Mike Page 4

  CHAPTER III

  MIKE FINDS A FRIENDLY NATIVE

  Mike was surprised to find, on alighting, that the platform wasentirely free from Wrykynians. In all the stories he had read thewhole school came back by the same train, and, having smashed in oneanother's hats and chaffed the porters, made their way to the schoolbuildings in a solid column. But here they were alone.

  A remark of Bob's to Firby-Smith explained this. "Can't make out whynone of the fellows came back by this train," he said. "Heaps of themmust come by this line, and it's the only Christian train they run,"

  "Don't want to get here before the last minute they can possiblymanage. Silly idea. I suppose they think there'd be nothing to do."

  "What shall _we_ do?" said Bob. "Come and have some tea atCook's?"

  "All right."

  Bob looked at Mike. There was no disguising the fact that he would bein the way; but how convey this fact delicately to him?

  "Look here, Mike," he said, with a happy inspiration, "Firby-Smith andI are just going to get some tea. I think you'd better nip up to theschool. Probably Wain will want to see you, and tell you all aboutthings, which is your dorm. and so on. See you later," he concludedairily. "Any one'll tell you the way to the school. Go straight on.They'll send your luggage on later. So long." And his sole prop inthis world of strangers departed, leaving him to find his way forhimself.

  There is no subject on which opinions differ so widely as this matterof finding the way to a place. To the man who knows, it is simplicityitself. Probably he really does imagine that he goes straight on,ignoring the fact that for him the choice of three roads, all more orless straight, has no perplexities. The man who does not know feels asif he were in a maze.

  Mike started out boldly, and lost his way. Go in which direction hewould, he always seemed to arrive at a square with a fountain and anequestrian statue in its centre. On the fourth repetition of this feathe stopped in a disheartened way, and looked about him. He wasbeginning to feel bitter towards Bob. The man might at least haveshown him where to get some tea.

  At this moment a ray of hope shone through the gloom. Crossing thesquare was a short, thick-set figure clad in grey flannel trousers, ablue blazer, and a straw hat with a coloured band. Plainly aWrykynian. Mike made for him.

  "Can you tell me the way to the school, please," he said.

  "Oh, you're going to the school," said the other. He had a pleasant,square-jawed face, reminiscent of a good-tempered bull-dog, and a pairof very deep-set grey eyes which somehow put Mike at his ease. Therewas something singularly cool and genial about them. He felt that theysaw the humour in things, and that their owner was a person who likedmost people and whom most people liked.

  "You look rather lost," said the stranger. "Been hunting for it long?"

  "Yes," said Mike.

  "Which house do you want?"

  "Wain's."

  "Wain's? Then you've come to the right man this time. What I don'tknow about Wain's isn't worth knowing."

  "Are you there, too?"

  "Am I not! Term _and_ holidays. There's no close season for me."

  "Oh, are you Wyatt, then?" asked Mike.

  "Hullo, this is fame. How did you know my name, as the ass in thedetective story always says to the detective, who's seen it in thelining of his hat? Who's been talking about me?"

  "I heard my brother saying something about you in the train."

  "Who's your brother?"

  "Jackson. He's in Donaldson's."

  "I know. A stout fellow. So you're the newest make of Jackson, latestmodel, with all the modern improvements? Are there any more of you?"

  "Not brothers," said Mike.

  "Pity. You can't quite raise a team, then? Are you a sort of youngTyldesley, too?"

  "I played a bit at my last school. Only a private school, you know,"added Mike modestly.

  "Make any runs? What was your best score?"

  "Hundred and twenty-three," said Mike awkwardly. "It was only againstkids, you know." He was in terror lest he should seem to be bragging.

  "That's pretty useful. Any more centuries?"

  "Yes," said Mike, shuffling.

  "How many?"

  "Seven altogether. You know, it was really awfully rotten bowling. AndI was a good bit bigger than most of the chaps there. And my pateralways has a pro. down in the Easter holidays, which gave me a bit ofan advantage."

  "All the same, seven centuries isn't so dusty against any bowling. Weshall want some batting in the house this term. Look here, I was justgoing to have some tea. You come along, too."

  "Oh, thanks awfully," said Mike. "My brother and Firby-Smith have goneto a place called Cook's."

  "The old Gazeka? I didn't know he lived in your part of the world.He's head of Wain's."

  "Yes, I know," said Mike. "Why is he called Gazeka?" he asked after apause.

  "Don't you think he looks like one? What did you think of him?"

  "I didn't speak to him much," said Mike cautiously. It is alwaysdelicate work answering a question like this unless one has some sortof an inkling as to the views of the questioner.

  "He's all right," said Wyatt, answering for himself. "He's got a habitof talking to one as if he were a prince of the blood dropping agracious word to one of the three Small-Heads at the Hippodrome, butthat's his misfortune. We all have our troubles. That's his. Let's goin here. It's too far to sweat to Cook's."

  It was about a mile from the tea-shop to the school. Mike's firstimpression on arriving at the school grounds was of his smallness andinsignificance. Everything looked so big--the buildings, the grounds,everything. He felt out of the picture. He was glad that he had metWyatt. To make his entrance into this strange land alone would havebeen more of an ordeal than he would have cared to face.

  "That's Wain's," said Wyatt, pointing to one of half a dozen largehouses which lined the road on the south side of the cricket field.Mike followed his finger, and took in the size of his new home.

  "I say, it's jolly big," he said. "How many fellows are there in it?"

  "Thirty-one this term, I believe."

  "That's more than there were at King-Hall's."

  "What's King-Hall's?"

  "The private school I was at. At Emsworth."

  Emsworth seemed very remote and unreal to him as he spoke.

  They skirted the cricket field, walking along the path that dividedthe two terraces. The Wrykyn playing-fields were formed of a series ofhuge steps, cut out of the hill. At the top of the hill came theschool. On the first terrace was a sort of informal practice ground,where, though no games were played on it, there was a good deal ofpunting and drop-kicking in the winter and fielding-practice in thesummer. The next terrace was the biggest of all, and formed the firsteleven cricket ground, a beautiful piece of turf, a shade too narrowfor its length, bounded on the terrace side by a sharply sloping bank,some fifteen feet deep, and on the other by the precipice leading tothe next terrace. At the far end of the ground stood the pavilion, andbeside it a little ivy-covered rabbit-hutch for the scorers. OldWrykynians always claimed that it was the prettiest school ground inEngland. It certainly had the finest view. From the verandah of thepavilion you could look over three counties.

  Wain's house wore an empty and desolate appearance. There were signsof activity, however, inside; and a smell of soap and warm water toldof preparations recently completed.

  Wyatt took Mike into the matron's room, a small room opening out ofthe main passage.

  "This is Jackson," he said. "Which dormitory is he in, Miss Payne?"

  The matron consulted a paper.

  "He's in yours, Wyatt."

  "Good business. Who's in the other bed? There are going to be three ofus, aren't there?"

  "Fereira was to have slept there, but we have just heard that he isnot coming back this term. He has had to go on a sea-voyage for hishealth."

  "Seems queer any one actually taking the trouble to keep Fereira inthe world," said Wyatt. "I've often thought of giving him Rou
gh OnRats myself. Come along, Jackson, and I'll show you the room."

  They went along the passage, and up a flight of stairs.

  "Here you are," said Wyatt.

  It was a fair-sized room. The window, heavily barred, looked out overa large garden.

  "I used to sleep here alone last term," said Wyatt, "but the house isso full now they've turned it into a dormitory."

  "I say, I wish these bars weren't here. It would be rather a rag toget out of the window on to that wall at night, and hop down into thegarden and explore," said Mike.

  Wyatt looked at him curiously, and moved to the window.

  "I'm not going to let you do it, of course," he said, "because you'dgo getting caught, and dropped on, which isn't good for one in one'sfirst term; but just to amuse you----"

  He jerked at the middle bar, and the next moment he was standing withit in his hand, and the way to the garden was clear.

  "By Jove!" said Mike.

  "That's simply an object-lesson, you know," said Wyatt, replacing thebar, and pushing the screws back into their putty. "I get out at nightmyself because I think my health needs it. Besides, it's my last term,anyhow, so it doesn't matter what I do. But if I find you trying tocut out in the small hours, there'll be trouble. See?"

  "All right," said Mike, reluctantly. "But I wish you'd let me."

  "Not if I know it. Promise you won't try it on."

  "All right. But, I say, what do you do out there?"

  "I shoot at cats with an air-pistol, the beauty of which is that evenif you hit them it doesn't hurt--simply keeps them bright andinterested in life; and if you miss you've had all the fun anyhow.Have you ever shot at a rocketing cat? Finest mark you can have.Society's latest craze. Buy a pistol and see life."

  "I wish you'd let me come."

  "I daresay you do. Not much, however. Now, if you like, I'll take youover the rest of the school. You'll have to see it sooner or later, soyou may as well get it over at once."