In Search of Treasure

“If I ever see you running away I’ll carry you back.”

Simon did not deign a reply to this, but turning on his heel walked out of the yard.

As he left, he said: “You’d better go round and see pa after supper.”

“He knows where he can find me,” returned the carrier, in a sturdy tone.

Arrived at the school, Simon went at once to his father’s study, and reported that the carrier would not obey his command.

“Never mind, Simon,” said Dr. Musgrave. “The grocer has just been here and told me that Bell is staying at Giles Glover’s farm. I shall go for him to-morrow morning.”

CHAPTER XIV

GUY FENWICK REACHES MILTON SCHOOL

Guy Fenwick, accompanied by his friend and fellow passenger, August Locke, started from London early in the morning, bound for Milton.

Reaching the station, Locke proposed to Guy to walk to the school.

“It is only half a mile,” he said, “and it will be a pleasure to me to take a leisurely stroll over the road that was once so familiar to me.”

“I am quite willing,” said Guy. “It is a charming morning, and the country is beautiful.”

“More so than America?”

“I must confess,” said Guy, “that I know of no landscape in America that equals the charm of an English village.”

It was a bright, sunshiny day. The hedge-rows were a dark green. They passed a church overgrown with ivy, and the air was perfumed by sweet flowers.

“How often I have been over this road,” said August Locke.

“Did you enjoy your schooldays, Mr. Locke?”

“I should have done so if we had had a better teacher. Dr. Musgrave’s tyranny spoiled all.”

“Did he abuse you?”

“As much as he dared; but when he went too far my temper got the better of me, and I was ready for anything. I think he knew that, for he did not treat me as badly as some of his pupils who were more timid. How are your American schools?”

“No doubt we have some tyrannical teachers, but the one whose school I attended was a gentleman. He was firm and yet gentle, and all we boys respected and liked him.”

“With such a teacher as you describe Milton School would be a paradise.”

“I don’t see how Dr. Musgrave can retain his position. Does he own the school?”

“No; he is employed by the directors. Most of them live at a distance, and know nothing of his administration. If complaints were made to them they would pay no attention to them. They would take the ground that there is a natural antagonism between pupils and teachers.”

“So the poor boys have little hope of having their wrongs redressed?”

“You are about right.”

The distance between the station and the school was so short that by the time their conversation was over they had nearly reached the gate that led into the school-ground.

“It looks just as it did when I left,” said August Locke, surveying the building and campus with interest. “I can almost imagine that it was only yesterday I went away.”

“Except when you look in the glass.”

“Yes; I have grown from a boy into a man of twenty-five. I should be more than a match for old Musgrave now,” and the young man regarded with satisfaction his muscular arms and well-knit figure.

“Really,” he added, “I shouldn’t mind if there were occasion, having a tussle with the old fellow. I fancy he wouldn’t stand long before his old pupil.”

There were several boys scattered about the campus.

August Locke and Guy entered, and looked about them for someone whom they could interrogate.

The nearest was a stout, well-knit boy, with a strong, resolute face, and a frank expression. In fact, it was Jim Rawdon, already introduced as the friend and adviser of Vivian Bell.

“My boy,” said Locke, with pleasant courtesy, “can you tell me if Dr. Musgrave is in his office?”

“No, sir; not this morning.”

“Isn’t that rather strange—at this hour? You see, I am an old pupil, and haven’t forgotten the ways of the place.”

“He is usually here, sir; but he made an early start to hunt up a pupil who ran away a day or two since.”

“What is the name of the pupil?” asked Guy, quickly.

“Vivian Bell.”

“I thought so,” said Guy.

“Are you a friend of Bell?” asked Rawdon.

“Yes; I am more than a friend, though I never saw him. I am sent here by his guardian.”

“But I thought his guardian lived in Bombay?”

“So he does; but I come from Bombay.”

“I am glad of it,” said Rawdon.

“Are you a friend of Vivian?” asked Guy.

“Yes; I am about the only friend the poor boy has in this place.”

“Do you mean that he is generally unpopular?”

“No; we all like him; but I am the only one who dares stand up for him.”