Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Vast Abyss > This page
The Vast Abyss, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 26 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. The Vicar stopped and chatted, taking his seat upon the stool Tom had I before offered, and watched the process of making the speculum for some time before leaving, and then, shaking hands with Tom, he said, smiling-- "Shows how careful one ought to be in suspecting people, Tom Blount. We are none of us perfect. Good-bye." "That's a hint for us, Tom," said Uncle Richard, as soon as they were alone. "Perhaps you are wrong about Master Pete Warboys too." Tom thought about the pears thrown at Pete by his cousin, and shook his head. "Pete wouldn't have been peeping over the wall, uncle, if he had not meant mischief." "Perhaps not, Tom; but he may have meant mischief to you, and not to my pears." Tom laughed, and they soon after went in to dinner. That afternoon, and for an hour and a half in the evening, they worked again at the speculum by lamp-light, so that Tom was pretty tired when they gave up and returned to the cottage. "Going to watch for the fruit burglar to-night, Tom?" asked Uncle Richard. "Oh yes, uncle. I feel ten times as eager now Mr Maxted's plums have been stolen;" and, punctual to the moment, he stole down the garden, walking upon the velvety lawn, and advancing so silently upon David, that the gardener uttered a cry of alarm. "Quite made me jump, Master Tom, coming on me so quiet like." "I thought he might be hanging about," whispered back Tom. "Going to watch from the same place?" "Ay, sir. Couldn't be better. Once we hear him at the pears we can drop upon him like two cats on a mouse." "Yes," said Tom; "but we must mind and not scratch ourselves, David." "Ay, we'll take care o' that, sir. But mind, no talking. Got your stick?" "I stuck it upright in the second black-currant tree. Yes, here it is." "That's right then, sir. There's your place, and I've got something better for you this time. I stuffed two sacks full o' hay, and you can sit down now like on a cushion, and pull the horse-cloth you'll find folded up over you." "But what about you?" "Oh, I've got one too, sir. I'm all right. Now then--mum!" The hay made a faint sound as they both sat down after a glance round and listening intently. Then Tom pulled the horse-cloth up over his knees, for the night was chilly, and found it very warm and comfortable. Then the various sounds from the village reached him--the barking of dogs, voices, the striking of the clock, the noise of wheels, the donkey's braying, with a regularity wonderfully like that of the previous night, and then all silence and darkness, and ears strained to hear the rustling sound which must be made by any one climbing over the wall. The time glided on; and as it grew colder, Tom softly drew the rug cloak-fashion over his shoulders, listened to note whether David made any remark about the rustling sound he made, but all the gardener said was something which resembled the word _ghark_, which was followed by very heavy breathing. "Gone to sleep again," said Tom to himself. "What's the good of his pretending to sit and watch?" He secured his hazel, aimed for where his companion sat in the next alley between the blackcurrants, and gave him a poke with the point. But this had not the slightest effect, and another and another were administered, but without the least result; and thinking that he would have to administer a smart cut to wake up his companion, Tom set himself to watch alone. "Don't matter," he muttered. "I can manage just as well without him." And then he sat in the thick darkness, with his ears strained to catch the slightest noise, thinking over the Vicar's visit that day, and about how he would like to catch Master Pete. It was very warm and comfortable inside the horse-cloth, and must have been close upon nine o'clock, but he had not heard it strike. David was breathing regularly, so loudly sometimes that Tom felt disposed to rouse him up; but each time the breathing became easier, and he refrained. "I don't mind," thought Tom. "I dare say he is very tired, and I don't want to talk to him. He's company all the same, even if he is asleep. Wonder whether this speculum will turn out all right." David was breathing very hard now, but if Pete came he would make too much noise in moving to notice the sound. Besides, he would not suspect that any one was watching out there in the darkness. But the breathing was very loud now, and how warm and cosy and comfortable it was inside the rug! The hay, too, was very soft, and the stick all ready for Master Pete when he came. It would be so easy to hear him too, for David's heavy breathing, that was first cousin to a snore, now ceased, and the slightest sound made by any one coming--and then it was all blank. How long? Tom suddenly started up with but one thought that seemed to crush him. "Why, I've been asleep!" A feeling of rage against himself came over him, and then like a flash his thoughts were off in another direction, for, just in front, he could hear a rustling sound, as if some one was stirring leaves, and, stealing forward, he could just faintly see what appeared like a shadow busy at the Marie Louise pear-tree. "Then he has come," thought Tom, as his hand closed upon the stick he still held. Softly letting the horse-cloth glide from his shoulders, he raised himself gently, feeling horribly stiff, but getting upon his legs without a sound. And all the time there was the rustling, plucking sound going on at the tree upon the wall, as the shadow moved along it slowly. All this was only a matter of moments, and included a thought which came to Tom's busy brain--should he try to awaken David? "If I do," he felt, "there will be noise enough to scare the thief, and he'll escape." There was no time to argue further with himself. He knew that he had been asleep, for how long he could not tell; but his heart throbbed as he felt that he had awakened just in the nick of time, and he was about to act. Keeping in a stooping position, he crept forward foot by foot without making a sound, till he was on the edge of the walk which extended to right and left; beyond it there was about six feet of border, and then the wall with the tree, and almost within reach the figure, more plain to see now, as it bent down evidently searching upon the ground for fallen pears. One stride--a stride taken quick as thought, with the stout hazel stick well raised in the air, just as the figure was stooping lowest. Then-- _Whoosh! Thwack_! A stinging blow, given with all the boy's nervous force, as with a bound he threw all his strength into the cut. "Yah!" A tremendous yell, a rush, and before Tom could get more than one other stroke to tell, the pear-seeker was running along the soft border, evidently making for the far corner of the garden, where the fence took the place of the wall. The chord is shorter than the arc; and this applies to walks in gardens as well as geometry, only people generally call that which amounts to the chord the short cut. Tom took the short cut, so as to meet Pete, but in the darkness he did not pause to think. For a moment all was silent, and the enemy had evidently stopped to hide. "But he must be close here," thought Tom, as he reached the end of the cross walk, past which he felt that the boy must come; and to startle him into showing where he was Tom made a sudden rush. That rush was made too quickly; for he felt himself seized, and before he could do anything, whack! whack! came two cuts on one leg. "Got yer then, have I?" was growled in his ear; and then came loudly, "Master Tom! here! sharp!" "I am here," roared Tom. "What are you doing? Don't." "Master Tom!" "David! But never mind; look sharp! He's close to us somewhere. I saw him under the pear-tree, and got one cut at him." "Got two cuts at him," growled David savagely. "I know yer did. That was me!" "Halloo there! Tom! David! Got him?" "Got him!" growled David. "Got it, you mean. Hi! Yes, sir. Here we are." Uncle Richard was on the way down the path. "What was the meaning of that yell I heard?" he said, as he drew near. Neither replied. "Do you hear, Tom? What was that noise?" "It was a mistake, uncle," cried Tom, rubbing his leg. "Mistake? I said that yell. Oh, here you are." "Yes, uncle; it was a mistake. I hit David in the dark, and he holloaed out." "And enough to make any one, warn't it, sir? Scythes and scithers, it was a sharp 'un!" "I don't think it was any sharper than the two you hit me, David," said Tom, who was writhing a little as he rubbed. "Why, you two have never been so stupid as to attack each other in the dark, have you?" said Uncle Richard. "I'm afraid so, uncle. I saw something by the tree and heard a rustling, and I thought it must be Pete Warboys." "But you should ha' spoke, sir," cried David, from over the other side now. "Mussy on us, you did hit hard." "Yes; I thought it was Pete, and that he had come at last." "Come at last!" grumbled David, as Uncle Richard stood silently shaking with laughter. "Why, he's been--" Just then there was a scratching sound, a flash of light, and a match burned brightly beneath the wall. Then another was struck, throwing up David's figure against the pear-tree, as, shielding the burning splint with his hands, he held it quickly up and down. "What are you doing?" said Uncle Richard, as Tom gave a stamp caused by the pain he felt. "Looking for my pears, sir, as I was when young Master Tom come and hit me. There arn't a single one left." "What!" cried Tom, forgetting the stinging of the cuts on his leg. "Oh, David, don't say they're all gone!" "What shall I say then, sir?" grumbled David; and he then drew in his breath with a hissing sound, and began to rub too. "Do you mean to say the pears have been stolen while you two were keeping watch?" "I dunno, sir," grumbled David. "They're not here now; and I'll take half a davy as they was here at arpus eight." "Then be off home to bed. Pretty watchmen, upon my word," cried Uncle Richard, as he turned off to go up to the house; "it's my belief that you have both been asleep." "And I'm afraid that there's about as near the truth as any one can get, Master Tom," whispered David. "I must ha' been mortal tired to-night. But you needn't have hit a fellow quite so hard." "That's what I feel, David; but being so stupid: that's worse than the stick." "Well, I dunno 'bout that, sir," said David, still rubbing himself; "them hazels is werry lahstick, and you put a deal o' muskle into that first cut." "Well," said Tom mournfully, "I did hit as hard as I could, David." "You did, Master Tom, and no mistake. Feels to me it must have cut right in. But I don't like the master to talk like that. It arn't nice." "Come, Tom! Fasten the gate!" shouted Uncle Richard. "Yes, uncle; I'm coming. Now, David, off home." "Yes, sir, I'm a-goin'; but after all this trouble to lose them pears. Oh, Master Tom, it's that there as makes me feel most sore!" But David kept on rubbing himself gently all the same. "Pretty pair, 'pon my word!" said Uncle Richard, as Tom came blinking into the light just as the clock was striking ten. "Then you couldn't keep awake?" "No, uncle. I suppose I must have been very tired to-night." "The Vicar's plums last night; my pears to-night. Humph! It's time that young fruit pirate was caught." _ |
||