A NOVEL TRADE
There was something so quaint about Binks, the old handy-man, that
nobody resented his preachings at them. Not the Carnegy boys, at
least, not even Alick, who was no fool. He knew, if he had allowed
himself to say so fairly and squarely, that a man without education
must of necessity make but a poor show in the world among his
fellow-men. But Alick was incorrigibly lazy, and he had grown up so
far without attempting to get the reins of his idle, pleasure-loving
self between his own fingers. Geoff, on the other hand, though a
regular pickle of a boy, did manage to scramble through his lessons,
and to present a more decent appearance therein, doubtful as it was if
he thoroughly digested what learning he took in.
He was a greater favourite in the neighbourhood than Alick; and as he
came rushing, helter-skelter, along the garden-path, cramming Mrs.
Vesey's answer into one of his crowded pockets, one could not be
surprised at his popularity, for a merrier-faced boy than Geoff did not
exist. And his looks did not belie his laughter-loving nature. The
boy overflowed with mischief and good-humour. His was one of those
natures that never fail to take their colour from their surroundings.
Geoff was influenced this way and that by every wind that blew. Had it
not been for Alick's bad example, the boy would have been as orderly
and obedient a pupil as even his tutor could desire. As matters stood,
however, Geoff trod on the heels of his mutinous elder brother in every
mischief hatched at the Bunk. There was this distinct difference
between the rebels, however: Alick's tricks and practical jokes, as
well as his rebellion against authority, had in them the strain of
_malice prepense_ which made of them blacker faults, while Geoff's
misdemeanours were committed in the name of, and for the sake of, pure
mischief. Splutters and Shutters instinctively recognised this kindred
spirit in the boy, as they tore madly after him through the garden,
barking vociferously their affectionate admiration.
'Binks, I say!' Geoff almost yelled in his endeavour to drown the
terriers' voices. 'Who do you think has come back to the village?
Why, Jerry Blunt, with one arm, poor chap, from that North Pole
expedition. He has given up the sea; and you'll never guess the land
trade he means to take up, not if you sat down for six weeks to think
it out. You couldn't, so I may as well tell you. Training young
bullfinches to sing tunes. Ho! ho! He! ho!' Geoff Carnegy had a most
extraordinary laugh of his own, and it rang out on the crisp salt air.
'Who told you? How did you hear?' shouted Alick from above.
'Why, Jerry himself has just been up to the Vicarage to tell Mr. Vesey
all about it, and---- But, wait a bit, I'll come up beside you and
finish the story!' and Geoff clambered up alongside of his brother.
'Whatever's that you're a-sayin' of, Muster Geoff?' Binks, with spade
in mid air, was open-mouthed.
'Jerry Blunt--you remember old Jerry, Binks, don't you? He has come
back from the North Pole.'
'Oh, comed back, has he? Jes' so! Well, I ain't surprised.'
'No, you never are, Binks!' Alick drily observed. 'Take an earthquake
to wake you up!' he added under his breath.
'And do'ee say as the lad's left an arm behind?' inquired Binks.
'Yes, I did,' rejoined Geoff. 'He's up at the house yonder, in the
study, telling the vicar how it was done. Mrs. Vesey didn't know; she
told me about the bullfinches, but she couldn't say how the arm was
lost. I should say it must have been nipped off by a Polar bear,
shouldn't you, Binks?' Geoff's eyes protruded excitedly as he mentally
pictured the suggested nip.
'Polar bear? Hum! Well, it might ha' bin. I never fancied bears.
There's a deal o' low cunning about a bear; no slapdash courage, so to
say, same's there's in a lion or a leopard, but jes' a cruel, slow,
deliberate intention to kill, like a nor'-east wind as blights and
nips, sure as sure. Once, I remember, there was a travellin' bear came
Northbourne way. 'Twas when I was a b'y, same's your two selves. This
yere bear had a man with it, a mounseer, to judge from his tongue. He
wasn't a bad chap, and couldn't well help bein' a Frenchy. He wasn't
never unkind to the bear; he fed him, and saw to his straw bed o'
nights, same's the creature was his own child. But as I've said, there
ain't no nice feelin' about a bear; you can't win 'em, nohow.'
'Well, but what happened?' impatiently broke in Alick. 'Did the bear
do anything?'
'I'm a-comin' to that, muster, if you'll give me time; but you're the
hurryin' sart, you are. I should think as the teacher-genelman must
have his work laid out to keep up with you, you be so mortal anxious to
learn.'
Alick reddened, and glared down at Binks's unruffled countenance; but
he forbore to retort, recognising that the old man's powers of repartee
were superior to his own.
'Oh, come on, please do!' persuasively said Geoff, thrilling to hear
the sequel of Binks's story.
'Well, as I was sayin',' Binks relented and went on, ''twas when I was
a b'y, and a rare fuss it did make. I was one as saw the thing with my
own eyes. That mounseer chap had divided his dinner with the bear one
day; the greedy baste had swallowed his own share, and was watching his
master out of them cunning eyes bears has. Of a suddent he clawed away
the victuals and bolted them; then there was a shriek from poor
Frenchy, and we all saw as the bear had him in a grim death-hug. I
tell you it took a few Northbourne men to separate them two, and when
'twas done, I don't forget the sorry sight the unfortunit' man was.
There warn't no hospitals nor nothin' in them days, and the doctor he
had a tough job to bring the poor furriner to, and patch him up, I tell
you!'
'And the bear?' struck in Geoff. 'Did they do anything to the bear?'
'Only shot him dead; nothin' else. 'Twas the doctor hisself as shot
him; we didn't want no savage wild beasts round Northbourne woods.
But, as I was sayin', there's no nice feelin' about bears, and I make
no doubt 'twas owin' to one of them Polar beasts as Jerry lost his arm,
but we'll hear about that from hisself. Poor lad, he wasn't a bad
sort, Jerry. You could always take his word for whatever 'twas. I
never knowed Jerry tell a lie, and you can't say more'n that for a
genelman born. B'ys, I'd rather, when my own time comes to be laid by
in the churchyard yonder, have it in writin' over me, _He never telled
a lie_, than I'd have anything on arth writ there.'
'Well,' said Alick reflectively, 'there's one thing I can't make out,
and that is, what brought Jerry Blunt back to Northbourne? If I'd his
chances, and got free away from this stupid hole, catch me ever coming
back, that's all!'
'Ah, so you say, muster!' Binks had returned to the refractory carrots
once again. 'But you'll find out, one of these days, that there's
summat in each of us like cords that draws a man to the old home. 'Tis
nature, as the Almighty 'as planted deep in our hearts, a-workin' in
the wust of us and in the best of us alike. Why, 'tis the same thing,
that hankering, we--some of us--has for a further-away home still, the
homeland beyond.'
As Binks leant on his spade, and pushed back his straw hat to gaze over
the blue waters to the misty, far-off horizon, a softer look stole over
the wrinkled face. He had forgotten, the mischievous boys perched on
the wall above, forgotten Jerry, the returned wanderer, in the thought
of that home to which he would willingly enough depart, where the old
man's human treasures were already housed, and where they awaited
himself.
'I say, let's get down, and slip round to the lane; perhaps we might
catch Jerry, and walk home with him.'
It was Geoff's suggestion; and the brothers slid down from the wall to
the beach on the other side to make off, amid a distracting volley of
heart-rending howls from the betrayed Splutters and Shutters.