From Dr. Musgrave, of Milton, to David Russell, Grace Court, London.
The boy Vivian Bell has run away. Will you defray expenses of search?
“How shall I answer this, Mr. Fenwick?”
“Please wire him that a special messenger will call upon him to-morrow.”
Milton School was situated in a delightful part of the country. It was broad on the ground, and built of stone, the sides being overgrown with the clinging ivy so abundant in England.
It ought to have been a paradise. Casual visitors always admired it, and declared that the boys who attended it were especially favored.
But they did not know the character of Dr. Peter Musgrave, who had for fifteen years exercised tyrannical sway over the pupils committed to his charge.
He was in the habit of forming sudden prejudices against his pupils, and when he was “down on a boy,” as the saying is, no amount of good behavior softened him. Vivian Bell had been unfortunate enough to incur this man’s enmity, and his life had been a hard one ever since he had entered the school.
Two days before the date of the telegram mentioned at the close of the last chapter, Simon Musgrave, the doctor’s son, ordered Vivian to go on an errand to Milton village.
“I have a bad headache, Simon,” said Vivian. “I don’t feel as if I could sit up.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” returned the young tyrant. “You’re lazy, that’s all.”
“But indeed my head aches badly, Simon.”
“Don’t call me Simon.”
“Isn’t that your name?” asked Vivian, wonderingly.
“My name to you is Mr. Musgrave. Just remember that, will you?”
“Yes, Simon—I mean Mr. Musgrave.”
“Take that!” said Simon, aiming a blow at Vivian that nearly felled him to the ground. “Perhaps you’ll remember next time.”
“You have no right to strike me!” said Vivian, plucking up courage.
He did not dare to retaliate, for he was weak compared with the young tyrant.
“Haven’t I? Then I’ll do it again!”
Which threat he promptly translated into action.
“Now you know me. Don’t you ever dare to tell me again that I haven’t a right to wallop you! Start for the village at once, or you’ll get another!”
But there was an unexpected champion in the person of one of the older boys, who had come up while Simon was gratifying his brutal instincts.
“I say, Musgrave, what are you doing to Bell?”
“None of your business!”
“Isn’t it, though? You have made him cry.”
“Oh, he’s a cry-baby, anyway,” said Simon, scornfully.
“What has he been doing to you, Vivian?” asked the other boy, kindly.
“He hit me twice!”
“What did you do that for?”
“I told you before it was none of your business,” returned Simon Musgrave, sullenly. “If you’re not careful, I’ll serve you the same way!”
“You will, eh? I should like to see you do it!” replied Jim Rawdon, not in the least terrified by Musgrave’s threats, even if he were the son of the head master.
Simon Musgrave scowled at the intrepid boy, but he knew very well that it would not do to treat him as he had Vivian Bell. Simon was a born bully, and bullies are generally cowards.
He took advantage of Vivian Bell’s gentleness, but he held in unwilling respect James Rawdon’s strength and pluck.
“I’ll report your insolence to my father,” he said, biting his nether lip.
“Do,” retorted Rawdon. “Go and complain to your pa like an overgrown baby!”
Simon was in such a passion that he ached to strike Rawdon, but prudence got the better of temper, and he refrained.
Turning to Vivian, he said: “You heard what I told you to do. Go and do it!”
“What did you tell him to do?” asked Rawdon.
“I told him to go to the village on an errand for me.”
“Why don’t you go yourself?”
“Because I don’t choose to.”
“I would go if I hadn’t a headache,” interposed Vivian, putting his hand to his head and sighing. “It’s very bad.”
“It’s all put on,” said Simon, brutally. “Your head doesn’t ache any more than mine does.”
“Indeed, indeed it does!”
James Rawdon listened to Simon with a disgust for his brutality which he did not attempt to conceal.
“Don’t you go, Bell,” he said. “I’ll stand by you.”
“Look here, Rawdon, don’t put in your oar! You’ll get into trouble!”
“Who’s going to get me into trouble?”
“I am.”
“Come on, then!” and Jim Rawdon put himself in an attitude of defence.
“Oh, I sha’n’t touch you! I’d scorn to fight you; but I’ll report you and Bell to my father.”
“I’ve been reported to your father before now,” said Rawdon, significantly.
It was quite true that Jim Rawdon had little to fear from Dr. Musgrave. He was a resolute and determined boy, who would not permit anyone to impose upon him.
His father was a wealthy merchant in London, and it so happened that Dr. Musgrave was under a pecuniary obligation to the senior Rawdon to the extent of five hundred pounds. These two considerations made Jim a privileged character.
Simon, however, knew nothing of the pecuniary relations between his father and Mr. Rawdon, and was now thoroughly incensed, especially when Rawdon, taking Vivian Bell under his protection, walked off with him.
“I’ll go and complain to my father!” exclaimed Simon, wrathfully.
“Go along! Come with me, Vivian!”
Vivian, influenced by the older and stronger boy, obeyed him.
“Now, Vivian,” said Rawdon, “tell me why you let that brute impose upon you?”
“Because I can’t help it, Rawdon.”
“That’s something I wouldn’t say.”
“You don’t need to. You are strong—oh, so strong!” returned Vivian, admiringly.
“I am not as strong as Dr. Musgrave, but he never touches me.”
“He has flogged me often.”
“The old brute! And yet you are always gentle and inoffensive.”
“I try to be good and obey the rules, but the doctor is always finding fault with me.”
“That’s his way.”
“I can’t seem to please him.”
“Then why don’t you give it up?”
“I don’t understand you, Rawdon.”
“Then I’ll tell you, Vivian. If I were treated as you are I’d leave the school.”
“But how can I?”
“Who put you here?”
“My guardian.”
“Then why don’t you ask him to take you away?”
“I’ll tell you something, Rawdon, if you won’t tell.”
“Of course I won’t tell! What do you take me for?”
“I wrote to my guardian four months ago, telling him how I was treated here.”
“Four months ago! And haven’t you had any answer?”
“No. You see, he lives in Bombay.”
Jim Rawdon whistled.
“Bombay! That’s a terrible distance off!”
“Yes. It takes a long time for a letter to reach there. That’s the reason I haven’t yet heard from him?”
“Did you ask him to take you away?”
“Yes; and I do hope he will.”
“Very likely he won’t. If he lives so far off, very likely he won’t take any trouble in the matter.”
“Oh, I hope he will!”
“If I were you I would take the matter into my own hands. I’d run away!”
Vivian Bell almost gasped at the daring suggestion.
“But what could I do if I did run away? I haven’t any money; that is, I have only half a crown.”
“I’ve got two half-sovereigns, and you may have one of them.”
“You’re awfully kind, Rawdon. Would you really advise me to run away?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Where shall I go first?”
“There’s a farmer four miles away on the Bolton Road. His name is Giles Glover. Go there and ask him to keep you for a couple of days. You can pay him, you know. Tell him I sent you. He’s a friend of mine.”
“But after the two days?”
“I’ll call over and have a talk with you. I can ride with the carrier, so it won’t be any trouble. Then I’ll arrange something for you. Perhaps I may send you to London with a letter to my father.”
“But if the doctor catches me?” asked Vivian, with a shiver.
“The doctor won’t catch you. I’ll put him off the scent.”
“I don’t know, Rawdon. It seems a very bold thing to do.”
The conversation was interrupted here, for Simon Musgrave came up with a triumphant smile on his face.
“Rawdon and Bell are wanted,” he said. “You are to report at once to my father at his office.”
Simon Musgrave walked away, not doubting that the two boys would obey orders.
“What shall I do, Rawdon?” asked Vivian, in a state of nervous alarm. “The doctor will be sure to flog me!”
“Then don’t go near him.”
“But he will come for me.”
“Then mind you are not to be found.”
“What do you mean?”
“Go to your room, get a few underclothes, and run away. Remember where I told you to go. You know where Farmer Glover lives?”
“Yes.”
“Go there. Ask him to keep you till I come.”
“But will he?”
“I am sure he will. He hates Dr. Musgrave, who tried to cheat him out of pay for some hay he bought of him. You’ll find him to be a good friend.”
“It seems a bold thing to do, Rawdon, but if you say I had better, I will be guided by you.”
“That is right. Now lose no time in going to your room, and I will delay matters so that you will have a chance to get away.”
“Shall you go to see the doctor?”
“Yes; I am not afraid of him.”
Jim Rawdon loitered about the quadrangle, and it was nearly fifteen minutes before he presented himself near the office. Simon had been sent out to look for him.
“Why don’t you go to my father’s office?” he demanded.
“There is no hurry,” returned Rawdon, composedly.
“You’ll find out if there isn’t. Pa’s awful mad; I can tell you that.”
“Then he’d better get over it as soon as possible. It isn’t healthy for an old man like him to get into a rage.”
“I hope he’ll flog you!” said Simon, exasperated at Rawdon’s coolness.
“You were always kind and friendly, Simon. Just as sure as he tries to flog me, I’ll flog you!”
“Where is Bell? Has he gone to the office?” said Simon, who felt that Rawdon would be very likely to carry out his threat.
“What have I got to do with Bell? Isn’t he in the office now?”
“If he isn’t it’ll be worse for him. Pa isn’t in a humor to be trifled with.”
Five minutes later Jim Rawdon sauntered into the office of Dr. Musgrave.
The doctor was sitting at his desk. His face was stern and wrathful.
“Where is Bell?” he asked, abruptly.
“I can’t tell you, sir.”
“Wasn’t he with you when my son Simon summoned you to my office?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then how is it you don’t know where Bell is?”
“I am not his guardian, Dr. Musgrave. We separated, and I did not trouble myself to see where he went. Hasn’t he been here?”
“No, he hasn’t,” answered the doctor, sharply. “How happens it that you come so late?”
“Simon didn’t tell me there was any particular hurry.”
“My orders are always to be obeyed at once!”
“Very well, sir.”
“You’d better remember that next time.”
“I am here now. What did you wish to see me about?”
“I understand that you have treated my son Simon with disrespect.”
“Please be more explicit, sir,” said Rawdon, with exasperating coolness.
The doctor bit his lip. He felt that Rawdon was impertinent, though his language was strictly respectful.
“You interfered between him and Bell.”
“I did. I saw that he was bullying Bell, and I interfered to protect Bell.”
“What business was it of yours?”
“Sir,” said Rawdon, with dignity, “I am an English boy, and I can’t stand by and see a younger boy bullied by an older and stronger one.”
“Do you think I will allow you to interfere with my son? If you had any complaints to make, you should have come to me.”
“There was no time for it.”
“Simon tells me that he asked Bell to go to the village on an errand for him.”
“Bell had a headache, and was not fit to run errands.”
“You could have told me that.”
“And in the meantime Bell would have been on his way to the village.”
“Hark you, Rawdon! You are taking too much on yourself!”
Jim Rawdon made no reply.
“And if this continues I shall feel compelled to flog you!”
“I think you had better not, Dr. Musgrave,” said Rawdon, in a significant tone.
“Why not, sir?” demanded the doctor, angrily.
“Because my father won’t permit it. He told me when I came to school to report to him if you laid your hand on me.”
Dr. Musgrave winced. He had reason to believe that Jim told the truth, and he knew that he was under obligations to the senior Rawdon, who might make things uncomfortable.
“I don’t allow any outsider to interfere with my discipline,” he said, “but I will postpone your case till I have dealt with Bell. You say you don’t know where he is?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you any idea where he went when he left you?”
“I think he may have gone to his room.”
“Did he understand that I sent for him?”
“I presume so, Dr. Musgrave. I didn’t ask him.”
“You may go to his room and see if he is there. If so, tell him to come here directly.”
Outside stood Simon Musgrave.
“Did my father flog you?” he asked, maliciously.
“You had better ask him.”
“I hope he did.”
“By the way, Simon, have you seen Bell?”
“No.”
“Your father thinks he may be in his room. Will you go and tell him, if you find him there, that he is to go to the office?”
This was to Simon an agreeable errand, and without asking whether it was desired by the doctor that he should go, he set off at once.
He returned in a brief space of time, saying:
“I can’t find him.”
“Then you might tell your father; or shall I do so?”
“I’ll go in.”
“I’ve been round to Bell’s room, pa,” he said, “but he isn’t there.”
“Inquire around among the boys if anyone has seen him,” answered the doctor, frowning.
“Did you flog Rawdon?” asked Simon, eagerly.
“Not yet. Do as I told you.”
Inquiry was made among the pupils, but if anyone had seen Vivian Bell, no one would give information on the subject.
At length an under-gardener said: “I seen him going off Bolton way. He had a bundle under his arm. He looked like he was running away.”
“Bell running away!” exclaimed Dr. Musgrave, scandalized. “Why, he wouldn’t dare to do such a thing!”
“You know best, sir,” said the gardener, humbly.
“If he has run away,” said Dr. Musgrave, setting his teeth, “I’ll half kill him when I get him back!”
Jim Rawdon was summoned again.
“Rawdon,” said Dr. Musgrave, abruptly, “has Bell ever said anything to you about running away?”
“Has he run away?” asked Rawdon, innocently, looking immensely surprised.
“Answer my question, sir.”
“I can’t say that he has, sir, although he has complained of being badly treated.”
“No one is badly treated here!” roared the doctor, furiously. “What do you mean by such an insinuation?”
Jim Rawdon did not seem terrified by the doctor’s angry outburst.
“I am not saying he was ill treated,” he replied, “but——”
“I think he was.”
“You are the most impudent boy I have in my school! How dare you talk in this way?”
Rawdon merely shrugged his shoulders.
Dr. Musgrave wished he might set off at once in pursuit of the missing pupil, but he could not break away from his duties.
“I’ll go for him, pa,” volunteered Simon.
“No; I will wait till to-morrow morning, and go myself.”
“But he may get away for good and all!”
“He can’t go far, for he has no money. I am not afraid of losing him.”
When Vivian Bell parted from Jim Rawdon he strictly followed the directions of his schoolmate. He went hurriedly to his room, made up a bundle of underclothing, and then crossing the grounds in nervous haste, started on the Bolton Road.
He knew the way, for he had often gone in this direction on holidays, usually with a company of his schoolfellows.
He had hardly time to consider the importance of the step he was taking. He was animated by a feverish desire to get as far away as possible from the school where he was ill treated.
He feared and detested the head master, who, to the best of his remembrance, had never spoken a kindly word to him.
He would never of his own impulse have dared to run away, but the stronger will of Jim Rawdon dominated him.
As he hurried along on a rustic road between two delightful hedge-rows, he looked backward from time to time with nervous apprehension, almost expecting to see the tall, gaunt figure of Dr. Musgrave following him in hot pursuit, or the red head and malicious face of his young tormentor, Simon.
But when a mile away he began to feel less apprehension. He was confident that Rawdon would somehow cover his flight and put the pursuers off his track.
An unwonted sense of freedom came to him.
“Oh, if I could get away entirely from Dr. Musgrave!” he thought. “I would be willing to work hard. Perhaps some farmer would engage me. I would not mind hard work as long as I was well treated.”
It is a very serious thing when a teacher who should be the guardian and guide of his pupils inspires dread and abhorrence. It is difficult to estimate how much unhappiness is occasioned by such unprincipled tyrants as Dr. Peter Musgrave, the head master of Milton School.
It seems a pity that they could not for a time change places with some of the pupils they abuse, as is done in the ingenious story, “Vice Versa.”
Vivian had walked about two miles when he was overtaken by the carrier in his cart.
All the boys of Milton School knew Jack Hunt, who was a good-natured man of middle age.
“Where are you going, Master Bell?” asked the carrier, slackening his speed.
Vivian turned round and answered: “Won’t you ever tell, Jack?”
“No, I won’t,” answered Jack, stoutly.
“Then I am running away.”
“You don’t mean it now, Master Bell?” exclaimed Jack, half incredulous.
“Yes, Jack, it’s true.”
“What! Running away from the schoolmaster?”
“Yes, Jack.”
“Then I’ll be danged if I blame thee, lad. He’s a brute, he is.”
“He’s treated me brutally, Jack.”
“But I say, Master Bell, I didn’t think thee had it in thee. Why, I didn’t think thee had the pluck to run away.”
“I don’t think I would, Jack, if it hadn’t been for Jim Rawdon.”
“Ah, yes, Rawdon. He’s a plucky lad. He wouldn’t let the master flog him.”
“No, I don’t think Dr. Musgrave ever flogged Rawdon.”
“Oh, many a time,” answered Vivian, shuddering. “Oh, he has beat me cruelly.”
“I’d like to get at him,” said Jack, shutting his teeth firmly together. “I’d like to get at him with a horsewhip, that I would!”
“But Simon is almost as bad.”
“That’s the schoolmaster’s boy. I know that Simon. He’s got an ugly temper, he has. And he’s impudent, too.”
“Did you ever have any trouble with him, Jack?”
The carrier laughed.
“He’s had trouble with me,” he answered. “I’ll tell you how it was. I was drivin’ along one day, just as you see me now, when Simon came up, and, just out of ugliness, picked up a stone and fired it at my ’orse. Well, I wouldn’t stand that, you know, so I jumps off my cart and I ran after the boy whip in hand.”
“Did he run away?”
“No; he stood his ground. He thought I wouldn’t dare to hit him. So when I said: ‘Why did you go to do that?’ he answered, impudent like: ‘Because I chose.’ With that I took my whip and slashed him about the legs till he jumped and swore.”
“You lashed Simon Musgrave?” asked Vivian, almost incredulous.
“Yes, I did. Oh, wasn’t he mad, though! He threatened that he would tell his pa, and have me locked up.”
“I am glad to hear that. It does me good! And you really and truly lashed Simon?”
“Ask him if I didn’t.”
“I wonder he didn’t tell the doctor.”
“I told him I would have him arrested for stoning my ’orse.”
“I would like to have been there.”
Vivian Bell was far from being a vindictive boy, but it seemed to do him good to hear that his persistent young persecutor had for once had the same treatment meted out to him that he had so often inflicted upon others.
“Where are you going, Master Bell?” asked the carrier, with a sudden thought.
“Rawdon told me I’d better go to Farmer Glover’s, and ask him to take me in over-night.”
“And a good plan it is; but you’re only half way to Giles Glover’s.”
“I’m not tired, Jack. I shall be able to walk.”
“There’s no need of walking. I’m going all the way there myself. So just jump up into my cart, Master Bell, and I’ll have you there in a jiffy.”
Vivian was glad to accept this offer, and in a minute he was in the cart, riding beside Jack, the carrier.
“I am afraid I will get you into trouble, Jack,” said Vivian, after a pause.
“Never you think of that, Master Bell. You don’t think the doctor’ll be flogging me, do you, now?” asked the carrier, with a broad grin.
“No; I don’t think he would do that.”
“I would like to see him try it, I would.”
“But he might refuse to employ you.”
“As I am the only carrier hereabouts he wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, you are very kind, Jack.”
“And why wouldn’t I be? I’d help any of the schoolboys. There’s one thing I’d like to help them in.”
“And what’s that?”
“To flog the schoolmaster. That would be rare fun.”
So Vivian Bell and his good friend the carrier sped along till they came in sight of the farmhouse occupied by Giles Glover.
It so happened that the farmer himself was out in the yard when the carrier drove up.
They greeted each other like old friends.
“And whom have you got with you, Jack?” asked the farmer.
“I’ve got a boarder for you, farmer.”
“I don’t understand. Isn’t this one of Dr. Musgrave’s boys?”
“Yes; and he’s run away from school.”
“You don’t say! And what for?”
“Because the doctor has been flogging him almost every day, till he’s tired of it. Will you take him in for a night?”
“Aye, that I will! But what are you going to do, lad?”
“I will wait here till Jim Rawdon comes. He will advise me.”
“Aye! I know Rawdon. He is a manly boy, Rawdon is.”
“It was he that advised me to run away.”
“But have you any money, lad? You know you can’t get along without money.”
“Yes, I have a little money. I will pay you for taking me in.”
“No, you won’t, lad! Giles Glover wants no pay from a poor, persecuted lad. There’s plenty to eat here, and you’re heartily welcome to it. But have you nothing to live on? Where is your father, lad?”
“I have no father nor mother.”
“Then who pays your bills?”
“My guardian.”
“Then why don’t you go to him?”
“I can’t. He lives in Bombay. That’s ever so many thousands of miles off. I have written to him, and I hoped to hear from him before this time.”
“Wouldn’t it have been better to wait?”
“I couldn’t,” said Vivian, wearily. “It is four months since I wrote.”
“But how will you get along?”
“If I can get to London I will go to my guardian’s bankers.”
“Well, I will keep thee at any rate for a night or two, and it sha’n’t cost thee a penny.”
Soon after Vivian’s arrival he sat down to a plentiful supper. He ate heartily, and his courage rose. He was surrounded by humble but cordial friends, and the atmosphere of kindness was as grateful as it was new to him.
But it would not be long before his place of concealment would be discovered, and his foes be on his track.
It so happened, though Vivian did not know it, that he was seen riding with Jack the carrier by a boy named Jarvis, connected with Milton School.
Jarvis was a toady to Simon, and strove to ingratiate himself with Dr. Musgrave by carrying him tales of his schoolmates.
Hidden behind the shrubbery, Jarvis saw the carrier’s cart with Bell as passenger.
He had been to Bolton to call on an aunt.
On his return to the school he heard of Vivian Bell’s disappearance.
Jarvis congratulated himself on being the first to carry news of his missing scholar to the head master.
In crossing the campus he fell in with Simon.
“What’s the news, Simon?” he asked.
“Bell has run away!”
“Do you know where he has gone?”
“No; but pa’ll catch him, I’m sure of that. I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes then, I can tell you!”
“Didn’t anybody see him go?”
“No; I had just told him pa wanted to see him in the office, and I supposed he would report there. I’ll tell you who knows something about his going away.”
“Who is it?”
“Rawdon. He was with him, and I feel sure that he put Bell up to running away.”
“Very likely. Bell’s a milk-and-water chap. He wouldn’t dare to run away unless someone put him up to it. Have you any idea in what direction he went?”
“No.”
“Humph!”
“What do you mean by your mysterious manner. Do you know anything about his going away?”
“Well, I might have found out something,” answered Jarvis.
“If you know anything it’s your duty to tell me right off,” said Simon, imperiously.
Jarvis, in general, acquiesced in anything that Simon said, but he was aware of the importance of the information he had to offer, and chose to get all the credit himself.
“Why is it my duty to tell you?” he asked.
“So that I may tell pa.”
“It will do just as well if I tell him.”
“No, it won’t. You tell me, and I will go to the office at once and tell pa.”
“There is no need to trouble you, Simon. Whatever there is to tell I can tell myself.”
“I don’t believe you’ve got anything to tell,” said Simon, cunningly.
“Nothing much, only that I saw Bell when he was running away.”
“Where did you see him?” asked Simon, eagerly.
“That’s what I am ready to tell your father.”
Simon made another attempt to obtain the information, but failing, he escorted Jarvis to the office of Dr. Musgrave.
“Pa,” he said, bustling in, “there’s some news of Bell.”
“What is it?” asked the master, looking up from the desk.
“Jarvis saw him running away.”
Jarvis, who had followed Simon into the office, now pressed forward.
“Well, Jarvis, what have you to tell?” asked the doctor.
“This afternoon I saw Bell riding over the Bolton Road with Jack Hunt, the carrier.”
“Ha! that man is in it! I am not surprised. His influence over my pupils is very demoralizing. He will get into trouble if he is not very careful.”
“Can’t you have him arrested, pa?” said Simon, who had a grievance of his own against the independent carrier.
“That depends on his connection with the affair. In what direction was the carrier going?”
“Toward Bolton, sir.”
“Did he or Bell see you?”
“No, sir. I was hiding behind the hedge.”
“What else did you see?”
“Bell had a bundle with him.”
“Ha! a bundle of clothes, no doubt! What time was this?”
Jarvis mentioned the hour.
“He must have started about the time I told him to go to your office, pa.”
“Probably. Simon, do you know where the carrier lives?”
“Yes, pa.”
“What time does he get back from Bolton?”
“About six o’clock.”
“Very well; go there at that time and ask him to step around to see me.”
“All right, pa.”
This was an errand which Simon enjoyed. He reached the carrier’s house just as Jack was unharnessing his horse.
“I say, Jack,” he began, “pa wants to see you right off.”
“Does he?” returned the carrier. “You can tell him where I am. If he will come round here he can see me.”
“He wants to see you at his office.”
“Well, I haven’t time to go there. My supper is waiting for me. Do you know what he wants to see me about?”
“Yes; it’s about Bell. He was seen riding with you this afternoon.”
“Oh, he was, was he? Did you see him riding with me?”
“No, but Jarvis did; so there’s no use of your denying it.”
“I don’t deny it. Master Bell is always welcome to ride with me, but I wouldn’t take you on my cart, nor yet that Jarvis.”
“I say, you’d better be careful. Pa ain’t going to have you help his boys run away.”
“Who’s run away?” asked Jack, innocently.
“Why, Bell, of course. You don’t mean to say you didn’t know it?”
“Master Bell run away! You don’t mean it! Why should he run away from such a kind man as your father?”
“Because he was a bad boy. He always disobeyed the rules,” said Simon, sharply.
“You don’t mean to tell me so! And I thought he was such a good, quiet boy.”
“Where did you leave him?”
“Where did I leave him? I didn’t leave him anywhere. He left me.”
“Where was it?”
“On the road.”
“Did he tell you where he expected to spend the night?”
“He might, and again he mightn’t. I am so forgetful that I never minds what’s told me. It just goes into one ear and out of the other.”
Finding he could get no certain information out of the carrier, Simon started to go, threatening him with arrest for conniving at the escape of Vivian Bell.
“You don’t really think your pa would have me arrested, do you, Simon?” asked the carrier, pretending to be very much frightened.
“You just see!”
“You’ll speak a good word for me, won’t you? You see it would be bad for my business to be arrested.”
“You ought to have thought of that,” said Simon, under the impression that Jack was weakening. “Your only course is to tell pa all you know about Bell, and just where he’s gone.”
“I remember now he told me where he was going.”
“Where?” asked Simon, eagerly.
“To London.”
“To London!” repeated Simon, in disgust. “Why, he’d have to walk all the way!”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Why didn’t you turn right round and bring him back to the school? Pa’d have given you a sixpence.”
“Would he, now?”
“Yes; I am sure he would.”
“I can’t leave my business for any such trifle as a sixpence. Besides, it wasn’t any of my business carrying back your father’s runaway scholars.”
“Perhaps you’ll change your mind, Mr. Jack.”
“I’ll make one promise.”
“What’s that?”
“If I ever see you running away I’ll carry you back.”
Simon did not deign a reply to this, but turning on his heel walked out of the yard.
As he left, he said: “You’d better go round and see pa after supper.”
“He knows where he can find me,” returned the carrier, in a sturdy tone.
Arrived at the school, Simon went at once to his father’s study, and reported that the carrier would not obey his command.
“Never mind, Simon,” said Dr. Musgrave. “The grocer has just been here and told me that Bell is staying at Giles Glover’s farm. I shall go for him to-morrow morning.”
Guy Fenwick, accompanied by his friend and fellow passenger, August Locke, started from London early in the morning, bound for Milton.
Reaching the station, Locke proposed to Guy to walk to the school.
“It is only half a mile,” he said, “and it will be a pleasure to me to take a leisurely stroll over the road that was once so familiar to me.”
“I am quite willing,” said Guy. “It is a charming morning, and the country is beautiful.”
“More so than America?”
“I must confess,” said Guy, “that I know of no landscape in America that equals the charm of an English village.”
It was a bright, sunshiny day. The hedge-rows were a dark green. They passed a church overgrown with ivy, and the air was perfumed by sweet flowers.
“How often I have been over this road,” said August Locke.
“Did you enjoy your schooldays, Mr. Locke?”
“I should have done so if we had had a better teacher. Dr. Musgrave’s tyranny spoiled all.”
“Did he abuse you?”
“As much as he dared; but when he went too far my temper got the better of me, and I was ready for anything. I think he knew that, for he did not treat me as badly as some of his pupils who were more timid. How are your American schools?”
“No doubt we have some tyrannical teachers, but the one whose school I attended was a gentleman. He was firm and yet gentle, and all we boys respected and liked him.”
“With such a teacher as you describe Milton School would be a paradise.”
“I don’t see how Dr. Musgrave can retain his position. Does he own the school?”
“No; he is employed by the directors. Most of them live at a distance, and know nothing of his administration. If complaints were made to them they would pay no attention to them. They would take the ground that there is a natural antagonism between pupils and teachers.”
“So the poor boys have little hope of having their wrongs redressed?”
The distance between the station and the school was so short that by the time their conversation was over they had nearly reached the gate that led into the school-ground.
“It looks just as it did when I left,” said August Locke, surveying the building and campus with interest. “I can almost imagine that it was only yesterday I went away.”
“Except when you look in the glass.”
“Yes; I have grown from a boy into a man of twenty-five. I should be more than a match for old Musgrave now,” and the young man regarded with satisfaction his muscular arms and well-knit figure.
“Really,” he added, “I shouldn’t mind if there were occasion, having a tussle with the old fellow. I fancy he wouldn’t stand long before his old pupil.”
There were several boys scattered about the campus.
August Locke and Guy entered, and looked about them for someone whom they could interrogate.
The nearest was a stout, well-knit boy, with a strong, resolute face, and a frank expression. In fact, it was Jim Rawdon, already introduced as the friend and adviser of Vivian Bell.
“My boy,” said Locke, with pleasant courtesy, “can you tell me if Dr. Musgrave is in his office?”
“No, sir; not this morning.”
“Isn’t that rather strange—at this hour? You see, I am an old pupil, and haven’t forgotten the ways of the place.”
“He is usually here, sir; but he made an early start to hunt up a pupil who ran away a day or two since.”
“What is the name of the pupil?” asked Guy, quickly.
“Vivian Bell.”
“I thought so,” said Guy.
“Are you a friend of Bell?” asked Rawdon.
“Yes; I am more than a friend, though I never saw him. I am sent here by his guardian.”
“But I thought his guardian lived in Bombay?”
“So he does; but I come from Bombay.”
“I am glad of it,” said Rawdon.
“Are you a friend of Vivian?” asked Guy.
“Yes; I am about the only friend the poor boy has in this place.”
“Do you mean that he is generally unpopular?”
“No; we all like him; but I am the only one who dares stand up for him.”
“His guardian received a letter complaining that he was ill treated by the head master.”
“That is true enough. He has been very badly treated.”
“Why? Isn’t he a good boy?”
“Yes. The trouble is that he is too good and gentle. Dr. Musgrave felt that it would be safe to bully him, and he has done so.”
“You are not giving Dr. Musgrave a very good character.”
“He doesn’t deserve one.”
“In what way has Vivian been ill treated?”
“He has been flogged two or three times a week on an average.”
“Without deserving it?”
“Yes.”
“What excuse can the doctor have for flogging him?”
“Well, to begin with, Simon is down upon him.”
“Who is Simon?”
“Simon Musgrave, the doctor’s son. He’s as bad as his father, and I don’t know but worse.”
“Have you had anything to complain of?”
“No. He doesn’t dare to meddle with me. I thrashed him once so effectually that he thinks it wisest to let me alone.”
“Coming back to Vivian, you say that Dr. Musgrave has gone in search of him?”
“Yes; he started early, accompanied by Simon.”
“Then I suppose he had information as to his whereabouts?”
“Yes. He heard that he was at Giles Glover’s farm, about four miles away.”
“Will he probably find him there?”
“I am afraid so. It was I who advised him to run away, and I told him to go to Giles Glover’s.”
“Perhaps he may have left there.”
“No. He was to wait till I got a chance to go and see him. I haven’t had any chance yet. Bell is a timid boy, and he wouldn’t know where to go. I meant to start him to London to see his guardian’s bankers.”
“Let me shake hands with you,” said Guy, impulsively. “I am proud to know you. You have had the courage to be a friend to a boy who was badly abused. What is your name?”
“Jim Rawdon.”
“Mine is Guy Fenwick. I am an American boy.”
“And yet you are sent here by Bell’s guardian,” said Rawdon, in surprise.
“Yes. It is too long a story to explain now.”
“I like you, even if you are not English,” said Rawdon. “Do what you can for Bell.”
“That is what I have come here for. What will happen if Dr. Musgrave captures him?”
“He will flog Bell before the whole school, worse than he ever did before.”
“You may rest assured that he won’t do that,” said August Locke. “I think I shall have something to say.”
Jim Rawdon’s face glowed with pleasure.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Oh, won’t there be a high old time!”
“I fancy there will. I was once a pupil of Dr. Musgrave, and I owe him a few returns for past favors. Does he often flog you?”
“He never has yet,” said Rawdon. “He knows that my father would take me away instantly if he tried it. Besides—I don’t mind telling you two—he owes my father borrowed money, and that makes him cautious.”
“I am glad that you, at any rate, are safe. So Simon is no improvement on his father?”
“No. If you were here as a pupil, how is it you don’t remember Simon?”
“He was only a small boy then, perhaps six years old, and I was not likely to know anything of him.”
“Shall you stay here till the doctor returns?”
“Yes. It will be our best course. You don’t think the doctor will attempt to punish Bell before he gets him back?”
“No. That isn’t his way. He will call the school together, and give him a cruel flogging before all the boys. I have often seen such punishment, and it makes my blood boil; but what could I do?”
Five minutes later Rawdon called out in excitement:
“There comes the doctor! Simon and Bell are with him!”
August Locke and Guy looked up the road. A wagon was approaching, drawn by a bony-looking horse.
Simon was driving. On the back seat was Dr. Musgrave, tall, thin, with a stern-looking visage, and beside him Vivian Bell, his face red and tearful.
He well knew what a terrible punishment awaited him.
Dr. Musgrave was so occupied with thoughts of the punishment that he proposed to inflict on the poor boy whom he had captured that he did not notice the visitors, who stood at one side of the path leading to his office.
Simon brought up the wagon in front of the gate.
Dr. Musgrave jumped out, and then extended his hand to Vivian Bell.
“Give me your hand!” he said gruffly.
The poor boy tremblingly held out his hand, which was grasped roughly by the tyrant. He was jerked out with no gentle motion.
“Now, Simon, give me the whip!”
Dr. Musgrave grasped it, and seizing Vivian by the collar, began to push him before him up the path.
Guy and August Locke looked on in disgust and anger.
“Speak to him, Mr. Locke,” whispered Guy.
“Dr. Musgrave!” said August, in a clear, cold voice.
Then for the first time the head master turned his attention to the newcomers.
“I will be at your service in a few moments,” he said, waving his hand.
He thought that August Locke wished to enter Guy at his school.
“That will not do, Dr. Musgrave. I wish your attention now!”
Dr. Musgrave, whose temper was none of the best, took umbrage at this.
“You will have to wait!” he said, sharply. “I have to mete out justice to this young rascal, who had the audacity to run away from me. I have just recovered him, and I intend to flog him in the presence of the school. You can be present, if you like.”
“Dr. Musgrave,” said Locke, sternly, “this flogging shall not take place!”
“What!” exclaimed the head master, with blazing eyes. “Do you come here to interfere with my discipline?”
“I do; or rather we do.”
“I never heard of such audacity!” exclaimed Dr. Musgrave, fairly aghast.
“Is not this boy Vivian Bell?”
“Yes.”
“Then you shall not flog him!”
Dr. Musgrave was exasperated beyond endurance. He had been accustomed to move among his pupils like an Eastern despot, with no one bold enough to oppose him.
“This is my answer,” he said, grasping the whip, and lashing Vivian across the legs, eliciting a cry of pain.
“And this is mine!” said August Locke.
He snatched the whip from the head master, grasped him by the collar, and with all the strength he possessed rained down blows across the teacher’s legs.
Dr. Musgrave shrieked with anger and dismay. As he did so he let go of Vivian Bell.
Guy instantly drew the trembling boy to his side.
“What do you mean by this outrage?” demanded Dr. Musgrave. “Give me back that whip!”
“You cannot be trusted with it,” said Locke, coolly.
Dr. Musgrave, fairly boiling with passion, made a spring for Vivian, but August Locke anticipated the movement, and brought down the whip over the head master’s shoulders.
“Boys, come to the help of your teacher!” shrieked Musgrave.
Not a boy stirred except Simon.
He ran forward, and tried to attack Vivian Bell.
Guy let go of Vivian, and with a well-directed blow stretched Simon on the ground.
“What do you mean by this outrage? Who are you?” asked the head master, pale and agitated.
“I, sir, am August Locke, once your pupil,” replied Locke. “I am paying you off for some of your former brutality.”
“I will have you arrested—yes, and you, too!” shaking his head at Guy.
“Let me introduce my young companion, Dr. Musgrave,” went on Locke. “He is Master Guy Fenwick. He comes here as the agent of Mr. John Saunders, of Bombay, the guardian of Vivian Bell.”
“Is this true?” asked the head master, bewildered and incredulous.
“Yes, sir,” answered Guy. “I came here to find out how the boy was treated, but I have seen for myself. I withdraw him from your school. He is no longer a pupil of yours!”
Vivian Bell’s expression changed at once. He looked overjoyed.
“Oh!” he said, “is this true?”
“Yes,” answered Guy, putting his hand caressingly on the boy’s shoulder. “I shall take you away with me.”
Dr. Musgrave, though still shaking with anger, was not wholly destitute of prudence.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “before anything is decided upon, I wish to explain that this boy has committed a daring act of rebellion, an act which merits summary punishment.”
Vivian looked up nervously into Guy’s face, but the expression he saw there reassured him.
“Yes, sir; he ran away,” said August Locke, “and any boy would be justified in running away under the circumstances.”
“Sir,” said Dr. Musgrave, striving to recover some of his lost dignity, “in a school like this there must be discipline.”
“Yes, but not brutality.”
“You have evidently been misinformed as to the character of my discipline. It is firm, but parental.”
“Dr. Musgrave,” retorted August Locke, with a disgust which he could not conceal, “you forget that I was a former pupil of yours. Of all the abominable tyrants to be found in English schools, I think you carry off the palm.”
“I had hoped, Mr. Locke—I remember you now—that your maturer judgment would have enabled you to understand the reason of my occasional severity. My own conscience justifies me in what I have done.”
“Then you have a peculiar conscience; that is all I have to say.”
“If this boy—as I can hardly believe—represents Bell’s guardian, I will describe to him the flagrant acts of disobedience of which his ward has been guilty. Surely he will not justify a pupil in running away from his school!”
“Under the circumstances I do, sir.”
“I trust you will leave Bell here till the end of the term, four weeks hence.”
Vivian Bell looked alarmed.
“I must decline to do so, Dr. Musgrave.”
“I shall, under the rules of the school, charge to the end of the term.”
“You can do so, sir, but I shall withdraw Vivian to-day.”
“I claim the right, before he leaves, to inflict punishment for the act of rebellion of which he has been guilty.”
“So it would afford you satisfaction to flog him, Dr. Musgrave?” said August Locke, with a sarcastic smile.
“No, sir. I am always pained when I have to chastise a pupil, but it is necessary to the maintenance of my authority over the other boys that Bell’s offense should not go unpunished.”
“Your authority will have to take care of itself, Dr. Musgrave. You are fortunate that I do not punish you for your past brutality!”
“Mr. Locke, a higher-handed outrage was never perpetrated than your interference with my authority, and your assault upon myself.
“You are quite welcome to take any view of it you choose. Guy, I think you ought to take immediate steps toward the withdrawal of your young ward.”
“Dr. Musgrave, will you direct that my ward’s trunk be packed, and all made ready for his departure? When this is done I will settle your bill.”
“I protest once more against your remarkable proceedings. I shall write to Mr. Saunders and complain of them.”
“You are at liberty to do so. In the meanwhile, please have the boy’s clothes packed.”
The humiliation of Dr. Musgrave was the greater because nearly all his pupils had been witnesses of it. Though they had not manifested their feelings in any way, there was not one, except Simon, his son, who was not rejoiced when they saw the tables turned upon their tyrannical teacher.
Dr. Musgrave hesitated, but Guy’s bold, resolute bearing convinced him that opposition would be useless.
If he could have retained Vivian Bell to the end of the term he would have had an opportunity to make him suffer, and thus obtained some satisfaction; but Guy saw through his scheme, and resolutely vetoed it. He would not allow Vivian to remain an hour longer, but declared his intention of taking him away with him at once.
When the doctor went inside to give orders about packing Vivian’s trunk, Jim Rawdon went up to Guy and shook hands with him.
“You are a brave boy,” he said. “I never enjoyed myself more than I have in the last half hour. It was fun to see the doctor under the lash.”
“I wish you could leave the school, too,” said Guy.
“I shall soon. I am in no danger of a flogging, though. The doctor doesn’t dare to flog me.”