“This sort of thing won’t do,” said Gilks to his friend one day, shortly after Riddell’s talk with Wyndham. “The young ’un’s cut our acquaintance.”
“Hope we shall recover in time,” said Silk, sneering. “Yes; he’s gone decidedly ‘pi.’ the last week.”
“It’s all that reverend prig’s doing!” growled Gilks. “I mean to spoil his little game for him, though,” added he. “How’ll you do it?” asked Silk. “That’s just it! I wish I knew,” said Gilks.
“Oh! leave it to me, I’ll get at him somehow. I don’t suppose he’s too far gone yet.”
Accordingly Silk took an early opportunity of meeting his young friend.
“Ah! Wyndham,” said he, casually; “don’t see much of you now.”
“No,” said Wyndham, shortly; “I’m busy with the library.”
“Oh! I’m afraid, though, you’re rather glad of an excuse to cut Silks and me after the row we got you into last week.”
“You didn’t get me into any row,” said Wyndham. “What! didn’t he lick you for it? Ah! I see how it is. He’s afraid you’d let out on him for being down too. Rather a good dodge too. Gilks and I half thought of reporting him, but we didn’t.”
“He had a permit, hadn’t he?”
“Oh, yes — rather! I don’t doubt that. Just like Brown’s, the town boy’s excuses. Writes them himself.”
“I’m certain Riddell wouldn’t do such a thing,” said Wyndham, warming.
“I never said he would,” replied Silk, seeing he was going a little too far. “You see, captains don’t want permits. There’s no one to pull them up. But I say, I’m awfully sorry about last week.”
“Oh! it doesn’t matter,” said Wyndham, who could not help being rather gratified to hear a monitor making apologies to him; “only I don’t mean to go down again.”
“No, of course not; and if Gilks suggests it I’ll back you up. By the way,” he added, in tones of feigned alarm, “I suppose you didn’t tell him about going to Beamish’s, did you?”
“No,” said Wyndham, whose conscience had already reproached him several times for not having confessed the fact.
“I’m awfully glad of that,” said Silk, apparently much relieved. “Whatever you do, keep that quiet.”
“Why?” said Wyndham, rather concerned.
“My dear fellow, if that got out — well, I don’t know what would happen.”
“Why, is it a bad place, then?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” laughed Silk with a mysterious wink. “All serene for follows like Gilks; but if it was known we’d taken you there, we’d be done for.”
Wyndham began to feel he had had a narrow escape of “doing” for his two patrons without knowing it.
“Promise you won’t tell anybody,” said Silk.
“Of course I won’t,” said Wyndham, rather scornful at the idea of telling tales of a schoolfellow.
“Thanks; and I’ll take care and say nothing about you, and Gilks won’t either, I know. So it’ll be all right. I don’t know what possessed the fellow to suggest going in there.”
All this was somewhat perplexing to Wyndham. He had never imagined Beamish’s was such a terrible place, or that the penalty of being found there was so severe. He felt that he had had a fortunate escape, and was glad Silk had put him up to it before he had let it out.
He became more friendly with his ally after this. There is always a bond of attraction where a common danger threatens, and Wyndham felt that, however determined he was not to be led away any more by these friends of his, it was just as well to be civil to them.
So he even accepted an invitation to come and have tea in Silk’s room that evening, to look at a volume of “Punch” the latter had got from home, and to talk over the coming boat-race.
Had he overheard a hurried conversation which took place between Silk and Gilks shortly afterwards in the Sixth Form room he would have looked forward to that evening with anything but eagerness.
“Well?” asked Gilks.
“Hooked him, I fancy,” said Silk. “He’s coming to tea this evening.”
“Good man. How did you manage it?”
“Oh, and by the way,” said Silk, “that going to Beamish’s last week was no end of a crime. If it’s found out it’s expulsion, remember. He believes it all. I’ve told him we won’t let out on him, and he’s promised not to say a word about it. Fancy we’ve rather a pull on him there.”
“You’re a jolly clever fellow, Silk,” said Gilks, admiringly.
“May be, but I’m not such a nice boy as you are, Gilks.”
Chapter Eleven
The Schoolhouse Boat at Work
Giles and his ally knew their business well enough to see that they must go to work “gingerly” to recover their lost Limpet. Consequently when Wyndham, according to promise, turned up to tea in Silk’s study, nothing was said or done in any way likely to offend his lately awakened scruples.
The tea was a good one, the volume of “Punch” was amusing, and the talk confined itself almost altogether to school affairs, and chiefly to the coming boat-race.
This last subject was one of intense interest to young Wyndham. As brother to the old captain, he was naturally eager to see his brother’s boat retain its old position on the river; and as an ardent schoolhouse boy himself, he had a further reason for wishing the same result.
“You know,” said he, “I think our fellows are looking up, don’t you, Gilks?”
“So fellows say,” replied Gilks; “of course, being in the boat myself, it’s hard to tell.”
“But doesn’t the boat seem to be going better?” asked Wyndham. “It looks to be going a lot better from the bank.”
“But you don’t mean to say, young un,” said Silk, “you ever expect the schoolhouse will beat Parrett’s?”
“I’m afraid they are rather strong,” said Wyndham, regretfully.
“Strong!” said Silk; “they’re the finest crew Willoughby’s turned out for years. Better even than the one your brother stroked last races.”
“And they mean winning, too,” said Gilks, “from all I hear. They’re specially set on it because they think they’ve been snubbed over the captaincy, and mean to show they are the cock house, though the doctor won’t own it.”
“Well,” said Silk, “as I’ve not much faith in the Welchers’ boat — in fact, I’m not sure if they’ll be able to get up a crew at all — I feel delightfully impartial.”
“I hope you’ll back us,” said Wyndham, earnestly.
“Of course, old Gilks is one of your crew,” said Silk.
“You know,” said the boy, “I’d give anything for our boat to win. It would be such a score for us, after all that has been said, wouldn’t it, Gilks?”
“Well, fellows haven’t been very complimentary about the schoolhouse lately, certainly,” said Gilks.
“No, they certainly haven’t,” replied Wyndham. “By the way, Gilks, what sort of cox does Riddell make?”
“Rather an amusing one, from all I can hear,” said Gilks. “He’s not steered the four yet; but he’s had some tub practice, and is beginning to find out that the natural place for a boat is between the banks instead of on them.”
“Oh,” said Wyndham, “I heard Fairbairn say he promised very well. He’s a light-weight, you know, and as the juniors are all stopped river-play, we shall have to get a cox. And if Riddell will do, it won’t be a bad thing any way.”