THE OLD GOATHERD
For a few seconds they stood petrified, and then Luke was seized with
panic, and, calling to the little boys to stay where they were, dashed
off in pursuit.
Up the path he pounded, from time to time shouting angrily to Ranulph
to come back, but the distance between them grew ever wider.
Luke's ears began to sing and his brain to turn to fire, and he seemed
to lose all sense of reality--it was not on the earth that he was
running, but through the airless deserts of space.
He could not have said how long he struggled on, for he who runs hard
leaves time behind as well as space. But finally his strength gave way,
and he fell, breathless and exhausted, to the ground.
When he had sufficiently recovered to think of starting again the
diminishing speck that had been Ranulph had completely vanished.
Poor Luke began to swear--at both Ranulph and himself.
Just then he heard a tinkle of bells, and down the bridle-path came a
herd of goats and a very ancient herdsman--to judge, at least, from his
bowed walk, for his face was hidden by a hood.
When he had got up to Luke, he stood still, leaning heavily on his
stick, and peered down at him from underneath the overhanging flap of
his hood with a pair of very bright eyes.
"You've been running hard, young master, by the looks of ye," he said,
in a quavering voice. "You be the second young fellow as what I've seen
running this morning."
"The second?" cried Luke eagerly. "Was the other a little lad of about
twelve years old with red hair, in a green leathern jerkin embroidered
in gold?"
"Well, his hair was red and no mistake, though as to the jerkin...."
And here he was seized with a violent attack of coughing, and it took
all Luke's patience not to grab him by the shoulders and shake the
words out of him.
"Though as to the jerkin--my eyes not being as sharp as they once
were...."
"Oh! never mind about the jerkin," cried Luke. "Did you stop and speak
to him?"
"But about that jerkin--you do cut an old man short, you do ... it
might have been green, but then again it might have been yellow. But
the young gentleman what I saw was not the one as you're after."
"How do you know?"
"Why, because he was the Seneschal's son--the one I saw," said the old
man proudly, as if the fact put him at once into a superior position to
Luke.
"But it's the Seneschal's son--Master Ranulph Chanticleer, that I'm
after, too!" cried Luke, eagerly. "How long is it since you saw him? I
must catch up with him."
"You'll not do that, on your two feet," said the goatherd calmly. "That
young gentleman, and his yellow jerkin and his red hair, must be well
on the way to Moongrass by now."
"To Moongrass?" And Luke stared at him in amazement.
"Aye, to Moongrass, where the cheeses come from. You see it was this
way. I'm goatherd to the Lud yeomanry what the Seneschal has sent to
watch the border to keep out you know what. And who should come running
into their camp about half an hour ago with his red jerkin and his
green hair but your young gentleman. 'Halt!' cries the Yeoman on guard.
'Let me pass. I'm young Master Chanticleer,' cries he. 'And where are
you bound for?' cries the Yeoman on guard. 'For Fairyland,' says he.
And then didn't they all laugh! And the little chap flew into quite a
rage, and said he was off to Fairyland, and no one should stop him.
And, of course, that just made them laugh all the more. But though they
wouldn't let him go to Fairyland, the young rascal...." And here the
old man was seized with a paroxysm of wheezy laughter which brought on
another bout of coughing.
"Well, as I was saying," he went on, when he had recovered, "they
wouldn't let him through to Fairyland, but they said they would ride
back with him where he came from. 'No, you won't,' says he; 'my dad,'
says he, 'don't want me to go back there, never any more.' And he
whisks out a letter signed by the Seneschal, bidding him leave the
widow Gibberty's farm, where he was staying, and go straight off to
Farmer Jellygreen's at Moongrass. So one of the Yeomen saddled his
horse, and the youngster got up behind him, and they set off for
Moongrass by one of the cattle-paths running northeast, which comes out
at about the middle of the road between Swan and Moongrass. So that's
that, my young fellow." In his relief Luke tossed his cap into the air.
"The young rascal!" he cried joyfully; "fancy his never having told me
he'd got a letter from his Worship, and me expecting that letter for
the last three days, and getting stomach-ache with worry at its not
coming! And saying he was off to a certain place, too! A nice fright
he's given me. But thank'ee, gaffer, thank'ee kindly. And here's
something for you to drink the health of Master Ranulph Chanticleer,"
and with a heart as light as a bird's, he began to retrace his steps
down the valley.
But what was that faint sound behind him? It sounded suspiciously like
the Ho, ho, hoh! of that impudent Willy Wisp, who for a short time, had
been one of his Worship's grooms.
He stopped, and looked round. No one was visible except the old
goatherd in the distance, leaning on his stick. What he had heard could
have been nothing but the distant tinkle of the goat bells.
When he reached the farm, he found it in a tumult. The little boys had
frightened Hazel out of her wits, and confirmed her worst fears by the
news that "Master Ranulph had run away towards the hills, and that
Master Hempen had run after him."
"Granny!" cried Hazel, wringing her hands, "a messenger must be sent
off post-haste to the Seneschal!"
"Stuff and nonsense!" cried the widow, angrily. "You mind your own
business, miss! Long before any messenger could reach Lud, the lads
will be back safe and sound. Towards the hills, indeed! That Luke
Hempen is a regular old woman. It's just a bit of Master Ranulph's fun.
He's hiding behind a tree, and will jump out on them with a 'Boo!'
Never in my life have I heard so much fuss about nothing." And then,
turning to the farm-servants, who were clustering round the children
with scared, excited eyes, she bade them go about their business, and
let her hear no more nonsense.
Her words sounded like good sense, but, for all that, they did not
convince Hazel. Her deep distrust of the widow was almost as old as
herself, and her instinct had told her for some time that the widow was
hostile to Ranulph.
Never for a moment did Hazel forget that she, not the widow, was the
rightful owner of the farm. Should she for once assert her position,
and, in direct defiance of the widow, report what had happened to the
law-man of the district and send a messenger to Master Nathaniel?
But, as everybody knows, legal rights can be but weaklings--puny little
child princes, cowed by their bastard uncles, Precedent and Seniority.
No, she must wait till she was of age, or married, or ... was there any
change of condition that could alter her relations with the widow, and
destroy the parasite growth of sullen docility which, for as long as
she could remember, had rotted her volition and warped her actions?
Hazel clenched her fists and set her teeth ... she would assert
herself!--she would!... now, at once? Why not give them, say, till
noon, to come back? Yes, she would give them till noon.
But before then, a rather shame-faced Luke arrived with his confession
that Master Ranulph had made proper fools of them.
"So, Miss Hazel, if you'll give me a bite of something, and lend me
a horse, I'll go after the young scamp to Moongrass. To think of his
giving us the slip like that and never having told me he'd heard from
his father! And there was me expecting a letter from his Worship every
day, telling us to leave at once, and...."
Hazel raised her eyebrows. "You were expecting a letter ordering you to
leave us? How was that?"
Luke turned red, and mumbled something inaudible. Hazel stared at him
for a few seconds in silence, and then she said quietly, "I'm afraid
you were wise if you asked the Seneschal to remove Master Ranulph."
He gave her a shrewd glance. "Yes ... I fear this is no place for
Master Ranulph. But if you'd excuse me for being so bold, miss, I'd
like to give you a word of warning--don't you trust that Endymion Leer
further than you can see him, and don't you ever let your Granny take
you out fishing!"
"Thank you, Master Hempen, but I am quite able to look after myself,"
said Hazel haughtily. And then an anxious look came into her eyes. "I
hope--oh! I hope that you'll find Master Ranulph safe and sound at
Moongrass! It's all so ... well, so very strange. That old goatherd,
who do you suppose he was? One meets strange people near the Elfin
Marches. You'll let me know if all is well ... won't you?"
Luke promised. Hazel's words had dampened his spirits and brought back
all his anxiety, and the fifteen miles to Moongrass, in spite of a good
horse, seemed interminable.
Alas! there was no Ranulph at the Jellygreens' farm; but, to Luke's
bewilderment, it turned out that the farmer had been expecting him, as
he had, a few days previously, received a letter from Master Nathaniel,
from which it was clear that he imagined his son was already at
Moongrass. So there was nothing for Luke but, with a heavy heart, to
start off the next morning for Lud, where, as we have seen, he arrived
a few hours after Master Nathaniel had left it.