R. A. H. Goodyear

“ The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune were coming too fast about his ears—it was more than human endurance could be expected to withstand!
He was soon bitterly angry with himself for this outburst of grief. He, the Captain of Foxenby, blubbering like a First Form kid with the toothache! A smile must be pumped up from somewhere for that last walk along the dormitories—poor old Roger's work if he had been there. It must never be said that Foxenby's Captain went to bed, on the first night of the term, with a countenance as long as a fiddle. ”

“ Though Dick made quickly for the outside-right's fine centre, Bessingham matched him. Their boots met the ball together, and the greater force of Bessingham's kick lifted Dick off his feet. He sprawled yards within the penalty-area, with a conviction that something awkward had happened to his big toe.
"Penalty, penalty!" roared some of the crowd. It is the habit of football spectators to claim free kicks when things like this happen. To eyes blinded by prejudice it looked as though Dick had been roughly kicked about, but the players and the referee knew better. ”

“ Forge and Lyon alone can be said to be up to the average bulk of your opponents. Ennis, your trusty goalkeeper, is certainly tall, but see how thin he looks! Almost like a third goalpost, you might say. Your forwards are fleet-footed to a man, and your halves are like terriers, ever worrying the foe.
But you can't get away from the fact that weight plays a big part in footer, and when a mass of bone and brawn has half a gale behind it to help it whenever it charges you, why, phew! you need all the pluck you can muster to pick yourselves up and start in afresh! ”

“ It runs thus wise:
"'Hail, Merry Men, ye Merry Men, ye Merry Men,
Who only rob the rich that they may help the poor,
Whose oaken cudgels crack the crowns of knaves,
Crowns of knaves, crowns of knaves!'"
"That's O.K., Robin," said Little John, in honest admiration. "But why shouldn't it be 'crowns of Squirms'? They're the enemy, aren't they?"
"Nay, my valiant John, dost want our first concert to break up in a brawl? Admission will be free to esquires and friars, villains and knaves alike. With their usual cheek, some of the Squirms will wriggle into the front seats. ”

“ If Grain had any serious hopes of stepping into Osbody's shoes at that moment, his disappointment must have been intense. Fully twenty of the Squirms were present, and they crowded round Osbody with assurances of loyalty that did them credit.
"You're right, 'Body," said "Professor" Vinns. "Revenge is sweet, and for once we'll have it."
"So we will," said Niblo. "At chess, draughts, and dominoes we'll make crawling worms of them. They shall taste the dust beneath our feet."
"Just as we shall taste the mud beneath their boots when the football match comes off," sneered Grain, savagely. ”

“ So meek and mild was the tone of this reply that the prefect of Holbeck's House might merely have been denying that he had been guilty of making a pun. Already he was edging furtively away, wishing, no doubt, that there were acres of green fields between him and this hard-eyed Captain of Foxenby.
"In other words," said Dick, "you call me a liar!"
"No, no, Forge!"
"Yes, yes, Harwood! Betting on a school match is bad enough—wagering against your own side is infinitely worse." ”

“ Spoken like a true optimist, Robin! But spectators cannot win games, however loyal they may be, and rose-coloured spectacles are as useless in football as in any other field of activity. Bluff could not disguise that the luck had again turned against Foxenby. The sun came out and shone in their eyes and the wind suddenly moderated. Forwards who had stood idly on the half-way line (glad enough to rest after their first-half exertions) now found it possible to pick up Bessingham's big kicks and move towards Ennis again. ”

“ The captain winced as he replied:
"You're as bad as the rest, Broome. This is football—a game—a match—British sport. Backs defend goals—forwards shoot them. Yes, I want St. Cuthbert's to score—if they can!"
His sympathy for the defence in their gruelling was acute, but he shammed indifference to it. Let the Cup be lost or won, none should say afterwards that the Foxes saved their goal by playing one goalkeeper and ten backs. Finer to be a dozen goals behind at half-time than that!
"Good old Dick!" shouted Roger from the touch-line. "Stick to your game, old man!" ”

“ We're not heroes of a sporting novel. Look at the crowd of Foxes round the ropes. They've come to laugh at us!"
"Perhaps they'll cheer us before we've finished."
"Rubbish! We're all as soft as putty. Given football a miss whenever possible. Hated the muddy misery of it. The Merry Men will tie us into every kind of knot."
"Shut up, fusspot!" said Osbody, with spirit. "It's rotten bad form to cry 'stinking fish'."
"Rather!" agreed Niblo. "Where's the sense of piling up imaginary goals against your own side, Grain? Grouse when they're actually scored, not before." ”

“ Players on both sides, brought to a standstill by the gruelling pace, seemed to have slipped out of the picture, leaving the centre of the field to Dick and the Octopus, two gladiators at ever-closer grips.
"Stick to him, Forge!" yelled Robin. "He's cracking up! You'll be his 'daddy' yet!"
"Old Bess lets nobody be his daddy," indignantly retorted Cuthy. "Your captain's only a kid beside him."
"Kid yourself!" snorted Robin. "Just you watch Forge, Cuthy—there'll be a hole in the back of this net shortly." ”

“ Consequently, the yard was thronged with boys, and through the study window, open at the top, it was possible at last to hear Rooke's House Rag being discussed.
"Class one, I call it. A reamer," declared a fresh young voice, raised high, as if in challenge. "Chews the ears off The Foxonian—makes a grocer's sugar-bag of it, by comparison."
Roger peered at Dick over his spectacles. "Hear that, my worthy editor?" he whispered. "The dulcet voice of Robin Arkness sings your praises. Bravo, Robin! Whatever lead he takes his 'Merry Men' are bound to follow. We've a doughty champion there!" ”

“ Neither desired to spoil a good football match by bearing each other company any longer. Oil and vinegar, these two!
"I have a rotten grain of suspicion in my nature, doubtless," thought Roger. "Still, Forge is captain of the football team and captain of the school—Luke Harwood would like to be both, and is neither. He knows Dick is strung on wires, and how small a thing upsets him on big occasions. This fool idea, then, of dressing the village idiot like a circus clown—is there method in his madness? Is there a secret hope that it will put Dick off his game?" ”

“ Never let it be said that Robin Hood and his Merry Men turned their backs on any peril, however dire. We will creep round them with stealthy, noiseless tread, and see if the varlets are doing their duty as nobly as they should, or, like the greedy Squirms, merely sleeping off the effects of pancakes. ”

“ It was the second of these big clearances which fell at the feet of Osbody, and that loyal young gentleman, slavishly obeying instructions, parted with his prize at once to Dick, past whom the Octopus had rushed in his praise-worthy endeavour to score.
"Offside!" yelled half-a-dozen Cuthbertian players in chorus. "Offside, sir!" they repeated, as the referee made no sign. "Whistle there, please!"
It is this insistence on teaching the referee his business which costs so many teams dear. ”

“ I took over The Foxonian as a going concern. Generations of Foxonians had edited it before me. It was almost as old and venerable as Nelson's monument. You had competition to face—your Rag was an infant in arms. I love rivalry—it stimulates me. Let nothing discourage you, old boy—keep right on making each number better than the last."
He faded away with his customary grace, leaving behind him a completely captivated Dick and a non-plussed and sour-visaged Roger.
"How now, Stormy Petrel!" cried Dick. "It's amusing to what extremes you carry your prejudice against Luke Harwood, Roger. ”

“ If I can't beat Robin Arkness at fire-making, I'll chew my boot-protectors for a week!"
Bold words. But there are days when fires simply will not burn as they should. Match after match was struck and thrust vainly into the newspapers which formed the foundation of the pile. Some black smoke rose in a languid way, but again and again a fitful breeze blew out the tiny flame.
"Somebody must be breathing hard," said Osbody, trying to hide his vexation beneath a show of humour. "Get round, boys, and fan it with your caps."
"Funny thing, this bad luck," Grain remarked. ”

“ As though to pile on misfortune, Clowes and Broome turned up by a later train—full of useless apologies, of course, but seemingly rather glad of the important difference which their absence from the side had made.
"I think, Forge, if you were to put it fairly to the Octopus, he would consent to us going on instead of Arkness and Osbody," said Broome.
"Don't make childish suggestions, Broome," said Dick. "And please don't flatter yourselves, either of you, that I'd take you on if I could. Better a willing pair of Juniors than a couple of slacking Seniors." ”

“ Everybody in Walsbridge had a bit on with me—and they backed St. Cuthbert's to a man. Consequence was, when that dotty waxwork of a mascot chipped in and spoilt the Foxenby centre-forward's goal, I lost a little fortune as clean as a whistle."
Dick stared at the bookmaker in unconcealed amazement and disgust.
"Do you say that people actually betted on the match—an amateur game between rival schools?" he asked. "It's preposterous—incredible!"
"Look here, sonny, how old are you—where were you brought up? You're either younger than you look, or grass-green for your age. ”

“ And we didn't half 'lam' Fluffy Jim for butting in and queering the pitch—eh, chaps, what?"
"Rather!" the Merry Men chanted, in fervent chorus.
"Oh, cut away—skedaddle!" cried Roger, losing patience. "You're shielding somebody, and that's a rotten thing for men of honour to do when Foxenby's reputation is at stake."
Leaving this barb to rankle, as he knew it would, in the hearts of the young adventurers, who prided themselves on being loyal to the core, Roger returned to the study which he and Dick Forge shared between them. ”

“ The donation, of course, was liberal, and it really seemed as though the sun-rays of prosperity were doing their utmost to dazzle Dick's eyes of late.
The financial foundation of the Rooke's House Rag was now firm. Its new issue, fresh in style and throbbing with life, infected the school with the light-heartedness of its editors, and did something more to restore the Captain to the popularity which he had previously enjoyed. Boys love the hero of an adventure. His star was in the ascendant again, and as it rose, the star of Luke Harwood sank. ”

“ The quite unexpected answer took him, metaphorically speaking, off his feet.
"Oh, please, Forge, will you sign your name in my autograph album?" asked Robin, producing from behind his back an oblong book in a somewhat grubby, red-leather binding.
"Why, kid, what's the game? No nonsense, now? I've a pretty rough way of dealing with Juniors who try to pull my leg."
"Oh, honour bright, Forge, I want your autograph ever so much," declared Robin with the utmost gravity. "Put it here, please, on the page I keep for footballers and boxers."
"Boxers! What are you driving at, you little monkey? ”

“ With angry cries the Merry Men jumped from their logs and made away from the reeking fire. The fumes had a strong suggestion of acid from the laboratory, making the vicinity of the fire an unhealthy place to stay in.
"Those caddish Squirms!" yelled Robin. "After them, my Merry Men, after them!"
Yes, Robin—a long way after them! Those quick-heeled Squirms have made the most of their start, and, run you never so fast in pursuit, you will not catch them, not even be sharp enough to see the direction they took. ”

“ Don't we get hidings enough without seeking them?"
"Who'll get a hiding?" argued Grain. "Not us, if anybody. Every master and prefect in Foxenby knows who prowls round this shrubbery. Supposing the matting is missed, then who'll 'click' the blame for it?"
"Robin Hood and his Merry Men," said Niblo. "I see your drift, Grain."
"Come, Osbody, be a man," Grain urged. "You can see there's no risk. Robin's 'put it across you' more than once lately. What a fine chance of getting your own back!" ”

“ Broome twice nearly did damage to the cross-bar, and one crafty "balloon" from Forge, over the heads of a bobbing mass of players, was scooped out of the top angle of the goal by the keeper's finger-tips only. Hundreds of hoarse throats yelled "Goal!" prematurely. It was only a corner, which tall Bessingham, the six-foot captain of St. Cuthbert's, leapt high to head away.
"Whose toes are you jumping on, clumsy?" grumbled the Junior Cuthbertian, sourly.
"Sorry, Cuthy—I couldn't help it," Robin confessed. "Simply can't keep still. It's our turn for a song and dance this half, you know." ”

“ The Cuthbertian forwards could never get round him. He was full-back and centre-half combined, kicking and heading with splendid accuracy, keeping Ennis's hands idle for half-an-hour, smothering every shot in the locker of St. Cuthbert's helpless forward-line.
"They'd never have scored in a blue moon if Osbody hadn't managed it for them," groaned Lake, at half-time.
Dick levelled a straight look at the grumbling forward. "Remember the proverb about people in glass-houses, Lake," he answered. "We haven't shown much scoring form ourselves." ”

“ Dick promptly blew his whistle and ran to the scene. "Free kick against you, Grain," he announced. "Don't be more like a windmill than you can help. It's dangerous!"
Grain smiled in a supercilious sort of way, and, folding his arms like a gladiator, contemptuously watched Dave take the free kick. To show how utterly a word in season was lost on him, the next minute he literally jumped, knees up, into Allan a Dale's back, sending that lightly-built and altogether harmless Merry Man somersaulting over the ropes. ”

“ The captain smilingly patted his arm. "Keep that dark, nipper," he advised. "Never mind how it happened. The score is all that matters!"
To face extra time with a strong sun in their eyes and a man short was quite on a par with Foxenby's usual luck. Shrill-voiced enthusiasts urged them to play the one-back game, but Dick's idea of football sportsmanship made such advice a waste of breath. He let Lyon, Ennis, and Lebberston hold the fort for a furious fifteen minutes; the only quarter-of-an-hour of the match in which the St. Cuthbert's forwards ever made workmanlike attempts to score. ”

“ I will take the kick myself."
What a moment of trial that was for the captain of Foxenby!
The goalkeeper danced about to put him off his shot, and the thud of his boots could be heard in the breathless silence of the crowd. Dick had an instinctive contempt for all forms of parade, and the custodian's ludicrous antics, intended to upset him, actually helped to steady his nerves. Drawing back one pace only, he suddenly let fly, and a low shot flashed under the goalie's feet as that too-animated Cuthbertian was actually jumping in the air. ”

“ Bessingham is a marvel. Bessingham is a brick. Three cheers for the Octopus and his wonderful team, you Foxes!"
Say, you should have heard the Foxes, yell then! The crowd joined in to a man, for everybody loved the Octopus, even those whose skin had been scraped off by his flying boots. They called on him for a speech now, and the reception he got when he drew up his lanky form to make it was every bit as deafening as the din that greeted Dick. ”

“ Robin shook his head sadly. "We can't," he groaned. "If we did, they'd never afterwards cease yapping at us. Oh, yes, I can see you staring at me, but what would you say, chaps, if Osbody put up his dukes to me in the Shrubbery and sang out 'Come on'?"
"We'd tell you to go for him, Robin, like old steam."
"Just so. It would be a challenge, and you'd expect me to take it. If he said, 'I'll race you up the Moston Church-side to the steeple', daft though that would be, I'd have to climb with him. Twig what I mean, boys? The Merry Men's reputation is at stake. We cannot refuse." ”

“ Now, why shouldn't Rooke's House be more in the picture? We're a robust lot, even though we don't wear the carpet threadbare on prize-giving days. They produce the most scholars; we turn out the athletes. Honours are evenly divided, but the Foxonian's space is not!"
"Granting all that, old spitfire, what remedy have we?"
"A rival paper," answered Roger, dramatically. "Nay, but me no buts. A rival magazine, sir, edited by Richard Forge, and to bear the name of Rooke's Home Rag. All in favour, hands up. ”

“ But are we not entitled to hope that good may yet come out of evil—that even the great Octopus may be unable to prevent us winning the replay by such a handsome margin that none can dispute our supremacy? Such a wish, I am sure, is in the heart of every Fox who witnessed that glorious and unforgettable game.'"
Roger stuck it through in silence, repressing an impatient gesture. Useless to "slate" Luke Harwood while Dick Forge so manifestly credited the Foxonian editor's loyalty. ”

“ No grass ever had the chance to grow long under Robin's feet. At once he called a meeting of the Merry Men in the quietest corner of Rooke's House, and put his proposal before them with infectious enthusiasm.
"Champion!" Little John voted the idea.
"It's a winner, Robin!" said David of Doncaster.
"I'll write a serial for it," said Allan a Dale.
"I'll draw some coloured butterflies," said the Miller.
"Put me down for some pictures of wild animals," said the Tinker. "I live in Regent's Park, outside the Zoo."
"Don't be bashful," observed Dave. "Say inside it, Tinker." ”