Our heroes shivered, and wondered if any sin in the calendar were equal to that of sloth! With all the Eleven on the top, they had had a chance yet of weathering “Mrs” Nemesis, and hanging on behind. But with the captain and whipper-in inside, they might as well try and hang on a lion’s tail.
“All U P, old man,” groaned Heathcote.
“Slip out sharp!” said Dick excitedly. “Our only chance is to get ahead of them, and pick them up on the road.”
Scarcely any one noticed the two dismayed little Templetonians, as they squeezed out of the gate, with their caps drawn over their eyes, and their heads diligently turned away from the coach of the Eleven. One fellow, however, spotted them, and scared the wits out of them, by saying “Hallo! here are two youngsters left behind. Get inside this coach; there’s lots of room. Look alive, they’re starting.”
“Oh, thanks!” said Dick, scarcely able to speak for the jumping of his heart, “we’re going to do a trot the first mile or so. Thanks awfully! Good-bye.” And to the amazement of the Grandcourtier, the small pair started to run with their heads down and their fists up, at the rate of seven miles an hour.
“By George,” thought he to himself, “some of those Templeton kids go the pace.”
The pleasant village of Grandcourt was startled that evening, as the shades of night fell, by the sight of two small boys trotting hard down the High Street, side by side, some three hundred yards in advance of the coach which carried the conquering heroes of Templeton; like eastern couriers who run before the chaise of the great man. But those two heeded neither looks nor jeers; their ears were deaf to the cry of “Stop thief,” and shouts of “Two to one on Sandy,” stirred no emotions in their fluttering breasts. Luckily for them the road began uphill, so they were able to get a fair start by the time the village was clear. When at last they pulled up breathless at the road-side, they could see the lamp of the coach a quarter of a mile down the road, advancing slowly.
“It’s touch and go,” said Heathcote, “if we do it without getting nabbed. That wretched light shows up everything.”
“Yes, I don’t like it,” said Dick; “we’d better lie down in the ditch, Georgie, till it’s got past. They’ll trot as soon as they get up here on to the level, and we must make a shot at the step. Those fellows inside are sure not to be looking out.”
It was an anxious few minutes as the light approached, and shot its rays over the prostrate bodies of the boys in the ditch. They dared not lift their faces as it passed, and it was only when, as Dick had predicted, the walk changed into a trot, that they started from their lurking-place, and gave chase.