William The Outlaw Read Free Page B

them questions and got angry because they didn’t know the answers. He asked them what he’d said about things and got angry because they’d forgotten. He
strode about the hilltop pointing out rocks with his stick and talking about them in a loud, ferocious voice. He made them follow him wherever he went, and got angry because they didn’t
follow nimbly enough. So terrifying was he that they daren’t even try to run away. It was like a nightmare. It was far worse than Geometry. And it seemed to last for hours and hours and
hours. Actually it lasted an hour. At the end the man became more angry than ever, said that it was an insult to have asked him to come over to address four half-witted guttersnipes and muttering
ferociously stalked off again down the hillside.
    The Outlaws sat down weakly on the ground around the little heap of black twigs and dead leaves which marked the scene of William’s failure as a fire-maker and held their heads.
    ‘Crumbs!’ moaned William, and Ginger mournfully echoed, ‘Crumbs!’
    ‘Well, anyway, he’s gone,’ said Henry trying to look on the bright side.
    But it wasn’t really easy to look on the bright side. The Outlaws were feeling very hungry and there wasn’t anything to eat. Ringers’ Hill had lost its charm. They’d had
a rotten time there – not a bit the sort of time they’d always imagined Outlaws having. And the sun had suddenly gone behind a cloud. It was cold and dark. They were hungry and fed
up.
    ‘Wonder what time it is,’ said Henry casually.
    As if in answer the clock of the village church struck in the valley, One – Two – Three – Four – Five. Five o’clock. Tea-time. Into each mind flashed a picture of a
cheerful dining-room with a table laid for tea.
    ‘Well,’ said William with an unconvincing attempt at cheerfulness, ‘we’d better be getting something to eat. We might have had a rabbit if Henry’d caught one.
Let’s have a go at the blackberries.’
    ‘There aren’t any ripe ones,’ said Douglas, ‘and the others make you feel awful inside after you’ve eaten a few.’
    Then suddenly to their secret relief Henry rose and said bluntly, ‘I want my tea and I’m sick of being an Outlaw. I’m going home.’
    On the road they met Brown and Smith. Brown and Smith were swinging happily along the road carrying fishing-rods and jars of minnows.
    ‘I say, we’ve had a topping time,’ they called. ‘Have you? But you were rotters not to have told us.’
    ‘Told you what?’ said the Outlaws.
    ‘That there was going to be a half-holiday.’
    ‘ What? ’ said the Outlaws.
    ‘They sent us all away as soon as we got there. Said they’d forgotten to give it out in the morning. We were jolly surprised to meet you going away from school, but when we got there
we knew why but we thought you jolly well might have told us.’
    ‘Why was there a half-holiday?’ gasped William.
    ‘Oh, some old josser or something coming to give some old jaw or other to some old society or other,’ said Smith vaguely, ‘but we’ve had a topping afternoon, have
you?’
    In bitter silence the Outlaws walked on. They hadn’t had a topping afternoon. At the end of the road a prefect was putting a letter into a pillar-box. Another prefect stood by.
    ‘What was it like?’ said the one who stood by.
    ‘He never turned up,’ said the one who’d just posted the letter. The Outlaws slowed their pace to listen.
    ‘We’d arranged to meet him on Ringers’ Hill. The Head and everyone was there. We’d never been to Ringers’ Hill before but there was a signpost up so we
couldn’t have gone wrong. We waited three-quarters of an hour and he never turned up. It’s sickening. I’ve just posted a letter from the Head telling him that we went there and
waited three-quarters of an hour. I suppose he was kept somewhere. He might have let us know, but some of those professors are beastly absent-minded. We were looking forward to it awfully, because
it