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Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 13. Rampant Beef |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTEEN. RAMPANT BEEF "Here's something the matter!" cried Dexter; and, forgetting everything in the excitement of the moment, he ran back as hard as he could tear to the footpath leading to the stile they had crossed, the high untrimmed hedge between the fields concealing what was taking place. Helen followed quickly, feeling certain the while that the drove of bullocks in the next meadow were the cause of the trouble and alarm. Dexter reached the stile far in advance; and when at last Helen attained to the same post of observation, it was to see Sir James Danby at the far side standing upon the next stile toward the town, shouting, and frantically waving his hat and stick, while between her and the stout baronet there was the drove of bullocks, and Dexter approaching them fast. For a few moments Helen could not understand what was the matter, but directly after, to her horror, she saw that young Edgar Danby was on the ground, with one of the bullocks standing over him, smelling at the prostrate boy, and apparently trying to turn him over with one of its horns. "Here! Hi!" shouted Dexter; "bring me your stick." But Sir James, who had been chased by the leading bullock, was breathless, exhausted, and too nervous to attempt his son's rescue. All he seemed capable of doing was to shout hoarsely, and this he did more feebly every moment. Dexter made a rush at the bullocks, and the greater part of the drove turned tail; but, evidently encouraged by its success, the leader of the little herd stood firm, tossed its head on high, shook its horns, and uttered a defiant bellow. "Here, I can't do anything without a stick," said Dexter, in an ill-used tone, and he turned and ran toward Sir James, while, still more encouraged by what must have seemed to its dense brain like a fresh triumph, the bullock placed one of its horns under Edgar Danby and cleverly turned him right over. "Here, give me your stick!" shouted Dexter, as he ran up to Sir James. "You shouldn't be afraid o' them." "The boy will be killed," cried Sir James, in agony; and he shouted again, "Help! help!" "No, he won't," cried Dexter, snatching the magistrate's heavy ebony stick from his hand. "I'll make 'em run." Raising the stick in the air, Dexter ran toward where the whole drove were trotting back, and gathering round their leader, who now began to sing its war-song, throwing up its muzzle so as to straighten its throat, and emitting a bellow that was, in spite of its size, but a poor, feeble imitation of the roar of a lion. As Dexter ran up, the drove stood firm for a few moments; then the nearest to him arched its back, curved its tail, executed a clumsy gambol, turned, and fled, the rest taking their cues from this, the most timid in the herd, and going off in a lumbering gallop, their heads now down, and their tails rigid, excepting a few inches, and the hairy tuft at the end. But the leader stood fast, and shaking its head, bellowed, looked threatening, and lowering one of its long horns, thrust it into the earth, and began to plough up the soft, moist soil. "Oh, you would, would you?" cried Dexter, who did not feel in the slightest degree alarmed, from ignorance probably more than bravery; and, dashing in, he struck out with the ebony stick so heavy a blow upon the end of the horn raised in the air that the ebony snapped in two, and the bullock, uttering a roar of astonishment and pain, swung round, and galloped after its companions, which were now facing round at the top of the field. "Broke his old stick," said Dexter, as he bent over Edgar. "Here, I say; get up. They're gone now. You ain't hurt." Hurt or no, Edgar did not hear him, but lay there with his clothes soiled, and his tall hat trampled on by the drove, and crushed out of shape. "I say," said Dexter, shaking him; "why don't you get up?" Poor Edgar made no reply, for he was perfectly insensible and cadaverous of hue. "Here! Hi! Come here!" cried Dexter, rising and waving his hands, first to Helen, and then to Sir James. "They won't hurt you. Come on." The effect of the boy's shout was to make the spot where he now knelt down by Edgar Danby the centre upon which the spectators sought to gather. Helen set off first; Sir James, feeling very nervous, followed her example; and the drove of bullocks, with quivering tails and moistening nostrils, also began to trot back, while Dexter got one arm beneath the insensible boy, and tried hard to lift him, and carry him to the stile nearest the town. But the Union diet had not supplied him with sufficient muscle, and after getting the boy well on his shoulder, and staggering along a few paces, he stopped. "Oh, I say," he muttered; "ain't he jolly heavy?" A bellow from the leader of the bullocks made Dexter look round, and take in the position, which was that the drove were again approaching, and that this combined movement had had the effect of making Helen and Sir James both stop some forty yards away. "Here, come on!" cried Dexter. "I'll see as they don't hurt you." And Helen obeyed; but Sir James hesitated, till, having somewhat recovered his nerve, and moved by shame at seeing a young girl and a boy perform what was naturally his duty, he came on slowly, and with no little trepidation, toward where Dexter was waiting with his son. "That's right!" cried Dexter. "Come along. You come and carry him. I ain't strong enough. I'll soon send them off." The situation was ludicrous enough, and Sir James was angry with himself; but all the same there was the nervous trepidation to overcome, and it was a very hard fight. "Let me try and help you carry him," said Helen quickly. "No, no; you can't," cried the boy. "Let him. Oh, don't I wish I'd got a stick. Here, ketch hold." This last was to Sir James, whose face looked mottled as he came up. He obeyed the boy's command, though: took his son in his arms, and began to retreat with Helen toward the stile. Meanwhile the bullocks were coming on in their customary stupid way. "That's right; you go, sir," cried Dexter. "I'll talk to them," and, to Helen's horror, he went down on his hands and knees and ran at the drove, imitating the barking of a dog, not very naturally, but sufficiently true to life to make the drove turn tail again and gallop off, their flight being hastened by the flight of Edgar's damaged hat, which Dexter picked up and sent flying after them, and spinning through the air like a black firework till it dropped. "'Tain't no good now," said the boy, laughing to himself; "and never was much good. Only done for a cockshy. I'll take them back, though." This last was in allusion to the broken stick, which he picked up, and directly after found Master Edgar's tasselled cane, armed with which he beat a retreat toward the group making for the stile, with Helen beckoning to him to come. The bullocks made one more clumsy charge down, but the imitation dog got up by Dexter was enough to check them, and the stile was crossed in safety just as a butcher's man in blue, followed by a big rough dog, came in sight. Sir James was at first too indignant and too much upset to speak to the man. "It's of no use, Miss Grayson," he said, "but his master shall certainly be summoned for this. How dare he place those ferocious bulls in a field through which there is a right of way? O my poor boy! my poor boy! He's dead!--he's dead!" "He ain't," said Dexter sharply. "Shall I carry him, sir?" said the butcher's man, forgetful of the fact that he would come off terribly greasy on the helpless boy's black clothes. "No, man," cried Sir James. "Go and watch over those ferocious beasts, and see that they do not injure any one else." "Did they hurt him, sir!" said the man eagerly. "Hurt him! Look," cried Sir James indignantly. "He ain't hurt," said Dexter sturdily. "Only frightened. There was a chap at our school used to go like that. He's fainting, that's what he is doing. You lay him down, and wait till I come back." Dexter ran to the river, and, without a moment's hesitation, plunged in his new cap, and brought it back, streaming and dripping, with as much water as he could scoop up. Too nervous even to oppose the boy's order, Sir James had lowered his son to the ground, and, as he lay on the grass, Helen bathed and splashed his face with the water, till it was gone. "I'll soon fetch some more," cried Dexter. But it was not needed, for just then Edgar opened his eyes, looked wildly round, as if not comprehending where he was, and then exclaimed with a sob-- "Where's the bull?" "Hush! hush! my boy; you are safe now; thanks to the bravery of this gallant lad." Dexter puckered up his forehead and stared. "Where's my hat!" cried Edgar piteously. "Scrunched," said Dexter shortly. "Bullocks trod on it." "And my silver-topped cane!" "There it lies on the grass," said Dexter, stooping down and picking it up. "Oh, look at my jacket and my trousers," cried Edgar. "What a mess I'm in!" "Never mind, my boy; we will soon set that right," said Sir James. "There, try and stand up. If you can walk home it will be all the better now." "The brutes!" cried Edgar, with a passionate burst of tears. "Do you feel hurt anywhere?" said Helen kindly. "I don't know," said the boy faintly, as he rose and took his father's arm. "Can I help you, Sir James?" said Helen. "No, no, my dear Miss Grayson, we are so near home, and we will go in by the back way, so as not to call attention. I can never thank you sufficiently for your kindness, nor this brave boy for his gallantry. Good-bye. Edgar is better now. Good-bye." He shook hands warmly with both. "Shake hands with Miss Grayson, Eddy," said Sir James, while the butcher's man sat on the stile and lit his pipe. Edgar obeyed. "Now with your gallant preserver," said Sir James. Edgar, who looked extremely damp and limp, put out a hand unwillingly, and Dexter just touched it, and let his own fall. "You shall hear from me again, my man," said Sir James, now once more himself; and he spoke with great dignity. "Good day, Miss Grayson, and thanks." He went on quickly with his son, while Helen and Dexter took another footpath, leading to a stile which opened upon the road. As they reached this, Dexter laid his arm upon the top rail, and his forehead upon his wrist. "What is the matter, Dexter?" cried Helen, in alarm. "Nothing: I was only laughing," said the boy, whose shoulders were shaking with suppressed mirth. "Laughing?" "Yes. What a game! They were both afraid of the bullocks, and you've only got to go right at 'em, and they're sure to run." "I think you behaved very bravely, Dexter," said Helen warmly; "and as I've scolded you sometimes, it is only fair that when I can I ought to praise. You were very brave indeed." "Tchah! that isn't being brave," said the boy, whose face was scarlet. "Why, anybody could scare a few bullocks." "Yes, but anybody would not," said Helen, smiling. "There, let's make haste home. I was very much frightened too." "Were you!" said Dexter, with wide open eyes. "Yes; weren't you?" "No," said Dexter; "there wasn't anything to be frightened about then. But I'm frightened now." "Indeed! What, now the danger is past?" "No, not about that." "What then, Dexter?" "Look at my new cap." He held up his drenched head-covering, all wet, muddy at the bottom, and out of shape. "'Tain't so bad as his chimney-pot hat, but it's awful, ain't it? What will he say?" "Papa? Only that you behaved exceedingly well, Dexter. He will be very pleased." "Think he will?" "Yes; and you shall have a new cap at once." "Let's make haste back, then," cried the boy eagerly, "for I'm as hungry as never was. But you're sure he won't be cross?" "Certain, Dexter. I will answer for that." "All right. Come along. I was afraid I was in for it again." _ |
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