Acton's Feud: A Public School Story Read online

  CHAPTER XIII

  "EASY IS THE DOWNWARD ROAD"

  Aided by Raffles of Rotherhithe, young Bourne went royally through halfthe rules of the school. He called the tune to that extent. In the firstplace, one may believe that when he called in the aid of that horseygentleman he had no further idea in his head than that of passing awaythose dull half-hours which Hill inflicted upon him.

  But, like many a wiser man, young Bourne found it was easier to conjureup a spirit than to lay one, and, having once accepted the aid ofRaffles, he found it beyond his power to dispense with it, despite hisbrave word. So, unheedful of his brother's advice, he not merely put hisinnocent feet into the stream of forbidden pleasures, but waded inwhole-heartedly up to the chin.

  Raffles, as promised, turned up on the next occasion provided with aferret and a gun, and all difficulties were smoothed over with thefarmer. Thus Jack Bourne took his post as the noble British sportsmanjust behind the Lodestone Moat, whilst Raffles, with his ferret, workedthe bank, which was honey-combed with rabbit-holes. As the rabbitsscurried out before the ferret, Jack blazed away noisily, andoccasionally he had the pleasure of seeing a rabbit turning a somersaultas it made its last bound. Certainly, Jack was not a dead shot, but whenhe contemplated the slain lying stark on the flanks of the bank, he feltthe throaty joy of the slaughtering British schoolboy. He counted out tohis worthy henchman four sixpences for the four slain with all the prideof the elephant-hunter paying his beaters yards of brass wire and calico.Raffles was properly grateful, of course.

  Then, as their acquaintance progressed, there were little competitionsbetween Jack and Raffles at artificial pigeon-shooting, Raffles havingfixed up the apparatus, and Jack, from the twenty-five yards' mark,occasionally winged his clay pigeon. It was very good sport in Jack'sopinion. Further, that little "'ouse" which Raffles knew of also soonmade the acquaintance of Jack, and he and Raffles on rainy afternoonssnatched the fearful joys of hasty "hundreds up" or "fifties up," just astime allowed, Jack did not find the cue quite so sticky nor the charms ofstale tobacco quite so unlovely as he had expected. The landlord, whomarked for the two worthies, told our young gentleman that he had "apretty 'and for the long jenny," and Jack felt he could not do less thanorder a little of his favourite beverage in return for his good opinion.And thus as ever. Under the expert tuition of Raffles, Jack became alittle more of a "man" every day, and a little less of a decent fellow.He smoked, he could call for a "small port" in quite an off-hand fashion,he had played "shell out" with loafers at the little "'ouse," and hebegan to know a little more of betting, "gee-gees," and other kindredmatters, than an average young fellow should know.

  "_Facilis descensus Averni_"--you know the old tag.

  By insensible gradations Jack Bourne found himself with a ruin of brokenrules behind him, and still tied to the chariot-wheels of Raffles, whodragged him wherever he would. Jack's pockets, too, began to feel thedrain, but luckily--or unluckily, if you look at it properly--he wasrather flush this term, and as he had more than the usual allowance, hewas not so short as he might have been.

  One thing bothered Jack, though he did not exactly put the idea thatworried him into words. There was not much fun _really_ in thisshooting, billiards, etc., since Jack broke all the rules alone. Now, ifPoulett, or Wilson, or Rogers, or Grim had been with him, that would havebeen jolly. Besides that, since he could give his old chums so preciouslittle of his time, and had perforce to head them off when they offeredto bear him company on half-holidays, they called him many choice names.

  "I hear they sample all the public-houses between here and Westcote,"said Rogers. "Look what a dissipated eye Mr. Bourne's got."

  "Yours will soon be groggy, Rogers, my pet, though you are cock of yourbeastly water-lilies." After Sharpe's memorable poem, Biffen's house werealways "water-lillies" to the rest of St. Amory's.

  "Ah?" said Poulett, "Jack carries Acton's notes to some yellow-haireddolly down at Westcote. She gives him milk whilst he's waiting for theanswer."

  "Go and poach eggs, Poulett."

  "Don't do anything too mean, dear Jack, so that you'll make us blush foryou."

  "Keep Acton out of mischief, Jack, remember he's only a poor forsakenmonitor. Show him the ropes."

  "Good-bye, you chaps," said Jack, hopping on his bike, "here's Actoncoming." The two would then pedal the well-known road to the Lodestone,and the elevating company of the Coon and Raffles.

  "Don't let Raffles bore you, young 'un," said Acton to Bourne one day asthe owner of Warmint hove in sight. "Make him useful, but keep out ofmischief."

  Jack, had he thought about the matter, might have reasonably asked Actonhow he could make Raffles useful and yet keep out of mischief, but theCoon appearing at the stable-door in all the glory of a fur-lined coat,with a foot of fur round the collar and half a foot round the sleeves,and a bigger cigar than ever in his mouth, drove Jack's thoughts inanother direction.

  Acton had really made marvellous progress under the Coon's coaching, andas Jack watched the usual concluding three rounds, he was puzzled in hisown mind as to who could hold a candle up to his friend. This particularafternoon was to be the final appearance of the Coon, who was going tofigure shortly as principal in some contest at Covent Garden, and Jackdetermined to miss no opportunity of catching the last wrinkles of thegreat professor's skill. Therefore, instead of sallying out as usualhalfway through the performance in the stable, he sat on the corn-chestuntil Hill came in.

  "Good-bye, Coon! Hope you come off all right in your turn-up."

  "Good-bye, sir! Hope I'll train you when you start for the Heavy."

  "I'll give you the chance if I do. Come along, Raffles."

  When they were outside, Jack said, "By the way, Raffles, this will beyour last appearance down here too, eh?"

  "I suppose so," said Raffles, "unless you make it worth my while to comedown entirely on your account."

  "H'm, no," said Jack. "I'm deucedly short now, and when I've paid for thelast fifty cartridges, and the last rabbits, I'll be still shorter."

  "Let it stand over, sir."

  "No," said Jack. "I've had the fun, and I'll pay, of course. Let's have alast dozen pigeons at the twenty-five yards' rise."

  Secretly, Jack was rather glad that Raffles' _role_ of entertainerwas finished; for his stolen pleasures had lost a considerable part oftheir original sweetness, and their cost _was_ heavy. It would bequite a change, too, to get back to Grim and the others, and be theordinary common sort of fellow again.

  Raffles went and wound up the throwing apparatus, and set the clay pigeonon the rest. Jack took his breech-loader, raised it to the shoulder, andsaid, "Ready!" Raffles pulled the string, the dummy bird rocketed up, andJack pressed the trigger.

  For one second afterwards Jack did not rightly know what had happened.There was a blinding flash before his eyes, a something tore off his cap,and something stung his cheeks like spirts of scalding water. His lefthand felt numb and dead. This all happened in the fraction of a moment.

  Jack looked at the gun in stupid wonder. The breech was clean blown out!With a groan of horror, he dropped the gun. He realized that he hadescaped death by a miracle. He put up his right hand to his face, whichfelt on fire, and stared blankly at Raffles.

  That worthy was scared out of his wits; but when he saw Jack was more orless alive, he managed to jerk out--

  "That was a squeak, young shaver! Hurt any?"

  "Don't know," said Jack, blankly.

  Raffles anxiously examined him, and it was with no end of relief hesaid--

  "Clean bill, sir--bar those flecks of powder on your cheek.Considering--well you're--we're--lucky."

  "Rather," said Jack, dizzily. "That's my cap isn't it?"

  Yards away was Jack's cap, and Raffles brought it. His face waswhite--white above a bit. There was a clean cut through the brim, and aneat, straightforward tear-out of an inch or so of the front just abovethe crest.

  "Well," said Raffles, looking narrowly at that business-like dam
age. "AllI can say is you're lucky."

  "Lucky! Yes," said Jack. "I suppose I'd better go. Let's have the thing.An inch lower down, and I'd have had that piece of barrel in my head--orthrough it. It wants thinking over."

  "I suppose, sir, you're going to----"

  "Oh, the cash you mean! Eh?"

  "Yes, that was my meaning."

  "Your cash will be all right, man. Come down for it on Friday--can'tyou?"

  "How if I can't, young shaver?" said Raffles of Rotherhithe.

  "Then do without it! Anyhow, I'm going now--I'm too sick."

  "All right," said Raffles, sulkily. "On Thursday."

  Jack, without another word, stumbled across the fields into the farmyard,and luckily found Acton ready for home. He shakily dropped into hissaddle; and, with a mind pretty busy, he tailed wearily after Acton toSt. Amory's.