第 5 页

watch. The head-constable was sent for, and after examining the relics

of the case, he came to the same conclusion at which the rest had

already arrived, namely, that the watch could not have been stolen by

an ordinary footpad, but by some personal enemy of the schoolmaster's,

whose object was not plunder, but annoyance and injury.

To the population of Warley this solution was a very agreeable one.

The fact of a gigantic footpad being in the neighborhood was alarming

for all, and nervous people were already having great bolts and bars

placed upon their shutters and doors. The discovery, therefore, that

the object of this giant was not plunder, but only to gratify a spite

against the master, was a relief to the whole place. Every one was, of

course, anxious to know who this secret foe could be, and what crime

Mr. Jones could have committed to bring such a tremendous enemy upon

him. The boys at the school assumed a fresh importance in the eyes of

the whole place, and being encouraged now to tell all they knew of

him, they gave such a picture of the life that they had led at school,

that a general feeling of disgust was aroused against him.

The parents of one or two of the boys gave notice to take their sons

away, but the rest of the boys were boarders, and were no better off

than before.

Miss Scudamore was unshaken in her faith in Mr. Jones and considered

the rumor current about him to be due simply to the vindictive nature

of boys.

"Well, aunt," Tom said one day, after a lecture of this sort from her,

"I know you mean to be kind to us, but Peter and I have stood it on

that account, but we can't stand it much longer, and we shall run away

before long."

"And where would you run to, nephew?" Miss Scudamore said calmly.

"That is our affair," Tom said quite as coolly, "only I don't like to

do it without giving you warning. You mean kindly, I know, aunt, but

the way you are always going on at us from morning to night whenever

we are at home, and the way in which you allow us to be treated by

that tyrannical brute, is too much altogether."

Miss Scudamore looked steadily at them.

"I am doing, nephew, what I consider to be for your good. You are

willful, and violent, and headstrong. It is my duty to cure you, and

although it is all very painful to me, at my time of life, to have

such a charge thrust upon me, still, whatever it costs, it must be

done."

For the next month Mr. Jones' life was rendered a burden to him. The

chimney-pots were shut up with sods placed on them, and the fireplaces

poured volumes of smoke into the rooms and nearly choked him. Night

after night the windows of his bedroom were smashed; cats were let

down the chimney; his water-butts were found filled with mud, and the

cord of the bucket of his well was cut time after time; the flowers

in his garden were dug up and put in topsy-turvy. He himself could not

stir out after dark without being tripped up by strings fastened a

few inches above the path; and once, coming out of his door, a string

fastened from scraper to scraper brought him down the steps with such

violence that the bridge of his nose, which came on the edge of a

step, was broken, and he was confined to his bed for three or four

days. In vain he tried every means to discover and punish the authors

of these provocations. A savage dog, the terror of the neighborhood,

was borrowed and chained up in the garden, but was found poisoned next

morning.

Watchmen were hired, but refused to stay for more than one night, for

they were so harassed and wearied out that they came to the conclusion

that they were haunted. If they were on one side of the house a voice

would be heard on the other. After the first few attempts, they no

longer dared venture to run, for between each round strings were tied

in every direction, and they had several heavy falls, while as they

were carefully picking their way with their lanterns, stones struck

them from all quarters. If one ventured for a moment from the other's

side his lantern was knocked out, and his feet were struck from under

him with a sharp and unexpected blow from a heavy cudgel; and they

were once appalled by seeing a gigantic figure stalk across the grass,

and vanish in a little bush.

At the commencement of these trials the schoolmaster had questioned

the boys, one by one, if they had any hand in the proceeding.

All denied it. When it came to Tom Scudamore's turn, he said. "You

never do believe me, Mr. Jones, so it is of no use my saying that I

didn't do it; but if you ask Miss Scudamore, she will bear witness

that we were in bed hours before, and that there are bars on our

windows through which a cat could hardly get."

The boys had never used Rhoda's room after the first night's

expedition, making their escape now by waiting until the house was

quiet, and then slipping along the passage to the spare room, and

thence by the window, returning in the same way.

Under this continued worry, annoyance, and alarm, the schoolmaster

grew thin and worn, his school fell off more and more; for many of

the boys, whose rest was disturbed by all this racket, encouraged by

the example of the boys of the place who had already been taken away,

wrote privately to their friends.

The result was that the parents of two or three more wrote to say

that their boys would not return after the holidays, and no one was

surprised when it became known that Mr. Jones was about to close his

school and leave the neighborhood.

The excitement of the pranks that they had been playing had enabled

the boys to support the almost perpetual scoldings and complaints of

their aunt; but school once over, and their enemy driven from the

place, they made up their minds that they could no longer stand it.

One day, therefore, when Rhoda had, as an extraordinary concession,

been allowed to go for a walk with them, they told her that they

intended to run away.

Poor Rhoda was greatly distressed.

"You see, Rhoda dear," Tom said, "although we don't like leaving you,

you will really be happier when we are gone. It is a perpetual worry

to you to hear aunt going on, on, on--nagging, nagging, nagging for

ever and ever at us. She is fond of you and kind to you, and you

would get on quietly enough without us, while now she is in a fidget

whenever you are with us, and is constantly at you not to learn

mischief and bad ways from us. Besides you are always in a fright now,

lest we should get into some awful scrape, as I expect we should if

we stopped here. If it weren't for you, we should not let her off as

easily as we do. No, no, Rhoda, it is better for us all that we should

go."

Poor Rhoda, though she cried bitterly at the thought of losing her

brothers, yet could not but allow to herself that in many respects she

should be more happy when she was freed from anxiety, lest they should

get into some scrape, and when her aunt would not be kept in a state

of continued irritation and scolding. She felt too that, although she

herself could get on well enough in her changed life, that it was very

hard indeed for the boys, accustomed as they had been to the jolly and

independent life of a public school, and to be their own master during

the holidays, with their ponies, amusements, and their freedom to come

and go when they chose. Rhoda was a thoughtful child, and felt that

nothing that they could go through could do them more harm or make

them more unhappy than they now were. She had thought it all over day

after day, for she was sure that the boys would, sooner or later come

to it, and she had convinced herself that it was better for them.

Still it was with a very sad heart that she found that the time had

come.

For some time she cried in silence, and then, drying her eyes, she

said, trying to speak bravely, though her lips quivered.

"I shall miss you dreadfully, boys; but I will not say a word to keep

you here, for I am sure it is very, very bad for you. What do you mean

to do? Do you mean to go to sea?"

"No, Rhoda; you see uncle was in the army, and used to talk to us

about that; and, as we have never seen the sea, we don't care for it

as some boys do. No, we shall try and go as soldiers."

"But my dear Tom, they will never take you as soldiers; you are too

little."

"Yes, we are not old enough to enlist at present," Tom said; "but we

might go in as buglers. We have thought it all over, and have been

paying old Wetherley, who was once in the band of a regiment, to teach

us the bugle, and he says we can sound all the calls now as well as

any bugler going. We did not like to tell you till we had made up our

minds to go; but we have gone regularly to him every day since the

first week we came here."

"Then you won't have to fight, Tom," Rhoda said joyfully.

"No," Tom said, in a rather dejected tone; "I am afraid they won't let

us fight; still we shall see fighting, which is the next best thing."

"I heard in Warley yesterday that there will be a movement of the

army in Spain soon, and that some more troops will be sent out, and

we shall try and get into a regiment that is going."

They talked very long and earnestly on their plans, and were so

engrossed that they quite forgot how time went, and got in late for

tea, and were terribly scolded in consequence. For once none of

them cared for the storm; the boys exulted over the thought that it

would be the last scolding they would have to suffer; and Rhoda had

difficulty in gasping down her tears at the thought that it was the

last meal that she would take with them, for they had settled that

they would start that very night.

CHAPTER III.

ENLISTED.

It was a bright moonlight night when the boys, after a sad farewell

from Rhoda, let themselves down from the window, and started upon

their journey. Each carried a bundle on a stick; each bundle contained

a suit of clothes, a few shirts and stockings, a pair of shoes, and a

pistol. The other pistols were carried loaded inside their jackets,

for there was no saying whom they might meet upon the road. They had

put on the oldest suit of clothes they possessed, so as to attract as

little attention as possible by the way. After they had once recovered

from their parting with Rhoda their spirits rose, and they tramped

along lightly and cheerfully. It was eleven o'clock when they started,

and through the night they did not meet a single person. Towards

morning they got under a haystack near the road, and slept for some

hours; then they walked steadily on until they had done twenty miles

since their start. They went into a small inn, and had some breakfast,

and then purchasing some bread and cold ham, went on through the town,

and leaving the London road, followed that leading to Portsmouth, and

after a mile or two again took up their quarters until evening, in a

haystack.

It is not necessary to give the details of the journey to Portsmouth.

After the first two days' tramp, having no longer any fear of the

pursuit, which, no doubt, had been made for them when first missed,

they walked by day, and slept at night in sheds, or under haystacks,

as they were afraid of being questioned and perhaps stopped at inns.

They walked only short distances now, for the first night's long

journey had galled their feet, and, as Tom said, they were not pressed

for time, and did not want to arrive at Portsmouth like two limping

tramps. Walking, therefore, only twelve miles a day after the first

two days, they arrived at Portsmouth fresh and in high spirits.

They had met with no adventures upon the road, except that upon one

occasion two tramps had attempted to seize their bundles, but the

production of the pistols, and the evident determination of the boys

to use them if necessary, made the men abandon their intention and

make off, with much bad language and many threats, at which the boys

laughed disdainfully.

Arrived at Portsmouth, their first care was to find a quiet little

inn, where they could put up. This they had little difficulty in

doing, for Portsmouth abounded with public-houses, and people were so

much accustomed to young fellows tramping in with their bundles, to

join their ships, that their appearance excited no curiosity whatever.

Tom looked older than he really was, although not tall for his age,

while Peter, if anything, overtopped his brother, but was slighter,

and looked fully two years younger. Refreshed by a long night's sleep

between sheets, they started out after breakfast to see the town, and

were greatly impressed and delighted by the bustle of the streets,

full of soldiers and sailors, and still more by the fortifications and

the numerous ships of war lying in the harbor, or out at Spithead.

A large fleet of merchantmen was lying off at anchor, waiting for a

convoy, and a perfect fleet of little wherries was plying backwards

and forwards between the vessels and the shore.

"It makes one almost wish to be a sailor," Peter said, as they sat

upon the Southsea beach, and looked out at the animated ocean.

"It does, Peter; and if it had been ten years back, instead of at

present, I should have been ready enough to change our plans. But what

is the use of going to sea now? The French and Spanish navies skulk in

harbor, and the first time our fellows get them out they will he sure

to smash them altogether, and then there is an end to all fighting.

No, Peter, it looks tempting, I grant, but we shall see ten times as

much with the army. We must go and settle the thing to-morrow. There

is no time to be lost if the expedition starts in a fortnight or three

weeks."

Returning into the town, the boys were greatly amused at seeing a

sailor's wedding. Four carriages and pair drove along; inside were

women, while four sailors sat on each roof, waving their hats to the

passers-by, and refreshing themselves by repeated pulls at some black