CHAPTER VII
THE PIGEONS
"Et motae ad Lunam trepidabis arundinis umbram."
Juv. X. 21.
"How awfully dull it is, Charlie," said Eric, a few weeks before Easter, as he sat with Wildney in his study one holiday afternoon.
"Yes; too late for football, too early for cricket." And Wildney stretched himself and yawned.
"I suppose this is what they call ennui," said Eric again, after a pause. "What is to be done, Sunbeam?"
"You _shan't_ call me that, so there's an end of it," said Wildney, hitting him on the arm.
"By the bye, Eric, you remind me to-morrow's my birth-day, and I've got a parcel coming this afternoon full of grub from home. Let's go and see if it's come."
"Capital! We will."
So Eric and Wildney started off to the coach-office, where they found the hamper, and ordered it to be brought at once to the school, and carried up to Eric's study.
On opening it they found it rich in dainties, among which were a pair of fowls and a large plum-cake.
"Hurrah!" said Wildney, "you were talking of nothing to do; I vote we have a carouse to-morrow."
"Very well; only let's have it _before_ prayers, because we were so nearly caught last time."
"Ay, and let it be in one of the class-rooms, Eric; not up here, lest we have another incursion of the 'Rosebuds.' I shall have to cut preparation, but that don't matter, It's Harley's night, and old Stupid will never twig."
"Well, whom shall we ask?" said Eric.
"Old Llewellyn for one," said Wildney. "We havn't seen him for an age, and he's getting too lazy even for a bit of fun."
"Good; and Graham," suggested Eric. He and Wildney regarded their possessions so much as common property, that he hadn't the least delicacy in mentioning the boys whom he wanted to invite.
"Yes; Graham's a jolly bird; and Bull?"
"I've no objection; and Pietrie?"
"Well; and your brother Vernon?"
"No!" said Eric, emphatically. "At any rate I won't lead _him_ into mischief any more."
"Attlay, then; and what do you say to Brooking?"
"No, again," said Eric; "he's a blackguard."
"I wonder you haven't mentioned Duncan," said Wildney.
"Duncan! why, my dear child, you might as well ask Owen, or even old Rose, at once. Bless you, Charlie, he's a great deal too correct to come now."
"Well; we've got six already, that's quite enough."
"Yes; but two fowls isn't enough for six hungry boys."
"No, it isn't," said Wildney. He thought a little, and then, clapping his hands, danced about and said, "Are you game for a _regular_ lark, Eric?"
"Yes; anything to make it less dull. I declare I've very nearly been taking to work again to fill up the time."
Eric often talked now of work in this slighting way partly as an excuse for the low places in form to which he was gradually sinking. Everybody knew that had he properly exerted his abilities he was capable of beating almost any boy; so, to quiet his conscience, he professed to ridicule diligence as an unboyish piece of muffishness, and was never slow to sneer at the "grinders," as he contemptuously called all those who laid themselves out to win school distinctions.
"Ha, ha!" said Wildney, "that's rather good! No, Eric, it's too late for you to turn 'grinder' now. I might as well think of doing it myself, and I've never been higher than five from lag in my form yet."
"Haven't you? But what's the regular lark you hinted at?"
"Why, we'll go and seize the Gordonites' _pigeons_, and make another dish of them."
"Seize the Gordonites' pigeons! Why, when do you mean?"
"To-night."
Eric gave a long whistle. "But wouldn't it be st--t--?"
"Stealing?" said Wildney, with a loud laugh. "Pooh! '_convey_ the wise call it.'"
But Eric still looked serious. "Why, my dear old boy," continued Wildney, "the Gordonites'll be the first to laugh at the trick when we tell them of it next morning, as of course we will do. There, now, don't look grumpy. I shall cut away and arrange it with. Graham, and tell you the whole dodge ready prepared to-night at bed-time."
After lights were put out, Wildney came up to the study according to promise, and threw out hints about the proposed plan. He didn't tell it plainly, because Duncan was there, but Duncan caught enough to guess what was intended, and said, when Wildney had gone--
"Take my advice, and have nothing to do with this, Eric."
Eric had grown very touchy lately about advice, particularly from any fellow of his own standing; and after the checks he had recently received, a coolness had sprung up between him and nearly all the study-boys, which made him more than ever inclined to assert his independence, and defy and thwart them in every way.
"Keep your advice to yourself, Duncan, till it's asked for," he answered, roughly. "You've done nothing but _advise_ lately, and I'm rather sick of it."
"Comme vous voulez," replied Duncan, with a shrug. "Gang your own gait; I'll have nothing more to do with trying to stop you, since you _will_ ruin yourself."
Nothing more was said in the study that evening, and when Eric went down he didn't even bid Duncan goodnight.
"Charlie," he said, as he stole on tiptoe into Wildney's dormitory.
"Hush!" whispered Wildney, "the other fellows are asleep. Come and sit by my bedside, and I'll tell you what we're going to do."
Eric went and sat by him, and he sat up in his bed "First of all, _you're_ to keep awake till twelve to-night," he whispered; "old Rowley'll have gone round by that time, and it'll be all safe. Then come and awake me again, and I'll watch till one, Pietrie till two, and Graham till three. Then Graham'll awake us all, and we'll dress."
"Very well. But how will you get the key of the lavatory?"