Trevor did not take long to resume a garb of civilisation. He neverwasted much time over anything. He was gifted with a boundless energy,which might possibly have made him unpopular had he not justified it byresults. The football of the school had never been in such aflourishing condition as it had attained to on his succeeding to thecaptaincy. It was not only that the first fifteen was good. Theexcellence of a first fifteen does not always depend on the captain.
But the games, even down to the very humblest junior game, had woken upone morning--at the beginning of the previous term--to find themselves,much to their surprise, organised going concerns. Like the immortalCaptain Pott, Trevor was "a terror to the shirker and the lubber". Andthe resemblance was further increased by the fact that he was "atoughish lot", who was "little, but steel and india-rubber". At firstsight his appearance was not imposing. Paterfamilias, who had heard hisson's eulogies on Trevor's performances during the holidays, and camedown to watch the school play a match, was generally ratherdisappointed on seeing five feet six where he had looked for at leastsix foot one, and ten stone where he had expected thirteen. But then,what there was of Trevor was, as previously remarked, steel andindia-rubber, and he certainly played football like a miniatureStoddart. It was characteristic of him that, though this was thefirst match of the term, his condition seemed to be as good aspossible. He had done all his own work on the field and most ofRand-Brown's, and apparently had not turned a hair. He was one ofthose conscientious people who train in the holidays.
When he had changed, he went down the passage to Clowes' study. Clowes wasin the position he frequently took up when the weather was good--wedgedinto his window in a sitting position, one leg in the study, the otherhanging outside over space. The indoor leg lacked a boot, so that it wasevident that its owner had at least had the energy to begin to change.
That he had given the thing up after that, exhausted with the effort, waswhat one naturally expected from Clowes. He would have made a splendidactor: he was so good at resting.
"Hurry up and dress," said Trevor; "I want you to come over to thebaths.""What on earth do you want over at the baths?""I want to see O'Hara.""Oh, yes, I remember. Dexter's are camping out there, aren't they? Iheard they were. Why is it?""One of the Dexter kids got measles in the last week of the holidays,so they shunted all the beds and things across, and the chaps went backthere instead of to the house."In the winter term the baths were always boarded over and convertedinto a sort of extra gymnasium where you could go and box or fence whenthere was no room to do it in the real gymnasium. Socker and stump-cricketwere also largely played there, the floor being admirably suited to suchgames, though the light was always rather tricky, and prevented heavyscoring.
"I should think," said Clowes, "from what I've seen of Dexter'sbeauties, that Dexter would like them to camp out at the bottom of thebaths all the year round. It would be a happy release for him if theywere all drowned. And I suppose if he had to choose any one of them fora violent death, he'd pick O'Hara. O'Hara must be a boon to ahouse-master. I've known chaps break rules when the spirit movedthem, but he's the only one I've met who breaks them all day longand well into the night simply for amusement. I've often thought ofwriting to the S.P.C.A. about it. I suppose you could call Dexter ananimal all right?""O'Hara's right enough, really. A man like Dexter would make any fellowrun amuck. And then O'Hara's an Irishman to start with, which makes adifference."There is usually one house in every school of the black sheep sort,and, if you go to the root of the matter, you will generally find thatthe fault is with the master of that house. A house-master who entersinto the life of his house, coaches them in games--if an athlete--or,if not an athlete, watches the games, umpiring at cricket andrefereeing at football, never finds much difficulty in keeping order.
It may be accepted as fact that the juniors of a house will never beorderly of their own free will, but disturbances in the junior day-roomdo not make the house undisciplined. The prefects are the criterion.
If you find them joining in the general "rags", and even startingprivate ones on their own account, then you may safely say that it istime the master of that house retired from the business, and took tochicken-farming. And that was the state of things in Dexter's. It wasthe most lawless of the houses. Mr Dexter belonged to a type of masteralmost unknown at a public school--the usher type. In a private schoolhe might have passed. At Wrykyn he was out of place. To him the wholeduty of a house-master appeared to be to wage war against his house.
When Dexter's won the final for the cricket cup in the summer term oftwo years back, the match lasted four afternoons--four solid afternoonsof glorious, up-and-down cricket. Mr Dexter did not see a single ball ofthat match bowled. He was prowling in sequestered lanes and broken-downbarns out of bounds on the off-chance that he might catch some member ofhis house smoking there. As if the whole of the house, from the head tothe smallest fag, were not on the field watching Day's best bats collapsebefore Henderson's bowling, and Moriarty hit up that marvellous andunexpected fifty-three at the end of the second innings!
That sort of thing definitely stamps a master.
"What do you want to see O'Hara about?" asked Clowes.
"He's got my little gold bat. I lent it him in the holidays."A remark which needs a footnote. The bat referred to was made of gold,and was about an inch long by an eighth broad. It had come intoexistence some ten years previously, in the following manner. Theinter-house cricket cup at Wrykyn had originally been a rathertarnished and unimpressive vessel, whose only merit consisted in thefact that it was of silver. Ten years ago an Old Wrykinian, suddenlyreflecting that it would not be a bad idea to do something for theschool in a small way, hied him to the nearest jeweller's and purchasedanother silver cup, vast withal and cunningly decorated with filigreework, and standing on a massive ebony plinth, round which were littlesilver lozenges just big enough to hold the name of the winning houseand the year of grace. This he presented with his blessing to becompeted for by the dozen houses that made up the school of Wrykyn, andit was formally established as the house cricket cup. The question nowarose: what was to be done with the other cup? The School House, whohappened to be the holders at the time, suggested disinterestedly thatit should become the property of the house which had won it last. "Notso," replied the Field Sports Committee, "but far otherwise. We willhave it melted down in a fiery furnace, and thereafter fashioned intoeleven little silver bats. And these little silver bats shall be theguerdon of the eleven members of the winning team, to have and to holdfor the space of one year, unless, by winning the cup twice insuccession, they gain the right of keeping the bat for yet anotheryear. How is that, umpire?" And the authorities replied, "O men ofinfinite resource and sagacity, verily is it a cold day when _you_get left behind. Forge ahead." But, when they had forged ahead, behold!
it would not run to eleven little silver bats, but only to ten littlesilver bats. Thereupon the headmaster, a man liberal with his cash,caused an eleventh little bat to be fashioned--for the captain of thewinning team to have and to hold in the manner aforesaid. And, tosingle it out from the others, it was wrought, not of silver, but ofgold. And so it came to pass that at the time of our story Trevor wasin possession of the little gold bat, because Donaldson's had won thecup in the previous summer, and he had captained them--and,incidentally, had scored seventy-five without a mistake.
"Well, I'm hanged if I would trust O'Hara with my bat," said Clowes,referring to the silver ornament on his own watch-chain; "he's probablypawned yours in the holidays. Why did you lend it to him?""His people wanted to see it. I know him at home, you know. They askedme to lunch the last day but one of the holidays, and we got talkingabout the bat, because, of course, if we hadn't beaten Dexter's in thefinal, O'Hara would have had it himself. So I sent it over next daywith a note asking O'Hara to bring it back with him here.""Oh, well, there's a chance, then, seeing he's only had it so littletime, that he hasn't pawned it yet. You'd better rush off and get itback as soon as possible. It's no good waiting for me. I shan't beready for weeks.""Where's Paget?""Teaing with Donaldson. At least, he said he was going to.""Then I suppose I shall have to go alone. I hate walking alone.""If you hurry," said Clowes, scanning the road from his post ofvantage, "you'll be able to go with your fascinating pal Ruthven. He'sjust gone out."Trevor dashed downstairs in his energetic way, and overtook the youthreferred to.
Clowes brooded over them from above like a sorrowful and ratherdisgusted Providence. Trevor's liking for Ruthven, who was aDonaldsonite like himself, was one of the few points on which the twohad any real disagreement. Clowes could not understand how any personin his senses could of his own free will make an intimate friend ofRuthven.
"Hullo, Trevor," said Ruthven.
"Come over to the baths," said Trevor, "I want to see O'Hara aboutsomething. Or were you going somewhere else.""I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I never know what to do interm-time. It's deadly dull."Trevor could never understand how any one could find term-time dull.
For his own part, there always seemed too much to do in the time.
"You aren't allowed to play games?" he said, remembering somethingabout a doctor's certificate in the past.
"No," said Ruthven. "Thank goodness," he added.
Which remark silenced Trevor. To a person who thanked goodness that hewas not allowed to play games he could find nothing to say. But heceased to wonder how it was that Ruthven was dull.
They proceeded to the baths together in silence. O'Hara, they wereinformed by a Dexter's fag who met them outside the door, was notabout.
"When he comes back," said Trevor, "tell him I want him to come to teatomorrow directly after school, and bring my bat. Don't forget."The fag promised to make a point of it.
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