Chatterbox, 1905 Part 15

Still, it was not possible to stay where I was all day, so reluctantly turning my back on the stone-breakers, I walked on, trying to hope that, after all, the tramp might be perfectly harmless in spite of his evil appearance. Though strongly tempted to look behind and ascertain whether he was following or not, I warned myself that it would be wiser to appear to take no notice, till, at last, when the stone-breakers must have been half a mile to the rear, I looked back, and saw, to my horror, that the tramp was still d.o.g.g.i.ng my steps.

CHAPTER VI.

Half panic-stricken for the moment, I quickened my pace; but when I looked behind again ten minutes later, it appeared that the tramp had lessened the distance between us.

It now began to seem like a nightmare. There was no prospect of getting away from my pursuer. If I hastened, he walked faster, and I no longer felt the least doubt that his intention was to rob me. Although the road was little frequented, it was by no means deserted. An occasional bicyclist would pa.s.s, or a waggon, or a dog-cart, while here and there stood farm-houses and cottages by the way-side.

I believed that the tramp would dog my steps until dark, and that in the meantime he would not allow me out of his sight. Yet, until the present, I had no actual cause for complaint, and when I met a policeman, there seemed no excuse for referring to the tramp's existence. Feeling bound to speak to the policeman, however, I stopped to inquire the time, and he eyed me curiously as he took out his watch. My clothes were by this time covered with dust, and no doubt I appeared a disreputable figure.

'Five past five,' said the policeman. I must have slept in the wood longer than I had thought.

'Thank you,' I answered, and he pa.s.sed on, greatly to my regret.

The finger-posts told me that a place named Polehampton lay ahead, but I would not inquire the distance, and so tell the policeman that I did not know much about my destination. But when I fancied he must be close to the tramp, I looked back, just in time to see them exchange a nod in pa.s.sing.

Every time I looked behind after this, my pursuer appeared to be gaining, although he took care not to overtake me. He could easily have done so had he wished, because I was becoming extremely tired, the more, no doubt, because of the fear which oppressed me. As this gained strength, I did the worst thing possible--playing, as it were, into the tramp's hands if his purpose was what I suspected. But this walk along the straight, open road as evening fell became gradually more and more unbearable. I even began to ask myself whether it could be actually a nightmare, and I should presently awake to find myself in bed at Ascot House, scarcely knowing which would be preferable.

Seeing a stile leading to a field-path on my right, I suddenly determined to climb over it, and though I had no notion whither it lead, to take to my heels, regardless of everything but the chance of leaving the tramp behind. In a second I was over, and, doubling my fists, began to run.

There were some cattle in the field, and the path appeared to end at another stile, beyond which was a plantation of chestnut-trees. To the left, beyond a hedge, lay a large plot of waste ground; to the right, a dense wood, where I could hear some pigeons cooing.

I did not stay to look back until I reached the farther stile, a good deal out of breath, and then, to my intense relief, I saw n.o.body in the path. I persuaded myself that the tramp must have reached the first stile before now, and that, as there was no sign of him, he had gone on his way. Perhaps, I thought, as I climbed over the second stile, I had wronged the man after all, and had simply been the prey of my own timidity. Resting on the top of the stile a moment, I began to look around. In front was a narrow path through the chestnut plantation, and it must lead somewhere, though I knew not where. But I determined to follow it, thus making a slight divergence from the main road, and finding a way back to it to-morrow. Meantime, I might come to a village, where it would be possible to obtain some supper and a bed. So, rejoicing to have shaken off my nightmare, I sprang to the ground on the other side of the stile, when immediately I felt a hand on my collar, and saw the dark eyes of the tramp once more peering into my own.

He had, of course, dived into the wood when he saw me climb over the first stile, and, cutting off the corner, had been coolly awaiting my arrival. On the whole, I think that being in his grasp was almost preferable to the feeling that he was d.o.g.g.i.ng my steps. His left hand gripped the collar of my jacket and flannel shirt, and instantly I began to wriggle, twisting my leg about his own in an attempt to bring him to the ground; but the man was of enormous strength, and, freeing himself, he shook me as a terrier shakes a rat, until I felt there was little breath left in my body.

Yet I did not give in without another struggle. I knew that he would take every penny I possessed, and that there was nothing else on which to raise any money. I was still nearly ninety miles from London, and already ready for another meal. I b.u.t.ted my head into his stomach, I struck out madly with my fists, I writhed and kicked, until, raising his right arm, he brought down his fist on my head, and after that I knew nothing for some time.

When I regained consciousness, I lay in the plantation about two yards from the path, just where I had been flung, I suppose. My head and body seemed to ache all over, but, on attempting to rise to my feet, I found no difficulty, beyond a slight giddiness. My bag had disappeared, my knickerbocker pocket, which had contained my total capital of fourteen shillings and eightpence, was sticking out empty, and, of course, there was no sign of the tramp. Walking to the stile, I found that my left ankle pained me, although not very severely; I could also see in the lessening light that my clothes were considerably torn.

So hopeless appeared the outlook that I confess I rested my arms on the top of the stile, buried my face on them and sobbed, until the increasing darkness warned me that crying would not provide a bed for the night. A bed for the night! But how could I obtain a bed without money? Still, it was not practicable to remain where I was, while I thought it would be better to take my chance through the plantation than to return to the road, where I might even meet the tramp again.

Certainly, whichever direction I followed, I had no wish to walk very far. I had never felt quite so worn out in my life, as I continued my way through the plantation and a field beyond, the gate of which opened into a pleasant country lane. Here I turned to the right, as the main road lay to the left, and I had not walked many yards before I reached a pretty farm-house, standing well back, with a barn on its left, in which some cows were lowing. The sky was by this time of a dark blue, and one small star twinkled. I could not help looking rather longingly at the cosy house, and, while I looked, a lamp was carried into one of the front rooms and a red blind was drawn down. However, it was no use lingering there, so I walked on beside a hedge, fragrant with honeysuckle, past one or two fields, until I came to a black gate with something shadowy behind it. Stopping by the gate, I saw that the object in the field was part of a haystack, one side being cut into a kind of terrace. Four black calves came to the gate, but they turned tail and trotted away again as I put my leg over the top rail, for I at once made up my mind that there would be no better place to sleep than the haystack. The night was fine and hot, and my body ached to such a degree that I felt I could sleep anywhere.

(_Continued on page 54._)

TAKE CARE OF THE DAYS.

The little days come, one by one, And smile into our face; Each hath its dawn and set of sun, Each hath its little place.

Then scorn them not, but use them well, Treat each one as a friend; Neglect them not! We cannot tell How soon our days may end.

Heed not the years! Make _every day_ With love and labour fair; The years, then, as they roll away, Will need no further care.

E. D.

THE CAPTAIN'S TURN FIRST.

The captain of a merchant ship, on being appointed to a new vessel, heard that his crew had a very bad name for the use of oaths. He determined to put an end to bad language on his ship, and, knowing how hard it would be to do so by the mere exercise of authority, thought of a novel plan which was entirely successful. He summoned the men and addressed them thus:

'I want to ask you all a favour, and I know that British sailors will hardly refuse a favour to their new captain. It is my duty to take the lead in everything, and especially in one thing. Now, will you grant me my favour?'

'Aye, aye, sir,' said the men, not knowing what he would ask.

'It is this, then. I want to take the lead in swearing, and to use the first oath on board this ship, before any of you begin to swear.'

The men were at first surprised at the strange request, but they soon recovered and gave the captain a rousing cheer. Needless to say, the captain's oath was never uttered, and so the men had no excuse for swearing.

SAVED BY TWENTY GUINEAS.

Thanks to his quickness of brain and fleetness of foot, M. de B----, a French Royalist officer, was able to use a well-known device and so effect an escape from imminent death.

On a certain memorable morning, sixty-nine brave soldiers were executed by the Republicans. The story of these deaths, and of one remarkable escape, is related by a fellow-prisoner who witnessed the scene.

At nine o'clock in the morning the prisoners were startled by the entrance of a Republican officer, who held a piece of paper in his hand, and was attended by an escort of about twenty soldiers. As he came in he announced:

'Citizens! you are to accompany me. Those whose names I shall call will not return to this place. As I read out the roll, let each one named range himself on the right-hand side.'

The men obeyed this order in silence; no one knew what it meant, and all feared the worst. Only two names were excepted from the roll; the other prisoners, seventy in number, stood in line, awaiting their unknown fate.

'The word was given to march,' says the narrator, 'and the whole seventy-two of us, guarded by a large number of Republican soldiers, filed out from the gloomy gaol. We were taken to the seash.o.r.e, where a halt was made; then the officer in charge read the death-sentence, adding, as he turned to us--the two whose names were excepted from the fatal list--these words:

'"These others will not be sentenced until further evidence has been heard, but they will be present at the execution of those condemned."

'The unhappy men were then and there shot, one by one. This work of horror went on for an hour, and we, whose time had not yet come, were forced to stand by, fully expecting that the same fate would shortly be our own.

'Sixty-nine had fallen, and at last came the turn of De B----. The four men told off to shoot him said, "We are extremely sorry to do this, but it is the law, and we cannot help ourselves; and now, if you have any money about you, please bestow it upon us."

'A happy thought flashed through the Royalist's brain. "I have twenty guineas," he replied calmly, "but I do not desire to cause any jealousy amongst you. I will therefore fling down the coins, and let each one get what he can."

'With a dexterous movement of his hand he sent the golden coins spinning in all directions. The soldiers, in their greedy eagerness, forgot the prisoner for a moment, and scrambled for the money; this was what M. de B---- had reckoned on. As he was an excellent runner, taking to his heels, he promptly fled, got safely away, and was never recaptured.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The soldiers forgot the prisoner, and scrambled for the money."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Fight against my country! Not for the ransom of a king!'"]