THE VILLAGE STOCKS
"'Allo! What 'as us 'ere?"
It was a coarse voice, half boy's and half man's.
Ande looked up and perceived, coming through the gloom, a long-legged,
stout lad, about three years older than himself. He had just emerged
from the Manor woods and was engaged in what he thought a manly
occupation, smoking a short pipe--or Cornish bob. The prisoner did not
recognise him at first, for the twilight had begun to darken into night,
but as the newcomer advanced he saw the most unwelcome sight of his
bitterest school enemy,--Bully Bob Sloan.
The recognition was almost simultaneous and the newcomer allowed his
freckled face to relax into a grin of delight.
"'Allo, can't 'ee speak? What has tha done, boy, to git in they wooden
leggins?"
"The squire did it, Bob, but I 'adn't done anything. Squire said I 'ad
drained the fish-pond, but I didn't. Now, let me out of here, do, Bob."
This was said in a propitiating tone, for, thought the lad, Bob might
help him. But he had not estimated Bob aright.
"Um," with a sage air and a shake of the head, "can't go against the
squire's horders; and then I 'alf suspect 'ee'rt guilty, my lad, for I
seed 'ee myself and told squire, or rather caused 'e to hear it, that I
had seed 'ee a-lurking nigh the grounds. Ah, my lad, think what a fall
ah be for 'ee, the best scholard in the school,--a criminal, a-sitting
in the stocks; and by and by 'ee will be hung for more thieving and
willainry. What a karacter! What a disgrace!" and Bob shook his head, in
mock sadness. "And when I tell the master and the lads at school, 'cause
I got to tell them to save they from associating with a thief, 'ow
shocked they will feel. I expect, too, I 'ad better clear out myself, as
my repertation might be a-hinjured a-talking 'ere with a criminal."
"Don't lad me," said Ande, in some wrath, "you're no more of a man than
I am, and as for reputation, you've none to spare."
"Softly, softly, little lad; 'ow pretty 'e looks, a-dressed in 'is
Sunday clothes, a-sitting in the stocks, and as I do live, the little
lad 'as been a-crying. Aren't 'ee afeared 'ee'll spoil your pretty new
jacket?"
Bob advanced a step or two, and placing the pipe again in his mouth at a
dangerous angle, and grinning with Satanic pleasure, shoved his freckled
countenance almost into Ande's face.
Now the stocks was an instrument of confinement in which the ankles were
held securely, while the arms and hands were free. Bob had evidently
forgotten the latter fact, but was made aware of it by a stinging
left-hander, that sent the pipe flying and Bob likewise into the dust.
"Now, damme, for a traitor's cub, I'll eat 'ee up," exclaimed Bob in
his wrath, as he arose from the dust, with bloody lip and vengeful eye.
And he doubtlessly would have made some attempt to carry out his dire
vengeance had not the sound of approaching footsteps and a cheery
whistling in the distance been heard. Dreading some encounter with the
Hall people, and with a threat of vengeance at some future time, he made
off for the village.
The whistling came nearer and nearer. A tall, dark figure emerged from
the gloom, walking with a quick, jaunty step.
"What ho, my Bob Cuffins, scragged in wooden leggins!" The white
trousers and blue jacket caught his eye. "Well, a gentry cove." Dropping
all dialect, his language became more respectful.
"And what hast done, lad, to be trussed up like this?"
Ande looked at the stranger, doubtingly. He was clad in a long rough
coat, the skirts of which were slightly torn. His countenance was dark,
but with a healthy bloom on it.
"Come, my lad, I look rather unprepossessing and rough, but mayhap I am
better than I appear."
Ande, reassured, told his story briefly.
"And you're Squire Trembath's grandson, and you were accused of the
mischief at the Manor?" said the fellow, and then softly whistled to
himself. "I think I had better let you out for two reasons. First,
because you couldn't have done the things said, since one of my partners
did that. I don't mind telling you, as you can't prove your innocence
otherwise, and as long as you don't tell the squire before a day or so,
it won't hurt us. Then, in the second place, I like to pay my debts to
friends. If you ever see your father, tell him that Midnight Jack
returned his favour of over sixteen years ago."
With a quick movement, the tall gipsy chief leaned down, wrenched open
the clasp of the stocks, and the imprisoned lad was free. He was gone
even before the lad could thank him.
Burning with indignation at his disgrace, Ande hastened home with flying
feet. His mother had already retired. In anguish of soul, he quietly
stole up the little attic stairs to retire, but not to sleep.