A Javelin for Jonah

“No!” exclaimed Martin and Hamish in chorus.

“Fact. Had it from Jonah himself, so the lad said.”

“When?” asked Hamish, the conversation he had overheard being fresh in his mind. “When did you hear this?”

“Just a few minutes ago. Jonah told this chap that the Bertha story—which is all round College, by the way— was all my eye, but that it had hurt him to think Gassie believed it, so, in order to resolve the situation (the kid’s words, not mine) Jonah had decided to leave.”

“Does anybody else know?” asked Martin.

“Soon will, anyhow. Well, now, do you chaps think we’d better just look in on Henry and Ma Yale to make sure everything is still all right in the dining-hall before we go off?”

The idea that this was at all necessary tickled Hamish, since Henry possessed apparently hypnotic or occult powers where the management and control of the students was concerned, and Miss Yale was the last person on earth to need assistance with College discipline.

“Oh, I shouldn’t think he’d thank us,” he said. “Bit of an interruption, if he’s already got the film started, wouldn’t you think?”

“I don’t know. There’s a funny feeling abroad,” said Martin,“ and there’ll be whoopee, anyway, once the students know Jonah is going to leave us.”

“If he really is going to leave us,” said Hamish, again remembering the last words he had heard Jones address to the Warden, and the arrogant sound of a loudly-slammed door.

The cross-country run was enjoyable and was completely without incident. When it was over, the three runners, bathed and changed, assembled in Martin’s room to fry the sausages and settle down to consume these and the rest of the feast which he had provided, and the College, intent upon its own tea, appeared to be at peace. The two young women lecturers, with Henry and Barry (who had returned from the hospital), were entertained to buttered scones and cake by Miss Yale and Gascoigne, it was assumed, was taking tea in his own quarters, so that the only person who appeared to be unaccounted for was Jones, although nobody was particularly concerned about this, as he often took tea with Gascoigne before spending the evening at the Bricklayers’ Arms. His name, however, came up as usual.

“I can’t understand Gassie over this Bertha business,” said Lesley. “Hang it all, here he had the chance to get rid of Jonah once and for all, and without a decent testimonial, at that. Instead of kicking him out, he just lets him resign as though he was a decent type like any other of us.”

“So long as he goes, I don’t care how it comes about,” said Celia. “I never got around to telling you what he did to one of my divers. It was the week before Jimmy joined the strength, and I honestly believe that if Jimmy had been with us at the time he would have treated Jonah as one of my girls told me he treated that little swine Kirk at his first French lecture. If Jones—”

“I wish to heaven we could keep Jones out of the conversation,” said Barry. “The very sound of his name makes me feel murderous.”

“Me, too,” said Lesley. “How did you find my two girls? You went to see them, didn’t you?”

“More cheerful than my poor Colin, although how the young idiot could have been such a fool as to let Jones con him into attempting a stupid trick like that, I shall never know.” Barry, to everyone’s embarrassment, blinked back tears.

“I think your two hussies were at fault, too,” said Miss Yale to Lesley. “A trained gymnast should never allow her concentration to be upset when she’s practising.”

“Thank you, I’m sure,” said Lesley angrily. “And I suppose my other hussy should have refused point-blank when she was asked to rake that pit?”

“Now, now,” said Henry. “We’ve no evidence that Jones intended to attract the girl’s attention in the gym, and none that he asked the other girl to do the raking. I know the fellow is a complete liability, but fair’s fair, after all.”

“There was nothing fair about the way he treated Colin,” said Barry, now scowling down at the cream-cake on his plate. “I’ve had it out with him, though. I don’t think he’ll pull any more of his tricks on my squad.”

“Talking of that,” said Celia, “well, I speak as an outside observer, in a way, I suppose, being only on part-time here, but don’t you think perhaps there’s a bit too much of this ‘my squad’ business? I mean,” she went on, for she was a courageous but obtuse young woman, “I think Lesley is far more concerned about those two girls than about Colin, and Barry feels vice versa. Oughtn’t we to think about the College as a whole, so to speak?—if you see what I mean.”

“The difficulty about that,” said Henry, “is that what everybody thinks about, nobody thinks about particularly. Even you, Celia, couldn’t get your diving belles up to the excellent pitch you do, unless you were single-minded about your divers and didn’t give a hoot for Jimmy’s swimmers, for example.”

“Even I give all my attention to the girls,” said Miss Yale, “and don’t give a damn for the men, so I think perhaps Celia has got on to something, in a way. Trouble is, as Henry points out, our standards would soon go down if everybody mucked in at everything. You’ve simply got to specialize, and that involves bias.”

“It’s by playing off squad against squad that we get our results, I suppose,” agreed Lesley. “Our various gangs are much keener on outdoing one another in collecting pots and medals, than they are keen on the College as a whole. Personally, with the types we have to deal with, I’m all for the competitive spirit, although I really am terribly sorry about Colin, Barry, really I am.”

Barry crumpled up the paper serviette which Miss Yale had supplied, thanked her abruptly for the tea and stalked out.

“Somebody has started this rumour that Jones will be leaving us,” said Miss Yale, “but is there really anything in it, do you think?”

“Nothing at all,” said Henry. “I heard it, too, and went straight to Gassie. First he’d heard of it, he said. He was sure it is nothing but a canard. I hope the students aren’t up to some mischief, that’s