They were ready, too, for fresh sensations. That followed as a matter of course. Very few really believed that that expedition could have taken place without somehow coming to the notice of the Head, and the air was alive with surmise2 as to what he would do.
The news of what he had already done hit them with a thud.
At first it seemed incredible—that part which concerned Toby, anyway. And then when confirmation3 of it came from every available source, and there could be no further doubt, the school bowed their heads to the blow, and Harley passed into mourning.
198There were many who could not believe that there was not some way out. The ban on games was not so very terrible. But that, because of that match with Rainhurst, Toby Nicholson should go, and with him the school boxing coach and the gym. instructors5, was too shockingly bad to be true. Everybody had known why Toby had gone to town that day. He had known about the match, and so he had kept away. Now he was to pay the penalty for not denouncing it. For a while brains were dulled. The brightest boys could think of no way of escape save humble6 apology to the Head or open riot. The latter could scarcely save Toby; it might in the end only serve to aggravate7 the general position, and the former was almost more than they could visualise. It would, in any case, only mean sacrificing Rouse to save Toby.
In every study friends sat together in silent wretchedness. There was scarcely a face in all the school that had not grown noticeably longer since morning. Rouse was little to be seen. A few had passed him walking across the open, with head erect8 and a face that was quite expressionless, but none except seniors had had a word with him, and even they could not guess accurately9 what his real feelings were. That he was keeping them to himself, and that he was very badly hit, was the most they could report.
Terence only was with him in his study when Toby knocked quietly at the door, just before dinner-time, and came in, and Rouse got up stiffly and stood at the table watching him as he entered, palpably afraid to hope for any better news.
“Is it true, sir?” said he at last. “Did he mean it?”
“It’s true, yes; but after all, term’s nearly over. It’s not so very awful.”
199Rouse drew away.
“But it’s my fault. That’s the trouble. The Head told me so. He got at me.” He paused. There was silence for a moment. Then he said again: “He got at me.”
“How?”
“Somehow he’d come to know that the fellows had planned to share the blame. He said I was afraid to take it on my own shoulders. He said it was my personal vanity that the school would have to suffer for now. Because I was too conceited——”
Toby stopped him.
“He didn’t tell me that. He said that I was clearly too recently a schoolboy to carry proper weight with the fellows here now. His idea was that it would do me a great deal of good to go to another school for a while and gain experience in handling youngsters, and then in a year or so’s time perhaps come back here, with a heavier manner about me, and try again. He considers that half the trouble here this term has been because I have not exercised proper influence with you chaps. He is prepared to recommend me to a post at another school. But to strengthen his own position here, he wants me to go this week and not to wait till the end of the term. That’s all.”
Rouse shook his head.
“No,” said he. “He was right. It’s my fault; and besides, how about Wilcox and the gym. sergeants12?”
“Wilcox has had notice,” answered Toby. “The Head is going to recommend him for another job, too. The gym. sergeants are to shut up the gym. and go for a holiday. And they’re to wait instructions. But he doesn’t want me to come back whilst you two are here. He thinks I’ve a bad influence over you somehow or other.”
“What shall we do?” asked Terence, speaking for the first time. “Where will you go?”
200“I shall go for a holiday,” he answered. “And,” he added, “you’ve got to cheer up. You’ve had your good time. You played the match. My biggest regret is that I wasn’t there to see it. I don’t mind my gruelling. You mustn’t mind yours.”
Now there was throughout this mournful Sunday only one study in Harley that held a young man whose countenance13 was not distressed14. Upon this young man’s lips there was, as a matter of fact, a decided15 smile. He sat at his table looking cheerfully across the room at Christopher Woolf Roe16, and when he spoke17 his voice was light.
“When I first heard it,” he was saying, “I was frightfully fed up, because I’d a pretty decent chance of being captain of boxing next year and I’ve been practising a good deal, whilst there’s been no footer. It seemed to me that this rather upset my apple-cart. I had a sudden vision of boxing being barred next term, just like footer has been this, and I can tell you I didn’t like it. But I can see now that after all it isn’t at all a bad scheme of your father’s. He’s caught them on the hop10. To-day everybody will be Rugger mad. And this is the time to get them. You and I may be able to give some colours away even yet. Did you tell your father about my plan?”
“Well, I told him you had one, but as a matter of fact he got rather annoyed.”
Coles was decidedly taken aback.
“Annoyed? Why?”
“He seemed to think it was a bit patronising of you to make a plan at all.”
“Oh, nonsense!” snapped Coles. “He didn’t understand. You didn’t explain it properly.”
“I didn’t have time.”
“Well, anyway, I shall try it all the same, and then when he finds out how successful it turns out 201perhaps he’ll alter his mind. When I first got the idea I never thought I’d have such a topping chance as this to put it into effect. Just imagine Rouse’s feelings now. If ever he’s going to do what we want, now’s the chance. If he needs anything to help him decide we ought to send it to him. My original idea was just to play on the fact that he’d had his day and he ought to be satisfied, and let the school get on with it. This is twenty times better. It’s a dead snip19.” He laughed shortly. After a moment he opened a book upon the table and took from between the pages a sheet of plain paper. This he passed with evident pride to Roe. “Would you recognise that writing?” said he.
Roe peered at it thoughtfully.
“No,” said he at last. “It looks like some kid’s.”
Curiously20 enough, Terence expressed exactly the same opinion when that sheet of paper was handed to him a few hours later. He added, however, a brief proviso.
“Naturally,” said he, “a fellow who wants to write an anonymous21 letter doesn’t use his own handwriting.”
Rouse had moved to his side and was reading it through again with solemn eyes. At last he spoke.
“Do you think that’s true? Whoever he is, do you think he’s right?”
“I think he’s off his nut.”
Rouse laid the paper upon the table and carefully smoothed it out. Then he sat down and began to read it through all over again.
It was quite a short note. It had no proper beginning and no ending. It purported22 to be a mere23 statement of fact.
“There is a general feeling in the school,” it read, “that as you have had your ambition and led the 202school team on the footer field you ought to give way now. The fellows think that if it’s a question of sacrificing either you or Mr Nicholson, it ought not to be Mr Nicholson who must suffer for what was your idea. Some of us have decided to let you know this.”
For a little while Rouse sat with his head propped24 in his hands staring at it fixedly25, and eventually he sat back.
“Whoever it was,” said he, “he read my thoughts very well indeed. What he’s written down is exactly what I’ve been thinking all day. The only thing I’m afraid of is this. Supposing I go to the Head and give in. Supposing I promise to play under Roe and get the school to recognise him as captain. What will the Head do? Will he play the game? I’ve got a horrible fear at the back of my head that he won’t. I can picture the way he’ll smile. He’ll say that he’s very glad to hear it. And then if I say: ‘Now, will you let Mr Nicholson stay?’ he’ll open his eyes at me and say: ‘Good gracious, boy, I’m not here to make bargains. My decision of last night was not a threat; it was a punishment.’ And then I shall have humbled26 the school for nothing.”
Terence moved towards him again and gripped him by the shoulders.
“Look here. Don’t you do anything confoundedly idiotic27. Leave the Head absolutely alone. We’re not going to let a man win a fight by hitting below the belt. Toby can look after himself. As he says, it’s nearly the end of term already. We’ll see it out. This rotten note is a lie from start to finish. There’s no such feeling in the school at all. Don’t you be guyed by a thing like this.”
“Well, who’s written it?” demanded Rouse. “Tell me that. The thing was left lying on this table. Somebody must have put it there.”
203Terence took it up once more.
“Let’s have another look,” said he.
Next moment there came a gentle tap at the door, and the one who in all the school Rouse would have least wanted to see that note came in, and he sprang up quickly. It was Toby.
Rouse looked at Terence with quick meaning, but Terence ignored him.
“Here, Toby,” said he, “you’re just the chap we want. Have a look at this.”
Rouse sprang towards it.
“No. Give it to me. It’s mine. My mind’s made up. That doesn’t make any difference at all.”
“Yes, it does,” said Terence sharply. “It’s getting at you. You believe it’s true.”
“It is true. Give it to me. I want it.”
Terence pushed him away, then stretched out his hand towards Toby.
“Take it,” he said. “Tell Rouse what you think of a thing like this.”
Toby came towards him with a puzzled manner. He glanced quickly at Rouse, and noting his expression turned to Terence; then in the scramble28 for possession, he suddenly snatched the sheet of paper out of his hand and moved aside with it. Rouse stopped abruptly29 and looked at him hopelessly, while Terence, glaring defiantly30, sat down at last in a chair and said:
There was a short silence.
At last Toby looked at them each in turn.
“Where did you get this?”
“He found it on the table when he came in after dinner,” said Terence.
“Who do you suppose put it there?”
“I only wish I knew.”
“D’you know who wrote it?”
204“No,” said Terence. “Either someone’s disguised his handwriting or else it’s a mere kid.”
“What does it matter anyway?” said Rouse. “It’s true, and that’s an end of it.”
Toby was reading it through again and looking carefully at the writing.
“As a matter of fact,” he said at last, “I can tell you who wrote this.”
The two chums turned to him.
“There’s only one fellow I know of who makes a ‘T’ like that,” said Toby. “It’s a pretty good effort at hiding his hand, but it’s not quite good enough. I could identify that ‘T’ anywhere. I’ve seen it too often. The fellow who wrote this is in my form.”
He waited a moment as if that were an intentional31 hint.
“Well?” said Terence.
“Carr wrote this.”
There was a moment’s utter stillness. At last Terence made a peculiar32 noise in his throat and turned contemptuously away. Rouse moved slowly towards Toby, and taking the note from him again looked at it once more.
Then he said:
“Carr? Why on earth should Carr write a thing like this?”
“Oh, you ass,” cried Terence, jumping up with a wild gesture. “Can’t you see it? Haven’t you tumbled yet? Why, good Lord, man! whose fag is Carr?”
“Coles’,” said Rouse, in a whisper.
“Yes,” repeated Terence, “Coles’.” He waited a moment. “And so,” he added, “Carr wrote that because he was made to. Hasn’t Coles got a hold on the kid? Didn’t Henry tell us that Carr was the only fellow who wasn’t delighted about the match? Do you wonder he wasn’t delighted when he knew 205he’d got to write something like this on the strength of it? Coles probably intended to send you a note like this anyway. The Head’s given him a better opening than he ever bargained for, that’s all. Carr wrote it, yes. And Coles made it up.”
Rouse turned very slowly upon his heel and faced him.
“Then,” said he, “if that’s so, it may have been Coles who let the Head know that all you fellows had promised to share the blame if there were any trouble about this match.”
“I should say it most certainly was. He probably told Roe and got him to pass it on.”
“Yes,” said Rouse thoughtfully. “Yes. I suppose that would be it.”
For a moment or two he stood like a man awaking from a trance. His eyes passed slowly and unseeingly round well-known objects about the study, and came to rest at last upon Toby’s thoughtful countenance.
“Did you want to see me, sir?”
“What I came in about will wait,” said Toby. “But now that I’m here I should just like to say this. If you do anything fat-headed—anything on the lines of that letter—it will be strictly33 against my wishes, and absolutely against the best interests of the school. If you lose your nerve now you may undo34 all the good that your example has done for the school throughout this term. I am going to-morrow, and when I leave here I want to be sure that you will carry on the good work you have been doing all the way through the term. I want you to promise me not to give in just because—it hurts. It’s not for your sake, it’s for the good of Harley.”
“Yes, that’s all right, sir,” said Rouse, in a peculiarly small voice. “I quite understand. You can trust me to see that the chaps hang on to the end ... now. I wasn’t thinking of that so much. Only 206if you don’t want me particularly I’d like you to excuse me a moment?” He paused. “I should like,” he added, “to go along and find Coles.”
The brothers Nicholson looked first at him and then at one another. Clearly the same thoughts had entered either mind.
It was Terence who spoke.
“There’s only one thing,” said he. “I ought to just mention it. You haven’t forgotten that Coles is something of a boxer35? You remember he won the heavyweights last year?”
Rouse nodded his head.
“I know.”
“That’s all right then,” said Terence. “Would you like me to wait here?”
“You can wait anywhere you like,” said Rouse, “as long as you don’t come too.” He began to walk out of the door, then turned and spoke over his shoulder. “Yes,” he said rather more graciously, “I should rather like you to be here when I come back if you don’t mind waiting.”
He went out and closed the door behind him, then he began to walk quickly along the corridor and down the stairs. Out in the open he became an object of general interest. He was conscious that all who met him glanced at him in curiosity. He gave no sign of his feelings at all. He looked at one or two that he met and nodded to them cheerfully. At last he was opposite Seymour’s, and he went in and mounted the stairs two at a time.
Outside Coles’ study he stopped just for a second and knocked. Then he went in. At first there appeared to be nobody inside. But he glanced into the corner where an easy-chair was placed before the fire and observed a tuft of hair showing above it. He moved forward and leaned over. Coles was sitting there asleep. His mouth was open and his features limp. A plain young man awake, he was 207widely renowned36 for his extreme ugliness when asleep. Rouse dropped his hand on to his shoulder and shook him vigorously. There came a distant growling37. Rouse continued to shake.
“What on earth is it?” muttered the object in the chair, slowly opening his eyes. “Who wants me? Why don’t you——” He recognised Rouse with a start and stopped abruptly. “Hullo!” he said. He rose somewhat foolishly and began to smooth his hair with his hands. “I was asleep.”
“Yes,” said Rouse calmly. “So I noticed. I’m just about to put you to sleep again too.”
“Eh?”
Rouse explained.
“I’m going to hit you under the chin,” said he, “and I hope it’ll hurt. I thought you’d like to know.”
At first Coles only stared at him confusedly, but presently the effects of sleep began to pass from him, and he collected his thoughts and made ready to deal with the situation. He went over Rouse’s surprising statement word for word, in silent communion with his inner self, analysing it with evident care, and at length he looked up at Rouse queerly.
“You’re going to hit me under the chin? But why are you going to do that?”
He did not seem particularly disturbed at the prospect38. He was merely politely interested. Possibly this was because he was very well aware that he himself could box and that Rouse could not.
Rouse did not waste words. He laid that strangely significant sheet of paper upon the table rather as if it were a mandate39, and pointed40 at it wrathfully.
“I think you’ve seen that before?”
Coles leaned forward indifferently.
“What is it? I can’t see.”
208Next moment it was thrust angrily before his eyes and held there.
“Can you see it now?” said Rouse. “Is that your composition?”
Coles read it through coolly.
“Are you under the impression that I wrote this?”
“I know who wrote it,” said Rouse. “I’m asking you whether you made it up.”
Coles weighed his answer with care.
“If I wanted to write a note to you I should put my name to it. This has been written by some kid.”
Rouse folded the paper up and put it in his pocket with some deliberation.
“We won’t argue about it. I didn’t really expect you to admit the truth. But I wanted to mention it to you so that you’d understand what the trouble was about. There’s another thing as well. Can you tell me how the Head found out that everybody who played in the match yesterday had promised to take a fair share of the blame if there were any trouble?”
“I wasn’t even aware that he did find out.”
“Well, he did. And that’s one reason why he decided to punish the whole school by sending Mr Nicholson away. I suppose, as a matter of fact, you told Roe?”
Coles pushed his chair angrily away from him and faced Rouse across a clear space. When next he spoke his voice was thick. His wicked temper was rising rapidly beyond control.
“Is this all you came in for? Did you butt41 in here and wake me up just to chuck lies at me, or is there anything else you want to say? If not you can get out, and as quickly as you like. You may think you’re still captain of footer, and you may think sheer swank will carry you through to the end of the term. But it won’t go much further with me. I’ve had enough of it. Either get out or apologise.”
“I THINK YOU’VE SEEN THAT BEFORE?”
209Rouse drew back a little. He was slowly turning up the sleeves of his jacket.
“I came in here to hit you under the chin. As soon as you’re ready I’ll begin.”
Coles looked at him with a certain narrow satisfaction, then pushed the table to one side and moved a chair.
“You can see how much space there is here. You’ll have to stand up to it. It won’t be much use running round the room when you find how it hurts.”
Then as he put up his hands Rouse stepped in without delay and struck at him with his clenched42 fist. What followed was very much what might have been expected. For a little while Rouse appeared likely to slaughter43 his man before the fight had really got going. His blows knew the utter fury of one who fights with right upon his side but very little science. Any one of these blows would, had they landed fairly and squarely upon their target, have put Coles down and out. Unhappily they were all partly warded44 off. Coles merely seemed to stand aside and watch Rouse interestedly as he strove to find an opening, and at last, when the opportunity arose, he hit back at him with all his force and brought him up short.
As Rouse came in again Coles took up the defensive45 r?le once more. He had never shown better form. The cramped46 nature of the room prevented any possibility of footwork. It was incumbent47 upon him to stand his ground and fight, and this seldom suits a boxer who can use his feet, but Coles suited himself to the circumstances with outstanding success. His temper, which a few moments ago had been at fever heat, slowly cooled off as he found himself gaining the upper hand. The thought that a few moments hence he would have Rouse at his mercy acted as a sedative48 upon him, and presently he smiled. Rouse noticed it and drew back for a breather, collecting 210his energy the while for a greater and fiercer onslaught yet. Next moment Coles’ left shot out and tilted49 back his head. The pain of the blow was considerable, but in his present mood it counted with Rouse as naught50. He set his teeth, adopted a new pose and prepared to dash in again. Before he had finally made up his mind, however, which hand to hit with, that long left had come out again and drawn51 a trickle52 of blood from his nose. He moved forward wrathfully and suddenly let fly with his own left. Coles caught the blow neatly53 with his elbow and slammed in a right swung. For a second or so it seemed to Rouse that his neck had been broken. He was not at all sure where he was. It came to him quite suddenly that he had fallen sideways and hit his head against the wall, so he straightened himself with an almost deprecating smile and put up his hands again.
Just as before Coles’ left shot out and tapped his nose. Rouse became decidedly annoyed. He sprang in and swung up his fist towards Coles’ chin. To hit Coles on the chin was all he had come for, and he could see no reason for delaying any longer. The blow never landed. Coles merely tilted his head tauntingly54 out of reach and countered again with his right. Rouse swayed giddily backwards55 and was brought up straight again by a blow in the middle of the waistcoat. Then for a few short moments he stood still, considering the situation in a puzzled manner whilst he faced Coles with a badly bleeding countenance and glassy eyes. The worst of a fight with bare fists is that it makes such a mess. He could feel that his face was rapidly growing unsightly; he was aware that blood was dripping down his chin and on to his collar. Unfortunately he could do nothing to stop it.
He had had no fights since his early youth. Coles was hitting very straight and cruelly hard. He 211seemed to be planting blows on the same place over and over again too. Rouse could tell that from the pain of their landing.
At last he found himself rocking groggily56 on his pins and he pulled himself together sharply, and when next Coles came at him he struck out lustily with either hand. One blow landed and he was delighted beyond measure. The other was somehow lost in mid-air, and before he could puzzle out what had happened Coles had hit him again with his straight left and dazed his thinking powers.
Rouse’s eyes recovered their normal vision slowly, and he looked before him. The walls seemed to be caving in, the chairs and the tables were dancing before his eyes. Coles looked disproportionate and rather horrible. He wondered if all this meant that he was going to be beaten. He could not believe it. To be licked by Coles, particularly when it was he himself who had started the fight, would be the last drop in his cup of bitterness. He dimly conceived what he would feel like when the news went round the school. What would Nick say when he crept back with a disfigured countenance and a look of shame? These thoughts passed through his mind at high speed but with peculiar clearness, and their effect was immediate57. He poised58 himself squarely upon his feet. Somehow or other he had got to hit Coles on the chin, and if he could not do it by attack then he would do it by countering with all his force each time Coles himself came in. As he waited he furtively59 wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips were very bruised60. One of his teeth was loose. He felt quietly angry and decidedly disappointed. But under no circumstances whatever would he give in. He was not going to admit defeat even if it were pointed out to him whilst he lay stiffly outstretched upon the floor. In point of fact he found himself wondering whether there would be 212room for him to lie stiffly on that particular floor anyway. He very nearly smiled at that. Then with sudden resolution Coles was moving forward. To Rouse he seemed strangely magnified. He came with a watchful61 attitude, his eyes brightly ashine, his clenched fists ready as if for a final blow. Rouse made preparation. With alarming suddenness Coles was on top of him. His fists were striking out with terrible intent. They were landing almost as they liked. Rouse rocked this way and that. At last he caught a sudden glimpse of Coles’ face for once temptingly exposed, and he hit out on the spur of the moment. His fist landed gloriously, and with delightful62 accuracy, upon the chin, and he gave a sigh of content. Whatever else happened now he had at least done what he had come for. He had hit Coles on the chin. The blow gave him a second’s respite63. He had evidently hurt Coles a good deal. Yet in the end it availed him little. Before the faint smile of satisfaction had died from his lips Coles was up against him again, driving at his face with long arms that could not be properly avoided. He fell forward, and finding himself leaning against Coles’ waistcoat, struck at it cheerfully with each hand in turn, and heard Coles grunt64 distressfully. He drew back to give himself more room. Coles was a little unsteady upon his feet.
They could face each other now upon more level terms. Rouse watched him closely, wondering what his next move would be. His own strength was giving out and he had no intention of wasting it in fruitless attacks.
Then Coles began to spar for an opening. Rouse waited dubiously65, not knowing quite what this portended66. He received a blow full in the mouth with the utmost surprise, and found himself falling backwards against the wall again. He strove to stand upright. Coles’ chin showed again for one moment clearly 213exposed, and he struck at it with all the enthusiasm which he still possessed67, but the blow only half landed. Then he became suddenly angry at the absurdity68 of fighting in the preposterous69 amount of space afforded by Coles’ study. In his last tumble he had barked his leg against a fallen chair. Unless his eyesight deceived him there was not a picture in all the room that was hanging straight.
Blood had splashed across a part of the wall-paper.
But he remembered again that after all it had been he who had started the fight. It was his own fault.
Coles was coming again. Rouse strove to stand steadily70. His face was to be the target again. He could see severe intention in Coles’ face. But now resolve came to him anew. He would not be knocked out. He would fight to the end. So long as he stood up he could not be considered beaten. He looked for Coles with fiery71 eyes and smote72 at him. Coles was grinning. As he smote that grin vanished suddenly, and he knew that he had got home. He steadied himself and smote again. Again he landed nicely. Then it was Coles’ turn. He struck cleanly, and once again Rouse tumbled sideways. His hand went out and found the wall, and he steadied himself like that for a moment, then turned and looked for Coles again. He began to wish he had taken off his coat. He might have done better. He was uncomfortably hot. There was a nasty taste in his mouth. His eyes were closing. His head sang. He was giddy. Coles caught him in the face. He rocked a little more. At last he began to slither foolishly down the wall. Half-way he stopped, one hand propping73 him up. He tried to give himself a shove off towards Coles, and floundered towards him hopefully. Coles loomed74 up against him with fists like small hams feeling their way towards his face again. One of them landed with a resounding75 smack76. He sank down on to the floor and stayed 214there for a moment. At last he got up. Coles said nothing. He just got ready to hit again.
Rouse saw it coming. He would not be beaten. He struck out for himself gamely, missed, and hit again. Coles got in the way of that last one and received it on the chin, and Rouse tried to follow it up. He was half afraid that if Coles hit him again he would succumb77. He drew away from the friendliness78 of the wall and tumbled against the table. They were out in the only clear space in the room again at last, and, facing Coles, he saw him preparing for a final blow; he put up his tired hands doggedly79, leaned forward and struck at the dim shadow that was Coles, but the shadow slipped aside. Then he received a thudding blow in the mouth, heard himself give an unwitting sob80 of despair, felt himself falling. He was on the floor. He tried to get up. His limbs would not answer his behests. He kicked out uselessly with one leg trying to find support. At last he lay still.
When at length he came vaguely81 to his senses and looked round and about, Coles was sitting on the table staring at him sullenly82.
He noticed with interest that Coles was marked about the face rather more heavily than he had supposed. Then he closed his eyes again. At last he struggled up. He looked for Coles politely, found himself standing1 with his back towards him, and turned.
“Well,” he said, “I’d misjudged things. You can box and I can’t. You were too hot for me. If you don’t mind we’ll go on with this another day. And between now and then I’ll learn to box too.”
Coles looked at him contemptuously.
“You’re too late,” said he. “There isn’t going to 215be any boxing. It’s knocked on the head. That’s one of the thoughtful things you’ve done for the school, and I hope you’re satisfied.”
Rouse turned and went out. The corridor was deserted84 and he was grateful. He was not anxious to be seen coming out of Coles’ study like that. He went unsteadily down the stairs and out into the open. The cold wind cut at the broken skin bitterly, but now he held his head high and went almost proudly across the open towards Morley’s. He was not of the type that show their inner feelings to one and all. He knew that fellows of all kinds and conditions in Harley would be looking to him for a lead as to the correct behaviour at this final crisis, and he must set the right example. It was possible that they might think his face had suffered like that in the match, and in any case he was not going to look ashamed about it. Even when Coles began to boast, and people came to know that he had picked a quarrel with Coles and had got a hiding, there were only a very few in the school who would not understand that Coles could box and he couldn’t.
He came at last to his own study and went in. Toby had gone, but Terence rose from a chair and moved towards him. He took one glance at Rouse and turned away. There was a moment’s silence. Rouse went to the table and sat down. He was trembling a little. His hands would not keep still. At last he looked up.
Presently he made his confession85.
“He put me down,” said he.
“Often?” asked Terence gently.
“Yes. Quite often.”
Terence nodded his head sympathetically. He saw that there was no need for words.
At last Rouse leaned his elbows upon the table and buried his battered86 face in his hands. There was nobody but Terence there to see, so what did it 216matter? He was suddenly brave no more ... he was speaking his inner feelings.
“This is the term that was to have been an unbeaten season, and it’s come to pieces in our hands.” He waited. The room was very silent. “The chaps haven’t got to look far to see what I’ve done for the school. I’ve ruined the footer, and now because of me every game that a man can think of has been stopped, and I’ve got Toby the sack—the finest fellow who ever stepped. Last of all I’ve had a licking from the fellow who always said that I wasn’t any good. What will the school say to that? Perhaps now they’ll see through me. Perhaps they’ll turn to somebody else. Supposing it’s Coles? I wonder whether it’s too late to get the Head to do the right thing.... P’r’aps if I did something outside the pale he might expel me—and keep Toby.”
Terence moved to him quickly.
“Listen,” he began. “Don’t talk like that. You’re forgetting. You promised Toby you’d hang on. Every chap in the school’s looking to you for a lead. And the side that wins this fight will be the side that can stick it out. You’re not going to weaken—now. This is the crisis. Every day we’re giving him more rope. Maybe he’ll hang himself if we only hang on. But if we give in now he’s won.”
There was silence. Rouse did not look up.
“Toby’s going to-morrow, and he told me to tell you the Head will find that the worst thing he ever did was to send him away. Toby’s not the only old Harleyan. Some of the others have influence. Lots of them have brothers here now—and sons. Sooner or later there’ll be a thundering row. I’ve got an idea Toby’s going to get amongst them and that all this will work out to the Head’s destruction. But we’ve got to stick it out. You see that, don’t you? If you were to get expelled—we should have lost. 217We’ve got to play a safe game till Toby gets to work.”
He stopped.
Rouse got slowly to his feet.
“Yes,” he said at last, “that’s right. We’ve got to stick it out.”
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1
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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2
surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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3
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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4
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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5
instructors
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| 指导者，教师( instructor的名词复数 ) | |
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6
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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7
aggravate
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| vt.加重(剧)，使恶化；激怒，使恼火 | |
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8
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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9
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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10
hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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11
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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12
sergeants
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| 警官( sergeant的名词复数 )； （美国警察）警佐； （英国警察）巡佐； 陆军（或空军）中士 | |
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13
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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14
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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15
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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16
roe
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| n.鱼卵；獐鹿 | |
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17
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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18
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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19
snip
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| n.便宜货，廉价货，剪，剪断 | |
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20
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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21
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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22
purported
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| adj.传说的，谣传的v.声称是…，（装得）像是…的样子( purport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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24
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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26
humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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27
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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28
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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29
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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30
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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31
intentional
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| adj.故意的，有意（识）的 | |
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32
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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33
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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34
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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35
boxer
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| n.制箱者，拳击手 | |
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36
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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37
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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38
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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39
mandate
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| n.托管地；命令，指示 | |
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40
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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41
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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42
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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44
warded
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| 有锁孔的，有钥匙榫槽的 | |
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45
defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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46
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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47
incumbent
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| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
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48
sedative
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| adj.使安静的，使镇静的；n. 镇静剂，能使安静的东西 | |
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49
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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50
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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51
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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52
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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53
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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54
tauntingly
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| 嘲笑地，辱骂地； 嘲骂地 | |
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55
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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56
groggily
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| adv.酒醉地；东倒西歪地 | |
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57
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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58
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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59
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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60
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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61
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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62
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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63
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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64
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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65
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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66
portended
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| v.预示( portend的过去式和过去分词 )；预兆；给…以警告；预告 | |
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67
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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68
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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69
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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70
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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71
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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72
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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73
propping
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| 支撑 | |
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74
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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75
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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76
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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77
succumb
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| v.屈服，屈从；死 | |
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78
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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79
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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80
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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81
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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82
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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83
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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84
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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85
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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86
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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