Should they throw themselves on his mercy, or hurl themselves between his feet, and overturn him, if haply they might escape in the confusion? How they hated that Grandcourt fellow who talked to him. What business had he to keep a Templeton fellow there catching cold? Why hadn’t all Grandcourt been ordered to bed directly after supper?
Horrors! Coach six shouted “All right!” and rattled off.
“We’re done for,” said Heathcote. “We may as well show up.”
“Stay where you are,” said Dick; “we shall have to hang on behind the coach the Eleven go in.”
“But, Dick, they’re all monitors!”
“Can’t be helped,” said Dick, peremptorily.
The Eleven’s coach drove up, and all Grandcourt turned out with a final cheer for their conquerors. Mansfield shook hands with his friend, and climbed up on to the box. The rest followed. Ponty rambled out among the last. He looked up at the crowded roof, and didn’t like it. It was far too much grind for the dear fellow to swarm up there.
“I’ll go inside, Cresswell. Come on; we’ll get a seat each, and make ourselves comfortable.”
Cresswell laughed.
“If you hadn’t made that catch, old man,” said he, “I’d say you were the laziest beggar I ever saw. But as you’ve a right to give your orders, I’ll obey. Lead on, mighty captain.”