



Produced by Al Haines.





                               THE GAYTON
                              SCHOLARSHIP

                            _A SCHOOL STORY_


                                   BY

                             HERBERT HAYENS

      Author of "At the Point of the Sword," "An Emperor's Doom,"
                "Clevely Sahib," "Under the Lone Star,"
                                &c. &c.



                         THOMAS NELSON AND SONS
                   _London, Edinburgh, and New York_
                                  1904




                              *CONTENTS.*

      I. THE DEANERY CANDIDATES
     II. THE CHALLENGE SHIELD
    III. A NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH
     IV. FURTHER NEWS OF THE "MORNING STAR"
      V. JIM STARTS WORK
     VI. THE EXAMINATION
    VII. "IT'S ALL MY FAULT"
   VIII. "DID I SAVE HIM?"
     IX. THE RESULT OF THE EXAMINATION
      X. GOING DOWN HILL
     XI. IS JIM A THIEF?
    XII. WHERE IS THE MISSING MONEY?
   XIII. AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE
    XIV. CURLY AND COMPANY
     XV. "WHEN THIEVES FALL OUT"
    XVI. A FRESH START
   XVII. A STARTLING SURPRISE




                       *THE GAYTON SCHOLARSHIP.*



                              *CHAPTER I.*

                       *THE DEANERY CANDIDATES.*


"Good-morning, Mrs. Hartland.  Isn't Jim ready?  All right; I'll wait
for him.  Do you think Susie would care for these wild flowers and
grasses?  I picked them this morning.  Rover and I have been for a
splendid run over the common, nearly as far as the forest."

"Thanks, Dick," said Mrs. Hartland, with a pleased smile; "Susie will be
delighted with them.  Poor girl! it's little chance she has to see them
growing herself.  What a pretty white dog-rose!"

"Isn't it a beauty?  I thought Susie would like that.--Hullo, Jim!" as
his chum appeared from an inner room; "come on, old lazy-bones.  I
expected to find you in a tremendous hurry this morning.--Good-bye, Mrs.
Hartland; I hope Susie will be pleased with the flowers."

Most people liked Dick Boden.  He was a comical youngster, fond of all
kinds of fun and frolic, and always keeping an eye on the bright side of
things. In school he was a regular pickle, and yet his teachers spoke
well of him, for there was nothing mean about Dick, and he was as honest
as the day.

"Full of animal spirits and a trifle impetuous, but a good little chap
at bottom," said Mr. Holmore, the head-master of the Deanery School.

He was a round-faced, curly-haired fellow, with laughing blue eyes, a
most engaging smile, and such an innocent expression that a lady artist
once painted his portrait as a study of an angel.  This greatly amused
the Deaneryites, who promptly dubbed him the Angel.

Of course he was very popular with his school-fellows, but his one
particular chum was Jim Hartland, a sailor's son, and one of the head
boys in the school.

"Grinding for the exam.?" he asked, as they waved a last adieu to Mrs.
Hartland, who stood on the doorstep watching them as they went down the
street.

"Hardly," said Jim, "until we know who are to be the candidates."

"Oh, you'll be one for certain, and Perce Braithwaite another."

"And you."

"If Holmore gives me the chance, I'll work like a <DW65> for the honour
of the school.  The scholarship wouldn't be any good to me though; it
only pays for the fees and books, and you have to stay till you are
sixteen.  Mother couldn't afford to keep me at school as long as that."

There was at this time great excitement among the boys of the elementary
schools in the seaport town of Beauleigh.  The governors of Gayton
Public School had offered a scholarship, to be competed for by three
selected candidates from every school in the town, and the offer had
produced a feeling of intense rivalry.

The names of the chosen boys from the Deanery were to be made known that
morning, and every one was on the tiptoe of expectation.

"We're late," said Dick, as the two boys turned into the long, straight
road leading to the school, "most of the fellows are in the playground.
I'll race you to the gate.  Ready?  One, two, three--off!" and away they
sped for a good two hundred yards' run.

Jim was the taller and stronger, but Dick was very nimble, and having
got the lead, he kept it. On they went, flushed, panting, and straining
every nerve, while a group of boys coming from the opposite direction
encouraged them with loud cries.

"Keep it up, Angel!"

"Another spurt, Jim; he's nearly done!"

Dick's legs were getting tottery, and Jim was close on his shoulder, but
the open gate was only ten yards off, and the plucky youngster pulled
himself together for a last effort.

"Jim's got him!" "No, no; the Angel wins! the Angel wins!"

A yard from the gate they were neck and neck; but then, using up all his
remaining strength, Dick flung himself forward--the winner by scarcely
half a foot.

Unlucky Dick!  In the excitement of the last half-second he had gone
like stone from catapult straight against the vest pocket of a portly
gentleman who was strolling leisurely across the playground to the gate.
Jim's onset completed the mischief, and the three rolled together on the
ground.

The boys in the road, unable to see the catastrophe, ran up with a brisk
"hurrah."  But suddenly every tongue was still.

If you have ever felt the shock of an earthquake, or been shipwrecked,
or in a railway collision, you will have some faint idea of the fright
which held the handful of Deanery boys spellbound.

"The inspector!" whispered Tompkins in a tone of awe, and a shiver ran
through the little crowd.

Then, as the gentleman and boys rose to their feet, Tompkins, with an
imbecile kind of smile, said, "Please, sir, it's only the Angel!"

Only the Angel!  Had His Majesty's Inspector been a Deanery boy he would
not have required any further information.  As it was, the look of
surprise in his face deepened.

Now Dick, with all his faults, was a little gentleman.  His face was
white and his voice husky, but, standing cap in hand, he said bravely,
"I am very sorry, sir.  We were racing, and Jim Hartland had almost
caught me, so I put on a last sprint, and--"

"And won?"

"Yes, sir," answered Dick modestly; "but Jim was close behind."

"Yes," observed the gentleman with a grim smile, "I am painfully aware
of the fact.  However, there is not much harm done.  Ask your master to
lend me a brush."

"Isn't he a brick?" said one of the boys as they ran to their places.
"He didn't even look angry. Have you hurt your leg, Jim?"

"It's a bit painful--that's all."

"I hope it will be right for the match to-morrow."  And then, at sound
of the bell, all talking stopped, and the boys marched into the assembly
hall.

After prayers, the inspector, looking none the worse for his mishap,
came into the room and talked with Mr. Holmore, who then proceeded to
make a little speech concerning the Gayton Scholarship.

"You know," he said, "that only one boy can win it, and there will be
candidates from nearly every school in the town.  We have three good
champions, and whether they obtain the great honour for the Deanery or
not, I am sure they will do their best.  Come to the desk as I call your
names.  Richard Boden."

There was a hum of pleasure as Dick went up, flushed with joy, yet
feeling rather uncomfortable at having to face the inspector a second
time that morning.

"Percy Braithwaite."

A well-dressed, spruce-looking boy, known as Dandy Braithwaite, came
forward with alacrity and, to the delight of the school, was followed by
James Hartland.

"Now, boys," said their master, "I hope your work will show we have made
a wise selection. Remember, once your names are given in, we cannot make
any alteration."  Then turning to the inspector, he added, "These are
our candidates, sir."

"Ah," exclaimed that gentleman genially, "I have made the acquaintance
of two of them, Mr. Holmore, and I can assure you they are tremendous
fellows--at a sprint.--Well, my lads, one thing is certain: this
scholarship won't be gained without plenty of hard work.  The chosen
knights are buckling on their armour in every quarter of the town, and
the tournament will be a keen one."

Fortunately, school closed at noon for the day, as the boys were too
excited to pay much attention to lessons.  They were well satisfied with
their master's selection, and many of them at once put down the
scholarship as a "good thing" for Jim Hartland.

Some thought Braithwaite might get it, others pinned their faith to Dick
Boden, "if the little beggar would work;" and when one wretched urchin
hinted that the St. Paul's boys had won a lot of prizes lately, he was
promptly "sat on."

"It's bound to come to the Deanery," declared Tompkins, who was himself
still struggling with the mysteries of long division.  "The only
question is, Who's to get it?"

Then the talk turned to the great cricket match fixed for the next day,
which was to decide the possession of the challenge shield for the
following year. St. Paul's held it, but the Deanery intended having a
good try to wrest it from their near and dear rivals.

"Hartland's in fine form," said one.  "You should have seen him hit at
practice yesterday.  If he comes off we ought to stand a chance."

"And the Angel's bowling a treat!  I don't think the 'Magpies'" (as the
St. Paul's boys were called) "will do much with his curly ones."

"He bowled the inspector out before school, didn't he?"

They were still laughing at the recollection of Dick's mishap when
Simpson, the reserve man of the team, came up, trying, but with poor
success, to look sorry.

"Heard the news, you fellows?" he asked.  "Hartland's cricked his leg
and won't be able to play."

The boys gazed at one another blankly, hoping against hope that the news
was not true.

"There he is," cried one suddenly; and sure enough there he was, leaning
on his chum's arm, and hobbling slowly across the playground.

They crowded around him eagerly, asking more questions than could be
answered in a week.

"What's the matter, Jim?"

"Can't you play?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Hurt!" cried Dick scornfully.  "Of course not! He is doing this just
for fun, you silly duffers."

"It isn't much," exclaimed Jim, "and I'll play to-morrow if I can stand.
We'll have that shield yet."

"Anyhow," said Dick, with a laugh, "if Jim can't turn