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Chapter 19 Paving The Way
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Bruce had been perfectly correct in his suspicions. Stanning's wristwas no more sprained than his ankle. The advisability of manufacturingan injury had come home to him very vividly on the Saturday morningfollowing the Ripton match, when he had read the brief report of thatpainful episode in that week's number of the _Field_ in the schoollibrary. In the list of the Ripton team appeared the name R. Peteiro.

  He had heard a great deal about the dusky Riptonian when Drummond hadbeaten him in the Feather-Weights the year before. Drummond hadreturned from Aldershot on that occasion cheerful, but in an extremelybattered condition. His appearance as he limped about the field onSports Day had been heroic, and, in addition, a fine advertisement forthe punishing powers of the Ripton champion. It is true that at leastone of his injuries had been the work of a Pauline whom he had met inthe opening bout; but the great majority were presents from Ripton, andDrummond had described the dusky one, in no uncertain terms, as a holyterror.

  These things had sunk into Stanning's mind. It had been generallyunderstood at Wrykyn that Peteiro had left school at Christmas. WhenStanning, through his study of the _Field_, discovered that theredoubtable boxer had been one of the team against which he had playedat Ripton, and realised that, owing to Drummond's illness, it wouldfall to him, if he won the House Competition, to meet this man of wrathat Aldershot, he resolved on the instant that the most persuasive ofwild horses should not draw him to that military centre on the day ofthe Public Schools Competition. The difficulty was that he particularlywished to win the House Cup. Then it occurred to him that he couldcombine the two things--win the competition and get injured while doingso.

  Accordingly, two days after the House Boxing he was observed to issuefrom Appleby's with his left arm slung in a first fifteen scarf. He wastoo astute to injure his right wrist. What happens to one's left wristat school is one's own private business. When one injures one's rightarm, and so incapacitates oneself for form work, the authorities beginto make awkward investigations.

  Mr Spence, who looked after the school's efforts to win medals atAldershot, was the most disappointed person in the place. He was anenthusiastic boxer--he had represented Cambridge in the Middle-Weightsin his day--and with no small trouble had succeeded in making boxing agoing concern at Wrykyn. Years of failure had ended, the Easter before,in a huge triumph, when O'Hara, of Dexter's and Drummond had won silvermedals, and Moriarty, of Dexter's, a bronze. If only somebody could wina medal this year, the tradition would be established, and would notsoon die out. Unfortunately, there was not a great deal of boxingtalent in the school just now. The rule that the winner at his weightin the House Competitions should represent the school at Aldershot onlyapplied if the winner were fairly proficient. Mr Spence exercised hisdiscretion. It was no use sending down novices to be massacred. Thisyear Drummond and Stanning were the only Wrykinians up to Aldershotform. Drummond would have been almost a certainty for a silver medal,and Stanning would probably have been a runner-up. And here they were,both injured; Wrykyn would not have a single representative at theQueen's Avenue Gymnasium. It would be a set-back to the cult of boxingat the school.

  Mr Spence was pondering over this unfortunate state of things whenSheen was shown in.

  "Can I speak to you for a minute, sir?" said Sheen.

  "Certainly, Sheen. Take one of those cig--I mean, sit down. What isit?"Sheen had decided how to open the interview before knocking at thedoor. He came to the point at once.

  "Do you think I could go down to Aldershot, sir?" he asked.

  Mr Spence looked surprised.

  "Go down? You mean--? Do you want to watch the competition? Really, Idon't know if the headmaster--""I mean, can I box?"Mr Spence's look of surprise became more marked.

  "Box?" he said. "But surely--I didn't know you were a boxer, Sheen.""I've only taken it up lately.""But you didn't enter for the House Competitions, did you? What weightare you?""Just under ten stone.""A light-weight. Why, Linton boxed for your house in the Light-Weightssurely?""Yes sir. They wouldn't let me go in.""You hurt yourself?""No, sir.""Then why wouldn't they let you go in?""Drummond thought Linton was better. He didn't know I boxed.""But--this is very curious. I don't understand it at all. You see, ifyou were not up to House form, you would hardly--At Aldershot, you see,you would meet the best boxers of all the public schools.""Yes, sir."There was a pause.

  "It was like this, sir," said Sheen nervously. "At the beginning of theterm there was a bit of a row down in the town, and I got mixed up init. And I didn't--I was afraid to join in. I funked it."Mr Spence nodded. He was deeply interested now. The office of confessoris always interesting.

  "Go on, Sheen. What happened then?""I was cut by everybody. The fellows thought I had let the house down,and it got about, and the other houses scored off them, so I had rathera rotten time."Here it occurred to him that he was telling his story without thatattention to polite phraseology which a master expects from a boy, sohe amended the last sentence.

  "I didn't have a very pleasant time, sir," was his correction.

  "Well?" said Mr Spence.

  "So I was a bit sick," continued Sheen, relapsing once more into thevernacular, "and I wanted to do something to put things right again,and I met--anyhow, I took up boxing. I wanted to box for the house, ifI was good enough. I practised every day, and stuck to it, and after abit I did become pretty good.""Well?""Then Drummond got mumps, and I wrote to him asking if I mightrepresent the house instead of him, and I suppose he didn't believe Iwas any good. At any rate, he wouldn't let me go in. Then Joe--a manwho knows something about boxing--suggested I should go down toAldershot.""Joe?" said Mr Spence inquiringly.

  Sheen had let the name slip out unintentionally, but it was too latenow to recall it.

  "Joe Bevan, sir," he said. "He used to be champion of England,light-weight.""Joe Bevan!" cried Mr Spence. "Really? Why, he trained me when I boxedfor Cambridge. He's one of the best of fellows. I've never seen any onewho took such trouble with his man. I wish we could get him here. So itwas Joe who suggested that you should go down to Aldershot? Well, heought to know. Did he say you would have a good chance?""Yes, sir.""My position is this, you see, Sheen. There is nothing I should likemore than to see the school represented at Aldershot. But I cannot letanyone go down, irrespective of his abilities. Aldershot is not child'splay. And in the Light-Weights you get the hardest fighting of all. Itwouldn't do for me to let you go down if you are not up to the properform. You would be half killed.""I should like to have a shot, sir," said Sheen.

  "Then this year, as you probably know, Ripton are sending down Peteirofor the Light-Weights. He was the fellow whom Drummond only just beatlast year. And you saw the state in which Drummond came back. IfDrummond could hardly hold him, what would you do?""I believe I could beat Drummond, sir," said Sheen.

  Mr Spence's eyes opened wider. Here were brave words. This youthevidently meant business. The thing puzzled him. On the one hand, Sheenhad been cut by his house for cowardice. On the other, Joe Bevan, whoof all men was best able to judge, had told him that he was good enoughto box at Aldershot.

  "Let me think it over, Sheen," he said. "This is a matter which Icannot decide in a moment. I will tell you tomorrow what I think aboutit.""I hope you will let me go down, sir," said Sheen. "It's my onechance.""Yes, yes, I see that, I see that," said Mr Spence, "but all thesame--well, I will think it over."All the rest of that evening he pondered over the matter, deeplyperplexed. It would be nothing less than cruel to let Sheen enter thering at Aldershot if he were incompetent. Boxing in the Public SchoolsBoxing Competition is not a pastime for the incompetent. But he wishedvery much that Wrykyn should be represented, and also he sympathisedwith Sheen's eagerness to wipe out the stain on his honour, and thehonour of the house. But, like Drummond, he could not help harbouring asuspicion that this was a pose. He felt that Sheen was intoxicated byhis imagination. Every one likes to picture himself doing dashingthings in the limelight, with an appreciative multitude to applaud.

  Would this mood stand the test of action?

  Against this there was the evidence of Joe Bevan. Joe had said thatSheen was worthy to fight for his school, and Joe knew.

  Mr Spence went to bed still in a state of doubt.

  Next morning he hit upon a solution of the difficulty. Wandering in thegrounds before school, he came upon O'Hara, who, as has been statedbefore, had won the Light-Weights at Aldershot in the previous year. Hehad come to Wrykyn for the Sports. Here was the man to help him. O'Harashould put on the gloves with Sheen and report.

  "I'm in rather a difficulty, O'Hara," he said, "and you can help me.""What's that?" inquired O'Hara.

  "You know both our light-weights are on the sick list? I had justresigned myself to going down to Aldershot without any one to box, whena boy in Seymour's volunteered for the vacant place. I don't know ifyou knew him at school? Sheen. Do you remember him?""Sheen?" cried O'Hara in amazement. "Not _Sheen_!"...

  His recollections of Sheen were not conducive to a picture of him as apublic-school boxer.

  "Yes. I had never heard of him as a boxer. Still, he seems very anxiousto go down, and he certainly has one remarkable testimonial, and asthere's no one else--""And what shall I do?" asked O'Hara.

  "I want you, if you will, to give him a trial in the dinner-hour. Justsee if he's any good at all. If he isn't, of course, don't hit himabout a great deal. But if he shows signs of being a useful man, extendhim. See what he can do.""Very well, sir," said O'Hara.

  "And you might look in at my house at tea-time, if you have nothingbetter to do, and tell me what you think of him."At five o'clock, when he entered Mr Spence's study, O'Hara's face worethe awe-struck look of one who had seen visions.

  "Well?" said Mr Spence. "Did you find him any good?""Good?" said O'Hara. "He'll beat them all. He's a champion. There'sno stopping him.""What an extraordinary thing!" said Mr Spence.



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