Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Syd Belton: The Boy who would not go to Sea > This page
Syd Belton: The Boy who would not go to Sea, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 5 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ Chapter Five
"Your father!" The next minute, hand in hand, and keeping step, the two boys were running hard along the road leading away into the country, thinking of only one thing, and that--how great a distance they could put between them and the Heronry. Fear lent them wings, for in imagination they saw the old boatswain running off to the house, spreading the alarm, and Captain Belton ordering the servants out in pursuit, determined to hunt them down and bring them back to punishment. Their swift run, in spite of their will, soon settled down into a steady trot, and at the end of a couple of miles this had become a sharp walk. Every hair was wet with perspiration, and as they stopped from time to time to listen, their hearts beat heavily, and their breath came in a laboured way. "Hear anything?" said Sydney at last. "No; they've given it up," replied Pan. "Father can't run far now." "Think they'll get out the horses, Pan?" "Dunno. If they do we shall hear 'em plain enough, and we can take to the woods. They'll never ketch us now. Arn't you glad you've come?" Sydney did not answer, for if he had replied he would have told the truth, and he did not wish to tell the truth then, because it would have been humiliating. For there they were tramping along the dark road going west, with the stars shining down brightly, and, save the distant barking of a dog, all most mournfully still. Pan made another attempt at conversation. "Won't my father be wild because he arn't got me to hit?" Syd was too deep in his own thoughts to reply, for he was picturing the library at the Heronry, and his father and uncle talking together after returning from a vain pursuit. He could picture their florid faces and shining silvery hair by the light of the wax candles. He even seemed to see how many broad wrinkles there were in his father's forehead as he stood frowning; and then something seemed to be asking the boy what he was doing there. "Getting tired, Master Syd?" said Pan, after a long pause, filled by the _beat beat_ of their footsteps. But still there was no answer. The latter question took too much study, and suggested other questions in its unanswerable-ness. Where was he going? and why was he going? and why had he chosen this road, which led toward the great forest with its endless trees and bogs? Sydney could not answer these questions, and by way of relieving the buzzing worry in his own brain, he turned to Pan and became a questioner. "Where are we going to sleep to-night?" "Eh?" "Where are we going to sleep to-night?" Pan took off his hat and scratched his head. "I never thought of that," he said. "We can't go on walking all night." "Can't we?" "Of course we can't. We shall have to knock at some cottage, and ask them to give us a bed." "But they won't," said Pan, sagely enough. "'Tarn't likely at this time o' night; I wish we could find a haystack." Pan's wish did not obtain fulfilment, and the two lads tramped on along the lonely road for quite a couple of hours longer, when hunger began to combine with weariness; and these two at last made themselves so plainly heard, that Sydney came to a full stop. "Yes?" said Pan. "I did not speak, I was only thinking," said Sydney, drearily. "What were you thinking, Master Syd?" "That all this is very stupid, and that we should be ever so much more comfortable in bed." Pan sighed. "Oh, I dunno," he said. "I shouldn't, on'y my legs ache ever so." "We ought to have brought a lot of cold meat and bread with us, Pan." "Ah! wouldn't it be good now!" "How long do you think it will be before morning, so that we can get to a town, and buy some bread and milk?" "I dunno, Master Syd. It can't be late yet, and it's ever so far to a town this way, 'cause it's all forest for miles and miles." They were tramping on again now, but in a more irregular way. There was none of the vigorous pace for pace that had marked the beginning of their flight, and as the road grew more rough their steps began to err, and sometimes one, sometimes the other was a little in advance. "Don't you wish you were back in your bed, Pan?" said Sydney at last. "No." "Why not?" "Because father would be standing there with the rope's-end." This was so much to the point that Sydney did not try to pursue that vein of conversation, and they again travelled on in silence till Pan spoke-- "Wish you were back in your bed, Master Syd?" "No," said the latter sharply. "Course you don't; 'cause your uncle would be one side o' the bed and the captain the other, and that would be worse than being here, wouldn't it?" No answer. "You'd ketch it, wouldn't you, Master Syd?" Still no answer; and Pan plodded on in silence, wondering whether his young master would always be so quiet and strange. "What's that?" said Sydney suddenly. "Rabbud." The two lads stood listening to the rapid run of feet through the rustling fern, and then tramped on again through the darkness. Sydney was having a hard fight the greater part of the time with his thoughts, and try how he would, they seemed to be too much for him. In fact, so great a hold did they get at last, that somewhere about three o'clock he stopped short; but Pan went on with his head down till his name was sharply pronounced, when he stopped short with a start. "Why, I believe you were asleep." "Was I, Master Syd?" said the boy, blankly looking about him. "I s'pose 'twas because I thought father was making me walk round and round the garden all night for not cleaning the boots." "Turn round--this way." "Yes, Master Syd. Where are we going now?" "Back again." "Back--again?" "Yes, to the Heronry." "What for, sir?" "Because I've been an idiot." "But if we go back we shall be punished, Master Syd." "Of course we shall. But if we go on we shall be punishing ourselves. Oh," cried Sydney, in a voice full of rage against himself, "how could I have been such a donkey!" "It warn't my fault," said Pan, dolefully. "Father was after me with the rope's-end. I was obliged to go. Let's try another way, Master Syd." "There is no other way," cried the boy passionately. "There's only one way for us to go, and that's straight back home." "Oh, there's lots of other ways, Master Syd." "No, there are not. There's only one that we can tread." "Which way's that, sir?" "I told you--home." "But I dursen't go back, Master Syd; I dursen't, indeed." "Yes, you dare; and you shall too." "Well, not till it's light, Master Syd. It do hurt so in the dark, and you have no chance." But Syd did not answer, only gave an involuntary shiver, and walked slowly back over the ground they had covered during the night. _ |
||