Inclosing the cathedral and its precincts on the western side, was a wall, built of red stone. It was only breast high, standing on the cathedral side; but on the other side it descended several feet, to the broad path which ran along the banks of the river. The boys made for this wall and gained it, their faces hot, and their breath gone.
“Who’ll pitch ‘em in?” cried Hurst, who did not altogether relish being chief actor himself, for windows looked on to that particular spot from various angles and corners of the Boundaries. “You shall do it, Galloway!”
“Oh shall I, though!” returned young Galloway, not relishing it either.
“You precious rebel! Take the keys, and do as I order you!”
Young Galloway was under Hurst. He no more dared to disobey him than he could have disobeyed the head-master. Had Hurst ordered him to jump into the river he must have done it. He took the keys tendered him by Hurst, and was raising them for the pitch, when Bywater laid his hand upon them and struck them down with a sudden movement, clutching them to him.
“You little wretch, you are as deaf as a donkey!” he uttered. “There’s somebody coming up. Turn your head, and look who it is.”
It proved to be Fordham, the dean’s servant. He was accidentally passing. The boys did not fear him; nevertheless, it was only prudent to remain still, until he had gone by. They stood, all five, leaning upon the wall, soiling their waistcoats and jackets, in apparent contemplation of the view beyond. A pleasant view! The river wound peacefully between its green banks; meadows and cornfields were stretched out beyond; while an opening afforded a glimpse of that lovely chain of hills, and the white houses nestled at their base. A barge, drawn by a horse, was appearing slowly from underneath the city bridge, blue smoke ascending from its chimney. A woman on board was hanging out linen to dry—a shirt, a pair of stockings, and a handkerchief—her husband’s change for the coming Sunday. A young girl was scraping potatoes beside her; and a man, probably the husband, sat steering, his pipe in his mouth. The boys fixed their eyes upon the boat.
“I shouldn’t mind such a life as that fellow’s yonder!” exclaimed young Berkeley, who was fonder of idleness than he was of Latin. “I’ll turn bargeman when other trades fail. It must be rather jolly to sit steering a boat all day, and do nothing but smoke.”
“Fordham’s gone, and be hanged to him! Now for it, Galloway!”
“Stop a bit,” said Bywater. “They must be wrapped up, or else tied close together. Better wrap them up, and then no matter who sees. They can’t swear there are keys inside. Who has any paper about him?”