A BROAD HINT.
"Hold on, Parson! you've been and dropped your knife!" said a rough
voice in Abner Gale's ear, while a dexterous snatch twitched the weapon
out of his fingers. "Shame! gentlemen, shame!" continued Red Rube--for
it was none other than the harbourer, who thus struggled up in the nick
of time--"that two such noble riders should dispute about the honour of
blooding a pack of hounds!"
Then stooping nimbly down, and seizing its branching antlers with one
hand, while with the other he drew the Parson's hunting-knife across the
stag's throat, he observed that in the huntsman's absence it was a
harbourer's right to administer its death-stroke to the deer. Slowly,
proudly, the stately creature's head drooped to the level of those
eddying waters, already mantling in crimson circles with its blood.
Fiercely, savagely, maddened by the work of slaughter, leaping and
tumbling over each other in their eagerness to tear their prey, the
hounds threw themselves on the carcase, and it required the efforts of
all three men to preserve it from being foully mangled in their fangs.
Side by side, in silence, yet assisting each other and Red Rube, with
all their skill in wood-craft, the foes who had but now been grappling
in a death struggle, drew ashore, dismembered, and disembowelled the
dead stag, as if their only consideration were the authorised
distribution of its venison, and proper recompense of the hounds with
blood.
It was not till the prescribed obsequies were fulfilled, till lights and
liver had been set aside, the head sawn off, the "slot," or forefoot,
carefully severed for preservation, in memorial of so fine a run, the
paunch swallowed in eager gulps by the famished hounds, while Tancred
and Thunderer growled at the two ends of a yard of entrails, and Red
Rube, with bare, blood-stained arms, wiped the Parson's knife on a tuft
of grass, but forbore returning it to its owner, that John Garnet,
finding a moment's leisure, observed how three or four of the most
fortunate riders had arrived, as though dropped from the clouds, in time
to witness the finish before all was over. Amongst them he looked in
vain for the pretty white pony and Nelly Carew.
In the congratulations exchanged, the ebullitions of excitement indulged
in by these triumphant sportsmen, the Parson's moody scowl escaped
remark, save by one, whose whole life was spent in noting these trifling
signs by which important results are indicated to the observing. Red
Rube drew his own conclusions from the attitude in which he found those
two foremost riders at the crowning catastrophe of the chase, and was
satisfied, while he marked his sullen glances and vindictive brow, that
the Parson entertained some deeper and deadlier grudge against the more
successful sportsman than could arise from a mere question of priority
in cutting the deer's throat.
Now, Red Rube knew Abner Gale's character as well as he knew the surface
of Exmoor Forest, and wanted none to tell him that the Parson's hatred
meant persecution, by all means, fair and foul, even unto death! To John
Garnet the harbourer had taken one of those fancies so often entertained
by the old for those who might be their grandsons. He liked the young
man's pleasant face and frank kindly manners; his enthusiasm for the
chase; above all, his skill in the saddle and daring style of
horsemanship; nor thought him less deserving because of a shrewd
suspicion that he was the identical highwayman for whose capture a
reward of one hundred guineas had been offered by his Sovereign Lord the
King. Therefore--and it shows how high John Garnet must have stood in
his opinion--Rube refrained from giving information of his hiding-place,
and claiming that large sum of money for himself. Therefore, also, he
determined that, so far as he could prevent it, the Parson should do no
mischief to this promising young stag-hunter; whom, moreover, he highly
admired for his recklessness in thus appearing openly while so high a
price was on his head. In short, he loved his new acquaintance better
than his old friend and fellow-sportsman, better even--and it is saying
a great deal--than one hundred guineas in gold!
It is needless to observe that of those who reached the finish at
Waters-meet before the "bay" was over, Abel the huntsman arrived first,
making his appearance, indeed, immediately after Rube had cut the stag's
throat. There seemed nothing more to be done therefore, when the hounds,
now thoroughly tired and footsore, had been satisfied, the jaded horses
remounted, and the riders' different versions of their own doings
exhausted for the present, than to jog slowly home, each in his own
direction, with a happy chance of meeting more than one defeated
sportsman, to whom he might repeat the oft-told tale, never weary of
recapitulating the pace, distance, severity, triumphant conclusion, and
whole chain of events that marked this memorable run.
John Garnet, turning to remount his horse, was surprised to find the
animal in the custody of Red Rube, who handed his rein, and held his
stirrup with an officious alacrity foreign to his usual manner. The
rider's first thought, no doubt, was for the well-being of his steed,
after so exhausting a performance; yet did he not fail to remark a
peculiar expression on the harbourer's countenance, and the nervous
haste with which the old man helped him into the saddle, pocketing the
gratuity forced on him unconsciously, and by instinct as it seemed,
without a word of thanks.
It was not till he had satisfied himself of Katerfelto's soundness, and
felt the horse break gaily into a trot, stepping free and true, that he
gave a thought to Rube's flurried gestures and strange anxiety to start
him on his homeward way, dismissing the subject from his mind without
further comment, in the natural conclusion that the harbourer was drunk.
Then he abandoned himself to the exciting memories of the last few
hours, exulting, as well he might, in the extraordinary speed and
stamina of his favourite.
Meantime Parson Gale, seeking in vain for his hunting-knife, with a
moody brow and many curses on his own carelessness in losing this
favourite weapon, returned to his trusty Cassock, with the intention, no
doubt, of following his rival, and calling on his brother-sportsmen to
seize him in the name of the king. He was no mean judge of such matters,
and in their late trial of strength found John Garnet fully his match.
Unarmed, therefore, he determined not to encounter his enemy hand to
hand, regretting his own folly in yielding to passion and endeavouring
to slay him at disadvantage, thus warning him of danger, and setting him
on his guard. How much better, thought the Parson, to track him as old
Tancred tracked a deer, never slackening in effort, never off the scent,
never turning aside for any consideration, till he had run him
ruthlessly down, delivered him into the hands of justice, and seen the
last of him on Tyburn Hill.
It seemed to Abner Gale that his brother's blood cried out from the very
stones, not to be silenced nor appeased till his adversary stood in the
hangman's cart, with the nightcap over his face, and the fatal nosegay
in his hand.
The poor black horse, however, instigated by no such thirst for
vengeance, and desiring only the warmth and rest of its distant stable,
was felt to be in a sorry plight so soon as it was burdened once more
with the weight it had carried so gallantly through the day. Sore,
stiff, and weary, it was hopeless to expect from it anything more than
the very slowest trot. It bore besides, on crest and shoulder, marks of
the grey stallion's unprovoked assault; nor were these calculated to
soothe the vindictive feelings of its master. Many a bitter curse he
ground between his teeth, reflecting that, for the present, he must
abandon all hope of following up his enemy, and, for his angry mood
forbade him to join in the talk of his excited brother-sportsmen, plod
his homeward way as best he might alone.
How different were his feelings from those of the half-dozen friends and
neighbours, who had not half such good cause to be satisfied with their
own performances in the chase. These laughed and jested merrily, in
frank, hearty good-humour, praising the run, the country, each other's
riding, and by implication their own, the huntsman, the harbourer, the
stag, the horses, and the hounds. One or two trudged a-foot up and down
the steep inclines beside their weary steeds, all did their best to ease
and indulge the staunch animals that had carried them so well; and each,
while claiming for the rider a large share of credit due to the horse,
betrayed in his bearing the self-satisfaction of a man who has performed
a good action, rather than the sullen preoccupied air of one, like Abner
Gale, who meditates a crime!
Though in the West of England, as in Ireland, distances from point to
point seem held of less account than in other parts of the kingdom,
those are a dozen or so of very long miles, that stretch from
Waters-meet to Porlock, after a good run with stag hounds, on a horse
that has been galloping all day. We should indeed be surprised could we
calculate the extent of country over which the powerful stride of a
hunter sweeps in such a chase as I have endeavoured to describe; and
should marvel yet more, were it possible to ascertain the exact distance
traversed by a hound. The endurance of either animal seems truly
wonderful when put to the test; but the real horseman is ever
considerate to his "gallant and honourable friend," holding stoutly by
the maxim--
"Up hill spare me,
Down hill bear me,
On the level never fear me;"
and believing this triplet of doggrel to contain the first principles of
his art.
John Garnet, therefore, although he had long since discovered Katerfelto
to be one of those rare horses that can begin again at the end of the
day, did by no means suffer him to go his own pace home, restraining his
generous impulses and riding him steadily along at very moderate speed.
I do not affirm, however, that his thoughts were entirely monopolised by
this partner of his labours and his triumphs, or that he did not glance
anxiously about him, from time to time, in search of the well-known
figure on the white pony, that occupied the first place in his fancy,
and indeed the inmost citadel of his heart.
He was beginning to find those hours very wearisome which were spent
apart from Nelly; and after its excitement had subsided, even so gallant
a chase as that which he had lately witnessed, was felt to be no
equivalent for absence from her side.
There are moments when reflection seems to be forced on the most
thoughtless of men; when the dream vanishes the illusion is dispelled,
and they catch a glimpse of life as it is, not as they wish it to be.
John Garnet, riding softly through the heather, reviewed the events of
the last few weeks by the light of common-sense, and wondered how this
wild expedition of his, and wilder infatuation, was to end? That liberty
and life were endangered by his offences against the law he had long
been assured; but it was only to-day, and by the merest accident, he had
discovered that here, in the vicinity of his hiding-place, lurked an
enemy who thirsted for his blood. There was no mistaking the expression
of the Parson's face; and had he not caught and held the uplifted wrist
in a grasp more powerful than its own, he felt that his life-blood would
have mingled in the eddies of Waters-meet with that of the dying deer.
Now, when the excitement of the strife was past, he shuddered to think
of the hideous peril he had gone through, appreciating at the same time
the vindictive hatred of such an enemy, whose brother he had slain in a
midnight brawl, whose sweetheart he suspected he had won from him on the
sands of Porlock Bay. In his place, thought John Garnet, he would have
been as savage, no doubt; but, come what might--banishment,
imprisonment, hanging, or a stand-up encounter man to man--nothing
should ever force him to give up Nelly Carew!
His nerves must surely have been shaken by the severe exertions and
strange experiences of the day; for a horse's head appearing suddenly at
his knee, while its footfall was unheard amongst the heather, caused him
to start violently, and lay his hand on the pistol in his holster.
Red Rube grinned in his face while he brought the broken-kneed pony
alongside of Katerfelto. "Zeems as though a man couldn't forget the
tricks of his trade, Captain," said the harbourer, with a cunning leer.
"Here have I been slotting o'_you_ better nor two mile on end, as though
you'd been a right stag with three on the top--that's my calling. There
are _you_, out with the barkers, finger on trigger, stand and
deliver!--that's yours."
In vain John Garnet denied and expostulated, protesting, indeed, that he
was wholly ignorant of the other's meaning, and did but make an
involuntary gesture towards his weapon from an instinct of self-defence.
Rube was not so to be put off, and continued his remonstrances in a tone
of confidential sympathy, with his hand on the grey horse's mane.
"There's a time for a deer to move, and a time for a deer to couch,"
said the harbourer, using the familiar metaphors of his calling. "A time
for 'un to stand at bay, and a time for 'un to break the bay. When a
deer vinds itself hard pressed, and never a stick of covert for miles,
the sensible creetur 'takes soil,'--do 'ee hearken to me, Captain, it
takes soil, I say, and vinds its safety many a time in the salt sea.
'Tis not so fur from Porlock to Ilfracombe, but that theer good grey
horse could cover the distance in half a day."
He sidled farther off as he spoke, and seemed lost in contemplation of
Katerfelto's points and symmetry, as he trotted by his side.
"What should I do at Ilfracombe when I got there?" asked John Garnet;
adding, impatiently, "Man alive! speak no longer in parables. If you've
anything to say, out with it, and tell me what you mean!"
Rube looked behind, before, and on each side; then he drew nearer and
whispered--
"There be a price on thic' head o' yourn', Captain, a longish price,
too. May-be more than it be worth."
"I know it," answered John Garnet; "I've seen the bills. It's an easy
way to get a hundred guineas, Rube. Why don't you earn the money
yourself?"
The old man looked hurt. "It's not honest wood-craft," said he. "Every
beast of chase has a right to be hunted in season, and with a fair
start. The hounds are on your track, Captain, I give you fair warning;
but that's not all. There's one, a coarse black dog (Rube chuckled while
he enunciated this conceit), as will never be off the line so long as
the game is a-foot, nor leave the slot till he has the deer by the
throat. Do you think you deceived _me_ awhile ago, when you two stood in
a dead-lock together on yonder slab of stone? Double on him, Captain, I
do tell 'ee, double on him, that's what _you've_ got to do. I've friends
at Ilfracombe, free-traders they call 'em down there, they'd take any
young man aboard as was well known to Red Rube. This here wind will
serve, and I do know 'twill stay in the North for days together now, as
though 'twere nailed there. God speed ye, young man. You mind what I
tell 'ee. Keep your own counsel, and take a good hold of your horse's
head!"
Then he shook the pony's bridle, turned briskly down a coombe, and
disappeared.