The Gold-Stealers | Page 3

that of the gentle savage; and although his
disposition to laugh at the misfortunes of his best friends may be
deplorable from various points of view, it has not been without its
influence in fashioning those good men who put on a brave face in the
teeth of tribulation.
'Gee-rusalem! ain't Jo got a thirst?' whispered Dick when the spasm had
passed.

'My oath, ain't he!' replied Jacker, 'but he was drunk up afore twelve.'
It is necessary to explain here that the school committee, in electing Mr.
Ham to the position of schoolmaster, compelled him to sign a formal
agreement, drawn up in quaint legal gibberish, in which it was
specified that 'the herein afore-mentioned Joel Ham, B.A.,' was to be
limited to a certain amount of alcoholic refreshment per diem, and
McMahon, at the Drovers' Arms, bound himself over to supply no more
than the prescribed quantity; but it was understood that this galling
restriction did not apply to Mr. Ham on Saturdays and holidays.
The noises above subsided into the usual school drone, and the boys
under the floor resumed their game. It was an extremely interesting
game, closely contested. Each player watched the other's actions with
an alert and suspicious eye, and this want of confidence led directly to
the boys' undoing; for presently Dick detected Jacker in an attempt to
deceive, and signalled 'Down!' with an emphatic gesture. 'Gerrout!' was
the word framed by the lips of the indignant Jacker. Haddon
gesticulated an angry protest, and McKnight's gestures and grimaces
were intended to convey a wish that he might be visited with
unspeakable pains and penalties if he were not an entirely virtuous and
grievously misjudged small boy.
'It's a lie,' hissed Dick; 'it was down!
'You're another--it wasn't!
''Twas, I tell you!'
'Twasn't!
'Gimme my knife; I don't play with sharps an' sneaks.'
'Won't!'
Gimme it!
All caution had been forgotten by this time, voices were shrill, and eyes

spoke of battle. Dick made at Jacker with a threatening fist, and Jacker,
with an adroitness for which he was famous, met him with a clip on the
shin from a copper-toed boot. Then the lads grappled and commenced a
vigorous and enthusiastic battle in the dirt and amongst the cobweb
curtains.
In the schoolroom above Joel Ham, startled from a dreamy drowsiness,
heard with wonder fierce voices under his feet, the sounds of blows and
of bumping heads, and saw his scholars all distracted. The master
divined the truth in a very few minutes.
'Cann, Peterson, Moonlight,' he called, 'follow me.'
He selected a favourite cane from the rack, and strutted out with the
curious boys at his heels.
'Now then, Peterson,' he said, and he paused with artful preoccupation
to double his cane over and under, and critically examine the end
thereof, 'you are a very observant youth, Peterson; you will tell me how
those boys got under the school.'
'Dunno,' said Peterson, assuming the expression of an aged cow.
The master seized him by the collar.
'Peterson, you have the faculty of divination. I give you till I have
counted ten to exert it. I am counting, Peterson.'
Very often the schoolmaster's language was Greek to the scholars, but
his meaning was never in doubt for a moment.
'Eight, Peterson, nine.'
Peterson slouched along a few yards, and kicked stupidly and
resentfully at a loose board.
'Might 'a' got in there,' he growled. 'Why couldn't you 'a' asked
Moonlight?--he don' mind bein' a sneak.'

But Mr. Ham was down on his knees removing the loose board, and for
two or three minutes after crouched at the opening like a famished
yellow cat at a rat-hole, awaiting his opportunity. Meanwhile the fight
under the school was being prosecuted with unabated fury. Dick and
Jacker gripped like twin bull-terriers, rolling and tumbling about in the
confined space, careless of everything but the important business in
hand. Suddenly Mr. Ham made his spring, and a smart haul brought a
leg to light. Another tug, and a second leg shot forth.
'Pull, boys!' he cried.
Moonlight seized the other limb, and a good tug brought the two boys
out into the open, still fighting enthusiastically and apparently oblivious
of their surroundings. Two soldier ants never fought with greater
determination or with such a whole-souled devotion to the cause. Over
and over they tumbled in the dust, clutching hair, hammering ribs, and
grunting and grasping, blind, deaf, and callous as logs; and Joel Ham
stood above them with the familiar cynical twist on his blotched visage,
twisting his cane and making audible comments, but offering no further
interference.
'After you, my boys--after you. There is no hurry, Haddon, I can wait
as you are so busy. McKnight, your future is assured. The prize ring is
your sphere: there wealth and