Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

Billy Bunter’s Benefit
By Frank Richards
“I mean, you ain’t particular, like I am,” said Bunter, blinking at him. “You
don’t feel about it like a decent chap would, of course, old fellow.”
The Bounder gazed at him.
“So I want you to do it for me,” Bunter rattled on. “Mind, I’ve got the
quid—I ain’t asking you to lend it to me. I can’t go to a low hole like that
to see a blighter like Banks, but you can, old chap! Will you put it on for
me, Smithy? Be a pal.”
Herbert Vernon-Smith did not answer in words. But his actions made it
plain that he was not going to be a pal. He made a sudden grab at Billy
Bunter, caught him by the back of a fat neck, and sat him down in the
dusty road.
Bump!
“Whooooop!”
Bunter sat hard on the cold unsympathetic earth, and roared. Herbert
Vernon-Smith walked away, leaving him sitting and roaring.
“Ow! Beast!” gasped Bunter. “Rotter! Wow! Ill-tempered beast, cutting up
rusty like that in the middle of a friendly chat! Wow!”
Billy Bunter resumed the perpendicular. The Bounder was gone—and with
him, the solution of Bunter’s problem. There was no help from Smithy in
getting “on” for the two-thirty!
But Bunter had to get “on.” That was essential, if he was to pick up the
easy money on Spanker. And he rolled away, at last, to the tow-path.
Bunter did not want to visit the “Three Fishers.” Whether he was more
“particular” than Smithy or not, he did not want to take the risk of going
out of bounds in such a quarter. Still more, he did not want to walk a mile.
Bunter did not like miles when he was walking— there were too many
furlongs in a mile to suit the lazy fat Owl. But there was no help for it—if
he was going to be “on.”
But as he reached the tow-path his fat face brightened at the sight of
five fellows pushing out a boat from the school raft. Harry Wharton and
Co. were going for a pull up the river—and nothing could have suited
Bunter better.
“I say, you fellows,” he yelled.
“Hallo, hallo, hallo!”
“I say, give a chap a lift!” squeaked Bunter.
“Oh, all right! Roll in, old barrel.”
The addition of Billy Bunter’s avoirdupois was not, perhaps, specially
grateful or comforting to the Famous Five. But they were good-natured
and raised no demur when the fat Owl rolled into the boat.
Bunter sat down in the stern, beside Frank Nugent: and Wharton, Bob
Cherry, Johnny Bull and Hurree Jamset Ram Singh pulled. The boat shot
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