Читать книгу The Boy Tramps, or Across Canada - James Macdonald Oxley - Страница 5

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Another moment made it plain, for, just as Sangster's sinewy hands were about to encircle his waist, he suddenly sprang high in the air, and well to the left of his opponent, who, losing his balance in the effort to turn quick enough, fell over on his knees, while Arthur sped exultantly past him.

The outburst of applause that greeted this clever feat reached even Arthur's ears, and stimulated him for the task yet before him. He was now within fifteen yards of the goal, and five yards in front of it stood the full-back with every nerve and sinew attent, like a panther ready for his spring.

Arthur knew he could not repeat the trick that did for Sangster. But his resources were not yet exhausted. His quick mind evolved another no less brilliant.

When but five yards remained between him and the back he dropped the ball upon his toe, kicked it over the other's head, and then, having both hands free, used them to thrust his opponent aside, and, pressing past him, fell upon the ball as it lay just behind the centre of the goal, the most exhausted but happiest being on the ground.

It is one of the accepted statements of the school that never had the "Chief," as the beloved head-master was called for short, shown so much excitement at a football match. In spite of his at times provoking waywardness Arthur had a warm place in his heart. Indeed, he had supported Bruce's petition that he be allowed a place on the team, and this really admirable performance consequently gave him peculiar pleasure.

Amid a breathless silence the leather was placed, Arthur himself being assigned to hold it, and Bruce got into position for the kick. It was an easy one to make, to be sure, but many a place-kick fails, and there was anxiety on the Merchiston side and hope among those of Fettes.

As composedly as if it were an every-day occurrence, Bruce took a few swift strides, caught the ball fairly with the point of his toe, and away it went sailing over the uplifted hands and faces of the baffled opponents, full ten feet above the centre of the cross-bar. The touch-down had been duly converted into a goal, and the match was won for Merchiston.

Not one shadow of jealousy clouded Bruce's delight in Arthur's achievement. Under the special circumstances he was really gladder at heart than if he himself had been the hero of the day, and in his enthusiasm he threw aside all his reserve as he shouted and danced about in as lively a fashion as the youngest boy in the school.

Arthur's turn to be jubilant over his chum's powers came some months later when the annual cricket match with Loretto was played at Pinkie. Loretto, going first to the bat, had, in spite of the utmost efforts of Gray and Hutchison, the Merchiston bowlers, and the faultless fielding of the other players, amassed the threatening total of two hundred and fifty runs, the largest on record in the contest between these schools.

Bruce was captain of the Merchiston eleven, and his face grew more and more serious as the score rose steadily, until at last all the batters were out, and it was Merchiston's turn to wield the willow.

"Now, fellows, we've got to play for our lives," were his words as the eleven gathered about him for a minute. "There's not much chance of our matching their score, but we might make a decent draw if we play carefully. Let us all do our best."

Bruce went in first, taking Loney, the "barn-door" of the eleven, for his companion, and the excitement was unusually keen as the innings opened.

Arthur did not shine at cricket as at football, and on this occasion was fain to be content with a place among the spectators, whence his voice rang out from time to time in commendation of some pretty piece of work on the field.

The proceedings were tame at the outset, the Loretto bowlers being well on the spot, and neither of the batsmen caring to take any liberties with the well-pitched balls. But presently Bruce began to open his shoulders, and the score started to climb after the high mark set by the other side.

At the end of half an hour Bruce had got thoroughly set, and the bowlers were treated with scant respect. One clever cut followed another, varied by long drives to the off and to leg. The telegraph figures grew apace, and even stolid Loney caught inspiration from his captain, and made a gallant effort to emulate him, which unhappily cost him his "life," but not before he had compiled the respectable total of twenty, so that the score, first wicket down, stood at sixty-five, and the feelings of the Merchistonians took on a brighter hue.

None of the succeeding batsmen made so long a stand as Loney, yet they all contributed their share to the rapidly growing total, and meanwhile Bruce kept on hitting freely, and piling up runs in a way that left nothing to be desired.

At the end of two hours a rattling cheer, led off by Arthur, announced that Bruce had completed his century, and fifteen minutes later another cheer greeted the appearance of the figures 200 on the board.

The Loretto boys began to look anxious. The victory that seemed so securely theirs might yet be snatched from them. Nearly an hour of play still remained, and Barclay showed no signs of weariness or failing skill. There were five more wickets to fall, and so stubbornly were these defended that it took another half-hour to get rid of them.

Ten minutes before the time for drawing stumps the Merchiston score stood at two hundred and forty. As may be easily imagined the excitement was now intense, only ten minutes more to play, and ten runs yet to make to save a draw. All Merchiston, from the "Chief" down to the newest boy, held their breath as each ball was delivered, and gave a sigh of relief when it was well taken care of by the batsman.

Presently a roar of "Well hit! well hit!" and a fusillade of hand-clapping greeted a grand drive to the off from Bruce that cleared the boundary fence and was good for five.

Some anxious minutes of careful play followed during which Bruce's partner added two useful singles, and then just a moment before the call of time Bruce himself laid hold of a short-pitched ball on his leg side, and putting all his strength into the stroke lifted it far above long leg's head, and the match was won with two good wickets to spare.

Bruce had carried out his bat after being nearly three hours at the wickets, and having put together the splendid score of one hundred and twenty-eight runs, the highest ever made in a first-class school match in the history of Merchiston.

The ovation that he received as he walked back to the pavilion was enough to turn the head of any boy. Even the defeated of Loretto joined heartily in the cheers, and when the head-master wrung his hand warmly, exclaiming, "Nobly done, Barclay! I never saw better cricket in the school," Bruce felt that his cup of happiness was full to overflowing.

As may be readily understood the difference in the mental temperaments of the two lads showed itself very markedly in their studies. Arthur had great quickness of apprehension and a retentive memory, but chafed against routine work and sadly lacked steadfastness. Bruce, on the other hand, although slower to seize upon new ideas, forgot nothing that he had once learned, and had the power of pegging away patiently until the most difficult task had to yield itself to him.

As the close of the session drew near, Arthur showed a little deeper interest in his work, but Bruce kept steadily on at much the same pace as he had started.

When the prize list was published, both names appeared upon it, but with a big difference, for Bruce, besides winning the Chalmers Mathematical prize, had headed his class in Latin, German, and Chemistry, while Arthur had gained only one honor, and that, strange to say, on the very subject least likely to be congenial to one of his lively nature, to wit, Divinity. Like a true friend, however, he took as much pleasure in his friend's prizes as if they had been his own, and their last year at dear old Merchiston was the happiest of all, the only shadow being the fact that they must take their leave of a place where they had spent so many joyous days, and go out into a world of which they had so little knowledge.

Both Mr. Barclay and Mr. Rowe had provided liberally for the boys during their stay at Merchiston, and they had been able during the long holidays to join travelling parties visiting different parts of Great Britain and the Continent; but all this was a mere trifle compared with the experience that was before them now.

To the fathers in far-away Shanghai had gone regular accounts of their sons' progress, and they had been looking forward to the time when the course at Merchiston would be finished, and the boys could go out and show themselves for parental approbation ere their future course was decided upon.

As it was not advisable for them to reach Shanghai until the summer heat had passed, and they already had seen a good deal of the Old World, it was arranged that they should spend a couple of months travelling in the New World, proceeding to Shanghai in the autumn.

This entirely fell in with their inclinations. They had read much about the United States and the Dominion of Canada, and were eager to visit those countries, particularly Canada, because it was a British colony, and they thought they would feel much more at home there than they would among their American cousins.

The matter being left largely to themselves, it was finally decided that they should go to Canada first, and then, if they had any time to spare, a tour could be made of New York, Boston, Washington, and some of the other chief cities of the United States, before they went on to the Pacific Coast, where the steamer would be taken for Shanghai.

Thus it came about that the last week in June saw them on their way to Liverpool, with Merchiston and all the happy days spent there only a memory to be cherished through life.

It was the first time they had really been upon their own responsibility, and they both felt highly elated thereat, although Bruce, with his wonted reserve, managed tolerably well to conceal the fact.

But Arthur gave himself away with the utmost frankness. He strutted up and down the platform at the railway station like a young rooster on a sunny morning. He patronized the porters, and tipped the guard with what he flattered himself was the nonchalance of a globe-trotter. He lolled about on the cushions, affecting a fine indifference to the scenery, and letting it be understood that he was vastly bored by the journey, while all the time he was mentally hugging himself at his good fortune in getting off on this "grand tour" practically as his own master, and with the best friend he had in the world as his companion.

At Liverpool they went on board the fine steamer "Parisian" of the Allan Line, and were delighted at the stateroom which was to be theirs for the next ten days, and at the sumptuous fittings of the saloon.

"Won't we just have a fine time!" exclaimed Arthur, after they had got their things stowed away and were able to look about them. "There'll be lots of fun, you know, and Duffus, who's been across in this steamer twice, says the grub is prime,—as good as a Christmas dinner every day in the week."

"But suppose you're seasick?" suggested Bruce, with a quiet smile. "It won't make much matter how good the grub is then."

"Do you think I'm going to be such a fool?" answered Arthur indignantly. "No, sir, no seasickness for this child," and he set his feet firmly on the deck, and rested his hands on his hips.

Bruce discreetly said no more, although he felt pretty sure that both he and his chum would have to pay the usual tribute to old Neptune before they had been long at sea.

The trip down the Mersey was full of interest, the big steamer threading her way through the maze of shipping with an intelligent accuracy that made her seem like some huge living creature.

The weather being fine the boys spent all their time on deck, Arthur asking numberless questions of the officers and men, and already beginning to scrape acquaintance with some of the passengers, while Bruce kept more in the background, yet lost nothing of what was taking place.

They had appetites as keen as razors for dinner, and were among the first to respond when the summons came. They found the fare provided fully equal to their school-mate's description. From the point of view of their Merchiston experience, where the food had, of course, been more substantial than elaborate, as best befitted hearty boys, it was as good as a Christmas dinner, and Arthur devoted himself so assiduously to the different items of the lengthy menu that his vis-a-vis, a gray-beard traveller, leaning across the table with a humorous twinkle in his shrewd gray eyes, said in an undertone:

"That is right, my lad, make hay while the sun shines. You may want nothing but a bit of biscuit and a cup of tea this time to-morrow."

Kindly as the tone was in which the words were spoken, Arthur was quick enough to detect the touch of satire that underlay it, and it made him flush hotly.

His first impulse was to retort, "Will you be good enough to mind your own business?" but Bruce, who feared something of the kind, gave him a significant look, and what he did say was:

"That's all right, sir. I'll take my chances," and although it was not in the pleasantest tone imaginable, yet the old gentleman took it in the best of humor, and went on with his dinner, saying to himself:

"A fine-spirited boy that! I thought he was going to tell me to mind my own business, but he's evidently been better trained. I must find out who he is."

Not imagining that he had awakened any interest in his fellow-passenger, Arthur paid him no further attention, nor did he allow his intrusive remark to cast any cloud upon his enjoyment of the good things before him.

By the time the boys thought of getting into their bunks the "Parisian" was rolling about in the Irish channel at a rate that made the business of undressing by no means an easy task. Just as Arthur was trying to get out of his trousers the steamer gave a sudden pitch that, finding him unprepared, and unable to balance himself, sent him hard against Bruce, who was in his turn toppled over by the sudden impact, and the two boys fell in a tangled heap of legs, arms, bodies, and braces in the corner by the sofa.

They were soon on their feet again, laughing heartily and none the worse for the collapse, but Arthur, as he straightened himself out, became conscious of a dizziness in the head and uneasiness in the stomach that caused him to hurry off the remainder of his clothes and climb into his berth with as little delay as possible. He even omitted to say his prayers as was his wont, so pressing did he feel the emergency to be, and so anxious was he to give no vent of his feeling to his companion.

Bruce suspected the truth, notwithstanding, but was too considerate to make any remark. He knew quite well he had his own battle to fight, and was not disposed to be critical of others.

They had a very restless and uncomfortable night of it, as the "Parisian" pitched and tossed unceasingly; and when morning came Arthur realized that in spite of his rash boasting he had fallen a victim to the remorseless power of the sea, and that his place at the breakfast-table would be vacant for that morning.

He was too wretched to feel much concerned over this. His one thought was, how soon would he be himself again; yet, since misery loves company, he did find some consolation in the discovery that Bruce was no less upset, and that they were likely to fairly share the confinement to the stateroom.

"How long do you think we'll be like this?" he groaned, looking straight up at the ceiling, for he did not dare lean over the edge of the berth, Bruce being below him.

"Only to-day, I hope," responded Bruce, striving nobly to put a cheerful tone into his voice. "If we keep still all day we'll be right enough by to-morrow."

Keep still, indeed! The suggestion was easily enough made, but it was far from being easy of execution, with the great steamer apparently making frantic efforts to turn somersaults, and the boys' interior departments seeming to be in quick and distressful sympathy with her every movement.

However, thanks to the kind ministrations of an attentive steward, they did manage somehow to get through the long, dreary day, and the following morning being bright and clear with little wind, they succeeded in crawling out on deck, when the keen fresh air so braced them up that by dinner-time they felt equal to resuming their places at the table.

As the old gentleman who sat opposite to Arthur took his seat he gave him a pleasant nod of recognition which seemed to reply:

"Well, here you are again, but I was right, you see, after all."

And the boy, in a sudden impulse to frank confession of having boasted prematurely, leaned across with reddening cheeks to say:

"I didn't want even the tea and biscuit this time yesterday. I was awfully knocked up."

A bright smile broke over the gentleman's face.

"An honest confession is good for the soul, they say," he returned. "You've shown the right spirit, my lad, and I hope we shall soon become better acquainted."

That he was sincere in the expression of this hope was manifested when they all rose from dinner and went on deck, for as soon as he had lit his cigar he joined them, and introducing himself as Mr. Gillespie, of Montreal, availed himself of the privilege of age to ask them a number of questions about themselves.

They were soon deep in talk, Bruce, as usual, allowing Arthur to take the lead in the conversation, yet not in anywise standing aloof, but showing by his attentive listening and occasional shrewd remarks that he felt thoroughly at ease.

Mr. Gillespie, who had a houseful of sons at home, took a deep interest in the young travellers, and before the voyage ended gave them so cordial an invitation to spend some days with him in Montreal that they gladly accepted it.

The days slipped by very pleasantly upon the "Parisian," each one finding the boys' list of acquaintances extending until it embraced nearly all the first-class passengers, the chief exception being the men who spent their time in the smoking-room playing cards and drinking champagne with a zeal and zest that made it appear they regarded these occupations as the chief end of life.

Nor was Arthur content with the saloon as his sphere of activity. His eagerness for information took him all over the ship. He got himself spattered with oil in the engine-room, and grimy with coal-dust down among the furnaces. He even penetrated into the steerage, carrying cakes and fruit to the dirty-faced children that swarmed there like rabbits in a burrow.

To one of these youngsters, a pretty, blue-eyed, fair-haired German boy about five years of age, he took a great fancy, and one day brought him on the main deck to show him to Mr. Gillespie.

They were having a lively game of romps together when Arthur, picking up the child in his arms, held him over the railing to give him a bit of a scare; but, instead of being frightened, the little chap crowed and kicked so vigorously that Arthur lost his balance, and before he could recover himself the boy had slipped out of his grasp and dropped into the waves twenty feet below!