THE GAYTON SCHOLARSHIP

A SCHOOL STORY

BY

HERBERT HAYENS

Author of "At the Point of the Sword," "An Emperor's Doom," "Clevely Sahib," "Under the Lone Star," &c. &c.

THOMAS NELSON AND SONS London, Edinburgh, and New York 1904

CONTENTS.

THE DEANERY CANDIDATES

THE CHALLENGE SHIELD

A NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH

FURTHER NEWS OF THE "MORNING STAR"

JIM STARTS WORK

THE EXAMINATION

"IT'S ALL MY FAULT"

"DID I SAVE HIM?"

THE RESULT OF THE EXAMINATION

GOING DOWN HILL

IS JIM A THIEF?

WHERE IS THE MISSING MONEY?

AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE

CURLY AND COMPANY

"WHEN THIEVES FALL OUT"

A FRESH START

A STARTLING SURPRISE

THE GAYTON SCHOLARSHIP.

CHAPTER I.

THE DEANERY CANDIDATES.

"Good-morning, Mrs. Hartland. Isn't Jim ready? All right; I'll wait for him. Do you think Susie would care for these wild flowers and grasses? I picked them this morning. Rover and I have been for a splendid run over the common, nearly as far as the forest."

"Thanks, Dick," said Mrs. Hartland, with a pleased smile; "Susie will be delighted with them. Poor girl! it's little chance she has to see them growing herself. What a pretty white dog-rose!"

"Isn't it a beauty? I thought Susie would like that.—Hullo, Jim!" as his chum appeared from an inner room; "come on, old lazy-bones. I expected to find you in a tremendous hurry this morning.—Good-bye, Mrs. Hartland; I hope Susie will be pleased with the flowers."

Most people liked Dick Boden. He was a comical youngster, fond of all kinds of fun and frolic, and always keeping an eye on the bright side of things. In school he was a regular pickle, and yet his teachers spoke well of him, for there was nothing mean about Dick, and he was as honest as the day.

"Full of animal spirits and a trifle impetuous, but a good little chap at bottom," said Mr. Holmore, the head-master of the Deanery School.

He was a round-faced, curly-haired fellow, with laughing blue eyes, a most engaging smile, and such an innocent expression that a lady artist once painted his portrait as a study of an angel. This greatly amused the Deaneryites, who promptly dubbed him the Angel.

Of course he was very popular with his school-fellows, but his one particular chum was Jim Hartland, a sailor's son, and one of the head boys in the school.

"Grinding for the exam.?" he asked, as they waved a last adieu to Mrs. Hartland, who stood on the doorstep watching them as they went down the street.

"Hardly," said Jim, "until we know who are to be the candidates."

"Oh, you'll be one for certain, and Perce Braithwaite another."

"And you."

"If Holmore gives me the chance, I'll work like a nigger for the honour of the school. The scholarship wouldn't be any good to me though; it only pays for the fees and books, and you have to stay till you are sixteen. Mother couldn't afford to keep me at school as long as that."

There was at this time great excitement among the boys of the elementary schools in the seaport town of Beauleigh. The governors of Gayton Public School had offered a scholarship, to be competed for by three selected candidates from every school in the town, and the offer had produced a feeling of intense rivalry.

The names of the chosen boys from the Deanery were to be made known that morning, and every one was on the tiptoe of expectation.

"We're late," said Dick, as the two boys turned into the long, straight road leading to the school, "most of the fellows are in the playground. I'll race you to the gate. Ready? One, two, three—off!" and away they sped for a good two hundred yards' run.

Jim was the taller and stronger, but Dick was very nimble, and having got the lead, he kept it. On they went, flushed, panting, and straining every nerve, while a group of boys coming from the opposite direction encouraged them with loud cries.

"Keep it up, Angel!"

"Another spurt, Jim; he's nearly done!"

Dick's legs were getting tottery, and Jim was close on his shoulder, but the open gate was only ten yards off, and the plucky youngster pulled himself together for a last effort.

"Jim's got him!" "No, no; the Angel wins! the Angel wins!"

A yard from the gate they were neck and neck; but then, using up all his remaining strength, Dick flung himself forward—the winner by scarcely half a foot.

Unlucky Dick! In the excitement of the last half-second he had gone like stone from catapult straight against the vest pocket of a portly gentleman who was strolling leisurely across the playground to the gate. Jim's onset completed the mischief, and the three rolled together on the ground.

The boys in the road, unable to see the catastrophe, ran up with a brisk "hurrah." But suddenly every tongue was still.

If you have ever felt the shock of an earthquake, or been shipwrecked, or in a railway collision, you will have some faint idea of the fright which held the handful of Deanery boys spellbound.

"The inspector!" whispered Tompkins in a tone of awe, and a shiver ran through the little crowd.

Then, as the gentleman and boys rose to their feet, Tompkins, with an imbecile kind of smile, said, "Please, sir, it's only the Angel!"

Only the Angel! Had His Majesty's Inspector been a Deanery boy he would not have required any further information. As it was, the look of surprise in his face deepened.

Now Dick, with all his faults, was a little gentleman. His face was white and his voice husky, but, standing cap in hand, he said bravely, "I am very sorry, sir. We were racing, and Jim Hartland had almost caught me, so I put on a last sprint, and—"

"And won?"

"Yes, sir," answered Dick modestly; "but Jim was close behind."

"Yes," observed the gentleman with a grim smile, "I am painfully aware of the fact. However, there is not much harm done. Ask your master to lend me a brush."

"Isn't he a brick?" said one of the boys as they ran to their places. "He didn't even look angry. Have you hurt your leg, Jim?"

"It's a bit painful—that's all."

"I hope it will be right for the match to-morrow." And then, at sound of the bell, all talking stopped, and the boys marched into the assembly hall.

After prayers, the inspector, looking none the worse for his mishap, came into the room and talked with Mr. Holmore, who then proceeded to make a little speech concerning the Gayton Scholarship.

"You know," he said, "that only one boy can win it, and there will be candidates from nearly every school in the town. We have three good champions, and whether they obtain the great honour for the Deanery or not, I am sure they will do their best. Come to the desk as I call your names. Richard Boden."

There was a hum of pleasure as Dick went up, flushed with joy, yet feeling rather uncomfortable at having to face the inspector a second time that morning.

"Percy Braithwaite."

A well-dressed, spruce-looking boy, known as Dandy Braithwaite, came forward with alacrity and, to the delight of the school, was followed by James Hartland.

"Now, boys," said their master, "I hope your work will show we have made a wise selection. Remember, once your names are given in, we cannot make any alteration." Then turning to the inspector, he added, "These are our candidates, sir."

"Ah," exclaimed that gentleman genially, "I have made the acquaintance of two of them, Mr. Holmore, and I can assure you they are tremendous fellows—at a sprint.—Well, my lads, one thing is certain: this scholarship won't be gained without plenty of hard work. The chosen knights are buckling on their armour in every quarter of the town, and the tournament will be a keen one."

Fortunately, school closed at noon for the day, as the boys were too excited to pay much attention to lessons. They were well satisfied with their master's selection, and many of them at once put down the scholarship as a "good thing" for Jim Hartland.

Some thought Braithwaite might get it, others pinned their faith to Dick Boden, "if the little beggar would work;" and when one wretched urchin hinted that the St. Paul's boys had won a lot of prizes lately, he was promptly "sat on."

"It's bound to come to the Deanery," declared Tompkins, who was himself still struggling with the mysteries of long division. "The only question is, Who's to get it?"

Then the talk turned to the great cricket match fixed for the next day, which was to decide the possession of the challenge shield for the following year. St. Paul's held it, but the Deanery intended having a good try to wrest it from their near and dear rivals.

"Hartland's in fine form," said one. "You should have seen him hit at practice yesterday. If he comes off we ought to stand a chance."

"And the Angel's bowling a treat! I don't think the 'Magpies'" (as the St. Paul's boys were called) "will do much with his curly ones."

"He bowled the inspector out before school, didn't he?"

They were still laughing at the recollection of Dick's mishap when Simpson, the reserve man of the team, came up, trying, but with poor success, to look sorry.

"Heard the news, you fellows?" he asked. "Hartland's cricked his leg and won't be able to play."

The boys gazed at one another blankly, hoping against hope that the news was not true.

"There he is," cried one suddenly; and sure enough there he was, leaning on his chum's arm, and hobbling slowly across the playground.

They crowded around him eagerly, asking more questions than could be answered in a week.

"What's the matter, Jim?"

"Can't you play?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Hurt!" cried Dick scornfully. "Of course not! He is doing this just for fun, you silly duffers."

"It isn't much," exclaimed Jim, "and I'll play to-morrow if I can stand. We'll have that shield yet."

"Anyhow," said Dick, with a laugh, "if Jim can't turn out, we have Simpson to fall back on," at which the Deanery boys shook their heads doubtfully. They had no very high opinion of Simpson's powers.

"I'm awfully sorry," said Dick ruefully, as the two chums went up the road. "There'll be no practice for you this afternoon, at all events."

"No," agreed Jim. "I'd better lie by till the morning. Never mind, old chap; it wasn't your fault; and besides, I shall be all right. Mother will see to that, I'm glad the match is to-morrow. We'll have a good try for the shield, and then peg away for the scholarship."

"Won't the Magpies get their monkey up if we pull off both? What a beastly nuisance! There's Temple coming!"

Temple was the captain of the St. Paul's team—a tall, nice-looking lad, immensely proud of his school, and noted for playing the game like a true sportsman.

"Hullo, Hartland!" he cried; "crippled? I say, that's hard lines on the Deanery. I wonder if the committee would put the game off for a week?"

"No, no," said Jim; "it isn't much. I shall turn up in the morning."

"You're a brick, Temple," exclaimed Dick, "and a jolly good sort, though you are a Magpie. 'Pon my word, I'm half sorry we're going to take that shield from you."

"And you're a little humbug," laughed Temple, giving him a playful dig in the ribs.—"Take care of yourself, Jim. I wouldn't give a toss to beat the Deanery if you're out of the team."

"Proper sort of chap, ain't he?" said Dick, when the Magpie passed on. "Just fancy his proposing that the match should be put off! My stars, there aren't many captains who would do that. How's the leg now?"

"Painful rather, but 'twill be better when I lie down."

Dick helped his chum home; and while Mrs. Hartland doctored the bruised limb, he chatted gaily with Susie, telling her all about the match and the scholarship, and making merry jokes for her to laugh at.

Owing to a weak spine, Susie spent most of her time lying on the sofa; but she was a bright, intelligent girl, very fond of mischievous Dick, and immensely proud of her brother.

She was very glad when her mother said Jim's leg would soon be well, for this cricket match was to be a great event in her life—a gleam of gold in a gray sky.

Mrs. Hartland had hired an invalid chair, and the two boys had promised to take her to the county ground, where the game was to be played.

"I do hope it will be fine," she exclaimed rather wistfully, for there were few pleasures in her life.

"It's bound to be," cried Dick, with a merry laugh. "The sun will come out on purpose to see you. Now I must be off for the practice. Give Jim plenty of goose-grease, Mrs. Hartland, and make him stay in bed till the last minute.—I'll be round in good time in the morning, Susie.—Ta, ta, Jimmy. This will teach you not to go about knocking inspectors over in the future."

"I like that," said Jim. "Why, you little fraud—"

But Dick had picked up his hat, and was outside the door before he could finish.

CHAPTER II.

THE CHALLENGE SHIELD.

Susie's eyes sparkled and her face beamed with pleasure as she lay in the invalid-chair, with her head propped up by soft, cozy pillows. The boys had found a splendid spot for the carriage, while her mother and Mrs. Boden sat beside her. And to make her happiness complete, Jim had declared that his leg was not in the least bit painful.

"Isn't it prime?" said Dick, who had come over for a last word. "You'd never have guessed we could be such awful swells. There's the mayor in the pavilion, and no end of big-wigs with him."

"Where's Jim?"

"Oh, he's tossing with Temple, and he's lost too; our fellows are coming out to field."

It was an ideal day for cricket. The sun shone brightly, but a cool breeze tempered its heat, making it pleasant for players and spectators alike. The ground was packed with people, who cheered heartily as Jim led his team into the field.

Hundreds of boys were there, some sporting the Magpie colours, others the blue and white favours of the Deanery, while many of the principal men in the town had come with their wives and children to watch the final struggle for the challenge shield.

Only one innings was to be played by each side, and Dick started the bowling. The opening was sensational: his first ball scattered the batsman's stumps, and in the same over another man was caught and bowled.

Two wickets down and not a run scored! The Deanery boys were wild with delight. They flung their caps in the air, and began debating where it would be best to hang the shield.

Their joy did not last long, however. Temple had gone in, and he was hitting the ball to all parts of the field without giving a chance. In vain Jim changed his bowlers and rearranged his field. Until he had made 69, the doughty batsman defied every attempt to dislodge him. Then, getting hold of a curly one from Dick, he sent it spinning high and hard to the boundary.

The Magpies cheered and clapped their hands; but, as Dick afterwards remarked, they were "a little too previous." Jim was fielding "in the country," and he did not often miss a catch. He had hard work this time though; but he just managed it, and a welcome roar burst from the Deanery boys as he threw the ball into the air.

"Well caught! well caught, Hartland!" they cried, for Temple was their most dangerous opponent, and now that he was gone they felt on better terms with themselves.

Still the score gradually crept up, till, by the time the last man was out, the board showed the respectable total of 157.

Susie had very hazy notions of cricket, and when Dick came over she wanted to know if the Deanery had won the shield.

"Won!" echoed Dick, opening his eyes wide. "Why, the match isn't over. We have to go in yet. There's Jim just walking to the wicket. Did you see that lovely catch he made? Mr. Barrow, a regular cricketing swell—plays for the county, you know—said it was as neat a bit of work as he'd seen on the ground."

Susie still felt very hazy about it, but she understood Jim had done something clever, and that was enough to make her happy.

Meanwhile the excitement over the match grew very keen. The Deanery innings opened well, fifty runs being scored for the loss of two wickets; but after that matters went badly.

One after the other, the batsmen were caught or bowled; and it seemed as if the captain could not get any one to stay with him for long.

When the seventh wicket fell for exactly a hundred, Dick began to whistle comically.

"There's only Archer to depend on now," said he, "and it isn't often he makes more than a dozen."

"Why don't you go in?" asked Susie.

"Oh, I'm last man. I'm no good with the bat. They only play me for bowling. Oh, well done, Archer! That was a pretty cut for two. I hope he'll get set."

"So do I," said the girl, though rather wondering what to 'get set' meant; and then Dick mystified her more than ever by remarking that if Archer got his eye in he might be good for a score.

"It makes all the difference if a fellow has his eye in, you know," he said; and as this appeared reasonable, Susie agreed.

How the Deanery boys shouted when the board showed 120! And what a roar went up from the Magpies as, without another run added, Archer's bails went tumbling to the ground!

"A beastly yorker!" exclaimed Dick in a tone of deep disgust. "Well, I must be off. That's Crag going to the wicket now. He'd make a lot of runs, only he's so jolly nervous."

"The poor boy looks very pale," said Mrs. Hartland.

"O my aunt!" shouted Dick in an ecstasy of delight, "he's got a two off his first ball. Well done, Crag!"

The strain was intense now. The spectators watched every ball, and there were loud cries of "Play up, Deanery!" as the score kept creeping up.

Mr. Holmore felt as much excited as any of his boys, and he clapped his hands when 130 appeared on the board.

"Only twenty-eight to win," he said; "but I'm afraid the odds are too great."

"Hartland's good for these," said Mr. Laythorne Jim's class-master; "he is playing magnificently."

"Yes, whether we win or lose, it's a great day for him. Ah, I was afraid of it! Crag's out, and we still want twenty-five. Who is the last in?"

"Boden! I think we can abandon all hope of winning the shield this year."

The Deanery boys looked glum, but the Magpies beamed with satisfaction, for they all knew Dick. Though a good bowler, he had batting notions of his own which generally brought him to grief. He treated all balls alike, banging at each with a mighty swipe till a crash in the timber-yard told him it was time to retire.

"For goodness sake, be careful, Dicky," whispered Jim, as his chum passed him; "block everything, and keep your wicket up for once. I'll do the hitting."

"All right," grinned Dick. "I will, if I can remember."

There was a deep hush as he stood facing the bowler, and the Deanery boys hardly dared to breathe, for they knew too well that their erratic schoolfellow had an unhappy knack of missing his first ball. If Dicky played up to his reputation, all hope of winning the shield was at an end.

A profound sigh of relief broke from the friends of the Deanery, and they looked at one another in astonishment. Dicky had actually blocked the ball! The next was the last of the over, and then Mr. Laythorne beamed as Jim stood at the wicket.

A little luck and good management enabled Jim to take every ball in the over and to score eight; but the Magpies, still feeling sure of winning the match, whistled cheerfully. Temple would have Dick out in less than no time.

No boy needs to be reminded of the delightful uncertainty of cricket, and here was a splendid example. The Angel stood as if rooted to the ground, and never once attempted one of his mighty but erratic swipes. The cunning bowler tried every variety of dodge to tempt him, but Dicky was not to be coaxed.

The Magpies became impatient, and perhaps a little bit anxious. When Dick pushed the ball away a foot or two they cheered ironically, crying, "Well hit!" "Nearly a boundary!" etc., and advised him in sarcastic tones to run it out.

Dick grinned. He was enjoying himself immensely, and had no objection to any amount of chaff.

As the game proceeded, a magnetic influence seemed to pervade the air. A deep hush fell over the field; the spectators were afraid to turn their eyes from the wicket a second.

Jim had the ball again, and was playing like a professional. Twelve, ten, eight to win! A beautiful drive all along the ground reduced the required number to four, and the Deanery boys burst into a roar of cheering.