Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards whistling downhill by the time Coker sat up. He was out of reach long before Coker got on his feet. “Here—stop—get off my bike—my hat!” Coker spluttered. “Bring that bike back, you young villain! I say! Great pip! I—I’ll pulverise you!” Horace Coker could hardly believe that a Lower-School junior could have the nerve to whisk off on his bike, under his very nose. But unbelievable as it was, it had happened! Smithy was shooting down the hill on Coker’s bike, going like the wind, leaving Coker to splutter. “Stop! Come back!” roared Coker. “Do you hear? Stop!” He chased madly in pursuit. Coker’s long legs covered the ground rapidly. But even Coker’s long legs were not equal to whirling wheels. Smithy shot away from him. Having found the pedals with his toes, and having nothing to do but freewheel downhill, Smithy went on his way quite comfortably, glad of the lift, and vanished round a bend of the road. Coker came to a breathless halt, in a state of wrath, compared with which the celebrated and direful wrath of Achilles was merely a momentary spot of mild irritation. “I—I—-I’ll——!” gasped Coker. He whirled round to stride up the hill. His idea was to bag a bike from Potter or Greene, and carry on the chase. But Potter and Greene were a good distance ahead by that time, grinding on and up to Redclyffe. “Hold on! Stop! Potter! Greene! I want one of those bikes! Hold on! Stop!” shouted Coker. Probably they were out of hearing, even of Coker’s powerful voice. If they were not out of hearing, they understudied the Dying Gladiator, who heard but heeded not! They did not look round. They plugged on up the hill, and Coker, his feelings growing deeper and deeper, had to give up his idea. Potter and Greene disappeared over the hilly horizon. Coker, with deeper and deeper and deeper feelings, foot-slogged the rest of the way to Redclyffe, arriving there a tired and dusty Coker, in the worst temper ever. CHAPTER VI MORE BAD LUCK FOR BUNTER “OH, crickey!” breathed Billy Bunter. He jumped. Sitting in Smithy’s armchair, in Smithy’s study, with Smithy’s cake on his fat knees, chunk following chunk on the downward path, Billy Bunter had Page 20 of 161
Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards been enjoying life. In possession of a large plum cake and a Gargantuan appetite, Billy Bunter naturally forgot time and space. He also forgot Smithy. He was reminded of him as he heard his voice outside the study. “Seen Bunter, Skinner?” Billy Bunter’s eyes, and spectacles, shot round to the study door in alarm. The Bounder, evidently, had come in. Judging by his voice, which had a very unpleasant tone in it, he was not in a good temper. Judging by his words, he wanted to see Bunter. Bunter did not want to see Smithy. It was only too probable that Smithy was shirty about that incident with the bike. Least of all did he want to see Smithy now— in Smithy’s study, with half Smithy’s cake on his fat knees, and the other half parked in his capacious inside. If Smithy had opened the study door he would have seen Bunter sitting there, in the very act of devouring his cake. But it did not occur to Smithy that Bunter might be in his study. He was inquiring after him, with only a shut door between! “Oh, scissors!” gasped Bunter. He jumped up from the armchair. There was no escape from the study, with Herbert Vernon-Smith in the passage outside. And he might enter at any moment. As the terrified fat Owl stood blinking at the door, he heard Skinner’s reply from the passage. “Yes, I spoke to him ten minutes ago. Isn’t he in his study?” “I’ve looked there!” growled the Bounder. “Anything up?” asked Skinner. “He bagged my bike! I’m going to boot him up the passage and back again. I’ve had a spill because of that fat tick. I’m going to give him the booting of his life.” “Beast!” breathed Bunter. Bunter blinked wildly round the study. Then he backed behind the door. There was a chance, if a slim one, of dodging out if the Bounder did not see him when he entered. The door would hide him when it opened, if only for a moment or two. There the fat Owl stood palpitating, with the remnant of Smithy’s cake under a fat arm. Even at that thrilling moment, Bunter did not forget the cake. Bunter often forgot things—indeed the things he forgot were innumerable—but he never forgot cake. The door-handle rattled, and the door flew open. It banged on Bunter behind it, and he barely repressed a squeak. It was like Smithy, when he was in a temper, to hurl the door open like Page 21 of 161
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Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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