note from the headmaster asking him to call.
After showing him the attendance register and a copy of Dirk's academic
record, the headmaster leaned back in his chair and waited for Sean's
comments.
'Not so good, hey?'
'I agree, Mr. Courtney. Not so good.'
'Couldn't we send him to a boarding establishment somewhere, Mr.
Besant?'
'Yes, you could do that,' Besant agreed dubiously, 'but would it serve
any real purpose-apart from providing him with expert coaching in rugby
football?'
'How else will he get his University entrance?' Sean was impressed
with what higher education had done for Michael. He looked upon it as
a sovereign alchemy for all the ills of youth.
'Mr. Courtney . . . ' The headmaster hesitated delicately.
He had heard of Sean's temper and did not want a personal demonstration
of it. 'Some young men are not really suited for University training.
' 'I want Dirk to go,' Sean interjected.
'I doubt that either Stellenbosch or Cape Town Universities share your
ambitions. ' The schoolroom manner re-asserted itself for a moment,
and Besant spoke with dry sarcasm.
'You mean he's stupid?' Sean demanded.
'No, no. ' Hurriedly Besant soothed him. 'It'sjust that lies not,
shall we say, academically inclined.
Sean pondered on that awhile. It seemed a very nice distinction, but
he let it go and asked: 'Well, what do you suggest?'
Besant's suggestion was that Dirk Courtney get the hell out of his
school-but he phrased it gently.
'Although Dirk is only sixteen-he is very mature for his age. Say you
were to start him at the Wattle Company . . . ?'
'You recommend I take him away from school, then?' Sean asked
thoughtfully, and Besant suppressed a sigh of relief.
Dirk Courtney was apprenticed to the foreman boilermaker at the
factory. His first action was to inform his journeyman that he'd be
running this show one day and what was he going to do about it'? That
gentleman, forewarned by Dirk's reputation, regarded him dolefully,
spat a long squirt of tobacco juice an inch It from Dirk's gleaming
toecap, and replied at some length. He then pointed to a kettle on the
workshop forge and told Dirk to make him a cup of coffee, and while he
was about it to remove his thumb from his posterior orifice. Within a
week the two of them were cronies and the man, whose name was Archibald
Frederick Longworthy, began to instruct Dirk in arts other than the
fabrication of steel plate Archy was thirty-six years old. He had come
out to Africa after completing a five-year term in Leavenworth Prison
for the intriguing offence of Crimen Injuria-and when he explained the
meaning Dirk was delighted.
Archy introduced Dirk to one of his friends, Hazel, a plump and
friendly girl who worked at the Ladyburg Hotel as a barmaid and
dispensed her favours in the same cheerful manner that she did her
liquor-but Dirk quickly became her favourite, and he learned some
