After the General had shown himself, Ellis walked in, bearing a long thin pole, wrapped round, it appeared, by a flag. Ernest accompanied him, carrying a reel of fine but very strong twine. Some boys stared, and others laughed derisively, and asked if he thought that thing was going to fly. “You’ll see—you’ll see,” he answered very quietly.
“Fly!—Dat it will—higher dan any of ours, I tell you, boys,” observed Monsieur Malin, who had eyed it attentively.
Ernest and Ellis marched across the playground, into the field beyond, out of sight, and in less than two minutes returned, bearing aloft a magnificent Knight in silver armour, with a glittering shield on his arm, a plume on his helmet, and a spear in his hand. His visor was up, and his countenance, with a fine black beard and moustache, looked forth fiercely beneath it, while a band of roses, which was thrown over his shoulder, hung down and formed a very magnificent tail, glittering with jewels. No sooner did the gallant knight make his appearance than the derisive laughter and sneers were changed into shouts of applause. All were agreed that never had a more beautiful kite appeared.
“All very well,” cried Dawson, who was expecting Blackall’s kite to come forth, “but it is a question with me whether such a gimcrack-looking affair will fly.”
Blackall had meantime been busily employed in unpacking his kite, which was to create so much astonishment, and do such mighty things. He undid the strings and brown paper, and laths, which surrounded it, with eager haste. A number of boys were looking on, all curious to see what was to be produced. Dawson was among the most sanguine, expecting that something very fine was to appear. At last Blackall was seen to scratch his head, and to look somewhat annoyed.
“Come, come, Blackall,” exclaimed Sandford, one of the biggest fellows, and certainly no friend of his; “let us see this precious kite of yours. Out with it, man.”
“Mind your own business, Sandford,” answered the bully, sulkily. “I’ll show the kite when I feel inclined.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” replied Sandford, laughing; and knowing perfectly well that Blackall dared not retaliate, stooping down, he lifted the kite, and held it up to the view of the whole school. There was a picture of a big ugly boy daubed in the commonest ochre, and bearing evident marks of its toy-shop origin, though Tommy Bouldon and others declared that they recognised in it a strong likeness to Blackall himself. Blackall seemed to think that some trick had been played him, though it was very clear that the likeness was accidental.
“It’s pretty plain who’s got the ugliest and most stupid looking kite,” said Buttar, as he passed by. “Very like himself. I wonder if it will fly.”
“Yes, if it can find a small kite up in the sky to thrash,” observed Bouldon. “But, I say, let us give three cheers for Blackall’s toy-shop kite. I wonder if he will take it as a compliment.”