Johnny Ludlow, Second Series

by Mrs. Henry Wood

But for a little mud, you’d hardly have thought there had been any rain when we got out again; and the sun was glowing in the blue sky. Not a single fellow was absent: even King limped along. We took the way by the Severn, past the boat-house at the end of the college boundaries, and went leisurely along the towing-path, intending to get into the fields beyond Diglis Wharf, and so onwards.

I don’t believe there was a thought in any one’s mind that afternoon of the enemy. The talk—and a good hubbub it was—turned wholly upon soldiers and reviews. A regular review of the Worcestershire militia took place once a year on Kempsey Ham, and some of the boys’ heads got a trifle turned with it. They were envying Lord Ward, now, as they went along: saying they should like to be him, and look as well as he did, and sit his horse as proudly.

“Of course he’s proud,” squeaked out the biggest Teal, whose voice was uncertain. “Think of his money!—and his horses!—and see how good-looking he is! If Lord Ward hasn’t a right to be proud, I should like to know who has. Why, he—oh, by George! I say, look here!”

Turning into the first field, we found we had turned into a company of Frogs. All the whole lot, it seemed. Caws and croaks and hoots and groans from either side rose at once on the air. Which army commenced hostilities, I couldn’t tell; the one was as eager for it as the other; and in two minutes the battle had begun—begun in earnest. Up dashed the senior boy.

“Look here,” said he to me and Tod; “you understand our rules. You must neither of you attempt to meddle in this. Stay and look on, if you please; but keep at a sufficient distance where it may be seen that you are simply spectators. These beggars shan’t have it to say that we were helped.”

He dashed back again. Tod ground his teeth with the effort it took to keep himself from going in to pummel some of the Frogs. Being upon honour, he had to refrain; and he did it somehow.

The Frogs had the blazing sun in their eyes; our side had it at their backs—which was against the Frogs. There were no weapons of any sort; only arms and hands. It looked like the scrimmage of an Irish row. Sometimes there was closing-in, and fighting hand to hand; sometimes the forces were drawn back again, each to its respective ground. During the first of these interludes, just as the sides were preparing to charge, a big Frog, with broad awkward shoulders, a red, rugged face, and a bleeding nose, came dashing forward alone into the ranks of the college boys, caught up poor lame helpless King Sanker, bore him bravely right through, and put him down in safety beyond, in spite of the blows freely showered upon him. Not a soul on our side had thought of King; and the college boys were too excited to see what the big Frog was about, or they’d perhaps have granted him grace to pass unmolested. King sat down on the wet grass for a bit, and gazed about him like a fellow bewildered. Seeing me and Tod he came limping round to us.

“It was good-natured of that big Frog, wasn’t it, Johnny Ludlow?”

“Very. He’d make a brave soldier. I mean a real soldier.”

“Perhaps I should have been killed, but for him. I was frightened, you see; and there was no way out. I couldn’t have kept on my legs a minute longer.”