"Now remember," added the Doctor, as he stopped at the turret door, "this fight is not to go on--you'll see to that. And I expect you to stop all fights in future at once."

"Very well, sir," said young Brooke, touching his hat, and not sorry to see the turret-door close behind the Doctor's back.

EVENING AFTER THE FIGHT.

Meantime Tom and the staunchest of his adherents had reached Harrowell's, and Sally was bustling about to get them a late tea, while Stumps had been sent off to Tew, the butcher, to get a piece of raw beef for Tom's eye, which was to be healed off-hand, so that he might show well in the morning. He was not a bit the worse except a slight difficulty in his vision, a singing in his ears, and a sprained thumb, which he kept in a cold water bandage, while he drank lots of tea, and listened to the Babel of voices talking and speculating of nothing but the fight, and how Williams would have given in after another fall (which he didn't in the least believe), and how on earth the Doctor could have got to know of it--such bad luck! He couldn't help thinking to himself that he was glad he hadn't won; he liked it better as it was, and felt very friendly to the Slogger. And then poor little Arthur crept in and sat down quietly near him, looking at him and the raw beef with such plaintive looks that Tom at last burst out laughing.

"Don't make such eyes, young un," said he, "there's nothing the matter."

"Oh, but, Tom, are you much hurt? I can't bear thinking it was all for me."

"Not a bit of it, don't flatter yourself. We were sure to have it out, sooner or later."

"Well, but you won't go on, will you? You'll promise me you won't go on?"

"Can't tell about that--all depends on the Houses. We're in the hands of our countrymen, you know. Must fight for the School-house flag, if so be."

However, the lovers of the science[44] were doomed to disappointment this time. Directly after locking-up, one of the night-f.a.gs knocked at Tom's door.

[44] #The science#: "the manly science of self-defence."

"Brown, young Brooke wants you in the sixth-form room."

THE SHAKE-HANDS.

Up went Tom to the summons, and found the magnates[45] sitting at their supper.

[45] #Magnates#: here, the upper cla.s.s boys.

"Well, Brown," said young Brooke, nodding to him, "how do you feel?"

"Oh, very well, thank you; only I've sprained my thumb, I think."

"Sure to do that in a fight. Well, you hadn't the worst of it, I could see. Where did you learn that throw?"

"Down in the country, when I was a boy."

"Hullo! why, what are you now? Well, never mind, you're a plucky fellow. Sit down and have some supper."

Tom obeyed, by no means loath. He ate and drank, listening to the pleasant talk, and wondering how soon he should be in the fifth, and one of that much-envied society.

As he got up to leave, Brooke said: "You must shake hands to-morrow morning; I shall come and see that done after first lesson."

And so he did. And Tom and the Slogger shook hands with great satisfaction and mutual respect. And for the next year or two, whenever fights were being talked of, the small boys who had been present shook their heads wisely, saying: "Ah! but you should just have seen the fight between Slogger Williams and Tom Brown!"

THE OLD BOY'S RULES.

And now, boys all, three words before we quit the subject. I have put in this chapter on fighting, of malice prepense,[46] partly because I want to give you a true picture of what every-day school life was in my time, and not a kid-glove and go-to-meeting-coat-picture; and partly because of the cant[47] and twaddle that's talked of boxing and fighting with fists nowadays. Even Thackeray has given in to it; and only a few weeks ago there was some rampant stuff in the _Times_ on the subject, in an article on field sports.

[46] #Malice prepense#: with deliberate purpose.

[47] #Cant#: hypocritical or meaningless talk.

Boys will quarrel, and when they quarrel will sometimes fight.

Fighting with fists is the natural and English way for English boys to settle their quarrels. What subst.i.tute for it is there, or ever was there, amongst any nation under the sun? What would you like to see take its place?

Learn to box, then, as you learn to play cricket and foot-ball. Not one of you will be the worse, but very much the better for learning to box well. Should you never have to use it in earnest, there is no exercise in the world so good for the temper, and for the muscles of the back and legs.

As to fighting, keep out of it if you can by all means. When the time comes, if it ever should, that you have to say "Yes" or "No" to a challenge to fight, say "No" if you can,--only take care you make it clear to yourselves why you say "No." It's a proof of the highest courage, if done from true Christian motives. It's quite right and justifiable, if done from a simple aversion to physical pain and danger. But don't say "No" because you fear a licking, and say or think it's because you fear G.o.d, for that's neither Christian nor honest. And if you do fight, fight it out; and don't give in while you can stand and see.

CHAPTER VI.

FEVER IN THE SCHOOL.

"This is our hope for all that's mortal, And we too shall burst the bond; Death keeps watch beside the portal, But 'tis life that dwells beyond."--_John Sterling._

Two years have pa.s.sed since the events recorded in the last chapter, and the end of the summer half-year is again drawing on. Martin has left and gone on a cruise in the South Pacific in one of his uncle's ships; the old magpie, as disreputable as ever, his last bequest[1] to Arthur, lives in the joint study. Arthur is nearly sixteen, and at the head of the twenty, having gone up the school at the rate of a form a half-year. East and Tom have been much more deliberate in their progress, and are only a little way up the fifth form. Great strapping boys they are, but still thorough boys, filling about the same place in the house that young Brooke filled when they were new boys, and much the same sort of fellows. Constant intercourse with Arthur has done much for both of them, especially for Tom; but much remains yet to be done, if they are to get all the good out of Rugby which is to be got there in these times. Arthur is still frail and delicate, with more spirit than body; but, thanks to his intimacy with them and Martin, has learned to swim, run, and play cricket, and has never hurt himself by too much reading.

[1] #Bequest#: something given by will.

DEATH IN THE SCHOOL.

One evening, as they were all sitting down to supper in the fifth-form room, some one started a report that a fever had broken out at one of the boarding-houses; "They say," he added, "that Thompson is very ill, and that Dr. Robertson has been sent for from Northampton."

"Then we shall all be sent home," cried another. "Hurrah! five weeks'

extra holidays, and no fifth-form examination."

"I hope not," said Tom; " there'll be no Marylebone match[2] then at the end of the half."

[2] #Marylebone match# (merrybun): a match by the London cricket club of that name. It is the leading cricket club of the world. The celebrated Lord's grounds in London are its property.

Some thought one thing, some another; many didn't believe the report; but the next day, Tuesday, Dr. Robertson arrived, and stayed all day, and had long conferences with the Doctor.

On Wednesday morning, after prayers, the Doctor addressed the whole school. There were several cases of fever in different houses, he said; but Dr. Robertson, after the most careful examination, had a.s.sured him that it was not infectious, and that if proper care were taken, there could be no reason for stopping the school work at present. The examinations were just coming on, and it would be very unadvisable to break up now. However, any boys who chose to do so were at liberty to write home, and if their parents wished it, to leave at once. He should send the whole school home if the fever spread.

The next day Arthur sickened, but there was no other case. Before the end of the week thirty or forty boys had gone, but the rest stayed on.

There was a general wish to please the Doctor, and a feeling that it was cowardly to run away.

THE DOCTOR'S SERMON.