"Foot and eye opposed
In dubious strife."--Scott.
"And so here's Rugby, sir, at last, and you'll be in plenty of time
for dinner at the School-house, as I telled you," said the old guard,
pulling his horn out of its case and tootle-tooing away, while the
coachman shook up his horses, and carried them along the side of the
school close, round Dead-man's corner, past the school-gates, and down
the High Street to the Spread Eagle, the wheelers in a spanking trot,
and leaders cantering, in a style which would not have disgraced "Cherry
Bob," "ramping, stamping, tearing, swearing Billy Harwood," or any other
of the old coaching heroes.
Tom's heart beat quick as he passed the great schoolfield or close, with
its noble elms, in which several games at football were going on, and
tried to take in at once the long line of gray buildings, beginning
with the chapel, and ending with the School-house, the residence of the
head-master, where the great flag was lazily waving from the highest
round tower. And he began already to be proud of being a Rugby boy, as
he passed the schoolgates, with the oriel window above, and saw the boys
standing there, looking as if the town belonged to them, and nodding in
a familiar manner to the coachman, as if any one of them would be quite
equal to getting on the box, and working the team down street as well as
he.
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