Six for Sleake the sneak
Unhappily, wishing from the bottom of his heart that he hadn’t come to Charne’s study with a tale to tell, Sleake bent over the chair. The cane rose and fell rhythmically, and dust scattered from his trousers. – Extracted from Six For Sleake, by Frank Richards, Raymond Glendenning Book of Sport 1958. Available to download free-of-charge here.
Sleake was a quite unpleasant member of the fourth form at
Felgate. He was a fellow who loafed about with his hands in his pockets while
other fellows played cricket, who dodged games practice whenever he could, and
smoked himself green in obscure corners. It was Sleake who informed Pook, a
Sixth-Form prefect, that it was Bullinger who had introduced gum into the
inkpot in his study. Result: a painful contact between a prefect’s cane and
Bullinger’s trousers.
One afternoon Sleake visits Mr. Charne, the Form-master in
his study.
Now read on ...
“Well?”
Charne rapped out that monosyllable. He had no high
opinion of Sleake and he was not pleased to see him come into his study. So he
rapped.
“If you please, sir!” began Sleake.
“Well?”
“I think you ought to know, sir that a whole crowd
went out the gates this afternoon, while you were away, and played cricket at
Dolcot and –”
“Stop!”
Sleake stopped.
Charne looked at him. There was thunder in his brow.
Judging by his look, the rebels were going to have the time of their lives, now
that Charne knew. Whops all round, detentions for half-holidays, perhaps going
up to the Head! The blacker grew Charne’s brow, the more Sleake inwardly
rejoiced.
There was a long pause, while Charne’s pin-point eyes
almost bored into Sleake. Obviously, he was very angry. He spoke at last: and
his voice was very deep.
“If this had come to my knowledge from any other
source, the most severe punishment would have been awarded for such disregard
of my authority in my form. But as I cannot act on information received from a
tale-bearer, I have no choice now but to pass the matter over. I cannot,
however, pass over your act of coming here, Sleake, and informing on your form-fellows.
You must learn, Sleake, that tale-bearing is a despicable thing, not by any
means good enough for Felgate. I shall, at all events, endeavour to impress
that on your mind.”
Charne rose to his feet and picked up is cane.
Sleake stared at him – almost goggled at him. Pook had
acted on “information received” and he had not doubted that Charne would do the
same. Charne’s views, however, seemed quite different from Pook’s. Charne was
angry, very angry: but it dawned on Sleake now that he was the chief object of
it! Charne pointed to a chair with the
cane.
“Bend over that chair, Sleake.”
“But – but – I – I !” stammered Sleake.
Then the thunder rolled.
“BEND OVER!”
Unhappily, wishing from the bottom of his heart that
he hadn’t come to Charne’s study with a tale to tell, Sleake bent over the
chair. The cane rose and fell rhythmically, and dust scattered from his
trousers.
Whop! whop! whop! whop! whop! whop!
It was a full “six”. All the Felgate Fourth knew that
Charne could whop: but Sleake had never realised it so thoroughly as now. He
was squirming like a worm when it was over.
Charne pointed to the door with the cane.
“Go!”
Sleake went – squirming.
Additional picture credit: Sting Pictures
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