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Cock-House at Fellsgarth

<h3>Chapter Eleven.</h3> <h4>Fellsgarth versus Rendlesham.</h4> How it came that Rollitt played, after all, in the Rendlesham match, no one could properly understand. His name was not down on the original list. Yorke had given up asking him to play, as he always either excused himself, or, what was worse, promised to come and failed at the last moment. After the defeat of the Moderns at the second election, the question of the selection of the fifteen had been allowed to drop; and those who were keen on victory hoped no further difficulty would arise. Two days before the match, however, Brinkman was unlucky enough to hurt his foot, and to his great mortification was forbidden by the doctor to play. The news of his accident caused general consternation, as he was known to be a good forward and a useful man in a scrimmage. Clapperton increased the difficulty by coming over to say that as Brinkman was laid up, he had arranged for Corder to play instead. Corder, as it happened, was a Modern senior, a small fellow, and reputed an indifferent player. “He wouldn’t do at all,” said Yorke, decisively. “Why not? Surely we’ve got a right to find a substitute for our own man,” said Clapperton, testily. “What do you mean by your own man? Who cares twopence whose man he is, as long as he plays up? The fifteen are Fellsgarth men, and no more yours than they are mine.” “If they were as much mine as yours no one would complain.” “You mean to say that if you were captain of the fifteen you’d put Corder in the team for a first-class match?” “Why not? There are plenty worse than he.” “There are so many better, that he is out of the question.” “That means only five of our men are to play against ten of yours.” “You’re talking rot, Clapperton, and you know it. If I’m captain, I’ll choose my own team. If you don’t like it, or if the best fifteen men in the school aren’t in it, you are welcome to complain. I hope you will.” “It strikes me pretty forcibly our fellows won’t fancy being snubbed like this. It would be a bad job if they showed as much on the day of the match.” “It would be a bad job—for them,” said the captain. When Yorke repeated this disagreeable conversation to his friends later on, they pulled long faces. “I suppose he means they don’t intend to play up,” said Dalton. “If that’s so,” said Fisher major, “why not cut them all out and make up the fifteen of fellows you can depend on?” “That wouldn’t do,” said Yorke. “I expect when the time comes they’ll play up all right. After all, Clapperton and Fullerton are two of our best men.” “But what about the vacant place?” “I’ve four or five names all better than Corder,” said the captain, “but none of them as good as Brinkman.” The company generally, it is to be feared, did not lament as honestly as Yorke did, the accident to their rival. They did not profess to rejoice, of course; still they bore the blow with equanimity. Next morning, to the astonishment of everybody, the notice board contained an abrupt announcement in the captain’s hand, that in consequence of Brinkman’s inability to play, Rollitt would take his place in the fifteen. Yorke himself could not account for this sudden act of patriotism. Rollitt, he said, had looked into his room last night at bedtime and said— “I’ll play on Saturday,” and vanished. Fisher minor was perhaps, of all persons, better able to explain the mystery than any one else. He had overheard in Ranger’s study a general lamentation about the prospects for Saturday, and a wish expressed by his brother that Rollitt were not so unsociable and undependable. Everybody agreed it was utterly useless to ask him to play, and that they would have to get a second-rate man to fill the empty place, and so most probably lose the match. Fisher minor heard all this, and when presently, on his way to his own den, he passed Rollitt’s door, a tremendous resolution seized him to take upon himself the duty of ambassador extraordinary for the School. Rollitt appeared to owe him no grudge for throwing stones the other day, and had already come to his relief handsomely at the time of the second election and in the affair with Dangle. On the whole, Fisher minor thought he might venture. Rollitt was reading hard by the light of one small candle when he entered. “Please, Rollitt,” said the boy, “would you ever mind playing for the School on Saturday?” Rollitt looked up in such evident alarm that Fisher major put his hand on the latch of the door, and made ready to bolt. “I’ll see—get out,” said Rollitt. And Fisher minor did get out. It was really too absurd to suppose that Rollitt was going to play in the fifteen to oblige Fisher minor. So at least thought that young gentleman, and remained discreetly silent about his interview, hoping devoutly no one would hear of it. The joy of the Classics was almost equal to the fury of the Moderns. The latter could not deny that Rollitt was a host in himself, and worth a dozen Corders. Yet it galled them to see him quietly put in the vacant place, and to hear the jubilation on every hand. For Rollitt was the fellow who had publicly insulted the Moderns in the person of Dangle; and not only that, but—poor and shabby as he was—had shown himself utterly indifferent to their indignation and contemptuous of their threats. “Why,” Dangle said, “the fellow’s a pauper! he can’t even pay for his clubs! His father’s a common fellow, I’m told.” “Yes, and I heard,” said Brinkman, “his fees up here are paid for him. Why, we might just as well have Bob in the fifteen.” “A jolly sight better. Bob knows how to be civil.” “It is a crime to be poor,” said Fullerton. “I hope I shall never commit it.” “Well,” said Clapperton, ignoring this bit of sarcasm, “if he was well enough off to buy a cake of soap once a term, it wouldn’t be so bad. I believe when he wants a wash he goes down to Mrs Wisdom and borrows a bit of hers.” “By the way, that reminds me,” said Dangle; “did you fellows ever hear about Mrs Wisdom’s boat? The lout had it out the other day in the rapids, and let it go over the falls, and it got smashed up.” “What!” exclaimed everybody. “Do you mean,” said Brinkman, “poor Widow Wisdom has lost her boat owing to that cad? Why, she’ll be ruined? However is she to get a new one?” “That’s the extraordinary thing,” said Dangle. “It was she told me about it. She says that Rollitt went straight away to the lake and bought her a boat that was for sale there; and she’s got it now down in the lower reach; and it’s a better one than the other.” “What!” exclaimed Clapperton, incredulously; “Rollitt bought a new boat! Bosh!” “It was a second-hand one for sale cheap. But it cost five pounds. She showed me the receipt.” “Stuff and nonsense. She was gammoning you,” said Clapperton. “All right,” said Dangle, snappishly; “you’re not obliged to believe it unless you like.” And there the conversation ended. The day of the great match came at last. The Rendlesham men, who had to come from a distance, were not due till one o’clock, and, as may be imagined, the interval was peculiarly trying to some of the inhabitants of Fellsgarth. The farce of morning school was an ordeal alike to masters and boys. If gazing up at the clouds could bring down the rain, a deluge should have fallen before 10 a.m. As the hour approached the impatience rose to fever heat. It was the first match of the season. For the last three years the two teams had met in deadly combat, and each time the match had ended in a draw, with not one goal kicked on either side. Victory or defeat to-day would be a crisis in the history of Fellsgarth. Woe betide the man who missed a point or blundered a kick! Percy and his friends put on flannels in honour of the occasion and sallied out an hour before the time to look at the ground and inspect the new goal and flag posts which Fisher major, as the first act of his treasurership, had ordered for the School. It disgusted them somewhat to find that Wally and his friends—also in flannels—were on the spot before them, and, having surveyed the new acquisitions, had calmly bagged the four front central seats in the pavilion reserved by courtesy for the head-master and his ladies. Since the tea at Mr Stratton’s, the juniors had abated somewhat of their immemorial feud, although the relations were still occasionally subject to tension. “Hullo, you kids,” cried Wally, as his brother approached, “how do you do? Pretty well this morning? That’s right—so are we. Have a seat? Plenty of room in the second row.” Considering that no one had yet put in an appearance, this was strictly correct. Yet it did not please the Modern juniors. “You’ll get jolly well turned out when Ringwood comes,” said Percy. “Come on, you chaps,” added he to his own friends. “What’s the use of sitting on a bench like schoolboys an hour before the time? Let’s have a trot.” “Mind you don’t dirty your white bags,” cried D’Arcy. “No, we might be mistaken for Classic kids if we did,” shouted Cottle. “Ha, ha!” Whereupon, and not before time, the friends parted for a while. When Percy and Co. returned, they found the pavilion was filling up, and, greatly to their delight, the front row was empty. The enemy had been cleared out; and serve them right. “Come on, you chaps,” said Lickford; “don’t let’s get stuck in there. Come over to the oak tree, and get up there. It’s the best view in the field.” Alas! when they got to the oak tree, four friendly voices hailed them from among the leaves. “How are you, Modern kids? There’s a ripping view up here. Have an acorn? Mind your eye. Sorry we’re full up. Plenty of room up the poplar tree.” The Moderns scorned to reply, and walked back sulkily to the pavilion, not without parting greetings from their friends up the oak tree, and squatted themselves on the steps. The place was filling up now. Mrs Stratton was there with some visitors. All the little Wakefields were there, of course—“minor, minimus, and minimissima,” as they were called—uttering war-whoops in honour of their house. And there was a knot of Rendlesham fellows talking among themselves and generally taking stock of the Fellsgarth form. Mr Stratton, in civilian dress, as became the umpire, was the first representative of the School to show up on the grass. A distant cheer from the top of the oak tree hailed his arrival, and louder cheers still from the steps of the pavilion indicated that the popular master was not the private property of any faction in Fellsgarth. To Fisher minor it was amazing how Mr Stratton could talk and laugh as pleasantly as he did with the umpire for the other side. He felt sure he could not have done it himself. Suddenly it occurred to Fisher minor, by what connection of ideas he could not tell, what an awful thing it would be if Rollitt were to forget about the match. The horror of the idea, which had all the weight of a presentiment, sent the colour from his cheeks, and without a word to anybody he slid down the tree and began to run with all his might towards the school. “What’s the row—collywobbles!” asked D’Arcy. But no one was in a position to answer. A fusillade of acorns from the tree, and derisive compliments of “Well run!” “Bravo, Short-legs!” from the pavilion steps, greeted the runner as he passed that warm corner. He didn’t care. Even the captain and his own brother, whom he met going down to the field of battle, did not divert him. He rushed panting up the stairs and into Rollitt’s study. Rollitt was sitting at the table taking observations of a crumb of bread through a microscope. “Rollitt,” gasped the boy, “the match! It’s just beginning, and you promised to play. Do come, or we shall be licked!” Rollitt took a further look at the crumb and then got up. “I forgot,” said he; “come on, Fisher minor.” “Aren’t you going to put on flannels?” asked the boy. “Why!” said Rollitt roughly, stalking out. Fisher minor wondered if the reason was that he had none. But he was too full of his mission to trouble about that, and, keeping his prize well in sight, for fear he should go astray, had the satisfaction of seeing him arrive on the field of battle just as the opposing forces were taking their places, and just as the Classic seniors were inwardly calling themselves fools for having depended for a moment on a hopeless fellow of this sort. The Classic juniors felt a good deal compromised by the champion’s shabby cloth trousers and flannel shirt, but they cheered lustily all the same, while the Moderns, having expressed their indignation to one another, relieved their feelings by laughing. But a moment after, everybody forgot everything but the match. The Rendlesham men looked very trim and dangerous in their black and white uniform; and when presently their captain led off with a magnificent place-kick which flew almost into the School lines, Classics and Moderns forgot their differences and squirmed with a common foreboding. Fullerton promptly returned the ball into medias res, and the usual inaugural scrimmage ensued. To the knowing ones, who judged from little things, it seemed that the present match was likely to be as even as any of its predecessors. The forwards were about equally weighted, and the quarter and half-backs who hovered outside seemed equally alert and light-footed. Presently the ball squeezed out on the School side and gave Ranger the first chance of a run. He used it well, and with Fisher major and Yorke on his flanks got well past the Rendlesham forwards amid loud cheers from the oak tree. But the enemy’s quarter-back pinned him in a moment; yet not before he had passed the ball neatly to Fisher on his left. Fisher struggled on a few yards further with the captain and Dangle backing up, but had to relinquish the ball to the former before he could reach the half-backs. Yorke, always wary and cool-headed, had measured the forces against him, and as soon as he had the ball, ran back a step or two, to break the ugly rush of two of the enemy who were nearest, and then with a sweep distanced them, and charging through their half-backs made a dash for the goal. For a moment friend and foe held their breath. He looked like doing it. But in his détour he had given time for Blackstone, the Rendlesham fast runner, to get under way and sweep down to meet him just as he reeled out of the clutches of the half-backs. Next moment Yorke was down, and Dangle was not there to pick up the ball. This rush served pretty well to exhibit the strong and weak points of either side. It was evident, for instance, that both Ranger and Yorke were men to be marked by the other side, and that Dangle, on the contrary, was playing slack. A series of scrimmages followed, in the midst of which the ball gravitated back to the centre of the field. Runs were attempted on either side; once or twice the ball went out into touch, and once or twice a drop-kick sent it flying over the forwards’ heads. But it came back inevitably, so that after twenty minutes’ hard play it lay in almost the identical spot from which it had first been kicked off. The onlookers began to feel a little depressed. It was not to be a walk-over for the School, at any rate. Indeed, it seemed doubtful whether from the last and toughest of these scrimmages the ball would ever emerge again to the light of day. Suddenly, however; it become evident that the status quo was about to give way, and that the fortunes of either side were going to take a new turn. No one in the game, still less outside, could at first tell what had happened. Then it occurred to Yorke and one or two others that Rollitt, who had hitherto been playing listlessly and sleepily, was waking up. His head, high above his fellows, was seen violently agitated in the middle of the scrimmage, and presently it struggled forward till it came to where the ball lay. A moment later, the Rendlesham side of the scrimmage showed signs of breaking, and a moment after that Rollitt, quickly picking up the ball, burst through both friend and foe. “Back up, Dangle! back up, Ranger!” shouted Yorke. “Look out behind!” cried the Rendlesham captain. Rollitt carried that ball pretty much as he had carried Dangle a day or two before, almost contemptuously, indifferent as to who opposed him or who got in his way. The only difference was that whereas he then walked, now he ran. And when Rollitt chose to run, as Fellsgarth knew, even Ranger, the swift-footed, was not in it. The enemy’s forwards were shaken off, and their quarter-backs distanced. The half-backs closed on him with a simultaneous charge that made him reel. But he kept his feet better than they, and staggered on with one of them hanging to his arm. “Look out in goal!” shouted the Rendlesham men. “Back up, you fellows!” cried Yorke. In his struggle with the man on his arm, Rollitt lost pace enough to enable Blackstone to overtake and make a wild dash, not at the man, but the ball. The onslaught was partly successful, for the ball fell. Dangle, who was close behind, made an attempt to pick it up, but before he could do so, Rollitt, like a hound momentarily checked, dashed back to recover it himself, knocking over, as he did so, both Dangle and Blackstone. He had it again, and once more was off, this time with only the enemy’s back to intercept him. The back did his best, and sacrificed himself nobly for his side, but he was no match for the Fellsgarth giant, who simply rode over him, and followed by a mighty roar of cheering from the onlookers, carried the ball behind the goals, touching it down with almost fastidious precision exactly half-way between the poles. A minute later and Yorke, with one of his beautifully neat “places,” had sent the ball spinning over the bar, as unmistakable a goal as the School had ever kicked. The cheers which followed this exploit were completely lost on Rollitt, who, having completed his run, dawdled back to his fellow-forwards, and had not even the curiosity to watch the issue of the captain’s kick. As the sides changed ends, Dangle, with a black face, came up to him. “You knocked me over on purpose then, you cad, I could see it!” snarled he. “Get out!” said Rollitt, shouldering the speaker aside. This was too much for Dangle. Full of rage, he went to Yorke. “I don’t mean to stand this, Yorke. Rollitt—” “Shut up!” said the captain. “Spread out, you fellows, and be ready. Go to your place, Dangle.” Dangle sullenly obeyed. “I’ll let you see if I’m to be insulted and made a fool of before all the school,” growled he. “Catch me bothering myself any more.” As if to give him an opportunity of enforcing his protest, the kick-off of the losing side fell close at his feet. He picked it up, and for a moment the sporting instinct prompted him to make a rush. But he caught sight of Yorke and Rollitt both looking his way, and the bad blood in him prevailed. He deliberately sent the ball with a little side-kick into Blackstone’s hands, who, running forward a step, sent it, with a mighty drop, right over the School line. It almost grazed the goal post as it passed, and it was all Fullerton could do to save the touch-down before the whole advance guard of the enemy were upon him. The whole thing had been so wilfully done that there was no mistaking its meaning. “Hold the ball!” cried Yorke, as the side ranged out for the kick-off. “Dangle, get off the field.” “What do you mean?” said Dangle, very white. “What I say. You’ll either do that or be kicked off.” Here Clapperton interposed. “Don’t go, Dangle; he’s no right to turn you off or talk to you like that before the field because of an accident. If you go, I’ll go too.” “Go, both of you, then,” said Yorke. The two Modern boys looked for a moment as though they doubted their own ears. What could Yorke mean, in the middle of a critical match like this? He evidently meant what he said. “Are you going or not?” said he. It was a choice of evils. To play now would be to surrender. To stay where they were would render them liable to a kicking in the presence of all Fellsgarth. They sullenly turned on their heels and walked behind the goals. Most of the spectators supposed it was a case of sprained ankle or some such damage received in the cause of the School. But the acute little birds who sat in the oak tree were not to be deceived, and took good care to point the moral of the incident for the public benefit. “Whiroo! Cads! Kicked out! Serve ’em right! Good riddance! Play up, you chaps!” The chaps needed no encouragement. With two men short it was next to impossible to add to their present advantage. But they contrived to stand their ground and save the School goal. And when at last the welcome “No side” was called, the cheers which greeted them proclaimed that the School had won that day one of the biggest victories on its record. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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