CHAPTER XXIII
THE PLUCK OF GERMAN GERRY
The head girl and her companion were joined by Monica Deane and Alice Metcalfe as they left the hockey ground. Both the seniors said nice things to Gerry about her great achievement and condoled with her upon the injury to her nose.
"I say! I am sorry," said Alice in contrition. "I suppose I ought not to have hit so hard, really. Miss Caton's always telling me that hockey isn't just a matter of hard hitting, and that I overdo the slogging part. But I never thought of anyone getting into the way of that ball. As a rule, people run for yards to get out of the way of my free hits."
"It was jolly lucky for us that Gerry did get in the way," laughed Muriel. "If the ball had gone out then, we should never have had time to score that final goal."
"I ought to bear you a grudge, Gerry, for losing the Cup for my dorm," said Alice. "I'm afraid you've got to pay for it, though. Your nose will be black and blue to-morrow."
"Oh no, it won't," said Muriel reassuringly. "I'm going to take her straight up to Sister when we get in, and get some of that wonderful lotion of hers to bathe it with. I got an awful whack on my forehead the end of last season, but when I put Sister's stuff on it the swelling went down almost at once, and it was hardly coloured at all."
"Gerry's nose will be awfully stiff and uncomfortable, though, for a day or two, however wonderful Sister's stuff may be," observed Monica.
"I don't mind," said Gerry happily. And indeed she was so relieved at having redeemed herself in the eyes of the head girl in the matter of hockey-playing, that she really would not have cared very much if her nose had been broken instead of merely bruised. She walked on down the field amongst the seniors, feeling that she would not at the moment have changed places with any other girl in the whole of Wakehurst Priory.
It was some ten minutes' walk across the hockey field back to the school. The three prefects and Gerry were well in the van of the returning girls. A few Fourth Form children were some distance ahead, but the majority of the school were descending more leisurely in the rear. Just at this moment, however, the half-dozen girls in front turned, and began running back, waving their arms and shouting as they ran.
"What on earth's the matter with those kids?" said Alice in surprise. "Have they gone quite mad?"
"They are shouting out something," said Muriel. "Can you hear what it is? Why! There's Bennett running, too. And some other men! One of them's got a stick—no, it's a gun! They're chasing Bruno, surely. What in the world can be the matter?"
There was an iron railing to the left of the hockey field which enclosed the hockey ground itself from the neighbouring meadows. The girls in front were running hard towards this railing, still shouting their words of warning to the approaching girls. This time they were near enough for Muriel to catch what they were saying.
"Mad dog! They're shouting out 'Mad dog!' Quick, make for the railings! Bruno's gone mad!" she cried to her companions.
She turned round and ran back towards the oncoming school, shouting out her warning. Alice and Monica followed her, and, seizing a bunch of small girls just behind, urged them towards the railings. The rest of the school had taken alarm by this time, and were making a wild dash for safety, but of the two or three hundred girls who were pouring down from the field, it was obvious that many of them could not be got out of the way in time. Besides, there was nothing to prevent Bruno from altering his course and making for the railings too. The men chasing the dog were too far behind to risk a shot with so many children about. If they should miss the dog, they could not fail to hit one of the girls when so many of them were in the direct line of fire.
All these thoughts rushed through Muriel's mind as she tried to hurry the girls towards the railings, assisted by such of the mistresses and prefects as were near at hand. There had been many reports in the papers lately of dogs that had gone mad and bitten people, and the head girl was well aware of the terrible results that might follow a bite from an animal suffering from rabies. She knew that a mad dog bites and snaps at everything that comes in his way—and how could they hope to get all these children out of the way in time!
Very much the same thoughts had come into the mind of somebody else, too! Gerry had been seized with panic when the cry of "Mad dog!" had reached her ears, and her first instinct had been to dash towards the railings out of Bruno's way. It was not until she was nearly half-way to safety that it had dawned upon her that none of her three companions were with her, and she stopped for a moment to look round and see what they were doing.
She saw Alice and Monica hurrying some of the smaller children into safety, she saw Muriel running to warn the girls behind. Then she looked at Bruno, who was near enough for her to see him plainly now. His mouth was wide open, his tongue was hanging out, and foam was dripping from his jaws. He looked very terrible, not in the least like the good-natured dog with whom Gerry had made friends on her first day at school.
For a moment, Gerry turned away, with a sick shiver of fear and repulsion. Then all at once something came into her heart, making her braver and stronger than she had ever been in her life before. Muriel was being brave. Muriel had not run like a coward towards the fence. Why, couldn't she be brave like Muriel, too? With a sudden desperate resolve, Gerry swung round and flew straight towards the oncoming dog.
Nearly every girl and mistress in the school saw the deed by which Gerry Wilmott established herself for ever in the annals of Wakehurst Priory. The few who were absent could find plenty of eager eye-witnesses to describe it to them. It was a picture which stamped itself indelibly upon the minds of a good many of the people present—the old grey school buildings in the background, framed by the black boughs of the November trees, the wide stretch of meadowland, and in the forefront the big black dog, pursued by the shouting men, making straight for the crowd of terrified children.
Then into the very centre of the picture dashed the blue-tunicked figure of Gerry Wilmott! German Gerry! The girl who was afraid of dogs and mice and hockey balls, and everything and everyone under the sun, apparently—dashing right in the pathway of the mad dog!
Exactly how she did it, Gerry never afterwards quite knew. In some way she managed to get behind the dog and fling herself upon him as he rushed past. She seized him by his collar and the long curly hair about his throat, throwing herself upon her knees on the ground as she did so. So powerful was he in his mad frenzy, that she was dragged along the grass for a considerable distance before she could bring him to a standstill. Then came a few moments that seemed like a lifetime of desperate struggling, while she gripped the snapping, growling dog round his throat with fingers that grew numb beneath the strain, and with stiff, taut arms held him away so that he could not spring upon her.
The struggle only lasted a few moments in reality, but to Gerry it seemed an eternity before she heard Bennett's breathless cry of "Hold on, missie I keep him still an instant longer," and knew that if it was more than an instant, she would have to let the dog go. Then came a sudden blinding flash over her shoulder, a deafening report in her ear. Bruno broke from her grasp with a frenzied leap, then came another report. And then——
And then the next thing she knew was that she was lying on the grass with Muriel and Miss Caton and Miss Latham bending over her, and with what appeared to Gerry to be the whole of Wakehurst Priory peering over their shoulders.
"For Heaven's sake, keep back, you kids!" cried Muriel in an irate voice, thrusting back the nearest of the eager throng. "Can't you see that Gerry's nearly fainting, and you will keep crowding round so that she can't get a breath of air."
"Go back, girls, at once," commanded Miss Latham, rising to her feet and waving the school away with a peremptory gesture. "Hurry up and get back to school, all of you. Whoever gets there first can tell Sister that she's wanted." An ingenious suggestion that almost instantly cleared a space round Gerry. If you can't get a front place as a spectator when there's an accident, the next best thing is to be the first to carry the news of it to somebody else. And with a feeling that they were really doing something of importance, some fifty or sixty girls set out at once to race down to the school to summon Sister.
Having thus procured breathing-space for Gerry, Miss Latham turned to the games' mistress, who was kneeling beside the girl.
"Is she bitten?" she asked anxiously.
"I don't know," said Miss Caton uncertainly. But Gerry, who was fast recovering from her momentary faintness, made an effort to sit up, saying in a weak voice which she had some difficulty in recognising as her own:
"No, I'm not bitten—anywhere. It's only that I'm so giddy—and out of breath."
"All right, dear; lie down again and don't try to talk. You'll be better directly," said Miss Caton gently.
"I'm better now," said Gerry, resolutely putting aside the protesting hands that attempted to hold her down, and sitting upright. The movement nearly made her turn faint again, but she conquered the feeling by a great effort and smiled into Muriel's anxious face.
"I'm all right. Really, I'm all right! He didn't hurt me a bit. Look at my hands, they're not even scratched."
Nor were they. And after much anxious questioning and examination the mistresses came to the conclusion that in some marvellous way the girl had escaped all injury.
"I can't think how he didn't bite you!" Miss Latham said. "But now, if you feel well enough, I think we'd try and get you down to the sickroom."
"Monica and I will make a carrying-chair of our hands for her," said Muriel eagerly.
But Gerry disdained all such assistance.
"I'm quite all right. I can walk by myself, thank you very much," she said, and demonstrated the truth of her words by rising to her feet. A little sick tremor ran through her as she caught sight of the men bearing away an inert black mass that had once been Bruno, and she swayed a little uncertainly. But Miss Caton caught her by one arm, and Muriel slipped her hand under her other shoulder, and she soon steadied herself; and the little procession began to make its slow way down the field.
With the exception of Monica and Muriel, all the other girls had gone by this time, hurried away by prefects and mistresses—all, that is, but one, who had somehow managed to elude the vigilance of those in authority. That one was Jack Pym, and her face was almost as white as Gerry's own as she came forward and joined the little party. In her hand she carried a couple of hockey sticks.
"I've got your stick, Gerry," she said rather awkwardly. "I saw it on the ground and I've brought it along for you."
Miss Caton dropped behind for a moment to speak to Miss Latham and Monica, and Jack slipped into her vacant place. Gerry's eyes sought Jack's with a wistful eagerness which was not lost upon the head girl.
"Give Gerry an arm, Jack," Muriel suggested. "She's a bit unsteady on her pins still."
Transferring both sticks to one hand, Jack hurried to obey. She drew Gerry's hand through her arm, giving it a squeeze which sent a sudden thrill of happiness through Gerry's heart.
"Thank you," said Gerry gratefully, as she returned the pressure. "It's decent of you to have brought my stick along. I'd forgotten all about it."
That was in effect their reconciliation and the beginning of a friendship which would long outlast schooldays. But though it was such a momentous happening to both girls, neither of them said anything in the least appropriate to the occasion. In fact, the only remark made by either of them at the moment was passed by Jack, as she glanced at Gerry's wounded nose.
"My eye, Gerry! You won't half have a lovely countenance to-morrow morning!" was all she said.