LITMIR.BIZ

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help me with this verse, Collins,’ said one boy to another, in an imploring tone, ‘that’s a good fellow.’

      ‘Well, give it us: first syllable in fabri is short; three false quantities in the two first lines! You’re a pretty one. There, I have done it for you.’

      ‘That’s a good fellow.’

      ‘Any fellow seen Buckhurst?’

      ‘Gone up the river with Coningsby and Henry Sydney.’

      ‘But he must be back by this time. I want him to make the list for the match to-morrow. Where the deuce can Buckhurst be?’

      And now, as rumours rise in society we know not how, so there was suddenly a flying report in this multitude, the origin of which no one in his alarm stopped to ascertain, that a boy was drowned.

      Every heart was agitated.

      What boy? When, where, how? Who was absent? Who had been on the river to-day? Buckhurst. The report ran that Buckhurst was drowned. Great were the trouble and consternation. Buckhurst was ever much liked; and now no one remembered anything but his good qualities.

      ‘Who heard it was Buckhurst?’ said Sedgwick, captain of the school, coming forward.

      ‘I heard Bradford tell Palmer it was Buckhurst,’ said a little boy.

      ‘Where is Bradford?’

      ‘Here.’

      ‘What do you know about Buckhurst?’

      ‘Wentworth told me that he was afraid Buckhurst was drowned. He heard it at the Brocas; a bargeman told him about a quarter of an hour ago.’

      ‘Here is Wentworth! Here is Wentworth!’ a hundred voices exclaimed, and they formed a circle round him.

      ‘Well, what did you hear, Wentworth?’ asked Sedgwick.

      ‘I was at the Brocas, and a bargee told me that an Eton fellow had been drowned above Surley, and the only Eton boat above Surley to-day, as I can learn, is Buckhurst’s four-oar. That is all.’

      There was a murmur of hope.

      ‘Oh! come, come,’ said Sedgwick, ‘there is come chance. Who is with Buckhurst; who knows?’

      ‘I saw him walk down to the Brocas with Vere,’ said a boy.

      ‘I hope it is not Vere,’ said a little boy, with a tearful eye; ‘he never lets any fellow bully me.’

      ‘Here is Maltravers,’ halloed out a boy; ‘he knows something.’

      ‘Well, what do you know, Maltravers?’

      ‘I heard Boots at the Christopher say that an Eton fellow was drowned, and that he had seen a person who was there.’

      ‘Bring Boots here,’ said Sedgwick.

      Instantly a band of boys rushed over the way, and in a moment the witness was produced.

      ‘What have you heard, Sam, about this accident?’ said Sedgwick.

      ‘Well, sir, I heard a young gentleman was drowned above Monkey Island,’ said Boots.

      ‘And no name mentioned?’

      ‘Well, sir, I believe it was Mr. Coningsby.’

      A general groan of horror.

      ‘Coningsby, Coningsby! By Heavens I hope not,’ said Sedgwick.

      ‘I very much fear so,’ said Boots; ‘as how the bargeman who told me saw Mr. Coningsby in the Lock House laid out in flannels.’

      ‘I had sooner any fellow had been drowned than Coningsby,’ whispered one boy to another.

      ‘I liked him, the best fellow at Eton,’ responded his companion, in a smothered tone.

      ‘What a clever fellow he was!’

      ‘And so deuced generous!’

      ‘He would have got the medal if he had lived.’

      ‘And how came he to be drowned? for he was such a fine swimmer!’

      ‘I heerd Mr. Coningsby was saving another’s life,’ continued Boots in his evidence, ‘which makes it in a manner more sorrowful.’

      ‘Poor Coningsby!’ exclaimed a boy, bursting into tears: ‘I move the whole school goes into mourning.’

      ‘I wish we could get hold of this bargeman,’ said Sedgwick. ‘Now stop, stop, don’t all run away in that mad manner; you frighten the people. Charles Herbert and Palmer, you two go down to the Brocas and inquire.’

      But just at this moment, an increased stir and excitement were evident in the Long Walk; the circle round Sedgwick opened, and there appeared Henry Sydney and Buckhurst.

      There was a dead silence. It was impossible that suspense could be strained to a higher pitch. The air and countenance of Sydney and Buckhurst were rather excited than mournful or alarmed. They needed no inquiries, for before they had penetrated the circle they had become aware of its cause.

      Buckhurst, the most energetic of beings, was of course the first to speak. Henry Sydney indeed looked pale and nervous; but his companion, flushed and resolute, knew exactly how to hit a popular assembly, and at once came to the point.

      ‘It is all a false report, an infernal lie; Coningsby is quite safe, and nobody is drowned.’

      There was a cheer that might have been heard at Windsor Castle. Then, turning to Sedgwick, in an undertone Buckhurst added,

      ‘It is all right, but, by Jove! we have had a shaver. I will tell you all in a moment, but we want to keep the thing quiet, and so let the fellows disperse, and we will talk afterwards.’

      In a few moments the Long Walk had resumed its usual character; but Sedgwick, Herbert, and one or two others turned into the playing fields, where, undisturbed and unnoticed by the multitude, they listened to the promised communication of Buckhurst and Henry Sydney.

      ‘You know we went up the river together,’ said Buckhurst. ‘Myself, Henry Sydney, Coningsby, Vere, and Millbank. We had breakfasted together, and after twelve agreed to go up to Maidenhead. Well, we went up much higher than we had intended. About a quarter of a mile before we had got to the Lock we pulled up; Coningsby was then steering. Well, we fastened the boat to, and were all of us stretched out on the meadow, when Millbank and Vere said they should go and bathe in the Lock Pool. The rest of us were opposed; but after Millbank and Vere had gone about ten minutes, Coningsby, who was very fresh, said he had changed his mind and should go and bathe too. So he left us. He had scarcely got to the pool when he heard a cry. There was a fellow drowning. He threw off his clothes and was in in a moment. The fact is this, Millbank had plunged in the pool and found himself in some eddies, caused by the meeting of two currents. He called out to Vere not to come, and tried to swim off. But he was beat, and seeing he was in danger, Vere jumped in. But the stream was so strong, from the great fall of water from the lasher above, that Vere was exhausted before he could reach Millbank, and nearly sank himself. Well, he just saved himself; but Millbank sank as Coningsby jumped in. What do you think of that?’

      ‘By Jove!’ exclaimed Sedgwick, Herbert, and all. The favourite oath of schoolboys perpetuates the divinity of Olympus.

      ‘And now comes the worst. Coningsby caught Millbank when he rose, but he found himself in the midst of the same strong current that had before nearly swamped Vere. What a lucky thing that he had taken into his head not to pull to-day! Fresher than Vere, he just managed to land Millbank and himself. The shouts of Vere called us, and we arrived to find the bodies of Millbank and Coningsby apparently lifeless, for Millbank was quite gone, and Coningsby had swooned on landing.’

      ‘If Coningsby had been lost,’ said Henry Sydney, ‘I never would have shown my face at Eton again.’

      ‘Can you conceive a position more terrible?’ said Buckhurst. ‘I declare I shall never forget it as long as I live. However, there was the Lock House at hand; and we got blankets and brandy. Coningsby was soon all right; but Millbank, I can tell you, gave us some trouble. I thought

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