"Remember, my boys, I shall be main glad to see any of you whenever you comes this way, and can give me a look in," said Farmer Growler, as they rose to continue their run, and Digby was offering to shake hands with him.
The farmer took his hand and wrung it heartily.
"I wasn"t inclined to think over well of the youngsters of Grangewood there; but since I have seen you, I tell you frankly, I likes some on you very much. Good-bye, good-bye."
"We might have said the same of our new friend," observed Digby, as they got beyond hearing. "After having known that honest, good-natured fellow, rough as his outside seemed, I shall be inclined to think better of some of the farmers I know, whom I"ve always fancied to be rather sulky, bearish fellows. We won"t forget to pay him a visit another day, and it will be pleasant if we can think of something to carry to him or his wife. But we must make up for lost time, and go ahead faster than before, or we shall not get back till dark."
Away they all went; their meal--for neither was it luncheon, dinner, nor tea--in no way impeded their progress. On they ran faster than ever; nothing stopped them. At last they came out near a village. Right through it they went, much to the astonishment of the inhabitants, who hurried out of their cottages, to see the young gentlemen running like mad down the street. A meadow was on one side. Over a paling and a widish ditch Digby jumped, and along the meadow he ran, knowing full well that a broadish stream was to be found at the bottom of it. By this time a number of spectators had collected.
"It must be done," thought Digby; "follow who can."
He planted his pole in the middle of the stream and cleared it with a bound--shouts from the villagers showing their admiration of the feat.
Most of the rest went over in good style. Poor little Notty very nearly tumbled in, but generous Ranger went over first and stood by to catch him; and on they all went once more in line, and were soon out of sight of the village and its vociferous inhabitants, as Newland called them.
Other streams were in their course. They came to some swampy ground, and Digby very nearly let them into a quagmire, where they would all have stuck, when he espied some stones to his left, and landed on a causeway which led across it. That stream-leaping was a fine exercise for the nerves and strength, and agility too, and required no little practice. A hill now appeared before them. They breasted it boldly, as some of them did years afterwards other hills when crowned with fierce enemies, showering down bullets and round-shot on their heads. The parish church, with a lofty and beautiful tower, stood there. It had been all along Digby"s aim to reach it. The view from the summit he knew was beautiful--no more extensive prospect was to be found in all the country round. The tower was undergoing repair, so the door was open. In went Digby, and up the steps he ran--round and round and round he went, as he ascended the well-worn circular stair--the voices of his followers sounding in various tones behind him. Near the top was a window--from it hung a stout rope, which his quick eye saw was well secured. He reached the top, where there was a platform large enough, for the tower was square, to contain all the party. Soon they all a.s.sembled there. If the view from the hill was sufficient to inspirit them, this was still more calculated to do so. It did, and such a cheer was raised as perhaps had not been heard from the old tower top for many a year. There is good hope for England when her boys can cheer right l.u.s.tily and honestly, as did Digby Heathcote and his friends. For some time they stood there drinking in unconsciously the beauty of the scene, not troubling themselves with details however, and imbibing, too, greater love than ever for their native land. Suddenly Digby recollected that he ought to be moving.
"On, on," he shouted, and down the steps he dashed--not altogether, though. He stopped at the belfry and sprang to the window, from which hung the rope he had observed. Heaving down his pole, he grasped the rope, and, to the surprise and almost horror of his companions, he threw his legs over and down he glided; not very rapidly, though, but quietly, as if it was a matter of every-day occurrence, looking up and trying out, "Let those only follow who are certain they can do it. I forgive those who cannot."
Farnham, Ranger, Newland, and others looked over, and doubted whether or not they would follow. They had a regard for their necks--it would not be pleasant to break them, and yet Digby performed the feat so easily, and it would be a disgrace if no one attempted it. Ranger did not hesitate long--he only waited till Digby reached the ground in safety, to grasp the rope and to follow him down. The rest shouted when they saw him gliding down. He was, as he deserved to be, a general favourite. Soon he was seen standing alongside Digby. Farnham and then Newland came, and three more; but the remainder could not bring themselves to make the venture. Indeed, Digby and Ranger entreated them not to do so; for though they stood underneath to catch any who might fall, they all felt that the risk was great. Digby, more especially, had scarcely reached the ground than he regretted having tempted others to follow his example.
"If any of them should be killed, or seriously hurt themselves, how dreadful it would be. I should never forgive myself," he observed to Ranger.
All were at length a.s.sembled at the foot of the tower; and Digby having flourished his pole, once more started off as leader of the party, on their return towards home. He had arranged a different route to that by which they had come, away to the right; a portion of it being over a high chalky ridge. They had a steep hill-side to climb, but well and actively they did it; and, at the top, they were rewarded by the fresh health-inspiring breeze they met in their faces. For a mile or more Digby kept the summit of the ridge--a smooth, green surface, which appeared to afford but little variety to the leader"s movements; but here Digby equally showed his talent for his office, never for a minute together was he in the same att.i.tude. Now his pole was poised on high as an Indian dart, or javelin; now it was held as a lance; now he was flourishing it round his head; now he made a sudden leap forward with it; now he hopped; now he skipped; now he went round and round, spinning, but yet advancing. All these, and a variety of other eccentric movements were seen from the valley below, and created the greatest astonishment, and, in some instances, consternation, for the figures of the boys, seen against the evening sky, as they followed one after the other, in regular succession, appeared magnified to a considerable degree; and many wondered what extraordinary beings they could be. They were very much amused, some days afterwards, on hearing of the strange sights the people had seen on the ridge on that very evening, and how they pa.s.sed by. The remainder of the leaps they took, the streams they crossed, and the duckings some of them got, need not further be described. They got back in time for tea, which on Sat.u.r.days, in summer, was always later than at other times.
Digby got very much complimented for the way in which he had led.
"It"s the best run we have ever had, old fellow," exclaimed Ranger and others. "Yes, indeed it was; and the plucky way in which you got down from the top of Whitcombe Church tower was very fine. It"s not surprising some of us funked to follow. We must have another run like it next week, and we must get you to be leader again. Remember, you think over what course you will take, so as to give us plenty of sport."
Digby, naturally gratified at all these compliments, promised that he would prepare for another run on the following Sat.u.r.day.
The authorities, however, it appeared, had taken a different view of the sport to that which those had who had engaged in it. The descent from the top of Whitcombe tower was looked upon with unmitigated horror; and it was proposed to take steps for the prevention of any such dangerous adventures in future. Little, however, was poor Mr Sanford aware of how much worse proceedings were taking place much nearer home, and of the far greater dangers to which many of the boys were exposed during those long spring evenings, when they were allowed to wander forth beyond the supervision of their masters.
The Monday after this noted run, Digby was pa.s.sing through the hall, when the front-door bell rang, and Susan went to open it, just as she had done the day of his arrival. He likewise stopped at the end of the pa.s.sage to see who was coming. A fly was at the door, and in front of it stood Rubbins, the fat butler at Milford Priory, who was at that moment helping out of it no less a person than Julian Langley.
Julian was looking very sheepish and downcast, and very much inclined to cry; but the moment he saw Digby, who could not help coming forward, his countenance brightened up.
"Ah, Digby, this is pleasant, to have a friend to meet one, and to tell one all about the school," he exclaimed. "I did not know I was coming to your school. Now I don"t mind. What sort of a place is it? Many fast fellows, eh? Any fun to be had? Tell me all about it; come, quick. You look jolly enough, let me tell you. Why, you are nearly as big as I am." So Julian ran on, much in his old style.
Although Digby knew perfectly well what he had been, and how much mischief he had led him into, yet he could not help looking upon him as an old friend and companion, and as such he received him, feeling really very glad to see him. They had not much time to talk then, for Rubbins having got all his luggage and things out of the fly, and shaken hands with him in a somewhat familiar and patronising manner, delivered him over formally to Susan, to be carried before Mr Sanford.
"Won"t you wish to see master, sir?" asked Susan, who did not understand exactly who Mr Rubbins was.
"Oh, no; no, thank you," answered that gentleman, with a slight sneer in the tone of his voice. "The young one knows well enough how to take care of himself, I guess."
Susan, from these words, at once understood who Mr Rubbins was, and formed a tolerably correct opinion of the character of the young gentleman, which she did not fail to express to Mrs Pike.
Digby had to leave Julian, who was now taken before Mr Sanford; but he promised to wait for him at the end of the pa.s.sage.
Mr Sanford was not altogether satisfied with his new pupil. Julian spoke in an off-hand way of his former career, and the education he had received; and then forthwith mentioned his friendship with Digby Heathcote.
"He will show me all about the school, sir, and put me up to its ways.
All I want is to know them, and I dare say that I shall get on very well with the other fellows," said Julian, with consummate a.s.surance. "Digby and I, you see, sir, are like brothers almost--we have been so much together, and think so exactly alike."
Now Mr Sanford, from what he had heard of Digby, had formed a favourable opinion of him; and therefore, taking Julian at his word, he was bound to form the same of him. He knew enough, however, of the world to be aware that the very worst way of judging of persons is to take them at their own estimate; and so Julian did not find himself quite so highly esteemed as he might have wished. Mr Sanford, however, rang the bell, and desired that Master Heathcote might be sent to him.
Digby very quickly made his appearance; and Mr Sanford was at once inclined to doubt Julian"s a.s.sertion that they were acquainted, till Digby explained that they had just before met.
"Very well, Heathcote, introduce him to the other boys; and I hope I shall hear a good account of him from the masters," said Mr Sanford.
"But remember, by the by, that you do not run the risk of breaking your own neck, and that of your companions, by slipping down from the top of church towers. I must take measures to prevent such a proceeding in future; and have begged Mrs Pike and Mr Yates to see to it. Now go, and be good boys."
Away ran Digby and Julian. The boys were in the playground, so Digby at once took his old friend there to introduce him. He was resolved to give him the chance of a good start; so he took him up only to the best fellows, intending to warn him of the characters of the others. This ought to have been a very great advantage to Julian.
Farnham, Ranger, Newland, received him, for Digby"s sake, very kindly and cordially; and even Bouverie showed that he wished to be civil to him, and did not address him in the bantering way in which big fellows are apt to speak to those younger than themselves.
Julian, however, took it into his head that all this was owing to his own merits, and was not proportionably grateful to Digby. Although warned by Digby, from the first, of the characters of Spiller, Johnny Bray, Scarborough, and others, he at once showed that he had a hankering to become acquainted with them. Spiller, consequent, very soon got round him, and became the possessor of various articles in his box, as well as of some slices of his cake, and a pot or two of jam.
Scarborough was not long in falling foul of him.
Digby was about to rush to his rescue, and calling on Ranger and Farnham to a.s.sist; when what was his surprise to hear Julian say--
"Please don"t hit me, Scarborough, and I will give you a pot of jam and some marmalade, and will send home for some more, if you want it."
"Well, hand out the grub, young one, and I will let you off this time,"
answered the bully. "Remember, though, I won"t stand any nonsense.
You"ve promised to get me what I want, and I intend to keep you up to your word."
Julian sneaked off to his play-box, to get the eatables; and Digby turned away with disgust.
"The idea of buying off a thrashing from a big bully," he exclaimed, stamping with his feet in very vexation. "It is a thoroughly un-English, cowardly proceeding. Besides, it will only make the bully attack him more readily when he wants anything out of him. As he looks upon him as my friend, he wants to revenge himself on him, as he dares not attack me again while Bouverie remains."
Boys at school very soon find their own level. Julian rapidly sunk to his. He would have had a better chance of retaining the friendship of Farnham, Ranger, and the good set, had he been sent to sleep in their room; but, unfortunately, there was no vacant bed there, and he, consequently, was put into a room with Spiller, and some of the worst fellows. All the advantage, therefore, which he gained in the day, from a.s.sociating with Digby and his friends, was undone in the evening by the loose conversation of his bedroom companions.
"I wanted to have had a jolly feast, such as you had, Digby, the fellows tell me, and which, it seems, gained you so many first-rate friends,"
said Julian, one day soon after his arrival, in a melancholy tone. "But do you know, what with that brute, Scarborough, and that sneaky chap, Spiller, and a host of others, I haven"t got a single thing left. I don"t think you benefited much by me, either."
"Oh, never mind that; but I did not suppose my feasts gave me friends,"
answered Digby. "Perhaps it might have been so; but then, when I think of it, Bouverie would accept nothing, and some of the best fellows took very little, and indeed, generally put in their own share of grub."
"Ah, still they knew that you were a fellow who was always likely to have plenty of good things," argued Julian. "I must see about getting some more things from the Priory; it won"t do to be looking down in the world."
Poor, miserable Julian had evidently no notion of any other bond of union between people; it should not be called friendship, though he so called it, but interest, what one may get from the other. He was to be pitied certainly; but not for a moment exonerated. He had been miserably instructed at the first, there was no doubt about that; but then he had gone to Mr Nugent"s, where he had every opportunity of learning what was right. The truth, the right was set clearly before him, but he deliberately refused to accept it. The laws of G.o.d and man, his duties in life, were clearly explained to him; he had a good example set him; he was kept as much as possible out of temptation to do wrong; still, as has been seen, he contrived to do it. Now he came where he had evidently the choice between good companions and bad, and he deliberately chose the bad.
So it will be with all those whose eyes may fall on these pages. If they abandon the straight and narrow, and perhaps difficult, path of right, and enter into the broad, and seemingly easy, course of evil, they do so with their eyes open, in spite of warnings, in spite of the whisperings of conscience, in spite of thousands of examples of the destructive results of the life they are pursuing; and they will in the end be unable to offer the slightest excuse for themselves; they will have to acknowledge they brought down all their misery and wretchedness on their own heads, that their punishment was just.
The next Sat.u.r.day came, and when lessons were over, Mr Yates ascended the head-master"s desk, and informed the school that leave to go out was stopped, in consequence of certain proceedings which had come to Mr Sanford"s knowledge; but more than that he did not consider it just then necessary to explain.
This announcement, though received in silence, created the greatest vexation, and anger, and indignation among all the boys. Some thought the prohibition arose from one cause, some from another. Digby and his friends, who had played the game of Follow-my-leader on the previous Sat.u.r.day, thought that it was owing to something they had done on that occasion. Some farmer, less good-natured than Mr Growler, might have complained about them; perhaps it was owing to their exploit in the church tower; others thought that it was owing to something which had occurred in the village; others, owing to a fight which had taken place between one of their boys and a country lad; and perhaps Scarborough, and Spiller, and their set might have suspected that their half-holiday practices were known, and that all the school was being punished on that account. One thing was clear, on comparing notes, that a very considerable number of misdemeanours were committed every Sat.u.r.day; and that, altogether, they were not punished without cause. Those, however, as is usually the case, who were the most guilty, were the most furious.
Scarborough declared loudly that he would pot stand it; that, in spite of all the masters, he for one would go out as usual; so said a number of other fellows of his stamp.