitement, andbeing unwilling to interfere until I had thoroughly grasped the ethicaland other import of the situation, I shinned up a tree, and from thispoint of vantage took in the spectacle. It appeared from Foxy's violentaccusations that Hughie had been guilty of wrecking the store, which,by the way, the latter utterly despises and contemns. The followinginteresting and striking conversation took place:
"'What are you doing in my store, anyway?' says he of the brilliantfoliage. 'You're just a thief, that's what you are, and a sneakingthief.'
"Promptly the lie comes back. 'I wasn't touching your rotten stuff!' andagain the lie is exchanged.
"Immediately there is demand from the spectators that the matter beargued to a demonstration, and thereupon one of the larger boys, wishingto precipitate matters and to furnish a casus belli, puts a chip uponHughie's shoulder and dares Foxy to knock it off. But Hughie flings thechip aside.
"'Go away with yourself and your chip. I'm not going to fight for anychip.'
"Yells of derision, 'Cowardy, cowardy, custard,' 'Give him a goodcuffing, Foxy,' 'He's afraid,' and so forth. And indeed, Hughie appearsnone too anxious to prove his innocence and integrity upon the big andsolid body of his antagonist.
"Foxy, much encouraged by the clamor of his friends, deploys in force infront of his foe, shouting, 'Come on, you little thief!'
"'I'm not a thief! I didn't touch one of your things!'
"'Whether you touched my things or not, you're a thief, anyway, and youknow you are. You stole money, and I know it, and you know it yourself.'
"To this Hughie strangely enough makes no reply, wherein lies themystery. But though he makes no reply he faces up boldly to Foxy andoffers battle. This is evidently a surprise to Foxy, who contentshimself with threats as to what he can do with his one hand tied behindhis back, and what he will do in a minute, while Hughie waits, wastingno strength upon words.
"Finally Foxy strides to his store door, and apparently urged to frenzyby the sight of the wreckage therein, comes back and lands a sharp cuffon his antagonist's ear.
"It is all that is needed. As if he had touched a spring, Hughie flewat him wildly, inconsequently making a windmill of his arms. Butfortunately he runs foul of one of Foxy's big fists, and falls backwith spouting nose. Enthusiastic yells from Foxy's following. And Foxy,having done much better than he expected, is encouraged to pursue hisadvantage.
"Meantime the blood is being mopped off Hughie's face with a snowball,his tears flowing equally with his blood.
"'Wait till to-morrow,' urges Fusie, his little French fidus Achates.
"'To-morrow!' yells Hughie, suddenly. 'No, but now! I'll kill the lying,sneaking, white-faced beast now, or I'll die myself!' after which heroicresolve he flings himself, blood and tears, upon the waiting Foxy, andthis time with better result, for Foxy, waiting the attack
with arms upand eyes shut, finds himself pummeled all over the face, and after a fewmoments of ineffectual resistance, turns, and in quite the Homeric wayseeks safety in flight, followed by the furious and vengeful Achilles,and the jeering shouts of the bloodthirsty but disappointed rabble.
"As I have said, the mystery behind it remains unsolved, but Foxy'sreign is at an end, and with him goes the store, for which I am devoutlythankful.
"I would my tale ended here with the downfall of Foxy, but, my dear Ned,I have to record a sadder and more humiliating downfall than that--theabject and utter collapse of my noble self. I have once more playedthe fool, and played into the hands of the devil, mine own familiar andwell-beloved devil.
"The occasion I need not enlarge upon; it always waits. A long day'sskate, a late supper with some of the wilder and more reckless outcastsof this steady-going community that frequent the back store, results inmy appearing at the manse door late at night, very unsteady of leg andincoherent of speech. By a most unhappy chance, a most scurvy trickmy familiar devil played upon me, the door is opened by the minister'swife. I can see her look of fear, horror, and loathing yet. It didmore to pull me together than a cold bath, so that I saved myself thehumiliation of speech and escaped to my room.
"And now, what do you think? Reproaches, objurgations, and finaldismissal on the part of the padre, tearful exhortations to repentanceon the part of his wife? Not a bit. If you believe me, sir, my unhappymisadventure remains a secret with her. She told not a soul. Remarkablyfine, I call that. And what more, think you? A cold and haughty reserve,or a lofty pity, with the fearful expectation of judgment? Not inthe least. Only a little added kindness, a deeper note to the frank,sympathetic interest she has always shown, and that is all. My dearchap, I offered to leave, but when she looked at me with those greathazel-brown eyes of hers and said, 'Why should you go? Would it bebetter for you any place else?' I found myself enjoying the luxury ofan entirely new set of emotions, which I shall not analyze to you. ButI feel more confident than ever that I shall either die early or end inbeing a saint.
"And now, do you know, she persists in ignoring that anything has takenplace, talks to me about her young men and her hopes for them, the workshe would do for them, and actually asks my assistance! It appears thatever since their Great Revival, which is the beginning of days to them,events being dated from before the Great Revival or after, some ofthese young men have a desire to be ministers, or think they have. It isreally her desire, I suspect, for them. The difficulty is, preparationfor college. In this she asks my help. The enormous incongruity ofthe situation does not appear to strike her, that I, the--too manyunutterable things--should be asked to prepare these young giants, withtheir 'tremenjous' religious convictions, for the ministry; neverthelessI yield myself to do anything and everything she lays upon me. I repeat,I shall without doubt end in being a saint myself, and should not besurprised to find myself with these 'tremenjous' young men on the wayto Holy Orders. Fancy the good Doctor's face! He would suspect a lurkingpleasantry in it all.
"This letter, I know, will render chaotic all your conceptions of me,and in this chaos of mind I can heartily sympathize. What the nextchapter will be, God only knows! It depends upon how my familiar devilbehaves himself. Meantime, I am parleying with him, and with someanxiety as to the result subscribe myself,
"Your friend,
"J. C."