From Squire to Squatter Part 10

"Tally ho! Yoicks!" he shouted. Then clattered down the avenue, cleared the low, white gate, and speedily disappeared across the fields.

Archie had promised himself a rare day's run, and he was not disappointed. The fox was an old one and a wily one--and, I might add, a very gentlemanly old fox--and he led the field one of the prettiest dances that Dawson, the greyest-headed huntsman in the North, ever remembered; but there was no kill. No; Master Reynard knew precisely where he was going, and got home all right, and went quietly to sleep as soon as the pack drew off.

The consequence was that Archie found himself still ten miles from home as gloaming was deepening into night. Another hour he thought would find him at Burley Old Farm. But people never know what is before them, especially hunting people.

It had been observed by old Kate, that after Archie left in the morning, Bounder seemed unusually sad. He refused his breakfast, and behaved so strangely that the superst.i.tious dame was quite alarmed.

"I'll say naething to the ladies," she told one of the servants, "but, woe is me! I fear that something awfu' is gain tae happen. I houp the young laddie winna brak his neck. He rode awa' sae daft-like. He is just his faither a' ower again."

Bounder really had something on his mind; for dogs do think far more than we give them credit for. Well, the Squire was off, and also Mr Walton, and now his young master had flown. What did it mean? Why he would find out before he was many hours older. So ran Bounder's cogitations.

To think was to act with Bounder; so up he jumped, and off he trotted.

He followed the scent for miles; then he met an errant collie, and forgetting for a time all about his master, he went off with him. There were many things to be done, and Bounder was not in a hurry. They chased cows and sheep together merely for mischief's sake; they gave chase to some rabbits, and when the bunnies took to their holes, they spent hours in a vain attempt to dig them out. The rabbits knew they could never succeed, so they quietly washed their faces and laughed at them.

They tired at last, and with their heads and paws covered with mould, commenced to look for mice among the moss. They came upon a wild bees'

home in a bank, and tore this up, killing the inmates bee by bee as they scrambled out wondering what the racket meant. They snapped at the bees who were returning home, and when both had their lips well stung they concluded to leave the hive alone. Honey wasn't _very_ nice after all, they said. At sunset they bathed in a mill-dam and swam about till nearly dusk, because the miller's boy was obliging enough to throw in sticks for them. Then the miller's boy fell in himself, and Bounder took him out and laid him on the bank to drip, neither knowing nor caring that he had saved a precious life. But the miller's boy's mother appeared on the scene and took the weeping lad away, inviting the dogs to follow. She showered blessings on their heads, especially on "the big black one's," as the urchin called Bounder, and she put bread and milk before them and bade them cat. The dogs required no second bidding, and just as Bounder was finishing his meal the sound of hoofs was heard on the road, and out bounced Bounder, the horse swerved, the rider was thrown, and the dog began to wildly lick his face.

"So it's you, is it, Bounder?" said Archie. "A nice trick. And now I'll have to walk home a good five miles."

Bounder backed off and barked. Why did his master go off and leave him then? That is what the dog was saying.

"Come on, boy," said Archie. "There's no help for it; but I do feel stiff."

They could go straight over the hill, and through the fields and the wood, that was one consolation.

So off they set, and Archie soon forgot his stiffness and warmed to his work.

Bounder followed close to his heels, as if he were a very old and a very wise dog indeed; and harrying bees' hives, or playing with millers'

boys, could find no place in his thoughts.

Archie lost his way once or twice, and it grew quite dark. He was wondering what he should do when he noticed a light spring up not far away, and commenced walking towards it. It came from the little window of a rustic cottage, and the boy knew at once now in which way to steer.

Curiosity, however, impelled him to draw near to the window. He gave just one glance in, but very quickly drew back. Sitting round a table was a gang of half a dozen poachers. He knew them as the worst and most notorious evil-doers in all the country round. They were eating and drinking, and guns stood in the corners, while the men themselves seemed ready to be off somewhere.

Away went Archie. He wanted no nearer acquaintance with a gang like that.

In his way home he had to pa.s.s Bob Cooper's cottage, and thought he might just look in, because Bob had a whole book of new flies getting ready for him, and perhaps they were done.

Bob was out, and his mother was sitting reading the good Book by the light of a little black oil lamp. She looked very anxious, and said she felt so. Her laddie had "never said where he was going. Only just went away out, and hadn't come back."

It was Archie's turn now to be anxious, when he thought of the gang, and the dark work they might be after. Bob was not among them, but who could tell that he would not join afterwards?

He bade the widow "Good-night," and went slowly homewards thinking.

He found everyone in a state of extreme anxiety. Hours ago Tell had galloped to his stable door, and if there be anything more calculated to raise alarm than another, it is the arrival at his master's place of a riderless horse.

But Archie's appearance, alive and intact, dispelled the cloud, and dinner was soon announced.

"Oh, by the way," said Archie's tutor, as they were going towards the dining-room, "your old friend Bob Cooper has been here, and wants to see you! I think he is in the kitchen now."

Away rushed Archie, and sure enough there was Bob eating supper in old Kate's private room.

He got up as Archie's entered, and looked shy, as people of his cla.s.s do at times.

Archie was delighted.

"I brought the flies, and some new sorts that I think will do for the Kelpie burn," he said.

"Well, I'm going to dine, Bob; you do the same. Don't go till I see you. How long have you been here?"

"Two hours, anyhow."

When Archie returned he invited Bob to the room in the Castle Tower.

Kate must come too, and Branson with his fiddle.

Away went Archie and his rough friend, and were just finishing a long debate about flies and fishing when Kate and Peter, and Branson and Bounder, came up the turret stairs and entered the room.

Archie then told them all of what he had seen that night at the cottage.

"Mark my words for it," said Bob, shaking his head, "they're up to some black work to-night."

"You mustn't go yet awhile, Bob," Archie said. "We'll have some fun, and you're as well where you are."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE WIDOW'S LONELY HUT.

Bob Cooper bade Archie and Branson good-bye that night at the bend of the road, some half mile from his own home, and trudged st.u.r.dily on in the starlight. There was sufficient light "to see men as trees walking."

"My mother'll think I'm out in th' woods," Bob said to himself. "Well, she'll be glad when she knows she's wrong this time."

Once or twice he started, and looked cautiously, half-fearfully, round him; for he felt certain he saw dark shadows in the field close by, and heard the stealthy tread of footsteps.

He grasped the stout stick he carried all the firmer, for the poacher had made enemies of late by separating himself from a well-known gang of his old a.s.sociates--men who, like the robbers in the ancient ballad--

"Slept all day and waked all night, And kept the country round in fright."

On he went; and the strange, uncomfortable feeling at his heart was dispelled as, on rounding a corner of the road, he saw the light glinting cheerfully from his mother's cottage.

"Poor old creature," he murmured half aloud, "many a sore heart I've given her. But I'll be a better boy now. I'll--"

"Now, lads," shouted a voice, "have at him!"

"Back!" cried Bob Cooper, brandishing his cudgel. "Back, or it'll be worse for you!"

The dark shadows made a rush. Bob struck out with all his force, and one after another fell beneath his arm. But a blow from behind disabled him at last, and down he went, just as his distracted mother came rushing, lantern in hand, from her hut. There was the sharp click of the handcuffs, and Bob Cooper was a prisoner. The lantern-light fell on the uniforms of policemen.

"What is it? Oh, what has my laddie been doin'?"