"Whoo-oo-oo-oop!" sang out Philip Inglis.
"Hoop--hoop--hoop!" shouted Fred as loud as he could.
And then both stopped to listen, but not a sound could they hear
anything like a reply. There was a regular deep humming from the gnats
and flies; the twittering of a few distant birds; but with these
exceptions all was solemn silence.
The boys had been out in the woods ever since three o'clock, seeking for
eggs for the cabinet, and had been very successful; but now the sun was
setting, and the last rays were turning the sky overhead into one
glorious golden canopy; the forest shades were getting deeper, and as
Fred said, he would not have cared only it was so dreadfully quiet, and
Harry was lost; and what was worse than all was, they were lost
themselves; and this is how it fell out:
Mr Inglis had been talking about the collection of eggs they had in the
little museum, and said he would go with the boys to Beechy Wood, to see
if they could get a few more specimens; for he particularly wanted two
or three eggs rather difficult to obtain, such as the great spotted
woodpecker's, hawfinch's, and coletit's.
"Oh, do let's go to-day, Papa," said Harry, clapping his hands. "That
will be capital."
"Yes, yes, yes," said Philip.
"No; not to-day," said the Squire; "I have several business matters to
attend to in the town, so you had better play cricket in the field, and
perhaps we may start to-morrow."
Not the least disappointed of the trio was Fred, to whom the very name
of wood sounded romantic; he almost expected to find such a cave as Ali
Baba hit upon when out with his donkey, wood-cutting; or that the place
they went to would be the identical forest where the redbreasts covered
the unfortunate babes over with leaves when they laid down and died.
But it was of no use to be disappointed; they must wait till another
day, and, therefore, they went into the field to play cricket till
dinner-time.
Cricket is a capital game: it looks well to see light, active figures
chasing the ball when the batsman has thrown all his power into the leg
hit, and sent the ball bounding and skimming far away beyond the farther
fielder; then backwards and forwards run the men at the wickets, while
the onlookers cheer and shout at the bowler's prowess, as he stops the
thrown-up ball, and hurls it at the wicket-keeper, who, with apparently
one motion for catching and knocking off the bailes, puts the hard
hitter out.
Ah, it's a noble game, is cricket! it puts muscle on young bones,
sharpness in young eyes, tone in constitution, and a readiness to meet
difficulties and to parry them. Health, that rosy-cheeked goddess,
seems to have chosen the game for her own, and to love to place the
reflection of her own cheeks upon those of the players, and to make them
ruddy brown as well. But, somehow or other, cricket grows to be rather
dull and tedious when the players are idle and will not work.
Everything, if it is worth doing at all, is worth doing well: the heart
must be in it, and it must be done, as the sailors say, "with a will."
When you go to play cricket, it must not happen that you have your mind
out in Beechy Wood seeking for woodpeckers' nests; or else it will be
something the same with you as it was with our lads on that bright July
day, when things would keep going wrong. Harry would bowl too swiftly,
and send the ball right past the wicket ever so far, for Philip to fetch
back; and then, again, Philip would hit so savagely, and make Fred run
so far after the rolling ball, which in its turn was obstinate, and
would keep creeping amongst the long grass, and getting lost; or amongst
the stinging-nettles, where Fred, who did not know their qualities, was
stung, and had to be rubbed with dock leaves, when they could find any,
which, either from idleness or their unrule-like absence, was not for
some time. Then Harry sent the bailes flying with a vicious ball as
soon as Fred went in for his innings, and so they were lost, and had to
be found; and soon after, while Harry was in, Fred threw the ball up so
sharply, that Phil, in catching, missed it, and received a blow in the
stomach that made him lie down and brought the tears into his eyes, as
much from vexation as pain. Then the sun would shine so hotly, and the
flies tease, and the nasty cows had been all over the place where they
generally played; so at last the game of cricket came to a stand-still
till dinner-time; when, having left their bats and stumps in the field,
they went in to the mid-day meal.
After dinner, they returned to the cricket-ground, but matters were
worse than ever: the flies seemed to be savage to think that the boys
had been having a hearty meal while they had been fasting, so they set
to work to see if they could not take it out of them, and began by
attacking Fred, then Harry, then Philip; till at last, what with the
heat, the idle feeling, and the teasing of the flies, the boys gave up
playing in despair, and stood lounging under the great cedar, cross,
tired, and ill-tempered.
"I should like to go to bed," said Fred.
"There's an idle-back," said Harry; "I shouldn't I should like to take
my clothes off, and lie down under a fountain, and let all the nice cool
water trickle and splash all over me. Poof! ain't it hot?"
"I know what I should like to do," said Philip; "I should like to sit
right up there on the top of the cedar, and rock--rock, rock--rock,
backwards and forwards--looking up at the blue sky, and thinking I was a
soft, downy bird."
"Ho! ho! ho!" said Harry. "He'd look like an old cock jackdaw when he's
moulting. Ha! ha! ha! what an old stupid!"
"I don't care," said Philip; "I know it would be nice; wouldn't it,
Fred?"
"Well, but you couldn't sit there; the boughs would break, and you'd
come down," said Fred. "But what makes all that thick bunch of hay and
rags up there? Why, it's a nest, isn't it?"
"So it is," said Harry; "why, I never saw that before. Let's get up and
get it. There's sure to be eggs."
"I shan't," said Phil; "it's too hot."
"What a lazy old chap you are, Phil," said his brother. "It's a
tree-sparrow's nest, and we haven't got a single egg. I mean to go."
Saying which Master Harry stripped off his blouse, threw down his cap,
and commenced operations.
"Don't go, you'll fall," said Fred; "it's ever so high up, and the
boughs won't bear you."
"Pooh!" said Harry, "I can do it;" and running along under the great
branches that stretched away, drooping towards the ground, he gave a
spring, and caught a bough, turned up his heels, and so made his way,
hanging head downwards, to the trunk after the same fashion as he did on
the day of the fishing excursion. On reaching the trunk, he scaled up
from bough to bough, almost as actively as a monkey, till at last he
reached the branch which bore the nest, where he stooped puzzled, for
Mrs and Mr Passer must have had an eye to safety when they constructed
their nest; for unless Master Harry had possessed the activity and
lightness of body of the old cock jackdaw he was so lately talking
about, there was no chance of his getting any of the tree-sparrow's eggs
for his collection.
"Well, why don't you throw the nest down?" said Philip, jeeringly.
"'Cos I can't," said Harry. "Why don't you come and sit up here, and
look at the blue sky, and then perhaps you could? I'm not going on a
thin branch that wouldn't bear a cat."
Whereupon down came Master Harry, all over green, and with the cedar
spines sticking through his shirt, in his hair, and down his back, and
making him shift and shuffle about in a most uncomfortable manner.
"I say," said Harry, "let's go off to the wood."
"Papa wouldn't like it," said Philip; "and besides, we are going
to-morrow."
"Oh! ah! and then perhaps it will rain. Do let's go; we could get the
eggs, and Papa would be so pleased."
"I don't think he would," said Fred. "My Papa would not if I went when
he told me not."
"But he didn't tell us not," said Harry; "and I know he would like the
eggs. I'll go."
"That's right," said Philip, "but I'll go and tell Mamma we are going."
"No, don't," said Harry; "let's tell her when we come back, because she
might say you had better not go."
"I shan't go," said Fred, stoutly.
"There's a sneak," said Harry. "Why, we could show you all sorts of
things. There's the fox's cave; and the waterfall; and the old hollow
tree that holds ten people; and the magpies' nests; and owls, and
wood-pigeons, and turtle-doves."
"And snakes," said Philip.
"Yes," said Harry; "and snakes and adders, and the dark tarn where the
great eels are. But never mind, you can stop; can't he, Phil? we don't
want him. We'll take Dick, and get some rats as we go along. I say,
Fred, you can stay in Dick's kennel, and we'll put the collar round your
neck."
Now Fred wanted to do what was right, and would not blind himself into
the belief that "Papa would be so pleased with the eggs;" for he knew
his uncle would not like them to go off in the way proposed; but he was
not prepared to withstand the temptations held out to him, for they were
enough to turn the head of any town lad. To go to a wood was almost
enough, but one with such wonders in was too much--nests and birds of
such rarity. Fox cavern, waterfall, and a dark tarn, besides catching
rats with the dog; he could not stand all that. And then when the
sarcastic remarks of his cousin were put into the scale he was
completely done for, and, turning quite reckless of the consequences, he
let the scale containing duty fly up into the air, and jumped into the
other with his cousins, and away they ran to loosen Dick. But this was
easier said than done, for Dick could see at a glance that there was
mischief afoot, and nearly ran mad with delight: he barked, he leaped,
he tore at his chain, he tugged so that Harry could not unbuckle his
collar; and when at last it was dragged over his head, turning his ears
inside out, and making his rough hair stand up in a bigger Brutus than
ever, and nearly making him blind, he raced round the yard with his
mouth wide open; dashed at the old raven, and knocked him over before he
could hop upon the wall, where he got at last, and shook the dust off
his feathers with an angry "jark;" while Dick, withy staring eyes and
his tongue hanging out, ran right between Philip's legs, made a feint at
Fred, and then leaped right on Harry, who caught hold of his short
stumpy tail as he went down and dragged him towards the gate.
"Whoop," and away; over the field right to the far corner, where the
cattle drank from the little horse-pond, which was black with
podnoddles, wagging and waving their little tails in their hurry to get
into deep water. "Whoop," and away along the lane; all idleness and
fatigue forgotten, and every nerve strained to reach the wished-for
spot, which was only about two miles from the field where the lads
played at cricket.
"Last man there to have two kicks," said Harry, just as he was well in
front, and starting off at full speed, but passed in a moment by Dick,
who raced away, making believe to discover a treasure every two minutes;
and sniffing and barking at every rat or rabbit hole they passed. Off
and away--Harry in front with Dick, Philip next, and Fred panting in the
rear, hot and out of breath with his run, and asking his companions to
stop.
"Whup! whup! whup! yaff! yaff!" said Dick, as they came up to a field
containing a flock of sheep, heavy with their long wool; and over the
hedge he went headlong amongst them, making the poor timid, stupid
creatures run as fast as their legs would carry them, with their heavy
fleeces touzling and shaking about till each sheep looked like a
magnified thrum mop being shaken to get rid of the water. A fine game
did Dick have of it, for as soon as ever he stopped and gave a farewell
bark--as much as to say, "There, I've done"--and began to retrace his
steps, the sheep would come to a stand-still, stare after him as though
he were some unknown monster, never before seen or heard of, and then
begin to follow him up, slowly at first, but afterwards at a canter.
Now, of course Dick couldn't stand this running away, and all the sheep
apparently in chase of him; so he was obliged to turn round and keep
making charges at the flock; and, consequently, poor Dick, in thus being
so particular about his honour, would never have got out of the field,
for every time he chased the sheep away they followed him up again; and
it was all the fault of one great, black-faced, chuckle-headed wether,
who was so stupid that he couldn't keep quiet, and of course all the
sheep kept following him, for he had a tinkling copper bell attached to
his neck, which seemed to be an especial abhorrence to Dick, from the
way he barked at it. But at last the dog heard a summons that he could
not disobey, namely, a long whistle from his young masters; so making
one last furious charge at the old bell wether, and actually scattering
the forces as he got hold of him by the wool. Dick rushed after his
masters, and caught them at last with a lot of wool in his mouth, which
was entangled in his teeth, and made him cough and sputter dreadfully.
At last they reached the edge of the wood, into which Dick dashed with a
leap and a bound, running his nose down amongst the dead leaves, and
smelling an enemy in every bush, and at last giving chase to a squirrel
which ran across the open to a great beech-tree, up which it scampered
until it reached the forked boughs, where it sat with its tail curled
up, looking tormentingly down upon his pursuer Dick, who rushed headlong
at the tree, scrambled up a couple of feet, and then came down flop upon
his back, without the squirrel of course; but he made up for it by
running round and round the trunk, barking, baying, and snapping in
impotent rage, while little nut-nibbler gave a sort of "skirr," and then
ran up the tree, leaped to the next, and the next, and disappeared in
his hole far up the trunk of a great elm. Harry now took the lead down
the narrow path that led into the wood, parting the tangled branches
every now and then to get through, and all the time looking carefully
round for nests. They very soon heard the harsh cry of the jay, who was
letting all the inhabitants of the woodlands know that enemies were at
hand, and away flew the birds. The blackbird was the first to take the
alarm from the jay, and away he flew, crying, "Kink, kink, kink," as he
started from his nest in a great ivy tod on an old pollard-tree. The
lads soon found the nest, and peeped in, but instead of eggs there were
four wretched-looking little objects, all eyes and beak, with long,
scraggy necks, wide throats, and naked bodies with little downy tufts
upon them. All three had a peep, while Dick snapped his teeth together
as though to say he would like to make a meal of one or all of them; but
the callow brood was left unmolested for their yellow-billed parents to
take care of, while Harry led the way to the fox's cave. This, however,
proved rather a disappointment to Fred, who had been picturing to
himself a huge stalactite cavern, which they would require torches to
explore, while the cave in question proved to be only a hole in the side
of a gravelly ravine, big enough to creep in, certainly, but anything
but majestic in appearance; while the probabilities were that a fox had
never been in it since it was a hole. However, it was called the fox's
cave, and that was enough.
The waterfall was certainly better worthy of attention, for a tiny
stream trickled over a huge mossy rock, and fell with a musical plash
into a little rocky basin full of clear water; and all around it in the
damp soil grew mosses and ferns of luxuriant size. It was just such a
spot as the old poets used to write about--cool, and shaded from the
heat and glare of the sun; but, instead of there being wood-nymphs and
satyrs in the little dell, there was nothing but the three young
visitors, and plenty of toads and frogs which crawled and hopped away as
fast as ever they could.
"Oh, what a pretty place!" said Fred; "do let's stop here. Look, look,"
he exclaimed, "what's that?" as, like a streak of blue light, a bird
with rapid flight came down the dell, perched upon a bare twig just long
enough for the boys to see his bright colours, and then, seeing himself
watched, darted away again.
"That's a kingfisher," said Philip. "He's got a nest here, somewhere, I
know. Let's look, for we must have some of the eggs, if we can.
Perhaps the hen-bird is sitting somewhere close by."
The boys then set to work searching the bushes of the little rivulet
that flowed from the basin, and no doubt their search would have been in
vain, but for the timid hen-bird, who flew out from the hole where, sure
enough, she was sitting, and betrayed the place in which her nest had
been made.
It was a hole in the overhanging bank, and Harry had little difficulty
in thrusting his hand in and drawing out three eggs, which he carefully
deposited in his pocket.
They then followed the course of the rivulet for about a quarter of a
mile to where it emptied itself into the tarn or little lake of which
Harry had spoken. It was indeed a dark tarn, with water looking almost
black from its depth, which was said to be enormous, and here some
gigantic eels were supposed to dwell, though nobody had ever caught,
nobody had ever seen, and nobody ever heard of any being either seen or
caught; but still eels of a mighty size were said to be in the tarn, and
the reason for their not being caught was supposed to be the depth. As
they came up to the lake, Dick ran on first and dashed into the reeds at
the side, splashing and paddling about, and here and there taking to
swimming. Just as he entered one great tuft of green reeds, rushes, and
withes, there was an extra amount of splashing, and away flew, or rather
ran along the surface of the water, a moorhen, with her thin attenuated
toes just paddling the surface.
"Hooray," said Harry, calling Dick off, "here's a nest; moorhen's eggs,
boys, moorhen's eggs!" and off he started to reach the nest; but here
Master Harry was as badly off as when in the cedar-tree at home, for the
moorhen had evidently intended to keep human visitors away, and Harry
found that the coveted eggs, if any, were certainly not upon _terra
firma_. Every step the lad took showed more plainly how treacherous was
the surface round the tarn; for it was entirely composed of bog-moss--
that pretty moss that turns of a creamy white, tinged with pink or
salmon colour, when dried--and soon Master Harry could only progress by
stepping daintily upon the little bunches of heath that grew amidst it,
or upon the occasional tufts of last year's dead reeds and rushes. But,
light as the boy was, he soon found this mode of progression would not
do, for, making a bound on to what looked a particularly dry spot, in he
went up to his knees in the soft bog, and it was only with great
difficulty that he scrambled out again to where his brother and Fred
stood laughing and cheering him.
"I don't care," said Harry, shaking himself like a dog; "I don't mind
being wet, and, now I am wet, I mean to have the eggs."
"No, don't," said Fred, "you'll sink in."
"No, I shan't," said Harry; "I mean to make a corduroy-road, like they
do over the swamps in America, that we read about."
"Ah, that will be capital," said Philip; "come on."
And so the lads set to work, and in amongst the trees close by they soon
found a large dead branch, and laid it down across the first soft place,
and they very soon would have had a firm pathway to the moorhen's nest,
but for the simple reason that they were not provided with woodcutter's
axes, ropes, etc; the consequence was, that they could find no more wood
fit for the purpose, and Harry's corduroy-road was composed only of one
cord.
"Oh," said Philip, "don't I wish we had a lot of the faggots out of the
stack-yard."
"Let's fetch some," said Fred, which would have been a capital plan,
only the faggots would have been rather awkward things to carry through
the thick underwood; and, besides, they could only have carried one
each, and home was now about four miles off, while they would have
wanted at least twenty.
"What a jolly bother!" said Philip. "Why don't you go round the other
side, Harry, and swim?"
"You go," said Harry: "I'd go, if it wasn't for the eels, and the water
being so deep; I wouldn't mind, if it was only eight or nine feet, but
they say it's hundreds of feet to the bottom."
But Philip did not feel disposed to go, and Fred could not swim, so, to
their great disappointment, they were obliged to leave the moorhen's
nest,--with at least a dozen eggs in, so Harry said; but, as he had been
very little nearer to the receptacle than his brother and cousin, this
statement was rather of a doubtful nature; still, as the others had not
been so near, they did not feel themselves justified in contradicting,
neither did they wish to, so the party reluctantly left the much-coveted
treasure, the two wet members of the party--namely, Dick and Harry--
leading the way further into the wood.
And now there were so many objects to take attention, that the professed
purpose of the trip was quite forgotten, till Harry by chance spied a
woodpecker just entering a hole in a hollow tree, and then called his
companions' attention to the fact. To scale the tree was the work of a
very few minutes, and, to Harry's intense delight, he found the hole
sufficiently large to admit his hand and arm, and this time he was
successful, for he drew forth with great care, one at a time, three
woodpecker's eggs, which he placed its his cap, and then descended.
So far the trip had been most successful, for they had obtained the eggs
generally reckoned as scarce in most parts of the country, from the
secluded habits of the birds; and now the lads turned their attention to
find the nest of a turtle-dove. The part of the wood they were in was
very thick and full of underwood, a large proportion of which consisted
of hazel stubs so dense that, almost before they were aware of it, Fred
and Philip were separated from Harry and Dick; and when they did miss
them, and called out, a faint and distant "Halloo!" was the response.
"Never mind," said Philip, "I'm tired. Let's sit down here and let him
come to us."
Saying which he took his seat upon the mossy trunk of an old fallen
tree, an example which Fred was not long in following; and there they
waited, enjoying the delicious sensation of rest felt in a shady spot
after a long, toilsome walk, and thinking very little about poor Harry.
"What a while Harry is," said Fred at last; "isn't he coming?"
"Oh, yes; he'll be here presently," said Philip; "he'll be sure to find
us."
After a few minutes' pause, "What's that?" said Fred, pointing to some
rustling and moving leaves close by the opening where they sat.
"Hush," said Philip; "don't move; it's a stoat or a weasel. You'll see
him directly;" and in a moment after a long thin body came creeping out
from the herbage. But it was neither weasel nor stoat, but a very large
snake, which came right across the open space they were in--making Fred
turn quite pale, for his imagination immediately whispered to him of
poison fangs, rattlesnakes, cobras, and all sorts of venomous brutes.
But the snake had no idea of touching the intruders on the silence of
the forest, but made directly for a spot upon the other side of the
opening, which he would soon have reached if it had depended upon Fred;
but Philip possessed the animosity of his race against the serpent
tribe, so caught up a rough branch that he had previously broken from a
tree and slightly trimmed with his knife, and rushed after the
retreating snake.
The poor thing struggled hard for its life and liberty, but in spite of
its struggles and menacing attitude, Philip struck at it boldly with his
stick and soon rendered his adversary _hors de combat_, when the victor
dragged his prize to his companion, and displayed to his wondering gaze
a snake upwards of a yard long, and very thick. Philip then secured his
trophy by slipping a noose of whipcord over its head, and tying it to
his stick.
At last, time slipped by and no Harry made his appearance, while plenty
of indications showed that evening was fast closing in: moths began to
flutter about the different leaves; every now and then, too, came the
low evening drowsy hum of the cockchafer, while Fred gave a regular jump
when a gigantic stag-beetle stuck him right in the cheek and then fell
crawling about in his lap.
"Ouf!" said Fred, "take the beast off. Is it poisonous?"
Philip laughed heartily at his cousin, as he assured him to the
contrary; but the beetle saved him the trouble of brushing his horny
body away by making a fresh flight, and disappearing over the trees.
"Come on," said Philip, "let's go."
"But how about Harry?" said Fred.
"Oh, we'll go and find him," and so the lads pushed right ahead as they
thought, and in the direction in which Harry's voice was last heard; but
they soon grew bewildered, and at last stood gazing disconsolately at
one another, and then, as is stated at the beginning of this chapter,
"Whoo-oo-oo-oop!" sang out Philip.
"Hoop--hoop--hoop!" shouted Fred as loudly as he could, and then,
feeling the loneliness oppress him more than he could bear, he sat down
on a stump, and seemed half disposed to cry.
"Oh, I say," said Philip, who was nearly as bad, "don't look like that,
or we shall never get out of the wood. Don't you know what a many times
Robert Bruce tried before he got his kingdom? Let's try again; the wood
is not so very big, and we must come out somewhere."
"Do you think we ever shall get out again?" said Fred.
"Oh, of course we shall," said Philip, "and there ain't no wild beasts
or anything of that kind, so come on and let's start."
And start they did--creeping through some bushes, pushing others aside,
but somehow or another getting flogged by the returning twigs, and
scratched by the brambles in a way they had not suffered in the morning.
Once Fred tripped over a stump and fell heavily down, where he lay
crying silently, but without trying to get up again; and it was only by
Philip dragging at him that he could be got upon his legs. Duskier grew
the wood, till under the big trees it was quite dark; but Philip pressed
manfully on, though he felt completely bewildered; still his good sense
told him that they must eventually find an outlet.
On and on they went, slowly and toilsomely, and still nothing but trees
and bushes, looking gloomy and shadowy--very different to the appearance
presented in the afternoon when the sun shone upon them, sending a
checkery shade amongst the waving grass; and at last Philip felt his
heart sink within him at the hopelessness of his task. All at once a
happy thought struck the boy as they stood in a more open space, where
they could see the stars shining down brightly upon them.
"I say, Fred," he said, "hasn't your papa ever told you about how the
people used to guide their ships by the stars."
"No," said Fred moodily, "but I have heard they used to."
"Well" said Philip, "let's see if we can't get out that way. I think we
can. I know which is the North-pole star, because Papa showed them all
to us; and there it is," said the boy, joyfully, "That's the north, and
right hand will be west, and left hand east; no, it won't, it will be
right hand east, and left hand west. That's right, isn't it?"
"Yes, I dare say it is," said Fred, dolefully.
"Well, when we are at home the wood lies in the west, because the sun
sets behind it in the evening, so we must travel to the east, and then
we shall be going towards home; and we have been going south, because I
was looking that way, and had to turn round to find the Pole Star. Come
on, Fred, we'll soon be home now."
"Oh, dear," said Fred, "let's lie down and go to sleep; I've got such a
blister on my toe."
"No, come on," said the other, "for poor Mamma will be so frightened."
"Oh, and won't Uncle be cross?" said Fred.
This last remark almost frightened Philip out of his hurry to get home,
for he directly felt disposed to put off the evil--the scolding that he
expected to receive; but the knowledge that it would be making bad
worse, if he loitered now, made him summon up the determination to
proceed; and it required no little determination, for, since they had
been star-gazing, their joints had grown stiff; aches and pains had come
upon them; and they both would have given anything to have gone to sleep
where they were.
"Oh, do come on," said Philip at last, roughly shaking Fred. "It ain't
far now; for I remember that the wood is very long, but not very broad
from east to west, so if we keep walking east we shall soon get out."
So onward they pressed again, very slowly and laboriously, for about
another half-hour, and then Philip stumbled and fell, for a spiteful
bramble had caught him by the foot, and the poor boy could hold up no
longer; he had cheered his cousin on in every way he could, and taken
the lead throughout, though his heart was sinking, and he knew the
trouble all proceeded from their own folly; but though he kept down his
faint-heartedness and tried manfully to put a bold face on the matter,
he was beaten, thoroughly beaten, at last, and lay upon the dewy grass,
completely jaded, and without energy or spirit to make another attempt,
while Fred, seeing his cousin's heart fail, broke down as well.
But all at once Philip's eyes brightened, and he started up as though
touched by the wire of an electrical machine.
"Bow-wow-wow; wuph, wuph, wuph!" sounded upon the clear night air.
"Trill--lill--lill--lill--chug--chug--chug--chug--chug!" rang out the
sweet notes of a nightingale close by; and then again--
"Bow-wow-wow; wuph, wuph, wuph!" from a dog apparently not far off.
"Come on," said Philip again, with fresh energy; and casting one glance
up at the stars, he pushed forward due east for about a dozen yards with
Fred close behind him, and then, forcing his way through a dense hazel
stub, he made a step forward, slipped, and went down crash into a deep
ditch. But he did not stop in despair this time, although scratched and
bruised, for he was out of the wood, and leaping up he stood upon the
green turf by the side of the white chalky road.
"Jump, Fred," he exclaimed, "right over the ditch."
Fred jumped; but instead of jumping right over he jumped right in, and
had to be helped out by Philip; but he shared in his companion's renewed
spirit, and now stood with him in the dusty road looking about.
"Bow-wow-wow; wuph, wuph!" barked the dog again.
"Why, I know where we are," said Philip; "that's Mr Benson's farm, and
we are six miles away from home. Never mind; let's go and tell Mrs
Benson, I know she will let us rest a little while."
Fred was willing enough, and in a minute or two they stood under the
porch of the old farm-house, with the dewy roses bending over them as
they rapped at the door; while all the time the dog in the yard rattled
his chain, and made a terrible disturbance.
"If you please, Mrs Benson," said Philip, as the door opened and a
comely, motherly young face appeared; "if you please, Mrs Benson, we
lost our way in the wood--and--and--and--and oh, dear! oh, dear; what
shall I do!" sobbed poor Philip, now out of his peril but thoroughly
beaten, "what shall I do?" and then he sobbed and cried as though his
heart would break, Fred helping him him to the best of his ability.
"Why, thee poor dear bairns!" said Mrs Benson; "come in, and sit thee
down.--Why, one of 'em's Squire Inglis's Philip, John," she continued to
her husband, "and here they be ammost bet out."
Mrs Benson could talk, but she could act as well, and she soon had the
two lads upon the snug "keeping-room" sofa.
"Bless thou, my poor bairns!" she exclaimed; and then in a breath to her
husband. "Thou'dst better send Tom over to the Grange, and tell them
where the poor things are, or they'll be frightened to death; and let
him tell Mrs Inglis well drive them over as we go to market in the
morning."
So off packed Mr Benson to send the messenger, while his wife bustled
the great red-armed maid about; and then with warm water and towels
bathed the boys' faces and hands, and brushed their hairs, as though she
had done it every day since they were babies; while during all this time
the red-armed maid had spread a cloth on one end of the table and
tea-things on the other, while Farmer Benson, who had been taking his
evening pipe and hot gin and water when the boys knocked at the door,
now insisted upon their each taking a sip or two out of his glass.
Directly after there was a steaming hot cup of tea before each visitor,
with plenty of rich yellow cream in it, while Mrs Benson cut from a
sweet-scented light-brown-crusted home-baked loaf slices which were as
though made of honeycomb, and which she gilded over with the bright
golden butter from her own snowy churn. Mr Benson; too, he could not
be idle, so he cut two great wedges out of a raised pork pie, and placed
in the boys' plates--pie that looked all of a rich marble jelly, veined
with snow-white fat, and so tempting after some hours' ramble in the
woods.
"I ham glad thou came, bairns," said Mrs Benson, kissing her visitors
in the most motherly way imaginable.
"Ay, lads, and so am I; but there, doan't take on. Yeat, lads, yeat,
and then ye'll soon be all right again."
And the boys choked down their sobs, and did "yeat" in a way that made
their worthy host and hostess smile with pleasure, as well as to see the
faces that a few minutes before looked so worn, pale, and wretched,
brightening up under the treatment their complaint was receiving.
All at once Philip came to a stand-still, and said, "I wonder where
Harry is?"
"What! was he out with thee?" said the farmer and his wife.
"Yes," said Philip, "and he had got Dick with him."
"Ah!" said the farmer, "I don't know Dick. Who's he?"
"Why, our rough dog," said Philip; "the ratter."
"Oh, ah, ha!" said the farmer; "so he had Dick with him, had he?"
"Yes," said Philip, mournfully, and with another great sob creeping up
his throat.
"Theer, theer," said Mr Benson, "doan't do that, bairn. He's safe
enough if he's got that dog wi' him; he'd be sewer to find the way out
o' the wood."
This seemed to act as a kind of comfort to Philip, who resumed his meal,
but only to find out a new trouble directly after. "Where's my snake?"
he exclaimed, jumping up, and looking at the end of the rough stick he
had brought in with him. But nobody knew, so nobody replied to his
question; the snake was gone, for it had not been even remembered all
through the time of their bewilderment, and now that it was brought to
mind there was not even a trace of the whipcord.
"Now, my dears," said Mrs Benson, seeing that the lads had finished
their meal,--"now, my dears, I have had clean sheets put on the best
bed, so, if I was you, I should go and have a good rest."
But Mrs Benson's motherly ideas were put to the rout by the sound of
wheels and directly after a horse was pulled up at the gate. Some one
rapped at the door, and, upon its being opened, in rushed Dick, closely
followed by Mr Inglis, Harry, and Mr Benson's lad, Tom, who had not
gone far upon the road before he met the above party in search of the
lost ones. They had been making inquiries all down the road at every
cottage they passed, and it was during one of these stoppages that Tom
recognised Mr Inglis's voice, and brought him on to the farm.
The first act of Dick on entering the room was to leap upon Philip and
Fred, and bark as loudly as he could--scampering round the place, and at
last misbehaving so much that he had to be turned out, to stay outside
the door, howling, till his master was ready to start again.
Harry, who looked a perfect scarecrow, grinned with delight upon seeing
his lost companions found, while Mr Inglis warmly thanked the farmer
and his wife for their hospitality, and then, refraining from uttering
any words of blame, hurried the lads into the four-wheeled chaise, so as
to hasten home to quiet the alarm of Mrs Inglis, who was, of course, in
a state of great anxiety.
"Good-byes" were said, and promises made to go and see Mrs Benson
again, and then off trotted the horse, and round spun the wheels; while
Dick every now and then gave a short bark, evidently of pleasure at
being allowed to ride. As for Philip and Fred, they were both soon fast
asleep, with their heads nodding and rolling about enough to shake them
off.
At last the Grange was reached, Mrs Inglis's fears set at rest, and,
half-asleep, all three boys were soon up in their bedrooms, and the next
morning, when the eight o'clock bell rang, more soundly asleep than
ever, so that they had to be shaken and shouted at to make them get up,
which they did at last, yawning fearfully, and feeling so stiff, sore,
and aching, that they could scarcely move.