Bunter turns the tables

 Billy Bunter, the Fat Owl of the Remove class at Greyfriars School is locked in the punishment room. His form-master Mr. Quelch enters brandishing a cane. “Bend over that chair at once, Bunter!” he commands.

But Bunter has other ideas ….

Here is an extract from a story called Bunter’s Barring-In by Frank Richards that appeared in the Magnet, 19 June 1926. You can read the full story here.

Copies of the Magnet are available on the Friardale website here.

“BEAST!”

Billy Bunter murmured that expressive word as he heard a key turn in the corridor door.
He had breakfasted—a thin and meagre breakfast. From breakfast to the hour of morning break Bunter had work to occupy him. He knew that Mr. Quelch would visit him in break to see how he had progressed. But he had not done any work. His exercises still lay untouched on the table. He was hungry. Having eaten only enough for one, he was naturally famished. Work was out of the question.

Instead of wasting his time on exertion, Bunter was thinking over his deplorable position.
The Head had told him that he might regain his Form master’s good opinion by industry and application; but if Bunter’s release depended on that it looked as if he would remain a prisoner for the rest of his natural life. Industry and application were not in his line. And there seemed no other way—only that impossible way—of softening the stony heart of Mr. Quelch.

The first day of imprisonment had been bad enough, relieved as it had been by visitors under the window and smuggled tuck. What was the second day going to be like, now that Bunter could not even approach the window, and it was impossible for tuck to be smuggled in?

It was awful to contemplate.

Once upon a time there had been a barring-out at Greyfriars, for a cause that seemed serious enough at the time, but which seemed to Bunter much less serious than the present state of affairs. Bunter’s idea was that the Remove ought to rise as one man and demand his release, and institute a barring-out if the head did not accede.

That was what the Remove ought to do. But it was fairly clear that the Remove wouldn’t do as they ought.

They did not see eye to eye with Bunter. They sympathised with a fellow who was up against it, but they knew that Bunter was getting less than he had asked for.

As for a barring-out, Bunter had suggested that to the heroes of the Remove before his incarceration, and had thereby excited loud laughter.

A barring-out on Bunter’ account seemed to tickle the Removites hugely, the bare idea of it. Bunter could not see anything to laugh at in the suggestion. But the other fellows evidently could, for they laughed loud and long at it.

Bunter, reflecting on his position, realised that he had no rescue to expect from the Remove. He had only himself to depend upon, and in the future he saw no hope. Nothing but industry, and applying himself to study, could save him from his punishment. And these resources were too desperate for Bunter even to consider them.

Bunter was, however, growing desperate.

Somehow or other he had to escape, if only to bag one stunning feed before he was recaptured and taken back to durance vile.

As he heard Mr. Quelch’s steps in the corridor without, his little round eyes gleamed behind his spectacles.

He listened to the Remove master taking down the bars from the door of the punishment-room. His breath came thick and fast. Was it possible—was it barely possible—to dodge out of the room when the Form master opened the door?

Suppose he charged right at Mr. Quelch and butted him! That would give him a chance. Such a charge, with Bunter’s weight behind it, would be certain to floor the Form-master, and while he was sorting himself out the Owl of the Remove could flee. It was quite feasible, only—

Bunter had almost resolved upon it when the door was drawn open and Mr. Quelch entered. At the sight of that gentleman Bunter’s fat heart failed him. He realised that he would no more have dared to charge Mr. Quelch and butt him over than he would have ventured to charge a wild tiger in the jungle.

Instead of charging Mr. Quelch he backed away and blinked at him uneasily through his big spectacles.  He noted, with well-founded uneasiness that Mr. Quelch had a cane under his arm.

“Bunter! Are your exercises done?”

“Nunno, sir !“

Mr. Quelch advanced to the table.

“Bless my soul! You have not even touched your work, Bunter !” he exclaimed.

“I—I was just going to begin, sir.”

“I have been too patient with you, Bunter,” said the Remove master grimly. “I had hoped, Bunter, that solitude and meditation would bring you to some sense of your shortcomings. I have been disappointed, Bunter. I shall now cane you for your idleness.”

“Oh, sir !”, gasped Bunter.

Mr. Quelch pointed to the chair with his cane.

“You will bend over that chair, Bunter !”

Bunter breathed hard.

Charging Mr. Quelch over was not to be thought of. But the fat brain of the Owl of the Remove was working at full pressure now. Work and short commons, and imprisonment in the lonely room, and now a caning added thereto! It was more than enough to make Bunter exert his podgy intellect, on its highest gear, so to speak.

Mr. Quelch, standing by the table, was a little distance from the door, which stood open. Bunter breathlessly wondered whether he had time to scuttle away by the open door before the Form master could grasp him.

The Remove master, certainly did not dream that such thoughts, were passing in Bunter’s mind. If he had thought of it he would not have supposed that Bunter would have risked further punishment by a futile flight—for, of course, his pursuit and capture would have been immediate.

But other thoughts, too, were working in Bunter’s brain. Suppose he had time to slam the door on Mr. Quelch!

The thought made him gasp. Certainly no other Greyfriars fellow, howsoever reckless, would have dreamed of shutting up the Form-master in the punishment-room. And Bunter was probably the least reckless member of the Remove. But it was a case of fools rushing in where angels might have feared to tread.

His chief thought was that he had had enough of the punishment-room, and more than enough of short commons.

If he could turn the tables on Mr. Quelch that gentleman would be able to take a turn in the punishment-room himself and see how he liked it. As for the consequences, they could not be helped. Bunter was already about as much up against it as he could be—imprisonment, thin diet, and a caning now due! Matters could not be much worse.

He blinked at Mr. Quelch, gasping for breath, with that amazing scheme in his mind, his heart beating fast.

He had proposed a barring-out to the Remove, and had been laughed at. But what price a barring-in? Barring in Mr. Quelch. and leaving him to stew in his own juice, as it were!
Mr. Quelch gazed at him. He could not understand the expression on Bunter’s excited face.
He made an angry gesture with the cane.

“Do you hear me, Bunter ?” he rapped out.

“Oh, yes, sir !” gasped Bunter.

Was there time for a rush out of the doorway—a hurried slam of the door? Or would the long legs of the Form master cover the space too quickly! Would a grasping hand fall on Bunter shoulder?

“Bend over that chair at once, Bunter!” commanded Mr. Quelch. And he swished the cane.
Bunter’s fat brain was still at full pressure. The brightness of his own intellect in that desperate emergency astonished himself.

Somehow, Mr. Quelch had to be got further away from the door. Once he was on the further side of the table, Bunter considered that he would have time for a sudden rush and a slam.
Bunter approached the chair, and instead of bending over it as directed, he picked it up and tilted it towards the window. The window was on the side of the room opposite the door.
Mr. Quelch stared at him, surprised by his proceeding.

“You need not move the chair, Bunter!  What do you mean? Never mind—now bend over!”
Mr. Quelch followed towards the window.

He was now where Bunter wanted him, so to speak.  Bunter did not bend over the chair. He backed breathlessly round the table, blinking at Mr. Quelch across that article of furniture.

“If — if you please, sir !” he stammered.

“Enough, Bunter! Come here at once!” thundered Mr. Quelch. “How dare you delay and waste my time like this!  Come here at once and bend over this chair!”

Bunter panted.

It was now or never!

Gathering all his resolution, and taking his courage in both hands, as it were, he spun round, and rushed at the doorway.

In a second he was out of the room.

Slam!
Mr. Quelch, for a moment, stood transfixed.  Then he rushed round the table and fairly jumped at the door, grasping the handle. The handle turned, and Mr. Quelch shoved hard at the door.
But as he shoved, there was a sharp metallic clang outside. It was the clang of an iron bar dropping into a stone socket.

Bunter was just in time—with not a second to spare! Mr. Quelch shoved at the door— shoved heart and harder— but he might a well have shoved at the solid old stone walls of Greyfriars. The door was fast; and the Remove master was a prisoner in the punishment-room. The tables were turned, with a vengeance!

 

Picture credit: The Magnet / Amalgamated Press.

 

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