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Updated: May 16, 2025
Dick was surprised; as he took the note Jacker discovered an accusation in his eye. 'The oath don't say nothin' agin' letters, said McKnight sullenly. 'No, answered his mate, 'but really miners ain't supposed to have mothers runnin' after 'em, like if they were kids.
Peterson risked cuts with criminal recklessness in his efforts to communicate with Dick when the latter took his seat, and Jacker, who sat next, edged up close to Dick and whispered excitedly: 'What happened? What'd he do? Where yer been? 'Been, said Dick, 'oh, just havin' dinner up at The House. 'Wha-at with ole Jock? 'With Mr. and Mrs. Summers, J.P. 'Gerrout! yer can't stuff me.
Peterson, Jacker Mack, Dolf Belman, Fred Cann, Phil Doon, and Dick Haddon, and a few kindred spirits composed this class; and it was sheer lust of life, the wildness of bush-bred boys, that inspired them with their irreverent impishness, although the brethren professed to discover evidence of the direct influence of a personal devil.
'Quarters! murmured Peterson from his hiding place behind the desk. 'P'raps I don't know somethin' too, continued Jacker mysteriously. Dick Haddon cocked his eye. 'Pompey, the woodjammer, tol' me he see that bandy whimboy what you fought at the picnic ridin' your billy down to Cow Flat, an' Butts seemed to like it. This was serious.
Probably the excessive heat had suggested to Dick Haddon the advisability of spending the afternoon under the school instead of within the close crowded room; at any rate he suggested it to Jacker McKnight, commonly known as Jacker Mack, and now after an hour of it the boys were still jubilant.
Jacker looked doubtful still; he could not imagine his parents in that character; but Peterson was delighted with the prospect, and Phil Doon, whose mother was a large, stout woman, who spent half her day in bed reading sentimental stories, was quite impressed, and enlisted on the spot. 'You'll be my lieutenant, you know, Jacker, said Dick; 'an' we'll call you Fork Lightnin'. 'Hoo!
'After us! Peterson's face paled at this corroboration of his worst suspicions. 'My oath! Gable's in gaol at Yarraman; Phil an' Jacker an' Ted's been took, an' now they're after you. Fer what? 'Rob'ry under arms, the feller said, an' shooting with intent' r somethin'. Dick whistled incredulously. Here was fame, here was glory.
'Mus' be an awful lark to have Hamlet layin' it on, an' you not feelin' it all the time. 'My oath I' said Jacker Mack feelingly. 'Good morning, boys. Joel Ham, B.A., had stolen in amongst them, and stood there in an odd crow-like attitude, his mottled face screwed into an expression of quizzical amiability, and his daily bottle sticking obtrusively from the inside lining of his old coat.
'D'ye really think they will, though? asked Jacker McKnight dubiously. He had found his parents very unromantic people, who took a severely commonplace view of things, and retained unquestioning faith in the strap as a means of elevating the youthful idea. 'Why, o' course! cried Dick.
Dick and Jacker gripped like twin bull-terriers, rolling and tumbling about in the confined space, careless of everything but the important business in hand. Suddenly Mr. Ham made his spring, and a smart haul brought a leg to light. Another tug, and a second leg shot forth. 'Pull, boys! he cried.
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