and I was the first on the spot and therefore bound to do something.”
“Get on with yer! Bound to do something! Yes, it’s run away most of us would do – least – I don’t know, though; I expects we’d have had a try to drive the brute off. But for you, a kid like you, Phil, to tackle the job all alone, and with only a pitchfork too, why, it just knocks all the stuffin’ out of me. Give us yer flipper, mate. You’re a true un, and don’t you go a-telling me yer didn’t know it was Tony as lay there. I heard yer shout it. So no more of them fibs.”
Jim got quite indignant, and then shook Phil’s hand, squeezing it so hard that he could have shouted with the pain.
“And that chap Tony’s goin’ to live too,” he went on. “If he don’t say summat out o’ the ord’nary, blest if I won’t set to work and give him the biggest hidin’ he ever had. That is, when he’s strong again. Now, young un, turn over and get to sleep. You’ve had a roughish time, and a go of grog ain’t sufficient to pull yer round.”
Phil obediently curled himself up and promptly fell asleep, but only to dream that it was. Joe Sweetman who lay helpless upon the ground, while the figure that was crouching over him, and that rushed at himself when he ran to the rescue, was none other than “old Bumble”, rendered furious by the joke played upon his statue. It was an awful moment when Phil plunged the fork into the old gentleman’s massive chest, and so upset him that he awoke, to find himself drenched with perspiration, but decidedly better for all that, while through the open door he could see Jim, pipe in mouth and in his shirt sleeves, squatting over the fire and preparing breakfast.
Another month passed, making the third that Phil had spent in his new employment, and ending also his seventeenth year. Short as the time had been it had done much for him. He had filled out a little, and though his face was still that of a boy, his limbs and body were big, so that, if he could only pass inspection, he was quite fitted to take his place in the ranks as a full-grown man. By this time he had completed a long journey into the country, and having returned to London with Jim and the old soldier, he was not long in looking up his friend, Sergeant-major Williams.
“Back again, sir, and filled out and healthier-looking, too! How do you like the life?” the latter exclaimed.
“I never spent a better or more profitable three months, never in my life,” said Phil emphatically. “We’ve had grand weather, and always fresh scenery. The work was not too hard, and my comrades were all that I could wish for. In addition, I have saved close upon five pounds, which was simply impossible when I was living here.”
“Ah, glad you like it, lad! But I thought you would; and now I suppose you’ll be off again soon?”
“Yes, but not with the van and my old comrades,” said Phil. “The best I can do there is to become a foreman in charge of a number of cages. I mean to enlist and try my fortune in the army.”
“Bless the lad!” exclaimed the sergeant-major. “He’s as long-headed as a lawyer, and always thinking of the future. But you couldn’t do better than that. Keep it always in your mind’s eye and you’ll get on. Now, what regiment will you go for? I’m from the Guards, and of course I say there’s none to beat them. It’s the truth too, as others can tell you.”
“I’ve been thinking it over,” Phil answered, “and I have decided to become a Grenadier – one of the old Grenadiers.”
The sergeant-major’s features flushed, and he looked not a little flattered, for he too was one of the Grenadier Guards, and he knew it was because of his connection with it that Phil had decided to enlist in that regiment.
“You couldn’t do better, sir,” he exclaimed, “and what’s more, by joining them I’ll be able to make your start easier. I am not so old but that some of the non-commissioned officers – N.C.O.’s as we call ’em – remember Owen Williams. I’ve many a pal there, and as soon as you’re ready I’ll take you right along to the barracks and see you ’listed myself.”
A day was fixed, and having learned a few more details, Phil returned to his friends. The latter were genuinely sorry to hear that he was to go, and of all, Jim was perhaps the saddest.
“No one to cook the breakfast no more, now you’re off, young un,” he said, with a ring of true regret in his voice. “Never mind; that chap Tony’s come back, and I’ll turn him on to the job. If he kicks there’ll be trouble, and then I’ll do as I promised yer.”
But Jim was disappointed. For three weeks Tony had lain in bed at a hospital, and for the first six days it was a matter of life and death. The bear’s claws had lacerated his scalp so severely that it was a wonder he survived. But by dint of careful nursing he recovered, and on the very day that Phil had been to see the sergeant-major he returned to the menagerie. But he was a changed man. A double escape from death had cured him of his rowdiness, and when he came towards Phil shamefacedly, offering his hand as though he could not expect it to be shaken, he was filled with deep gratitude for the truly gallant deed that had saved his life.
Phil clutched the hand extended and shook it heartily.
“Ah, sir!” Tony blurted out, with tears in his eyes, “I’ve been a real brute, and no one knows it better nor myself. But yer saved my life, Phil Western, yer did, and I ain’t ungrateful. If you’d left me to be torn to pieces it was only what I deserved, for we wasn’t the best of friends, and a chap as can torment a dumb animal must expect something back in the end. And now, sir, I hear you’re going, and if you’ll let me I’ll come too.”
“Nonsense, Tony!” Phil exclaimed. “You’ve got a good job, and had better stick to it.”
“I had one, but I ain’t now, Phil,” Tony replied dolefully. “The boss give me the sack, saying I’d cost him a good fifty pounds by causing the death of the bear. So I’m out of work now, and if you’re for a soldier, as they tell me, why, so am I too; and I tell yer I’ll stick to yer like a true ’un if you’ll let me come, and one day when you’re an officer I’ll be yer servant.”
Phil laughed good-naturedly, and flushed red when he saw that here was one who thought it was within the bounds of possibility that he would attain to the status of officer.
“It will be a long time before I shall be that, Tony,” he said, with a smile; “but if you really have made up your mind to be a soldier, come with me. There’s been bad blood between us up to this, but now we’ll be good friends and help one another along.”
“Ah, we’ll be friends, sir, good friends too! I’ve had my lesson, and I sha’n’t need another. I’ve acted like a brute up to this, but now I mean to be steady, and I mean to show yer too that I ain’t bad altogether.”
Phil was astonished at the turn matters had taken; but he recognised that Tony had really made up his mind to reform, and at once determined to help him to adhere to that resolution.
“Very well, Tony,” he said, “we’ll enlist together. My month is up to-morrow, and on the following day we’ll take the shilling. I’m going to join the Grenadier Guards.”
“Grenadier Guards or any Guards for me, Phil. It don’t make a ha’poth of difference so far as I’m concerned. Just fix what it’s to be, and I’ll be there with yer.”
“Then it’s settled, Tony. We’re for the Guards. Come to the house where Sergeant-major Williams lives, at nine o’clock the day after to-morrow.”
They shook hands, as though to seal the compact, and separated, Phil returning to the van, where he spent part of the day in writing to Mr
