OLD GAMES.
It was many weeks since the children had started out in such high
spirits as they did on the following afternoon. As long as they were
secretly meeting Lewis, there was always a certain mystery about their
doings which, though at first very exciting, soon became oppressive.
They were in the main truthful, straightforward children, and when they
were tempted first to talk to Lewis, and then to promise secrecy about
having done so, they had not foreseen what an amount of concealment
this conduct would give rise to in the future. Often when chattering
about their doings before Miss Thompson or their parents, references to
Lewis and his wonderful tales nearly slipped out, and the subject had
to be awkwardly changed. Once or twice questions were asked to which
the children, though they avoided telling downright falsehoods in
reply, yet gave wilfully misleading answers. And they had been
sufficiently well brought-up for this course of little deceptions to
make them feel thoroughly uncomfortable.
It was a real relief to have done with Lewis and all concealment, and
to be starting off boldly to play their old games, which, though a
little noisy and rough, were admittedly innocent. Sometimes they were
explorers discovering the source of the Nile; another day they would be
an eager party of adventurers hunting for gold in Australia. In either
case they carried long sticks and shouted the whole time. To-day, as
it happened, they were big-game hunters, looking out for giraffes,
elephants, and an occasional lion. They expected to find them behind
the hay-ricks or in the poultry-yard; failing those likely spots, they
would try the cow-house.
"I hope my new rifle will act to-day," observed Madge, shouldering a
pea-stick with great dignity. "Last time I was out it missed fire, and
I lost a fine buck in the forest."
This piece of information was received with perfect gravity by the
other children. The only way to enjoy games properly is to be quite
serious about them.
"I have slain twenty wolves with this spear!" cried John suddenly.
"But that's no reason why you should poke my eye out with it!"
exclaimed Betty, seizing the rough end of a long stick that was being
brandished close to her head.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! Your cheek is bleeding. Let's look!" and John
proceeded to examine his handiwork with more apparent interest than
regret.
"It's nothing! A miss is as good as a mile!" answered Betty
impatiently, as she scrubbed her cheek with a dirty handkerchief. It
was considered a great breach of etiquette to acknowledge that one was
hurt when playing a game. At lessons, on the contrary, a little fuss
about a scratch or bruise was allowable, because it took up time which
otherwise would have been devoted to study.
"Hist! Go gently! We are tracking the wild boar to his lair!"
muttered Madge. "Conceal yourselves from view behind the brushwood and
creep after me."
Now, a mere ordinary grown-up person would have been puzzled how to
carry out this order in a field where the grass was only about an inch
long. He would have looked in vain for any shelter behind which even
to hide his boots; he would in fact have been deplorably dense and
literal. The three children did not hesitate for a minute. They
slouched their hats forward over their faces, that being a concealment
behind which it was recognized that no wild boar would be likely to
penetrate; and they bent their knees into a fancied imitation of the
attitude of an Indian on the war-path. This was the established mode
of attacking a herd of wild animals.
"Halt! They have caught sight of us! Make ready your weapons!" cried
Madge in a sort of suppressed shout. "They are preparing to charge!
Look out!"
If the six black Berkshire pigs lying asleep in the sun under the wall
were really preparing to charge they dissembled their purpose
remarkably well. Half opening their tiny eyes they blinked lazily at
their assailants, and it was not until they had received several sharp
pokes from the long sticks that they would move from the spot where
they were lying. Even then they only tottered a few steps farther off,
and sank down again in a great heaving sleepy mass.
"If we threw a few stones at them perhaps they would run?" suggested
John.
"Better not," said Madge; "supposing Barton saw us he would be sure to
say we were hurting them."
"I only meant small ones, of course," answered John; "but I dare say he
would make a fuss and tell Papa some long story, just as he did about
our hunting the cows when we were only trying to catch the calf. He
always thinks things are so much worse than they are really. But how
shall we move the pigs without stones?"
Even Madge could not suggest a remedy for the pigs' excessive
drowsiness. Words, or rather shouts, seemed thrown away upon their
dull ears, and more active interference was impossible with Barton
hovering in the neighbourhood. The chase threatened to come to a
stand-still, when Betty burst into an agitated war-cry.
"The enemy are upon us! No, I forgot! The elephants, I mean! They
are galloping towards us! We shall be overwhelmed!"
She waved her stick defiantly as she screamed, in the spirit of one
prepared to perish sooner than surrender.
This time the alarm had sufficient foundation in fact to be very
exciting. A young heifer, attracted by the noise, and probably
thinking that it had some connection with Barton and hay, set off
trotting across the field, followed at a discreet pace by all the
milking-cows. In the distance, with the help of a little imagination,
they made quite a formidable array.
"We are outnumbered! There is no dishonour in flight!" shouted Madge
in the grand phrases gained from books, that were always employed on
these occasions. "Rush for the fort!" she continued. "The fort under
the oak-tree!"
The children needed no further instructions. They had well-established
settlements under several of the trees, consisting of fallen branches
that had been chopped into logs and piled in a heap to remain there
until wanted. In a few minutes more they were defying elephants and
everything else from the summit of a log-pile fully five feet high,
their backs planted firmly against the solid trunk of the oak-tree. So
safe did they feel that it was annoying of the cows not to come on
faster, and they took it as nothing short of a direct insult when the
leading heifer, to whom they had all along alluded as a mad bull, gave
up the pursuit and began quietly to eat.
"There's no spirit in anything, elephants or bulls! I never saw
anything like it!" said Madge in a tone of utter disgust. "If they
won't run away how can one hunt them?"
"But what is that coming in and out of the farmyard doorway? It isn't
there always," said John, screwing up his eyes and trying to see across
the field in the blinding sunshine.
"I think it's a dog! I am almost sure it is," observed Betty
nervously. "I do hope it is not a mad dog that has strayed in off the
road."
"That's not very likely," laughed Madge. "There aren't many mad dogs
on the road, in fact I know people are obliged to keep them shut up at
home, or muzzled, or--"
"Yes, I dare say that is the rule. But suppose this one had escaped
without anybody noticing him?" said Betty, who was very much afraid of
dogs; "and suppose he smelt us out, and followed us down here?"
"Well, I should just pat him on the head," said Madge loftily. "You
can make friends with any dog if you aren't afraid of him."
"I say!" exclaimed John suddenly. "It's that brute belonging to the
butcher, that bit the postman. He is wandering about the field, I can
see him quite plainly. The butcher must be in the yard talking to
Barton about buying the calf. I think we had better run back to the
house." Even the courageous Madge prepared to act on this suggestion.
They had been warned never to go near the butcher's dog, and it really
seemed almost beyond the bounds of sport to wait patiently until he
chose to bite them.
"We will run for the house!" cried Madge, rather enjoying the
excitement. "Now, off!"
As is often the case, Betty, being the most nervous and anxious to get
away, made a false start, her foot slipped between two logs of wood and
remained firmly jammed. "Oh stop! stop!" she cried, as the others, not
noticing her misfortune, were hurrying away across the field in the
direction of home. "I can't get out! Don't run away!" she wailed
frantically, twisting and tugging at her foot, but only succeeding in
hurting her ankle rather severely.
The large dog, who had up to this time contented himself with sniffing
about at the top of the field near the yard where his master was
standing, being attracted by the noise now began prowling like a wolf
nearer and nearer to the oak-tree. Betty, looking up from an
ineffectual struggle to roll the logs farther apart, saw him half-way
across the field towards her, and gave a terrific scream.
"What's that?" cried Madge, checking herself and looking back. "Why,
Betty has never come! What's the matter?" While speaking she had
turned and was rushing back towards her younger sister.
"The dog is coming! Look! He is coming!" shrieked Betty, almost
frantic with fright.
"I'll keep him off! Trust me!" gasped Madge, breathless with running,
as she posted herself in front of the logs, waving her stick like a
battle-axe. Her courage was undeniable, and fortunately her strength
was not put to any proof, as the butcher, hearing terrified cries,
stepped outside the yard and whistled to his dog.
"There! it has turned round! It is running back to its master! Barton
is there, so he will take care that it doesn't follow us again. I dare
say it would not have bitten, though," said Madge soothingly, as Betty
sobbed on her shoulder.
John came up at this moment, and they both tried to push the heavy logs
away, but could not move them an inch, even with all their strength.
At one time it really seemed as if Betty must remain there all night.
"It's no use pulling any more," panted Madge, scarlet from her efforts.
"I shall run up to Papa's workshop and get his little axe. Then I can
chop away the log enough for her to get out."
Possibly Betty was terrified by the prospect of having an axe wielded
by alarmingly energetic but unskilled hands too near her foot. At all
events she not only dried her tears at this suggestion, but twisted her
ankle so actively about that it slipped out of the crack as
mysteriously as it had gone in. There was no harm done, except various
bruises which had been chiefly caused by her efforts to escape.
In spite of some natural disappointment at not having any occasion to
exhibit her powers as a woodcutter, Madge congratulated her sister
heartily on getting loose, and the three children returned towards the
house. Miss Thompson was looking for them in the garden. They ran up
to her, concluding that as usual they were late for tea and she had
come to remind them of it.
"For once you are wrong," she said. "At least it is just tea-time, but
that was not why I was trying to find you. Now wash your hands, brush
your hair, and go to the schoolroom. There you will find three
visitors."