CHAPTER VII.

THE BANNER-BEARER IN TROUBLE.

Shall Jesus bear the cross alone, And all the world go free? No! There's a cross for every one, And there's a cross for me.

ERE Ronald again entered the study, another boy had been there, one who went of his own accord. A rumour had arisen in the school-room that Ronald Macintosh was the boy accused of having been seen fishing in the river, and of having denied the fact. True, the report was not believed by all; but, at the first flash of it, Sir James Dudley had left the school-room, and sought the much-dreaded study of the headmaster. He entered the room, however, unabashed, his head erect, the brown eyes sparkling with indignation.

"Dr. Bowles," he said, "I have come to tell you that you are wrong. Ronald Macintosh never broke a rule of yours; and he never, no never, told a lie. I don't know who did; but I do know he did not. Why, I believe he'd sooner die than say what was not true. You don't know, sir, how good and kind he is, nor all he has done for us little fellows; and—and he loves God, sir, just as my own mother does, and has been trying all he can to make me a true Christian boy also; and I will say, sir, you are wrong in thinking it was him, even if you beat me for saying so."

The brave little heart was giving way when the doctor spoke. "No, Dudley, I will certainly never beat any boy for defending a friend in whom he believes. It grieves me, as much as it does you, to think evil of Ronald. It grieves me more, far more than a little boy like you can understand, for I also thought highly of him; but this much I will tell you, the proof of his guilt cannot be put aside: his fishing rod was found, at least a part of it with his name on it, close by the spot where Mr. Lawson's man saw the boy fishing, and found a trout left behind when the fisher saw him coming and took flight. Had the evidence not been so strong, I would have refused to believe it could have been Ronald Macintosh."

The brown eyes fell, but only for one moment. Again they were raised with a look full of confidence to the master's face.

"But, Dr. Bowles, I saw Ronald when he left the play-ground, and he had no fishing rod in his hand; and he was only an hour away, and he could not have had time to be down by the river and catch a trout there, and be back so soon. No, sir, depend on it, Ronald is not the boy who broke the rule of the school."

Dr. Bowles smiled. "Well, Dudley," he said, "he has at least a brave defender in you, and rest assured I will sift the matter fully, ere the sentence of punishment is pronounced. As to the fact of his having no fishing rod in his hand when he left the school, that carries little weight with it; for I believe he had an accomplice, who probably was out of the bounds ere Ronald left, and who, no doubt, had the rod in his possession. The man declares he saw two boys run away; although he believes only one, and that the biggest of the two, was fishing. It's a sad story altogether. Now go, Dudley, and leave me."

Just then the door opened, and Macintosh entered; and little Dudley, at a sign from the master, left them alone. The anger had passed from the lad's spirit, and he was calm now, as he asked Dr. Bowles to forgive him for the hasty words he had spoken, and for any disrespect he had shown to him. The pardon was granted, as far as that offence went; but the tone in which it was accorded was cold and hard.

"And now, sir," said the master after a pause, "I repeat the accusation already made, of the truth of which I believe I hold the evidence beside me, that you broke the law of the school on Saturday last by fishing in the river for trout, knowing that a severe penalty would be inflicted on any boy so doing; and more, that after having done so, you kept a cowardly silence, when the request was made that the boy or boys (for it is believed you had an accomplice) should stand up and confess the deed. And, still further, to the sin of disobedience you added the greater one of falsehood, by solemnly denying the committal of the deed when the question was separately put to you. Now, sir, what have you to answer to these accusations?"

Ronald's face was crimson with indignation; but he controlled himself to speak calmly.

"I have only one answer to give, and that, as in God's presence, I do give. Dr. Bowles, I am not guilty of any one of the things you bring against me, on what evidence I know not. I never was even near the river on Saturday. I was only one hour out of the school bounds, and then I went in a different direction. So, in the denying it, I was neither a coward nor a liar."

The last word was uttered with difficulty. Dr. Bowles looked steadily at the bold, fearless eyes that met his own. Could they, he was asking himself, belong to one who was acting the part of a hypocrite? And for the first time he was staggered in his belief. Still, what of the fishing rod? Without a word, he produced it.

An unmistakable look of surprise and pain crossed the boy's face as he said, "That is my fishing rod, sir. Did you take it from the shelf in our room?"

"No, Ronald Macintosh," was the stern reply; "it was found by the river-side, dropped by the boy who was fishing there. Your name is on it; and, despite the pain it causes me to say it, I can have no more conclusive evidence that you are the guilty one. Besides, I remember, only too plainly, your refusal to go to London with Mrs. Bowles and me, after you had expressed a strong wish to do so only the night before. Even then your manner struck me as strange; now it is easily accounted for. O Ronald, Ronald! I am sorely disappointed in you," and as he spoke, he leant his head on his hands in sore distress of spirit.

The amount of apparent evidence against him fairly overcame Ronald, as well as his master's grief; but he spoke out. "Dr. Bowles, listen to me one moment, ere you condemn me thus. I see plainly what cause you have to do so. I know not who is guilty in this matter, but I am not. I never took that rod from the place I put it in when I first came here; who took it, I cannot say. I am almost certain it was in its place when I left the house. I did not accompany you to London, much as I wished to do so, because I thought my duty was to remain here."

At these words the master raised his head. "Your duty?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where, then, did you go during the hour that you confess to being absent from bounds?"

"Do you know a solitary cottage, sir, that stands on the part of Mr. Lawson's grounds the farthest off from the village?"

Dr. Bowles nodded assent.

"Well, sir, I went there, intending to read God's Word to a poor woman who is bedridden, to whom I have read before. I had heard she was sorely disappointed at my having missed the previous Saturday, and that was the reason of my refusal to accompany you. I see now I should have told you all; but I feared you might think it was ostentatious of me to do so."

Dr. Bowles's eyes brightened. "You have proof then, that the hour you were out of the play-ground you spent in reading God's Word to a poor woman?"

"I have no proof, sir, if my own word is to be doubted, for I found the cottage door locked, and so had to return home. You know, sir, that cottage is nearly half an hour's walk from here, and as I was back in an hour I could not have had time to read to old Susan."

"Well, but did no one see you at the cottage? Because, if there be evidence that you were seen there, it would be conclusive you were not at the river, as from the points of distance you could not have been both at the cottage and at the river."

"No, sir, I saw no one; though I looked in all directions for little Tommy Fegan, Susan's grandson, who lives with her, I did not see him."

Dr. Bowles's brow darkened. It was strange, he said to himself, that no evidence of the truth of the boy's assertions could be found, whilst the overwhelming evidence of his guilt had been produced. There was but one course open to him, and that was to wait a few days ere pronouncing sentence on the boy and writing a full account of the transaction to Mr. Macleod.

In the meantime, Ronald, except in school hours, was to be separated from the other boys, and the master would make every effort to discover the real truth of the matter. The belief in Ronald's guilt, which had at first possessed him, was shaken; not only by little Dudley's testimony, but by the lad's clear, steady eye, and the truthful character he had hitherto borne. And not altogether in vain had Ronald's steady uplifting of the royal banner proved.

In the school-room, with the exception of two or three, there was but one opinion held on the subject, and that was, that Ronald was innocent; but how the boy suffered during these days none knew, save the God who allowed him to go through such a trial for the purifying of his faith and the chastening of his proud spirit. Closely was he watched by master and tutors during the week, but none could detect any signs of guilt or fear: steadily he went through with his lessons; fearlessly he bent his knee in private prayer, morning and evening.

Yet the day was drawing near when, if no evidence of his innocence appeared, the disgraceful sentence of expulsion from the school would be pronounced against him. During these days, Sir James Dudley spent every spare moment out-of-doors prowling round the spot where the fishing rod had been found, feeling in every place in hopes of finding some trace of the guilty one, but in vain. Dr. Bowles had himself visited the sick woman, and she had confirmed the truth of the boy's story, of his reading to her from time to time; but of that Saturday she could say nothing, except that she knew she had slept most of the afternoon.

Never had the doctor felt more perplexed. If Ronald was innocent, who then was the guilty one? Once more, he publicly appealed to the boys, telling them that the sentence could be no longer put off—the next day he must decide, and implored them, as in God's sight, not to let punishment fall on the innocent.

As he spoke, a short, stifled sob was heard, which most of those who noticed it thought came from Ronald's breast. But Dudley's sharp ears had caught the sound, and knew the sob was not Ronald's: quietly he noticed that it came from a little boy, George Dundas, and as he was known to be the friend of Pritchard, the only boy in the school who bore malice to Macintosh. Dudley knew that sob was from no grief at Ronald's disgrace; and a hope sprung up in the noble boy's heart that he had a clue to the real offender.

After lessons, he sought out Dundas, and, without asking him any questions, spoke of Ronald, how good, and kind, and loving he was; reminding Dundas how he had got him not long before out of a scrape; and then concluded by saying that Ronald, like George himself, was an orphan, with no father and mother to care for him.

"And, maybe," said the boy, "his uncle will be so angry, he will turn him to the door, and poor Ronald will become a wanderer on the face of the earth."

George listened in silence, not condescending to answer one word; but some hours after, he sought the master's study. Once inside it, he broke down, sobbing like a child.

"Dr. Bowles," he said, "I have come to say, I wish to go home—to leave school—I can't be good here. I'm turning worse and worse every day; and my mother, on her death-bed, made me promise that I'd try to be an honourable, truthful boy, and I can't be that here. Please, sir, don't ask me why; but write to my guardian, and ask that I may go home."

Poor George! He, too, like Ronald, was an orphan boy; but, unlike him, he had never sought a strength beyond his own to hold him up; and since coming to Dr. Bowles's, he had got so entirely under the influence of Pritchard, that almost unconsciously he had entered on a downward course.

Dr. Bowles was much amazed. "Why, George," he said, "what is wrong? Why can you not be truthful and honourable here? It is my great desire to render so all the boys under my care."

Then, as if a sudden thought had come into his mind, he said quickly, "Has the story of the fishing anything to do with your distress? George, do you know who is the real culprit?"

No words came; no reply to the question; only loud sobs, as if the boy's heart was breaking.

But in a minute or so, the master caught the words which sent a thrill of joy through him:

"I must not, will not tell. Only, sir, don't send away Macintosh; indeed, indeed, he does not deserve to be punished. He is not guilty—he knows nothing about it; but I must not tell who is. I will not be a tell-tale."

Ere Dr. Bowles could reply, a knock came to the door; and little Dudley entered, followed by a tall young man in the dress of a peasant. The brown eyes danced with a look of joy and triumph, such as they had not worn for many a day.

In a few words his story was told. Prowling about by the side of the river, as he had so often done lately, that morning he had met the young lad who was now with him, and who had asked him:

"Be you one o' the lads that live in the school yonder?"

He had answered, "Yes."

Then said his questioner, "Canst tell if the lad wi' the scar on his face, that was fishing here last Saturday, caught any fish?"

At these words Dudley had sprung up, and eagerly asked for an explanation.

"You see," said the young man, "I was comin' along that day to see a friend on the other side o' the river, and was meanin' to cross at the bridge farther down, when a good-looking lad wi' a mark on his face comed up to me, and asked if I belonged to these parts."

"And when I said, 'No; I comed from a farm a good bit off,' he says, 'All right then; I may ask you: I'm going to fish hereabouts, and I've got a new rod, but the tackle's got all wrong—would you lend me a hand to put it to rights?'"

"So I says that I will; and we sorts it all, and I left him a-fishing. And I guessed he was one o' the scholards in the big school; and so I just wanted to know if he had caught many fish."

"So," said Dudley, addressing the master, "I brought him right off to you, sir; for he says he can tell in a minute what boy he spoke to; and, sir, you know there is only one in the school has a mark, and that's Pritchard. And," said Dudley, unable to suppress his delight, "I knew it wasn't Macintosh—it could not have been."

The matter was soon settled; the moment Pritchard saw the lad enter the school-room, he broke down and confessed all. He was the guilty one; but he had not intended, in taking the rod, to implicate Ronald. He took it because it was the only one he could lay his hands on; and fear and cowardice together made him silent when he found that the transaction was discovered, and the guilty one called on to declare himself.

When the truth was discovered, the feeling of the boys was without exception one of gladness that Ronald was proved innocent. We need not add that Pritchard was sent home; such an example could not be tolerated. And from that day George Dundas spoke no more of leaving the school. The lesson he had received was a salutary one for him. It was he who was the second boy whom Mr. Lawson's man had seen running off across the field. But though George knew that Pritchard was the offender, he had taken no part in the transaction, and knew nothing of Ronald's rod having been made use of. He only saw Pritchard fishing, as he was strolling past from another field.

But taking in the story at a glance, when he saw the man coming down the river from the other side, and Pritchard throw down the rod and make for the school, George had run also, afraid of being caught and suspected of trespassing. Fear of Pritchard had kept him silent when Dr. Bowles had spoken.

And what of Ronald? He had suffered much during these days, and learned some needful lessons; but calmly at last he had committed his way unto the Lord; and now it was with a heart full of gratitude unto him that he returned thanks that his character was cleared, and that the royal banner he upheld had not, through his sin, been disgraced. His influence in the school from that hour became stronger; and more than one boy was led openly to take his stand on the Lord's side, fight under his banner, and seek for that which is better than gold, and more to be desired than rubies.