A MAD PRANK.
Time has been called "the great healer;" and as the term ran on Miles
gradually regained a measure of his former high spirits, and became
more his old bright self again. The thought, however, that at the end
of the half he would leave school and we should part, perhaps for ever,
hung over us like a cloud, rendered all the heavier and darker by the
consciousness on my friend's part that his prospects in life had
undergone a great change, and that his future was uncertain.
"It's all very well," he burst out one day, "for Uncle Nicholas to say
that he would rather have the matter settled amicably. As I said
before, he means to get the whole estate before he's finished."
"Old villain!" I answered; "I hate his very look! I hope, if he does
go to Coverthorne, that the ghost will haunt him, and drive him away
again. Did it sing any more after I left?"
"I don't know," answered Miles abruptly, as though the subject was one
to which he did not care to refer. "I don't think I've been inside the
room since we were there together. I suppose I'm a coward, but I don't
mind owning that that unearthly row gives me the creeps, and I daresay
it would you too if you were to hear it as I have, sometimes, when
passing down the passage at night."
We did not pursue the subject any further. Indeed, the thought may
have occurred to me that my own courage had ebbed away rather fast the
last time I had listened to those strange sounds; and such being the
case, I could hardly afford to rally my friend on his superstitious
fears.
The days came and went; the trees put on their glorious autumn tints,
and then gradually grew bare and lifeless, while we boys went on with
our accustomed round of school life, labouring at our desks, and
larking with unbounded stock of animal spirits in the playground. I
can recollect no event of any particular consequence having happened
during this time, except that one day Miles received a letter from home
which contained news of interest to us both. In those times, before
the introduction of the penny post, letters were less frequent and more
highly prized than they are to-day; and I think I can see my friend now
as he came down the schoolroom waving above his head the oblong packet
sealed with a yellow wafer.
"For me!" he cried. "Hurray! now I shall hear what's been happening in
our part of the world."
He flung himself down on the end of a bench, tore open the packet, and
for some moments was absorbed in reading its contents. Suddenly I saw
the expression of his face change, his mouth opened, and his eye ran
more rapidly from line to line.
"Phew! Well, I never!" he exclaimed.
"What is it?" I asked; "anything to do with your uncle Nicholas?"
"No; it's about old Lewis," he answered. Then, after scanning the
letter rapidly to the end of the page, he let it fall and raised his
head. "I say," he began, "what d'you think's happened? Why, there's
been a fight down at Rockymouth between the smugglers and the
preventive men; quite a serious affair--two fellows badly injured."
"Was old Lewis one of them--that man whom we saw hiding in your copse,
and in whose boat we went fishing?"
"Yes, rather: he seems to have been the leading spirit, and has got
into worse trouble than the rest, poor beggar! As far as I can
understand from my mother's account, it must have happened in this way.
One of the land gang was bribed, and turned informer, so by that means
the coastguard knew the exact time and place of the run. It happened
in that same little cove where we used to go and bathe. The spirit was
landed, and the carriers were just shouldering their tubs to make off
inland, when an armed party appeared on the beach and ordered them to
surrender. Then there was a pretty how-de-do! Some of the gang threw
down their loads and tried to bolt. Most of these got away in the
darkness. But the old hands, enraged at the thought of losing the
stuff just as it had come into their possession, showed fight. One of
the preventive men was knocked down with a bludgeon, the rest drew
their cutlasses, and blood was shed on both sides. Lewis, raging like
a madman, whipped out a pistol and fired it, though fortunately without
doing any harm, and the next moment he was stretched senseless on the
shingle with a blow on the head given with the flat of a steel blade.
In the end, of course, the coastguard got the best of it. Some of the
smugglers made off when they saw the day was going against them, but
the rest were overpowered, handcuffed, and dragged off to the
watchhouse. Some of them have already been sent to jail, but Lewis has
been sent to Welmington to await trial at the assizes. He was
recognized as the leader of the party, and as the man who fired the
pistol; and to use weapons like that against the king's men is a
serious offence. Mother says she thinks he will be transported. It's
a crying shame," concluded the speaker, after a moment's pause. "What
difference can it make to the king, or to anybody else, if those men
buy and sell a few ankers of brandy? They don't injure or rob anybody,
and the men who come meddling and interfering with them deserve to be
roughly handled. I believe I should have shot at them myself if I'd
been in Lewis's place."
Knowing the peculiar views of the coast-bred boy on the subject of
defrauding the revenue, and the little likelihood of inducing him to
change them, I made no attempt to argue the matter, but stood for a
moment recalling to my mind the sight I had witnessed of the two
stooping figures crossing the field in the gray twilight of the summer
dawn.
"It's dreadful to think of his being transported to the other side of
the world," I said. "It must be sad for him to think that he may never
see Rockymouth again, where he has lived so long--ever since he was a
boy, except the time he spent away as a sailor in the navy."
"Well, it's fortunate that he didn't shoot straighter, or he would have
swung for it," remarked Miles bluntly; "though I believe some of those
fellows would as soon be hung as transported. I'm glad none of our
Coverthorne men appear to have been in it," he added. "It's a wonder
they weren't; but perhaps if any of them did lend a hand, they were
among those who escaped."
He laughed as though it were more of a prank than a crime; then picking
up the sheets of paper which had fallen from his hand, he went on
reading his letter.
Boys may remain always much the same in their tastes and dispositions,
but, as I have said before, school life and customs have undergone
great changes since my day. In consequence of having no properly
organized outdoor sports, we found methods of our own for letting off
steam, some of which were about as sensible as the antics of a kitten
or the mad gallop of a young colt. Boys who wished to establish and
keep up a reputation for hardihood and daring were prone to perform
some reckless feat, and then dare others to follow their example. Ben
Liddle, the acknowledged chief of the "Eagles," was much given to this
sort of thing, and a dozen or more of his escapades occur to my mind as
I write.
It so happened that this term Miles and I slept in a dormitory of which
Liddle was "cock;" an arrangement which might have been unpleasant for
us had it not been for the fact that the majority of the boys were
"Foxes," and formed a mutual defensive alliance, so that Liddle stopped
short of actual violence, knowing that anything of the kind would raise
a hornet's nest about his ears. Nevertheless, he was always passing
slighting remarks about us, and hinting that we were lacking in pluck
and daring; which taunts on one or two occasions nearly brought about a
free fight between the rival parties.
The weeks went by; we were close to the end of the half, and boys had
commenced to talk of holidays and home, when one night Liddle came up
to bed with something under his coat.
"Look here," he said; "I found this in a field this afternoon."
The article which he held up was an ordinary rope halter. He waved it
triumphantly in the air, and then flung it into a box by the side of
his bed.
"What on earth d'you want with that old thing?" cried one of his
followers, laughing; "it's no use to you. What made you bring it home?"
"You know that horse of old Smiley's that he's turned out to graze in
that big field--the second beyond the brook? Well, I'm going to make
him give me a ride. I've bet Maggers two to one in half-crowns that
I'll ride him bareback twice round the field without being thrown."
Seated on the next bed, winding an old turnip-shaped silver watch, was
a fellow named Rigby. Though professedly a stanch "Eagle," he seemed
lately to have grown rather jealous of Liddle, and to covet for himself
the post of leader. Whenever Liddle attempted to impress us with some
fresh act of bravado, Rigby either made light of it or tried to outdo
it by the recital of some still more brilliant piece of mischief which
he had either been guilty of in the past or was prepared to attempt
some time in the future. As might be expected, nothing could have been
more calculated to vex and provoke Liddle, who, we could see, often
found it difficult to restrain himself from vindicating his outraged
vanity by pounding with clenched fists the person of his presumptuous
follower.
"Pooh!" said Rigby. "When d'you expect you're going to ride a horse
round that field? They can see it from the house, and you'd have some
one after you within five minutes. I'll bet you'll never try it."
"What'll you bet?" demanded Liddle, bristling up in a moment.
"I won't bet anything on such a stupid thing. I know you won't do it."
"I'll do it any time you like to mention."
"Well, do it now," answered Rigby, suggesting what he considered to be
impossible.
"All right; I will," returned Liddle recklessly. "Wait till the lights
have been put out and the coast is clear, and I'll go and ride the nag
to-night. But look here, my boy," continued the speaker, with a
malicious twinkle in his eyes: "if I go you'll have to come too, as a
witness, or Maggers won't believe I've won my wager."
"I never said I'd do anything of the kind," answered the other, rather
drawing in his horns.
"Ho, ho!" sneered Liddle, perceiving his advantage, and proceeding to
make the most of it; "you're funky. You try to make out that other
people haven't the spirit to do a thing when really you're afraid to
try it yourself."
"I'm not afraid," was the reply; "I only say it can't be done, so
what's the good of gabbing about it any further?"
"It _can_ be done," asserted Liddle. "All you have to do is to wait
till there's no one about, then get out of this window on to the roof
of the shed, creep along that, and down by the water-butt, then hop
over the wall, and there you are. Come; you've as good as dared me to
do it, and I say I'll go and ride the horse if you'll come and see me
do it. Now, will you go, or will you not?"
"There's no sense in it," grumbled Rigby.
"Pooh! you mean you haven't got the pluck."
There was a general laugh. Rigby found himself in a trap of his own
making. If he drew back he stood a good chance of being exposed to
ridicule as an empty boaster, besides practically confessing himself
Liddle's inferior in daring. His face twitched with excitement and
vexation.
"Oh, very well, I'll go!" he answered desperately. "But I don't see
any object in it, all the same."
An hour later, when all was quiet, the two boys, who had only partially
undressed, rose, put on the rest of their clothes, and prepared to
start.
"Shut the window after us, you fellows," said Liddle, "and be ready to
haul us in when we return. We'll chuck a bit of mud or gravel against
the glass. Don't get talking or making a row to attract attention; and
mind, if any one does come into the room you're all dead asleep."
Arranging a bundle of spare clothes and pillows under their
counterpanes as a last precaution, lest the notice of a master entering
the room should be attracted by the empty beds, the two boys started on
their expedition. The roof of the outbuilding was not far below our
window, and with the assistance of a rope made of knotted towels it was
reached without much difficulty. There was a whispered "All right!"
and we heard the adventurers crawl away in the direction of the
water-butt.
Broad awake, and in a state of suppressed excitement, we waited for
what seemed hours, now and again speculating in whispers as to what had
become of our two comrades, wondering if Liddle would really carry out
his intention of riding the horse, and whether they would get back
safely without being caught. Once the footsteps of a master passing
along the corridor caused us a few moments' suspense; but we lay
perfectly still, and the door of the room remained unopened. At length
there came an unmistakable rap on the window-pane, the rope was
lowered, and Rigby, followed by Liddle, was hauled back into the room.
"I've done it," whispered the latter, undoing the halter, which he had
wound round his waist, "I caught the old nag, and had a fine scamper
round the field.--Didn't I, Rigby?"
The other affirmed that such was the fact. Both boys were out of
breath with running, and flushed with the excitement and success of
their enterprise.
The result of the ordeal being to enhance the reputation of both, they
now seemed on the best of terms, and appeared to have forgotten
entirely the outburst of jealousy which had really occasioned the
expedition. For some time we lay awake, listening to a detailed
account of the adventure, and it must have been early morning before we
stopped talking and fell asleep.
Almost before breakfast next morning a report of what had happened was
whispered through the school, in consequence of which Liddle and Rigby
became the heroes of the hour. Though nothing more than a piece of
senseless bravado, their prank was considered a very fine and spirited
exploit; indeed, when compared with the many raids and hunting
expeditions of "Eagles" and "Foxes," it was declared that nothing quite
so daring had been attempted for a long while.
Such an amount of notice, combined with open admiration, could not be
without its effect on the two persons chiefly concerned, and by the
time we retired to rest that evening both Liddle and Rigby were puffed
up with conceit, and inclined to indulge in any amount of swagger.
"Now then," cried the former, "who's going to ride the old nag
to-night? Come; we've given you a lead, and it's simple enough."
"I'm not going," muttered one boy, while the rest sought to evade the
challenge with a laugh.
"See here," continued Liddle, in the same boastful manner, "one of you
'Foxes' have a shot. There doesn't seem to be a ha'porth of go among
the lot of you!--Now then, Coverthorne, you can ride, so you're the
very man. You used to be ready for a lark, but now, for all this half,
you seem to have turned into a regular old woman."
Miles's cheek reddened with an angry flush.
"I'm no more a coward than you are yourself," he answered; "but if you
choose to do a senseless thing, that's no reason why every one else in
the room should follow suit."
"Oh, that's a fine excuse! Why don't you say at once that you're
afraid?"
The dialogue was continued in much the same strain, Liddle flinging
taunts with ever-increasing bitterness, till I could see that Miles was
rapidly losing his temper. At length, perhaps rather weakly, the
latter gave way, and declared himself ready to repeat the previous
night's performance.
"I'll do it," he said, "if any one will go with me."
Just at the moment, from a boy's point of view, it seemed to me that
friendship demanded that I should volunteer to share the risk.
"All right, Miles," I exclaimed. "I'll go with you; it's simple
enough."
The other "Foxes" rewarded me with a subdued "Hear, hear!" For their
own sakes they were eager enough for us to make the attempt, but I
confess that I would gladly have recalled the promise almost as soon as
it was made. From the very start, when I found myself crawling along
the top of the wall against which the outhouses were built, I heartily
wished myself safely back in the dormitory. Still, there was nothing
to be gained by anticipating disaster until the worst actually
happened, and we both pretended to make light of the whole matter.
What such fellows as Liddle and Rigby had done we could certainly
accomplish; and, after all, if we had an ordinary amount of luck, the
risk was not great.
Miles especially was country bred, and had no difficulty in finding his
way in the dark. Not a sound broke the stillness, and no one seemed to
be abroad but ourselves. We pressed forward, conversing only in
whispers, until in front of us a row of leafless willow trees loomed up
out of the darkness.
"This is the brook," murmured Miles. "There's a plank laid across a
little further down. Here we are. Now mind how you step."
Gingerly we crossed the frail bridge, not wishing to add a wetting to
the other delights of this midnight raid. Two more hedges had to be
scrambled through, and we found ourselves in the field in which the old
horse had been turned out to graze. Away on some rising ground a
little to the right was the farmhouse, and we noticed a light dimly
burning in one of the windows.
"I should have thought they'd have all been in bed by this time," said
Miles. "Now then," he continued, unwinding the halter, "let's find the
nag. Coop, coo-op, coop!"
Whether Blackbird--as we afterwards found the animal's name was--had
grown wiser by experience, and was prepared to show objection to having
his night's rest disturbed to gratify the idiotic whim of a couple of
schoolboys, I can't say, but the fact remains that as soon as we came
within twenty yards of him he gave an indignant snort, and went
plunging off in the darkness. The thunder of his hoofs on the turf
seemed loud enough to be heard up at the farm. I held my breath till
all was quiet again; then off we started towards the opposite end of
the meadow, Miles attempting to cajole the animal with soothing words
and an imaginary capful of corn. Once more Blackbird allowed us, very
nearly, to drive him up in a corner; then, with a loud protestation in
the shape of a neigh and a snort, he kicked up his heels and went off
at a gallop. How long this sort of thing might have lasted, and
whether we or the animal would have got the best of it in the end, can
never be said; for before the thudding of the hoofs had ceased, a man's
form came crashing through the hedge, and an angry voice yelled out,--
"Hey, you rascals! what are you doing with that horse?"
The newcomer was none other than the farmer himself, returning home
from a festive gathering at the house of a friend. Passing along the
footpath in the neighbouring field, he had heard our voices and
Blackbird's stampede, and had come to the conclusion that he was
receiving a visit from a couple of horse-thieves.
All this we learned later, but at the moment no other thought entered
our minds than to save ourselves by immediate flight. We turned and
ran. How we got over the hedges I don't know; I can only remember
plunging through them, regardless of scratches and tumbles, as a bather
might through a breaking wave. Old Smiley, who had the advantage of
knowing the ground better than we did, followed hard at our heels,
breathing out threats and curses. If the man had had a gun in his
hand, I believe he would certainly have fired.
Suddenly we found ourselves on the bank of the stream. As luck would
have it, we happened to have struck it just at the right spot, and
Miles's ready wit came to the rescue.
"Quick!" he panted; "over, and draw away the plank, or the beggar will
follow us to the school!"
Recklessly we sprang across the narrow bridge; then seizing the plank,
with our united strength dragged it over, flung it down on the bank,
and rushed off into the darkness.
The ruse proved entirely successful. Though a good runner, old Smiley
was not going to attempt a jump with the risk of a ducking. We heard
his shouts growing fainter and fainter in the distance, and a few
minutes later we had scrambled along the roof of the outhouses, given
the signal, and were being hauled up to the window by our comrades, who
were on the _qui vive_ awaiting our return.
In a few breathless sentences Miles explained what had happened.
"It's all right!" said Liddle reassuringly. "You gave the old beggar
the slip finely, and he can never tell that it was two fellows from
here. In the darkness he didn't get close enough to recognize your
faces."
During the time these few words were being spoken I had been sitting on
the end of my bed, endeavouring to regain my breath sufficiently to
take part in the conversation. Now raising my hand to take off my cap,
I found that it was missing. At once the thought flashed through my
mind that I must have dropped it during my flight across the fields,
and, what was more, I remembered that my name was clearly marked on the
lining. If any of my room-mates had been watching me closely, they
must have seen my face lengthen; for should old Smiley or one of his
men happen to pick up the cap, it was as good as if they had caught the
owner, and my share in the horse-chasing adventure would certainly be
discovered.