Dick o' the Fens Part 56

"Don't touch him!" cried d.i.c.k, "or he'll kick you."

"Poor old Sol!" said Tom again, and this time he approached the donkey's head.

"Don't touch him, I tell you! He'll bite if you do! He's in a nasty temper because I would put on his bridle, and I was obliged to persuade him to be quiet with a pitchfork handle."

"What a shame!" said Tom.

"Shame, eh! Just you look here," cried d.i.c.k, and down one of his coa.r.s.e worsted stockings, he displayed a great bruise on his white leg. "He did that three days ago, and he tried to do it again this morning, only I was too quick for him."

"Haugh! haugh-h-haugh!" sighed Solomon in a most dismal tone.

"Says he's sorry for it!" cried Tom, grinning.

"Oh, very well then, I'm sorry I hit him with the pitchfork handle. I say, Tom, I gave him such a whop!"

"Where did you hit him?"

"Where I could. You can't pick your place when you try to hit Solomon.

You must look sharp or you'll get it first."

"But he wouldn't be so disagreeable if you were kind to him," said Tom.

"Poor old Sol, then!"

There was a sharp twist of the donkey's neck, and, quick as lightning, the fierce little animal made a grab at Tom. Fortunately he missed his shoulder, but he got tightly hold of the sleeve of his coat, and held on till d.i.c.k gave him a furious kick, when he let go.

"Kick him again, d.i.c.k!" cried Tom, who looked very pale. "Ugh! the treacherous beast!"

"It's his nature," said d.i.c.k coolly, as he resumed his position and leaned over the donkey's back. "He always was so from a foal! Father's always kind to dumb beasts, and feeds them well, and nurses them when they're ill; but he often gives Solomon a crack. I say, look at old Thorpeley; he's watching you now."

"He isn't; he's looking all round. I say, d.i.c.k, you can't tell where he is looking. I wonder what makes any one squint like that!"

"Had one of his eyes knocked out and put in again upside down," said d.i.c.k.

"Get out!" cried Tom.

"Haugh, haugh, haugh, haugh, haugh, haugh!" cried Solomon.

"There, he's laughing at you. I say, d.i.c.k, do you think he really does watch us?"

"Sure of it. He thinks I houghed the poor horses. I know he does, and he expects to find out that I did it by following me about."

"How do you know he suspects you?"

"Because he is always asking questions about our window being open that night, and about how I found out there was something the matter with the poor beasts. I say, Tom, I hate that fellow."

"So do I," said Tom in tones which indicated his loyalty to his friend.

"Let's serve him out!"

"Oh, but you mustn't! A constable is sworn in."

"What difference does that make?"

"I don't know, but he is; and he has a little staff in his pocket with a bra.s.s crown upon it, and he says, 'In the king's name!'"

"Well, let him if he likes. The king in London can't know what we do down here in the fen. I say, let's serve him out!"

"No," said d.i.c.k, "it might get father into trouble. I say, I know what I'll do if you like."

"What, take him out in a boat and upset it?"

"No, lend him Solomon to ride!"

As he spoke d.i.c.k looked at Tom and Tom looked at d.i.c.k before they both burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

"Here, let's get away. He's coming!"

d.i.c.k turned to go, but Solomon objected. Possibly he understood what had been said. At all events he stood fast, and refused to move till, in obedience to a call from his friend, Tom took hold of the bridle and dragged, while d.i.c.k made a sudden rush behind, as if to deliver a tremendous kick.

Solomon sighed and consented to move, and, evidently considering himself mastered, he became amiable, made a playful attempt to bite, and then started off at a canter.

"Jump on, Tom!" cried d.i.c.k.

The lad wanted no second invitation, but scuffled on to the donkey's back as it went on, and the trio trotted along for about a hundred yards.

"Where shall we go?" cried Tom.

"Straight on. Let's see how Mr Marston's getting along. Here, you ride on to the alders' corner and tie up Sol, and then go on."

"I say: here's the constable coming." d.i.c.k looked back and frowned.

"There, I told you so!" he cried. "It doesn't matter what I do, that man watches me."

"He's only going for a walk."

"Going for a walk!" cried d.i.c.k fiercely; "he's following me. You'll see he'll keep to me all the time. I should like to serve him out."

Tom was going to say something else, but his words were jerked out at random, and the next died away, for, as if he approved of the smell of the salt-sea air, Solomon suddenly whisked his tail, uttered a squeak, and after a bound went off at a tremendous gallop, stretching out like a greyhound, and showing what speed he possessed whenever he liked to put it forth.

The sudden spring he made produced such comical effects that d.i.c.k Winthorpe stopped short in the rough track along the edge of the fen, to laugh. For Tom Tallington had been seated carelessly on the donkey's back right behind, and turned half round to talk to his companion. The consequence was that he was jerked up in the air, and came down again as if bound to slip off. But Tom and d.i.c.k had practised the art of riding almost ever since they could run alone, and in their early lessons one had ridden astride the top bar of a gate hundreds of times, while the other swung it open and then threw it back, the great feat being to give the gate a tremendous bang against the post, so as to nearly shake the rider from his seat.

The jerk was unpleasant, at times even painful; but it taught the lads to hold on with their legs, and made them better able to display their prowess in other mounts which were tested from time to time.

They were not particular as to what they turned into a steed. Sometimes it was Farmer Tallington's Hips, the brindled cow, when she was fetched from the end of the home close to be milked. This would have been one of the calmest of rides, and afforded plenty of room for both boys to ride Knight-Templar fashion, after old Sam had helped them on, but it was not a ride much sought for, because Hips was not a mollusc. Quite the contrary: she was a vertebrate animal, very vertebrate indeed, and a ride on her back represented a journey upon the edge of a Brobdingnagian blunt saw, set up along a kind of broad lattice covered with a skin.

There was a favourite old sow at the Toft which was often put in requisition, but she only carried one. Still it was a comfortable seat, only in the early days of the boys' life that pig's back was wont to tickle; and then too she had a very bad habit.

Of course these rides were not had in the sty, nor yet in the farm-yard, but out along by the edge of the fen, and the enjoyment was nearly perfect till it was brought to an end, always in the same way, as soon as a nice convenient shallow pool was encountered, for here Lady Winthorpe, as she was called, always lay down for a comfortable wallow, when it was no use to wait for another ride, for the seat became too wet.