THE CROWD ROARED "GOAL! GOOD OLD SMITHY!"
JUST LIKE
BUNTER
By
FRANK RICHARDS
Illustrated by
C.H. CHAPMAN
CASSELL AND COMPANY LTD
LONDON
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
1NO BUNK FOR BUNTER
2MESSAGE FOR QUELCH
3TROUBLE FOR TWO
4BLUE STREAK
5NO CATCH
6ONCE TOO OFTEN
7BUNTER'S IMPOT
8THE CHOPPER COMES DOWN
9FALLEN FORTUNES
10BUNTER WITH THE NEWS
11TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE
12ALAS FOR BUNTER
13STOP!
14WHERE IS SMITHY?
15THE END?
16AFTER LIGHTS OUT
17THE ONLY WAY
18PARTED PALS
19'PLACED!'
20ANOTHER SPOT OF LATIN FOR QUELCH
21DOUBLE OR QUITS
22 THIRD TIME LUCKY?
23 DOWN AND OUT
24 A LOYAL PAL
25 LOSER PAYS?
26 SHOCK FOR SMITHY
27 No BIKE FOR BUNTER
28 TOO LATE?
29 JUST LIKE BUNTER
30 SILENCE!
31 A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION
32 ON THE BRINK
33 EXIT SMITHY
34 THE LAST CHANCE
35 AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR
36 'ADSUM!'
37 BAD LUCK FOR BUNTER
CHAPTER 1
NO BUNK FOR BUNTER
BUMP!
'Wow!'
'Ha, ha, ha!'
From Billy Bunter's point of view, it was not a laughing matter. A fellow who tumbled off a window-sill, and landed on the cold, unsympathetic earth with a heavy bump, could hardly be expected to see the comic side of the incident.
But it seemed to amuse Harry Wharton and Co. They came on Bunter quite unexpectedly.
In morning break any fellow who wanted to see Bunter-which few fellows did-would naturally have looked for him in the tuck-shop. Nobody, certainly, would have expected to see him, or hear him, tumbling off the sill of Mr. Quelch's study window.
But that was what the Famous Five saw and heard. It evoked a pained howl from Billy Bunter, and a ripple of merriment from the chums of the Remove.
That window was fairly high from the ground. But any Remove man, excepting Bunter, could have negotiated it. Bunter had more weight to lift than most fellows. He had succeeded in lifting it till he had a fat knee on the sill.
Then he had tumbled.
'Wow! Oh, crikey! Wow!' spluttered Bunter, as he sat.
'Do that again, Bunter!' suggested Bob Cherry.
'Ha, ha, ha!'
Billy Bunter clambered to his feet. He blinked at the high window-sill through his big spectacles.
But he did not seem disposed to 'do it again' as Bob suggested. One bump on the earth was enough for Bunter. He did not seem, like Antaeus of old, to derive new energy from his contact with the earth. It was a winded and breathless Owl.
'I say, you fellows, give a chap a bunk up!' he gasped. 'That beastly window's too high for me. It's all right-Quelch ain't in his study now.'
'We could guess that one,' said Harry Wharton. 'But what the dickens are you trying to get into his study for?'
'Nothing to eat in Quelch's study, is there?' asked Frank Nugent.
'Ha, ha, ha!'
'You can cackle!' yapped Bunter. 'But I'm jolly well going to show him. Quelch is a beast, and I'm jolly well going to tell him so.'
'Eh!'
'What?'
'Not to his face, of course,' explained Bunter. 'You can't tell a beak what you think of him to his face. I don't want to be whopped. I'm going to leave it on his study table for him to see when he comes in. You heard him ragging me in form this morning. He said my spelling was grotacious-'
'Quelch said grotesque!' remarked Johnny Bull.
'I don't care whether he said grotesque or grotacious. I could spell his head off, and chance it. He said I couldn't write the simplest sentence in Latin without a mistake-'
'So you couldn't!' said Johnny.
'Couldn't I?' jeered Bunter. 'What about this, then?
"Magister noster bestia est". Is that Latin, or isn't it? Does it mean "Our master is a beast", or doesn't it?'
'Oh, my hat!'
'That's what I'm going to write, for Quelch to read!' grinned Bunter. 'Think it will make him sit up? What? He, he, he! Now one of you give me a bunk up at that window. I want to get through before Quelch comes in.'
But no member of the Famous Five made a move to give the fat Owl the required 'bunk'. They gazed at him almost in horror. That such a message left on Mr. Quelch's table to meet his eyes when he came to his study, would make him 'sit up', as Bunter expressed it, there could be no doubt. Neither could there be any doubt that such impertinence would rouse his deepest ire-with dire results for the perpetrator thereof.
'You howling ass!' exclaimed Bob Cherry. 'If Quelch found that on his table, he would skin you.'
'The skinfulness would be terrific my esteemed and idiotic Bunter,' said Hurree Jamset Ram Singh.
'How'd he know it was me?' grinned Bunter. 'I'm not going to write it in my own fist, of course. I'm going to write it in capital letters. I'm jolly well going to let him know whether I can write a sentence in Latin. But he ain't going to know it was me. Magister noster bestia est! He, he, he! Fancy his face when he reads that! He, he, he!'
Harry Wharton and Co. could quite easily fancy Quelch’s face when he read such a message. That countenance, always a little severe, was likely to assume an expression like unto that of Rhadamanthus at his most rhadamanthine. Even Smithy, the most reckless fellow in the Remove, would hardly have ventured on such a prank. But Billy Bunter seemed to have no doubts. It was a case of fools rushing in where angels feared to tread!
'For goodness sake, Bunter, don't be such a dithering ass!' said Harry Wharton. 'You can't cheek your form-master like that.'
'Wash it out, fathead!' said Johnny Bull.
'Forget it!' said Bob Cherry.
'I'll watch it!' said Bunter. 'Safe as houses! How's he to know who wrote it in capital letters? I'll jolly well show him!'
Billy Bunter, evidently, had made up his fat mind. He was going to 'show' Quelch: though certainly he was not going to let the Remove master learn who was the author of that simple sentence in Latin. All Quelch would know was that some fellow in his form had told him-in Latin-that he was a beast! He had all the Remove to pick and choose from, if he wanted to find out who had done it. Capital letters left no clue!
'Look here, Bunter, you fat duffer-!' said Frank Nugent.
'You're wasting time!' interrupted Bunter. 'Give me a bunk up to that window before somebody comes along.'
'Fathead! '
'Ass!'
'Chuck it!'
'Will you give me a bunk up, or not?' hooted Bunter.
'Not!' answered the Famous Five, with one voice.
'Beasts!'
Billy Bunter turned a fat back on the five. He blinked dubiously at the high sill. Then he clutched at it with fat hands. Undoubtedly the fat Owl was in need of a 'bunk'. But no 'bunk' being available, he was going to manage without it-if he could. Slowly, very slowly, he heaved up his uncommon weight, the Famous Five watching him.
'Stop, you ass!'
'Chuck it, you ditherer.'
Billy Bunter did not heed that good advice. Neither did he make any reply. He had no breath for replying. Breath was always in short supply with Bunter, and he needed all he had for that clamber. He gasped, he gurgled he puffed and he blew: but this time he did not tumble. With a tremendous effort, he landed his fat chest on the window-sill. There he had to pause to pump in breath. It did not occur to Bunter that he was, at the moment, remarkably well placed for a smack on the plumpest trousers at Greyfriars School. But it occurred to Bob Cherry.
Smack!
'Yarooooooh!'
Bump!
Once more, Billy Bunter landed on the unsympathetic earth. He sat there and roared. And the Famous Five, laughing, resumed their trot round the quadrangle, leaving him to roar.
CHAPTER 2
MESSAGE FOR QUELCH
'SMITHY, old chap-'
'Rats!'
'Look here. Smithy-'
'Didn't you hear me say rats?'
Billy Bunter blinked at two Remove fellows coming along by the study windows. Herbert Vernon-Smith and Tom Redwing. They seemed to be engaged in a not very amicable argument. Smithy and Redwing were great pals; but there were many matters on which they did not see eye to eye. One of those matters, apparently, was now under discussion, for Redwing's face was troubled and a little angry, and the Bounder's wore a sardonic sneer. What they might be disputing about. Billy Bunter did not know, and couldn't have cared less. That was of no importance. What was important was a 'bunk' for Bunter up to Quelch's study window.
The fat Owl had resumed the perpendicular. But he had not resumed his efforts to climb in at that window. He was keen-as keen as ever-on telling Quelch-in Latin-that he was a beast, and leaving him to wonder who had told him so. But he was too winded for another struggle with the Law of Gravitation. So Smithy and Redwing had come along just in time. Tom Redwing was no more likely than Harry Wharton and Co. to lend aid in such a prank. But Smithy was just the man for it. Anything that was up against authority found favour in the eyes of the Bounder of Greyfriars.
'I say, Smithy!' squeaked Bunter. Vernon-Smith glanced round at him
'Gimme a bunk up to that window, will you, Smithy?'
'Quelch's window!' exclaimed the Bounder. 'What the thump do you want in Quelch's study?'
'It's a jape on Quelch-'
'Oh, all right, then.'
Tom Redwing caught the Bounder by the arm.
'Don't be an ass, Smithy,' he exclaimed. 'That fat chump will land himself in a row with Quelch if he plays tricks in his study.'
'You shut up, Redwing,' hooted Bunter. 'Smithy can do as he likes without asking you. You gimme a bunk up, Smithy! I'm going to make Quelch sit up for ragging me in form.'
'Come on, Smithy, and don't play the goat,' said Redwing.
'Don't you let him order you about, Smithy! You gimme a bunk up to that window!' squeaked Bunter.
Vernon-Smith shook off Redwing's detaining hand.
The mere hint of being 'ordered about' was enough for the arrogant Bounder. Nobody was going to stop him from doing exactly as he pleased. .
'Get on with it, Bunter,' he said.
'Look here, Smithy-!'
'Oh, pack it up! Go it, Bunter.'
Billy Bunter 'went it' at once. Fat hands clutched at the window-sill again, and Vernon-Smith administered the required 'bunk'. Smith was a muscular fellow, as good at games as any junior at Greyfriars. But he did not find 'bunking' the fat Owl an easy proposition. Bunter clambered, and Smithy pushed and heaved, and gasped for breath.
'Oh, scissors!' he gasped. 'Does he weigh a ton, or a ton and a half? Lend a hand here, Reddy.'
'Not to help that fat chump into a row with Quelch!' answered Redwing.
'Go and eat coke, then,' snapped the Bounder.
He pushed and shoved again at the fattest member of the Greyfriars Remove. Up went Bunter.
A fat head disappeared inside the open window. A fat figure wriggled in after it. Two little fat legs whisked in the air.
Then Billy Bunter plunged in.
His plunge was followed by a bump and a howl.
'Ow! wow! ow!'
Bunter was inside the study now. He seemed to have landed there in a heap.
'Ow! Oh, crikey! Wow-ow!'
The Bounder burst into a laugh, and walked away with Redwing. Billy Bunter was left to his own devices in his form-master's study.
He picked himself up, gurgling for breath. But he did not lose time. Bunter was seldom rapid in his motions: but there was need for haste. Morning break was brief, and Quelch was very likely to come to his study before third school. The fat Owl had no time to lose. The bare thought of being caught there by Quelch was unnerving.
He rolled gasping to the study table.
On that table, among various books and papers, lay a block of foolscap. It was just what Bunter wanted. Hurriedly he picked up Mr. Quelch's pen, and proceeded to indite that simple sentence in Latin, in large capital letters, on the top sheet of foolscap.
'He, he, he!' chuckled Bunter, as he blinked through his big spectacles at what he had written. 'That'll show him! He, he, he!'
Probably it would have made any other Greyfriars fellow chuckle! For what the fat Owl had written was-
MAGGISTER NOSTER BESTIA EST!
Billy Bunter was sure that he had the Latin right. He was equally sure of the spelling. Bunter was satisfied with his own orthography, if his form-master was not.
Happily unaware that in the spelling of the word 'magisster' he had left an inevitable and unmistakable clue to the identity of the writer, the fat Owl rolled back to the window. The bell for third school was beginning to ring, as he dropped into the quad. Grinning, Billy Bunter rolled away to join the crowd of Removites heading for their form-room. For once, Mr. Quelch, generally the soul of punctuality, was not on time to let his form in.
'Henry's late!' remarked Bob Cherry.
'He, he, he!' from Bunter. 'I say, you fellows, perhaps he's found something in his study. He, he, he!'
'Oh! you fat ass-Did you-?'
'Didn't I just!' grinned Bunter. 'You fellows wouldn't give me a bunk, but Smithy did, and I jolly well left that note for Quelch on his table! Magister noster bestia est! He, he, he! I expect Quelch is reading it now! Think he'll like it? He, he he!'
'Hallo, hallo, hallo, here he comes!' murmured Bob. 'He looks shirty.'
'He, he, he!'
There was no doubt that Quelch looked 'shirty'. He had a sheet of foolscap clutched in one hand, and thunder on his brow. But Billy Bunter was not alarmed, He expected Quelch to look 'shirty' after reading that impertinent message from a member of his form. The shirtier he looked, in fact, the more Billy Bunter was amused. Billy Bunter was still grinning happily as he rolled into the Remove form-room.
CHAPTER 3
TROUBLE FOR TWO
'BUNTER!'
Billy Bunter jumped.
Mr: Quelch was standing, with a deeply frowning brow, surveying his form with a glint in the gimlet-eyes. Obviously, a storm was about to break. For a few moments, there was a dead silence, and a pin might have been heard to drop. Then suddenly and sharply, Quelch rapped out Bunter's name.
Why, Billy Bunter didn't know and couldn't guess. If Quelch wanted to know who had left that message in his study, he had a numerous form to choose from. Quelch couldn't know a thing. Yet he rapped out Bunter's name just as if he knew! '
'Oh!' gasped Bunter. 'Yes, sir? It wasn't me, sir.'
The gimlet-eyes fixed on a fat alarmed face.
'What was not you, Bunter?' inquired Mr. Quelch, in a voice resembling the grinding of a very rusty saw.
'Oh! Nothing, sir!' stuttered Bunter. 'I-I-I mean-nothing, sir! Nothing at all, sir.'
'Did you enter my study during break, Bunter?'
Harry Wharton and Co. exchanged glances. Evidently, the fat and fatuous Owl had left a clue of some sort-which was just like Bunter.
'Answer me, Bunter!'
'I-I-I-no, sir!' gasped Bunter. Truth and Bunter had been strangers too long, to become acquainted at a moment like this! '1-1-1 never went anywhere near your study window, sir.'
'Some boy in this form: said Mr. Quelch, in a deep voice, 'entered my study surreptitiously during break, and left an impertinent message on my table. Was it you, Bunter?'
'Oh, no, sir! I-I wouldn't do anything syrupstitious, sir!' groaned Bunter, 'I-I never was syrupstitious, sir.'
'I have little doubt, Bunter, that you were the offender.
I do not think that any other boy in my form would spell a simple Latin word in so absurd a manner. Did you write this, Bunter?'
Mr. Quelch held up the sheet of foolscap. All eyes in the Remove fixed on it. There was a general grin as they read:
MAGGISTER NOSTER BESTIA EST!
'Just like Bunter!' murmured Bob Cherry.
'Just!' murmured Harry Wharton.
Billy Bunter blinked through his big spectacles at that sentence. Quelch, apparently, was making out that there was something wrong with the spelling, and regarded it as a clue to Bunter! So far as Billy Bunter could see, there was nothing amiss with the spelling.
'Bunter!'
'Oh, lor'! I-I mean, yes, sir.'
'Spell the Latin word "magister" at once.'
Billy Bunter brightened up at that. If that was all that Quelch wanted, the fat Owl was ready and willing to oblige. 'Certainly, sir! M-A-double-G-I-S-T-E-R!' spelt out Bunter, cheerily.
'Ha, ha, ha!' came from some of the Remove fellows. 'Silence in the form! Bunter, your spelling, whether in English or in Latin, is a disgrace to this Form!'
'Oh, really, sir!' gasped Bunter, 'Is-is-isn't that right, sir?'
'No other boy in my Form would ask that question, Bunter. It appears that you are not aware that there is only one G in the word "magister".
'Oh, crikey!'
'I conclude, Bunter, that it was you who wrote thisimpertinent message. You entered my study surreptitiously by the window-'