ROBBERS ON THE HIGHWAY.
At the first sound of the sudden rush of the three tramps, for such they
appeared to be, Jack had closed his hand on the money he held; then,
while the man with the bludgeon was talking, he sprang to his feet,
wrenched himself free from the man who held his collar, pocketed his
money, and faced the three ruffians. He squared up his fists, determined
not to part with his possessions without a struggle.
The man who had first seized him by the collar, a villainous,
squint-eyed, red-headed fellow, perceiving Jack’s determined manner,
cried, ‘Now, none o’ that ‘ere; tip over the brass an’ that ticker ye’ve
got at the end o’ that chain, or I’ll knock yer brains out.’
‘At ‘im, Toby,’ said he with the bludgeon in gruff tones. ‘We don’t want
ter stand ‘ere jawin’ till some one comes along.’ Uttering these words,
he ran in with upraised stick.
Jack seized his small portmanteau and hurled it at the ruffian’s legs,
causing him not only to yell with pain at the sharp rap he got on his
shins, but also to fall forward heavily on hands and knees. He uttered
an oath, and cried out to his two companions to ‘finish the young
whelp.’
Red-Head rushed in to do so; but Jack, who was a first-class boxer,
having won the gloves on two occasions at his old school, gave the
ruffian an upper cut on the point of the chin which dashed his teeth
together with a snap that sounded like the meeting of the jaws of a
rat-trap. The tramp badly bit his tongue, and he fell back, spitting out
blood.
Jack then started to run down towards the highroad, shouting, ‘Help!
help! Thieves!’ at the top of his voice.
He might have got safely away after all had it not been for tramp number
three. This scoundrel had hovered in the rear of his companions till he
saw Jack start off for the road, when, with a big stone which he had
picked up, he set off in pursuit. He was lean and long-legged, and he
gained at every stride on poor, tired Jack.
They hadn’t gone more than a dozen paces when he hurled the stone, a
jagged flint, which he held in his hand. This caught Jack on the knee,
and caused him to cry out in agony and come to a sudden stop, when the
three men threw themselves upon their victim, pommelling and dragging at
him as though they would tear every shred of clothes off his body.
However, Jack was not yet conquered, and he fought and tore, kicking,
scratching, and biting like a mad thing, yelling loudly for help, and
defying the efforts of the men to snatch from him his watch--his
father’s last present to him--or to tear from his pocket his little
stock of money.
Such a struggle, however, could not last long, and presently the man
with the bludgeon wrenched away Jack’s watch and chain. He then stood
by, waiting for an opportunity to give the lad a blow that should keep
him quiet while the others rifled his pockets, when all of a sudden he
cried out, ‘Ware, boys! there’s somebody comin’!’
The others paused in their work, and Jack gave another yell at the top
of his lungs, when the trampling of a horse sounded in his ears and an
angry voice cried out, ‘Now, you scum, what’s this?’ Then Red-Head, who
had Jack by the throat, was lifted bodily up by his scruff and his
ragged trousers, and hurled violently into the ditch beside the road.
Half-dazed, Jack glanced up to see in front of him a soldier facing the
remaining roughs. These seemed half-inclined to show fight; but the
soldier struck out with one gauntleted fist, and he who had thrown the
stone at Jack joined his companion in the ditch. For a moment they lay
there, then crawled out; upon which the soldier, running up to them,
applied the toe of his boot to their coat-tails in a most determined
manner, crying out at the same time, ‘Cut it, you rogues--cut it, or it
will be the worse for you.’
And cut it they did, breaking through the bushes and disappearing quite
as quickly as they had appeared.
Jack was so busy watching the punishment the two rogues were receiving
that he did not notice him with the bludgeon sneaking away. When he
turned, the fellow was just making off across the field behind them
towards some old barns standing amongst the trees. Jack remembered his
watch.
‘Oh sir, please!’ he cried to the soldier, ‘that fellow is going off
with my watch, the last gift of my dead father!’
‘Follow me,’ said the soldier curtly, and he swung himself on to his
horse, which during the struggle had stood quietly by on the very spot
where his master had dismounted.
The soldier put his horse at the hedge, which he took at a leap, and
Jack forced his way through the same gap that the tramp had. This fellow
could be seen scurrying away across the field; but the soldier,
touching his horse with his spurs, soon passed him. Then wheeling round
his horse so as to get the man between himself and Jack, he cried out,
‘Stop, you rogue, and give up that watch, or I’ll leather your hide for
you.’
The fellow turned round with a snarl; then raising his bludgeon he
hurled it with all his might at the soldier’s horse, evidently in the
hope of making it rear and throw its rider.
The stick caught the horse on the side of its head and did make it rear
in a way that would have unseated a less skilful rider than the soldier;
but he kept his seat with ease. Then, whipping his glittering sword from
its scabbard, in three bounds he placed his horse beside the tramp.
‘You scum! you jail-bird!’ he cried in angry tones, ‘I’ve a good mind to
cut you down or trample you under my horse’s hoofs.’
‘Please, sir--please, Mr Soldier, pity!’ cried the now thoroughly
frightened wretch.
‘Give up the watch,’ said the soldier, still threatening the tramp with
the point of his sword.
‘Yes, sir--yes, sir; there it is,’ and the man produced it from a
capacious pocket, Jack running forward and taking it from him.
‘Now, cut it!’ cried the soldier; and as the man turned to obey he gave
him half-a-dozen across the head and shoulders with the flat of his
sword, laying on so lustily that the rogue howled again with pain.
‘Now, lad, let’s get back,’ said the soldier kindly to Jack; and they
returned to the place where the scuffle had taken place and where Jack’s
portmanteau still lay.
The other two men had completely disappeared, which the soldier said
was a good thing, for it was a tedious job giving people into custody,
and, besides, he had no time to go dancing attendance at police-courts.
‘A good horse-whipping in many cases would do more good than three
months’ hard,’ he said, ‘and it’s less trouble.’
He then dismounted to examine his horse’s head and see whether it had
been hurt at all by the tramp’s bludgeon, and as he did so Jack took the
opportunity of closely examining him.
The soldier was a tall, fine, handsome-looking man, clad in
white-striped blue overalls, and a dark-blue jacket with white cuffs and
facings, on the arms of which several gold stripes betokened the wearer
to be a non-commissioned officer. Worn on the stripes was a silver badge
which attracted Jack’s attention. It was a grinning death’s-head
standing above two crossed shin-bones.
The soldier wore a head-dress with a white square top, from the left
side of which drooped a black plume, while on the plate in front the
same grisly death’s-head and cross-bones seemed to grin at the beholder.
Jingling spurs, a long sword trailing on the ground, and white leather
gauntlets completed the soldier’s attire.
Satisfying himself that his horse, a fine-looking black, was not hurt,
the soldier turned to Jack, and with a cheery smile said, ‘Well, my lad,
it seems to me I arrived on the scene just in the nick of time.’
‘You did indeed, sir, and I take this opportunity of rendering you my
heartfelt thanks.’
‘Not a word; ’twas nothing.’
‘Indeed it was everything. Had you not arrived I should have lost my
all; perhaps my life too, though, God knows, that would not have
troubled me much were it not for my poor mother.’
The soldier gave the boy a keen, penetrating glance. ‘You speak
despondingly for one so young,’ he said. ‘You seem down on your luck;
but cheer up, the longest lane must have a turning. How was it those
rogues came to attack you?’
In rather broken sentences Jack began to tell his tale. But the late
excitement he had passed through, coming on the top of great bodily
fatigue, proved too much for him, and in a minute he found himself
rambling in his speech; then the soldier seemed to be far, far away, and
Jack fell back in a dead faint.
When he again opened his eyes he was lying on the grass under the shadow
of some big trees. His head and neck felt deliciously cool, and putting
up his hand he found they were running with water. The soldier, having
divested himself of his gauntlets and gay plumed head-dress, was chafing
Jack’s hands, while a pleasing feeling of drowsiness pervaded him.
‘Come, young fellow,’ said the soldier, it seemed to Jack rather
anxiously, ‘you’ve had a long turn. I began to think you were a case for
the doctor’s hands.’
‘Oh I’m all right,’ said Jack doggedly, and tried to struggle to his
feet; but the soldier gently restrained him.
‘Wait a bit, sonny,’ he said; ‘just rest and pull yourself together.
You’ve had a nasty shock. But if you’ll remain quietly here for ten
minutes or so, there’s an inn near by where I can get you a mouthful of
brandy.’
‘Don’t you trouble; I’m all right,’ said Jack; and again he struggled to
his feet. But his knee pained him so badly, his feet were so sore, and
he felt so weak, that with a moan he sank back again upon the grass.
The kindly soldier adjusted the little portmanteau under his head and
again sprinkled his head and neck with cold water from the brook. Then
saying, ‘Now, lie quietly here till I come back,’ strode off; Jack, in a
semi-conscious state, watching the tall, soldierly figure disappear in
the distance.