he had a hard fight to curb his inclinations to rush up at once to his
room.
This desire he kept down till he had made sure that the servants were at
their dinner, and then, after a cautious saunter about the grounds to
convince himself that the gardener had gone to his cottage, Waller
hurried up, and paused breathlessly at the door of his den, which he
opened and closed, and then locked himself in.
The next minute he had crept out of the window, to hold on by the sill
and feel with his feet amongst the ivy for the stone gutter which ran
all along the front of the house. Upon this, half hidden by the ivy, he
proceeded cautiously to his right, where a deep gully between two gables
went right across the house, with the ivy positively rioting and pretty
well filling it up with long strands and great berry-bearing clumps.
Here, completely hidden, Waller crept along three or four yards.
"Only me," he said merrily, "Don't shoot! How are you getting on?"
A head and shoulders were slowly raised from among the thick glossy
leaves, and he was confronted by Godfrey's sombre countenance.
"Miserably," he said. "I had hoped that this despicable hiding was at
an end. Pray help me to-night to get away."
"Oh, I know what's the matter with you," cried Waller. "You are hungry
and tired out. But come along back into my room. But I say, you found
it easy enough to get here, didn't you? I was in a fright at first;
then I thought that you would be sure to creep out."
"Oh, yes, easy enough," said the lad. "Is the enemy quite gone?"
"Yes, right away, and well satisfied. They won't come again."
"Why do you speak like that?" said Godfrey, sharply. "It sounded as if
you were afraid that somebody else would come."
"Well," said Waller slowly, "I am not quite satisfied about our
fat-headed constable. He's very suspicious, and wanted to search the
roof. But I managed to put a stop to that, for if they had got up here
you must have been found."
"Yes," said Godfrey, as, after following his companion back through the
ivy, he seated himself, away from the window, in the den, where Waller
related to him the history of the raising of the ladder.
"That man believes I am here, and will come again. It is quite time you
got me away. It was he who came prowling round the house last night,
and not your gardener--a big, heavy man, not like Hanson at all."
"Yes, you are right," said Waller; "and he must have seen you in the
lane and gone and sought out the soldiers at once."
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
PLANS OF ESCAPE.
The days glided on and there was no news of the Squire's coming back,
and no fresh alarm or suggestion of the possibility of the soldiers
returning to make another search, so Waller grew more and more satisfied
in the belief that, however much Gusset might suspect, it was merely
suspicion, and there was no more to fear.
"I think at any time now we might begin to think of making a start,"
said Waller one morning.
"Yes, yes," cried Godfrey eagerly. "Well, you needn't look so pleased
because you are going," cried Waller, half angrily, but dropping his
voice directly lest it should be heard and let the servants know he had
somebody up there to whom he was talking.
"Oh, don't speak to me like that," cried Godfrey earnestly. "I don't
want to go but I am afraid it would be bad for both of us, and lead to
trouble if I stayed."
"Well, I suppose so," said Waller. "As I say, I don't want you to go,
but it will be better for both of us when you are on your way back to
France."
The boy stopped speaking and stood looking earnestly in his companion's
eyes, while Godfrey shook his head and then held out his hand.
Waller was about to take it, feeling very miserable the while, for he
was growing very much attached to his nervous, excitable companion, when
both started violently, for some one had come up in perfect silence and
given a sharp tap or two at the door.
In the full conviction that whoever it was must have heard the talking,
Waller caught up the hammer near at hand, then threw it down noisily
upon his work-bench, and walked quickly to the door.
"What is it?" he cried.
The answer came in Bella's voice:
"You are wanted, Master Waller."
"Who wants me?" said Waller, changing colour and seeing all sorts of
imaginary dangers below.
"Don't know, sir. Martha told me to come and tell you somebody's there.
I think it's the soldiers come again."
Waller compressed his lips, and could not have spoken for a few moments
if it had been to save his life, while he gazed despairingly at his
companion.
"Say I will come down directly," he almost gasped, and to divert the
maid's attention, he hammered sharply on his work-bench, gazing
dejectedly at his companion the while, as they both listened to the
girl's descending footsteps.
"Don't be downhearted," he whispered. "It may mean nothing. I'll lock
you in and go down. If anything does go wrong and you hear people
coming up, make for the hiding-place in the ivy again. And look here, I
don't believe they will find where you are hidden, but take the coil
with you, and if anyone is coming to search the roof, make the rope fast
to one of the chimney-stacks, watch for your chance, slide down, and
then make for the forest to find a hiding-place somewhere down by the
river."
"And what then? You'll never find me."
"Oh, yes, I will, and if you hear three little twits like a blackbird's,
only louder, you can answer, for it will be I."
There was no time for more, so Waller slipped out and went down,
expecting to see the redcoats in the hall; but there was no one there,
and he went on into the kitchen.
"Who wants me, cook?" he said.
"It's that Bunny Wrigg, Master Waller, come begging, I suppose, because
he knows master's out."
With a sigh of relief and the wish at his heart that he could send
Godfrey the news at once that there was nothing to fear, the boy went
out into the yard, where the big, brown, gipsy-like ne'er-do-well of the
place was holding a fine freshly washed turnip in one hand, his knife in
the other, busily munching a slice.
"Oh, it's you, Bunny, is it?"
"Yes, Master Waller; me it is."
"Where did you get that turnip?"
"Joe Hanson giv' it me, sir. It's one of yours, and it's prime."
"Joe has no business to give things away when father's out--not to
anybody."
"Oh, I aren't anybody, Master Waller," said the man, with a grin. "I'm
nobody, and don't count."
"Well, look here; I don't want to know anything about any strange birds
or polecats or owls or hawks or anything. I am busy now. There's a
shilling for you. Be off."
"You're busy, are you?"
"Yes, very."
"Hah! Shilling, eh? I don't want it."
"First time I ever knew you refuse money."
"Ah, but that's only a shilling. I want a lot."
"Well, of all the impudence! I shan't give you any more, so toddle."
"Nobody asked you--I say, I know!"
"Know what?"
"About the hundred pounds."
"What hundred pounds?" said Waller, starting.
"What you are going to get for ketching that chap," said the man, with a
grin.
"Catching what chap?" cried Waller sharply.
"Ah, you know. Why, I always sleep with my eyes open. It's a hundred
pounds for ketching that spy, as they calls him; and as he was caught in
my woods I say halves."
"You don't know what you are talking about," cried Waller fiercely,
blustering to hide the faint qualm he felt. "Spy! Hundred pounds!
Halves! Here, you had better be off before you get into a row. Your
woods, indeed! What next?"
"I d'know, and don't want to. All I know is that they are wild, and as
much mine as anybody else's. Now then, what about them halves?"
"Look here, Bunny; what have you got in your head?"
"Hidees, Master Waller. Never you mind what I have got in my head; it's
what have you got up in your room where you are always cobbling and
tinkering and making things?"
"Bunny!" cried Waller, staggered for the moment out of his assurance.
"Yes; that's me, Master Waller, and I want fifty pound. Lot of money,
ar'n't it? And I want money. You are a rich gentleman, and don't, and
ought to give me the whole hundred. But I don't want to be grasping,
because it's you, and so I says halves."
"But, Bunny--" cried Waller.
"Oh, it ar'n't no use for you to talk. I know all about it, and the
soldiers coming to sarch and then going away because they couldn't find
nothing, when you had got him hid away all the time."
"Oh, Bunny!" cried Waller huskily.
"That's me. I tell you I know, so it's no use to tell no taradiddlums
about it. I see you taking him out for a walk last night to stretch his
legs."
Waller's eyes fixed in a stare, and his lips parted as he breathed
harder than usual.
"You see, I'm about arter dark when other folks goes to sleep. I come
and had a look at him t'other night when you thought everybody was
a-bed."
"You coward!" said Waller, in a hoarse whisper, and his hands opened and
shut as he felt ready to spring at the man's throat.
"That I warn't. Man ar'n't no coward who swarms up that there ivy,
which as like as not will break away, being as brittle as carrots."
"You came to look in and spy?" half whispered Waller.
"That I didn't. _I_ ar'n't the spy; it's 'im. I swarmed up the ivy to
see if that there young ullet was fit to take. But it warn't. But I
seed you'd got a light up there, so I went along sidewise, till I could
look in. There was you two, laughing and talking together in whispers,
and after a bit you jumps up and come and opened the window."
"Ah!" gasped Waller. "But you weren't there?"
"I warn't there! Warn't I just? Why, the window scraped over my head
and knocked my cap off as I bobbed down. There, it's no use for you to
pretend, Master Waller, so just you hand over that there fifty pounds."
Waller was silent for a few moments, and his eyes wandered in all
directions save that where the rough-looking woodman stood. At last,
after drawing a deep breath, he said in a hoarse whisper:
"Come along this way."
"Wheer to, lad?"
"Out in the woods."
"Ar'n't a-going to try and do for me so as to keep all the hundred
pounds yourself, are you, Master Waller?" said the rough fellow, with a
grin.
"No, of course not. I want to talk to you."
"That's right, lad. I wouldn't try to do t'other, because you might get
hurt, and I shouldn't like to hurt you, Master Waller, because you have
been a good friend to me, and I like you, lad, and I'm waiting to see
you grow up into being the finest gentleman in these parts. You won't
never want to chivvy me out of the woods, I know."
Waller uttered a low hiss, and hurried on in silence till they stood
together among the nut stubs overshadowed by the spreading oaks, when he
stopped short and faced round.
"You say you know that I shall never chivvy you out of the woods, Bunny;
but you know wrong, for I should like to do it now."
"Get out, lad! Not you! Why?"
"For being such a coward and sneak, and coming here to gather blackmail
and betray that poor fellow to the gallows, or to be shot."
"What are you talking about, lad? What if he is put away? He's only a
spy, come here to do harm to the King."
"That's nothing to do with you," cried Waller.
"Nay, but the money is. Half a hundred pounds is a lot. You needn't
make a fuss; you'll get your share. What's he to you? Has he broke his
leg, same as I did mine, when I wouldn't go away into the workus, and
you used to come and see me and talk to me till it got better?"
"Broken his leg? No!"
"Ho! Thought he had perhaps, because you like doctoring chaps as has
broke their legs, as well I know. What is he to you, then, Master
Waller?"
"He's my friend, Bunny," cried the boy passionately. "One I'd do
anything to save from harm; one I like as if he were my brother. And
here you come, after all the kindness that I have shown you, and want to
do me the greatest harm that man could do."
"That I don't."
"What! Why, you come here threatening to go and betray that poor fellow
to the soldiers if I don't give you fifty pounds."
"That I didn't, Master Waller. I want for you and me to go and give him
up fair and square, and take the money, before someone else does."
"What!" cried Waller, catching him by the arm. "Somebody else? Does
anyone but you know he's there?"
"Like enough, lad," said the man, with a grin.
"But you haven't betrayed him?"
"Not likely, lad. I say to myself, I says, `If anybody is going to get
that money it's Master Waller and me, not old Fatty Gusset, who brought
the soldiers up t'other day.'"
"But he doesn't believe he's here now, does he, Bunny?"
"Shouldn't wonder if he does, Master Waller. He ar'n't so stupid as he
looks. He's as cunning as he is fat. A lot of the fox in him. It's
you as ought to have the money, seeing that it was only right when you
found him, and have fed the Frenchy beggar ever since."
"But who else is likely to know?"
"Haw! Haw!" laughed the man, shaking with pure enjoyment at what seemed
to him one of the greatest jokes in the world. "You have never seen
him. You ar'n't got him chained up to your work-bench up in your room!
Oh, no! But I say, Master Waller, you can fib when you like!"
"How dare you!" cried Waller angrily. "How have I fibbed or lied to
you? Didn't I own it to you directly, sir, as soon as I was sure you
knew?"
"Oh, well, I suppose you did, Master Waller. Beg pardon! Don't be waxy
with me, lad."
"Here, tell me who is likely to know."
"Why, Joe Hanson, like as anybody, I should say. If I had bin him I
know I should soon have had the forty-round apple ladder up agen your
window to see what you were about."
"Anyone else?" cried Waller.
"Ay. Old Fatty Gusset, as aforesaid; old cobbler!"
"But you haven't dropped a hint, Bunny?"
"Dropped a hint! Na-ay! I'd sooner drop his old lapstone on his toe."
"Look here, Bunny!" cried Waller, catching the man by the wrist, while
an inquisitive-looking robin hopped nearer to them from twig to twig,
and sat watching them both with its bright, bead-like eyes.
"Look wheer, my lad?"
"Look here! You don't want fifty pounds."
"Oh, don't I! Hark at him!" cried the man, laughing, and addressing the
robin.
"Why, what good would it be to you?"
"What good, lad? Why, I'd have a noo thick weskit, a plush un, before
the winter come--a red un like his'n," and he nodded towards the robin.
"Bah! Nonsense!"
"Nay, it ar'n't, lad. Them red uns are strange and warm, and lies down
like feathers. Then there's boots. I'd like a pair of the stoutest and
thickest lace-up waterproofers as I could get--not a pair of old Fatty's
cobbling, but real down good uns, out of Southampton's town."
"Yes!" panted Waller, "And what else would you do with the money?"
"Waal, I don't know about what else," said the man thoughtfully. "That
there weskit and them boots would about do for the present."
"That wouldn't cost two pounds," cried Waller; "and what would you do
with the other?"
"Bury it in an old pot," said the man, with a grin. "I know a hole as
would take that."
"Oh, Bunny!" cried the boy passionately, "I thought better of you! I
did think you were a man!"
"So I am," cried the fellow fiercely. "Who says I ar'n't?"
"I do!" cried Waller, dashing his arm away. "For the sake of a warm
waistcoat and a pair of stout boots you would give up that poor fellow
to be hanged, or see him shot!"
"Not me, lad!" cried Bunny fiercely.
"You would, sir! Why, I'd sooner go shivering and barefoot all my days
than even think of such a thing."
"Phe-ew!" growled the man, and he began scratching the thick, dark
curls, almost negro-like, that covered his head and hung over his broad
brown temples. "Why, I never thought anything like that, Master Waller.
Why, I wouldn't go and see a man shot nor hung for love or money! I
only thought about that chap as being a spy as had come here to steal
the crown; and it seemed to me, as you found him, that it'd be about
fair if you and me went snacks with the reward. Look here, my lad, I'll
get my old weskit covered with a bit of heifer-skin, and as for the
boots, why, they'll do for another winter yet if I lay 'em up pretty
thick with grease. Don't you get waxy with me, Master Waller. I didn't
mean no harm. I wouldn't hurt that poor chap, especially as you like
him."
"No, Bunny," cried the boy, catching his arm again. "I'm sure you
wouldn't; and you won't tell upon me?"
"You say I ar'n't to, Master Waller, and, of course, I won't."
"Then I do say you are not to. I wouldn't have that poor fellow found
and taken for the world."
"All right, Master Waller."
"And as for the money you will miss, Bunny, I have got some saved up,
and you shall have the waistcoat and the boots before a month's passed."
"Na-ay, I shan't," growled the man. "Bang the boots and the weskit! I
won't have 'em now. You say it's right for that there poor young chap
to be took care of, and it shall be done. You have got him all right up
there; but your father's coming home. What will he say?"
"Oh, don't talk about it," cried the boy excitedly. "It makes me
shiver!"
"Do it? Well, look here, lad; when you know he's coming home, you hand
the chap over to me."
"What, could you hide him somewhere?"
"Could I hide him somewhere? Haw! Haw!" laughed the man. "He says,
could I hide him somewhere?" And he looked round as if to address the
robin; but the bird had flitted away, and Bunny Wrigg gazed straight in
the boy's eyes again. "Of course I could, lad, and where no soldiers
could find him and even you couldn't. You let me have him, and he'll be
all right."
"Bunny, you are a good fellow!" cried Waller excitedly. "And you shall
have the best waistcoat and boots that money can buy."
"Nay I sha'n't, lad," growled the man, "and if you say any more about
them things I shan't play. That there young Frenchy chap must be a good
sort, or you wouldn't have made him your friend. Why, I'd rather hear
you call me a good fellow like you did just now, and think of me, being
the young Squire, as your friend, than have all the weskits in the
world. But I say, look here, Master Waller," said Bunny thoughtfully,
"I could hide that chap in one of my snuggeries; but what about the
winter time?"
"What about the winter time?" said Waller, staring.
"Ay; when it's always raining, or snow's on the ground. I don't mind,
because the water runs off me, same as it would off a wild duck; and as
for the frost and snow, I could roll in 'em like a dog. But such a chap
as your friend--it'd kill him in no time. He'd be catching colds and
sore gullets, and having the roomis."
"Oh, but it wouldn't be for long."
"What are you going to do with him then? Not setting anybody else to
take care of him?"
"Oh, no, no, Bunny."
"Because I shouldn't like that, sir, when I'd undertook the job. What
are you going to do with him then?"
"Wait till the soldiers are gone, Bunny, and then get him down to the
coast and smuggle him aboard a fishing-boat and get the skipper to run
him across to Cherbourg or Saint Malo."
"Ho!" said Bunny, thoughtfully, and then, giving his thigh a slap, "They
wouldn't do it, sir. I mean the skipper wouldn't."
"Wouldn't do it?" cried Waller.
"Not him, sir. Why, he'd want five shillings at least before he'd
stir."
"Five shillings!" cried Waller contemptuously. "Why, Bunny, I'd give
him five pounds."
"You would, sir? Then hooroar!"
"What do you mean by your hooroar?" cried Waller.
"Why, hooroar, of course, I've got the chap as would do it."
"Where?" cried Waller.
"Why, I ar'n't got him in my pocket, lad, but there's my brother-in-law,
him and his two mates, who've got a lugger of their own. Down yonder by
Loo Creek, facing the Isle, you know. Five pounds! Why, they have to
go and lay out their nets a many times to get five pounds. They'd do
it--leastways, brother-in-law Jem would. Cherbourg, eh? Why, he's been
there lots of times."
"Splendid, Bunny?" cried Waller eagerly; and then, looking solemn at the
thought of parting from his new friend: "But could you trust him,
Bunny?"
"Trust him, sir?"
"Yes. I mean, he wouldn't betray the poor fellow, would he?"
Bunny stared at Waller for a moment, and then moistened both his hands,
gave them a rub together, and clenched them.
"He'd better!" he said. "Why, I'd--I'd--I'd--half smash him! Nay, I
wouldn't--I'd take his wife away. Sister Jen wouldn't stop along with a
sneak. But bah! Fisherman Jem! You might trust him anywhere. He'd
want stirring up to make him go, but me and the five pounds would make
that all right."
"Oh, I oughtn't to have doubted him, Bunny; he's your brother-in-law;
that's enough for me. Then, as soon as the soldiers are gone--I don't
want to, and I suppose I oughtn't to--but we will get him down to the
lugger and send him off home to come to his senses."
"Ah!" cried Bunny, "and you tell him, Master Waller, to stop there, for
it ar'n't honest to come here trying to steal the King's crown."
"No," said Waller, laughing; "of course not, Bunny. Now, look here, you
keep a sharp look-out without seeming to be watching the soldiers and
Tony Gusset, and if there's anything wrong you come and tell me."
"Right, Master Waller! That's so; and look here, sir. When we get him
down to the creek and take him aboard he'd better be dressed up a bit so
as people shan't take no notice of him. You make him put on some of
your oldest clothes, and keep him three or four days wi'out weshing his
hands and face. That'll make him look more nat'ral."
"Oh, we'll see about that, Bunny; and now you do this. You go down to
Loo Creek and see your brother-in-law at once. But look here; you'll
want some money."
"What for?" said the man sharply.
"Oh, to pay somebody for giving you a lift, and for something to eat,
because you won't be able to do it all in a day."
"Oh, you let me alone for that."
"I shan't," said Waller. "Here, take this."
"I shan't neither," said the man, and he made a little resistance, which
ended in Waller thrusting a couple of half-crowns into his pockets.
"Say, Master Waller, you and me has had some games in these 'ere woods
in our time, ar'n't us?"
"Yes, Bunny! Hundreds."
"But this 'ere's quite a new un, eh?"
"New indeed, Bunny."
"Ay, and I'm beginning to like it, too, lad. Well, I suppose I must be
off."
"But, Bunny, may I depend on you that you will keep this a secret?"
"May you depend on me, lad? Why, ar'n't I said it? Did yer ever know
me not keep my word?"
"Never!" cried Waller.
"Then look 'ere, sir. That means mum."
"That" was a smart slap on the mouth, Bunny's metaphorical way of
showing that the secret of the young enthusiast who had come, as he
believed, to fight for and rescue a lost cause, was within that casket
and he had banged down the lid.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
RETURN OF THE SEARCH-PARTY.
"What are you thinking about?" said Waller.
"Thinking," replied Godfrey.
"Yes; you haven't spoken a word for the last five minutes."
The two lads were standing together with their elbows resting on the
sill of the wide dormer window, whose two casements were propped wide
open, while they gazed out into the soft darkness of the autumn night.
"I was thinking about that friend of yours who was going to get me a
pass across to France in a fishing-boat."
"Oh," said Waller in a disappointed tone; "I thought you were thinking
about how beautiful it is looking out here into the darkness of the
forest, with the scent of the soft, warm, damp leaves, and listening to
the owls and that squeaking rabbit that had the weasel after it."
"It is very beautiful," said Godfrey sadly; "but I was thinking about
that boat."
"I wish you wouldn't be so fond of wishing to get away," said Waller
gloomily. "It's as if I had not done enough to make you comfortable."
"Oh!" cried the lad passionately, and he turned to lay his hand on
Waller's shoulder. "How can you say that, when you have done too much,
and made me feel--almost alone in the world as I am--as if I should like
to stay here always!"
"Do you mean that?" cried Waller excitedly.
"Of course I do. I never had a friend like you before, and I never knew
what it was to lead a boy's life. Out there in France I never heard
about anything else hardly but politics, and getting back the crown for
the Stuarts."
"Then you really don't want to go?" cried Waller.
"No; but I must go, and the sooner the better. You know what I must
feel."
"Yes," said Waller sadly, "but--"
"Oh, it must come to an end. I lie awake of a night wondering how it is
that your servants have not found it all out before, with you bringing
up all that I have to eat and drink. I fancy sometimes that they must
know."
"But they don't," said Waller grimly.
"But how have you managed?"
"Oh, somehow," said Waller, with a half-laugh. "It's been mostly done
by stealing."
"By stealing! Nonsense! You couldn't be a thief."