"Yee-up, Jinkum! Yee-up!"
The exclamations were accompanied by the thwack of a stick over the hips
of a donkey half-hidden under a pair of panniers.
"Don't press the poor creetur, Jack. It be a hardish climb up the
pitch. Gie't its time."
"But you know, Winny, the panners be most nigh empty--more's the pity."
"True o' that. But consider how fur's been the day. Seven mile to
Monnerth--a good full load goin'--an' same back, whens we be home. An't
han't had thing to eat, 'cept the pickin's 'long the roadside."
"All the more reezun for gittin' 'im soon home. I'd lay wager, if the
anymal kud speak, 't 'ud say the same."
"Might. But, for all that, him's rightdown tired. If him want, there
wud be no need yer slappin' he. Don't slap him any more, Jack."
"Well, I won't. Yee-up, Jinkum! I 'ant a-goin' to gi' ye the stick
agen. 'Nother mile, and ye'll be back to yer own bit o' paster in the
ole orchart, whar the grass'll be up to yer ears. Yee-up!"
At which Jinkum, as though comprehending the merciful disposition
towards him, and grateful for it, seemed to improve his pace.
The speakers were a man and woman, both of uncommon appearance--the man
a diminutive specimen of humanity, who walked with a jerking gait, due
to his having a wooden leg. The woman was taller than he, by the head
and shoulders quite; while in every other way above the usual dimensions
of her sex. Of a somewhat masculine aspect, she was withal far from
ill-favoured--rather the contrary. Her gown of coarse homespun,
dust-stained and _delabre_, could not conceal a voluptuous outline of
figure; while to have her eyes and hair many a queen would have been
glad to give the costliest jewel in her crown. The complexion was dark,
the features of a gipsy type--though she was not one--the hair, a very
hatful, carelessly coiled around her head, black as the wing of a crow.
The first thought of one beholding her would be: "What a woman, if but
washed and becomingly clad?" For both skin and dress showed something
more than the dust that day caught up from the road--smouches of older
date. Despite all, she was a grand, imposing personage; of tireless
strength, too, as evinced by her easy, elastic step while breasting that
steep pitch on her twenty-second mile since morning. The journey seemed
to have had little effect on her, however it may have jaded Jinkum.
Notwithstanding the disparity in size between the man and woman--a good
deal also in their age, he being much her senior--they bore a certain
resemblance to one another. It lay in their features and complexion;
Jack having a gipsyish look, too. Nor any wonder at their being some
little alike, since they were _not_ man and wife, but brother and
sister--both born Foresters. There was nothing in the character of
either at all disreputable, though their business was such as usually
brings suspicion on those who follow it. Known all over the forest, and
for miles around it, as cadgers, they trafficked in every conceivable
thing by which an honest penny might be made, though their speciality
was the transport of fowls, with other products of the farmyard, to the
markets of Ross and Monmouth--generally on freight account--taking back
such parcels as they could pick up. Ruardean was their port of
departure and return; their home, when they were at home, being a
cottage in the outskirts of that elevated village.
Rarely, if ever, were "Jerky Jack"--the soubriquet his gait had gained
for him--and his big sister seen apart; Winny, or Winifred--for such was
her baptismal name--being a valuable helpmate to him. Some said she was
more--his master.
That day they had been to Monmouth market, and now, at a late hour of
the evening--after sunset--they were climbing Cat's Hill on their return
homeward. As already said, there was then no Kerne bridge, and they had
crossed by the ferry at Goodrich; a roundabout way to where they now
were, but unavoidable--making good the woman's estimate of the distance.
Up the remainder of the pitch, Jerky kept his word, and no more stick
was administered to Jinkum. But before reaching the summit the tired
animal was treated to a spell of rest, for which it might thank a man
there met, or rather one who dropped upon them as from the clouds. For
he had come slithering down a steep shelving bank that bordered the
road, suddenly presenting himself to their view outside the selvage of
bushes.
Notwithstanding his _impromptu_ appearance, neither showed sign of alarm
nor surprise. Evidently they expected him; for but the minute before a
sound resembling the call of the green woodpecker--the "heekul," as
known to them--had reached their ears, causing them to turn their eyes
toward the direction whence it came. From the wood, where, of course,
they could see nothing; but there was a peculiarity in the intonation of
the sound, telling them it proceeded not from the throat of a bird, but
was in some way made by a man. That the woman knew how, and who the
man, she gave evidence by saying, "That be Rob!" as she spoke a pleased
expression coming over her countenance.
Whether Rob or no, he who so mysteriously and fantastically presented
himself to their notice was a man of aspect remarkable as either of
them. In size a Colossus; dark-complexioned like themselves, with full
beard, and thick shock of brown-black hair standing out around his neck
in curls and tangles. His coat of bottle-green cloth--amply skirted--
and red plush waistcoat, showed creased and frowsy, as if he had passed
the previous night, and many preceding it, in a shed or under a tree.
For all, there was something majestic in his mien, just as with the
woman--a savage grandeur independent of garb, which could assert itself
under a drapery of rags.
As the three came together, he was the first to speak, more particularly
addressing himself to Jerky. For the sister had a little side business
to transact, plunging her hand into one of the panniers, and bringing
forth a basket, out of which the neck of a bottle protruded.
"Well, Jack! What's the news down Monnerth way?" was the commencement
of the colloquy.
"Lots, Rob; 'nough if they were wrote out on paper to fill them panners,
an' load the donkey down."
Jinkum's owner was of a humorous turn, and dealt in figures of speech,
often odd and varied as his bills of lading.
"Tell us some o' 'em," requested Rob, placing himself in an attitude to
listen.
"Well," proceeded the cadger, "it be most all 'bout politicks there now,
wi' rumours o' war, they say be a brewin'. The market war full o' them
rough 'uns from Raglan side, Lord Worster's people, bullyin' everybody
an' threetenin' all as wudn't cry out for the King."
"Ay;" here interposed the big sister, with a sneer, "an' you cried it,
Jack--shouted till I was afeerd you'd split yer windpipe. That ye did!"
"And if I did," rejoined Jack, excusing himself, "how war I to help it?
If I hadn't they'd a throttled me; may-be pulled off my wooden leg, and
smashed my skull wi't. An' ye know that, Winny. A man who'd a said
word there favour o' the Parlyment wud a stud good chance o' gettin'
tore limb fro' limb. Tho' I han't two for 'em to tear sunderwise, I
wasn't the fool to go buttin my head 'gainst a wall when no good could
come o't. If I did cry `Long live the King!' I thinked the contrary,
as Rob knows I do."
"That do I, Jack, right well. A true free-born Forester, as myself, I
know you ha' no leanin' like as them o' Monnerth and Lydney; Royalists
an' Papists, who want to make slaves o' us, both body and soul, an' keep
us toilin' for them an' their fine-dressed favourites--devil burn 'em!"
Having thus delivered himself, the free-born Forester dropped
conversation with Jerky, confining it to the sister. For which Jack
gave them an opportunity, shrewdly guessing it was desired. Once more
saluting Jinkum with a "yee-up!" he started the animal off again up the
hill, himself stumping briskly after.