AN UNLUCKY PICNIC.
"The tom-cat, whom his mistress called 'My little son,' was a great
favourite; he could raise his back, and purr, and could even throw out
sparks from his fur if it were stroked the wrong way."--_The Ugly
Duckling_.
"Now, Jack, do behave yourself!" cried Valentine, as the
basket-carriage turned through two imposing-looking granite gate-posts
into a winding drive which formed the approach to Grenford Manor.
Jack, as usual, seemed to grow particularly obstreperous just when
circumstances demanded a certain amount of decorum, and at that moment
he was kneeling on the narrow front seat belabouring Prince with the
cushion.
"Well," he answered, turning round, "we must drive up to the door in
style; if we come crawling in like this, they'll think we're ashamed of
ourselves."
As he spoke, a curve in the drive brought the house into view. It was
a big, square building, with not the slightest touch of green to
relieve the monotony of the rigid white walls, and level rows of
windows, which seemed to have been placed in position by some precise,
mathematical calculation. A boy was lounging about in front of the
porch, with his hands in his pockets, kicking gravel over the
flower-beds.
"O Val! you said Raymond wasn't at home," murmured Helen.
"Well, Aunt Mab said he was going to London; he must have put off his
visit."
Raymond Fosberton turned at the sound of the carriage-wheels, and
sauntered forward to meet the visitors. He had black hair, and a very
pink and white complexion. To say that he looked like a girl would be
disparaging to the fair sex, but his face would at once have impressed
a careful observer as being that of a very poor specimen of British
boyhood.
"Hallo!" he said, without removing his hands from his pockets, "so
you've turned up at last! You've been a beastly long time coming!"
He shook hands languidly with Valentine and the two girls, but greeted
Jack with a cool stare, which the latter returned with interest.
Grenford Manor was very different from Brenlands. Aunt Isabel was
fussy and querulous, while Mr. Fosberton was a very ponderous gentlemen
in more senses than one. He had bushy grey whiskers and a very red
face, which showed up in strong contrast to a broad expanse of white
waistcoat, which was in turn adorned with a massive gold chain and
imposing bunch of seals.
"Well, young ladies, and how are you?" he began in a deep, sonorous
voice, of which he was evidently rather proud. "How are you,
Valentine? So this is Basil's son?--hum! What's your father doing
now?"
"I don't know," answered Jack, glancing at the clock. "I expect he's
having his dinner, though there's no telling, for we're always a bit
late at home."
Mr. Fosberton stared at the boy, cleared his throat rather vigorously,
and then turned to speak to Helen.
Lunch was a very dry and formal affair. Raymond spoke to nobody, his
father and mother addressed a few words to Valentine and the girls, but
Jack was completely ignored. The latter, instead of noticing this
neglect, pegged away merrily at salmon and cold fowl, and seemed
devoutly thankful that no one interrupted his labours by forcing him to
join in the conversation.
"You may tell your father," said Mr. Fosberton to Valentine, "that I
find his family are related to one of the minor branches of my own;
I've no doubt he will be pleased to hear it. His father's sister
married a Pitsbury, a second cousin of the husband of one of the
Fosbertons of Cranklen. You'll remember, won't you?"
Valentine said he would, and looked scared.
The silver spoons and forks were all ornamented with the Fosberton
crest--a curious animal, apparently dancing on a sugar-stick.
"What is it?" whispered Barbara to Jack.
"The sea-cook's dog," answered her cousin.
"But what's he doing?"
"He's stolen the plum-duff, and the skipper's sent him up to ride on a
boom, and he's got to stay there till he's told to come down."
At last the weary meal was over.
"I suppose we may have the boat," said Valentine.
"Oh, yes. I'm coming with you myself," answered Raymond; which
announcement was received by Miss Barbara with an exclamation of
"Bother!" which, fortunately, was only overheard by Jack, who smiled,
and pinched her under the table.
It did not take long to transport the provisions and materials from the
pony-carriage to the boat, and the party were soon under way. It was a
splendid afternoon for a river excursion. Raymond, who had not offered
to carry a thing on their way to the bank, lolled comfortably in the
stern, leaving the other boys to do the work, and the girls to
accommodate themselves as best they could. He was evidently accustomed
to having his own way, and assumed the position of leader of the
expedition.
"Have you finished school?" asked Jack.
"I don't go to one," answered the other; "I have a private tutor. I
think schools are awful rot, where you're under masters, and have to do
as you're told, like a lot of kids. I'm seventeen now. I'm going
abroad this winter to learn French, then I'm coming home to read for
the law. I say, why don't you row properly?"
"So I do."
"No, you don't; you feather too high."
"There you go again," continued the speaker petulantly a few moments
later; "that's just how the Cockneys row."
"Sorry," said Jack meekly. "Look here, d'you mind showing me how it
ought to be done?"
Raymond scrambled up and changed places with Jack. "There," he
said--"that's the way--d'you see? Now, try again."
"No, thanks," answered Jack sweetly, "I'd rather sit here and watch
you; it's rather warm work. I think I'll stay where I am."
Raymond did not seem to relish the joke, but it certainly had the
wholesome effect of taking him down a peg, and rendering him a little
less uppish and dictatorial for the remainder of the journey.
At Starncliff the right bank of the river rose rocky and precipitous
almost from the water's edge. There was, however, a narrow strip of
shore, formed chiefly of earth and shingle; and here the party landed,
making the boat fast to the stump of an old willow.
"We promised Queen Mab that we wouldn't be very late," said Valentine,
"so I should think we'd better have tea at once; it'll take some time
to make the water boil."
There is always some special charm about having tea out of doors, even
when the spout of the kettle gets unsoldered, or black beetles invade
the tablecloth. To share one teaspoon between three, and spread jam
with the handle-end of it, is most enjoyable, and people who picnic
with a full allowance of knives and forks to each person ought never to
be allowed to take meals in the open. Jack and Valentine set about
collecting stones to build a fireplace, and there being plenty of dry
driftwood about, they soon had a good blaze for boiling the water. The
girls busied themselves unpacking the provisions; but Raymond Fosberton
was content to sit on the bank and throw pebbles into the river.
The repast ended, the kettle and dishes were once more stowed away in
the boat, and Valentine proposed climbing the cliff.
"It looks very steep," said Helen.
"There's a path over there by those bushes," answered her brother.
"Come along; we'll haul you up somehow."
The ascent was made in single file, and half-way up the party paused to
get their breath.
"Hallo!" cried Jack, "there's a magpie."
On a narrow ledge of rock and earth at the summit of the cliff two tall
fir-trees were growing, and out of the top of one of these the bird had
flown. The children stood and watched it, with its long tail and sharp
contrast of black and white feathers, as it sailed away across the
river.
"One for sorrow," said Helen.
"I shouldn't like to climb that tree," said Valentine. "It makes my
head swim to look at it, leaning out like that over the precipice."
"Pooh!" answered Raymond; "that's nothing. I've climbed up trees in
much worse places before now."
Helen frowned, and turned away with an impatient twitch of her lips.
Jack saw the look. "All right, Master Fosberton," he said to himself;
"you wait a minute."
They continued their climb, and reaching the level ground above
strolled along until they came opposite the tall tree out of which the
magpie had flown.
"There's the nest!" cried Jack, pointing at something half hidden in
the dark foliage of the fir. "Now, then, who'll go up and get it?"
"No one, I should think," said Helen. "If you fell, you'd go right
down over the cliff and be dashed to pieces."
"I know I wouldn't try," added her brother. "I should turn giddy in a
moment."
"Will you go?" asked Jack, addressing Raymond.
"No," answered the other.
"Why, I thought you said a moment ago that you've climbed trees in much
worse places. Come, if you'll go up, I will."
"Not I," retorted Raymond sulkily; "it's too much fag."
"Oh, well, if you're afraid, I'll go up alone."
"Don't be such a fool, Jack," said Valentine; "there won't be any eggs
or young birds in the nest now."
"Never mind; I should like to have a look at it."
Fenleigh J. of the Upper Fourth was a young gentleman not easily turned
from his purpose, and, in spite of Valentine's warning and the
entreaties of his girl cousins, he lowered himself down on to the
ledge, and the next moment was buttoning his coat preparatory to making
the attempt.
For the first twelve or fifteen feet the trunk of the fir afforded no
good hold, but Jack swarmed up it, clinging to the rough bark and the
stumps of a few broken branches. The spectators held their breath; but
the worst was soon passed, and in a few seconds more he had gained the
nest.
"There's nothing in it," he cried; "but there's a jolly good view up
here, and, I say, if you want a good, high dive into the river, this is
the place. Come on, Raymond; it's worth the fag."
"Oh, do come down!" exclaimed Helen. "It frightens me to watch you."
She turned away, and began picking moon daisies, when suddenly an
exclamation from Valentine caused her to turn round again.
"Hallo! what's the matter?"
Jack had just begun to slip down the bare trunk, but about a quarter
way down he seemed to have stuck.
"My left foot's caught somehow," he said. "I can't get it free."
He twitched his leg, and endeavoured to regain the lower branches, but
it was no good.
"Oh, do come down!" cried Helen, clasping her hands and turning pale.
"Can't any one help him?"
Jack struggled vainly to free his foot.
"Look here," he said in a calm though strained tone, "my boot-lace is
loose, and has got entangled with one of these knots; one of you chaps
must come up and cut it free. Make haste, I can't hang on much longer."
[Illustration: "'Make haste! I can't hang on much longer.'" (missing
from book)]
Valentine turned to Raymond.
"You can climb," he said; "I can't."
"I'm not going up there," answered the other doggedly, and turned on
his heel.
Valentine wheeled round with a fierce look upon his face, threw off his
coat, took out his knife, opened it, and put it between his teeth.
"O Val!" cried Helen in a choking voice, and hid her face in her hands.
Only Barbara had the strength of nerve to watch him do it, and could
give a clear account afterwards of how her brother swarmed up the
trunk, and held on with one arm while he cut the tangled lace.
Valentine himself knew very little of what happened until he found
himself back on the grass with Helen's arms round his neck.
"I thought you couldn't climb," said Jack, a minute later.
"It's possible to do most things when it comes to a case like that,"
answered the other quietly. "Besides, I remembered not to look down."
That sort of answer didn't suit Fenleigh J.; he caught hold of the
speaker, and smacked him on the back.
"Look here, Valentine, the truth is you're a jolly fine fellow, and I
never knew it until this moment."
The party strolled on across the field.
"It's precious hot still," said Raymond; "let's go and sit under that
hayrick and rest."
"We mustn't stay very long," Helen remarked as they seated themselves
with their backs against the rick. "We want to be home in time for
supper."
"We can stay long enough for a smoke, I suppose," said Fosberton,
producing a cigarette case. "Have one. What! don't you chaps smoke?
Well," continued the speaker patronizingly, "you're quite right; it's a
bad habit to get into. Leave it till you've left school."
"And then, when you smoke before ladies," added Helen, "ask their
permission first."
"Oh, we haven't come here to learn manners," said Raymond, with a snort.
"So it appears," returned the lady icily.
Fenleigh J., who had been smarting under that "Leave it till you've
left school," chuckled with delight, and began to think that he liked
Helen quite as much as Barbara.
At length, when Raymond had finished his cigarette, the voyagers rose
to return to the boat. Jack enlivened the descent of the cliff by
every dozen yards or so pretending to fall, and starting avalanches of
stones and earth, which were very disconcerting to those who went
before. On arriving at the shingly beach, he proposed a trial of skill
at ducks and drakes, and made flat pebbles go hopping right across the
river, until Valentine put an end to the performance by saying it was
time to embark. The girls were just stepping into the boat when Helen
gave an exclamation of surprise.
"Look!" she cried, pointing towards the top of the cliff, "where can
all that smoke be coming from?"
"It's a heap of rubbish burning in one of the fields," said Raymond.
"There's too much smoke for that," said Jack. "It may be a barn or a
house. Wait a moment; I'll run up and see. I shan't be more than five
or six minutes." He started off, jumping and scrambling up the path;
but almost immediately on reaching the summit he turned and came racing
down again.
"What a reckless beggar he is;" said Valentine. "He'll break his neck
some day. Well, what is it?"
Jack took a flying jump from the path on to the shingle.
"The rick!" he cried--"the one we were sitting under--it's all in a
blaze!"
The boys and girls stood staring at one another with a horrified look
on their faces.
"You must have done it with your matches, Raymond," said Helen.
"I didn't," returned the other. "It's the sun. Come on into the boat."
"You must have dropped your cigarette end," said Valentine. "We ought
to find the owner of the hay and say who we are."
"You fool! I tell you it wasn't me," returned the other passionately.
"Ricks often catch fire of their own accord. I'm not going to be made
pay for what isn't my fault."
Valentine hesitated, and shook his head. Jack seemed ready to side
with him; but Raymond jumped into the boat and seized the oars. "Look
here!" he cried, "it's my boat, and I'm going. It you don't choose to
come, you can stay."
The two boys had no alternative but to obey their cousin's demand.
Jack took the second oar, while Valentine steered. Raymond was ready
enough now for hard work, and pulled away with all his might, evidently
wishing to escape as fast as possible from the neighbourhood of the
burning rick.
"What are you pulling so fast for?" asked Jack; but "stroke" made no
reply, and seemed, if anything, to increase the pace.
"Look out!" cried Valentine, as the boat approached an awkward corner,
one side of which was blocked by the branches of a big tree which had
fallen into the water. "Steady on, Raymond!" "Stroke," who did not
see what was coming, and thought this was only another attempt to
induce him to lessen the speed at which they were going, pulled harder
than ever. Valentine tugged his right-hand line crying, "Steady on, I
tell you!" but it was too late. There was a tremendous lurch which
nearly sent every one into the river, the water poured over the
gunwale, and something went with a sounding crack. Raymond's oar had
caught in a sunken branch and snapped off short. His face turned white
with anger.
"You cad!" he cried with an oath, "you made me do that on purpose."
"I didn't!" answered Valentine hotly; "and I should think you might
know better than to begin swearing before the girls."
Helen looked frightened, but Barbara was sinking with laughter at the
sight of Jack, who, on the seat behind, was silently going through the
motions of punching Master Fosberton's head.
"Well, we can't go on any further," said the latter. "We must get the
boat into that backwater and tie her up. Though it'll be a beastly fag
having to walk to Grenford."
Dividing between them the things which had to be carried, the cousins
made their way through a piece of waste ground studded with
gorse-bushes, and gained the road, which ran close to the river.
Barbara lingered behind to pick Quaker grass, but a few moments later
she came racing after them and caught hold of Jack's arm.
"Hallo!" he said, "what's up? you look scared."
"So I am," she answered. "I saw a man's face looking at me. He was
hiding behind the bushes."
"Fiddles!" answered Jack. "It was only imagination. Come along with
me. I'll carry those plates."
Raymond Fosberton seemed bent on making himself as disagreeable as
possible. He was still in a great rage about the broken oar, and
lagged behind, refusing to speak to the rest of the party.
"We ought not to let him walk by himself," said Helen, after they had
gone about a mile; "it looks as if we wanted to quarrel."
She stopped and turned round, but Raymond was nowhere in sight. They
waited, but still he did not appear.
"He can't be far behind," said Valentine. "I heard him kicking stones
a moment or so ago."
Jack walked back to the last bend in the road and shouted, but there
was no reply.
"It's a rum thing," he said, as he rejoined his companions. "I wonder
what has become of the beggar. I thought just then I heard him
talking."
The boys shouted again, and Barbara drew a little closer to Jack.
Whether the watching face was imagination or not, she had evidently
been frightened.
"Surly brute! he has gone home by a short cut," said Jack. "Come
along! it's no use waiting."
They had not gone very far when they heard somebody running, and
turning again saw their missing cousin racing round the corner. His
face was pale and agitated, and it was evident that something was the
matter.
"Hallo! where have you been?"
"Nowhere. I only stopped to tie my shoe-lace."
"But you must have heard us calling?"
"I never heard a sound," answered Raymond abruptly, and so the matter
ended.
The four Fenleighs were not at all sorry to find themselves free of
their cousin's society, and bowling along behind Prince in the little
basket-carriage. It was still more delightful to be back once more at
Brenlands, and there, round the supper-table, to give Queen Mab an
account of their adventures.
"I should like to know who that man was whom I saw hiding among the
bushes," said Barbara.
"I should like to know what Raymond was up to when we missed him coming
home," said Valentine.
"Yes," added Jack thoughtfully; "he was hiding away somewhere, for I
could have sworn I heard his voice when I walked back to the corner."