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Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 34. An Awkward Pursuer |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. AN AWKWARD PURSUER It was wonderful how different the future looked after that picnic dinner by the river-side. The bread and butter were perfect, and the cray-fish as delicious as the choicest prawns. The water that glided past the bank was like crystal; the evening sun lit up the scene with orange and gold; and as the two boys lolled restfully upon the bank listening to the murmur of the running water, the twitter of birds, and the distant lowing of some ox, they thoroughly appreciated everything, even the rest after their tiring night's work and toilsome day. "Are we going on now!" said Dexter at last. "What for?" asked Bob, as he lay upon his back, with his head in a tuft of heath. "I don't know." "What's the good of going on? What's the good o' being in a hurry?" "I'm not in a hurry, only I should like to get to an island where there's plenty of fruit." "Ah, we shan't get to one to-day!" said Bob, yawning. Then there was silence; and Dexter lay back watching the beautiful river, and the brown boat as it swung easily by its chain. Soon a butterfly flitted by--a beautiful orange brown butterfly covered with dark spots, dancing here and there over the sylvan nook, and the next minute Dexter as he lay on his back felt cool, and began wondering while he looked straight up at the stars, fancying he had been called. He felt as if he had never seen so many stars before glittering in the dark purple sky, and he began wondering how it was that one minute he had been looking at that spotted butterfly, and the next at the stars. And then it dawned upon him that he must have been fast asleep for many hours, and if he had felt any doubt about this being the right solution of his position a low gurgling snore on his left told that Bob Dimsted was sleeping still. It was a novel and curious sensation that of waking up in the silence and darkness, with the leaves whispering, and that impression still upon him that he had been called. "It must have been old Dan'l," he had thought at first. "Perhaps he was in search of them," and he listened intently. Or it might have been the men who had come upon them where they had the first fire, and they had seen this one. "No, they couldn't see this one, for it was out." Dexter was about to conclude that it was all imagination, when, from far away in the wood he heard, in the most startling way:--_Hoi hoi_--_hoo hoo_! He started to his feet, and was about to waken Bob, when a great ghostly-looking bird came sweeping along the river, turned in at the nook quite low down, and then seemed to describe a curve, passing just over his head, and uttered a wild and piercing shriek that was appalling. Dexter's blood ran cold, as the cry seemed to thrill all down his spine, and in his horror he made a rush to run away anywhere from the terrible thing which had startled him. But his ill luck made him once more startle Bob from his slumbers, for, as he ran blindly to reach the shelter of the wood, he fell right over the sleeping boy, and went down headlong. "Here! I--oh, please sir, don't sir--don't sir,--it was that other boy, sir, it wasn't me, sir. It was--was--it was--why, what games are you up to now!" "Hush! Bob. Quick! Let's run." "Run!" said Bob excitedly, as the frightened boy clung to him. "I thought they'd come." "Yes, they're calling to one another in the wood," whispered Dexter excitedly; "and there was a horrid something flew up, and shrieked out." "Why, I heerd it, and dreamed it was you." "Come away--come away!" cried Dexter. "There, hark!" _Hoi hoi_--_hoi hoi_! came from not far away. "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Bob. "You are a one!" and putting his hands to his mouth, to Dexter's great astonishment he produced a very good imitation of the cry. "Why, you'll have them hear us and come," he whispered. "Yah! you are a coward! Why, it's an old howl." "Owl! calling like that!" "Yes, to be sure. I've heerd 'em lots o' times when I've been late fishing up the river." "But there was a big thing flew over my head, and it shrieked out." "That was a howl too. Some of 'em shouts, and some of 'em screeches. I say, I hope you've kept a heye on the boat!" "Are you sure that other was an owl too!" said Dexter excitedly. "Course I am. Think I've been out in the woods with father after the fezzans, and stopping out all night, without knowing a howl?" Dexter felt quite warm now. "I never heard one before, and it frightened me." "Yes, you're easily frightened," said Bob contemptuously. "You haven't been to sleep, have you!" "Yes, I have." "Then you oughtn't to have been. If you've been to sleep and let that boat go, I'll never forgive you." Bob had hardly uttered the words when Dexter, who had forgotten all about the boat, ran to the water's edge feeling sure that it was gone. But it was quite safe, and he went back to Bob. "What shall we do now!" he said. "Do?" said Bob, yawning. "You sit and keep watch while I go to sleep for a quarter of an hour. Then you may call me, and I'll take my turn." Bob curled himself up after the fashion of a dog, and went off to sleep directly, while, as Dexter, who felt chilly, began to walk up and down between the water's edge and the steep cliff-like bank, he could not help once more wishing that he was in his comfortable bed at the doctor's. He waited for long over a quarter of an hour, keeping his lonely watch, but Bob slept on and snored. At the end of about an hour and a half he thought it would only be fair to call his companion to take his turn, but he called in vain. Then he tried shaking, but only to elicit growls, and when he persevered Bob hit out so savagely that Dexter was fain to desist. "I'll let him sleep half an hour longer," he said to himself; and he walked to and fro to keep himself warm. It must have been after an hour that he called Bob again. "All right," said that worthy. "But it isn't all right," cried Dexter. "It ain't fair. Come: get up." "All right! I'll get up directly. Call me in about ten minutes." Dexter waited a little while, and called his companion. But in vain. And so it went on, with the sleeper sometimes apologetic, sometimes imploring, till it was broad daylight; and then Bob rose and shook himself. "I say, 'tain't fair," said Dexter ill-humouredly. "Well, why didn't you make me get up!" "I did try, lots of times." "But you didn't half try. You should have got me quite awake." "It's too bad, and I'm as sleepy as can be," grumbled Dexter. "Here! whatcher going to do?" cried Bob. "Lie down and sleep till breakfast-time." "Oh, are yer?" cried Bob. "We've got to go and catch our breakfasts." "What, now?" "To be sure. I'm getting hungry. Come along. I'll find a good place, and it's your turn now to get some cray-fish." "But I'm so cold and sleepy." "Well, that'll warm yer. There, don't look sulky." Bob got into the boat and unfastened the chain, so that there was nothing left for Dexter to do but follow; and they rowed away down the river, which was widening fast. The exercise and the rising sun sent warmth and brighter thoughts into Dexter, so that he was better able to undertake the task of searching the holes for cray-fish when the boat was brought up under a suitable bank, and urged on by Bob he had to undress and take an unwilling bath, and a breakfast-hunt at the same time. He was clumsy, and unaccustomed to the task, but driven by Bob's bullying tones, and helped by the fact that the little crustaceans were pretty plentiful, he managed to get a dozen and a half in about an hour. "There, come out, and dress now," said Bob ill-humouredly. "It's more trouble to tell you than to have got 'em myself. I'd ha' found twice as many in the time." Dexter shivered, and then began to enjoy the warmth of his garments after as good a wipe as he could manage with a pocket-handkerchief. But it was the row afterwards that gave the required warmth--a row which was continued till another farm-house was seen beside a great cider orchard. Here Dexter had to land with sixpence and the empty bottle. "I promised to take that there bottle back," said Bob, with a grin, "but I shan't now. Lookye here. You make 'em give you a good lot of bread and butter for the sixpence, and if they asks you any questions, you say we're two gentlemen out for a holiday." Dexter landed, and went up to the farm-house, through whose open door he could see a warm fire, and inhale a most appetising odour of cooking bacon and hot coffee. A pleasant-faced woman came to the door, and her ways and looks were the first cheery incidents of Dexter's trip. "Sixpennyworth of bread and butter, and some milk?" she said. "Yes, of course." She prepared a liberal exchange for Dexter's coin, and then after filling the bottle put the boy's chivalry to the test. "Why, you look as if you wanted your breakfast," she said. "Have a cup of warm coffee?" Dexter's eyes brightened, and he was about to say _yes_. But he said _no_, for it seemed unfair to live better than his comrade, and just then the vision of Bob Dimsted looking very jealous and ill-humoured rose before him. "I'm in a hurry to get back," he said. The woman nodded, and Dexter hastened back to the water-side. "I was just a-going without yer," was his greeting. "What a while you've been!" "I was as quick as I could be," said Dexter apologetically. "No, you weren't, and don't give me none of your sarce," said Bob. "Kitch holt o' that scull and pull. D'yer hear!" Dexter obeyed, and they rowed on for about a mile before a suitable place was found for landing and lighting a fire, when, after a good deal of ogreish grumbling, consequent upon Bob wanting his breakfast, a similar meal to that of the previous day was eaten, and they started once more on their journey down-stream to the sea, and the golden land which would recompense Dexter, as he told himself, for all this discomfort, the rough brutality of his companion, and the prickings of conscience which he felt whenever Coleby occurred to his mind, and the face of Helen looked reproach into the very depth of his inner consciousness. All that morning, when they again started, he found the river widen and change. Instead of being clear, and the stones visible at the bottom, the banks were further away, so were the hills, and the water was muddy. What was more strange to Dexter was that instead of the stream carrying them along it came to meet them. At last Bob decided that they would moor by the bank, and begin once more to fish. They landed and got some worms, and for a time had very fair sport, taking it in turns to catch some small rounded silvery and creamy transparent fish, something like dace, but what they were even Bob did not know. He was never at a loss, however, and he christened them sea-gudgeon. Dexter was just landing one when a sour-looking man in a shabby old paintless boat came by close to the shore, and looked at them searchingly. But he looked harder at the boat as he went by, turned in, as it seemed, and rowed right into the land. "There must be a little river there," Bob said. "We'll look presently. I say, didn't he stare!" Almost as he spoke the man came out again into the tidal river and rowed away, went up some distance, and they had almost forgotten him when they saw him come slowly along, close inshore. "Bob," whispered Dexter, "he's after us." To which Bob responded with a contemptuous-- "Yah!" "Much sport?" said the man, passing abreast of their boat about half a dozen yards away, and keeping that by dipping his oars from time to time. "Pretty fair," said Bob, taking the rod. "'Bout a dozen." "What fish are they!" said Dexter eagerly, and he held up one. "Smelts," said the man, with a peculiar look. "Come fishing?" "Yes," said Bob sharply. "We've come for a day or two's fishing." "That's right," said the man, with a smile that was a little less pleasant than his scowl. "I'm a fisherman too." "Oh, are yer?" said Bob. "Yes, that's what I am." "He ain't after us," whispered Bob. "It's all right." Dexter did not feel as if it was. He had an innate dislike to the man, who looked furtive and underhanded. "Got a tidy boat there," said the man at last. "Yes, she's a good un to go along," said Bob. "Wouldn't sell her, I s'pose!" said the man. "What should we sell her for?" said Bob, hooking and landing a fish coolly enough. "I d'know. Thought you might want to part with her," said the man. "I wouldn't mind giving fifteen shillings for a boat like that." "Yah!" cried Bob mockingly. "Why, she's worth thirty at least." "Bob!" whispered Dexter excitedly. "You mustn't sell her." "You hold your tongue." "I wouldn't give thirty shillings for her," said the man, coming close now and mooring his own crazy craft by holding on to the gunwale of the gig. "She's too old." "That she ain't," cried Bob. "Why, she's nearly new." "Not she. Only been varnished up, that's all. I'll give you a pound for her." "No," said Bob, to Dexter's great relief. "I'll give you a pound for her, and my old 'un chucked in," said the man. "It's more than she's worth, but I know a man who wants such a boat as that." "You mustn't sell her, Bob," whispered Dexter, who was now in agony. "You hold your row. I know what I'm a-doing of." "Look here," said the man, "I'm going a little farder, and I'll fetch the money, and then if you like to take it we'll trade. It's more'n she's worth, though, and you'd get my little boat in, as is as good a boat as ever swum." He pushed off and rowed away, while, as soon as he was out of sight, Dexter attacked his companion with vigour. "We mustn't sell her, Bob," he said. "Why not? She's our'n now." "No, she isn't; and we've promised to take her back." "Look here!" said Bob, "have you got any money?" "No, but we shan't want any as soon as we get to the island." "Yes, we shall, and a pound would be no end of good." "But we would have to give up our voyage." "No, we shouldn't. We'd make his boat do." "But it's such a shabby one. We mustn't sell the boat, Bob." "Look here! I'm captain, and I shall do as I like." "Then I shall tell the man the boat isn't ours." "If you do I'll knock your eye out. See if I don't," cried Bob fiercely. Dexter felt hot, and his fists clenched involuntarily, but he sat very still. "If I like to sell the boat I shall. We want the money, and the other boat will do." "I say it won't," said Dexter sharply. "Why, hullo!" cried Bob, laughing. "Here's cheek." "I don't care, it would be stealing Sir James's boat, and I say it shan't be done." "Oh, yer do--do yer!" said Bob, in a bullying tone. "You won't be happy till I've given you such a licking as'll make yer teeth ache. Now, just you hold your row, and wait till I gets yer ashore, and you shall have it. I'd give it to yer now, only I should knock yer overboard and drown'd yer, and I don't want to do that the first time." Bob went on fishing, and Dexter sat biting his lip, and feeling as he used to feel when he had had a caning for something he had not done. "I shall do just as I please," said Bob, giving his head a waggle, as if to show his authority. "So you've got to sit still and look on. And if you says anything about where the boat came from, I shall tell the man you took it." "And, if you do, I shall tell him it's a lie," cried Dexter, as fiercely as his companion; and just then he saw the man coming back. _ |
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