Stalky & Co. by Rudyard Kipling (young adult books to read .txt) đ
- Author: Rudyard Kipling
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âThat donât matter so much,â said Stalky. âBut the housemasters let their houses alone, and they leave everything to the prefects. Why, in one school, a chap told me, there were big baize doors and a passage about a mile long between the house and the masterâs house. They could do just what they pleased.â
âSatan rebuking sin with a vengeance.â
âOh, larks are right enough; but you know what we mean, Padre. After a bit it gets worse anâ worse. Then thereâs a big bust-up and a row that gets into the papers, and a lot of chaps are expelled, you know.â
âAlways the wrong unâs; donât forget that. Have a cup of cocoa, Padre?â said McTurk with the kettle.
âNo, thanks; Iâm smoking. Always the wrong âuns? Proceed, my Stalky.â
âAnd thenââStalky warmed to the workââeverybody says, âWhoâd haâ thought it? Shockinâ boys! Wicked little kids!â It all comes of havinâ married housemasters, I think.â
âA Daniel come to judgment.â
âBut it does,â McTurk interrupted. âIâve met chaps in the holidays, anâ theyâve told me the same thing. It looks awfully pretty for oneâs people to seeâa nice separate house with a nice lady in charge, anâ all that. But it isnât. It takes the housemasters off their work, and it gives the prefects a heap too much power, anââanââit rots up everything. You see, it isnât as if we were just an ordinary school. We take crammersâ rejections as well as good little boys like Stalky. Weâve got to do that to make our name, of course, and we get âem into Sandhurst somehow or other, donât we?â
âTrue, O Turk. Like a book thou talkest, Turkey.â
âAnd so we want rather different masters, donât you think so, to other places? We arenât like the rest of the schools.â
âIt leads to all sorts of bullyinâ, too, a chap told me,â said Beetle.
âWell, you do need most of a single manâs time, I must say.â The Reverend John considered his hosts critically. âBut do you never feel that the worldâthe Common-roomâis too much with you sometimes?â
âNot exactlyâin summer, anyhow.â Stalkyâs eye roved contentedly to the window. âOur bounds are pretty big, too, and they leave us to ourselves a good deal.â
âFor example, here am I sitting in your study, very much in your way, eh?â
âIndeed you arenât, Padre. Sit down. Donât go, sir. You know weâre glad whenever you come.â
There was no doubting the sincerity of the voices. The Reverend John flushed a little with pleasure and refilled his briar.
âAnd we generally know where the Common-room are,â said Beetle triumphantly. âDidnât you come through our lower dormitories last night after ten, sir?â
âI went to smoke a pipe with your housemaster. No, I didnât give him any impressions. I took a short cut through your dormitories.â
âI sniffed a whiff of âbaccy, this morninâ. Yours is stronger than Mr. Proutâs. I knew,â said Beetle, wagging his head.
âGood heavens!â said the Reverend John absently. It was some years before Beetle perceived that this was rather a tribute to innocence than observation. The long, light, blindless dormitories, devoid of inner doors, were crossed at all hours of the night by masters visiting one another; for bachelors sit up later than married folk. Beetle had never dreamed that there might be a purpose in this steady policing.
âTalking about bullying,â the Reverend John resumed, âyou all caught it pretty hot when you were fags, didnât you?â
âWell, we must have been rather awful little beasts,â said Beetle, looking serenely over the gulf between eleven and sixteen. âMy Hat, what bullies they were thenâFairburn, âGobbyâ Maunsell, and all that gang!â
ââMember when âGobbyâ called us the Three Blind Mice, and we had to get up on the lockers and sing while he buzzed inkpots at us?â said Stalky. âThey were bullies if you like!â
âBut there isnât any of it now,â said McTurk soothingly.
âThatâs where you make a mistake. Weâre all inclined to say that everything is all right as long we arenât ourselves hurt. I sometimes wonder if it is extinctâbullying.â
âFags bully each other horrid; but the upper forms are supposed to be swottinâ for exams. Theyâve got something else to think about,â said Beetle.
âWhy? What do you think?â Stalky was watching the chaplainâs face.
âI have my doubts.â Then, explosively, âOn my word, for three moderately intelligent boys you arenât very observant. I suppose you were too busy making things warm for your housemaster to see what lay under your noses when you were in the form-rooms last week?â
âWhat, sir? IâI swear we didnât see anything,â said Beetle.
âThen Iâd advise you to look. When a little chap is whimpering in a corner and wears his clothes like rags, and never does any work, and is notoriously the dirtiest little âcorridor-cautionâ in the Coll., somethingâs wrong somewhere.â
âThatâs Clewer,â said McTurk under his breath.
âYes, Clewer. He comes to me for his French. Itâs his first term, and heâs almost as complete a wreck as you were, Beetle. Heâs not naturally clever, but he has been hammered till heâs nearly an idiot.â
âOh, no. They sham silly to get off more tickings,â said Beetle. âI know that.â
âIâve never actually seen him knocked about,â said the Reverend John.
âThe genuine article donât do that in public,â said Beetle. âFairburn never touched me when any one was looking on.â
âYou neednât swagger about it, Beetle,â said McTurk. âWe all caught it in our time.â
âBut I got it worse than any one,â said Beetle. âIf you want an authority on bullyinâ, Padre, come to me. Corkscrewsâbrush-drillâkeysâhead-knucklinââ arm-twistinâârockinâ -Ag Agsâand all the rest of it.â
âYes. I do want you as an authority, or rather I want your authority to stop itâall of you.â
âWhat about Abana and Pharpar, PadreâHarrison and Craye? They are Mr. Proutâs pets,â said McTurk a little bitterly. âWe arenât even sub-prefects.â
âIâve considered that, but on the other hand, since most bullying is mere thoughtlessnessââ
âNot one little bit of it, Padre,â said McTurk. âBullies like bullyinâ. They mean it. They think it up in lesson and practise it in the quarters.â
âNever mind. If the thing goes up to the prefects it may make another house-row. Youâve had one already. Donât laugh. Listen to me. I ask youâmy own Tenth Legionâto take the thing up quietly. I want little Clewer made to look fairly clean and decentââ
âBlowed if I wash him!â whispered Stalky.
âDecent and self-respecting. As for the other boy, whoever he is, you can use your influenceââa purely secular light flickered in the chaplainâs eyeââin any way you please toâto dissuade him. Thatâs all. Iâll leave it to you. Good-night, mesenfants_.â
âWell, what are we goinâ to do?â Number Five stared at each other.
âYoung Clewer would give his eyes for a place to be quiet in. I know that,â said Beetle. âIf we made him a study-fag, eh?â
âNo!â said McTurk firmly. âHeâs a dirty little brute, and heâd mess up everything. Besides, we ainât goinâ to have any beastly Erickinâ. Dâyou want to walk about with your arm round his neck?â
âHeâd clean out the jam-pots, anyhow; anâ the burnt-porridge saucepanâitâs filthy now.â
âNot good enough,â said Stalky, bringing up both heels with a crash on the table. âIf we find the merry jester whoâs been bullyinâ him anâ make him happy, thatâll be all right. Why didnât we spot him when we were in the form-rooms, though?â
âMaybe a lot of fags have made a dead set at Clewer. They do that sometimes.â
âThen weâll have to kick the whole of the lower school in our houseâon spec. Come on,â said McTurk.
âKeep your hair on! We mustnât make a fuss about the biznai. Whoever it is heâs kept quiet or weâd have seen him,â said Stalky. âWeâll walk round and sniff about till weâre sure.â
They drew the house form-rooms, accounting for every junior and senior against whom they had suspicions; investigated, at Beetleâs suggestion, the lavatories and box-rooms, but without result. Everybody seemed to be present save Clewer.
âRum!â said Stalky, pausing outside a study door. âGolly!â
A thin piping mixed with tears came muffled through the panels.
ââAs beautiful Kitty one morning was trippingâââ
âLouder, you young devil, or Iâll buzz a book at you!â
ââWith a pitcher of milkââ Oh, Campbell, please donât! âTo the fair ofââ
A book crashed on something soft, and squeals arose.
âWell, I never thought it was a study-chap, anyhow. That accounts for our not spotting him,â said Beetle. âSefton and Campbell are rather hefty chaps to tackle. Besides, one canât go into their study like a form-room.â
âWhat swine!â McTurk listened. âWhereâs the fun of it? I suppose Clewerâs fagginâ for them.â
âThey arenât prefects. Thatâs one good job,â said Stalky, with his war-grin. âSefton and Campbell! Um! Campbell and Sefton! Ah! One of âemâs a crammerâs pup.â
The two were precocious hairy youths between seventeen and eighteen, sent to the school in despair by parents who hoped that six monthsâ steady cram might, perhaps, jockey them into Sandhurst. Nominally they were in Mr. Proutâs house; actually they were under the Headâs eye; and since he was very careful never to promote strange new boys to prefectships, they considered they had a grievance against the school. Sefton had spent three months with a London crammer, and the tale of his adventures there lost nothing in the telling. Campbell, who had a fine taste in clothes and a fluent vocabulary, followed his lead in looking down loftily on the rest of the world. This was only their second term, and the school, used to what it profanely called âcrammersâ pups,â had treated them with rather galling reserve. But their whiskersâSefton owned a real razorâand their mustaches were beyond question impressive.
âShall we go in anâ dissuade âem?â McTurk asked. âIâve never had much to do with âem, but Iâll bet my hat Campbellâs a funk.â
âNoâo! Thatâs oratiodirecta_,â said Stalky, shaking his head. âI like oratioobliqua_. âSides, whereâd our moral influence be then? Think oâ that!â
âRot! What are you goinâ to do?â Beetle turned into Lower Number Nine form-room, next door to the study.
âMe?â The lights of war flickered over Stalkyâs face. âOh, I want to jape with âem. Shut up a bit!â
He drove his hands into his pockets and stared out of window at the sea, whistling between his teeth. Then a foot tapped the floor; one shoulder lifted; he wheeled, and began the short quick double-shuffleâthe wardance of Stalky in meditation. Thrice he crossed the empty form-room, with compressed lips and expanded nostrils, swaying to the quick-step. Then he halted before the dumb Beetle and softly knuckled his bead, Beetle bowing to the strokes. McTurk nursed one knee and rocked to and fro. They could hear Clewer howling as though his heart would break.
âBeetle is the sacrifice,â Stalky said at last, âIâm sorry for you, Beetle. âMember Galtonâs âArt of Travelâ [one of the forms had been studying that pleasant work] anâ the kid whose bleatinâ excited the tiger?â
âOh, curse!â said Beetle uneasily. It was not his first season as a sacrifice. âCanât you get on without me?â
ââFraid not, Beetle, dear. Youâve got to be bullied by Turkey anâ me. The more you howl, oâ course, the better itâll be. Turkey, go anâ covet a stump and a box-rope from somewhere. Weâll tie him up for a killâ_aâla Galton. âMember when âMollyâ Fairburn made us cock-fight with our shoes off, anâ tied up our knees?â
âBut that hurt like sin.â
âCourse it did. What a clever chap you are, Beetle! Turkeyâll knock you all over the place. âMember weâve had a big row all round, anâ Iâve trapped you into doinâ this. Lend us your wipe.â Beetle
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