Hare and Hounds
After the intense excitement of Ronnie's peril and subsequent rescue,
his friends at the Dower House found it a little difficult to settle
down into ordinary school routine. They could discuss no other topic,
and many were their speculations concerning the brown-jerseyed stranger
who had appeared in the very nick of time, and vanished afterwards
without waiting to be thanked. His identity had not been disclosed, and
when the girls spoke of him, Miss Birks, rather to their surprise,
dismissed the subject hurriedly.
"If he does not wish his brave deed to be acknowledged, we must respect
his silence," she said. "It is useless and futile to go further into the
matter."
Mrs. Trevellyan was for a few days prostrated from the effects of that
half-hour of suspense, but she had sufficiently recovered to attend
church on Sunday, and holding Ronnie's little hand tightly in hers,
knelt in the old Castle pew, with bent head and tears raining down her
cheeks, as the clergyman announced that a member of the congregation
desired to return special thanks for a very great mercy vouchsafed to
her during the past week. Others besides Mrs. Trevellyan joined with
heart-felt gratitude in that addition to the general thanksgiving, and
when afterwards the lines of the grand old hymn rang out--
"O God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come",
there was not a girl in the Dower House pews who did not sing it with
real meaning in the words.
On the Monday, Mrs. Trevellyan, hoping to recover from her nervous
attack more easily if she were out of sight of the sea, went away for a
short visit to an inland watering-place, taking Ronnie and poor contrite
Miss Herbert, who could not forgive herself for having allowed her young
charge to run into danger. Appreciating the wisdom of the step, and
realizing that her own girls had been in a state of high tension, and
were suffering from the consequent reaction, Miss Birks granted the
school a whole holiday, and took votes on how the day should be spent.
Opinions seemed divided, so it was finally decided that Forms VI and VA
should go by train to Linsgarth, look over the ruins of the abbey, and
walk home by road; while VB, containing the younger and more wildly
energetic spirits, should enjoy the pleasures of a game at hare and
hounds.
It was years since a paper chase had been held at the school, and while
the elder girls affected to despise it, the younger ones had plumped
for it in a body. They felt they required something more stirring than
admiring ruins and marching along a high road.
"It may be very cultured, and good taste, and intellectual, and all the
rest of it, to poke round with Miss Birks among Norman arches and broken
choir-stalls, but it doesn't work off steam," confessed Evie Bennett.
"I'm longing for a good sporting run, and that's the fact!"
"Let the Sixth talk architectural jargon if they like; hard exercise for
me!" agreed Betty Scott.
It was arranged that all should start out at ten o'clock; Miss Birks
conducting the expedition to Linsgarth, and Miss Harding assuming
command of the paper chase, while Mademoiselle, who was a bad walker and
disliked country excursions, promised herself a delightful day of rest
and leisure in the garden. Miss Birks insisted that there must be three
"hares", all solemnly pledged to keep well together, and the remaining
six, who were to be "hounds", had orders not to outstrip Miss Harding to
the extent of getting hopelessly out of eyeshot and earshot. Fortunately
Miss Harding was energetic and enthusiastic, and promised not to be a
drag on the proceedings. She donned her shortest skirt and her coolest
jumper, and discarding a hat, appeared fully ready to play as hearty a
part in the game as any of her pupils.
Everybody, naturally, was anxious to act "hare", so it was decided that
the fairest plan was to draw lots for the coveted posts. The three
fortunate papers with the crosses fell to Deirdre, Gerda, and Annie
Pridwell.
"I'm not jealous, but I do envy you dreadfully," confessed Evie Bennett.
"Oh, I'm not grumbling! I'm ready to take my sporting luck, and someone
must draw the blanks. You'll make capital hares, because you're all good
runners and don't lose your breath quickly. But, I beseech you, don't go
too fast! Remember, the hounds are tied to Miss Harding's apron-string.
It's no fun if we can't catch a glimpse of you the whole run. And,
please, do a little backwards-and-forwards work, cross a brook, or
double round a wood--anything to make it more difficult to find the
scent. We don't want to be home in a couple of hours."
"Trust us to be as cunning as foxes," declared Annie Pridwell. "I'm an
old hand at the game. We play it in the holidays at home."
"I haven't Annie's experience, but I can run," said Deirdre.
"So you can, best of anyone in the school, and Gerda's no slacker, so I
think you'll do."
Each girl had a packet of sandwiches and a small folding drinking-cup,
so that they could take some refreshment when they felt hungry. Miss
Birks had arranged that a cold lunch should be laid in the dining-hall
at the Dower House at one o'clock, and left on the table indefinitely,
so as to be ready for the girls when they came in, whether early or
late, and those who returned first were to help themselves without
waiting for the others.
"We shall all feel far more at liberty with this plan," she said. "It
spoils everyone's pleasure to have to hurry home by a certain time. It
is much more enjoyable to think we have the day free to do as we like.
We can have tea together in the evening, and compare our experiences."
"We shall have seen something worth seeing," declared the senior girls.
"Ah, but you won't have had the ripping, glorious time that we mean to
have!" retorted the members of VB.
Punctually at ten o'clock the three hares were ready, each with a
satchel round her shoulder containing the scraps of torn paper that were
to provide the scent. They were to have ten minutes' start, after which
the hounds would follow in full cry. They had decided among themselves
what route to take, and, determined to give the hunt a run, they
selected the direction of Kergoff, and set off towards the old windmill,
where in the early spring they had surveyed the country to draw maps, as
a lesson in practical geography. There was a definite reason for their
choice, as the windmill could be approached by no less than three
separate paths, and by dodging from one to another of these they hoped
very successfully to puzzle their pursuers.
"We'll leave some scent by the gate of Perkins's farm," said the
experienced Annie; "then, of course, they'll think we've chosen the road
past the quarry. But we'll only go a little way up the lane, then climb
the wall, cross the fields, and get into the upper road, leave a scent
there, then track through the wood, and go past the old yew tree by the
path over the tor."
"There'll be a scent on each separate path," chuckled Deirdre. "They'll
be a good long time in finding out which to follow. We must be careful
not to let ourselves be seen when we're crossing the tor."
There was a delightful interest in baffling the hounds; it seemed to
hold almost the thrill of earlier and more romantic times.
"Can you imagine the moss-troopers are after you?" asked Deirdre; "or
that you've slain the Red King, or robbed an abbot in the greenwood, and
are fleeing for your life to take sanctuary in the nearest church?"
"No, I'm a smuggler," said Annie, "trying to outwit the coast-guardsmen,
and arrange to leave my kegs of brandy and packets of tea and yards of
French lace in some cunning hiding-place. What are you, Gerda?"
"An escaped prisoner from Dartmoor, running from his warders?" queried
Deirdre. "That would be sport!"
"There's a warrant out for your arrest, and you're dodging the officers
of the law," laughed Annie lightly.
But Gerda did not appear to accept the suggestions kindly, or in the
spirit of fun in which they were intended. To the girls' surprise she
blushed, just as she used to do when first she came to school, and
looked so clearly annoyed instead of amused that the joke fell flat. She
was never at any time talkative, but now, taking seeming offence at
these very innocent remarks, she drew into her innermost shell, and
refused to converse at all. Knowing her of old in this uncommunicative
mood, the others did not trouble further, but left her to her own
devices until she chose to come out of it. They had found by experience
that it was useless either to question her, laugh at her, or rally her
upon her silence; the more they pressed the subject the more obstinate
she would grow. It was no great hardship to miss her out of their talk;
they much preferred each other's company without an unwelcome third.
"Those that sulk for nothing may sulk, so far as I'm concerned,"
remarked Deirdre pointedly.
"I hate people not to be able to take the least scrap of a joke," said
Annie. "Why, Betty and Evie and I are teasing each other the whole time
in our bedroom."
"You three certainly know how to rag."
"Rather! We'd die of dullness if we didn't."
All the time they went the "hares" were carefully carrying out their
policy of puzzling those who followed. Backwards and forwards, across
small brooks, through woods and thickets, over field, farm-yard, and
common they laid the most bewildering of scents, more than enough to
satisfy the demands of Evie Bennett, and sufficient indeed to make her
declare it almost an impossibility to decide on the right track. All
this artful dodging, however, had necessitated scattering a large number
of the precious handfuls of paper, and by the time they arrived at the
old windmill they found to their consternation that the contents of the
three satchels were almost exhausted.
"What are we to do?" asked Annie tragically. "We can't go on and leave
no scents! Are we to sit here on the windmill steps, and let ourselves
be run to earth when we've only done half the round?"
It was a crisis indeed, and Deirdre could not see any way out of the
difficulty. She stood ruefully contemplating her empty bag, and looking
utterly baffled. It was Gerda, after all, who came to the rescue with a
valuable suggestion.
"We're close to that queer old house," she said. "Don't you remember how
we climbed in through the window, and found all those letters lying
about upstairs? They can't be wanted, or somebody would have taken them
away. Let's go and see if they're still there, and commandeer what we
like."
"Gerda, you're a genius!" shrieked Annie. "We'll go this second. Why,
it's the very thing we want!"
It was no great distance to the old house. Down the corkscrew road they
ran, through the small fir wood, and over the river by the stone
bridge. "Forster's Folly" looked if possible even more tumbledown and
dilapidated than when they had visited it in February. The spring gales
had blown down many more slates and made a gap in the roof; the creepers
in their summer luxuriance almost hid the broken windows; large patches
of stucco had fallen from the walls; a chimney-pot lay smashed on the
front walk; one of the props of the long veranda had been swept away by
the whirling stream, leaving the flooring in a dangerous condition; and
the crop of nettles and brambles in the garden had outgrown all bounds
and, smothering the original privet hedge, overflowed into the road.
"It's more spooky and Rat's Hall-y and Moated Grange-y than ever!"
declared Annie. "I could imagine there'd been a witches' carnival since
we were last here, or a dance of ghouls. Ugh! I'm all in a shiver at
having to go inside! Suppose we find the ghost after all?"
"I'll chance ghosts," said Deirdre. "I'd be a great deal more frightened
to find a tramp there!"
"Oh, surely even a tramp wouldn't spend a night in such a haunted den!
Still, it's so deserted, it might be a place for smugglers or coiners or
burglars. Oh, I don't think I dare go in after all! No, I daren't!"
Annie was half-serious, and looking inclined to turn tail.
[Illustration: GERDA DARTED UPON THE BATHFUL OF OLD LETTERS _Page 201_]
"Don't show the white feather now," said Gerda reproachfully. "Where are
we to get our paper from?"
"Come along, Annie, and don't be an idiot!" was Deirdre's
uncomplimentary rejoinder. "Why, you were the first to go in before!"
"My nerves were stronger last February," protested Annie. "I'll let one
of you take the lead this time."
It was quite a pilgrimage through the nettle-grown garden to reach the
window where they had made their entrance into the house. It was open,
just as they had left it, but long trails of clematis swept across, and
there was an empty bird's nest on the corner of the sill. It did not
appear as if anyone had disturbed its quiet for months. This time Gerda
led the way, with a confidence and assurance that rather surprised the
other two. Through the dilapidated dining-room, along the dim mouldy
hall and up the creaking stairs they tramped, trying by the noise they
made to dispel the ghostly feeling that clung to the deserted old place.
If coiners, smugglers, or burglars had visited the house, they had left
no trace of their presence. Everything on the story above was untouched,
though perhaps a trifle more dust-covered and cobwebby than before.
Gerda darted upon the bathful of old letters, and with eager fingers
anxiously began turning them hurriedly over.
"Haven't time to sort them out," declared Annie, snatching up a handful
and putting them into her bag. "I vote we take what we want, and tear
them up outside. Why are you looking at them so particularly, Gerda?"
"I thought some might have crests. Do let me see what you've taken!"
said Gerda beseechingly. "No, I don't want these!"
"Why, you've never looked inside the envelopes! How can you tell whether
they've crests?"
"Oh, never mind! It doesn't matter!" Gerda was on the floor, searching
among some opened and torn sheets that lay on the mouldering straw.
"Look here! We can't stay all day while you read old Forster's
correspondence! We've got enough! Come along!"
"One minute! Oh, do wait for me a second! I'll come! Yes, I'll come in
half a jiffy!"
"We'll go without you, then you'll soon trot after us," said Deirdre,
who had filled her satchel. She and Annie clattered downstairs again,
looked into the empty kitchen, and dared each other to peep into the
dark hall cupboard. They had hardly waited more than a minute in the
dining-room when Gerda joined them.
"Well, have you found the orthodox long-lost will?" mocked Annie.
"I've got enough scent to take us back to Pontperran, and that's what I
wanted," retorted Gerda, with a light in her eyes that seemed almost
more than the occasion justified.
No more time must be lost if they did not want to be run to earth by the
hounds, so returning to the windmill steps they tore up their fresh
supply of paper, taking bites of their sandwiches while they did so. A
loud "Cuckoo!" in the distance caused all three to start to their feet
in alarm, and leaving a trail behind the broken sail, they scrambled
over a fence, and dived down through a coppice which led to the stream.
They followed the bank for some distance before they judged it safe once
more to take to a foot-path, then doubling round the hill on which the
windmill stood, they tacked off in the direction of Kergoff.
The hounds reached the Dower House at five o'clock, exactly half an hour
after the hares, and over a combined luncheon-tea discussed the run, and
universally agreed that the day had been "ripping".
The Sixth and VA, rather puffed up with their archaeological researches,
tried to be superior and instructive, and to give their juniors a digest
of what they had learnt at the abbey. But at this VB rebelled.
"You've had your fun, and we've had ours," said Annie. "Don't try and
cram architecture down our throats. I tell you frankly, I can't tell the
difference between a Norman arch and any other kind of one, and I don't
want to!"
"You utter ignoramus!"
"I'm a good hare, if I'm nothing else!" chuckled Annie. "We must have
led them a run of about fourteen miles!"
* * * * *
"Deirdre, I want to ask you something," said Gerda that evening. "You
remember that crest you took before from Forster's Folly? Will you swop
it with me for some chocolates?"
"Why, I'll give it to you if you like," returned Deirdre, who was in an
amiable, after-tea frame of mind, and disposed towards generosity. "I'm
tired of crest collecting, and I've taken up stamps. Here it is! It's
been in my jewel-box since the day I got it. Are you going in for
crests?"
"They're my latest and absolutely dearest hobby," declared Gerda
emphatically.