NEWS OF HUNT. NEWS OF ROLLO. NEWS OF DORA
I
The great Argentine trip--an affair of so much consequence in its
bearing on the development of pony-breeding as to attract the attention
of the "Field" in a series of articles that spoke in highest terms of
"Messrs. Hannafords' well-known establishment" and of "the far-reaching
effects of their new enterprise"--occupied six months. Six weeks--or
days--they seemed to Percival as they fled on the novelty and the busy
interests that attended him while in South America. Six years he found
them on the long voyage home in the steamer that brought him and the
purchases from native stock of whose blood "the far-reaching effects"
were to be produced; and twice and three times six years he declared to
himself he seemed to have been away as, in the closing hours of an
April afternoon, the train brought him in sight--at last! at last!--of
homeland scenes, of Plowman's Ridge along the eastward sky.
Quite a little party was assembled on Great Letham platform to greet
him. The Rough 'Uns had driven over in two separate carts--one that
should carry him to Aunt Maggie and the other that should bear his
luggage--and they were there, their faces to be seen afar like crimson
lamps of their excitement, and Mr. Hannaford's leg-and-cane cracks
rising high above the din of escaping steam in which the train drew up,
and Stingo almost completely voiceless with huskiness for more than an
hour back. And Stingo had brought Japhra, arrived at the little horse
farm to take up Ima after her winter with Aunt Maggie; and Mr.
Hannaford had brought Ima, and they were there--Japhra with his tight
mouth twitching, and deep in his puckered face his bright little eyes
gleaming; and Ima, standing a shade apart, a tinge of colour crept
beneath her skin, and on her lips and in her eyes her gentle smile. To
complete the greeting there came shrill, ridiculous chuckles from a
stout, soft gentleman, and from his sister little hops and little
flutters and "_There_ he is! He'll _hit_ his head leaning out like
that! He's _browner_ than ever! Oh, _Percival_!"
And "Percival!" from them all in all their different keys, and he among
them before the train was stopped, and turning from glad face to glad
face, and caught up in the midst of it with a sudden wave of the old
thought, like a knock at the heart, like a catch at the throat--"How
jolly, jolly good they all are to me!"
Like a knock at the heart, like a catch at the throat, it took him, and
checked him a moment in his responses to the congratulations and was
mirrored in the flicker that went across his face. His eyes caught
Japhra's and it was the look of understanding he read there, he
thought, that brought Japhra to him for another word before he drove
away. In the station yard the traps were waiting. "You, longside o'
me--_partner_!" bellowed Mr. Hannaford and must shake Percival's hand
again for the meaning of that word. "Up behind, Ima, my dear. We'll
take _partner_ home while Stingo leaves that box at the farm and then
comes on with the rest of the luggage."
Plump Mr. Purdie and birdlike little Miss Purdie had started to walk;
Stingo was throating "Come along, Japhra, come along, Japhra," in a
husky whisper that no one could hear but himself; Mr. Hannaford was
beginning the tremendous operation of hoisting himself up on one side
of the cart while Percival, a foot on the step, was about to swing
himself up on the other, when Japhra turned and came back to him.
"Thy hand a last time, master!"
"Hullo, what's this for?" Percival laughed; but saw Japhra's face
grave, and went on: "You caught my eye on the platform just now,
Japhra. I saw you knew how I felt. That's it, eh?"
"Something of that," Japhra answered him. "Ay, a thought of that came
to me then." The note of his voice was as earnest as his eyes, and he
added, "Master, there was another matter to it that I saw."
"Well, you were always the thought-reader," said Percival, and smiled
at him quizzically. "What was it, Japhra?"
"That thou art out for something else than we know."
"You could see that? Well, you shall know to-morrow."
The earnest look in Japhra's eyes went deeper. "Comes it so soon?"
"A few hours, Japhra."
There came an impatient hail from Mr. Hannaford, settled at last in the
trap above them.
"Well, press my hand to it," Japhra said; and as he held Percival's
hand, "press--let me feel thy grip, master. Something bids me to it.
Ay, thou art strong. Be strong in thine hour."
As the trap swung out of the station yard Percival saw him still
standing there as though he still would speed that message. He turned
about in his seat to elude Ima in his chatter with Mr. Hannaford, and
they were not two miles upon the road before he was launched upon what
gave him need for strength.
II
Strangers were rare in Great Letham. Every figure passed as they
rattled through the town was familiar to Percival. The turn into the
high road took them by one--a tall, straight man with something of a
stiff air about him, as though his clothes were uncomfortable--that
looked at them with a swift glance as they overtook him.
"Hullo," said Percival. "That's a new face. Who's that?"
"Why, that's a bit of news for you, _partner_," said Mr. Hannaford.
"Bless my eighteen stun proper if it ain't. There's two or three o'
them chaps about--'tecs."
"'Tecs?--detectives? Why, what's up, Mr. Hannaford?"
"There's been an escape from Dartmoor prison. Three of 'em in a fog.
And one--you'd never guess!"
"Not old Hunt?"
"Hunt sure enough, _partner_."
"Hunt--good lord, poor old Egbert Hunt! And those chaps? After him?
Do they think he's here?"
"They didn't know what to think," said Mr. Hannaford, and with a laugh
at them for their puzzlement went into explanation. A fortnight ago
the escape was made, it appeared. Two caught--one shot--but Hunt still
missing. Traces of him in four burglaries, and each one nearer this
way, and now the 'tecs here on the belief that he was making for the
country-side he knew.
Percival met Ima's eyes and saw in them sympathy with the feelings
given him by this news. "I knew you would be sorry," she said.
"Sorry!--why, Ima, it's awful, it's dreadful to me to think of poor old
Egbert like that. One of them shot--and he hiding, terrified, no
shelter, no food. When they catch him--I know what he is. He'll be
mad--do anything. They'll shoot him down, perhaps."
She touched his hand and he was moved to catch hers that touched him
and saw the blood tide up into her face. He had seen much of her in
the winter following his illness when she had lived with Aunt Maggie.
They were brother and sister, he had told her in those days, and when
he had spoken of that night on Bracken Down before the fight: "Oh, it
is forgotten," she had told him. "Forgotten, and forgotten all the
foolish words I spoke. Nothing in them, Percival. Yes, you are my
brother. I am your sister. That is it."
And now was sister. He did not notice that she caught her breath when
the blood came into her face as he took her hand, nor that she
disengaged his clasp before she spoke. Only that in her gentle voice,
"You must not let it upset you, Percival," she told him. "You are
coming back so happy. You must not let this spoil it."
"But it does," he said. "It does. I can't enjoy myself--I can't be
happy while he's near here perhaps--those brutes after him. We'll have
to look out for him, Ima. You and I. He'll not be afraid of us.
We'll go all round the place together. He'll come to us if he sees us."
"Yes--yes," she said, and seemed glad.
"What does old Rollo say?"
"Ah, Lord Burdon--Lord Burdon is longing to see you. Of Hunt I don't
know what he says. But of you--Percival, he's longing for you. He's
not been very well. He's kept to the house. He sent word how he had
looked forward to meeting you at the station but could not, and begged
you would go up to him as soon as ever you arrived. You must."
"Why, of course I will," Percival said, and with recollection of
Rollo--and of Rollo longing for him--was temporarily removed from the
gloom that had beset him and returned to the anticipation of all that
awaited him.
"I will, of course. He's not ill?"
"He's ever so much stronger since he came back. Only a cold that keeps
him in. He has to keep well for the festivities, of course."
Her reference was to the great twenty-fourth birthday celebrations--the
coming of age according to Burdon tradition--and Percival agreed
eagerly. "Why, rather! He'll want all his voice for the speeches! I
was afraid once I'd not get back in time. As it is, I've only just
done it. The nineteenth, next week, his birthday, isn't it?"
"Next Thursday," Ima said, smiling to see him smile again.
"Touch and go!" laughed Percival. "I might easily have missed it." He
turned to Mr. Hannaford. "Mr. Hannaford, you'll have to stay a bit
when we get home--have tea--and then drive me over to the Manor. We're
talking about Lord Burdon and the festivities. Great doings, eh?"
"Why, great doings is the word for it," said Mr. Hannaford. "Bless my
eighteen stun proper if it ain't. Everybody invited a score o' miles
round. Going to roast a nox whole, marquees in the grounds, poles with
ribbons on 'em from the church to the Manor--"
"From the church! What, is there going to be a service?"
"Service!" said Mr. Hannaford. "Why, how's he going to be married
without?"
Percival almost jumped to his feet. "Married! Is he going to be
married?"
"What, don't you know, _partner_?"
"I've not had letters for months. _Married_! Good lord, old Rollo
married! Why, that's tremendous. Ima, why ever didn't you tell me?
Married! Whom to?"
Mr. Hannaford was enormously pleased at this excitement. "Give 'ee
three guesses, _partner_."
Percival cried: "Why, I couldn't guess in a thousand. It fairly knocks
me. Old Rollo going to be married! Go on--tell me!"
"Go on--guess," said Mr. Hannaford.
"How can I guess? I don't know his London friends. I shan't even know
her name."
"Well, you'll ha' left your memory where you left that string o' little
'orses if 'ee don't. Ever heard o' Upabbot?" He twisted round to wink
advertisement of his humour to Ima. "Got any sort of a glimmering
rec'lection of Abbey Royal?--why, Miss Espart!"