Digby had shaken himself clear of the bully, whose face was livid with anger, and stood facing him.

Scarcely were the words out of Digby's mouth, than he received several tremendous boxes on the ears. He felt a choking sensation in the throat; he had never before been struck unjustly. All the pugnacity in his disposition rose at once into his well-rounded knuckles, and springing forward before the bully had a conception of what he was about to do, he had planted two such heavy blows in his two eyes, that they flashed fire in such a way, that he could scarcely see what had become of his small opponent, while he himself absolutely reeled back with pain. When he did open his eyes, there stood Digby, his feet firmly planted on the ground, his fists clenched, his teeth firmly set, undaunted and ready to do battle, yet well knowing that he must inevitably get the worst in an encounter with so big an antagonist. He had not provoked the quarrel; he had justice on his side, and he was encouraged by the shouts of a number of boys, and cries of "Bravo, little c.o.c.k!" "Well done, new boy!" "Give it the bully!" "Stand to your colours!" Digby felt like a martyr to a great cause. If Scarborough had been angry when merely spoken to, he now became furious at being thus unexpectedly bearded by so small an antagonist. If the new boy escaped without a severe punishment, he might become a most troublesome opponent in the school. He rushed at him, uttering terrific threats of vengeance, intending to seize him by the collar and to throw him down, and to bite his ears and kick him at the same time, _more tyranni_. Digby leaped nimbly aside, and hit his right arm a blow which made it tingle from the shoulder to the tips of the fingers. This, however, only put off the chastis.e.m.e.nt which was sure to be inflicted, where his antagonist was so vastly superior in strength.

It is not necessary to repeat the abusive epithets and oaths which flew from Scarborough's mouth. Hitting Digby a terrific blow with his left hand, which knocked off his cap, and kicking at his legs, he brought him to the ground, when seizing him by the hair, he began to knock him about most unmercifully on the head and shoulders.

"Shame! shame!" cried many of the boys together; "a new fellow, and down on the ground. Shame, bully! shame!"

"Why don't some of you come and help me?" cried Digby, in the interval of the blows, and trying to get on his legs.

"I will," cried little Paul Newland, who had only just come into the playground, and had run up to see what was happening; "who'll follow me?

Farnham, you will, I'm sure."

"That I will," cried Farnham, all the generous emotions in his heart rising up; "he stood up bravely for us younger fellows. He is a gallant little c.o.c.k. To the rescue! to the rescue!"

Farnham was a good-sized fellow, though young. A number of other boys, inspired by his address, joined him; and, without further concert, they made a bold dash at Scarborough, who little thought that they would really attack him. Some clung to his legs, others seized his arms, and clung round his neck and pulled him backwards, so that Digby had time to jump to his feet, and to shake himself to ascertain that no bones were broken.

"Thank you, thank you," he exclaimed: "I am not much the worse for the way that big coward behaved; but take care, he will be hurting some of you; I don't mind if he was to set on me again; I dare say I can stand his knocking about as well as anybody."

The boys who had so gallantly come to Digby's rescue had not thought of that, and Scarborough, struggling desperately to free himself, had thrown some of them off, and was in his fury striking, right and left, blows heavy enough to have maimed any of them for life; but at the same time he had his eye on Digby, on whom he was evidently longing to wreak his vengeance.

By this time most of the boys, big and little, were drawn round the scene of the contest. Scarborough had his friends, who urged him to annihilate his small opponents, but did not think it necessary themselves to interfere. Bad as were many of them, Digby's gallantry had been remarked by one of the elder boys in the first cla.s.s, who, though not so big or so old as Scarborough, was a person not to be trifled with. His figure was light, active, well-knit, and his countenance had a mild expression, at the same time that it possessed signs of peculiar firmness and decision.

Scarborough had freed himself from all those who surrounded him, except from Farnham and Newland, who were in vain trying to prevent him from once more seizing Digby, when Henry Bouverie, the boy spoken of, stepped up, and placing himself between Scarborough and Digby, exclaimed:--

"You shall not touch him; while I remain at this place, I will not, if I can help it, allow so thoroughly un-English and cowardly acts to be committed. That young fellow only came yesterday, and you must needs run foul of him and half kill him with your brutality to-day. Whatever others may think, I know that the sooner you leave the school the better it will be for all of us."

Scarborough was still advancing. Bouverie lifted up his fists.

"You shall light me and thrash me before you again touch that young fellow," he exclaimed, in a voice which made the bully draw back.

"Remember, Heathcote, if he strikes you, you are to come and tell me; and any of you fellows who came to Heathcote's help are to do the same."

The bully stood irresolute. Should he at once fly at Bouverie and attack him. He was certainly stronger; he might thrash him; and if so, he should not only keep him in check, but be able to tyrannise over all the other boys as much as he liked; but then he looked at Bouverie, and observed the calm, firm att.i.tude he had a.s.sumed. The reverse would be the case if he failed. His prestige, already having suffered a severe blow from Digby, would be for ever gone.

When Bouverie had first spoken, Farnham and Newland had let him go, and though he struck at them as they did so, they escaped without much injury. Some of the bigger boys, who did not like Bouverie, shouted out:--

"Knock him over; down with the radical!"

But still louder rose a shout of approbation from Farnham, Newland, and the boys with more generous feelings who had sided with them, in which Digby heartily joined.

"Bravo, Bouverie, gallant fellow! we'll stick by you."

"Thanks to all those who so express themselves," said Bouverie; "recollect, however, it is only by being kindly affectioned one to another, and by supporting each other in everything that is right, that you can hope to resist tyranny and oppression. Mark me, also, Scarborough; I have no wish to set the fellows on against you, but I detest bullying, and if you continue the system you have been pursuing, I shall do my very utmost to help the younger fellows, and to oppose you. No more shouting, pray. I'm for a game at Prisoners' Base. Here, Farnham, you lead one side, I'll take the other. Any fellows who will oppose bullying may join; no others, remember."

Digby was surprised at the rapid and systematic way in which the arrangements were made. Farnham was evidently pleased at being chosen by a big fellow like Bouverie to play against him. Of the mysteries of the game he himself knew nothing; still he longed to join in it in spite of his sores and aching bones. Bouverie at last looked towards him and invited him to join.

"All right; I thought he would," said Paul Newland, who was standing near.

"But I have never played at it before," said Digby.

"Oh, never mind that! I'll show you what to do; and I am certain you can run fast, and will play well," urged Paul.

"Yes, he'll play," he added, turning to Bouverie. "You know, Heathcote," he continued, "you must be up to everything and ready for everything--in the way of games, I mean. When you know the ways of the school, the younger fellows will look to you as a leader. They want one, and I know that you will make a good one."

These remarks naturally could not fail to fire Digby's ambition. He forgot all about his bruises, and ran eagerly to the spot marked out for the game. Paul explained it to him. The base was at the bottom of the playground from one side to the other. This was divided in two. The prison was at a pump which stood in the middle of the ground--a great luxury in hot weather, but a terror to the little boys in cold, for they were sometimes placed under it and unmercifully soused.

"Now, you see," said Paul, "one fellow starts out on one side, then another on the opposite, who tries to touch him. If he succeeds, the first goes to prison; but if the first gets in, the second may be touched by a third, and himself have to go to prison, and so on. The next aim is to get those on our own side out of prison. This is done by running to them and touching them, but in so doing, a fellow is liable to be touched by one of the opposite side, and have to go himself to prison. If, however, he rescues a prisoner, he may not be touched on his return to the base. To my mind, it is the best running game there is."

Digby thought so likewise, and entered with great zest into the game.

He soon understood it as clearly as if he had played it all his life.

Once Bouverie himself was touched, and had to go to prison. Nearly all their side were out chasing, or being chased. Digby rushed back to the base, and then, quick as lightning, started out again, and though pursued by a fast runner, he succeeded in rescuing his leader in gallant style.

"Well done, new boy! well done, small one! well done, Heathcote!" was shouted by several on his side, and Digby felt very proud of his success. Whenever one of his party was taken prisoner, he was the first to dash out to his rescue; and if he saw one pursued, he was instantly in chase of the pursuer. From this time he entered warmly into all the games which were played, and was soon invariably chosen to take an active part in all those which did not require practice. Some required, however, both practice and instruction, and for those he always found ready instructors in Farnham and Paul Newland. He practised away, however, so zealously, that he very soon played, even in games of skill, almost as well as those who were teaching him. He not only listened to what they told him, but he attentively watched them and all the best players, and saw how they did things, and their various tricks and devices. He did not forget also to observe, occasionally, the bad players, that he might see how it was they managed so soon to be put out. Cricket, of course, had not yet come in; in that capital game, likewise, he was anxious to become a proficient. He had been initiated at Mr Nugent's in single wicket, so he could bat and bowl pretty well, but he knew very little of the game at large.

From the style of his previous education, he found himself also in lessons somewhat behind many boys younger than himself, though he knew a great deal more than they did of other things, and of affairs in general.

However, he had no reason to complain after his measure had been taken by his schoolfellows of the position he occupied in their estimation.

Whether this was for his ultimate advantage remained to be seen; one thing was certain, it demanded of him a considerable amount of temper, judgment, discretion; and not only good resolutions, but strength to keep them.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE PLAY-BOX AND ITS CONTENTS--A SCHOOL SUPPER--DIGBY LEARNS FRENCH, AND WISHES THAT HE DID NOT--DIGBY RISES IN HIS SCHOOLFELLOWS' ESTIMATION.

Digby's first half-holiday had been full of stirring events. As the evening drew on, his hunger reminded him of the contents of his play-box. He had not entirely lost his taste for jam and honey since the days when he had made free with Mrs Carter's preserve pots; and it was with some antic.i.p.ation of pleasure that he proposed to Paul Newland to examine his treasures.

Paul was a thorough schoolboy, so he willingly agreed; but suggested that it would be wise to keep the jam till after tea, when they might have bread to eat with it. "I have two bottles, and we will pour our tea into them," observed Newland. "Cold tea is very nice, you know; and we will stow away as much bread as we can in our pockets. I have some gingerbread and a bottle of ginger-beer remaining; and we shall have a good supply for a feast."

"But I dare say that I have plenty of things more, for I did not see what was put up; only I know that the housekeeper was told to fill my box as full as it could be," answered Digby. "And do you know, I should like to ask some other fellows to join us. Farnham, certainly, and all those who came to my help when that bully attacked me; or, if you like, all who were playing with us just now. I can easily get some more pots of jam, if I want them, I dare say."

"Capital, capital!" exclaimed Paul. "But I don't think it will do to have as many fellows as you propose. I'll just ask those I think you would really like; but would it not be wiser to see what you have got first. I have known boxes broken open, and when the owners have gone to them, they have found only lumps of paper instead of cake, and empty jam and honey pots."

Digby's heart sank somewhat on hearing this; and with no little trepidation and doubt he accompanied Paul to the play-room.

It was a good-sized place, and had been originally used as a schoolroom; a pa.s.sage led to it from one end of the present schoolroom. A fire was always lighted there on half-holidays in the winter, so that it was a very favourite resort in the evenings, especially in bad weather. It was not the thing to read there, nor were running games allowed. An exception was made in favour of high-c.o.c.k-o'-lorum and leap-frog, which might be played at the end furthest from the fireplace. There were tables, and benches, and a few strong wooden chairs and stools; and shelves all round on which the boys might keep their boxes, and other treasures, boats, or little theatres, or museums, or anything they were making.

Digby found his box standing by itself, on a spare shelf. The lock looked all right; he produced the key, and opened it--nothing had been touched.

"All right, then," exclaimed Paul. "We ought to get Farnham and two or three other fellows to stand by as guards, or we shall have Scarborough pouncing down on us like a hawk, or Spiller insinuating himself like an eel, and carrying off the spoil, as they will call it. I have seen those two fellows, before now, half clear out the box of a fellow who had just come from home before he has been able to give anything to his friends. There they both come; I thought so. Shut it again, and hide the key in your pocket."

"I say, though, don't you think we might ask Bouverie to come to the feast?" exclaimed Digby, as Paul was running off. "Is he above that sort of thing?"

Paul stopped, and considered.

"He likes jam and cake, I dare say; but I don't think he would take yours, lest it should be said he helped you for the sake of what you have got," he answered. "I'll ask him in your name, though; there can be no harm in doing that."

When Newland was gone, Digby sat down near his box. Scarborough stood at one end of the room, eyeing him, and considering whether or not it would be worth while to indulge himself in the satisfaction of attacking him, and compelling him to give up some of the contents of his box.