CHECKMATE
The haversacks were behind him on the bank of the brook. Sam, for his
part, turned upon Dick with a ferocious oath, and a fresh demand for
the money. Of the whining, puling, weeping Raven they took no notice
whatever. No notice! Ah, ha, Messrs. Long Legs and Fiery Nose, you
are making the mistake of a lifetime.
No sooner was their attention drawn from him than the Raven made his
leap, swift and silent as a charging panther. He darted upon the stout
tramp, whose back was towards him, as its owner bent over the
haversacks. Chippy placed both hands against a certain portion of the
tramp's person which afforded him an excellent purchase, and gave a
tremendous shove. Fiery Nose stumbled forward, caught his feet in the
haversacks, grabbed wildly in the air to save himself, found nothing to
fill his clutch, and pitched head first over the edge of the bank into
the deep, slow brook. Crash! Splash! he went into the pool, and the
water leapt like a fountain under his terrific plunge. But the Raven
did not stay to observe the success of his manoeuvre. Quick as a trout
in a stream he was off at full speed, but he had the haversacks tucked
safely in his arms.
Round whirled the younger tramp in time to see his comrade hit the
water. He swung up his stick for a blow at the nimble gliding Raven,
but as he sprang at the scout, Dick thrust his staff between the long
legs, tripped him up, and sent him sprawling with his face in the hot,
smouldering ashes. Chippy was already racing for the road, and Dick
followed at top speed.
In a moment the tramp was on his feet, and dashing the wood ashes out
of his eyes and hair. Then he caught up the stick which had flown from
his hand and pursued the fugitives, a wild medley of execrations
pouring from his lips. In the pool Fiery Nose wallowed and blew like a
grampus, and howled for help.
Dick looked back and saw the long-legged tramp covering the ground at a
tremendous pace. He was a big, powerful fellow, and was armed with an
ugly club. The scouts were not out of the wood yet. They turned a
corner and saw the gateway with no gate close before them. An idea
shot into Dick's head.
'Run straight ahead, Chippy,' he called. 'Leg it down the road.'
The Raven made no reply. He obeyed orders, feeling sure that his
comrade had a reason for what he said.
The boys shot through the gateway, and Dick turned abruptly and dropped
down beside it. The gateway was a couple of posts on which a wicket
had once swung, nothing more. But a thick bramble-bush grew beside the
right-hand post, and in cover of this bush Dick was crouching. He
peered through the bush and saw the tramp come tearing round the bend.
The rascal saw Chippy disappearing over the bridge, and thought the
second fugitive had already vanished. He roared a fresh set of
exceedingly impolite remarks and wishes, and came on like a tornado in
full career. And as he charged into the narrow gateway, a stout patrol
staff slid across, and was laid on the inner sides of the posts. He
never even saw it, so madly was he bent on his pursuit, and it did its
work to a miracle. He put one foot fairly under it, and as he rose to
his wild bound the staff took him a little above the ankle and tripped
him up. The surprise was so complete that he could not save himself.
He came down headlong on the hard causeway, and ploughed up the gravel
for a foot or more with his features.
The crash knocked all the wind out of him: it deserted his body in a
fierce whistling sound, something between a grunt and a howl, and he
was half-stunned besides, with his nose flattened into his face.
Dick gave a yell of delight, whipped out his staff--the stout bit of
tough ash had taken the shock with hardly a quiver--and raced after his
comrade. Chippy was a good way down the road, and when he glanced
back, Dick waved his stick in triumph. The Raven at once eased to
allow his friend to come up, and Dick shouted the glad news as he
joined his comrade.
Chippy shouted with delight. 'He's done for,' cried the Raven. 'A1,
that was. No more runnin' for 'im just yet. That was splendid, Dick.'
The boys swung their haversacks across their shoulders and continued
their way at a steady, loping trot.
'Oh, Chippy,' cried Dick, 'but yours was the splendid dodge, the way
you took those fellows in! They never dreamed but that you were sick
with fright. How did you manage it?'
'Oo,' said the Raven, 'there ain't nothin' in that. Anybody can mek'
believe to cry and beg for mercy, like.'
'Ah,' cried Dick, 'but there were real tears streaming down your face,
Chippy. How did you do that?'
'Easy as easy,' replied the Raven. 'Yer just jab yer fingers in the
corner o' yer eyes. I'll show yer.'
'Thanks,' laughed Dick. 'I'll take your word for it, old boy. It
doesn't sound too delightful.'
'I wonder if the old un's out o' the pool yet,' said Chippy, as they
trotted on, and the scouts shouted with laughter as they recalled his
terrific plunge.
'The other can go back and help his friend out when he's got his wind
again,' said Dick.
'Rough on the pool, though,' muttered the Raven; 'that nose o' his wor
enough to mek' the water boil.'
'What luck to lose nothing!' cried Dick.
'Barrin' my stick,' put in Chippy.
'Why, yes,' replied Dick. 'Upon my word, I hadn't noticed that. Of
course, your hands were filled with the haversacks, and your staff has
been left on the bank where we were resting.'
'Ne'er mind,' said the Raven; 'it's wot we could best afford to lose.
Soon cut another.'
The boys did not check their pace until they reached a large village a
mile or more from the bridge, and then they dropped into their usual
scout's stride.
On the other side of the village they came to another bridge, this time
spanning a canal.
'Here we are,' said Dick, for the scouts intended to follow the towpath
into Newminster: it would save them a mile and a half of dusty
high-road.
They went down to the bank and started off along the side of the canal.
It was not a dirty piece of water, malodorous and unsightly, as canals
are in manufacturing centres: it was like a straight stretch of a
clear, beautiful river. There was a towpath only on the one side. The
other was a grassy border, where sedges and bulrushes grew, and cows
came down from the meadows to drink.
The scouts had barely gone half a mile when they came upon a barge
lying beside the bank. They glanced into its cabin as they went by,
and saw that a tiny fire was burning brightly in its stove, and that it
was a very trim, smart little place. But there was no bargeman, no
horse, no one; the barge seemed deserted. The boys went on, and soon
heard cries of anger and distress coming down the breeze. They broke
into the scouts' trot, turned a bend, and saw a stout lady pursuing a
white horse.
Chippy knew all about canals.
'Broke 'is tow-line, an' now he's 'ookin' it,' observed the Raven.
'Come on--scout's job 'ere.'
The old white horse was not hooking it very fast. There was no need
that he should. The stout lady jogged a few steps, then settled into a
walk. The old horse cropped the grass beside the water till she was
close at his heels, then he jogged off a little and settled down to
grazing again. But the active scouts soon settled his hash. They
passed the stout lady at full speed, and ran down the old nag within
fifty yards. Then Dick led him back to the barge-woman, who was
mopping a hot red face with a big red handkerchief.
'Well, I'm more'n a bit obliged to yer,' she panted, 'an' thank ye
kindly. The line parted, and I thought I never should ketch that
dratted ole creetur. Ah, ye good-for-nuthin',' she cried to the horse,
who now held down his nose and looked meekness itself, 'an' the good
missis I am to ye. Allus plenty to eat, and no whippin'.'
'He went off on a little beano,' said Chippy soothingly. 'Don't blame
'im. They all will when they get the chance. Now we'll rig 'im for ye
tight an' sound.'
The boys led the horse back to his deserted task, fished the broken
rope out of the water, and joined the parted ends with a sheet-bend
knot, such as all scouts learn to tie.
'Goin' to Newminster?' asked the bargewoman.
'Yes,' said Dick.
'In a hurry?'
'Not particularly,' he said.
'Why not ride along o' me? It ain't fast, but it's as easy as
anythin'.'
Now, neither scout would have confessed it to the other for worlds, but
each of them was feeling the three days' tramp a little; and besides,
the idea of gliding along the river-like canal on the barge, which was
very clean and gaily painted, was rather fascinating.
'You're very kind,' said Dick, and glanced at his comrade.
'I'd like it prime,' murmured Chippy.
'Jump on,' said the stout lady; and the scouts were aboard in an
instant.
Dick was less familiar with a barge than Chippy, and he inspected with
the deepest interest the snug, neat little cabin, as bright and clean
as a new pin, with its little stove, its narrow seats, its shelves, and
cupboards, with everything stowed away in shipshape fashion, the whole
place reminding him of a room in a big doll's house.
Chippy complimented the lady of the barge on the smartness of her ship.
'We keep it as tidy as we know 'ow,' she replied. 'Me an' my 'usband
we niver tek' dirty loads--coals, or anythin' like that. Crockery an'
earthenware we got under the canvas now'--and she nodded
forward--'that's the sort o' load for us. Queer thing the ole horse
broke loose this arternoon when I'm by myself, which don't often
happen. My man he's gone on to Newminster, an' there we'll stop
to-night.' Then she gave her attention to steering the barge round a
bend, while the old horse plodded along the bank as meekly as if
thoughts of running away could never enter his head.
In a quiet bend of the waterway the bargewoman roared 'Wo!' and the
white horse pulled up at once and whickered.
'Time for 'is nosebag,' she said, 'an' 'e knows it very well. An'
we'll have a cup o' tea. I allus pull up for that, an' tek' it quiet
an' comfortable, wi'out havin' to bother about steerin'.'
She fished out a tin bucket already filled with chaff, and proceeded to
climb ashore and hang it round the horse's head.
'Tea for three,' murmured the Raven. 'More grub;' and Dick smiled.
The meal was a very cheerful little affair. The scouts sat on the roof
of the cabin in the sunshine, with their cups beside them, and their
hostess spread butter liberally on the slices of a large cottage loaf,
and encouraged them to eat heartily, and set them a first-rate example
herself.
Over the teacups they chatted freely, and the boys explained their
movements. Among other things, they narrated their adventure of a few
hours ago with the tramps, and the bargewoman was very indignant.
'Lazy good-for-nothin' varmin--that's what I call them tramps!' she
cried. 'I know what I'd do wi' 'em. I'd take ivery man-jack of 'em by
the scruff o' his neck, an' set him at a job, that I would, as sure as
my name's Hester Slade. An' I'd say to him: "When that's done ye'll
get sommat to eat, an' not afore." That's wot I'd say. "Work or
starve!"' And Mrs. Slade waved the bread-knife above her head, as if
it were a sword flourished in defiance of the whole army of tramps in
general.