mutton-pasty.
"We met the Lean Man again to-day," said one presently, in between two
goodly mouthfuls.
"And what said he to you?"
"Naught. He wore as broken a look as ever I saw, and when we rode at
him with a shout----"
"Lads, lads, fight men less skilled at sword-play than the Lean Man,"
put in Shameless Wayne, smiling the while at their spirit.
"But he fled from us, Ned--minding the night, I warrant, when we took
him in the back with yond stone ball. Yet they say he's always like
that now; Nanny Witherlee tells me he sees the Dog at the side of every
Wayne among us, and flees from that, not from us."
"Nanny is a fond old wife, with more tales on her tongue-tip than hairs
on her thinning thatch."
"Yet--dost mind what I saw, too, that night in the garden?" said
Mistress Wayne. "Brown, blunt-headed--I can see him yet, Ned, as he
fawned against thy side."
Wayne did not answer, though he paled a little, and soon he made excuse
to leave them.
"Where art going, Ned? We've fifty tales to tell thee of the day's
sport," cried Griff.
"But have I idleness enough to listen, ye careless rascals?" laughed
Wayne from the door. "I must see Hiram Hey and make all ready against
to-morrow's work."
"Thou'lt not find him, for he was going into the Friendly Inn with
shepherd Jose as we passed through Ling Crag."
"Was he?" growled the other. "Hiram is a poor drinker by his own
showing, and a man with no spare time on his hands--but he has worn many
a tavern threshold bare, I'll warrant, since he first learned to set
lips to pewter."
And, indeed, Hiram wore a leisurely air enough at the moment. Stretched
at his ease on the wide lang-settle of the Friendly Inn, he was handling
a mug of home-brewed and watching the crumbling faces in the peat-fire,
while shepherd Jose talked idly to him from the window.
"There's somebody got four gooid legs under him," said Jose, as the
racket of horse-hoofs came up the road.
"Ay, by th' sound. Who is't, Jose?" answered Hiram lazily.
"Why, Mistress Janet fro' Wildwater. She's a tidy seat i' th' saddle,
hes th' lass," said the shepherd, pressing his face closer to the glass
to see the last of her.
"A wench can hev a tidy seat i' th' saddle, an' yet be leet as
thistle-down."
"Ay, but she hes a snod way wi' her, an' all. I've thowt, whiles, she
hed more o' th' free, stand-up look o' th' Waynes about her nor her
breed warrants."
"Well, there's some say that, if wishes war doings, she'd hev a Wayne
name to her back," said Hiram, shifting to an easier posture.
"Nowt o' th' sort!" put in the shepherd warmly. "Th' young Maister may
hev been a wild-rake, an' he may be wilful i' farming-matters an'
sich--but he'd niver foul th' owd name by gi'eing it to a Ratcliffe."
"That's as may be. But young blood's young blood, an' she's winsome to
look at, as nawther thee nor me can deny."
"There war summat betwixt 'em, now I call to mind, afore this last brew
o' trouble war malted. I've heard tell o' their meeting i' th' owd days
up by th' kirk-stone when they thowt nobody war looking. But that's
owered wi'. Tha doesn't fancy there could be owt o' th' sort now,
Hiram?--Theer, get thy mug filled up, lad, for tha needs a sup o' strong
drink to brace thee for th' long day's sheep-weshing to-morn."
"I'll hev my mug filled, Jose, lad--though I'm no drinker--an' I'll keep
my thowts about th' Maister an' th' Wildwater lass to myseln. But I've
seen what I've seen--ay, not a three week sin'--an' if iver tha hears
'at two folk are courting on th' sly, doan't thee say I didn't tell thee
on 't, that's all."
"What didst see, like, a three week sin'?" asked Jose the shepherd, his
head tilted gossip-wise to one side.
"Nay, I war niver one to spread tales abroad, not I. But it warn't a
mile fro' where I'm sitting now, on th' varry road 'at runs past th'
tavern here, that I happened on two folk standing fair i' th' middle o'
th' highway. An' one war fearful like the Maister, an' t' other warn't
so different fro' Mistress Ratcliffe; an' they war hugging one another
summat fearful."
"Now, come, Hiram! Gossip's gossip, but I'll noan believe that sort o'
talk about th' Maister."
"That's as it pleases thee, lad. I nobbut said 'at th' couple I saw war
like as two peas to him an' Mistress Janet. Ay, an' they'd getten dahn
fro' their hosses, an' she war crying like a gooid un i' his arms.
Well, 'tis as Nanny Witherlee is allus saying, I fear me--if a
blackberry's nobbut out o' reach, ye'll find all th' lads i' th' parish
itching for 't."
"Well, I mun tak thy word for owt to do wi' courting," said the shepherd
drily. "Tha'rt framing to learn nowadays thyseln, so they tell me."
"An' what about thee?" cried Hiram, roused from the tranquil gaiety
which his bit of gossip afforded him. "I'd think shame, if my hair war
as white as thine, Jose, to turn sheep's eyes on a young wench like
Martha."
Jose chuckled, as if he could tell much but would not, and Hiram Hey
grew more and more disquieted as he wondered if, after all, he had gone
too slow with the first and last great courtship of his life.
While Hiram sat nursing his mug, and while the shepherd kept a quizzing
eye upon his moodiness, the inn door was thrown open and three
rough-headed fellows stamped noisily into the bar. "It smells foul,"
said one, stopping at sight of Hiram and the shepherd, and holding his
nostrils between a dirt-stained thumb and forefinger.
"Ay," said another, "it's th' Wayne smell--ye can wind 'em like foxes
wheriver ye leet on their trail."
"Yond's Wildwater talk," said Hiram to the shepherd, not shifting his
position on the settle. "They're reared on wind up yonder, an' it gets
into their tongues, like."
"Thee shut thy mouth, Hiram Hey; tha'rt ower owd to gi'e lip-sauce to
lusty folk," said the foremost of the Wildwater trio, coming to the back
of the settle and leaning threateningly over the old man.
Hiram lifted himself slowly into a sitting-posture. "There's _breed_ i'
us owd uns," he said; "th' race weakened by th' time it got to sich as
thee."
"We'll see about that," said his assailant, and stooped quickly, his
hands toward Hiram's throat.
But Hiram shot out his arms with unlooked-for vigour, and gripped his
man under the arm-pits, and pulled him like a kitten over the high back
of the lang-settle. Then he got to his feet, still hugging the other
close, and gave a steady swing, and landed him clean over his left
shoulder on to the sanded floor-stones.
"If awther o' ye others hes owt to say, I'm noan stalled yet," said
Hiram, dropping to his seat again.
The fallen man did not move for a space; and then he clapped a hand to
one knee with an oath. "There's summat broken," he groaned.
"Likely," put in Hiram Hey. "I've hed chaps mell on me afore, an' it
mostly ends th' same way."
The two who were still unhurt helped their comrade to the door, and
turned for a sour look at Hiram. "Turn an' turn about," said one;
"there's summat i' bottle for all ye Wayne chaps, an' I'll look to thee
myseln, Hiram Hey, when th' chance comes."
"Summat i' bottle, is there?" said the shepherd, after they had gone.
"Th' Lean Man hes been fearful quiet lately; I feared he war hatching
weasel-eggs. Ay, an' his men hev been quiet, an' all; 'tis mony a week
sin' we hed ony sort o' moil wi' 'em."
"Well, I'm stalled o' wondering what's to happen next," said Hiram,
yawning with great content. "I war all a-shiver when th' feud first
broke out, an' ivery day I looked to be shotten at th' least, if not
sliced up wi' a sword at after. But th' days jog on somehow, an'
there's nowt mich comes to cross th' farm-wark."
"Yond war a shrewd lift o' thine, Hiram," said the shepherd presently,
seating himself at the other side of the hearth.
"I learned to lift, lad, when I war a young un; an' ye doan't loss that
sort o' trick so easy. 'Tis weel enough for these lads to be all for
fighting wi' their fists--but let me get to grips wi' a man when he
means mischief, say I, an' he'll noan do me mich harm.--Now, Jose, art
bahn to get another mug-full? I'm fain o' laziness to-neet, an' I could
weel sup another quart, though I'm nowt mich at drinking myseln."
Janet, meanwhile, had ridden straight home to Wildwater after passing
the window of the Friendly Inn, and had encountered Red Ratcliffe as she
led her horse round to stable.
"Dost ride from Marsh?" he sneered, blocking the stable-door.
"From seeing a better man than thou? Nay. I have no dealings with
Wayne of Marsh."
"Thou'lt have no chance of such dealings by and by."
"Indeed?" Lifting her brows a little, but disdaining to ask his leave
to pass the door. "Indeed, Ratcliffe the Red? I thought--it might have
been but fancy--that somehow thou didst shirk talk with Wayne of Marsh?"
"The Lean Man does--but there's younger blood than his to carry on the
feud. We're sick of waiting for the call that never comes, and soon we
mean to show Nicholas that what he has not wit to compass, we can."
"So eager to clinch the bargain?" she mocked. "Should I make thee a
good wife, think'st thou?--There, take him to stall thyself," she added,
putting the bridle into his hand. "I _know_ thou canst stable a horse,
if thou hast scant knowledge of how to woo a maid."
"'Tis a knowledge I may gather by and by--and thou shall teach me," he
answered, meeting her eye with more than his accustomed boldness.
*CHAPTER XIX*
*HOW WAYNE KEPT THE PINFOLD*
The marshland beyond Robin Hood's Well was noisy this morning with the
shouts of men, the sharp, impatient bark of dogs, the shrill bleating of
sheep. A warm, lush-hearted day of June it was, with a yellow sun
rising clear of the flaked strips of cloud that hung about the middle
blue of heaven, and a low wind shaking the budding heather-tips and
wrinkling the surface of standing pools; just such a day as fitted a
sheep-washing, for wind and sun together would be quick to dry the
fleeces.
The washing-pools stood a few yards away from the stream that ran
through Goblin Ghyll, and were no more than deepish holes dug out of the
peat, bottomed and walled with sandstone blocks and rendered water-tight
in a measure by lumps of marl worked in between the fissures of the
stones. A narrow channel, fitted with a sluice-gate at the upper end,
connected the streamway with the pools. On the right hand of each pool
was a walled enclosure, into which the flocks were driven from the moor;
on the left, a similar pinfold received the sheep as they were washed,
and kept them penned there until each batch was ready to be driven off
by its own shepherd.
Altogether, what with vigour of the sun-rays, and leisurely haste of
loose-limbed shepherd folk, and brisk to-and-froing of excited dogs, the
scene was a stirring one, contrasting strangely with the eerie hush
which was wont to hang over this land of marsh and peat. Hiram Hey was
there, his old heart warmed by the abuse, commands and ridicule which he
dispensed with a free tongue to all comers. Jose the shepherd was
there, with a kindly eye and a word in season for each particular member
of his flock. There were other shepherds, too, from outlying portions
of the Wayne lands, and thick-thewed farm-lads, and youngsters no more
than elbow-high who, under pretence of helping to collect the flocks
from off the moor, tried sorely the tempers of the blunt-headed,
sagacious sheep-dogs, whose manoeuvres were thrice out of four times
defeated by the interference.
"Well, Hiram, hast getten owt to say agen th' weather?" said Jose,
splashing into the pool.
Hiram grasped the first of the ewes securely by its fleece, and half
pushed, half pulled it to the brink. "Owt to say agen th' weather? I
should think I hev!" he cried.
"I thowt as mich, lad. Trust thee to hev thy grumbles, choose what,"
panted the other, as he took the sheep bodily into his arms and plunged
it under water.
"'Tis varry weel for ye poor herding folk to thank th' Lord for all this
power of sun. But us as hes likelier wark--tilling, tha knaws, an' sich
like--it fair breaks a body's heart, that it does. There's yond Low
Meadow war bahn to yield th' bonniest crop o' hay iver tha set een on,
if we'd nobbut hed a sup o' rain; an' now 'tis brown as a
penny-piece--ay, fair dried i' th' sap, it is. But ye poor, shammocky
sheep-drivers think there's nowt save ewes an' tups i' th' world."
"Poor, are we, say'st 'a?" snapped the shepherd who was working
alongside Jose in the pool.
"Ay, poor as rattens," answered Hiram. "I allus did say a sheep war th'
gaumless-est thing 'at iver went on four legs."
"There's folk more gaumless goes on two," put in Jose; "an' tha's getten
a lob-sided view o' sheep, Hiram Hey; tha's all for beasts, an' hosses,
an' pigs, an' tha willun't see 'at sheep are that full o' sense----"
The shepherd got no further with his speech; for the ewe which was being
pushed toward the brink took a wild leap on the sudden, and landed fair
into his arms before he had got his feet well planted on the bottom; and
sheep and man went under the grey greasiness that covered the surface of
the pool.
"Ay, they're sensible chaps, is sheep," said Hiram drily, while he
watched the shepherd rub the water out of eyes and hair. "A beast
now--nay, I'm thinking a calf wod hev hed more wit nor that."
"Well, an' wodn't tha knock dahn ony chap that framed to souse thee?"
retorted Jose, undaunted still. "'Tis nobbut one more proof o' their
sperrit.--Theer, lass, theer! Jose noan wants to wrangle wi'
thee--theer, my bonnie--" His voice dropped into inarticulate murmurs
as he took a fresh hold of the sheep and fell to rubbing her wool with a
long arm and a knotty.
"Will th' young Maister be coming up, think ye?" asked a farm-hand by
and by.
"He will that, if I knaw him," said Hiram grimly. "He telled me last
forenooin he war coming to see 'at ye all kept to it.--Now, lads, will
ye frame, or mun I come an' skift ye wi' my foot? I niver see'd sich a
shammocky, loose-set lot o' folk i' all my days. Tom o' Thorntop, get
them ewes penned, dost hear? Seems tha'd like to keep me ut laking all
th' day while tha maks shift to stir thyseln."
The work went steadily forward, and soon the pinfolds on the far side of
each of the two pools were all but full of ewes, shivering in their
snowy fleeces. Neither did jest and banter flag, nor the gruff oaths of
the shepherds as they gathered their flocks together under Hiram's
wide-reaching eye.
"We mun hev a bit o' dinner i' a while," said Jose at last; "I'm as dry
as a peck o' hay-seeds."
"I'll warrant," growled Hiram, and for sheer contrariness went off to
see that a new flock was penned ready for the washing.
He gave a glance at the sun as he turned, and another across the sweep
of peatland. "Begow, but it's bahn to be a warm un, is th' day, afore
we've done wi' it," he muttered. "Th' heat-waves fair dance again ower
Wildwater way. An' yond grass i' th' Low Meadow 'ull be drying as if
ye'd clapped it i' an oven.--What, there's more coming to wesh sheep, is
there? They'll hev to bide, I'm thinking, for a tidy while."
"What's agate ower yonder, Hiram?" called one of the shepherds. "Tha's
getten thy een on summat, by th' look on ye."
"There's a big lot o' sheep coming, though they're ower far off for me
to tell who belongs 'em," said Hiram, shading his eyes with both hands.
Two or three left work and crowded about him. The flock came nearer,
followed by a press of men on foot and men on horseback.
"By th' Heart!" cried one. "They're Wildwater sheep, yond; I can see
th' red owning-mark on their backs."
"Ay. Lonks they are, if my een's gooid for owt," said Hiram.
No man looked at his neighbour, and none spoke of those who rode behind
the sheep, though the red-headed horsemen, sword on thigh, were twice as
plain to be seen as the breed of sheep they brought to washing.
Silently Hiram and his fellows returned to work; silently the Ratcliffes
rode forward to the pinfold walls, while their farm-folk followed with
the sheep.
Red Ratcliffe peered over the wall-top of the nearer pin-fold, and
affected vast surprise at sight of the busy stir within. "What is this,
lads?" he cried, turning to his kinsfolk.
"'Twould seem there's more than one has marked how fair a washing day it
is," answered another, showing a like surprise. "They're not content
with one pool, either, but must use them both."
"Whose sheep should they be, think ye? They're sadly lean, once they
are rubbed free of dirt," went on Red Ratcliffe, who seemed to be the
leader of the band.
"Nay, if there's aught poor in breed, father it on a Wayne," said the
other.
Red Ratcliffe fixed his eyes on Hiram Hey, who was watching the pool
with that daft air of simplicity which was his staunchest weapon in
times of peril.
"We want to wash our sheep," said Ratcliffe.
Hiram lifted his head. "Oh, ay? Well, we shall noan keep ye long--say
till six o' th' afternooin," he answered, and resumed his contemplation
of the pool.
"Six of the afternoon? 'Tis easy to be seen, sirrah, that thou hast a
taste for jesting," said Red Ratcliffe.
"We've scant time for jests, Maister, an' I'm telling ye plain truth.
Ay, we'll be done by six o' th' clock, for sure--or mebbe a two-three
minutes afore, if these feckless shepherds 'ull bestir theirselns.
Jose, what dost tha think?"
"Think?" echoed Jose, rubbing hard and fast at the fleece of an old
bell-wether. "Well, mebbe we shall win through by half-after five--but
there's niver no telling."
Red Ratcliffe curbed his temper; for he had known many moor folk in his
time, and this trick of "shamming gaumless" was no new one to him. He
changed his key accordingly, seeing that his own rough banter would
stand no chance against Hiram's subtler wit.
"Clear the pens of yond murrain-rotted ewes; we've some whole-bodied
sheep to wash," he said peremptorily.
"Clear th' pens?" said Hiram, scratching his head. "Well, we're framing
to clear 'em, fast as iver we can. An' as for th' ewes--there's been no
murrain among Wayne sheep these five year past."
"Cease fooling, thou lousy dotard! Dost think we've come all the way
from Wildwater only to go back again because we find a handful of
yokels, belonging to God-know-whom, fouling the water of the pond?"
"Honest muck fouls no pools, an' I thowt onybody wod hev knawn we
belonged to Wayne o' Marsh. Ay, for ye allowed as mich a while
back--seeing, I warrant, what well-set-up chaps we war."
"Begow, that's th' first we've heard on 't fro' owd Hiram," muttered
Jose the shepherd, chuckling soberly as he dipped another ewe.
"Ay," went on Hiram placidly, "there's none denies 'at th' Wayne
farm-folk can best ony others i' th' moorside."
"Tha lees, Hiram Hey! Man for man, ye're childer to us as warks at
Wildwater," cried one of the Ratcliffe yokels, gathering courage from
the armed force about him.
"Settle that quarrel as best pleases you," cried Red Ratcliffe sharply;
"meanwhile 'tis work, not talk, and if yonder pool is not cleared by the
time I've counted ten--well, there'll be more than sheep dipped in it."
Hiram looked at him with a puzzled air. "Theer!" he said. "Th' gentry
mun allus hev their little jests, an' I'll laugh wi' th' best, Maister
Ratcliffe, when I find myseln a thowt less thrang. But orders is
orders, th' world ower, an' when young Maister says 'at a thing's getten
to be done, it's getten to be done."
"Where is your Master?" snapped the other. "'Tis a poor farmer lies
abed while his hinds play."
Hiram's glance was a quick one this time, quenched under his rough grey
eyebrows as soon as given. "So ye thowt he'd be here this morn?" he
said. "Nay, he's noan a lie-abed, isn't th' Maister, but he's getten
summat else to do."
"Has he? And what might that be?" said Red Ratcliffe softly.
"Shall I tell him?" muttered Hiram, half audibly. Then, after a pause
of seeming doubt, "He's cutting grass i' th' Low Meadow," he said.
"Cutting grass at this time of year?"
"Ay, for sure. Wildwater land ligs cold, an' ye're late wi' crops up
yonder; but th' grass lower dahn is running so to seed that it war no
use letting it bide a day longer. It 'ull be poor hay as 'tis, an' all
along o' this unchristian weather."
"So he'll not come to the sheep-washing?" broke in Red Ratcliffe, with a
glance at his fellows.
"I've telled ye so," said Hiram, "an' telling ye twice willun't better a
straight tale."
"I'm thinking Hiram hes a soft spot i' his heart for young Maister; I've
niver knawn him tell so thick a lee afore," muttered shepherd Jose, as
he went forward with his work.
Red Ratcliffe, looking down the streamway and wondering whether it were
worth while to insist on his claim to the pool, laughed suddenly and
jerked his bridle-hand in the direction of a horseman who had turned the
bend of the track below and jumped the stream.
"Shameless Wayne will come to the washing after all," he said, and
waited, stiff and quiet in the saddle, till Wayne of Marsh should cross
the half-mile that intervened.
"I war mista'en, seemingly. Th' Maister mun hev crossed straight fro'
th' grass-cutting," said Hiram, putting a bold face on it to hide a
sinking heart.
The old man turned his back on the Ratcliffes, and his face to the
upcoming horseman, whose head was thrust low upon his shoulders as if
some gloomy trend of thought were dulling him to all sights and sounds
of this fair June day.
"I framed weel, an' I could do no more," he said to himself; "but sakes,
why couldn't he hev bided a while longer? Th' Ratcliffes 'ud hev been
off to th' Low Meadow i' a twinkling, if I knaw owt.--What's to be done,
like? He's a wick un to fight, is th' Maister, but there's seven o'
these clever Dicks fro' Wildwater, an' that's longish odds."
Hiram stood for awhile, puzzled and ill-at-ease, watching his master
draw slowly nearer to the pools; and then his face brightened on the
sudden as he shuffled across to where two shepherd lads were talking
affrightedly together.
"Set your dogs on a two-three sheep, an' drive 'em downhill, an' reckon
to follow 'em," he whispered. "Then ye'll meet Maister--an' a word i'
his lug may save him fro' a deal. An' waste no time, for there's none to
be lessen."
The lads, catching the spirit of it, had already got their dogs to work
when Red Ratcliffe's voice brought them to a sudden halt; for Ratcliffe,
mistrusting fellows of Hiram's kidney, had marked his whispering and
guessed its purpose.
"Come back, ye farm louts!" he cried, and turned to Hiram with a sneer.
"Art fullish of wit, thou think'st? Dost mind how once before we
matched wits, thou and I?"
"I mind," said Hiram. "'Twas when I told ye where th' Marsh peats war
stored--but ye didn't burn mich wi' 'em, Maister, if I call to mind."
Red Ratcliffe laughed at the retort; for his eyes were on the horseman
down below, and his mood was almost playful now that his prey seemed
like to come so tame to hand.
"I'm flaired for th' Maister this time, that I am," muttered Hiram, as
he, too, glanced down the slope; "but being flaired niver saved onybody
fro' a bull's horns, as th' saying is, so I mun just bide still an' keep
my een oppen."
The Ratcliffes passed a smile and a jest one to the other as they saw
Shameless Wayne draw near and marked the heavy gloom that rested on him;
for it pleased them that the man they loathed should have bitterness for
his portion during the few moments he had yet to live.
Wayne did not glance up the moor until he had ridden within ten-score
yards of them. He half drew rein on seeing the seven red-headed
horsemen waiting for him on the hill-crest; and Red Ratcliffe, thinking
he meant to turn about, was just calling his kinsmen to pursue when he
saw Wayne drive home his spurs and ride straight up to meet them.
"Bide where ye are," said Red Ratcliffe then. "He's courteous as ever,
this fool of Marsh, and would not trouble us to gallop after him."
"'Tis like him; he war allus obstinate as death, an' wod be if th' Lord
o' Hell stood up agen him," groaned Jose the shepherd, as he left the
water and joined the knot of farm-folk who stood aloof, expectant, and
doubtful for their own safety and the Master's.
"I give you good-day, Wayne of Marsh," called Red Ratcliffe.
"I shall fare neither better nor worse for the same. What would you?"
answered Wayne, halting at thrice a sword's-length from the group.
"Why, we would wash our sheep, and yonder rough-tongued hind of thine
refused us. So, said I, as I saw you riding up the slope, 'We'll ask
the Master's leave, and of his courtesy he'll grant it.'"