Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- England -- Juvenile fiction; Sports stories
In an upstairs study one remained. He stood at the window looking out
into the dark, his shoulders squarely set and his heart throbbing with
forlorn hope. Every man jack in the school had been a brick to him. It
might be that they could win the day by strength of numbers. If so he
believed that they would never have a more ardent captain in any year to
come than he would be for them this term. But deep in his heart he was
desperately afraid. The school were strong, but he had an instinctive
fear that they would not be strong enough to win. So he stood waiting, a
silent watcher, for the answer that would come.
* * * * *
A group of masters were standing quietly on the flight of wide stone
steps; at windows and doors porters and servants of the school, their
faces round with wonder, had gradually appeared; but the wide, stiff
phalanx that showed the real strength of Harley’s purpose had never
moved. Six hundred boys were waiting in silent dignity for an answer
from the Head, and when he had drawn aside the heavy curtains and had
gazed upon them, no single boy had seemed to move a muscle of his face,
not even a solitary cough had snapped the magic of their studied
silence.
So they had waited, and at last their answer was on the way. Under the
archway the old oak door swung slowly on its hinges. Then Pointon came.
He moved with a hesitant step, waiting for those behind him, and though
the watchers had hoped that he would give them some kind of cue he made
no sign, only at last, with Smythe and Terence at his elbow, and the
deputation at his heels, he moved towards the crowd.
Every face turned tensely towards him, pale and uplifted in the dusk,
and seeming to sway this way and that as if for a better view of his
real expression.
And now a stillness that was even more telling than the utter quiet of
their waiting settled upon the crowd whilst Pointon climbed on to the
parapet and looked out over them grimly.
There was no need to lift his hand. Without one gesture his quietly
steady voice broke that ominous hush, and spoke his message.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account