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The Weathercock: Being the Adventures of a Boy with a Bias, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 14. Macey In Difficulties |
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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. MACEY IN DIFFICULTIES "Well, no," said the doctor emphatically, after hearing Vane's confession at breakfast next morning. "No harm was done, so I think we will make it a private affair between us, Vane, for the rector would look upon it as high treason if he knew." "I'll go and tell him if you say I am to, uncle." "Then I do not say you are to, boy. By the way, do your school-fellows--I beg their pardons--your fellow-pupils know?" "I have only told you and aunt, sir." "Ah, well, let it rest with us, and I daresay the clockmaker will have his own theory about how the two wheels happened to be missing from the works of the clock. Only don't you go meddling with things which do not belong to your department in future or you may get into very serious trouble indeed." The doctor gave his nephew a short sharp nod which meant dismissal, and Vane went off into the conservatory to think about his improvement of the heating apparatus. But the excitement of the previous night and the short rest he had had interfered with his powers of thought, and the greenhouse was soon left for the laboratory, and that place for the rectory, toward which Vane moved with a peculiarly guilty feeling. He wished now that the doctor had given him leave to speak out, for then he felt that he could have gone more comfortably to the study, instead of taking his seat imagining that the rector suspected him, or that he had been told that his pupil had been seen going into the church-tower with Chakes, and afterwards alone. "He can't help knowing," Vane said to himself, as he neared the grounds; "and I shall have to confess after all." But he did not, for on reaching the rectory Joseph met him with the announcement that master was so unwell that he had decided not to get up. "Then there will be no study this morning, Joseph?" "No, sir, not a bit, and the young gents have gone off--rabbiting, I think." "Which way?" "Sowner's woods, sir. I think if you was to look sharp you'd ketch 'em up." Vane felt quite disposed to "look sharp," and overtake the others, one reason being that he hoped to find Distin more disposed to become friendly again, for he argued it was so stupid for them, working together at the same table, to be separated and to carry on a kind of feud. It was about a couple of miles to Sowner's wood, and with the intention of taking all the short cuts, and getting there in less than half an hour, Vane hurried on, feeling the soft sweet breeze upon his cheeks and revelling in the joy of being young, well and hearty. The drowsy sensations he had felt at breakfast were rapidly passing off, and his spirits rose as he now hoped that there would be no trouble about his escapade with the clock, as he had done the right thing in explaining matters to the doctor. It was a glorious morning, with the country round looking lovely in the warm mellow light of early autumn, and, gaze which way he would, some scene of beauty met his eye. His course was along the main road for some distance, after which he would have to turn down one of the many narrow lanes of that part of the country--lanes which only led from one farm to another, and for the most part nearly impassable in winter from the scarcity of hard material for repairing the deep furrows made by the waggon-wheels. But these lanes were none the less beautiful with their narrow borders of grass in the place of paths, each cut across at intervals, to act as a drain to the road, though it was seldom that they did their duty and freed the place from the pools left by the rain. The old Romans, when they made roads, generally drew them straight. The Lincolnshire farmers made them by zigzagging along the edge of a man's land, so that there was no cause for surprise to Vane when after going along some distance beneath the overhanging oak trees he came suddenly upon his old friends the gipsies once more, with the miserable horses grazing, the van and cart drawn up close to the hedge, and the women cooking at their wood fire as of old. They saluted him with a quiet nod, and as Vane went on, he was cognisant of the fact that they were watching him; but he would not look back till he had gone some distance. When he did the little camp was out of sight, but the two gipsy lads were standing behind as if following him. As soon as they saw that they were observed, they became deeply intent upon the blackberries and haws upon the hedges, picking away with great eagerness, but following again as Vane went on. "I suppose they think I'm going rabbiting or fishing, and hope to get a job," thought Vane. "Well, they'll be disappointed, but they must find it out for themselves." He was getting hot now, for the sun came down ardently, and there was no wind down in the deeply-cut lane, but he did not check his pace for he was nearing Sowner's woods now, and eager to find out the object which had brought his three fellow-pupils there. "What are they after?" he said. "Distin wouldn't stoop to go blackberrying or nutting. He doesn't care for botany. Rabbiting! I'll be bound to say they've got a gun and are going to have a day at them. "Well, I don't mind," he concluded after a pause, "but I don't believe old Distin would ever hit a rabbit if he tried, and--" He stopped short, for, on turning a corner where the lane formed two sides of a square field, he saw that the two great hulking lads were slouching along after him still, and had lessened the distance between them considerably. Vane's musings had been cut short off and turned into another track. "Well," he said, "perhaps they may have a chance to hunt out wounded rabbits, or find dead ones, and so earn sixpence a piece." Then, as he hurried on, taking off his hat now to wipe his steaming brow, he began to wonder who had given the pupils leave for a day's rabbit-shooting, and came to the conclusion at last that Churchwarden Rounds, who had some land out in this direction had obtained permission for them. "Don't matter," he said; "perhaps they're not after rabbits after all." Soon after the lane turned in another direction and, as he passed round the corner, thinking of what short cuts any one might make who did not mind forcing his way through or leaping hedges, he once more glanced back at the gipsy lads, and found that he was only being followed by one. "The other has given it up as a bad job," he said to himself, and then, "How much farther is it? and what a wild-goose chase I am coming. They may have gone in quite another direction, for Joseph couldn't be sure." Just then, though, an idea occurred to him--That he would easily find out where they were when they fired. "I wonder whose gun they have borrowed?" For, knowing that they owned none, he began to run over in his mind who would be the most ready to lend a gun in the expectation of getting half a crown for its use. "Gurner's got one, because he goes after the wild geese in the winter," thought Vane; "and Bruff has that big flint-lock with the pan lined with silver. He'd lend it to anybody for a shilling and be glad of it.-- Well, look at that! Why he must have made a regular short cut so as to get there. Why did he do that?" This thought was evoked by Vane suddenly catching sight of the second gipsy lad turned into the first. In other words, the one whom he supposed to have gone back, had gone on, and Vane found himself in that narrow lane with high banks and hedges on either side and with one of these great lawless lads in front, and the other behind. For the first time it now occurred to Vane that the place was very lonely, and that the nearest farm was quite a mile away, right beyond Sowner wood, whose trees now came in view, running up the slope of a great chalk down. "Whatever do they mean?" thought Vane, for the gipsy lad in front had suddenly stopped, turned round, and was coming toward him. "Why, he has a stick," said Vane to himself, and looking sharply round he saw that the other one also carried a stick. For a moment a feeling of dread ran through him, but it passed off on the instant, and he laughed at himself for a coward. "Pooh!" he said, "they want to beat for rabbits and that's why they have got their sticks." In spite of himself Vane Lee wondered why the lads had not been seen to carry sticks before; then, laughing to himself as he credited them with having had them tucked up somewhere under their clothes, he walked on boldly. "What nonsense!" he thought; "is it likely that those two fellows would be going to attack me!" But all the same their movements were very suggestive, for there was a furtive, peculiar action on the part of the one in front, who was evidently uneasy, and kept on looking behind him and to right and left, as if in search of danger or a way of escape, and in both a peculiar hesitancy that struck Vane at once. Under the circumstances, he too, had hard work to keep from looking about for a way of escape, should the lads mean mischief: but he did not, for fear that they should think him cowardly, and walked steadily on, with the result that the boy in front stopped short and then began slowly to retreat. "They are up to some game," thought Vane with his heart beginning to beat hard, and a curious feeling of excitement running through him as he thought of his chances against two strong lads armed with sticks if they did dare to attack him. But again he cast aside the thought as being too absurd, and strode boldly on. "These are not the days for footpads and highwaymen," he said to himself, and just then the lad in front gave vent to a peculiar whistle, made a rush up the bank on his left, looked sharply round, ducked down, whistled again, and disappeared. "I'd give something to know what game they call this," said Vane to himself, as he watched the spot where the lad had disappeared; and then he turned sharply round to question the one who was following him, but, to his astonishment, he found that the lane behind him was vacant. Vane paused for a few moments and then made a dash forward till he reached the trampled grass and ferns where the first boy had scrambled up the bank, climbed to the top, and stood looking round for him. But he was gone, and there was not much chance for anyone not gifted with the tracking power of an Indian to follow the fugitive through the rough tangle of scrub oak, ferns, brambles and gorse which spread away right to the borders of the wood. Just as he was standing on the highest part of the bank looking sharply round, he heard a shout. Then-- "Weathercock, ahoy! Coo-ee!" He looked in the direction, fully expecting to see Macey, whose voice he recognised, but for some minutes he was invisible. Then he saw the tall ferns moving, and directly after he caught sight of his fellow-pupil's round face, and then of his arms waving, as he literally waded through the thick growth. Vane gave an answering shout, and went to meet him, trying the while to arrive at a settlement of the gipsy lads' conduct, and feeling bound to come to the conclusion that they had meant mischief; but heard Macey coming, perhaps the others, for he argued that they could not be very far away. Vane laughed to himself, as he advanced slowly, for he knew the part he was in well enough, and it amused him as he fought his way on, to think of the struggles Macey, a London boy, was having to get through the tangle of briar and furze. For he had often spent an hour in the place with the doctor, collecting buckthorn and coral-moss, curious lichens, sphagnum, and the round, and long-leaved sundews, or butterwort: for all these plants abounded here, with the bramble and bracken. There were plenty of other bog plants, too, in the little pools and patches of water, while the dry, gravelly and sandy mounds here and there were well known to him as the habitat of the long-legged parasol mushrooms, whose edible qualities the doctor had taught him in their walks. "Poor old Macey!" he said, as he leaped over or parted the great thorny strands of the brambles laden with their luscious fruit which grew here in abundance, and then he stopped short and laughed, for a yell came from his fellow-pupil, who had also stopped. "Come on," cried Vane. "Can't! I'm caught by ten million thorns. Oh, I say, do come and help a fellow out." Vane backed a little way, and selecting an easier path, soon reached the spot where Macey was standing with his head and shoulders only visible. "Why didn't you pick your way?" he cried. "Couldn't," said Macey dolefully; "the thorns wouldn't let me. I say, do come." "All right," said Vane, confidently, but the task was none too easy, for Macey had floundered into the densest patch of thorny growth anywhere near, and the slightest movement meant a sharp prick from blackberry, rose, or furze. "Whatever made you try to cross this bit?" said Vane, who had taken out his knife to divide some of the strands. "I was trying to find the lane. Haven't seen one about anywhere, have you?" "Why, of course I have," said Vane, laughing at his friend's doleful plight. "It's close by." "I began to think somebody had taken it away. Oh! Ah! I say--do mind; you're tearing my flesh." "But I must cut you out. Now then, lift that leg and put your foot on this bramble." "It's all very fine to talk, but I shall be in rags when I do get out." "That's better: now the other. There, now, put your hand on my shoulder and give a jump." "I daren't." "Nonsense--why?" "I should leave half my toggery behind." "You wouldn't: come along. Take my hands." Macey took hold of his companion's hands, there was a bit of a struggle, and he stood bemoaning his injuries; which consisted of pricks and scratches, and a number of thorns buried deeply beneath his clothes. "Nice place this is," he said dolefully. "Lovely place for botanists," said Vane, merrily. "Then I'm thankful I'm not a botanist." "Where are the others?" asked Vane. "I don't know. Distin wanted to lie down in the shade as soon as we reached the edge of the wood, and Gil wouldn't leave him, out of civility." "Then you didn't come rabbit-shooting?" "Rabbit-grandmothering! We only came for a walk, and of course I didn't want to sit down and listen to Distin run down England and puff the West Indies, so I wandered off into the wood and lost myself." "What, there too?" "Yes, and spent my time thinking about you." "What! Because you wanted me to act as guide?" "No, I didn't: it was because I got into a part where the oak trees and fir trees were open, and there was plenty of grass. And there I kept on finding no end of toadstools such as you delight in devouring." "Ah!" exclaimed Vane eagerly. "Where was it?" "Oh, you couldn't find the place again. I couldn't, but there were such big ones; and what do you think I said?" "How should I know?" said Vane, trampling down the brambles, so as to make the way easier for his companion. "I said I wish the nasty pig was here, and he could feast for a month." "Thank you," said Vane. "I don't care. I can only pity ignorant people. But whereabouts did you leave Gil and Distin?" "I don't know, I tell you. Under an oak tree." "Yes, but which?" "Oh, somewhere. I had a pretty job to find my way out, and I didn't till I had picked out a great beech tree to sleep in to-night, and began thinking of collecting acorns for food." "Why didn't you shout?" "I did, till I was so hoarse I got down to a whisper. Oh, I say, why did you let that bit of furze fly back?" "Couldn't help it." "I'm getting sick of Greythorpe. No police to ask your way, no gas lamps, no cabs." "None at all. It's a glorious place, isn't it, Aleck?" "Well, I suppose it is when you know your way, and are not being pricked with thorns." "Ah, you're getting better," cried Vane. "What shall we do--go back alone, or try and find them?" "Go back, of course. I'm not going through all that again to-day to find old Distin, and hear him sneer about you. He's always going on. Says Syme has no business to have you at the rectory to mix with gentlemen." "Oh, he says that, does he?" "Yes, and I told him you were more of a gentleman than he was, and he gave me a back-handed crack over the mouth." "And what did you do--hit him back?" "Not with my fist. With my tongue. Called him a nigger. That hits him hardest, for he's always fancying people think there's black blood in his veins, though, of course, there isn't, and it wouldn't matter if there were, if he was a good fellow. Let's get on. Where's the lane?" "Just down there," said Vane; and they reached it directly after, but there were no signs of the gipsies, and Vane said nothing about them then, feeling that he must have been mistaken about their intentions, which could only have been to beg. _ |
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