A long tramp in silence; but they did not get over the ground very
rapidly, for Pan's pace grew slower and slower, and when urged by Sydney
to keep up he made no reply.
"Come along," said Syd at last; "do try and make haste."
"I arn't in a hurry," came in a surly growl.
"But I am. I want to get back before it's light; we don't want to be
seen."
"Don't matter whether we're seen or whether we arn't; they'll be
awaitin' for us."
"Can't help it, Pan," said Syd with a sigh; "we've got to go through
it."
"I hope, Master Syd, you won't get no rope's-end."
"I'd take yours for you if I could, Pan."
"Ah, you say so," sneered the lad, as he dragged one foot after the
other, "but you know you can't."
"I know I would," cried Syd, hotly. "But it's of no use to talk. We've
got to go through it like men would."
"Men don't have no rope's-ending," grumbled Pan.
They went on back for another half-mile, with the stars shining
brightly, and seeming to wink derisively at them; and just as Sydney had
fancied this, as he gazed up at the broad band of glittering light seen
through the dense growth of trees which shut them in on either side, a
loud, ringing, mocking laugh smote their ears, that sounded so strange
and jeering, that the boys stopped short.
"What's that?" whispered Syd.
"Only a howl. Why, you've heard 'em lots of times."
"But it never sounded like that before."
"You never heard it out in the woods before. There she goes again."
The shout rang out again, but more distant. "Hoi, hoi, hoi, hoi!"
sounding now more like a hail.
"Oh, yes, it is an owl," said Sydney, breathing more freely. "Come
along."
Pan did not move, but stood with his hands in his pockets, and his
shoulders up to his ears.
"Do you hear? Come along, and let's get it over."
No answer--no movement.
"Don't be stupid, Pan. I know you're tired, but you are no more tired
than I am."
"Yes, I am--ever so much."
"You're not. You're pretending, because you don't want to come back.
Now then, no nonsense."
Pan stood like a stork, with his chin down upon his chest.
"Will--you--come--on?"
It was very dark, but Sydney could just make out that the boy shook his
head.
"Then it isn't because you are so tired. It's obstinacy."
No response.
"I declare you're as obstinate as an old donkey; and if you don't come
on I'll serve you the same."
Pan did not stir.
"Do you want me to cut a stick, and make you come, Pan?"
Still no reply; and weary, hungry, and disgusted with himself as well as
his companion, Sydney felt in that state of irritable rawness which can
best be described as having the skin off his temper. He was just in the
humour to quarrel; and now, stirred beyond bearing by his companion's
obstinacy, Syd flew at him, grasped his arm, gave it a tug which
snatched it from the pocket, and roared out--
"Come on!"
Then he retreated a step, for, to his intense surprise, there came from
the lad, who had always been obedient and respectful, a short, snappish
"Shan't!" which was more like the bark of a dog than the utterance of a
boy.
"What!" cried Sydney, as he recovered from his surprise, and felt the
blood flush in his face.
"Says I shan't. I arn't coming home to be larruped."
"You are not coming home?"
"No, I arn't. He's waitin' for me with a big rope's-end all soaked
hard, and I know what that means, so I shan't come."
Sydney drew a long breath as he reviewed their position, and told
himself that it was more his fault than that of the gardener's boy that
they were there.
"I know better than he does, and ought to have stopped him instead of
going with him, and he shall come back, because it's right."
"Now then, Pan," he said aloud, "I am going back home."
"All right, Master Syd, go home then; but I didn't think you was such a
coward."
"It isn't being a coward to go back, Pan; it's being a coward to run
away."
"No, it arn't."
"Yes, it is, so come along."
"I shan't."
"Yes, you will, sir; I order you to come home with me at once."
"Shan't come to be rope's-ended, I tell you. I'm going away by myself
if you won't come."
"You are coming home with me, and we're going to ask them to forgive us
for being so stupid. Now then; will you come?"
"No."
"Do you want me to make you?"
"I don't want no more to do with you; you're a coward."
Sydney made a dart to seize his arm, but Pan dodged, and there was no
sign of weariness now, for he bounded aside, and then set off running
fast in the opposite direction to that in which his companion wished him
to go.
Pan placed half a dozen good yards between them before Sydney recovered
from his surprise. Then without hesitation the pursuit began, both lads
striving their utmost to escape and capture, and at the end of a couple
of hundred yards Syd had done so well that with a final bound he flung
himself upon his quarry, and grasped at his collar.
The result was not anticipated. Sydney missed the collar, but the
impetus he gave to the boy he pursued was sufficient to send him
sprawling in the dirty road; and unable to check himself, Sydney came
down heavily on Pan's back.
"Now then, will you come home?" panted Sydney.
"Oh! Ah!"
Two loud yells as Pan wrested himself over, strove to get up, was
resisted, and then for five minutes there was a fierce wrestling bout,
now down, now up, in which Sydney found himself getting the worst of it;
and feeling that in another minute Pan would get free and escape, he
changed his mode of attack, striking his adversary a heavy blow in the
face, with the natural result that the wrestling bout became a fight.
Here Sydney soon showed his superiority, easily avoiding Pan's ugly
rushes, and dealing such a shower of blows upon the lad's head that
before many minutes had elapsed Pan was seated in one of the wettest
parts of the road, whimpering and howling, while Sydney stood over him
with fists clenched.
"You're a coward, that's what you are," howled Pan.
"Get up then, and I'll show you I'm not. Do you hear?"
"How-ow!"
"Don't howl like a dog. Get up, sir, and take your beating like a man,"
said Syd.
"I didn't think it of you, Master Syd," whimpered Pan.
"Now will you get up and walk home?"
For answer the boy got up slowly and laboriously, went on a few yards in
front, and Sydney followed, feeling, as he thought, as if he was driving
a donkey home.
For about a mile Pan walked steadily on, with Sydney feeling better than
he had since he left home, although his knuckles were bruised, and there
was a dull aching sensation in one angle of his jaw. He had gained two
victories, and in spite of his weariness something very near akin to
satisfaction began to warm his heart, till all at once the figure of Pan
began to be visible; and as at the end of another hundred yards or so
they came out upon a patch of open forest land, the figure was much
plainer. So was his own, as he looked down and saw in dismay that it
would soon be broad daylight, that they were some miles from the
Heronry, and that Pan was covered with mud, his face smeared with ruddy
stains, and that he, Sydney Belton, known as "the young gentleman up at
the house," was in very little better trim.