Actons Feud | Page 8

Chalmers that, without the apology, his captain had meant to cut him adrift, sans hesitation, and yet contained a pretty little compliment to his footer, embarrassed Chalmers more than a little; but Acton offered his forward tea and muffins, and five minutes afterwards Chalmers was finding out what a nice fellow Acton really could be. The next day Chalmers smoothed his ruffled feelings by piling on three goals against the Fifth, who sneaked off the Acres five goals to the bad. This was the first time for ages that Biffen's had tasted blood, and the news of the victory staggered others besides the victims. There was quite a flutter among the house captains, and Acton, by the way, had no more mutinies.
"Without haste, without rest," Biffen's captain started his second project for the elevation of his house. He had noticed what none of the other fellows would condescend to see, that two of the despised niggers of Biffen's were rather neat on the bars. He spent a quarter of an hour one evening quietly watching the two in the gym, and he went away thoughtful. Singh Ram and Mehtah thereupon each received a polite note, and "could they call about seven in Acton's study?" They came, and Acton talked to them briefly but to the point. When they sought their quarters again they were beaming, and "Singed" Ram carried a fat book of German physical exercises under his arm.
"Am I not coming out strong?" said Acton, laughing to himself, "when I set the very niggers a-struggling for the greater glory of Biffen's--or is it Acton's? Then, there's that exhibition, which we must try to get for this double-superlative house. Raven must beat that Sixth prig Hodgson, the very bright particular star of Corker's. Would two hours' classics, on alternate nights, meet his case? He shall have 'em, bless him! He shall know what crops Horace grew on his little farm, and all the other rot which gains Perry Exhibitions. Hodgson may strong coffee and wet towel _per noctem_; but, with John Acton as coach, Raven shall upset the apple-cart of Theodore Hodgson. There's Todd in for the Perry, too, I hear. Hodgson may be worth powder and shot, but I'm hanged if Raven need fear Cotton's jackal! If only half of my plans come off, still that will put Philip Bourne in a tighter corner than he's ever been in before. Therefore--_en avant!_"



CHAPTER V
COTTON AND HIS JACKAL
As I said before, the victory of the despised Biffenites over the Fifth Form eleven--a moderate one, it is true--caused quite a little breeze of surprise to circulate around the other houses, which had by process of time come to regard that slack house as hopeless in the fields or in the schools. Over all the tea-tables that afternoon the news was commented on with full details; how Chalmers had gained in deadliness just as much as he had lost in selfishness, and how Raven and Worcester had worked like horses, and mown down the opposition--"Fifth Form opposition!" said the fags, with a lift of the eyebrows--like grass, and as for Biffen's new captain, well, if there was one player who could hold a candle to him it must be Phil Bourne, and he only.
In the Rev. E. Taylor's house, Cotton senior, who answered to the name of "Jim" among his familiars, and was "Bully Cotton" to his enemies--every Amorian below the Fifth, and a good sprinkling elsewhere--and Augustus Vernon Robert Todd, who was "Gus" to every one, sat at tea together in Todd's room. Cotton had been one of the slain that afternoon on the Acres, and was still in his footer clothes, plus a sweater, which almost came up to his ears. There was a bright fire in the grate, and though Todd's room was not decorative compared with most of the other fellows' dens, yet it was cheerful enough. Cotton had come back from the match hungry and a trifle bruised from a smart upset, only to find his own fire out, and preparations for tea invisible. Having uttered dire threats against his absent, erring fag, he moved into his friend's room, and the two clubbed together their resources, and the result was a square meal, towards which Cotton contributed something like 19/20, A.V.R. Todd's share being limited to the kettle, the water, and the fire. When Cotton had satisfied his footer appetite, he turned down his stocking and proceeded vigorously to anoint with embrocation his damaged leg, the pungent scent of the liniment being almost ornamental in its strength.
"How did you get that, Jim?" said Gus, surveying the brawny limb with interest.
"Acton brought me down like a house, my boy."
"Fair?"
"Oh yes; but you've got to go down if he catches you in his swing."
"You fellows must have played beautifully to