Dick o' the Fens Part 12

Then his jaws stopped, and it was evident that he scented something, for he raised his head slightly. Then he swung one great ear round, and then brought up the other with a sharp swing till they were both c.o.c.ked forward and he listened attentively.

A minute before, and he was a very statue of a donkey, but after a few moments' attentive listening he suddenly became full of action, and setting up his tail he trotted round the yard over the rotten peat and ling that had been cut and tossed in, to be well trampled before mixing with straw and ploughing into the ground. He changed his pace to a gallop, and then, still growing more excited, he made straight for the rough gate so as to escape.

But the gate was fastened, though not so securely but that it entered into a donkey's brain that he might undo that fastening, as he had often undone it before, and then deliberately walked off into the fen, where succulent thistles grew.

This time, however, in spite of the earnest way in which he applied his teeth, he could not get that fastening undone; and, after striking at it viciously with his unshod hoof, he reared up, as if to leap over, but contented himself with resting his fore-legs on the rough top rail, and looking over at the free land he could not reach; and he was in this att.i.tude when the two lads came up.

"Hullo, Solomon!" cried d.i.c.k. "Poor old fellow, then! Did you know we'd come for you?"

The donkey uttered a discordant bray which sounded like the blowing badly of a trumpet of defiance, and backing away, he trotted to the far end of the yard, and thrust his head into a corner.

"Where's the harness?" said Tom.

"In the stone barn," was the reply; and together the lads fetched the rough harness of old leather and rope, with an extra piece for fastening about the root.

"I say, d.i.c.k, he won't kick that root to pieces like he did the little tumbril," said Tom, who for convenience had placed the collar over his own head.

"Nor yet knock one side off like he did with the sled," replied d.i.c.k with a very vivid recollection of one of Solomon's feats. "Now, then, open the gate and let's pop the harness on. Stop a minute till I get a stick."

"Get a thick one," said Tom.

"Pooh! he don't mind a thick stick; he rather likes it. Hicky says it loosens his skin and makes him feel comfortable. Here, this will do.

Must have a long one because of his heels."

"Oh, I say, d.i.c.k, look at the old rascal; he's laughing at us!"

It really seemed as if this were the case, for as the lads entered the yard Solomon lowered his head still more in its corner, and looked at them between his legs, baring his gums the while and showing his white teeth.

"Ah, I'll make him laugh--_gimble_, as old Dave calls it--if he gives us any of his nonsense! Now, you, sir, come out of that corner. Give me the collar, Tom."

As d.i.c.k relieved his friend of the collar, and held it ready to put over the donkey's head, though they were at least a dozen yards away, Solomon began to kick, throwing out his heels with tremendous force and then stamping with his fore-feet.

"Isn't he a pretty creature, Tom? He grows worse. Father won't sell him, because, he says, he's an old friend. He has always been my enemy."

"You always whacked him so," cried Tom.

"No, I didn't; I never touched him till he began it. Of course I wanted to ride him and make him pull the sled, and you know how he ran after me and bit me on the back."

"Yes, I know that somebody must have ill-used him first."

"I tell you they didn't. He's always been petted and spoiled. Why, that day when he kicked me and sent me flying into the straw I'd gone to give him some carrots."

"But didn't you tickle him or something?"

"No, I tell you. A nasty ungrateful brute! I've given him apples and turnips and bread; one Christmas I gave him a lump of cake; but no matter what you do, the worse he is. He's a natural savage, father says; and it isn't safe to go near him without a stick."

"Well, you've told me all that a dozen times," said Tom maliciously.

"It's only an excuse for ill-using the poor thing."

"Say that again and I'll hit you," cried d.i.c.k.

"No, you won't. Here, give me the harness again and I'll put it on, only keep back with that stick. That's what makes him vicious."

"How clever we are!" cried d.i.c.k, handing back the collar. "There: go and try."

"Ah, I'll show you!" said Tom, taking the collar with its hames and traces attached, and going up toward the donkey, while d.i.c.k stood back, laughing.

"Take care, Tom; mind he don't bite!"

"He can't bite with his hind-legs, can he?" replied Tom. "I'll mind.

Now, then, old fellow, turn round; I won't hurt you."

Solomon raised his tail to a horizontal position and held it out stiffly.

"Don't be a stupid," cried Tom; "I want your head, not your tail."

d.i.c.k burst into a roar of laughter, but Tom was not going to be beaten.

"You leave off laughing," he said, "and go farther back with that stick.

That's right. Now, then, old boy, come on; turn round then."

_Whack_!

Poor Tom went backwards and came down a couple of yards away in a sitting position, with the collar in his lap and an astonished look in his countenance.

"Oh, I am sorry, Tom!" cried d.i.c.k, running up. "You, Solomon, I'll half kill you. Are you hurt, Tom?"

"I don't know yet," said the lad, struggling up.

"Where did he kick you?" cried d.i.c.k, full of sympathy now for his friend.

"He didn't kick me at all," said Tom dolefully. "I was holding the collar right out and he kicked that, but it hit me bang in the front and hurt ever so."

"Let me take the harness; I'll get it on him."

"No, I won't," cried Tom viciously. "I will do it now. Here, give me that stick."

"Why, I thought you said I ill-used him!"

"And I'll ill-use him too," said Tom savagely, "if he doesn't come and have on his collar. Now, then, you, sir, come here," cried Tom sharply.

By this time the donkey had trotted to another corner of the yard, where he stood with his heels presented to his pursuers, and as first one and then the other made a dash at his head he slewed himself round and kicked out fiercely.

"This is a nice game," cried d.i.c.k at last, when they were both getting hot with the exercise of hunting the animal from corner to corner, and then leaping backward or sidewise to avoid his heels, "Now, just you tell me this, who could help walloping such a brute? Hold still will you!"

But Solomon--a name, by the way, which was given him originally from its resemblance to "Solemn-un," the latter having been applied to him by Hickathrift--refused to hold still. In fact he grew more energetic and playful every minute, cantering round the yard and dodging his pursuers in a way which would have done credit to a well-bred pony, and the chances of getting the collar on or bit into his mouth grew more and more remote.

"I tell you what let's do," cried d.i.c.k at last; "I'm not going to run myself off my legs to please him. I've got it!"