"Stop! It looks so bright that there must be something going on.
Surely the yeomanry can never have come on here already?"
Tom laid his hand on the bridle, and they halted on the road
opposite the public-house, which lay a little back, with an open
space of ground before it. The sign-post, and a long water-trough
for the horses of guests to drink at, were pushed forward to the
side of road to intimate the whereabouts of the house, and the
hack which Harry led was already drinking eagerly.
"Stay here for a minute, and I'll go to the window, and see
what's up inside. It's very unlucky, but it will never do for us
to go in if there are any people there."
Tom stole softly up to the window out of which the light came. A
little scrap of a curtain was drawn across a portion of it, but
he could see easily into the room on either side of the curtain.
The first glance comforted him, for he saw at once that there was
only one person in the kitchen; but who and what he might be was
a puzzle. The only thing which was clear at a first glance was,
that he was making himself at home.
The room was a moderate-sized kitchen, with a sanded floor, and a
large fire-place; a high wooden screen, with a narrow seat in
front of it, ran along the side on which the door from the
entrance-passage opened. In the middle there was a long rough
walnut table, on which stood a large loaf, some cold bacon and
cheese, and a yellow jug; a few heavy rush-bottomed chairs and a
settle composed the rest of the furniture. On the wall were a few
samplers, a warming pan, and shelves with some common delf
plates, and cups and saucers. But though the furniture was meagre
enough, the kitchen had a look of wondrous comfort for a drenched
mortal outside. Tom felt this keenly, and, after a glance round,
fixed his attention on the happy occupant, with the view of
ascertaining whether he would be a safe person to intrude on
under the circumstances. He was seated on a low, three-cornered
oak seat, with his back to the window, steadying a furze fagot on
the fire with the poker. The fagot blazed and crackled, and
roared up the chimney, sending out the bright flickering light
which had attracted them, and forming a glorious top to the
glowing clear fire of wood embers beneath, into which was
inserted a long, funnel-shaped tin, out of which the figure
helped himself to some warm compound, when he had settled the
fagot to his satisfaction. He was enveloped as to his shoulders
in a heavy, dirty-white coat, with huge cape and high collar,
which hid the back of his head, such as was then in use by
country carriers; but the garment was much too short for him, and
his bare arms came out a foot beyond the end of the sleeves. The
rest of his costume was even more eccentric, being nothing more
or less than a coarse flannel petticoat, and his bare feet rested
on the mat in front of the fire.
Tom felt a sudden doubt as to his sanity, which doubt was
apparently shared by the widow woman, who kept the house, and her
maid-of-all-work, one or other of whom might be seen constantly
keeping an eye on their guest from behind the end of the wooden
screen. However, it was no time to be over particular; they must
rest before going further, and, after all, it was only one man.
So Tom thought, and was just on the point of calling Harry to
come on, when the figure turned round towards the window, and the
face of the lieutenant disclosed itself between the high-peaked
gills of the carrier's coat. Tom burst out into a loud laugh, and
called out,--
"It's all right, come along."
"I'll just look to the hosses, Master Tom."
"Very well, and then come into the kitchen;" saying which, he
hurried into the house, and after tumbling against the
maid-of-all-work in the passage, emerged from behind the screen.
"Well, here we are at last, old fellow," he said, slapping East
on the shoulder.
"Oh, it's you, is it? I thought you were in the lock-up by this
time."
East's costume, as he sat looking up, with a hand on each knee,
was even more ridiculous on a close inspection, and Tom roared
with laughter again.
"I don't see the joke," said East without moving a muscle.
"You would, though, if you could see yourself. You wonderful old
Guy, where did you pick up that toggery?"
"The late lamented husband of the widow Higgs, our landlady, was
the owner of the coat. He also bequeathed to her several pairs of
breeches, which I have vainly endeavored to get into. The late
lamented Higgs was an abominably small man. He must have been
very much her worse half. So, in default of other clothing, the
widow has kindly obliged me by the loan of one of her own
garments."
"Where are your own clothes?"
"There," said East, pointing to a clothes' horse, which Tom had
not hitherto remarked, which stood well into the chimney corner;
"and they are dry, too," he went on, feeling them; "at least the
flannel shirt and trousers are, so I'll get into them again."
"I say, ma'am," he called out, addressing the screen, "I'm going
to change my things. So you had better not look in just now. In
fact, we can call now, if we want anything."
At this strong hint the widow Higgs was heard bustling away
behind the screen, and after her departure East got into some of
his own clothes again, offering the cast-off garments of the
Higgs family to Tom, who, however, declined, contenting himself
with taking off his coat and waistcoat, and hanging them upon the
horse. He had been blown comparatively dry in the last half-hour
of his walk.
While East was making his toilet, Tom turned to the table, and
made an assault on the bread and bacon, and then poured himself
out a glass of beer and began to drink it, but was pulled up half
way, and put it down with a face all drawn up into puckers by its
sharpness.
"I thought you wouldn't appreciate the widow's tap," said East,
watching him with a grin. "Regular whistle-belly vengeance, and
no mistake! Here, I don't mind giving you some of my compound,
though you don't deserve it."
So Tom drew his chair to the fire, and smacked his lips over the
long-necked glass, which East handed to him.
"Ah! that's not bad tipple after such a ducking as we've had.
Dog's-nose, isn't it?"
East nodded.
"Well, old fellow, I will say you are the best hand I know at
making the most of your opportunities. I don't know of anyone
else who could have made such a good brew out of that stuff and a
drop of gin."
East was not to be mollified by any such compliment. "Have you
got many more such jobs as to-day's on hand? I should think they
must interfere with reading."
"No. But I call to-day's a real good job."
"Do you? I don't agree. Of course it's a matter of taste. I have
the honor of holding Her Majesty's commission; so I may be
prejudiced, perhaps."
"What difference does it make whose commission you hold? You
wouldn't hold any commission, I know, which would bind you to be
a tyrant and oppress the weak and the poor."
"Humbug about your oppressing! Who is the tyrant, I should like
to know, the farmer, or the mob that destroys his property? I
don't call Swing's mob the weak and the poor."
"That's all very well; but I should like to know how you'd feel
if you had no work and a starving family. You don't know what
people have to suffer. The only wonder is that all the country
isn't in a blaze; and it will be if things last as they are much
longer. It must be a bad time which makes such men as Harry
Winburn into rioters."
"I don't know anything about Harry Winburn. But I know there's a
good deal to be said on the yeomanry side of the question."
"Well, now, East, just consider this-"
"No, I'm not in the humour for considering. I don't want to argue
with you."
"Yes, that's always the way. You won't hear what a fellow's got
to say, and then set him down for a mischievous fool, because he
won't give up beliefs founded on the evidence of his own eyes,
and ears, and reason."
"I don't quarrel with any of your beliefs. You've got 'em--I
haven't--that's just the difference between us. You've got some
sort of faith to fall back upon, in equality, and brotherhood,
and a lot of cursed nonsense of that kind. So, I daresay, you
could drop down into a navigator, or a shoeblack, or something in
that way, to-morrow, and think it pleasant. You might rather
enjoy a trip across the water at the expense of your country,
like your friend the convict here."
"Don't talk such rot, man. In the first place, he isn't a
convict; you know that well enough."
"He is just out of prison, at any rate. However, this sort of
thing isn't my line of country at all. So the next time you want
to do a bit of gaol delivery on your own hook, don't ask me to
help you."
"Well, if I had known all that was going to happen, I wouldn't
have asked you to come, old fellow. Come, give us another glass
of your dog's-nose, and no more of your sermon, which isn't
edifying."
The lieutenant filled the long-necked glass which Tom held out,
with the creaming mixture, which he was nursing in the
funnel-shaped tin. But he was not prepared to waive his right to
lecture, and so continued, while Tom sipped his liquor with much
relish, and looked comically across at his old schoolfellow.
"Some fellows have a call to set the world right--I haven't. My
gracious sovereign pays me seven and sixpence a day; for which
sum I undertake to be shot at on certain occasions and by proper
persons, and I hope when the time comes I shall take it as well
as another. But that doesn't include turning out to be potted at
like a woodcock on your confounded Berkshire wilds by a
turnip-headed yeoman. It isn't to be done at the figure."
"What in the world do you mean?"
"I mean just what I say."
"That one of those unspeakable yeomanry has been shooting at
you?"
"Just so."
"No, you don't really mean it? Wh-e-e-w! Then that shot we heard
was fired at you. 'Pon my honor, I'm very sorry."
"Much good your sorrow would have done me if your precious
countryman had held straight."
"Well, what can I say more, East? If there's anything I can do to
show you that I really am very sorry and ashamed at having
brought you into such a scrape, only tell me what it is."
"I don't suppose your word would go for much at the Horse Guards,
or I'd ask you to give me a character for coolness under fire."
"Come, I see you're joking now, old fellow. Do tell us how it
happened."
"Well, when you turned off across the common, I pulled up for
half a minute, and then held on at a steady slow trot. If I had
pushed on ahead, my friend behind would have been just as likely
to turn after you as after me. Presently I heard Number One
coming tearing along behind; and as soon as he got from between
the banks, he saw me and came straight after me down the road.
You were well away to the left, so now I just clapped on a bit,
to lead him further away from the right scent, and on he came,
whooping and hallooing to me to pull up. I didn't see why I
hadn't just as good a right to ride along the road at my own pace
as he; so the more he shouted, the more I didn't stop. But the
beggar had the legs of me. He was mounted on something deuced
like a thoroughbred, and gained on me hand over hand. At last
when I judged he must be about twenty yards behind, I thought I
might as well have a look at him, so I just turned for a moment,
when, by Jove, there was my lord, lugging a pistol out of his
right holster. He shouted again to me to stop. I turned, ducked
my head, and the next moment he pulled trigger, and missed me."
"And what happened then," said Tom, eagerly drawing a long
breath.
"Why, I flatter myself I showed considerable generalship. If I
had given him time to get at his other pistol, or his toasting
fork, it was all up. I dived into my pocket, where by good luck
there was some loose powder, and copper caps, and a snuff-box;
upset the snuff, grabbed a handful of the mixture, and pulled
hard at my horse. Next moment he was by my side, lifting his
pistol to knock me over. So I gave him the mixture right in the
face, and let him go by. Up went both his hands, and away went he
and his horse, somewhere over the common out of sight. I just
turned round, and walked quietly back. I didn't see the fun of
accepting any more attacks in the rear. Then up rides Number Two,
a broad-faced young farmer on a big gray horse, blowing like a
grampus. He pulled up short when we met, and stared, and I walked
past him. You never saw a fellow look more puzzled. I had
regularly stale-mated him. However, he took heart, and shouted,
'had I met the Captain?' I said, 'A gentleman had ridden by on a
bright bay.' 'That was he; which way had he gone?' So I pointed
generally over the common, and Number Two departed; and then down
came the storm, and I turned again, and came on here."
"The Captain! It must have been Wurley, then, who fired at you."
"I don't know who it was. I only hope he won't be blinded."
"It's a strange business altogether," said Tom, looking into the
fire; "I scarcely know what to think of it. We should never have
pulled through but for you, that's certain."
"I know what to think of it well enough," said East. "But now
let's hear what happened to you. They didn't catch you, of
course?"
"No, but it was touch and go. I thought it was all up at one
time, for Harry would turn right across their line. But he knew
what he was about; there was a bog between us, and they came on
right into it, and we left them floundering."
"The convict seems to have his head about him, then. Where is he,
by the way? I'm curious to have a look at him."
"Looking after the horses. I'll call him in. He ought have
something to drink."
Tom went to the door and called Harry, who came out from the
rough shed which served as a stable, in his shirt, with a wisp of
hay in his hand. He had stripped off coat, and waistcoat, and
braces, and had been warming himself by giving the horses a good
dressing.
"Why, Harry, you haven't had anything," said Tom; "come across
and have a glass of something hot."
Harry followed into the kitchen, and stood by the end of the
screen, looking rather uncomfortable, while Tom poured him out a
glass of the hot mixture, and the lieutenant looked him over with
keen eyes.
"There, take that off. How are the horses?"
"Pretty fresh, Master Tom; but they'd be the better of a bran
mash, or somethin' cumfable. I've spoke to the missus about it,
and 'tis ready to put on the fire."
"That's right then. Let them have it as quick as you can."
"Then I med fetch it and warm it up here, sir?" said Harry.
"To be sure; the sooner the better."
Harry took off his glass, making a shy sort of duck with his
head, accompanied by "your health, sir," to each of his
entertainers, and then disappeared into the back kitchen,
returned with the mash, which he put on the fire, and went off to
the stable again.
"What do you think of him?" said Tom.
"I like to see a fellow let his braces down when he goes to
work," said East.
"It's not every fellow who would be strapping away at those
horses, instead of making himself at home in the back kitchen."
"No, it isn't," said East.
"Don't you like his looks now?"
"He's not a bad sort, your convict."
"I say, I wish you wouldn't call him names."
"Very good; your unfortunate friend, then. What are you going to
do with him?"
"That's just what I've been puzzling about all the way here. What
do you think?" And then they drew to the fire again, and began to
talk over Harry's prospects. In some ten minutes he returned to
the kitchen for the mash, and this time drew a complimentary
remark from the lieutenant.
Harry was passionately fond of animals, and especially of horses,
and they found it out quickly enough as they always do. The two
hacks were by this time almost fresh again, with dry coats, and
feet well washed and cleansed; and while working at them, Harry
had been thinking over all he had heard that evening, and what
with the work and what with his thoughts, found himself getting
more hopeful every minute. No one who had seen his face an hour
before on the heath would have believed it was the same man who
was now patting and fondling the two hacks as they disposed of
the mash he had prepared for them. He leant back against the
manger, rubbing the ears of Tom's hack--the one which had carried
double so well in their first flight--gently with his two hands,
while the delighted beast bent down its head, and pressed it
against him, and stretched its neck, expressing in all manner of
silent ways its equine astonishment and satisfaction. By the
light of the single dip, Harry's face grew shorter and shorter,
until at last, a quiet humorous look began to creep back into it.
As we have already taken the liberty of putting the thoughts of
his betters into words, we must now do so for him; and, if he had
expressed his thoughts in his own vernacular as he rubbed the
hack's ears in the stable, his speech would have been much as
follows:--
"How cums it as I be all changed like, as tho' sum un had tuk and
rubbed all the downheartedness out o' me? Here I be, two days out
o' gaol, wi' nothin' in the world but the things I stands
in,--for in course I med just give up the bits o' things as is
left at Daddy Collins's--and they all draggled wi' the wet--and I
med be tuk in the mornin' and sent across the water; and yet I
feels sum how as peert as a yukkel. So fur as I can see, 'tis
jest nothin' but talkin' wi' our Master Tom. What a fine thing
'tis to be a schollard. And yet seemin'ly 'tis nothin' but talk
arter all's said and done. But 'tis allus the same; whenever I
gets talkin' wi' he, it all cums out as smooth as crame. Fust
time as ever I seen him since we wur bwys he talked just as a do
now; and then my poor mother died. Then he come in arter the
funeral, and talked me up agen, till I thought as I wur to hev
our cottage and all the land as I could do good by. But our
cottage wur tuk away, and my 'lotment besides. Then cum last
summer, and 'twur just the same agen arter his talk, but I got
dree months auver that job. And now 'ere I be wi un agen,
a-runnin' from the constable; and like to be tuk up and
transpworted, and 'tis just the same; and I s'pose 'twill be just
the same if ever I gets back, and sees un, and talks wi' un, if I
be gwine to be hung. 'Tis a wunnerful thing to be a schollard, to
be able to make things look all straight when they be ever so
akkerd and unked."
And then Harry left off rubbing the horse's ears; and, pulling
the damp piece of paper, which Tom had given him, out of his
breeches' pocket, proceeded to flatten it out tenderly on the
palm of his hand, and read it by the light of the dip, when the
landlady came to inform him that the gentlefolk wanted him in the
kitchen. So he folded his treasure up again, and went off to the
kitchen. He found Tom standing with his back to the fire, while
the lieutenant was sitting at the table, writing on a scrap of
paper, which the landlady had produced after much hunting over of
drawers. Tom began, with some little hesitation:--
"Oh, Harry, I've been talking matters over with my friend here,
and I've changed my mind. It won't do after all for you to stay
about at railway work, or anything of that sort. You see you
wouldn't be safe. They'd be sure to trace you, and you'd get into
trouble about this day's work. And then, after all, it's a very
poor opening for a young fellow like you. Now, why shouldn't you
enlist into Mr. East's regiment? You'll be in his company, and
it's a splendid profession. What do you say now?"
East looked up at poor Harry, who was quite taken aback at this
change in his prospects, and could only mutter, that he had never
turned his mind to "sodgerin."
"It's just the thing for you," Tom went on. "You can write and
keep accounts, and you'll get on famously. Ask Mr. East if you
won't. And don't you fear about matters at home. You'll see
that'll all come right. I'll pledge you my word it will, and I'll
take care that you shall hear everything that goes on there; and,
depend upon it, it's your best chance. You'll be back at
Englebourn as a sergeant in no time, and be able to snap your
fingers at them all. You'll come with us to Steventon station,
and take the night train to London, and then in the morning go to
Whitehall, and find Mr. East's sergeant. He'll give you a note to
him, and they'll send you on to Chatham, where the regiment is.
You think it's the best thing for him, don't you?" said Tom,
turning to East.
"Yes; I think you'll do very well if you only keep steady. Here's
a note to the sergeant, and I shall be back at Chatham in a day
or two myself."
Harry took the note mechanically; he was quite unable yet to make
any resistance.
"And now get something to eat as quick as you can, for we ought
to be off. The horses are all right, I suppose?"
"Yes, Master Tom," said Harry, with an appealing look.
"Where are your coat and waistcoat, Harry?"
"They be in the stable, sir."
"In the stable! Why, they're all wet, then, still?"
"Oh, 'tis no odds about that, Master Tom."
"No odds! Get them in directly, and put them to dry here."
So Harry Winburn went off to the stable to fetch his clothes.
"He's a fine fellow," said East, getting up and coming to the
fire; "I've taken quite a fancy to him, but he doesn't fancy
enlisting."
"Poor fellow! he has to leave his sweetheart. It's a sad
business, but it's the best thing for him, and you'll see he'll
go."
Tom was right. Poor Harry came in and dried his clothes, and got
his supper; and while he was eating it, and all along the road
afterwards, till they reached the station at about eleven
o'clock, pleaded in his plain way with Tom against leaving his
own country side. And East listened silently, and liked him
better and better.
Tom argued with him gently, and turned the matter round on all
sides, putting the most hopeful face upon it; and, in the end,
talked first himself and then Harry into the belief that it was
the best thing that could have happened to him, and more likely
than any other course of action to bring everything right between
him and all the folk at Englebourn.
So they got into the train at Steventon in pretty good heart,
with his fare paid, and half-a-sovereign in his pocket, more and
more impressed in his mind with what a wonderful thing it was to
be "a schollard."
The two friends rode back to Oxford at a good pace. They had both
of them quite enough to think about, and were not in the humour
for talk, had place and time served, so that scarce a word passed
between them till they had left their horses at the livery
stables, and were walking through the silent streets, a few
minutes before midnight. Then East broke silence.
"I can't make out how you do it. I'd give half-a-year's pay to
get the way of it."
"The way of what? What an you talking about?"
"Why, your way of shutting your eyes, and going in blind."
"Well, that's a queer wish for a fighting man," said Tom,
laughing. "We always thought a rusher no good at school, and that
the thing to learn was, to go in with your own eyes open, and
shut up other people's."
"Ah but we hadn't cut our eye-teeth then. I look at these things
from a professional point of view. My business is to get fellows
to shut their eyes tight, and I begin to think you can't do it as
it should be done, without shutting your own first."
"I don't take."
"Why, look at the way you talked your convict--I beg your
pardon--your unfortunate friend--into enlisting tonight. You
talked as if you believed every word you were saying to him."
"So I did."
"Well, I should like to have you for a recruiting sergeant, if
you could only drop that radical bosh. If I had had to do it,
instead of enlisting, he would have gone straight off and hung
himself in the stable."
"I'm glad you didn't try your hand at it then."
"Look again at me. Do you think anyone but such a--well I don't
want to say anything uncivil--a headlong dog like you could have
got me into such a business as to-day's? Now I want to be able to
get other fellows to make just such fools of themselves as I've
made of myself to-day. How do you do it?"
"I don't know, unless it is that I can't help always looking at
the best side of things myself, and so--"
"Most things haven't got a best side."
"Well, at the pretty good side, then."
"Nor a pretty good one."
"If they haven't got a pretty good one, it don't matter how you
look at them, I should think."
"No, I don't believe it does--much. Still, I should like to be
able to make a fool of myself, too, when I want, with the view of
getting others to do ditto, of course."
"I wish I could help you, old fellow; but I don't see my way to
it."
"I shall talk to our regimental doctor about it, and get put
through a course of fool's-diet before we start for India."
"Flap-doodle, they call it, what fools are fed on. But it's odd
that you should have broken out in this place, when all the way
home I've been doing nothing but envying you your special
talent."
"What's that?"
"Just the opposite one--the art of falling on your feet. I should
like to exchange with you."
"You'd make a precious bad bargain of it, then."
"There's twelve striking. I must knock in. Good night. You'll be
round to breakfast at nine."
"All right. I believe in your breakfasts, rather," said East, as
they shook hands at the gate of St. Ambrose, into which Tom
disappeared, while the lieutenant strolled back to the "Mitre."