Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards of his head as he went, with a glare compared with which that of the fabled Gorgon was a kindly glance. William Wibley lived, moved, and had his being in amateur theatricals. He infused a great deal of his enthusiasm into other members of the Dramatic Society. But not sufficient to keep them indoors on a sunny half-holiday. Harry Wharton and Co., realising that Wibley was deaf and blind to argument on the subject, had imitated the Arabs, who folded their tents and stole silently away. Smithy, less regardful of the feelings of the President of the Remove Dramatic Society, walked off under his nose. “Look here, Smithy—!” roared Wibley, his glare at the back of the Bounder’s head having produced no effect whatever. “Sorry—can’t keep fellows waiting—ta-ta!” answered Smithy, over his shoulder. “I’ll cut the part!” hooted Wibley. “Mind, if you don’t turn up for rehearsals, you’re out—I’ll cut the part.” Whereat Herbert Vernon-Smith chuckled. If Wibley cut the part of every fellow who did not turn up in the Rag that sunny afternoon, he was likely to be left with a very small cast. Leaving the helpless producer, director, stage-manager and actormanager fuming, the Bounder walked away to the bike-shed. He was going on that spin with the Famous Five. They had already started, but he had only to put on a spurt and overtake them on the Redclyffe road. He paused for a moment, before going into the bike-shed, to glance, with a grin, at a fat figure at the gate which was heaving itself into the saddle of a bike rather too high for a pair of short plump legs. Billy Bunter landed in the saddle with a bump and a gasp, and wobbled wildly, his feet missing pedals. He disappeared out of the gateway in a wild wobble. The Bounder chuckled, and went in for his machine. Then he stared at an empty stand. His bicycle, the handsome and expensive Moonbeam which was a present from his millionaire pater, was not there. The expression that came over Smithy’s face was quite alarming. Every other machine was out, excepting one— a dilapidated rusty object that had a twisted pedal, a loose mudgard, and a broken chain. Fellows sometimes borrowed one another’s jiggers—but nobody ever borrowed Bunter’s. And any fellow who borrowed Smithy’s Moonbeam was booked for trouble. Now, evidently, somebody had borrowed it. “That fat scoundrel!” ejaculated the Bounder. Page 6 of 161
Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards He could guess who the “somebody” was—having just seen Billy Bunter mounting a machine too high for him, while his own old crock was left in the shed. He rushed out of the bike-shed, and to the gate. Out on the road a fat figure was wobbling in full view. Any fellow but Bunter might have shot away on that bike, dodging the wrath to come till he met the owner later. But the fat Owl of the Remove was in difficulties. No other machine being available, and it being urgently necessary to arrive at Cliff House while something still remained in the hamper from home, Billy Bunter had ventured to borrow Smithy’s. But he had not ventured to wait while he lowered the saddle—he did not want to be caught in the act. So Bunter, high and dry as it were, wobbled in quite a frantic manner, sometimes getting a pedal, oftener missing it, and every now and then getting a knock on a fat ankle from a whirling pedal that made him utter shrill yelps. Bunter’s idea was to get that borrowed bike to a safe distance, then dismount, open the tool-bag, and put the saddle down. But he was not at a safe distance when Smithy’s glare fell on him from the gate—far from it. His hit-and-miss system of pedalling did not make for speed. Smithy came out with a rush. “Bunter!” he roared. “Stop! Get off that bike! Do you hear? Stop!” “Oh, crikey!” gasped Bunter. He shot an alarmed blink over a fat shoulder. That almost did it—Bunter very nearly got off the bike without intended to do so. The machine wobbled frantically, and Bunter zig-zagged across the road, kicking wildly at whirling pedals. “Stop!” yelled Vernon-Smith. “Beast!” gasped Bunter. If Bunter had been disposed to stop, and yield up the borrowed bike, the look on Smithy’s face would have dissuaded him. Smithy was speeding after him, and only too clearly his countenance indicated what was going to happen to Bunter when he got within reach. Billy Bunter did not want him to get within reach. He was thinking even less of the hamper at Cliff House than of what would happen if Smithy got him. He plunged at one pedal, and then at the other, swaying wildly to starboard and then to port, but keeping going somehow. “Stop!” shrieked the Bounder. He fairly raced. The pattering of rapid footsteps behind urged Bunter on. It was no easy matter for the fat Owl. As he could not possibly keep his feet on both Page 7 of 161
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Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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