Dick o' the Fens Part 54

For though a boy--a hearty boy in his teens--living say anywhere, can, as a rule, eat, in the exception of boys of the old fen-land, where the eastern breezes blow right off the German Ocean, they were troubled with an appet.i.te which was startling, and might have been condemned but for the fact that it resulted in their growing into magnificent specimens of humanity, six feet high not being considered particularly tall.

It was quite late when the boys reached the Toft, to find the squire standing outside smoking his pipe and waiting for them.

"Where have you been, lads?" he said; and on being told, he uttered a good-humoured grunt, and laying his hand upon Tom's shoulder, "Here," he said, "you'd better stop with d.i.c.k to-night. They won't be uneasy at home?"

"No, sir," said Tom naively; "I told father perhaps I should stay."

"Oh, you did, eh!" said the squire. "Well, you're welcome. If you don't want any supper, you'd better be off to bed."

Both lads declared that they did not want any supper, but Mrs Winthorpe had made certain preparations for them which they could not resist, and something very like a second meal was eaten before they retired for the night.

As a rule, when one boy has a visitor for bed-fellow, it is some time before there is peace in that room. Set aside unruly demonstrations whose effects are broken pillowcase strings, ruptured bolsters, and loose feathers about the carpet, if nothing worse has happened in the way of broken jugs and basins, there is always something else to say at the end of the long conversation upon the past day's occurrences or the morrow's plans.

But in this instance it was doubtful whether d.i.c.k fell asleep in the act of getting into bed, or whether Tom was nodding as he undressed; suffice it that the moment their heads touched pillows they were fast asleep, and the big beetle which flew in at the open window and circled about the room had it all to himself. Now he ground his head against the ceiling, then he rasped his wings against the wall, then he buzzed in one corner, burred in another, and banged himself up against the white dimity curtains, till, seeing what appeared to be a gleam of light in the looking-gla.s.s, he swept by the open window, out of which he could easily have pa.s.sed, and struck himself so heavily against the mirror that he fell on the floor with a pat, and probably a dint in his steely blue armour.

Then came a huge moth, and almost simultaneously a bat, to whirr round and round over the bed and along the ceiling, while from off the dark waters of the fen came from time to time strange splashings and uncouth cries, which would have startled a wakeful stranger to these parts. Now and then a peculiar moan would be heard, then what sounded like a dismal, distant roaring, followed by the cackling of ducks, and plaintive whistlings of ox-birds, oyster-catchers, and sandpipers, all of which seemed to be very busy hunting food in the soft stillness of the dewy night.

But neither splash nor cry awakened the sleepers, who were, like Barney O'Reardon, after keeping awake for a week; when they went to sleep they paid "attintion to it," and the night wore on till it must have been one o'clock.

The bat and the moth had managed to find their way out of the open window at last, and perhaps out of malice had told another bat and another moth that it was a delightful place in there. At all events another couple were careering about, the moth noisily brushing its wings against wall and ceiling, the bat silently on its fine soft leather wings, but uttering a fine squeak now and then, so thin, and sharp, and shrill that, compared to other squeaks, it was as the point of a fine needle is to that of a tenpenny nail.

The beetle had got over the stunning blow it had received, to some extent, and had carefully folded up and put away its gauzy wings beneath their hard h.o.r.n.y cases, deeming that he would be better off and safer if he walked for the rest of the night, and after a good deal of awkward progression he came to the side of the bed.

It was a hot night, and some of the clothes had been kicked off, so that the counterpane on Tom's side touched the floor. In contact with this piece of drapery the beetle came, and began to crawl up, taking his time pretty well, and finally reaching the bed.

Here he turned to the left and progressed slowly till he reached the pillow, which he climbed, and in a few more moments found himself in front of a cavern in a forest--a curiously designed cavern, with a cosy hole in connection with certain labyrinths.

This hole seemed just of a size to suit the beetle's purpose, and he proceeded to enter for the purpose of snuggling up and taking a good long nap to ease the dull aching he probably felt in his bruised head.

But, soundly as Tom Tallington slept, the scriggly legs of a beetle were rather too much when they began to work in his ear, and he started up and brushed the creature away, the investigating insect falling on the floor with a sharp rap.

Tom sat listening to the sounds which came through the window and heard the splashing of water in the distance, and the pipings and quackings of the wild-fowl; but as he leaned forward intently and looked through the open window at the starry sky, there were other noises he heard which made him think of sundry occasions at home when he had been awakened by similar sounds.

After a few moments he lay down again, but started up directly, got out of bed, and went to the window to listen.

The next minute he was back at the bed-side.

"d.i.c.k," he whispered, shaking him; "d.i.c.k!"

"What is it?"

"There's something wrong with the horses."

"Nonsense!"

"There is, I tell you. Sit up and listen."

"Oh, I say, what a nuisance you are! I was having such a dream!"

d.i.c.k sat up and listened, and certainly a sound came from the yard.

He jumped out of bed and went with Tom to the open window, but all was perfectly still round the house, and he was about to return to bed when a dim shadowy-looking creature flew silently across the yard.

d.i.c.k uttered a peculiar squeak which was so exactly like that of a mouse that the bird curved round in its flight, came rapidly up toward the window, and hovered there with extended claws, and its great eyes staring from its full round face.

The next moment it was flying silently away, but another shrill squeak brought it back to hover before them, staring in wonder, till, apparently divining that it was being imposed upon, it swooped away.

"What a big owl!" said Tom in a whisper. "There! Hear that?"

d.i.c.k did hear _that_! A low whinnying noise, and the blow given by a horse's hoof, as if it had stamped impatiently while in pain.

Directly after there was a mournful lowing from the direction of the cow-house, followed by an angry bellow.

"That's old Billy," said d.i.c.k. "What's the matter with the things!

It's a hot night, and some kind of flies are worrying them. Here, let's get to bed."

He was moving in the direction of the bed; but just then there was another louder whinnying from the lodge where the cart-horses were kept, and a series of angry stamps, followed by a bellow from the bull.

"There is something wrong with the beasts," said d.i.c.k. "I'll call father. No, I won't. Perhaps it's nothing. Let's go down and see."

"But we should have to dress."

"No; only slip on our trousers and boots. You'll go with me, won't you?"

"Yes, I'll go," said Tom; "but I don't want to."

"What! after waking me up to listen!"

"Oh, I'll go!" said Tom, following his companion's lead and beginning to dress.

"Tell you what," said d.i.c.k; "we'll get out of the window and drop down."

"And how are we to get back?"

"Short ladder," said d.i.c.k laconically. "Come along. Ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready."

The boys moved to the window, and, setting the example, d.i.c.k placed one leg out, and was seated astride the sill, when the bed-room door was suddenly thrown open, and the squire appeared.

"Now, then! What does this mean?" he cried angrily.

"We heard something wrong with the beasts, father, and we were going to see," cried d.i.c.k.

"Heard something wrong with the beasts, indeed! Yes, and I heard something wrong with them. Now, then, both of you jump into bed, and if I hear another sound, I'll--"

The squire stopped short, for there was a piteous whinny from the stable again.

"There, father! and old Billy's got something the matter with him too,"