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The New Forest Spy, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 9. In Hiding |
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_ CHAPTER NINE. IN HIDING "What's he doing now?" said Martha. "Isn't going to be ill, is he?" "Ill?" said Bella, contemptuously. "Not he!" "But he's shut up in that attic, isn't he?" "Yes, I told you so. Got another of those whim-whams in his head, and making a litter of some kind--skinning snakes or something that he's caught in the woods." "Ugh!" ejaculated cook. "If there's anything I can't abear it's them nasty scrawmy things. Did you tell him his dinner was ready?" "Yes, and he nearly snapped my head off." "What does he want to be skinning snakes for?" said the cook. "Oh, I don't know--horrid things! He's got about half a dozen up there as he did last year; peels all the skins off, same as you do with the eels, and then turns them inside out again, fills them full of sand, and then twists them up and leaves them to dry." "And what then?" said cook. "Pours all the sand out again." "But, I say, has he got them up there alive before he skins them?" "I don't know as he has got any at all," said Bella shortly. "Then why did you say he had?" "I didn't. I only said I supposed he had, because he's always skinning something or another. He's got owls, and stoats, and all sorts of things that he gets in the forest, or that nasty fellow Bunny Wrigg brings for him." "Oh!" said the cook. "Because I am not going to sleep upstairs if he's got live snakes to come crawling out of his room at all times in the night." But though guilty of many such acts as the maid charged him with, Waller was not engaged with any taxidermic preparations, for his time during the past two days had been taken up in attendance upon the young fugitive. For the first day the latter ate nothing, but passed the full twenty-four hours in a feverish sleep. Then he seemed to throw off the fever, and, thanks to his host, who was eager to supply him, gradually transformed himself from the miserable, ragged, famished object into such a specimen of humanity as made Waller smile with satisfaction. "Why," he said, "if the soldiers did come they wouldn't know you again." "Again?" replied the lad. "They've never seen me." "Well, I mean they wouldn't take you for a--for a--" "There, say it," cried the lad sadly, "For a spy." "I didn't mean spy," said Waller. "I meant fugitive." "But they would. If I were questioned, what account could I give of myself? I have tried to do the work for which I came--for which we came--and I have failed. I am not going to tell a lie." "No, of course not," said Waller hotly; "but you might hold your tongue, or tell any impudent beggar who dared to ask you questions, to mind his own business, if he didn't want to be kicked." "Should you speak to the soldiers like that?" said Boyne, with a smile. "Of course," cried Waller. "What do I care for the soldiers?" "Ah!" sighed the lad. "But never mind that. I am so grateful to you for all you have done." "Oh, nonsense!" cried Waller, flushing. "People are always hospitable in the country." "So I have heard," said the other; "but, if I had been your own brother you could not have done more for me. You have saved my life." "Oh, nonsense! I tell you. You make too much of it. I never had a brother, but fellows whom I have known at Winchester who have--they are not so very fond of doing things for one another. They generally like fighting and knocking one another about. I suppose they oughtn't to, but they quarrel more with their brothers than they do with anyone else. But you mustn't touch their brothers, for if you do--oh my! You have them on to you at once. Here, I say, I wish you wouldn't talk like that." "Well, I will not. I don't want to go away and leave you, but I must. I can think of nothing else." "But why?" "Because I am shut up here alone so much, a prisoner." "Yes, but it's only until it's safe for you to go away. You must see that you ought to be patient. There, I'll bring you up books to read, to amuse you." "I can't read them. They wouldn't amuse me with my mind in this state." "Well; then, have a look at some of my things," cried Waller, pulling out the drawer of a big press. "These are all traps and springs with which I catch birds and animals in the forest. Bunny Wrigg taught me how to make them and how to use them. I wish you knew him. He's a capital fellow, and knows the forest ten times better than I do." "Oh, I don't want to know the forest--nor, your friend," said the lad wearily. "I want to be free to come and go--as free as the birds and those little animals, the squirrels, that I see out of the window." "Yes, of course you do, and so you shall be soon," cried Waller. "But you haven't quite recovered yet from that feverishness and all you went through. I say, have a look in this drawer." Waller thrust the open one in and pulled out another. "Look here, these are my old nets with which we drag the hammer pond, and catch the carp and tench; great golden fellows they are, some of them; but the worst of it is the pond's so deep that the fish dive under the net and escape." "And those which do not," said the lad sadly, "you take in that net and make prisoners of them. Poor things! And what good are they to you when you have caught them?" "Good? Good to eat! I say, what a fellow you are to talk of the fish one catches as prisoners! Carp and tench are not human beings." "No, they are not human beings," said the lad, smiling sadly; "but they are prisoners, the same as I am." "Oh, I say, what stuff! To call yourself a prisoner, when you are only a visitor here, and could come and go just as you like--at least, not quite, for it wouldn't be safe; but it will be soon." "What's that coil of new rope for?" "That?" cried Waller. "Oh, that's a new rope for my drag-net. The old one was quite worn out. You shall help me to fit this on if you like." "Thank you. I'll help you if you wish." "Well, I do wish, when you get well; but I don't care to see you in the dumps like this. Of course I know what it is: it's being shut up in this room for so long. A few good walks in the forest would make you as right as could be." "Yes," said the lad wearily. "I feel as if I should like to be out again, for I often think when I am shut up here that it's like being a bird in a cage." "Ah, you won't feel that long," said Waller. It was the very next day when, after taking his new friend a selection of what he considered interesting books, Waller announced that he should not come upstairs again till the evening, for he had several things to do, and among others to write a letter to his father in London, and then take it to the village post-office for despatch. "I don't think that either of the maids is likely to come up," said Waller, at parting; "but if they should try the door, all you have got to do is to keep quite still. Of course, you will lock yourself in as soon as I am gone. Shall I bring you anything else to eat before I go?" "No," said the lad, with a weary look of disgust. "You bring me too much as it is; more than I care to have. Don't bring me any more till I ask." "I shall," said Waller, with a laugh. "I am not going to have you starve yourself to death up in my room. There, jump up and come and shut the door, and then have a good long read. I'll get back to you as soon as I can, and then we will have a good game at draughts or chess. But I mustn't be up here too much, or it will make the girls suspicious. There, good-bye for the present." Waller went down and busied himself at once over the letter to his father, telling him of some of the things that were going on, but carefully--though strongly tempted--omitting all allusion to the fugitive. It was rather a slow and laborious task for the boy, clever as he was at most things, though none too able in the use of a quill pen. But he got his letter finished at last, the big post-paper carefully folded and sealed, and then went off to the post-bag at the little village shop, before hurrying back home to partake of his tea, which was waiting. It was a lonely meal, and the boy sighed as he stirred the sugar, and wished he could have Godfrey Boyne down, as companion for himself, and to cheer the poor fellow up. It was quite dark by the time he had done, and with the full intention of suggesting that they should wait till the girls had gone to bed, and then steal down together for a walk in the forest, the boy rose to go and make an observation or two as to the position of the servants, before stealing up to join his friend. Waller rose, went across to the bell, the pull of which he had taken in his hand, when he was startled by a distant scream, followed by half a dozen more, and the trampling of feet somewhere above, while, as he rushed out into the hall, he was just in time to hear a door bang and quick steps hurrying along the kitchen passage. _ |
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