Part 26 (1/2)

”Now, Tester,” he said, ”if you were asked to sum up Horace's outlook on life in a single phrase, what would you say?”

Tester thought for a minute or so.

”Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die,” he hazarded.

The form laughed. It seemed rather a daring generalisation. But the Chief's answer came back pat:

”Well, hardly that, Tester. Shall we say, Let us eat and drink, but not too much, or we shall have a stomach-ache to-morrow?”

He had taken Tester's quite erroneous estimate as a basis, and had exactly hit off Horace's character.

But the following incident more than any other brought home to Gordon how extraordinarily broadminded the Chief was. Carter was construing, and had made a most preposterous howler, it does not matter what. He had learnt the translation in the notes by heart, and quite failed to connect it verbatim with the Greek.

”There now, you see how utterly absurd you are,” said the Chief. ”You have not taken the trouble to look the words up in a dictionary. Just because you see what you think is a literal translation in the notes.

There lies the fatal error of using cribs. Of course when I catch a boy in Sh.e.l.l or IV. A using one, I drop on him not only for slackness but dishonesty. The boy is taking an unfair advantage of the rest and getting promotion undeservedly. But in the Sixth Form you have got beyond that stage. We don't worry much about marks here, so there is nothing immoral in using a crib. It is merely silly. It tends to slack translation which in the end ruins scholars.h.i.+p. And by using the notes as you do, Carter, you are doing the same thing. You really must use more common-sense. Go on, please, Harding.”

Gordon was amazed at such a broadminded view of cribbing. He had long since grown weary of preachers who talked about dishonesty, without seeming to draw a line between active dishonesty and pa.s.sive slackness.

The Chief realised that it was deliberate slackness that led to dishonesty, not dishonesty that was incidentally slack. The Chief must be a very wise man.

Nevertheless his admiration of the Chief did not make him do any more work than was strictly necessary; and Gordon began to drift into a peaceful academic groove, where he did just enough work to pa.s.s unnoticed--neither good nor bad. He had grown tired of ragging. It was such an effort, especially when the call of football demanded of every ounce of energy. To drift down-stream may spell mediocrity, but it also spells security, and, after all, there was little danger of Gordon becoming a mediocrity in other branches of school life. He was far too ambitious for that, but his ambitions were not academic. House politics and athletics were sufficient burdens for one man in one lifetime.

”Other heights in other lives”; and Gordon believed in doing a few things well.

It was more than lucky for Gordon's future that this term he found himself a success on the football field. If he had not, he would probably have sought a prominent position in the eyes of the school by more doubtful paths; but as it was there was no need for him to plunge into wild escapades to get noticed. His football attracted quite enough attention. People spoke of his chances of getting into the Fifteen next year. The Milton match was his greatest triumph, mainly because the rest of the side did badly. Lovelace played back and made one or two fine runs when he got the ball, but as a whole the side played very half-heartedly. Burgoyne was off colour, and Collins's excuse that he had been overworking lately did not save him from being kicked out of the side after the match. But Gordon, who had got his Colts' badge on the morning of the match, and so was relieved of any anxieties about his place, played what he always said was his best game; so much so, in fact, that Buller after the match, said:

”Rotten, absolutely rotten, with the exception of Caruthers, who played magnificently.”

There was only one blot on his performance, and that, though everyone laughed about it, caused Gordon some regretful moments afterwards.

Rightly or wrongly Gordon thought the opposite scrum half was not putting the ball in straight. Gordon told him what he thought of him.

The scrum half called him ”a b.l.o.o.d.y interfering b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” and told him to go to h.e.l.l. The next time the scrum half got the ball Gordon flung him with unnecessary force, when he was already in touch, right into the ropes. And from then onwards the relations between Gordon and the scrum half were those of a sc.r.a.pping match. Gordon came off best. He got a bruise on the left thigh, but no one could notice that, while his opponent had a bleeding nose and a cut lip. The school was amused, but Gordon overheard a Milton man say: ”I don't think much of the way these Fernhurst men play the game. Look at that tick of a forward there. Dirty swine!”

After the game Gordon apologised to the half, and exchanged the usual compliments; but he could see that the rest of the Milton side were not at all pleased.

He spoke to Mansell about it.

”My dear man, don't you worry. You played a jolly fine game this afternoon, and if you go on like that you are a cert. for your Firsts next year. You played a d.a.m.ned hard game.”

”Yes; but it is rather a bad thing for the school, isn't it, if we get a reputation for playing rough?”

”But you weren't playing foul, and Buller always tells us to go hard and play as rough as we like.”

”Yes; but still----”

He was not quite rea.s.sured, though everyone told him it was all right.

However, if ”the Bull” made no comment, it looked as if nothing could be wrong. As a matter of fact, ”the Bull” had not noticed; and though Christy, in a fit of righteous indignation, poured out a long story to him, he only smiled.