J. Harwood Panting

“ They stared in wonder, and the wonder grew as Paul turned away and took his coat from Moncrief.
"I cannot fight," he murmured.
With his coat on his arm he hastened from the pit. Then the silence was broken by the Bedes. They howled, and jeered and hooted. And above the hooting and the jeers there rose the cry:
"The noble champion of the Gargoyles!"
Heedless of the shouting and the jeers, Paul walked swiftly away, as one seized with sudden fear. His own Form still remained silent. They might have been struck dumb. It was all so strange—so unexpected. ”

“ Trounce," said Paul firmly.
The threat had its desired effect. Hibbert uncovered his face; the sobs died away in his throat. Then Paul put an arm round him, as he might have done round a brother, and said, in a softer key:
"Look here, Hibbert—what your father may have done is no fault of yours. God only judges us by what we do ourselves; and that's all I want to judge you by. You've looked upon me as your friend; I want you to look upon me as your friend still. Haven't I said that nothing you can say will make me shrink from you?"
"How good, how noble you are, Percival!" ”

“ The man who had brought about "the sudden death" of his father, had ended his with tragic swiftness, and now stood before the Judge of all. The time for the last great trial had come for Israel Zuker.
"Before Him—before the Judge of all men," said Mr. Weevil, at length breaking the silence, "I hope to justify myself for what I have done, as well as for what I have left undone, but in the meantime I shall never forget the part that you have played, Percival. It is true, profoundly true, that no good deed is ever lost. Your kindness to Hibbert will ever be a sacred memory to me. ”

“ Again, Stanley was acting a part. At heart he felt miserable. The sadness of Paul's face haunted him, and as soon as he could he escaped from his companions to the solitude of the dormitory.
He had been puzzled all along how it was Paul had acted in such a cowardly way at the sand-pit. He knew that he had no love for fighting; but once having taken up the gage of battle, he was not one to shrink from it. What was it his father had said? That no braver youth could be found than Paul Percival. His uncle had the same opinion, and they were not the men to make mistakes. ”

“ Where hate flourishes, love cannot be. There is no room for the two. Never since the world began have they ever flourished side by side—never since the seeds of hate were planted by the serpent in the first garden, the Garden of Eden. Beware, then, of the seeds of hate!
From a fine sense of honour, Stanley remained silent. Now that he had struck Newall he had no wish to implicate him. He began to feel some pity for him as he saw the blood slowly trickling from his mouth.
"Am I to understand that you refuse to speak, Moncrief?" demanded Mr. Weevil angrily. Stanley remained obstinately silent. ”

“ As Plunger still refused to move, Paul took him by the leg and hauled him out.
Such a woebegone Plunger it was! His wiry thatch was more dishevelled than usual. The eyebrows seemed to have made a more desperate attempt than ever to invade the territory of the forehead. The self-assurance which had been the distinguishing mark of Plunger's manner had gone.
"Le' me go—le' me go!" he groaned. "I want to die!"
"Die!" Paul could scarcely refrain from laughing. "There's not much of that about you! You're not one of those whom 'the gods love,' so you'll never die young, Plunger. ”

“ But now that one of the Senior Form had taken up the baiting, Plunger had been compelled to give way to him. He was only a cipher in the mob of laughing, jeering boys who had gathered round Harry.
"Chest, twenty-eight inches. What a Samson it is!" jeered Newall. "All your own?" He tapped Harry smartly on the chest with his knuckles, as though he were testing it. "Yes, genuine article. You're a wonder—a perfect wonder! And what's the biceps! Eight inches! Why, it's a regular Hercules! It isn't every day that a marvel like you comes to Garside; so walk round and show your muscle, kid." ”

“ Extending his arms to their full extent Paul could just feel the walls on either side. He proceeded still more slowly, straining his ears to catch the sound of footsteps. All was silent. It was the silence of the tomb.
"My stars, what a queer place! I wish I could only strike a light, so as to have a peep at it," thought Paul. "What can Mr. Weevil do down here? It isn't a cheerful place, even for a man who happens to be very much in love with his own society."
He came to a sudden pause. What was the use of exploring the tunnel further? He could see nothing, hear nothing. ”

“ The workmen had made fast the raft to a stake at the side of the river, and, having received their wages, hastened off at the stroke of twelve. No one heeded Plunger. A few minutes later, Harry came up with Hibbert, who was trying to look as happy as possible under the circumstances, but was nevertheless far from comfortable. The river always seemed so cruel to him—so treacherous. And somehow it had seemed more cruel, more treacherous, since Paul had told him the story of his father's death.
"All serene, Harry," cried Plunger. "The road's clear. We've got it all to ourselves." ”

“ Newall continued shouting his threats at the top of his voice for a few moments before he discovered that no one was on guard outside; then he flung open the door, and dashed through with a yell, just as Arbery, Parfitt, Hasluck, and others of the Fifth had started for the shed. They came to a sudden stop when they saw the extraordinary figure that rushed towards them in the darkness. And well they might, for Newall, smothered in feathers from head to foot, presented one of the most extraordinary sights it is possible to imagine. ”

“ It made me a hero here; but since I've begun to think a little I feel very far from a hero myself. It would have been far better had I never fought. It has made bad blood between you and Moncrief; it took from you your best friend, and set your school against you. It did worse than that; it has widened the breach between St. Bede's and Garside, and deepened the old feud, which was beginning to die out. And now that it has been stirred into a flame again, it will take longer than ever to die out."
He paused for a moment, as though deep in thought. Paul, too, was busy with his own thoughts. ”

“ Percival answered. "His father—that is to say, your grandfather—lived in the time when there was such a great scare about wicked Napoleon invading England; but that is long ago, and it was all ended by Nelson's last great victory at Trafalgar. Ah, Paul, these scares and wars are terrible. I sometimes think that it must be monsters ruling the world rather than men. If the prayers of mothers and wives and orphans could only be heard, I am sure that war, and the danger of war, would soon be over. But why are you worrying about an invasion?" ”

“ That's the worst of names. You never are consulted. It's all done for you by your ancestors, and your godfathers and godmothers—and people of that sort. I don't know why it should be, but it is; and there you are—fixed up for life with a name, unless you happen to be a girl, and get married, then you drop it for another, but it may be ever so much worse than the one you've got. Now, what I say is this—Baldry isn't such a bad name, as names go, is it, Moncrief?"
"Better than Plunger, any day," remarked Harry, in his most sympathetic manner.
"Better than Plunger, as you say, Moncrief. ”

“ We are your witnesses," said Parfitt.
"Thanks!" And without waiting an answer from Paul, the three passed on. Not that Paul had an answer to give. He could not have spoken had his life depended on it. He was too staggered; too pained. Never speak to Stanley again! He with whom he had been on the closest terms of friendship ever since he had been at Garside!
"Had he listened to me for a few moments I could have explained all. He doesn't dream who Wyndham is. He can be as stubborn as a mule. And what a look he gave me!" thought Paul. ”

“ An officer, with a bronzed, noble face swiftly entered, and seized the spy at the dispatch-box. The spy threw himself at the officer's feet and pleaded for mercy. Paul saw it all as clearly as though it were on a screen before him. Looking at the spy's face, he knew it for Zuker. Looking at the officer's face, he knew it for his father's.
As the scene faded, he felt that he, too, must spring out on Zuker and denounce him. "Spy—traitor! You're the man who tried to betray my father! You are the man who would betray Britain!" ”

“ When I lay awake at night-time I kept saying to myself, 'If I should die without seeing Percival again, without telling him what is on my mind, God would never forgive me.'"
"If all of us were as good as you, we should be a good deal better than we are, and God wouldn't have to forgive much," said Paul tenderly. "But, there, don't get excited, and I will listen."
For Paul could now see clearly enough that Hibbert had really suffered a good deal of mental pain and torture through not being able to complete the confession he had begun to him. ”

“ But how much was to happen before Hal Moncrief had finished at Garside. Neither could see into the future—behind that veil which young and old are ever trying to peer through, but which God in His infinite love and mercy keeps ever close drawn. That lamp of His—the lamp of which the card spoke at the end of the dormitory—is for ever burning, however, and there is no fear of our footsteps stumbling so long as we walk by its light. ”

“ What news?" came the voice of Zuker.
Weevil! Paul crept again to the curtain, and peered through the side. It was the master, sure enough. He wore a cape, with the collar turned up and buttoned tight round the chin.
"Still the same," answered the master.
"No change?"
"No change to speak of. Sometimes he's a little better; then he goes back again, and is worse. Poor little chap! it makes my heart bleed to see him."
Then Paul knew they were speaking of Hibbert.
"Your heart! What of mine?" exclaimed the man fiercely. "You always speak as though you were the only one who cared for the boy. ”

“ Moncrief's riding-whip—sharply on the other man's face.
With a cry of mingled rage and pain the man dropped the bridle.
"Good Falcon—good. Now!" cried Paul, urging the horse forward.
The second man made a lunge at the horse. Falcon, as though fully alive to the need of getting away, bounded forward like a dart along the road. It went forward at a breakneck speed, quivering in every limb, as though feverishly anxious to place as great a distance as possible between Paul and his pursuers.
"Thank God, thank God!" Paul murmured, overjoyed at their escape. "What a noble horse it is. ”

“ And listen, Brockman, we must not make that false step. We made one on that night we let the boy get through with the cipher to Redmead. We must not make another."
Paul's ears tingled as he listened. Notwithstanding the peril in which he stood, his heart beat with joy. The words of Mr. Moncrief came back to him: "You have not only done a great service for me and my brother, Paul, but for your country." He had almost forgotten those words in the whirl of events that had since happened at Garside, but now they came flashing back, shining out vividly as a beacon in the darkness around him. ”

“ Paul had felt it even more than he dared admit to himself that Stanley had not come forward on the previous day and given him a helping hand when he was struggling along with Hibbert.
"How could he dream that anything serious had happened unless he inquired?" he asked, with some bitterness. "Did he really send that message?"
"Really."
"It's very kind of him. When you next see him say how obliged I am. It's nice to find people so thoughtful, though it may be a little late in the day."
Harry felt uncomfortable. He could detect the accent of bitterness underlying the words. ”

“ Then the bright eyes went again to Paul's face and rested there.
"I'm glad to hear that, Hibbert," said Paul, taking the thin hand in his. "You must make up your mind to get off that bed as soon as possible, mustn't he, Mrs. Trounce?"
"Just what I tell him," said the matron, cheerfully, for she knew the value of cheerfulness on the spirits of a patient. "If he makes up his mind to it, he'll soon be about again."
"It's astonishing what we can do when we set our teeth hard, and go for a thing," continued Paul, adopting her cheerful tone and manner. ”

“ He who knows the motives as well as the actions of all men, will alone know which of these theories is the right one. God be merciful to him, as to me, miserable sinner."
Mr. Weevil stood with bowed head. And as he breathed, thus reverently, the response he had so often heard, Paul felt his mother's hand stealing into his, as it had so often stolen into it in the village church in days gone by, when the good vicar read the Litany, and prayed for deliverance from "lightning and tempest, from plague, pestilence, and famine; from battle and murder, and from sudden death." ”

“ Moncrief stood well up to him, but it was no good. He was knocked down once or twice, until Newall, who was backing him, you know, threw up the sponge. Moncrief would never have given in himself. I never saw a fellow look so wretched and miserable as he did when, after coming to, they told him it was all over and he had lost. But the fellows cheered him for his pluck, and some of the Beetles joined in after they had shouted themselves hoarse over their own champion, especially that little turncoat, Mellor. He shouted himself black in the face."
"Wretched and miserable, you say?" repeated Paul. ”

“ CHAPTER XI FOR THE HONOUR OF THE FORM
Paul was grieved at the turn things had taken. Just at the moment when he thought the quarrel ended it had burst out again in a deadlier form. Stanley was very pale. His hands were clenched, as were the hands of Newall, and the passion that distorted the one face was reflected in a lesser degree in the other. Hate never was, and never will be, a beautifier of the face. Like some subtle acid, it makes ugly lines. You will never see those lines in a beautiful or noble face, boys and girls. So, if you want to keep from getting ugly, never hate. ”

“ Paul could scarcely believe his ears. Had he heard Mr. Weevil aright?
"He seems to look forward eagerly to your visits, more than to the visits of anybody"—a sigh, so slight as to be almost imperceptible, escaped the master's lips. "It would be cruel to debar the poor little fellow from any pleasure we can give him. Therefore, Percival, I hope you will understand that you are quite at liberty to visit him when you feel inclined." ”