Dick and Brownie Part 2

"I don't know," sighed Huldah, wistfully. "I hadn't thought of anywhere perticler. I daresay there's a rick or a hedge we can lay down under. I don't mind where I go, so long as Uncle Tom don't find us."

"Well, I can't give you a bed here. I've only this room and my bedroom, and--and--" Mrs. Perry did not like to explain that she was too nervous, and too doubtful of Huldah's honesty to leave her alone in the kitchen, while she herself went to bed and to sleep.

To her mind all gipsies, and all gipsy children, were thieves, and though she was interested in Huldah, and felt very sorry for her, she had, after all, only known her about an hour, and knew nothing of her past history. In her heart she could not as yet believe all her story, or bring herself to trust her.

The child instinctively felt something of this distrust, and it hurt her. Her eyes filled, but she forced back the tears, and spoke out bravely.

"I shall do all right, thank you, ma'am. We'll be going on again, now. I ain't afraid of nothing when I've got d.i.c.k with me, and--and thank you, ma'am, for all you've given us; but I wish you'd 'ave one of my baskets, ma'am, please! I can easy make another, and I'd be glad if you would, please, ma'am."

Mrs. Perry felt a p.r.i.c.k of conscience, and her heart melted.

She could see that the child's feelings were hurt, and that her self-respect made her anxious to pay for all they had received.

"If you wouldn't mind sleeping in the barn in the garden, you and your dog, you're welcome. It's as clean as can be, and there's plenty of nice straw there, to make a comfortable bed for you.

You'd be under shelter there, and if so be as your uncle should come this way, he'd never find you there."

Instead of conferring a favour, she found herself almost asking the child to stay, and to Huldah the temptation was too great to be resisted. To be safe from her uncle! She felt she could bear anything, if she could only for a few hours feel quite safe.

She was so tired, too, so dead-tired, she did not know, in spite of her brave words, how she could possibly drag her weary body a step further.

A few moments later the front-door had been securely bolted, and Mrs.

Perry, lantern in hand, was conducting her two strange visitors out of the back door and down the garden.

"That's the fowls' house," she explained, flashing her lantern over the door of the little building as they pa.s.sed it, "and here is the barn."

She opened the door, and threw the lantern light all over the wooden shed. It was spotlessly clean, and sweet with the smell of the straw which was scattered about one end of it. There were some bundles and some loose straw lying on the ground. Huldah sank down on one of the bundles with a little cry of relief, while d.i.c.k burrowed delightedly in the loose straw.

"You won't be afraid, you think?"

"No, ma'am, thank you, not with d.i.c.k," she answered, bravely.

She did not feel quite so brave, though, when the light had gone, and she heard the house-door bolted, and found herself and d.i.c.k shut in alone in the dark in that great empty strange place. She did wish that Mrs. Perry had seen fit to leave them the lantern. Rats loved straw, Huldah knew, so did mice, and she was dreadfully afraid of both. The moonlight shone in through the sides of the barn, and Huldah had a feeling that eyes were at all the c.h.i.n.ks, watching her.

To try to forget the rats and mice and not to see the eyes, she nestled down in the straw, with one bundle at her head and another at her back, and hoped she would soon fall asleep and forget everything.

But though she was so tired, or, perhaps, because she was overtired, sleep when it did come was not sound or pleasant. Every time d.i.c.k rustled the straw, she awoke. Every time a bird called or an owl hooted, she started up wide awake. She woke once from a dream of her uncle, with, as she thought, his voice echoing in her ear.

Another time she felt certain he was banging at the barn door, trying to get in, to beat her and d.i.c.k, and take them both back.

"Oh, I wish it was morning!" she sighed, and sat up on her straw bed, to see if daylight was beginning to dawn yet.

But all was dark still; even the moon had gone. She was just about to lie wearily down again, when a real, not a dream sound, caught her ear. The sound of nailed boots on stones, and stealthy footsteps.

"It really is someone climbing the wall and coming up the garden,"

she thought to herself, and her mouth and throat grew dry with terror, and her heart beat suffocatingly. "d.i.c.k!" she gasped, in a low voice. "d.i.c.k, they're coming, they've found us. Listen!"

d.i.c.k raised himself on his haunches, with his ears c.o.c.ked. Huldah was seized with sudden fear that he would growl, and so betray their hiding-place, for her uncle would recognise d.i.c.k's growl in a moment.

She laid her hand on his collar firmly. "Quiet!" she commanded, firmly, and knew that he would obey. She tried to peer out through the c.h.i.n.ks, but it was hard to move without rustling the straw, and all without was black as pitch.

Then suddenly, quite close to her on the other side of the planking, sounded a whisper, and Huldah never knew afterwards whether she was most frightened or relieved--frightened by the nearness of somebody, or relieved that the somebody was not her "uncle."

"Bill, where's the sack?" the voice asked, impatiently.

"I dunno!" answered another voice, sourly. "You had it. I've cut my knee on that there wall; I can feel the blood running down my leg."

"You always manages to do something," was all the sympathy Bill got.

"We've got to 'ave the sack, so you'd better find it. How're we to carry the birds without it? In our hats?"

"It's the fowls!" thought Huldah, thrilling with excitement.

"They're going to steal the fowls. Oh, they shan't! The lady'll think it's me. Oh, what can I do? How can I tell her? I _must_ stop them, somehow!"

Bill had gone back in search of the sack, and the other thief stood waiting for him. Huldah had time to think, but no plan came to her.

She did not know her way, nor where to turn for help; and if she screamed, they would only find her out, and knock her about.

They would steal the fowls all the same. A slight movement beside her recalled her thoughts, and sent her spirits up with a bound.

"d.i.c.k! why, of course d.i.c.k would help her!"

Quick as thought she crept to the door, and with one hand on d.i.c.k's collar she gently raised the latch with the other. Bill had evidently found the sack, for the thieves were together again; she heard them whispering. One even seemed to be already fumbling with the latch of the fowls' house door.

"Quick, d.i.c.k, catch them!" she whispered, excitedly. "Go for them, d.i.c.k! bring them down!" With one fierce yelp d.i.c.k was out of her grasp and out of her sight.

It had all happened so swiftly that the thieves were bewildered, dazed, and frightened almost beyond power of speech or movement.

They had heard nothing, and certainly had expected nothing, yet suddenly, from somewhere quite near by, came a voice, and out of the darkness came a large dog bounding upon them, growling savagely.

For a second they were too frightened to move; then, with an oath, they dashed across the garden, making for the wall they had come over. Fast though they went, d.i.c.k was after them and on them, and Bob, as well as Bill, knew what it was to feel blood trickling down his leg. Bob yelled, Bill groaned, d.i.c.k growled and snarled and barked furiously with excitement. The frightened hens, startled by the hubbub, added their share to the uproar.

In the cottage a curtain was drawn back quickly from a window, and a white frightened face stared out. Huldah caught sight of it, and coming out of the shelter of the barn, raced eagerly along the path to the house.

"It's all right," she cried, panting. "It's all right, ma'am, some fellows come stealing your fowls, but d.i.c.k's after them."

d.i.c.k was after them, but he could not capture them; he was but a young dog, and the enemy was two to one. A heavy kick sent him rolling over, just as the thieves reached the wall, and before he could pick himself up again they were over it, and making good their escape.

At the sound of d.i.c.k's cry Huldah went flying back to the spot whence the sound came. "Oh, d.i.c.k, d.i.c.k, what have they done!" she cried, terrified.

d.i.c.k, though, was not one to make a fuss about anything. Kicks he was well accustomed to. Men, according to his experience, were given to kicking. Limping heavily, but mightily pleased with his fray, he came running up to her. Huldah knelt down in the path beside him, and hugged him to her. "Oh, d.i.c.k!" she cried, anxiously, pa.s.sing her little hand over him to feel for any hurt. "Poor d.i.c.k, you are always getting knocked about by somebody!"

But d.i.c.k was far less concerned than she was. All that really troubled him was that his enemies had escaped him, and had got off so lightly.

"Huldah! Huldah!" called a frightened voice from the doorway.

"Whatever is happening? Oh, do come in, child, and bring d.i.c.k.

I am terrified to be left alone! Come in, both of you, and shut the door;" and at the sound of her voice d.i.c.k gave up his frantic search for his enemies, and limped quickly back. When the lady who gave him the ham-bone called, she must never be kept waiting!

CHAPTER III.

WHAT THE MORNING BROUGHT.

It was a very shaken, tremulous trio which stood and faced each other in the tiny kitchen, after they had locked and bolted the door.

d.i.c.k trembled with excitement and eagerness only, but Mrs. Perry was really frightened.

"But what of my poor hens!" she gasped, as Huldah poured out the adventures of the night. "Will the thieves come back again?

What can I do? There's twelve of them; I can't bring them all indoors, and yet--oh, poor dears, and they so tame, and knowing me so well. I'd sooner see them all dead than in the hands of such men; and they'll be so frightened."

"They're all safe enough, ma'am," said Huldah, consolingly.