Vane felt for the moment quite startled, the place being so silent and
solitary, but the idea of danger seemed to him absurd, and he stood
watching the shadow till all doubt of its being human ceased, for an arm
was raised and then lowered as if a signal was being made.
"What can it mean?" he thought. And then:--"I'll soon see."
Just as he had made up his mind to walk forward, there was a slight
movement and a sharp crack as of a twig of dead wood breaking under the
pressure of a foot, and he who caused the sound, feeling that his
presence must be known, stepped out from behind the tree.
"Why, I fancied it was Distie," said Vane to himself with a feeling of
relief that he would have found it hard to explain, for it was one of
the gipsy lads approaching him in a slow, furtive way.
"Thought they were gone long enough ago," he said to himself; and then
speaking: "Hi! you, sir; come here!--Make him try and dig some up.
Wonder they don't hunt for truffles themselves," he added. "Don't think
they are wholesome, perhaps."
The lad came slowly toward him, but apparently with great unwillingness.
"Come on," cried Vane, "and I'll give you a penny. Hallo! Here's the
other one!"
For the second lad came slouching along beneath the trees.
"Here, you two," cried Vane, waving his trowel; "come along and dig up
some of these. That's right. You've got sticks. You can do it with
the points."
The second boy had come into sight from among the trees to Vane's left,
and advanced cautiously now, as if doubtful of the honesty of his
intentions.
"That's right," cried Vane. "Come along, both of you, and I'll give you
twopence a piece. Do you hear? I shan't hurt you."
But they did not hasten their paces, advancing very cautiously, stick in
hand, first one and then the other, glancing round as if for a way of
escape, as it seemed.
"Why, they're as shy as rabbits," thought Vane, laughing to himself.
"It's leading such a wild life, I suppose. Here," he cried to the first
lad, who was now within a yard of him, while the other was close behind;
"see these? I want some of them. Come on, and I'll show you how to
find them. Why, what did you do that for?"
Vane gave a bound forward, wincing with pain, for he had suddenly
received a heavy blow on the back from the short cudgel the boy behind
him bore, and as he turned fiercely upon him, thrusting the trowel into
his basket and doubling his fist to return the blow, the first boy
struck him heavily across the shoulder with his stick.
If the gipsy lads imagined that the blows would cow Vane, and make him
an easy victim for the thrashing they had evidently set themselves to
administer, they were sadly mistaken. For uttering a cry of rage as the
second blow sent a pang through him, Vane dashed down his basket and
trowel, spun round and rushed at his second assailant, but only to
receive a severe blow across one wrist while another came again from
behind.
"You cowards!" roared Vane; "put down those sticks, or come in front."
The lads did neither, and finding in spite of his rage the necessity for
caution, Vane sprang to a tree, making it a comrade to defend his back,
and then struck out wildly at his assailants.
So far his efforts were in vain. Sticks reach farther than fists, and
his hands both received stinging blows, one on his right, numbing it for
the moment and making him pause to wonder what such an unheard-of attack
could mean.
Thoughts fly quickly at all times, but with the greatest swiftness in
emergencies, and as Vane now stood at bay he could see that these two
lads had been watching him for some time past, and that the attack had
only been delayed for want of opportunity.
"I always knew that gipsies could steal," he thought, "but only in a
little petty, pilfering way. This is highway robbery, and if I give
them all I've got they will let me go."
Then he considered what he had in his pockets--about seven shillings,
including the half-pence--and a nearly new pocket-knife. He was just
coming to the conclusion that he might just as well part with this
little bit of portable property and escape farther punishment, when one
of the boys made a feint at his head and brought his stick down with a
sounding crack, just above his left knee, while the other struck him on
the shoulder.
Vane's blood was up now, and forgetting all about compromising, he
dashed at one of his assailants, hitting out furiously, getting several
blows home, in spite of the stick, and the next minute would have torn
it from the young scoundrel's grasp if the other had not attacked him so
furiously behind that he had to turn and defend himself there.
This gave the boy he was beating time to recover himself, and once more
Vane was attacked behind and had to turn again.
All this was repeated several times, Vane getting far the worst of the
encounter, for the gipsy lads were as active as cats and wonderfully
skilful at dealing blows; but all the same they did not escape
punishment, as their faces showed, Vane in his desperation ignoring the
sticks and charging home with pretty good effect again and again.
"It's no good; I shall be beaten," he thought as he now protected
himself as well as he could by the shelter afforded by the tree he had
chosen, though poor protection it was, for first one and then the other
boy would dart in feinting with his stick and playing into the other's
hand and giving him an opportunity to deliver a blow. "I shall have to
give in, and the young savages will almost kill me."
And all this time he was flinching, dodging and shrinking here and
there, and growing so much exhausted that his breath came thick and
fast.
"Oh, if I only had a stick!" he panted, as he avoided a blow on one side
to receive one on the other; and this made him rush savagely at one of
the lads; but he had to draw back, smarting from a sharp blow across the
left arm, right above the elbow, and one which half numbed the member.
But though he cast longing eyes round, there was no sticks save those
carried by the boys, who, with flashing eyes, kept on darting in and
aiming wherever they could get a chance. There was one fact, however,
which Vane noticed, and which gave him a trifle of hope just when he was
most despairing: his adversaries never once struck at his head,
contenting themselves by belabouring his arms, back and legs, which
promised to be rendered quite useless if the fight went on.
And all the time neither of the gipsy lads spoke a word, but kept on
leaping about him, making short runs, and avoiding his blows in a way
that was rapidly wearing him out.
Should he turn and run? No, he thought; they would run over the ground
more swiftly than he, and perhaps get him down.
Then he thought of crying for help, but refrained, for he felt how
distant they were from everyone, and that if he cried aloud he would
only be expending his breath.
And lastly, the idea came again that he had better offer the lads all he
had about him. But hardly had the thought crossed his brain, than a
more vicious blow than usual drove it away, and he rushed from the
shelter of the tree-trunk at the boy who delivered that blow. In trying
to avoid Vane's fist, he caught his heel, staggered back, and in an
instant his stick was wrested from his hand, whistled through the air,
and came down with a sounding crack, while what one not looking on might
have taken to be an echo of the blow sounded among the trees.
But it was not an echo, only the real thing, the second boy having
rushed to his brother's help, and struck at Vane's shoulder, bringing
him fiercely round to attack in turn, stick-armed now, and on equal
terms. For Vane's blow had fallen on the first boy's head, and he went
down half-stunned and bleeding, to turn over and then begin rapidly
crawling away on hands and knees.
Vane saw this, and he forgot that he was weak, that his arms were numbed
and tingling, and that his legs trembled under him. If victory was not
within his grasp, he could take some vengeance for his sufferings; and
the next minute the beechen glade was ringing with the rattle of stick
against stick, as in a state of blind fury now, blow succeeded blow,
many not being fended off by the gipsy lad's stick, but reaching him in
a perfect hail on head, shoulders, arms, everywhere. They flew about
his head like a firework, making him see sparks in a most startling way
till Vane put all his remaining strength into a tremendous blow which
took effect upon a horizontal bough; the stick snapped in two close to
his hand, and he stood defenceless once more, but the victor after all,
for the second boy was running blindly in and out among the trees, and
the first was quite out of sight.
As he grasped the position, Vane uttered a hoarse shout and started in
pursuit, but staggered, reeled, tried to save himself, and came down,
heavily upon something hard, from which he moved with great rapidity and
picked up to look at in dismay.
It was the trowel.
A faint, rustling sound amongst the leaves overhead roused Vane to the
fact that he must have been sitting there some time in a giddy,
half-conscious state, and, looking up, he could see the bright eyes of a
squirrel fixed upon him, while its wavy bushy tail was twitching, and
the little animal sounded as if it were scolding him for being there;
otherwise all was still, and, in spite of his sufferings, it seemed very
comical to Vane that the pretty little creature should be abusing him,
evidently looking upon him as a thief come poaching upon the winter
supply of beech-nuts.
Then the giddy feeling grew more oppressive, the trees began to slowly
sail round him, and there appeared to be several squirrels and several
branches all whisking their bushy tails and uttering that peculiar sound
of theirs--_chop, chop, chop_,--as if they had learned it from the noise
made by the woodman in felling trees.
What happened then Vane did not know, for when he unclosed his eyes
again, it was to gaze at the level rays of the ruddy sun which streamed
in amongst the leaves and twigs of the beeches, making them glorious to
behold.
For a few minutes he lay there unable to comprehend anything but the
fact that his head was amongst the rough, woody beech-mast, and that one
hand grasped the trowel while the other was full of dead leaves; but as
his memory began to work more clearly and he tried to move, the sharp
pains which shot through him chased all the mental mists away and he
sprang up into a sitting posture unable to resist uttering a groan of
pain as he looked round to see if either of the gipsy boys was in sight.