“Can we stand on them till you’re ready, I say?” once more asked the persevering Fourth-formers.
“Why can’t you go inside? I say, though,” added the post fag, “there’s room for two on the next coach. Hop up, or you’ll be out of it!”
To the relief of our heroes, the youngsters yapped off on the new scent; and they presently had the satisfaction of hearing their voices raised in a halloo of triumph from the box of coach six.
“All right!” cried a master, as the last man squeezed up to his perch.
Then arose great cheers and counter-cheers, not unmixed with yells, as the cavalcade drove off in style, followed by Templeton in full cry as far as the great gate, where they parted company, amid shouts that brought all the town to its windows.
Once clear of the school, our heroes breathed more freely in more senses than one. As long as Hooker kept guard of the lower step, and Duffield’s legs swayed about on the other, they were unable to do more than quietly push back the coats and put their heads out. But both these amateur conductors were too much occupied in hailing passers-by and protecting their caps from the assaults of their own friends above to bestow much attention to the inside of a coat-strewn, stuffy vehicle; and in time our heroes found they might venture to whisper across the floor and attempt in a quiet way to make themselves more comfortable; “Beastly dusty,” said Heathcote; “it gets in my mouth.”
“Wouldn’t mind that,” said Dick, “if I didn’t get pins-and-needles in my arms. I’ve a good mind to turn over.”
Here they were sent back like rabbits to their holes by the scare of a free fight taking place on the lower step between Hooker and a town youth, whom he had aggrieved by discharging a broadside of peas on a tender portion of his visage.
The fight was a sharp one, for the burly town youth was a “tartar,” and had more than one grudge to settle with the Templeton boys. He managed to get a footing on the step, and hooking one elbow securely over the door, worked his other arm with great effect on the unfortunate Hooker. The whole fray was so suddenly got up that those on the roof knew nothing about it, and Duffield was so occupied with kicking at the intruder with his one spare leg that he quite forgot to raise a war cry.
The town boy proved equal to his two antagonists. Duffield was early rendered hors de combat by his spare foot being captured and tucked under the arm by which the enemy hung on to the door. And Hooker himself was gradually getting ousted from his perch, and might have been finally dropped on to the road, had not an unexpected diversion in his favour rescued him.