Presently they came within sight of the signpost which marks the junction of the Gurley and Sharle Bridge roads.

"Here we are at last!" cried Charlie, panting and puffing. "I say, Tom Drift, I don't believe I could have carried this bag any farther if I'd tried."

"It'll be lighter when we go home. Hullo! who are these three?" for at this moment Gus, Margetson, and Shadbolt made their appearance.

"They look like Randlebury fellows by their caps. Oh, I know who one of them is," added Charlie-- "Margetson, in the fourth; don't you know him?"

"Rather!" replied Tom; "and the other two are Shaddy and Gus. Who'd have thought of meeting _them_!" and he gave a whistle, which succeeded in attracting the attention of the worthy trio.

Of course their surprise at meeting Tom and his companion was no less great--in fact, they had to inquire who the youngster was.

"Where are you off to?" demanded Gus.

"We're going to try our luck up the Sharle," said Tom.

"You'll be sold if you do," said Gus. "We were down looking at it, and a pretty state it's in. Old Skinner at the Tannery took it into his head to leave his gates up last night, and his muck has got into the river and poisoned every fish in it--hasn't it, Shad?"

"Rather!" replied Shad. "I was glad enough to get my nose away from the place."

"Here's a go, Charlie!" said Tom, turning to his young companion.

During this short conversation Charlie had pa.s.sed through all the anguish of a bitter disappointment. It is no light thing to have the hope of days snuffed out all in a moment, and he was ready to cry with vexation. However it couldn't be helped, and he had learned before now how to take a disappointment like a man. So when Tom appealed to him he put a good face on it, and said,--

"Awful hard lines. Never mind, let's go back and see the match with the Badgers, Tom."

"Why don't you come with us?" asked Gus. "We are going to Gurley; have you ever been to Gurley, young un?"

"No," said Charlie.

"Come along, then, we'll show it you. It's a prime town, isn't it, Margetson?"

"Don't ask me," said Margetson; "I'd sooner see about Gurley than catch a seven-pounder, any day."

"And besides," said Tom, "isn't there some good fishing above the lock!

Come along, Charlie; we shall not be baulked of our day's sport after all."

Charlie joined the party, although he did not conceive any great admiration for Tom's three friends. His anxiety not to offend his now reconciled enemy, and the possibility of fishing after all, overruled him; and still dragging the bag, he trudged along with the others towards Gurley.

As they approached the town he could not help noticing the number of holiday-makers and vehicles that pa.s.sed them. There were drags full of gaily-dressed ladies; and gentlemen who wore veils; and there were light jaunty dog-carts with spruce young white-hatted gentlemen perched in them; there were vans in which corks were popping like musketry fires and parties on foot like themselves, hurrying forward with loud laughter and coa.r.s.e music.

"Surely," thought he, "there's something on at Gurley."

Presently a waggonette, driven by a very loud youth in a check suit, and with an enormous cigar in his mouth, pulled up in pa.s.sing, and its driver addressed Gus.

"So you've found _your_ way here, have you, my young bantam? Catch _you_ being out of a good thing. Are you going on the grand stand?"

"Don't know," said Gus grandly. "We may pick up a trap in the town."

"Ho, ho! going to do it flash, are you? Well, there's one of you could do with a little spice," added he, glancing at Charlie. "I suppose my trap's not grand enough for you."

"Can you give us a lift, then, Bill?" asked Gus, charmed at the idea.

"Yes, to be sure; I've no company to-day. There's just room. Hop in.

I may as well turn an honest penny as not. Here, you young sinner, jump up beside me on the box." And before Charlie knew where he was or whither he was going he found himself on the box of the waggonette beside the flash youth, and his four friends behind him inside.

"Who's your friend, Gus?" he heard Margetson ask.

"Son of Belsham, who keeps the `Green Tiger' at Randlebury. We're in luck, I can tell you, you fellows."

As Charlie gradually recovered from his bewilderment he felt himself extremely uncomfortable and ill at ease. From what had been said he had gathered that the object of the boys in going to Gurley was something more than to see the town; and he by no means liked Gus's new friend, or approved of his easy familiarity with a low publican's son. It was not long before his dawning suspicions were fully confirmed.

"So you're going to see the races?" asked Mr Belsham.

"No, I'm not," replied Charlie, as curtly as he could, for he had no desire to encourage the conversation of this objectionable person.

"Ain't you? And what are you going to do, then, my young lamb?" And in the course of this brief sentence Mr Belsham succeeded in interjecting at least three oaths.

"I shan't speak to you if you swear," said Charlie; "it's wrong to swear."

"No! is it? Who says that?"

"My father says so," blurted out Charlie, fully satisfied that no better reason could be demanded.

Belsham laughed, and turning to the four inside, said,--

"I say, young gentlemen, this young pippin tells me he's got a father who says it's wrong to swear. What do you think of that?"

"His father must be an amusing man," replied Gus.

"Wait till we get on to the course," said Margetson; "he'll hear something to astonish him there, young prig!"

"I'm not going to the races!" cried my master, starting from his seat, and now fully alive to the fraud of which he had been made the victim.

"How could you do this, Tom Drift! Let me down, will you!" and he struggled so desperately with Belsham that that gentleman was obliged to let go the reins in order to hold him.

Of course it was no use his resisting. Amid the shouts and jeers of his schoolfellows he was held on to the box. In vain he pleaded, besought, struggled, threatened; there he was compelled to stay, all through Gurley and out to the racecourse. Here he found himself in the midst of a yelling, blaspheming, drunken mult.i.tude, from the sight of whose faces and the sound of whose words his soul revolted so vehemently that it lent new vigour to his exhausted frame, and urged him to one last desperate struggle to free himself and escape from his tormentors.

"Look here," said Belsham to Gus; "if you suppose I'm going to have all my fun spoiled by looking after this cub of yours while you're enjoying yourselves there inside, you're mistaken; here, look after him yourselves."

So saying, he dragged Charlie from his seat and swung him down into the waggonette with such force that he lay there half stunned and incapable of further resistance, and so for the time being saved his persecutors a good deal of trouble.

And indeed had it been otherwise it is hardly likely they would have just then been able to pay him much attention, for at that moment the horses were all drawn up at the starting-post, waiting for the signal to go.

That was a feverish moment for Tom Drift. He had bet all his money on one horse, and if that horse did not win, he would lose every penny of it.

As usual, he had repented a hundred times of that day's business, and the last brutal outrage on poor Charlie had called up even in his seared breast a fleeting feeling of indescribable shame. It was, alas! only fleeting.

Next moment he forgot all but the horses. There they stood in a long restless line. A shout! and they were off. In the first wild scramble he could catch a sight of the colours on which his hopes depended near the front. On they came like the wind. A man near shouted the name of Tom's horse--"It's winning," and Tom's head swam at the sound. On still nearer, and now they have pa.s.sed. In the retreating, straggling crowd he can see his horse still, but it seems to be going back instead of forward. Like a torrent the others overhaul and pa.s.s it. Then a louder shout than usual proclaims the race over, and the favourite beaten, and Tom staggers down to his seat sick and half stupid.