Chapter 9

________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER NINE.

"Uncle James was always calling me a fool," said Tom the next morning; "and I must be, or I shouldn't have thought poor Uncle Richard half crazy. What a lot of stuff I did get into my head."

He was dressing with his window wide open; the sun was shining warmly, though it was only about six o'clock, and a delicious scent floated in from the garden and the pine-woods beyond.

"Grinding corn and turning miller!" he said, and he burst into a merry fit of laughter, and then stopped short with a hair-brush in his hand, staring at his face in the glass, for he hardly knew it; he looked so different to the sad, depressed lad whose countenance had gazed wearily at him from the mirror when he rose of a morning in London.

"It must be the fresh country air," he said to himself; but all the same he felt that it must be something more, and he hastened to finish dressing and go down, so as to have a good look round before breakfast punctually at eight.

"Seems like coming out for a holiday, or being at home again," he thought, as he went down-stairs softly, wondering whether he could easily get out, but to find that the front door was wide open, and hear the servants busy in the kitchen; while, as he stepped out on to the lawn, he suddenly heard the musical sound of a scythe being sharpened, and the next minute he was alongside of David, who had just begun to sweep the keen implement round and lay the daisies low.

"Mornin', sir, mornin'. Going to be reg'lar hot day.--Eh? Want to get up into the pine-woods. Best go straight to the bottom of the garden, and out into the field, and then strike up to your left."

Tom hurried through the bright grounds, followed the directions, and in a few minutes he was climbing a slope of rough common-land, here velvety short turf full of wild thyme, which exhaled its pungent odour as his feet crushed its dewy flowers, there tufted with an exceedingly fine-growing, soft kind of furze, beyond which were clumps of the greater, with its orange and yellow blooms, and rough patches of pale-bloomed ling and brilliant yellow broom.

Beyond this wide strip the closely-growing fir-trees began, forming a dense, dark-green wood.

It was for this that he was aiming; but as he reached the edge, he turned to stand in the bright sunshine looking down at the village.

There was the square-towered, ivy-covered church, with its clock-face glistening, and the hands pointing to twenty minutes past six. Beyond it, what seemed to be an extensive garden beside the churchyard, and the ivy-covered gables of a house that he immediately concluded was the Vicarage. Other attractive cottage-like houses were dotted about. Then he caught sight of the green, with its smaller places. Another more pretentious place or two, and as his eyes swept round, he reached, close at hand, his uncle's home--his home now, with the windmill towering above it just on the top of the ridge.

"What nonsense!" he said half aloud; and then he burst into a merry laugh, which ceased as he heard what sounded like a mocking echo, and a long-tailed black and white bird flew out of a fir-tree, with the sun glistening upon its burnished green and purple tail feathers. "Why it's a magpie!" he cried, and another flew out to follow the first.

As he stood watching them, his eyes rested upon a flashing of water here and there, showing where a stream ran winding through the shallow valley; while a couple of miles beyond it he could trace the railway now by a heavy goods train panting slowly along, with the engine funnel leaving a long train of white flocculent steam behind.

"Oh, it's lovely," he said softly. "Who could help being happy down here!"

There was rather a swelling in his throat, for he felt the change for a few moments. But the next minute the exploring desire was strong upon him, and he plunged in amongst the bronze, pillar-like stems of the fir-trees, and began wandering on and on in a kind of twilight, flecked and cut by vivid rays of sunshine, which came through the dense, dark-green canopy overhead. The place was full of attractions to such a newly-released prisoner, and his eyes were everywhere, now finding something to interest him in the thick soft carpet of pine-needles over which his feet glided. Then he caught sight of a squirrel which ran up a fir-tree, and stopped high up to watch the intruder. Then he came to an open place where trees had been felled; the stumps and chips dotted the ground, and bluebells had sprung up abundantly, along with patches of briar and heath revelling in the sunshine.

Here the sandy ground was showing soft and yellow in places, where it had been lately turned over, and in a minute or two he knew what by, for a rabbit sprang up from close to his feet, ran some fifty yards, and disappeared in a burrow; while from the trees beyond came a series of harsh cries, and he caught sight of half-a-dozen jays jerking themselves along, following one another in their soft flight, and showing the pure white patch just above their tails.

"There must be snakes and hedgehogs, and all kinds of wild things here," thought Tom, with all a boy's eagerness for country sights and sounds; "and look at that!"

He obeyed his own command, stopping short to watch, as he heard first a peculiar squealing sound, and directly after saw another rabbit come loping into sight, running in and out among the pine stumps, and keeping up the pitiful squealing sound as it ran.

"Must have been that," he thought; and he was about to run after it, when he suddenly saw something small and elongated appear among the bluebells. For a moment it appeared to be a large snake making its way unnaturally in an undulating, vertical way, instead of horizontally; but he directly after made out that it was a weasel in pursuit of the rabbit, going steadily along, evidently hunting by scent, and the next minute it had disappeared.

"I must not go much further," thought Tom after a while. "I ought to be back punctually to breakfast, and get my boots cleaned first."

He looked down at them, to see that the dew and sand had taken off all the polish, and stepping out now, he hurried for a mound, intending to make it the extent of his journey, and walk back from there to the village.

The mound was pine-crowned, and he had nearly reached the top, noting that the sand was liberally burrowed by rabbits, when all at once one of the little white-tailed creatures darted over the top into sight and rushed towards him; there was another rush, a big dog came into sight, overtook the rabbit before it could take refuge in a hole; there was a craunch, a squeal, and the dog was trotting back with the little animal drooping down on each side from its steel-trap jaws, quite dead.

"Poor rabbit," muttered Tom. "Why, it's that boy's dog."

He increased his pace, following the dog up the sandy mound; while the animal paid no heed to him, but went steadily on, with its thin, greyhound-like, bony tail hanging in a curve, till reaching the highest part of the eminence, the forepart with the rabbit disappeared, and then the tail curved up for a moment in the air and was gone.

Tom Blount felt interested, and hurried up now over the sand and fir-needles, till his head was above the top of the slope; and the next minute he was looking down at the back of the dog's master, as he was calmly stuffing the body of the defunct rabbit inside the lining of his coat, a slit in which served for a pocket. The dog was looking on, and just in front lay another rabbit, while a couple of yards away there was a hole scratched beneath the root of a tree, and the clean yellow sand scattered all about over the fir-needles.

The next moment Tom's sharp eyes detected that a couple of holes near at hand were covered with pieces of net, one of which suddenly began to move, and the dog drew its master's attention by giving a short low bark.

The warning had its effect, for the lad rose from his knees, stepped to the hole, and picked up something which Tom saw at once to be a long, reddish, writhing ferret. This snaky animal the lad thrust into his breast, stuffed the little piece of net into his pocket, picked up three more scraps from the mouths of other holes, and finally took the rabbit from the ground to pack inside his jacket lining, when the dog caught sight of Tom, and gave a sharp, angry bark.

The boy looked round, saw that he was observed, and started to run. But realising the next moment who it was, he hesitated, stopped, and hurriedly getting the second rabbit out of sight, put on a defiant air.

Tom smiled to himself.

"Poaching, or he wouldn't have begun to run.--I say," he said aloud, "whose wood is this?"

"What's that got to do with you?" cried the lad insolently. "'Tain't yours. And just you lookye here, if I ketches you sneaking arter and watching me again, I'll give you something as'll make that other side o' your face look swelled."

Tom involuntarily raised his hand to a tender spot on his right cheek, left from his encounter with his cousin, and the lad grinned.

"No, not that side, t'other," said the fellow. "Now then, just you hook it. You 'ain't no business here."

"As much business as you have," said Tom stoutly, for the lad's manner made his blood begin to flow more freely.

"No, you 'ain't; you're only a stranger, and just come."

"Anybody must have a right to come through here so long as he isn't poaching."

The lad gave a sharp look round, and then turned menacingly to Tom, with his fist doubled, and thrust his face forward.

"Just you say as I've been poaching agen, and I'll let you know."

His manner was so menacing that the dog read war, and set up a few hairs on the back of his neck, and uttered a low snarl.

"Yes, and I'll set the dog at yer too. Who's been poaching? Just you say that again."

"You look as if you had," said Tom stoutly, but with a very uncomfortable feeling running through him, for the dog's teeth were white and long, and looked just the kind to get a good hold of a running person's leg.

"Oh, I do, do I?" said the lad. "I'll soon let you know about that. Just you tell tales about me, and I'll half smash yer. I don't know as I won't now."

His manner was more menacing than ever, and Tom was beginning to feel that he would be compelled to place himself upon his defence, and signalise his coming to Furzebrough with another encounter, when, faintly-heard, came the striking of a church clock, borne on the soft morning breeze, arousing Tom to the fact that he must be a good way on towards an hour's walk back to his uncle's, and bringing up memories of his punctuality.

"Mustn't be late the first morning," he thought, just as the young rabbit poacher gave him a thrust back with his shoulder, and turning sharply he darted among the trees, and began to run toward his new home.

"Yah! coward!" was yelled after him, and a lump of sandy iron-stone struck him full in the back, making him wince; but he did not stop, only dodged in and out among the pine-trees, taking what he believed to be the right direction for the village. Then he ran faster, for he heard his assailant's voice urging on the dog.

"Ciss! Fetch him, Bob!" and glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the mongrel-looking brute was in full pursuit, snarling and uttering a low bark from time to time.

Tom's first and natural instinct was to run faster, in the hope that the dog would soon weary of the pursuit, and faster he did run, suffering from an unpleasant feeling of fear, for it is by no means pleasant to have a powerful, keen-toothed dog at your heels, one that has proved its ability to bite, and evidently intending to repeat the performance.

Tom ran, and the dog ran, and the latter soon proved that four legs are better for getting over the ground than two; for the next minute he was close up, snapping at the boy's legs, leaping at his hands, and sending him into a profuse perspiration.

"Ciss! fetch him down, boy!" came from a distance, and the dog responded by a bark and a snap at Tom's leg, which nearly took effect as he ran with all his might, and made him so desperate that he suddenly stopped short as the dog made a fresh snap, struck against him, and then from the effort rolled over and over on the ground.

Before it could gather itself up for a fresh attack Tom, in his desperation, stooped down and picked up the nearest thing to him--to wit, a good-sized fir-cone, which he hurled at the dog with all his might. It was very light, and did not hit its mark, but the young poacher's dog was a bad character, and must have known it. Certainly it had had stones thrown at it before that morning, and evidently under the impression that it was about to have its one eye knocked out or its head split, it uttered a piercing whining cry, tucked its thin tail between its legs, and began to run back toward its master as fast as it could go, chased by another fir-cone, which struck the ground close by it, and elicited another yelp.

Tom laughed, and at the same time felt annoyed with himself.

"Why didn't I do it at first?" he said; "and that isn't the worst of it--that fellow will think I ran away because I was afraid of him."

This last thought formed the subject upon which Tom dwelt all the way back, and he was still busy over an argument with himself as to whether he had been afraid of the young poacher or no, when, after missing the way two or three times among the firs, he caught sight of the church clock pointing to a quarter to eight.

"Just time to get in," he said, as he increased his pace; and then--"Yes, I suppose it was afraid of him, for he is a good deal bigger and stronger than I am."

"Hullo, Tom! been for a walk?" saluted him, as he was hurrying at last along the lane which divided his uncle's grounds from the new purchase.

Tom looked up quickly, and found that Uncle Richard was looking over the wall of the mill-yard.

"That's right," continued his uncle. "What do you think of the place?"

"Glorious!" said Tom.

"Hungry?"

"Terribly, uncle."

"That's right. Come along, Mrs Fidler's waiting for us by now." _

Read next: Chapter 10

Read previous: Chapter 8

Table of content of Vast Abyss


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book