Notwithstanding the appalling nature of the accident, when the boys saw Mr. Shalford return safe and sound they could scarce refrain from giving a hearty cheer. One began to wave his hat and was on the point of opening his mouth. Mr. Shalford was immensely surprised at such a strange proceeding at such a solemn moment, never for a moment dreaming it was all for him. He stopped all noise with an imperative “Hush,”
All the boys clustered around the infirmary steps awaiting the reappearance of the prefect. In about half an hour he came. He told the boys the extent of Stockley's injuries, and said that it was the physician's opinion that none of the wounds were likely to prove fatal.
“Hurrah for Mr. Shalford,” shouted George McLeod.
“McLeod, are you taking leave of your senses? If you don't be quiet I'll send you back to Mr. Silverton to the division yard.”
But the boys took up McLeod's lead and gave three cheers for the prefect.
“And what on earth is that for?”he asked.
“Why, sir, don't you know? Smithers said you were killed,”
“Smithers was too excited to know what he was saying.”
“But you are not killed—that's the point. Hurrah!" In spite of himself the prefect was again cheered. Do what he would, put his fingers to his lips, point to the infirmary, wave down the noise with his hand, he could not stop the boys giving one more shout for his safety.