“Double quick march,” cried Bracebridge; and the two bands rushed on towards the extreme end of the grounds, where Eden told them the bully had encountered poor Tom. The spot towards which they were hurrying was separated from the rest of the grounds by a thick coppice. Several tall trees grew about it, and it was by far the most secluded place in the grounds. It was a favourite resort in the summer time of some of the more studious boys, who went there to read, and, at other seasons, Gregson and a few other boys, who were fond of the study of natural history, used to go there to search for specimens, as Tom Bouldon used to say, of bird’s nests, beetles, bees, and wild flowers. Blackall, also, and two or three of his class, occasionally retired there, but neither to read nor to study natural history, but to smoke and to drink, when he could procure liquor. Bouldon ascertained that he had gone there on this occasion, and, anxious to bring matters to a crisis, went round that way, passing directly in front of him.
Blackall, who was sitting alone by himself, looking at the grass, saw his shadow slowly pass along before him. Lifting up his lack-lustre eyes, they fell on Tom. He immediately started up, and seized him by the collar. “Ah, my fine fellow, I’ve caught you at last, and all alone. I wanted to find you, and now I’ll pay you off with a thrashing which you will remember to the end of your days.”
Bouldon looked up and down to see if anybody was coming to his help. He had missed Eden, who had, however, seen him through the trees in the hands of Blackall, and then scampered off as fast as his legs would carry him, his imagination somewhat supplying the particulars of the thrashing which had not even yet begun. Bouldon struggled hard to release himself when he found that Blackall had got hold of his collar, for he had no wish to become a martyr unnecessarily, as he knew from experience that his persecutor hit very hard and cruelly whenever he had the power.
“I’ll give you a chance yet,” said Blackall. “Will you fag for me, or will you not?”
“Most certainly not,” answered Tom, firmly. “I’ll see you at Jericho, and ten thousand leagues further, rather than lift a finger to obey one of your commands. There, you’ve got my answer.”
“Then take that,” exclaimed the bully, bestowing a thundering lick on poor Tom’s ear. “How do you like the taste of that? Will you obey me now?”
Blackall generally played with his victims as a cat does with a mouse before destroying it.
“Not I,” answered Tom briefly, compressing his lips.
Another heavy box on the ears followed close upon this answer.
“Will you now?” again asked Blackall.