"Uncle James was always calling me a fool," said Tom the next morning;
"and I must be, or I shouldn't have thought poor Uncle Richard half
crazy. What a lot of stuff I did get into my head."
He was dressing with his window wide open; the sun was shining warmly,
though it was only about six o'clock, and a delicious scent floated in
from the garden and the pine-woods beyond.
"Grinding corn and turning miller!" he said, and he burst into a merry
fit of laughter, and then stopped short with a hair-brush in his hand,
staring at his face in the glass, for he hardly knew it; he looked so
different to the sad, depressed lad whose countenance had gazed wearily
at him from the mirror when he rose of a morning in London.
"It must be the fresh country air," he said to himself; but all the same
he felt that it must be something more, and he hastened to finish
dressing and go down, so as to have a good look round before breakfast
punctually at eight.
"Seems like coming out for a holiday, or being at home again," he
thought, as he went down-stairs softly, wondering whether he could
easily get out, but to find that the front door was wide open, and hear
the servants busy in the kitchen; while, as he stepped out on to the
lawn, he suddenly heard the musical sound of a scythe being sharpened,
and the next minute he was alongside of David, who had just begun to
sweep the keen implement round and lay the daisies low.
"Mornin', sir, mornin'. Going to be reg'lar hot day.--Eh? Want to get
up into the pine-woods. Best go straight to the bottom of the garden,
and out into the field, and then strike up to your left."
Tom hurried through the bright grounds, followed the directions, and in
a few minutes he was climbing a slope of rough common-land, here velvety
short turf full of wild thyme, which exhaled its pungent odour as his
feet crushed its dewy flowers, there tufted with an exceedingly
fine-growing, soft kind of furze, beyond which were clumps of the
greater, with its orange and yellow blooms, and rough patches of
pale-bloomed ling and brilliant yellow broom.
Beyond this wide strip the closely-growing fir-trees began, forming a
dense, dark-green wood.
It was for this that he was aiming; but as he reached the edge, he
turned to stand in the bright sunshine looking down at the village.
There was the square-towered, ivy-covered church, with its clock-face
glistening, and the hands pointing to twenty minutes past six. Beyond
it, what seemed to be an extensive garden beside the churchyard, and the
ivy-covered gables of a house that he immediately concluded was the
Vicarage. Other attractive cottage-like houses were dotted about. Then
he caught sight of the green, with its smaller places. Another more
pretentious place or two, and as his eyes swept round, he reached, close
at hand, his uncle's home--his home now, with the windmill towering
above it just on the top of the ridge.
"What nonsense!" he said half aloud; and then he burst into a merry
laugh, which ceased as he heard what sounded like a mocking echo, and a
long-tailed black and white bird flew out of a fir-tree, with the sun
glistening upon its burnished green and purple tail feathers. "Why it's
a magpie!" he cried, and another flew out to follow the first.
As he stood watching them, his eyes rested upon a flashing of water here
and there, showing where a stream ran winding through the shallow
valley; while a couple of miles beyond it he could trace the railway now
by a heavy goods train panting slowly along, with the engine funnel
leaving a long train of white flocculent steam behind.
"Oh, it's lovely," he said softly. "Who could help being happy down
here!"
There was rather a swelling in his throat, for he felt the change for a
few moments. But the next minute the exploring desire was strong upon
him, and he plunged in amongst the bronze, pillar-like stems of the
fir-trees, and began wandering on and on in a kind of twilight, flecked
and cut by vivid rays of sunshine, which came through the dense,
dark-green canopy overhead. The place was full of attractions to such a
newly-released prisoner, and his eyes were everywhere, now finding
something to interest him in the thick soft carpet of pine-needles over
which his feet glided. Then he caught sight of a squirrel which ran up
a fir-tree, and stopped high up to watch the intruder. Then he came to
an open place where trees had been felled; the stumps and chips dotted
the ground, and bluebells had sprung up abundantly, along with patches
of briar and heath revelling in the sunshine.
Here the sandy ground was showing soft and yellow in places, where it
had been lately turned over, and in a minute or two he knew what by, for
a rabbit sprang up from close to his feet, ran some fifty yards, and
disappeared in a burrow; while from the trees beyond came a series of
harsh cries, and he caught sight of half-a-dozen jays jerking themselves
along, following one another in their soft flight, and showing the pure
white patch just above their tails.
"There must be snakes and hedgehogs, and all kinds of wild things here,"
thought Tom, with all a boy's eagerness for country sights and sounds;
"and look at that!"
He obeyed his own command, stopping short to watch, as he heard first a
peculiar squealing sound, and directly after saw another rabbit come
loping into sight, running in and out among the pine stumps, and keeping
up the pitiful squealing sound as it ran.
"Must have been that," he thought; and he was about to run after it,
when he suddenly saw something small and elongated appear among the
bluebells. For a moment it appeared to be a large snake making its way
unnaturally in an undulating, vertical way, instead of horizontally; but
he directly after made out that it was a weasel in pursuit of the
rabbit, going steadily along, evidently hunting by scent, and the next
minute it had disappeared.
"I must not go much further," thought Tom after a while. "I ought to be
back punctually to breakfast, and get my boots cleaned first."
He looked down at them, to see that the dew and sand had taken off all
the polish, and stepping out now, he hurried for a mound, intending to
make it the extent of his journey, and walk back from there to the
village.
The mound was pine-crowned, and he had nearly reached the top, noting
that the sand was liberally burrowed by rabbits, when all at once one of
the little white-tailed creatures darted over the top into sight and
rushed towards him; there was another rush, a big dog came into sight,
overtook the rabbit before it could take refuge in a hole; there was a
craunch, a squeal, and the dog was trotting back with the little animal
drooping down on each side from its steel-trap jaws, quite dead.
"Poor rabbit," muttered Tom. "Why, it's that boy's dog."
He increased his pace, following the dog up the sandy mound; while the
animal paid no heed to him, but went steadily on, with its thin,
greyhound-like, bony tail hanging in a curve, till reaching the highest
part of the eminence, the forepart with the rabbit disappeared, and then
the tail curved up for a moment in the air and was gone.
Tom Blount felt interested, and hurried up now over the sand and
fir-needles, till his head was above the top of the slope; and the next
minute he was looking down at the back of the dog's master, as he was
calmly stuffing the body of the defunct rabbit inside the lining of his
coat, a slit in which served for a pocket. The dog was looking on, and
just in front lay another rabbit, while a couple of yards away there was
a hole scratched beneath the root of a tree, and the clean yellow sand
scattered all about over the fir-needles.
The next moment Tom's sharp eyes detected that a couple of holes near at
hand were covered with pieces of net, one of which suddenly began to
move, and the dog drew its master's attention by giving a short low
bark.
The warning had its effect, for the lad rose from his knees, stepped to
the hole, and picked up something which Tom saw at once to be a long,
reddish, writhing ferret. This snaky animal the lad thrust into his
breast, stuffed the little piece of net into his pocket, picked up three
more scraps from the mouths of other holes, and finally took the rabbit
from the ground to pack inside his jacket lining, when the dog caught
sight of Tom, and gave a sharp, angry bark.
The boy looked round, saw that he was observed, and started to run. But
realising the next moment who it was, he hesitated, stopped, and
hurriedly getting the second rabbit out of sight, put on a defiant air.
Tom smiled to himself.
"Poaching, or he wouldn't have begun to run.--I say," he said aloud,
"whose wood is this?"
"What's that got to do with you?" cried the lad insolently. "'Tain't
yours. And just you lookye here, if I ketches you sneaking arter and
watching me again, I'll give you something as'll make that other side o'
your face look swelled."
Tom involuntarily raised his hand to a tender spot on his right cheek,
left from his encounter with his cousin, and the lad grinned.
"No, not that side, t'other," said the fellow. "Now then, just you hook
it. You 'ain't no business here."
"As much business as you have," said Tom stoutly, for the lad's manner
made his blood begin to flow more freely.
"No, you 'ain't; you're only a stranger, and just come."
"Anybody must have a right to come through here so long as he isn't
poaching."
The lad gave a sharp look round, and then turned menacingly to Tom, with
his fist doubled, and thrust his face forward.
"Just you say as I've been poaching agen, and I'll let you know."
His manner was so menacing that the dog read war, and set up a few hairs
on the back of his neck, and uttered a low snarl.
"Yes, and I'll set the dog at yer too. Who's been poaching? Just you
say that again."
"You look as if you had," said Tom stoutly, but with a very
uncomfortable feeling running through him, for the dog's teeth were
white and long, and looked just the kind to get a good hold of a running
person's leg.
"Oh, I do, do I?" said the lad. "I'll soon let you know about that.
Just you tell tales about me, and I'll half smash yer. I don't know as
I won't now."
His manner was more menacing than ever, and Tom was beginning to feel
that he would be compelled to place himself upon his defence, and
signalise his coming to Furzebrough with another encounter, when,
faintly-heard, came the striking of a church clock, borne on the soft
morning breeze, arousing Tom to the fact that he must be a good way on
towards an hour's walk back to his uncle's, and bringing up memories of
his punctuality.
"Mustn't be late the first morning," he thought, just as the young
rabbit poacher gave him a thrust back with his shoulder, and turning
sharply he darted among the trees, and began to run toward his new home.
"Yah! coward!" was yelled after him, and a lump of sandy iron-stone
struck him full in the back, making him wince; but he did not stop, only
dodged in and out among the pine-trees, taking what he believed to be
the right direction for the village. Then he ran faster, for he heard
his assailant's voice urging on the dog.
"Ciss! Fetch him, Bob!" and glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the
mongrel-looking brute was in full pursuit, snarling and uttering a low
bark from time to time.
Tom's first and natural instinct was to run faster, in the hope that the
dog would soon weary of the pursuit, and faster he did run, suffering
from an unpleasant feeling of fear, for it is by no means pleasant to
have a powerful, keen-toothed dog at your heels, one that has proved its
ability to bite, and evidently intending to repeat the performance.
Tom ran, and the dog ran, and the latter soon proved that four legs are
better for getting over the ground than two; for the next minute he was
close up, snapping at the boy's legs, leaping at his hands, and sending
him into a profuse perspiration.
"Ciss! fetch him down, boy!" came from a distance, and the dog responded
by a bark and a snap at Tom's leg, which nearly took effect as he ran
with all his might, and made him so desperate that he suddenly stopped
short as the dog made a fresh snap, struck against him, and then from
the effort rolled over and over on the ground.
Before it could gather itself up for a fresh attack Tom, in his
desperation, stooped down and picked up the nearest thing to him--to
wit, a good-sized fir-cone, which he hurled at the dog with all his
might. It was very light, and did not hit its mark, but the young
poacher's dog was a bad character, and must have known it. Certainly it
had had stones thrown at it before that morning, and evidently under the
impression that it was about to have its one eye knocked out or its head
split, it uttered a piercing whining cry, tucked its thin tail between
its legs, and began to run back toward its master as fast as it could
go, chased by another fir-cone, which struck the ground close by it, and
elicited another yelp.
Tom laughed, and at the same time felt annoyed with himself.
"Why didn't I do it at first?" he said; "and that isn't the worst of
it--that fellow will think I ran away because I was afraid of him."
This last thought formed the subject upon which Tom dwelt all the way
back, and he was still busy over an argument with himself as to whether
he had been afraid of the young poacher or no, when, after missing the
way two or three times among the firs, he caught sight of the church
clock pointing to a quarter to eight.
"Just time to get in," he said, as he increased his pace; and
then--"Yes, I suppose it was afraid of him, for he is a good deal bigger
and stronger than I am."
"Hullo, Tom! been for a walk?" saluted him, as he was hurrying at last
along the lane which divided his uncle's grounds from the new purchase.
Tom looked up quickly, and found that Uncle Richard was looking over the
wall of the mill-yard.
"That's right," continued his uncle. "What do you think of the place?"
"Glorious!" said Tom.
"Hungry?"
"Terribly, uncle."
"That's right. Come along, Mrs Fidler's waiting for us by now."