It was a wonder it lasted so long. Not that the men could not stay, but because no monitor with power to stop it appeared on the scene. Indeed, the only monitor present was Gilks himself, and he took no steps to end the conflict.
At length, however, while the result was still undecided, a cry of “Cave!” was raised.
“Look out, here’s Riddell!” cried some small boy.
A round was just beginning, and neither combatant evinced any desire to desist on account of the captain’s approach.
Riddell was not alone, Fairbairn was with him, and, being naturally attracted by the crowd and shouting, they both hurried up in time to see the end of the round.
As soon as it was over they pushed their way in among the crowd and entered the ring.
“Stop the fight!” said Riddell.
The two combatants glared at him angrily, and Gilks replied, “Who says so?”
“I say so,” said Riddell, quietly.
The days were long gone by when the captain issued his orders in an apologetic voice and a diffident manner. He had learned enough during this term to discover the value of a little self-confidence, and had profited by the discovery. Willoughby was far more docile to an order than to a request, and on the present occasion neither Gilks nor Silk seemed disposed to argue the matter.
They put on their jackets sulkily, and, without further words to one another or to the monitors, betook their battered selves to their several quarters.
Willoughby, perceiving that the matter was at an end, also dispersed and returned to its several quarters. The Welchers resumed their interrupted revel with unabated rejoicing; the melancholy Parretts called for more hot water to eke out the consolations of their teapot; the Limpets turned in again to their preparation, and the seniors to their studies — every one criticising the fight, and wondering how it would have ended, but scarcely one troubling himself much about its merit, and less still about its consequences.
One of these consequences the principals in the engagement were not long in learning. A message arrived for each, before the evening was over, that they were reported to the doctor, and were to go to his room at nine next morning.
Silk did not get the message till late, as he had been absent most of the evening in Tucker’s study, who was an expert at repairing the damage incurred in a pugilistic encounter.
When about bedtime he returned to his own study and found the captain’s note lying on the table, he broke out into a state of fury which, to say the least of it, it was well there was no one at hand to witness.
Late as the hour was, he went at once to Riddell’s study.
Riddell was half-undressed as his visitor entered. “What do you want?” he inquired.
“I want you! Do you mean to say you’ve reported me to the doctor?”
“Of course. It was a fight. I’m bound to report it.”
“Bound to report it. You snivelling humbug! Have you sent the name up yet?”
“Why do you want to know?” said Riddell, who had ceased to be in bodily fear of Silk for some time past.
“Because I want to know. Have you sent it up?”
“I have.”
“All right, you’ll be sorry for it,” said Silk.
“I am sorry for it,” replied the captain.
Silk saw at a glance that the captain was not to be bullied, and changed his tone.
“I suppose you know,” said he, “we shall both be expelled?”
“The doctor doesn’t usually expel for fighting,” said the captain.
“Of course not. But you remember getting a note from me a little time ago.”
“From you? No; I never had a note from you.”
“What, not one telling you to go down and see Tom the boat-boy?”
“Was that from you?” exclaimed Riddell, in astonishment.
“Of course it was. And of course you know now what I mean.”
“I don’t. I could discover nothing,” said the captain.
“You mean to say you don’t know who cut the rudder-lines?”
“No; who?”
“Gilks!”
Chapter Thirty Three
A Treaty of Peace
The captain’s first impulse on receiving from Silk this astounding piece of information was to go at once to the schoolhouse and confront Gilks with his accuser.
But his second impulse was to doubt the whole story and look upon it as a mere fabrication got up in the vague hope of preventing him from reporting the fight to the doctor.
It was absurd to suppose Gilks had cut the rudder-lines. Not that it was an action of which he would be incapable. On that score the accusation was likely enough. But then, Riddell remembered, Gilks, though a schoolhouse boy, had all along been a strong partisan of the Parretts’ boat, and, ever since he had been turned out of his own boat, had made no secret of his hope that Parrett’s might win. He had even, if rumours spoke truly, lost money on the race. How was it likely, then, he would do such an absurd thing as cut the rudder-lines of the very boat he wanted to win, and on whose success he had even made a bet?
It was much more likely that Silk had made this wild charge for the sake of embarrassing the captain, and leading him to reconsider his determination to report the fight.
And what followed partly confirmed this idea.
“You don’t want to get both Gilks and me expelled?” said Silk, with a half-whine very different from his late bullying tones.
“The doctor never expels fellows for fighting.”
“But he will when he finds out all this other business,” said Silk.
“I really can’t help that,” said the captain, not quite seeing how the two offences were involved one with another.
“It’s bound to come out,” continued Silk, “and Gilks will bring me into it too. I say, can’t you get back the names?”
“Certainly not,” said the captain.
“You were glad enough to hush it all up when you thought it was young Wyndham had done it,” said Silk.
The captain winced, and Silk was quick enough to see it.
“You profess to be fair and honest. Do you call it fair to shelter one fellow because he’s your friend, and tell about another because he isn’t? Eh, Riddell?”
It was not a bad move on Silk’s part. The question thrust home, and had he been content to leave the matter there, it might have been some time before the captain, with his own scrupulous way of regarding things, would have detected its fallacies. But, not for the first time, Silk overdid it.
“Besides,” said he, seeing he had made an impression, and foolishly thinking to follow it up—“besides, young Wyndham’s a long way from being out of the wood himself yet. Of course I don’t want to do it, but I could make it rather awkward for him if I chose.”
The captain fired up scornfully, but Silk did not notice it, and continued, “You wouldn’t like to see him expelled, would you? If I were to tell all I know about him, he would be, to a certainty.”
Riddell, on whom these incautious words had acted with a result wholly different from what was intended, could scarcely contain himself to talk coolly as he replied, “Please leave my room. I don’t want you here.” Silk looked round in a startled way at the words, and his face changed colour.
“What?” he demanded. “Please leave my room,” replied the captain. “Not till you promise to get back the names.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort.”
“You won’t? You know the consequence?” Riddell said nothing. “I shall tell of Wyndham,” said Silk. “Please leave my room,” once more said the captain. Silk glared at him, and took a step forward as though he meant to try one last method for extorting the promise.