Don't be modest, man; you're sure to win,' said Gregson. 'You can do so if you like,' I replied; 'I have no intention to go back from my word.'

I said this half in joke and half in earnest, and no doubt we were all a little excited with the sport and with the lunch; but I never dreamed that Gregson was serious when he talked about putting in the advertis.e.m.e.nt in my name, and I shall not soon forgive him for getting me into such a fix. So, father, that's just all about it."

Mr Huntingdon listened to this explanation with much surprise and vexation, and then was silent.

"And what do you mean to do about it, Walter?" asked his aunt. "You surely won't let the matter go on."

"I don't see how I can help it," was her nephew's reply; "the challenge has been publicly given in my name."

"It can't be--it mustn't be," exclaimed his father angrily; "it's perfectly preposterous. We shall be the talk and the jest of the whole county. It will do harm, too, to the working-cla.s.ses. Why, you'll have all the idle vagabonds there. Some light-fingered and light-heeled poacher will win your sovereign--you'll be the laughing-stock of all the country round, and so shall I too. And such a thing, instead of encouraging patient industry and sobriety, will be just the means of giving heart to the idlers and the profligates. It must not be, Walter, my boy."

His son did not reply for some time; at last he said, "I don't see how I can back out of it; I've pledged my word. I'm sorry for it, and I'm willing to take all the shame and blame to myself, and all the ridicule, if I'm beaten. You may depend upon it I won't be caught in this way again, but I must go through with it now."

"Nonsense," said his father; "I don't see that at all."

"Perhaps not, father," replied his son; "but I can't go back from what I've said." These last words were uttered with a dogged determination of tone and manner which showed that Walter had made up his mind, and was not to be turned from his purpose.

Like his father, he had a considerable share of obstinacy in his disposition, and Mr Huntingdon could call to mind several occasions on which a battle with his favourite son had ended in the boy's getting his own way. And so, thinking further remonstrance useless, at any rate for the present, he let the matter drop, hoping, as he said afterwards to his sister, that Walter would come to his senses on the matter when he had had time to think the subject over coolly. But he was mistaken in this hope. Much as Walter was annoyed at having been thus taken at his word, which he had given half in jest, he nevertheless considered that he was pledged to abide by what had been advertised in his name and with his sanction. So on the day appointed there was a considerable gathering of working-men, and also of women and children, on Marley Heath, and this gathering swelled into a crowd as the time of trial approached.

Gregson and Saunders--who enjoyed the whole thing amazingly, and none the less because, as they had expressed it to each other as they came along, "Young Huntingdon would be none the worse fellow for getting a little of the shine and brag taken out of him"--were on the spot in good time, with several like-minded companions. These all gathered round Walter as he came on to the ground, and wished him good success, a.s.suring him that no doubt he would keep his sovereign safe in his pocket, and come off conqueror.

Poor Walter's reply to his friends was not particularly cordial in its tone, and made Gregson see that he must put in a word of conciliation.

"Come, old fellow," he said, "you must forgive me if I took you too literally at your word. I really thought you meant it; it will do no harm to anybody, and will only show that you've got the old Huntingdon pluck and spirit in you."

"All right," said Walter, but not very cheerily; "I'm booked now, and must make the best of it. How many are there who are going in for the trial, do you think?"

"We shall see," said Saunders, "if we wait a bit; it wants a quarter to four, still."

Everything was then duly arranged for the contest. A mile's course had been previously marked out, and a shooting-b.u.t.t set up, and also two poles with a leaping-rod across them. As the hour approached, several young men respectably dressed came up, and among them a powerful and active-looking fellow whose appearance was hailed by a general shout of mirth. His clothing was none of the best; his face was scarred in several places; and there was a free-and-easy manner about him, very different from that of the other compet.i.tors. He answered the loud laughter by which his appearance had been greeted with a broad grin and a profound bow of mock salutation. Each candidate for the trial had brought his gun with him, and stood prepared for the contest. Gregson and Saunders managed all the arrangements after a brief consultation with Walter.

Four o'clock had now come, and Gregson, having ascertained the fact by looking at his watch, brought the compet.i.tors forward, and informed them that the shooting would be the first thing, and that six shots would be allowed to each, the winner being of course he who should place the greatest number of marks nearest the bull's-eye. At the same time Gregson made it to be distinctly understood that the sovereign was only to be given to the man, if such should be found, who should beat Walter Huntingdon in all three things,--namely, in shooting, leaping, and running.

By his own request Walter came first. Whatever may have been his feelings of annoyance or reluctance up to this time, they were now completely swallowed up in the excitement of the moment and the desire to maintain the high reputation he had previously gained. So he threw his whole soul into the contest, and with steady eye and unwavering hand pointed his rifle towards the target. Bang! a cloud of smoke. Well shot! the bullet had struck the target, but not very near the centre. A second and third were equally but not more successful. The fourth struck the bull's-eye, the fifth the ring next it, and the sixth the bull's-eye again. Bravo! shouted the excited crowd; would any one beat that? Forward now came a sober-looking young man, and did his best, but this was far short of what Walter had achieved. Two others followed with no better success. Then came one who handled his gun very carefully, and took his aims with great deliberation. Three shots in the bull's-eye! here was a winner--would any one come up to him? Four more came forward, and two of these again scored three shots in the bull's-eye. And now the rough-looking man, who had excited the general mirth of the crowd on his arrival, took his stand opposite the target.

He gazed at it a full minute before raising his piece. There was a derisive t.i.tter throughout the spectators as at last he did so in an awkward style, and with a queer twist of his mouth. The next moment he was rigid as a statue cut out of stone. Flash! bang! the bull's-eye; again the bull's-eye; two more very near it; twice again the bull's-eye.

So he has made the best score after all. "I thought so," he cried, with a swaggering toss of his head and a jaunty whistle, and then with a flourish of his rifle high in air he strode back into the midst of the onlookers. Thus there were four of the compet.i.tors who had outdone Walter in the firing at the mark.

But the running and jumping yet remained to be contested. The jumping was arranged to come next, and the four winners in the shooting prepared to do their best against their young challenger: Walter was now thoroughly roused, and, taking off his coat, and exchanging his boots for a pair of light shoes, stepped forward to exert himself to his utmost. Higher and higher did he bound over the cross-rod as it was raised for him by his friends peg by peg. Jumping was a feat in which he specially prided himself, and loud was the applause of Gregson, Saunders, and their friends as he sprang over the rod time after time.

At last he failed to clear it, and his utmost was done. And now the previous winners came on in turn. The first who made the attempt soon gave in; he was clearly inferior to Walter in the high jump. The next surpa.s.sed him by one peg. The third equalled him. And now came forward the strange-looking man on whom all eyes were eagerly bent. He had divested himself of his coat and dirty neck-tie, and having kicked off his shoes, looked round him with a snort and a wild grimace, and then ran forward with a light, skipping step, and cleared the first stick without the slightest effort. Each succeeding height was leapt over with the same ease, till he had equalled the most successful jumper.

"And now for a topper," he cried, as the rod was raised by still another peg. Throwing all his energies into the effort, with a rush and a mighty bound he cleared the stick by nearly a foot, and danced gaily back to the starting-point amidst the vociferous applause of all present. Therefore Walter had now the two to contend with in the foot- race who had surpa.s.sed him in the high jump. The interest of the crowd was now at boiling-point, and all sorts of conjectures, opinions, and affirmations were circulated as to the issue of the trial, while the three who were to run were resting a while. At length, cheered on by the sympathising shouts of the impatient spectators, they placed themselves abreast, stripped of all superfluous garments, and at a signal from Gregson the race began. Walter commenced warily, husbanding his strength, and not quickening his speed till he had reached the middle of the course; the one of the remaining two did much the same.

As for the other, the wild-looking winner of the highest place in the two previous contests, he slouched along amidst peals of laughter all through the line. Nevertheless, it was soon evident that, although dropping behind a little in the first quarter of a mile, he was gradually drawing up nearer and nearer to the front. When Walter had accomplished three-fourths of his task, and was now putting on extra speed, the wild stranger, with a shout of "Victory for ever!" flung himself forward at a tremendous speed, and kept easily ahead to the end.

The two remaining racers now pressed on abreast till within a yard of the place from whence they started, when, by a last vehement effort, Walter's companion came in a foot or two in advance. All flung themselves on the gra.s.s, and when the hubbub of cheers and shouts had subsided, Walter rose to his feet, and holding out a hand to each of the victors, said with a laugh, "Fairly beaten."

Gradually now the crowd began to disperse, while the little band of compet.i.tors gathered round a cart which had been brought up by Walter's direction carrying some refreshments for himself and his friends, and those who had tried skill and endurance with him. When the provisions had been duly partaken of, Walter, taking out his purse, turned to those about him and said: "And now, to whom am I to give the sovereign, for two have beaten me?"

"Oh, to our friend here, of course," said Gregson, placing his hand on the strange-looking man's shoulder, "for he has done the best right through."

"Come forward, then, my man," said Walter; "and pray, may I ask your name?"

"Oh," said the man addressed, with a laugh, "every one knows my name-- Jim Jarrocks they calls me."

"Well, Jim, here's your sovereign, and you've fairly won it."

"Thank'ee, sir," said Jim; "and so has Will Gittins here, if I'm not mistaken."

"How do you mean?" asked Saunders; "the sovereign was offered to the best man."

"Them's not the terms of the advertis.e.m.e.nt," said Jim, taking the newspaper out of his pocket. "Here it is: 'I promise to give one sovereign to any man who shall beat me in a mile race, a high jump, and firing at a mark.' Now, I've done it and won my sovereign, and Will Gittins has done it and won his sovereign too."

It was even so. Two had fairly won the prize. So Walter, not with the best grace, felt in his purse for a second sovereign, which he handed to the other winner; and the two men walked away from the place of meeting arm in arm.

"Walter," said Gregson earnestly and apologetically as they left the ground, "I never meant this nor thought of it. I can't let you be out of pocket this second sovereign; you must allow me to give it you back."

But Walter declined it, spite of earnest remonstrance and pressure on his friend's part. "No," he said; "I've got myself into a nice mess by my folly; but what I've undertaken I mean to carry out, and take my own burdens upon myself." And so, notwithstanding the applause and fine speeches showered on him by his friends, Walter returned home considerably crestfallen and out of spirits, the only thing that comforted him being a sort of half conviction that he had shown a considerable degree of moral courage in the way in which he had stuck to and carried out his engagement.

As for Mr Huntingdon, his mortification was extreme when there appeared in the next issue of the county paper a full description of the contest, from which it appeared that his favourite son had been beaten in a public trial of skill by Jim Jarrocks, well-known all over the county as the most reckless poacher and unblushing profligate anywhere about, and had thus given encouragement to a man who was constantly before the magistrates for all sorts of minor breaches of the law. However, he felt that he must make the best of it, and he therefore spoke of it among his friends as a bit of foolish practical joking on his son's part, in which he had burned his fingers pretty severely, and which would therefore, he had no doubt, read him a lesson to avoid anything of the sort in the future.

As for Walter himself, he was only too glad to keep silent on the matter, and let it die out; and so were the family generally. There was one, however, from whom Walter looked for sympathy, and even for a measure of approbation--this was his aunt. In the evening, after the article in the county paper on his challenge and its results had been read with severe comments by his father at the breakfast-table, he found Miss Huntingdon sitting alone in the summer-house. Having cut two or three small slips off a laurel, he brought them to her, and, as he sat down by her side, said, half mournfully, half playfully, "Auntie, I want you to make me a laurel crown or chaplet of these."

"Indeed, Walter; what for?"

"That I may wear it as a reward from you, and a token of victory in moral courage."

"Well, but, my dear boy, if the laurels are to be looked at as a reward from myself, I cannot crown you till I am satisfied that you have won them."

"Exactly so, auntie; now that is just what I am going to show you."

"Do so, dear boy, and I shall be only too rejoiced to make the chaplet, and to place it with my own hands on your head."

"Well then, dear aunt, you have heard all about this wretched business of the race; you may be sure that it has made me feel very small and very foolish."

"I can quite understand that," said Miss Huntingdon; "and I have felt very sorry for you in the matter; but I hope it may turn out for good, and make you a little more cautious."

"I hope so too, auntie; but this is not the point with me just now. I want to get credit, from you at any rate, for a little bit, perhaps only a very little bit, of moral heroism or courage."

"Well, Walter?"

"Ah, now, auntie, that 'well' didn't sound well. I'm afraid I shan't get much credit or encouragement from you."

"Let me hear all about it, dear boy," said his aunt kindly.

"Why then, you see, I made a foolish offer, and might have backed out of it; and if I had done so I should have pleased my father and saved my money, and not have encouraged one of the biggest scamps going, and have been spared a lot of chaffing and ridicule. But you see I had given my word, though it was only half a word after all, for I never dreamed that Gregson would have taken me up as he did. But rather than break my word, I stood by what I had promised, and got all sorts of bother and trouble by doing so. Now, wasn't that something like moral courage?

Don't I deserve my laurels?"

"It was something _like_ it," replied his aunt gravely.

"Is that all, auntie? Wasn't it the thing itself? You know there has been no dash or mere impulse here. I've had a deal of patience and forbearance to exercise, and these are quite out of my line."

"Yes, I see that; but then, Walter--"

"But then, Aunt Kate, it wasn't moral courage after all."