"Tree'd at last," thinks Tom, ****** no answer, and keeping as close as possible, but working away at the rod, which he takes to pieces. "I'm in for it, unless I can starve him out." And then he begins to meditate getting along the branch for a plunge, and scramble to the other side; but the small branches are so thick, and the opposite bank so difficult, that the keeper will have lots of time to get round by the ford before he can get out, so he gives that up. And now he hears the keeper beginning to scramble up the trunk. That will never do; so he scrambles himself back to where his branch joins the trunk; and stands with lifted rod.
"Hullo, Velveteens; mind your fingers if you come any higher."
The keeper stops and looks up, and then with a grin says, "Oh! be you, be it, young measter? Well, here's luck. Now I tells 'ee to come down at once, and 't'll be best for 'ee."
"Thank 'ee, Velveteens; I'm very comfortable," said Tom, shortening the rod in his hand, and preparing for battle.
"Werry well; please yourself," says the keeper, descending, however, to the ground again, and taking his seat on the bank.
"I bean't in no hurry, so you may take your time. I'll l'arn 'ee to gee honest folk names afore I've done with 'ee."
"My luck as usual," thinks Tom; "what a fool I was to give him a black! If I'd called him 'keeper,' now, I might get off. The return match is all his way."
The keeper quietly proceeded to take out his pipe, fill, and light it, keeping an eye on Tom, who now sat disconsolately across the branch, looking at keeper--a pitiful sight for men and fishes. The more he thought of it the less he liked it.
"It must be getting near second calling-over," thinks he.
Keeper smokes on stolidly. "If he takes me up, I shall be flogged safe enough. I can't sit here all night. Wonder if he'll rise at silver."
"I say, keeper," said he meekly, "let me go for two bob?"
"Not for twenty neither," grunts his persecutor.
And so they sat on till long past second calling-over, and the sun came slanting in through the willow-branches, and telling of locking-up near at hand.
"I'm coming down, keeper," said Tom at last, with a sigh, fairly tired out. "Now what are you going to do?"
"Walk 'ee up to School, and give 'ee over to the Doctor; them's my orders," says Velveteens, knocking the ashes out of his fourth pipe, and standing up and shaking himself.
"Very good," said Tom; "but hands off, you know. I'll go with you quietly, so no collaring or that sort of thing."
Keeper looked at him a minute. "Werry good," said he at last.
And so Tom descended, and wended his way drearily by the side of the keeper, up to the Schoolhouse, where they arrived just at locking-up. As they passed the School-gates, the Tadpole and several others who were standing there caught the state of things, and rushed out, crying, "Rescue!" But Tom shook his head; so they only followed to the Doctor's gate, and went back sorely puzzled.
How changed and stern the Doctor seemed from the last time that Tom was up there, as the keeper told the story, not omitting to state how Tom had called him blackguard names. "Indeed, sir," broke in the culprit, "it was only Velveteens." The Doctor only asked one question.
"You know the rule about the banks, Brown?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then wait for me to-morrow, after first lesson."
"I thought so," muttered Tom.
"And about the rod, sir?" went on the keeper. "Master's told we as we might have all the rods--"
"Oh, please, sir," broke in Tom, "the rod isn't mine."
The Doctor looked puzzled; but the keeper, who was a good-hearted fellow, and melted at Tom's evident distress, gave up his claim. Tom was flogged next morning, and a few days afterwards met Velveteens, and presented him with half a crown for giving up the rod claim, and they became sworn friends; and I regret to say that Tom had many more fish from under the willow that May-fly season, and was never caught again by Velveteens.
It wasn't three weeks before Tom, and now East by his side, were again in the awful presence. This time, however, the Doctor was not so terrible. A few days before, they had been fagged at fives to fetch the balls that went off the court. While standing watching the game, they saw five or six nearly new balls hit on the top of the School. "I say, Tom," said East, when they were dismissed, "couldn't we get those balls somehow?"
"Let's try, anyhow."
So they reconnoitred the walls carefully, borrowed a coal-hammer from old Stumps, bought some big nails, and after one or two attempts, scaled the Schools, and possessed themselves of huge quantities of fives balls. The place pleased them so much that they spent all their spare time there, scratching and cutting their names on the top of every tower; and at last, having exhausted all other places, finished up with inscribing H.EAST, T.BROWN, on the minute-hand of the great clock; in the doing of which they held the minute-hand, and disturbed the clock's economy. So next morning, when masters and boys came trooping down to prayers, and entered the quadrangle, the injured minute-hand was indicating three minutes to the hour. They all pulled up, and took their time. When the hour struck, doors were closed, and half the school late. Thomas being set to make inquiry, discovers their names on the minute-hand, and reports accordingly; and they are sent for, a knot of their friends ****** derisive and pantomimic allusions to what their fate will be as they walk off.
But the Doctor, after hearing their story, doesn't make much of it, and only gives them thirty lines of Homer to learn by heart, and a lecture on the likelihood of such exploits ending in broken bones.
