Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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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 Page 130 of 161
Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards away up the Sark, and Greyfriars dropped out of sight behind. “I say, you fellows, where are you going?” asked Bunter. “Pull up to Popper’s Island, round it, and back again,” answered Harry Wharton. That was satisfactory. Popper’s Island was further up the river than the “Three Fishers.” All Bunter had to do was to step out when his destination was reached. Four oars made quick work, and the boat was soon in sight of the riverside inn, which had a gateway on the tow-path. In that gateway stood a fat and rather greasy gentleman, with a bowler hat cocked rakishly on one side of an oily head, smoking a big cigar. Billy Bunter knew Mr. Joseph Banks by sight; he had seen that frowsy gentleman before. “I say, you fellows, pull in to the bank, will you?” asked Bunter. “What on earth for?” “I want to get out.” The Famous Five looked at him. They had not forgotten Sporting Snips and Spanker: and Bunter’s eyes, and spectacles, were riveted on the riverside inn and the frowsy man smoking in the gateway. They looked at Mr. Banks, then at Bunter again. “You fat, frabjous, frumptious fathead—!” began Bob Cherry. “Oh, really, Cherry—.” “You pernicious porker—!” said Frank Nugent. “Oh, really, Nugent—.” “What do you want to get out for, at this particular spot, Bunter?” asked Harry Wharton, quietly. “You jolly well mind your own business,” retorted Bunter, independently. “Just pull into the back, and let a fellow get out, see? You can pick me up again coming back.” The boat pulled on. It passed the “Three Fishers,” the frowsy man in the gateway giving it an idle glance as it passed. Billy Bunter squeaked angrily. “Look here, I tell you I want to get out! I—I say, I—I ain’t going to the ‘Three Fishers,’ you know! I—I ain’t going to see Banks about the twothirty!” “You’re not,” agreed Harry Wharton. “I—I just want to go for a—a walk, you know.” “We know!” grinned Bob. “The knowfulness is terrific, my esteemed fibbing Bunter” “Look here, you beast!” roared Bunter, indignantly. “I’m jolly well going to do as I jolly well like, see? I’m not sticking in this boat! I’m getting out.” “Go it!” grinned Johnny Bull. “Get out as soon as you like,” said Harry Wharton, laughing. “We’re not Page 131 of 161
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Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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