I trust that, from what he has already seen and heard of Ransey Tansey,
the reader will not imagine I desire this little hero of mine to pose as
a real saint. Boys should be boys while they have the chance. Alas,
they shall grow up into men far too soon, and then they needn't go long
journeys to seek for sorrow; they will find it near home.
And now I think, reader, you and I understand each other, to some extent
at all events. Though I believe he was always manly and never mean,
yet, as his biographer, I am bound to confess that there was just as
much monkey-mischief to the square inch about Ransey Tansey, as about
any boy to whom I have ever had the honour of being introduced.
It was said of the immortal George Washington that when a boy at school
he climbed out of a bedroom window and robbed a wall fruit tree, because
the other boys were cowards and afraid to do so. But George refused to
eat even a bite of one of these apples himself. I think that Ransey
Tansey could have surpassed young Washington; for not only would he have
taken the apples, but eaten his own share of them afterwards.
To do him justice, however, I must state that on occasions when his
father went in the barge to a distant town on business, as he had been
now for over a week, Ransey being left in charge of his tiny sister and
the whole establishment, the sense of his great responsibility kept him
entirely free from mischief.
Now a very extraordinary thing happened on this particular morning--
Ransey Tansey received a letter.
The postman was sulky, to say the least of it.
"Pretty thing," he said, as he flung the letter with scant ceremony in
through the open doorway; "pretty thing as I should have to come
three-quarters of a mile round to fetch a letter to the likes o' you!"
"Now, look 'ee here," said Ransey, "if ye're good and brings my letters
every day, and hangs yer stockin' out at Christmas-time, I may put
somethin' in it."
"Gur long, ye ragged young nipper!"
Ransey was dandling Babs upon his knee, but he now put her gently down
beside the cat. Then he jumped up.
"I'se got to teach you a lesson," he said to the boorish postman, "on
the hadvantages o' civeelity. I ain't agoin' to waste a good pertater
on such a sconce as yours, don't be afeard; but 'ere's an old turmut
[turnip] as'll meet the requirements o' the occasion."
It was indeed an old turnip, and well aimed too, for it caught the
postman on the back of the neck and covered him with slush from head to
toe.
The lout yelled with rage, and flew at Ransey stick in hand. Next
moment, and before he could deal the boy a blow, he was lying flat on
the grass, with Bob standing triumphantly over him growling like a wild
wolf.
"Call off yer dog, and I won't say no more about it."
"Oh, ye won't, won't ye? I calls that wery considerate. But look 'ee
here, I ain't agoin' to call Bob off, until ye begs my parding in a
spirit o' humility, as t'old parson says. If ye don't, I'll hiss Bob on
to ye, and ye'll be a raggeder nipper nor me afore Bob's finished the
job to his own satisfaction."
Well, discretion is the better part of valour, and after grumbling out
an apology, the postman was allowed to sneak off with a whole skin.
Then Ransey kissed Bob's shaggy head, and opened his letter.
"Dear Sonnie,--Can't get home before four days. Look after Babs.
Your Loving Father."
That was all. The writing certainly left something to be desired, but
it being the first letter the boy had ever received, he read it twice
over to himself and twice over to Babs; then he put it away inside his
New Testament.
"Hurrah, Babs!" he cried, picking the child up again, and swinging her
to and fro till she laughed and kicked and crowed with delight--"hurrah,
Babs! we'll all away to the woods. Murrams shall keep house, and we'll
take our dinner with us."
It was a droll procession. First walked Bob, looking extremely solemn
and wise, and carrying Ransey's fishing-rod. Close behind him came the
tall and graceful crane, not quite so solemn as Bob; for he was catching
flies, and his head and neck were in constant motion, and every now and
then he would hop, first on one leg, and then on the other. Ransey
Tansey himself brought up the rear, with a small bag slung in front of
him, and Babs in a shawl on his back.
Away to the woods? Yes; and there was a grand little stream there, and
the boy knew precisely where the biggest fish lay, and meant to have
some for supper. The leveret could hang for a few days.
Arrived at his fishing-ground, where the stream swept slowly through the
darkling wood, Ransey lowered his back-burden gently on the moss, and
lay down on his face in front of her to talk Babs into the best of
tempers.
This was not difficult to do, for she was really a good-natured child;
so he gave her his big clasp-knife and his whistle, and proceeded to get
his rod in order and make a cast. Bob lay down beside the tiny mite to
guard her. She could whistle herself, but couldn't get Bob to do the
same, although she rammed the whistle halfway down his throat, and
afterwards showed him how she did it.
Well, there are a few accomplishments that dogs cannot attain to, and I
believe whistling is one of them.
The fish were very kind to-day, and Ransey was making a very good bag.
Whenever he had finished fishing in about forty yards of stream, he
threw down his rod and trotted off back for Babs, and placed her down
about twenty yards ahead of him, fished another forty yards and changed
her position again, Bob always following close at the boy's heels and
lying down beside his charge, and permitting himself to be pulled about,
and teased, and cuddled, and kissed one moment, and hammered over the
nose with that tin whistle the next. Even when Babs tried to gouge his
eye out with a morsel of twig, he only lifted his head and licked her
face till, half-blinded, she had to drop the stick and tumble on her
back.
"You's a funny dog, Bob," she said; "'oor tisses is so lough [rough]."
Of course they were. He meant them to be, for Bob couldn't afford to
lose an eye.
I think the Admiral enjoyed himself quite as much as any one. He chose
a bit of the stream for himself where the bank was soft, and there he
waded and fished for goodness only knows what--beetles, minnows, tiny
frogs, anything alive and easy to swallow.
I don't think, however, that the Admiral was a very good Judge of his
swallowing capabilities. That neck of his was so very, very long, and
though distensible enough on the whole, sometimes he encountered
difficulties that it was almost impossible to surmount. Tadpoles slid
down easily enough, so did flies and other tiny insects; but a too-big
frog, if invited to go down head-foremost, often had a disagreeable way
of throwing his hind-legs out at right angles to the entrance of the
Admiral's gullet. This placed the Admiral in a somewhat awkward
predicament. No bird can look his best with its beak held forcibly
agape, and the two legs of a disorderly frog sticking out one at each
side.
The crane would hold his head in the air and consider for a bit, then
lower his face against the bank and rub one leg in, then change cheeks
and rub the other in; but lo! while doing so, leg number one would be
kicked out again, and by the time that was replaced out shot leg number
two.
It was very annoying and ridiculous. So the Admiral would step
cautiously on to the green bank, and stride very humbly down the stream
to Ransey Tansey, with his neck extended and his head on a level with
his shoulders.
"You see the confounded fix I'm in," he would say, looking up at his
master with one wonderfully wise eye.
Then Ransey would pull out the frog, and the little rascal would hop
away, laughing to himself apparently.
"Crok--crok--cray--ay!" the Admiral would cry, and go joyfully back to
his fishing-ground.
But sometimes Mr Crane would swallow a big water-beetle, and if this
specimen had a will of its own, as beetles generally have, it would
catch hold of the side of the gullet and hang on halfway down.
"I ain't going another step," the beetle would say; "it isn't good
enough. The road is too long and too dark."
So this disobliging beetle would just stop there, making a kind of a
mump in the poor Admiral's neck.
When Ransey saw his droll pet stride out of the pool and walk solemnly
towards a tree and lean his head against it, and close his eyes, the lad
knew pretty well what was the matter.
There is nothing like patience and plenty of it, and presently the
beetle would go to sleep, relax its hold, and slip quietly down to
regions unknown. There would be no more mump now, and the crane would
suddenly take leave of his senses with joy.
"Kaik--kaik--kay--ay?" he would scream, and go madly hopping and dancing
round the tree, a most weird and uncanny-looking object, raising one leg
at a time as high as he could, and swinging his head and neck fore and
aft, low and aloft, from starboard to port, in such a droll way that
Ransey Tansey felt impelled to throw himself on his back, so as to laugh
without bursting that much-prized solitary suspender of his, while Bob
sat up to bark, and Babs clapped her tiny hands and crowed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ransey got tired of fishing at last, and made up his rod. There was
some sort of silent joy or happiness away down at the bottom of the
boy's heart, and for a moment he couldn't make out what was causing it.
The big haul of fish he had caught? Oh, no; that was a common exploit.
Having smashed the postman with a mushy turnip? That was capital, of
course, but that wasn't it. Ah! now he has remembered--father was
coming home in four days. Hurrah! he must have some fun on the head of
it. Ransey loved to have a good time.
But, duty first. Babs was a good little girl--or a "dood 'ittle dirl,"
as she phrased it--but even good girls get hungry sometimes. Babs must
be fed. She held her arms straight out towards him.
"Babs is detting tired," she lisped.
So he took her up, kissed her, and made much of her for a minute, then
set her against a tree where the moss was green and soft. With a bit of
string and a burdock leaf he made her a beautiful bib; for though Ransey
himself was scantily attired, the child was really prettily dressed.
And now the boy produced a pickle bottle from the luncheon bag, likewise
a small horn spoon. The pickle bottle contained a pap of bread and
milk; and with this he proceeded to feed Babs somewhat after the manner
of cramming turkeys, until she shook her head at last, and declared she
would _never_ eat any more--"Never, never, _never_!"
There was a turnip-field not far off. Now Bob was as fond of raw
turnips as his master. He knew where the field was, too.
"Off ye go for a turmut, Bob; and mind ye bring a big 'un. I'll look
after Babs till ye comes back."
Bob wasn't long gone. He had obeyed his master's instructions to the
very letter--in fact, he had pulled more than six turnips before he
found one to please him. [It is easy to teach a dog this trick, only
stupid farmer folks sometimes don't see the fun of it. Farmer folks are
obtuse.--G.S.] That "turmut" made Bob and Ransey an excellent luncheon,
and Babs had a slice to amuse herself with.
The day was delightfully warm, and the wind soft and balmy. The
sunshine filtered down through a great beech-tree, and wherever it fell
the grass was a brighter green or the dead leaves a lighter brown. Now
and then a May beetle would go droning past; there were flies of all
sorts and sizes, from the gnats that danced in thousands over the bushes
to the great rainbow-like dragonfly that darted hither and thither
across the stream; grasshoppers green and brown that alighted on a leaf
one moment, gave a click the next, and hurled themselves into space; a
blackbird making wild melody not far off; the bold lilt of a chaffinch;
the insolent mocking notes of a thrush; and the coo-cooing of
wood-pigeons sounding mournfully from a thicket beyond the stream.
High up in that beech-tree myriads of bees were humming, though they
could not be seen. No wonder that under such sweet drowsy influences
Babs began to wink and wink, and blink and blink, till finally her wee
head fell forward on her green-bough bib.
Babs was sound asleep.
Book 1--CHAPTER THREE.
"O EEDIE, I'VE FOUND A CHILD."
Ransey Tansey took his tiny sister tenderly up and spread her, as it
were, on the soft moss.
"She's in for a regular forenooner, Bob," said the boy, "and I'm not
sure I don't like Babs just as well when she is asleep. Seems so
innercent-like, you know."
Bob looked as if he really did understand, and tried by means of his
brown eyes and that fag-end of a tail to let his master know that he too
liked Babs best asleep, because then no attempts were made to gouge his
eyes out with pieces of stick, or to ram the business end of a tin
whistle halfway down his throat.
"Bob!" said Ransey.
"Yes, master," said Bob, raising his ears.
"Babs is a sailor's darter, ye know."
Bob assented.
"Well, she ought'er sleep in a hammock."
"To be sure. I hadn't thought of that," said Bob.
"I can make one in a brace o' shakes, and that's sailor langwidge. Now
just keep your eyes on me, Bob."
Ransey Tansey was busy enough for the next five minutes. He took that
shepherd-tartan shawl, and by means of some pieces of string, which he
never went abroad without, soon fashioned it into a neat little hammock.
Two saplings grew near, and by bending a branch downward from each, he
slung that hammock so prettily that he was obliged to stand back for a
little while to smile and admire it.
When he lifted Babs and put her in it, and fastened the two sides of the
hammock across her chest with some more string and a horse-shoe nail, so
that she could not fall out, the whole affair was complete.
"Hush-a-bye, baby, upon the tree-top,
When the wind blown the cradle will rock."
Well, the wind did blow, but ever so softly, and the little hammock
swayed gently to and fro. And the blackbird's voice seemed to sound
more melodiously now; the thrush went farther away; only the wild
pigeons continued to coo, coo, and the bees to hum, high, high up in the
green beech-tree.
No wonder that the baby slept.
"Come along now, Bob. We've a whole hour at least."
The boy placed his rod and bag on the branches of a tree.
"A whole hour, Bob, to do as we likes. No good me askin' that idiot of
an Admiral to watch Babs. He'd only begin scray-scrayin' and hopping
around the hammock, and Babs would wake. I'm goin' to run wild for a
bit, are you?"
And off he bounded, with Bob at his heels.
The Admiral, whose feet were getting cold now, hopped out of the stream,
stretched out his three-foot neck, and looked after them.
"They think they're going to leave me behind, do they? Tok--tok--
tok,"--which in craneish language means "No--no--no."
So away _he_ went next, with his head and his long neck about a yard in
front of him, and his wings expanded. It would have puzzled any one to
have told whether the Admiral was running or flying.
If Ransey Tansey climbed one tree he climbed a dozen. Ransey walked
through the wood with upturned face, and whenever he saw a nest, whether
it belonged to magpie, hawk, or hooded crow, skywards he went to have a
look at it.
He liked to look at the eggs best, and sometimes he brought just one
down in his mouth if four were left behind, because, he thought, one
wouldn't be missed. But even this was sinful; for although birds are
not very good arithmeticians, every one of them can count as far as the
number of its eggs--even a partridge or a wren can.
Sometimes the Admiral wanted to investigate the nests, but Ransey
sternly forbade him. He might dance round the tree as much as he liked,
but he must not fly up.
Bob used to bark at his master as he climbed up and up. Indeed, when
perched on the very, _very_ top of a tall larch-tree Ransey himself
didn't look much bigger than a rook.
Yet I think the ever-abiding sorrow with Bob was not that he had not a
tail worth talking about, but that he could not climb a tree.
Different birds behaved in different ways when Ransey visited their
nests. Thus: a linnet or a robin, flying from its sweet, cosy little
home in a bush of orange-scented furze, would sit and sing at no great
distance in a half-hysterical kind of way, as if it really didn't know
what it was about. A blackbird from a tall thorn-tree or baby spruce,
would go scurrying off, and make the woods resound with her cries of
"beet, beet, beet," till other birds, crouching low on their nests,
trembled with fear lest their turn might come next. A hooded crow would
fly off some distance and perch on a tree, but say nothing: hooded crows
are philosophers. A magpie went but a little distance away, and sat
nodding and chickering in great distress. A hawk would course round and
round in great circles in the air, uttering every now and then a most
distressful scream.
But one day, I must tell you, a large hawk played the lad a very
mischievous trick. Ransey was high up near the top of a tall,
stone-pine-tree, and had hold of a sturdy branch above, being just about
to swing himself in through the needled foliage, when, lo! the stump on
which one foot was resting gave way, leaving him suspended betwixt
heaven and earth, like Mohammed's coffin--and kicking too, because he
could not for some time swing himself into the tree.
Now that hawk needn't have been so precious nasty about it. But he saw
his chance, and went for Ransey straight; and the more the boy shouted
at the hawk, and cried "Hoosh-oo!" at him, the more that hawk wouldn't
leave off. He tore the boy's shirt and back, and cut his suspender
right through, so that with the kicking and struggling his poor little
pants came off and fluttered down to the ground.
Ransey Tansey was only second best that day, and when--a sadder and a
wiser boy--he reached the foot of the tree, he found that Bob had been
engaged in funeral rites--obsequies--for some time. In fact, he had
scraped a hole beneath a furze bush and buried Ransey's pants.
Whether Bob had thought this was all that remained of his master or not,
I cannot say. I only state facts.
But to hark back: after Ransey Tansey had seen all the nests he wanted
to see, he and his two companions rushed off to a portion of the wood
where, near the bank of the stream, he kept his toy ship under a
moss-covered boulder.
He had built this ship, fashioning her out of a pine-log with his knife,
and rigged her all complete as well as his somewhat limited nautical
knowledge permitted him to do. In Ransey's eyes she was a beauty--
without paint.
Before he launched her to-day he looked down at Bob and across at the
Admiral, who was quite as tall as the boy.
"We're going on a long and dangerous voyage, Bob," he said. "There's no
sayin' wot may happen. We may run among rocks and get smashed; we may
get caught-aback-like and flounder,"--he meant founder--"or go down wi'
all han's in the Bay o' Biscay--O."
Bob tried to appear as solemn and sad as the occasion demanded, and let
his fag-end drop groundwards.
But the crane only said "Tok," which on this occasion meant "All
humbug!" for he knew well enough that Ransey Tansey was seldom to be
taken seriously.
Never mind, the barque was launched on the fathomless deep, the summer
breeze filled her sails--which, by the way, had been made out of a piece
of an old shirt of the boy's father's--and she breasted the billows like
a thing of life.
Then as those three young inseparables rushed madly and delightedly
along the bank to keep abreast of the ship, never surely was such
whooping and barking and scray-scraying heard in the woods before.
But disaster followed in the wake of that bonnie barque on this voyage.
I suppose the helmsman forgot to put his helm up at an ugly bend of the
river, so the wind caught her dead aback. She flew stern-foremost
through the water at a furious rate, then her bows rose high in air, she
struggled but for a moment ere down she sank to rise no more, and all on
board must have perished!
When I say she sank to rise no more I am hardly in alignment with the
truth.
The fact is, that although Ransey Tansey could easily have made another
ship with that knife of his, he was afraid he could not requisition some
more shirt for sails.
"Oh, I ain't agoin' to lose her like that, Bob," said Ransey.
Bob was understood to say that _he_ wouldn't either.
"Admiral, ye're considerabul longer nor me in the legs and neck;
couldn't ye wade out and make a dive for her?"