Poor Riddell! This, then, was the end of his hopes of winning over his old friend’s brother. The words struck him like a knife. He would almost sooner break all the rules in the school, so he felt that moment, than drive this one boy to throw in his lot with fellows like Silk!
“Wyndham!” he said, almost appealingly.
But Wyndham was gone, and the chance was lost.
The rest of that day passed miserably for the captain. An ominous silence and order seemed to hang over morning school. No further applicants molested him. No case of disorder was reported during the morning, and at dinner the boys were so quiet they might have been in church.
Just after morning school, and before dinner, as he crossed the playground, Wyndham passed him, talking and laughing with Silk; and neither of them noticed him.
The captain retired to his study, dejected and miserable, and, as his only comfort, buried himself in his books. For an hour at least before the early call-over he might forget his trouble in hard work.
But before that hour was half-over Riddell closed his book with a start and a sense of something unusual. This unearthly stillness all over the place — he never remembered anything of the sort before. Not a sound rose from the neighbouring studies, and when he looked out the playground was as deserted as if it had been the middle of the summer holidays. What did it all mean?
Then suddenly the truth flashed upon him. What could it mean, but that Willoughby had mutinied, and, in open defiance of his authority, gone down without leave to Shellport!
He hurried out of his room. There was scarcely a sound in the house. He went into the playground — only one boy, Gilks, was prowling about there, half-mad with toothache, and either unable or unwilling to give him any information. He looked in at Parrett’s, no one was there, and even the schoolhouse seemed desolate.
The captain returned to his study and waited in anything but a placid frame of mind. He felt utterly humbled and crestfallen. It had really seemed of late as if he was making some headway in his uphill task of ruling Willoughby, but this was a shock he had never expected. It seemed to point to a combination all over the school to thwart him, and in face of such a feeling further effort seemed hopeless.
Riddell imagined too much. Would it have pained him to know that three-quarters of those who, politics-mad, had thus broken bounds that afternoon had never so much as given him a thought in the matter, and in fact had gone off, not to defy him, but simply to please themselves?
The bell for call-over rang, and Riddell went despondingly to the big hall. Only about a score of fellows, including Bloomfield, Porter, Fairbairn, Coates, and Wibberly (who, by the way, always did as Bloomfield did), answered to their names amid a good deal of wonder and a little laughter.
Bloomfield, who had also regarded the afternoon’s business as a test of his authority, looked as crestfallen as the real captain, and for the first time that term he and Riddell approached one another with a common interest.
“There’ll be an awful row about this,” said he.
“There will,” said Riddell; “will you report your fellows, or shall I send up the whole list to the doctor?”
“You send up all the names,” said Bloomfield, “that is, unless Fairbairn wants to report the schoolhouse himself.”
“No,” said Fairbairn, “you send up the list, Riddell.”
And so Riddell’s captaincy received its first undisputed acknowledgment that term, and he sent up his formidable list to the doctor, and with mingled curiosity, impatience, and despondency waited the result.
Chapter Twenty One
The new Captain to the Rescue
There was something more than toothache the matter with Gilks that afternoon.
The fact was his spirits were a good deal worse than his teeth. Things had been going wrong with him for some time, ever since the day he was politely turned out of the schoolhouse boat. He had lost caste among his fellows, and what little influence he ever had among the juniors had also vanished.
Still, if that had been all, Gilks would scarcely have been moping up at Willoughby among the virtuous few that afternoon, while the rest of the school were running mad down in Shellport.
He had a greater trouble than this. Silk, in whose genial friendship he had basked for so many months, had not treated him well. Indeed, it was a well-known fact in Willoughby that between these two precious friends there had been some sort of unpleasantness bordering on a row; and it was also reported that Gilks had come off worst in the affair.
This was the secret of that unfortunate youth’s toothache — he had been jilted by his familiar friend. Who would not feel sad under the circumstances?
And yet Gilks’s frame of mind was, so to speak, a good deal more black than blue. As he paced up and down the playground, rather like a wolf in a cage waiting for dinner, he was far more exercised to devise some way of making his faithless friend smart for his cruelty than to win back his affection.
When two good fellows fall out it is bad enough, but when two bad fellows fall out it may be even worse, for whereas in the former case one of the two is probably in the right, in the latter both are pretty certain to be in the wrong.
No one knew exactly what the quarrel had been about, or what, if any, were its merits, or whether it was a breaking off of all friendship or merely a passing breeze. Whatever it was, it was enough to give Gilks the “toothache” on this particular afternoon and keep him at Willoughby.
The hour that elapsed after call-over dragged heavily for every one. The three heads of houses, after their brief consultation, went their several ways — at least Bloomfield went his, while Riddell and Fairbairn solaced themselves in one another’s society.
“What is the use of keeping up this farce?” exclaimed Riddell, when they were back in his study. “Isn’t it a farce?”
“Not a bit of it. I don’t think much of this affair at all. Of course there’ll be a row, but it seems to me a case of temporary lunacy that we can’t be responsible for.”
“But the doctor holds me responsible.”
“You may be sure he won’t be down on you for this.”
“And then, isn’t it just a proof to the whole school that I’ve no more authority than the smallest junior? Look at that miserable notice there on the door. Who has cared a rap about it?”
“My dear fellow, you’re always flying off to despair whenever you get the chance. The same thing might have happened to any captain.”
“I wish some one else was captain,” said Riddell. “The fellows will mind what I say less than ever now. I’m sure I would gladly give it up to Bloomfield.”
“All bosh. You know you wouldn’t. And when you’ve got your head back you’ll laugh at yourself for thinking it. Besides, wasn’t Bloomfield every bit as much cut up about it as you or me? But,” added Fairbairn, “to change the subject, do you see much of young Wyndham now you’ve left us?”
“Not much. What about him?” asked Riddell, eagerly.
“Only I fancy he’s not all straight,” said Fairbairn. “He’s fallen into bad hands I’m afraid.”
“That’s an old story,” said Riddell; “but what has he done?”
“Nothing particular. I caught him coming home one night late, long after call-over. I ought to have reported him for it, but I thought I’d tell you first. It’s a pity for him, for he’s not a bad fellow.”
“I’d give anything to get him away from Silk!” said Riddell. “It seems a sort of infatuation with him, for he knows well enough Silk means him no good, and yet he’s thick with him. And now I expect he’ll cut me altogether since I refused him a permit to the town this afternoon.”
“He’s gone down all the same,” said Fairbairn.
“Yes, and not alone either,” replied Riddell.
“Hullo!” exclaimed Fairbairn just then, as a sudden sound broke the unwonted stillness of the deserted school, “that sounds like some of the fellows coming back.”