Farnham, Ranger, Newland, and others looked over, and doubted whether or not they would follow. They had a regard for their necks—it would not be pleasant to break them, and yet Digby performed the feat so easily, and it would be a disgrace if no one attempted it. Ranger did not hesitate long—he only waited till Digby reached the ground in safety, to grasp the rope and to follow him down. The rest shouted when they saw him gliding down. He was, as he deserved to be, a general favourite. Soon he was seen standing alongside Digby. Farnham and then Newland came, and three more; but the remainder could not bring themselves to make the venture. Indeed, Digby and Ranger entreated them not to do so; for though they stood underneath to catch any who might fall, they all felt that the risk was great. Digby, more especially, had scarcely reached the ground than he regretted having tempted others to follow his example.
“If any of them should be killed, or seriously hurt themselves, how dreadful it would be. I should never forgive myself,” he observed to Ranger.
All were at length assembled at the foot of the tower; and Digby having flourished his pole, once more started off as leader of the party, on their return towards home. He had arranged a different route to that by which they had come, away to the right; a portion of it being over a high chalky ridge. They had a steep hill-side to climb, but well and actively they did it; and, at the top, they were rewarded by the fresh health-inspiring breeze they met in their faces. For a mile or more Digby kept the summit of the ridge—a smooth, green surface, which appeared to afford but little variety to the leader’s movements; but here Digby equally showed his talent for his office, never for a minute together was he in the same attitude. Now his pole was poised on high as an Indian dart, or javelin; now it was held as a lance; now he was flourishing it round his head; now he made a sudden leap forward with it; now he hopped; now he skipped; now he went round and round, spinning, but yet advancing. All these, and a variety of other eccentric movements were seen from the valley below, and created the greatest astonishment, and, in some instances, consternation, for the figures of the boys, seen against the evening sky, as they followed one after the other, in regular succession, appeared magnified to a considerable degree; and many wondered what extraordinary beings they could be. They were very much amused, some days afterwards, on hearing of the strange sights the people had seen on the ridge on that very evening, and how they passed by. The remainder of the leaps they took, the streams they crossed, and the duckings some of them got, need not further be described. They got back in time for tea, which on Saturdays, in summer, was always later than at other times.
Digby got very much complimented for the way in which he had led.
“It’s the best run we have ever had, old fellow,” exclaimed Ranger and others. “Yes, indeed it was; and the plucky way in which you got down from the top of Whitcombe Church tower was very fine. It’s not surprising some of us funked to follow. We must have another run like it next week, and we must get you to be leader again. Remember, you think over what course you will take, so as to give us plenty of sport.”
Digby, naturally gratified at all these compliments, promised that he would prepare for another run on the following Saturday.
The authorities, however, it appeared, had taken a different view of the sport to that which those had who had engaged in it. The descent from the top of Whitcombe tower was looked upon with unmitigated horror; and it was proposed to take steps for the prevention of any such dangerous adventures in future. Little, however, was poor Mr Sanford aware of how much worse proceedings were taking place much nearer home, and of the far greater dangers to which many of the boys were exposed during those long spring evenings, when they were allowed to wander forth beyond the supervision of their masters.
The Monday after this noted run, Digby was passing through the hall, when the front-door bell rang, and Susan went to open it, just as she had done the day of his arrival. He likewise stopped at the end of the passage to see who was coming. A fly was at the door, and in front of it stood Rubbins, the fat butler at Milford Priory, who was at that moment helping out of it no less a person than Julian Langley.
Julian was looking very sheepish and downcast, and very much inclined to cry; but the moment he saw Digby, who could not help coming forward, his countenance brightened up.
“Ah, Digby, this is pleasant, to have a friend to meet one, and to tell one all about the school,” he exclaimed. “I did not know I was coming to your school. Now I don’t mind. What sort of a place is it? Many fast fellows, eh? Any fun to be had? Tell me all about it; come, quick. You look jolly enough, let me tell you. Why, you are nearly as big as I am.” So Julian ran on, much in his old style.