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The New Forest Spy, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 17. A Hot Scent |
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_ "To be sure," said the sergeant sharply. "Well, we are waiting. You know the way better than we do. Up you go." The constable turned upon him in astonishment, blowing out his cheeks and seeming to make his eyes roll, while his naturally rotund figure began more and more to assume the appearance of a fat cork float. "Me! Me! Me go up there!" "To be sure," said the sergeant. "You country chaps are used to this sort of thing. My lads are not. Scaling ladders is more in our way, and they are bad enough when you have got to carry your Brown Bess." "To be sure," said the gardener, chiming in, with a grin of satisfaction. "That's right enough, sergeant. Up you go, Fatty!" "You will get yourself into trouble, Joe Hanson," said the constable pompously. "This here's the second time I have warned you. You, sergeant--you know I can't get up there at my time of life, and it's your duty to send your men. I order you, in the King's name, to search that roof." "Oh, very well," said the sergeant gruffly. "Here, number one and two, stand your muskets up against the wall. No, one of you only. You, Jem Cogan; you are a light one. Up you go. You are not quite so heavy as the constable here." "Haw! haw! haw!" laughed the gardener. "That's a good one!" And he bent down to slap his knees, while, to the constable's great disgust, the hoarse laugh was echoed in the shape of a titter uttered by the two maids, who had come to the back kitchen door. Gusset blew out his cheeks again, and moved slowly towards the foot of the ladder, where, as the soldier placed his musket against the sill of one of the lower windows and then began lightly to ascend, Gusset set his feet very far apart, as if in imitation of the ladder, planted his fat hands upon his hips, and began to follow the private's movements, leaning somewhat back the while. All at once there was a quick movement in the little group round the foot of the ladder, for, partly moved by the spirit of mischief, as well as by the intense desire to create a diversion, Waller made a rush. "Hold hard a minute, soldier!" he shouted. "I know the way best; let me come first." As he spoke he literally charged at the constable, who was now leaning backwards a little out of his perpendicular, and came heavily in contact with him, forcing the man to make a snatch at one of the rounds to save himself from falling. The next moment the top of the ladder began to glide sideways, describing an arc as it rustled through the ivy. The mounting soldier, feeling it go, made a jump to alight upon his feet, but, not having time to properly judge his distance, he came down upon the constable instead, and there followed a short scuffle, out of which Waller was the first to gain his feet, to turn savagely upon the heavy, sitting man, and exclaim, amidst roars of laughter: "Why did you do that?" "Yes," shouted the gardener; "I saw him pull it over. Just look here, Master Waller! Here's my beautiful new ladder snapped in two!" It was a fact. There lay the pieces; and the soldier, whose face had flushed with rage, but who was not hurt, now joined in the laughter of those around, while the constable still sat looking piteously about, as if for the sympathy that did not come. The sergeant was the next to speak; as he bent over and held out his hand. "Well, you have done it now, master," he said. "I shouldn't have thought an old chap like you would get playing a trick like that." "Oh!" groaned Gusset, looking at him piteously. "Help me, please! I think there's something broke!" "Not there," said the sergeant cheerily. "You wouldn't break; you are too soft and inji-rubbery, old chap. Here, you two, set him on his pins again. I am very sorry. Mr Froy, sir, about this ladder, but you see it wasn't my men's fault." "No, of course not," said Waller. "They couldn't help it. Blundering up against the ladder like that! It looks as if he had been drinking." Meanwhile Gusset was "set upon his pins," again, as the sergeant expressed it--in other words, he was helped up, groaning and breathing hard, to look from one to the other for commiseration, but finding none. "Well, this is all waste of time, my lads," said the sergeant, pulling himself together. "I say, gardener, we must have another long ladder, I suppose." "You'll get no more of my ladders to break," said the gardener, wagging his head, "in the King's name or out of the King's name." "What!" cried the sergeant, with mock fierceness. "Well, how can you," said the gardener, "when there aren't none? There's two little ones as you can tie together if you like, and Mrs Gusset will lend you a bit of clothes-line. But you wouldn't catch me venturing my carkidge up them if she did. But you can do as you like, unless old Waxy Fat would like another try." "The lunch is quite ready, Mr Sergeant," came from the kitchen door at that moment. "Thank you, ma'am," said the sergeant, with a salute and a smile. Then he turned and looked at the broken ladder, next at Waller, and then at the mournful face of the constable, who looked back at him in despair. "Well, master," he said, "my lads aren't much of angels, and they can't fly up on to the roof, but they are looking hungry, as fellows as haven't had a bite for the last six hours; so, with your leave, Mr Froy, sir, I will give orders for a flank attack upon that there bread and cheese.--Fall in, my lads! Left face! Forward! March!" and, placing himself by the leading file, he led the way straight up to the kitchen door, halted his men, gave the order to pile arms, and marched them into the kitchen, going himself directly after to collect his sentries and bring them up to the attack. _ |
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