From Squire to Squatter Part 9

Branson drove the cattle towards the pen, and got them inside, then he and his men concentrated all their attention on the combatants.

"The boy'll be killed as sure as a gun!" cried the keeper. Archie did not think so, evidently; and it is certain he had his wits about him, for presently he rode near enough to shout:

"Ease up a hurdle from the back of the pen, and stand by to open it as I ride through."

The plan was a bold one, and Branson saw through it at once.

Down he ran with his men, and a back hurdle was loosened.

"All right!" he shouted.

And now down thundered Scallowa and Archie, the bull making a beautiful second.

In a minute or less he had entered the pen, but this very moment the style of the fight changed somewhat; for had not the attention of everyone been riveted on the race, they might have seen the great Newfoundland dashing over the field, and just as Lord Glendale was entering the pen, Bounder pinned him short by the tail.

The brute roared with pain and wheeled round. Meanwhile Archie had escaped on the pony, and the back hurdle was put up again. But how about the new phase the fight had taken?

Once more the boy's quick-wittedness came to the front. He leapt off the pony and back into the pen, calling aloud, "Bounder! Bounder!

Bounder!"

In rushed the obedient dog, and after him came the bull; up went the hurdle, and off went Archie! But, alas! for the unlucky Bounder. He was tossed right over into the field a moment afterwards, bleeding frightfully from a wound in his side.

To all appearance Bounder was dead. In an agony of mind the boy tried to staunch the blood with his handkerchief; and when at last the poor dog lifted his head, and licked his young master's face, the relief to his feelings was so great that he burst into tears. Archie was only a boy after all, though a bold and somewhat mischievous one.

Bounder now drank water brought from a stream in a hat. He tried to get up, but was too weak to walk, so he was lifted on to Scallowa's broad back and held there, and thus they all returned to Burley Old Farm.

So ended the adventure with the baby-bull of Chillingham. The ring was put in his nose next day, and I hope it did not hurt much. But old Kate had Bounder as a patient in the kitchen corner for three whole weeks.

A day or two after the above adventure, and just as the Squire was putting on his coat in the hall, who should march up to the door and knock but Harry Brown himself.

Most boys would have gone to the backdoor, but shyness was not one of Harry's failings.

"'Ullo!" he said; for the door opened almost on the instant he knocked, "Yer don't take long to hopen to a chap then."

"No," said Squire Broadbent, smiling down on the lad; "fact is, boy, I was just going out."

"Going for a little houting, hey? Is 'pose now you're Johnnie's guv'nor?"

"I think I know whom you refer to. Master Archie, isn't it? and you're the little London lad?"

"I don't know nuffink about no Harchies. P'r'aps it _is_ Harchibald.

But I allers calls my friends wot they looks like. He looks like Johnnie. Kinsevently, guv'nor, he _is_ Johnnie to me. D'ye twig?"

"I think I do," said Squire Broadbent, laughing; "and you want to see my boy?"

"Vot I vants is this 'ere. Johnnie is a rare game un. 'Scuse me, guv'nor, but Johnnie's got the grit in him, and I vant to say good-bye; nuffink else, guv'nor."

Here Harry actually condescended to point a finger at his lip by way of salute, and just at the same moment Archie himself came round the corner. He looked a little put out, but his father only laughed, and he saw it was all right.

These were Harry's last words: "Good-bye, then. You've got the grit in ye, Johnnie. And if hever ye vants a friend, telegraph to 'Arry Brown, Esq., of Vitechapel, 'cos ye know, Johnnie, the king may come in the cadger's vay. Adoo. So long. Blue-lights, and hoff we goes."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

"THEY'RE UP TO SOME BLACK WORK TO-NIGHT."

Another summer flew all too fast away at Burley Old Farm and Castle Tower. The song of birds was hushed in the wild woods, even the corn-crake had ceased its ventriloquistic notes, and the plaintive wee lilt of the yellow-hammer was heard no more. The corn grew ripe on braeland and field, was cut down, gathered, stooked, and finally carted away. The swallows flew southwards, but the peewits remained in droves, and the starlings took up their abode with the sheep. Squires and st.u.r.dy farmers might now have been met tramping, gun in hand, over the stubble, through the dark green turnip-fields, and over the distant moorlands, where the crimson heather still bloomed so bonnie.

Anon, the crisp leaves, through which the wind now swept with harsher moan, began to change to yellows, crimsons, and all the hues of sunset, and by-and-by it was hunting-time again.

Archie was unusually thoughtful one night while the family sat, as of yore, round the low fire in the green parlour, Elsie and Rupert being busy in their corner over a game of chess.

"In a brown study, Archie?" said his mother.

"_No_, mummie; that is, Yes, I was thinking--"

"Wonders will never cease," said Rupert, without looking up. Archie looked towards him, but his brother only smiled at the chessmen. The boy was well enough now to joke and laugh. Best of signs and most hopeful.

"I was thinking that my legs are almost too long now to go to the meet on poor Scallowa. Not that Scallowa would mind. But don't you think, mummie dear, that a long boy on a short pony looks odd?"

"A little, Archie."

"Well, why couldn't father let me have Tell to-morrow? He is not going out himself."

His father was reading the newspaper, but he looked at Archie over it.

Though only his eyes were visible, the boy knew he was smiling.

"If you think you won't break your neck," he said, "you may take Tell."

"Oh," Archie replied, "I'm quite sure I won't break _my_ neck!"

The Squire laughed now outright.

"You mean you _might_ break Tell's, eh?"

"Well, dad, I didn't _say_ that."

"_No_, Archie, but you _thought_ it."

"I'm afraid, dad, the emphasis fell on the wrong word."

"Never mind, Archie, where the emphasis falls; but if you let Tell fall the emphasis will fall where you won't like it."

"All right, dad, I'll chance the emphasis. Hurrah!"

The Squire and Mr Walton went off early next day to a distant town, and Branson had orders to bring Tell round to the hall door at nine sharp; which he did. The keeper was not groom, but he was the tallest man about, and Archie thought he would want a leg up.

Archie's mother was there, and Elsie, and Rupert, and old Kate, and little Peter, to say nothing of Bounder and Fuss, all to see "t' young Squire mount." But no one expected the sight they did see when Archie appeared; for the lad's sense of fun and the ridiculous was quite irrepressible. And the young rascal had dressed himself from top to toe in his father's hunting-rig--boots, cords, red coat, hat, and all complete. Well, as the boots were a mile and a half too big for him-- more or less, and the breeches and coat would have held at least three Archie Broadbents, while the hat nearly buried his head, you may guess what sort of a guy he looked. Bounder drew back and barked at him. Old Kate turned her old eyes cloudwards, and held up her palms. Branson for politeness' sake _tried_ not to laugh; but it was too much, he went off at last like a soda-water cork, and the merriment rippled round the ring like wildfire. Even poor Rupert laughed till the tears came. Then back into the house ran Archie, and presently re-appeared dressed in his own velvet suit.

But Archie had not altogether cooled down yet. He had come to the conclusion that having an actual leg up, was not an impressive way of getting on to his hunter; so after kissing his mother, and asking Rupert to kiss Elsie for him, he bounded at one spring to Branson's shoulder, and from this elevation bowed and said "good morning," then let himself neatly down to the saddle.