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The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 17. Dummy Turns Stunt |
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_ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. DUMMY TURNS STUNT Dummy Rugg caught the pony, after seeing that his young mistress was unhurt at Master Rayburn's cottage; and, perfectly calm now, the girl insisted upon remounting, the old man opposing her, until Dummy gave him a curious look or two, and a nod of the head. "And there is no need whatever for you to go up home with me, Master Rayburn," she said. "It is all uphill now, and the pony will not run away again." "Very well, Mistress Obstinacy," said the old man, smiling and patting her cheek, before helping her on the pony; "but I feel as if I ought to see you home safely." "There is no need, indeed," cried the girl. "Goodbye, and thank you. I'm afraid I frightened you." "You did, my child, terribly. More than you frightened yourself. I was afraid that the little girl who used to ask for rides on _my_ foot would be killed." "But it was only a gallop, Master Rayburn," said the girl, leaning forward to receive the old man's kiss. "Please, if you see Mark, don't say anything about it, or he will not lend me his pony again.--Now Dummy, let go the rein." "Come on!" growled the lad, leading the frisky little animal, and Master Rayburn chuckled a little, for the boy bent his head, rounded his shoulders, and paid not the slightest heed to the order he had received. "Do you hear, Dummy? Let go." Dummy let go of the rein by passing his arm through, and thrust his hand into his pocket. "Do you hear me, sir?" cried the girl imperiously. "Let go of that rein directly." "Have let go," grumbled the boy. "Go away from his head, and walk behind." "Run away agen if I do," said Dummy. "He will not," cried the girl angrily. "I shall hold him in more tightly." "Haven't got strength enough." "I have, sir. How dare you! Let go." "Nay: Master Mark would hit me if I did, and Sir Edward'd half-kill me." "What nonsense, sir! Let go directly." Dummy shook his big head, and trudged on by the pony. "Oh!" cried the girl, with the tears of vexation rising in her eyes. "I will not be led, as if I were a little child. Go behind, sir, directly." "Nay," growled Dummy. "Let go, sir, or I'll beat you with the whip.--Ah! where is it?" "Beat away," said Dummy. "I really will, sir, if you don't let go." Dummy laughed softly, and Mary Eden could not see his face, but she saw his shoulders shaking; and in her anger she leaned forward and tried to drag the rein from the lad's arm. "You'll have him off the path agen if you don't mind, Mistress Mary." "Where is my whip? I've lost my whip," cried the girl. "Good job--for me," said the boy, with a little laugh. "If you don't let go of that rein, directly, sir, I'll make my brother beat you," cried Mary angrily. "You won't tell him he ran away," said the boy, without turning his head. "Then my father shall, sirrah!" "Won't tell him neither, mistress." "Then I'll tell him you were rude and impertinent to me, sirrah, and he'll have you horsewhipped for that." "Master Mark's sister couldn't tell a lie with her pretty little lips," said the boy quietly, and never once looking round. "Pony's too fresh, and I won't see my young mistress get into trouble again--so there!" Mary Eden flushed with annoyance, and tried to stamp her foot, but only shook the stirrup, and sat still for a few moments, before trying cajolery. "The pony's quite quiet now, Dummy," she said gently. "Let him have his head again--there's a good boy." Dummy shook his own, and Mary bit her red lip, and made it scarlet. "But I shouldn't like to be seen led up home like this, Dummy," she said softly. "It looks as if I can't ride." "Every one knows you can ride beautiful, mistress." "But please let go now." "Nay: won't." "I'll give you some money, Dummy." "Wouldn't for two donkey panniers full o' gold--there!" cried the lad. "Come on." This to the pony, and then the boy checked the cob. "That your whip, mistress?" he said, turning and wagging his head sidewise towards where, half-a-dozen yards down the steep slope, the whip lay, where Ralph had kicked it on to a clump of brambles. "Yes, yes; get it for me, please," cried the girl eagerly. Dummy drew his arm from the pony's rein, leaped off the shelf path, and lowered himself step by step toward the whip; and the girl, after waiting a few seconds, with her eyes flashing with satisfaction, shook the rein, kicked at her steed's ribs, and did all she could to urge it forward. "Go on--go on!" she whispered sharply. Then, as this was of no avail, she began to saw the bit to and fro in its mouth, but only made the animal swing its head from side to side in response to each drag, keeping all four legs planted out firmly like a mule's, and obstinately refusing to move. "Oh, you wicked wretch!" cried the girl angrily; "go on--go on!" At the first efforts she made to force the pony on and leave him behind, Dummy turned sharply, and made a bound to catch at the rein; but as soon as he grasped the stubborn creature's mood--knowing its nature by heart--he chuckled softly, and went on down to where the whip lay, recovered it as deliberately as he could, and began to climb the slope again. "It aren't no good, Miss Mary," he said; "he won't go till I get back to his head." "Go on--go on, sir!" cried the girl angrily, as she saw her last chance of escape dying away; and then, hardly able to restrain the tears of vexation, for Dummy climbed back on to the track, went to his old place by the pony's head, and handed her the whip. Mary snatched it in an instant, and struck the pony a sharp blow, which, instead of making it leap forward, had the opposite effect; for it backed, and but for Dummy seizing the rein once more, its hind-legs would have gone over the edge. "Look at that, mistress," said the boy quietly; "see what you nearly did;" and, slipping his arm through once more, he walked on, cheek by jowl with the pony, which seemed on the most friendly terms with him, swinging its nose round and making little playful bites at his stout doublet. "Now, sir," cried Mary angrily, "I have my whip, and if you do not leave the pony's head directly, and come round to the back, I'll beat you." "Nay, not you," said the boy, without looking round. "Why, if I did, the pony would only turn about and follow me." "He would not." "There, then, see," said the boy; and slipping out his arm, he turned and walked back, the pony pivoting round directly. "Told you so," said Dummy, and he resumed his old place, with his arm through the rein. "You told him to turn round, sir." "Nay, never spoke to him, Miss Mary.--There, it aren't no good to be cross with me; I shan't leave you till you're safe home." The girl, flushed with passion, leaned forward, and struck the lad sharply over the shoulders three times. "There, sir," she cried; "what do you say to that?" "Thank ye," replied the boy coolly. "Frighten away the flies." Whish-whish-whish, came the whip through the air. "Now then," cried Mary; "what do you say now?" "Hit harder, mistress," said the boy, with a chuckle; "that only tickles." "Oh!" cried Mary, in a burst of passion. "I did like you, Dummy, but you're a nasty, ugly old thing;" and she subsided in her saddle, sobbing with vexation, while Dummy rounded his shoulders a little more, and plodded on in silence, with the pony's shoes tapping the stony path, as it playfully kept on making little bites at different parts of the boy's clothes. "'Taren't no use to be cross with me, mistress," said the boy at last. "Can't help it. You don't know, and I do. S'pose he runs off again, and Master Mark says to me, 'Why didn't you lead her home?' what am I to say?" Mary sat gazing straight before her, and had to ride ignominiously back to the zigzags leading up to the top of the Black Tor, where she dismounted, and Dummy led the pony to its underground stable. "I shan't tell Master Mark," said the boy to the pony, as he took off bridle and saddle; "and you can't, Ugly; and she won't neither, so nobody'll never know." _ |
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