Just William Part 27

"Oh, shut up about the baby," said William picking up his damp and now prune-coloured handkerchief. "I'm just about sick of it. Come on with the fire."

They made a little pile of twigs in the field and began the process of lighting it.

"I hope that cow won't hurt the 'kidnap,'" said Douglas suddenly. "Go and see, William; it's your kidnap."

"Well, an' it's Henry's cow, and I'm sorry for that cow if it tries playin' tricks on that baby."

But he rose from his knees reluctantly, and threw open the barn door.

The cow and the baby were still gazing admiringly at each other. From the cow's mouth at the end of a long, sodden ribbon, hung the chewed remains of the baby's hat. The baby was holding up the dog biscuit and crowed delightfully as the cow bent down its head and cautiously and gingerly smelt it. As William entered, the cow turned round and switched its tail against the baby's head. At the piercing howl that followed, the whole band of outlaws entered the barn.

"What are you doing to the poor little thing?" said Douglas to William.

"It's Henry's cow," said William despairingly. "It hit it. Oh, go on, shut up! Do shut up."

The howls redoubled.

"You brought it," said Henry accusingly, raising his voice to be heard above the baby's fury and indignation. "Can't you stop it? Not much sense taking babies about if you don't know how to stop 'em crying!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: FROM THE COW'S MOUTH HUNG THE CHEWED REMAINS OF THE HAT.

THE COW AND THE BABY GAZED ADMIRINGLY AT EACH OTHER.]

The baby was now purple in the face.

The Outlaws stood around and watched it helplessly.

"P'raps it's hungry," suggested Douglas.

He took up the half cake from the remains of the stores and held it out tentatively to the baby. The baby stopped crying suddenly.

"Dad--dad--dad--dad--dad," it said tearfully.

Douglas blushed and grinned.

"Keeps on thinking I'm its father," he said with conscious superiority.

"Here, like some cake?"

The baby broke off a handful and conveyed it to its mouth.

"It's eating it," cried Douglas in shrill excitement. After thoroughly masticating it, however, the baby repented of its condescension and ejected the mouthful in several instalments.

William blushed for it.

"Oh, come on, let's go and look at the fire," he said weakly.

They left the barn and returned to the scene of the fire-lighting. The cow, still swinging the remains of the baby's hat from its mouth, was standing with its front feet firmly planted on the remains of what had been a promising fire.

"Look!" cried William, in undisguised pleasure. "Look at Henry's cow!

Pretty nice sort of cow you've brought, Henry. Not much sense taking cows about if you can't stop them puttin' folks' fires out."

After a heated argument, the Outlaws turned their attention to the cow.

The cow refused to be "shoo'd off." It simply stood immovable and stared them out. Ginger approached cautiously and gave it a little push. It switched its tail into his eye and continued to munch the baby's hat-string. Upon William's approaching it lowered its head, and William retreated hastily. At last they set off to collect some fresh wood and light a fresh fire. Soon they were blissfully consuming two blackened slices of ham, the popcorn, and what was left of the cake.

After the "feast," Ginger and William, as Wild Indians, attacked the barn, which was defended by Douglas and Henry. The "kidnap" crawled round inside on all fours, picking up any treasures it might come across _en route_ and testing their effect on its palate.

Occasionally it carried on a conversation with its defenders, bringing with it a strong perfume of paraffin oil as it approached.

"Blab--blab--blab--blab--blub--blub--Dad--dad--dad--dad--dad.

Go--o--o--o."

William had insisted on a place on the attacking side.

"I couldn't put any feelin'," he explained, "into fightin' for that baby."

When they finally decided to set off homewards, William gazed hopelessly at his charge. Its appearance defies description. For many years afterwards William a.s.sociated babies in his mind with paraffin-oil and potato.

"Just help me get the potato out of its hair," he pleaded; "never mind the oil and the rest of it."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THAT'S MY PRAM!" SAID WILLIAM TO THE CARGO, AS THEY EMERGED JOYFULLY FROM THE DITCH.]

"My hat! doesn't it smell funny!--and doesn't it look funny--all oil and potato and bits of cake!" said Ginger.

"Oh! shut up about it," said William irritably.

The cow followed them down to the stile and watched them sardonically as they climbed it.

"Bow-wow!" murmured the baby in affectionate farewell.

William looked wildly round for the pram, but--the pram was gone--only the piece of string dangled from the railings.

"Crumbs!" said William, "Talk about bad luck! I'm simply statin' a fact.

Talk about bad luck!"

At that minute the pram appeared, charging down the hill at full speed with a cargo of small boys. At the bottom of the hill it overturned into a ditch accompanied by its cargo. To judge from its appearance, it had pa.s.sed the afternoon performing the operation.

"That's my pram!" said William to the cargo, as it emerged, joyfully, from the ditch.

"Garn! S'ours! We found it."

"Well, I left it there."

"Come on! We'll fight for it," said Ginger, rolling up his sleeves in a businesslike manner. The other Outlaws followed his example. The pram's cargo eyed them appraisingly.

"Oh, all right! Take your rotten old pram!" they said at last.

Douglas placed the baby in its seat and William thoughtfully put up the hood to shield his charge as far as possible from the curious gaze of the pa.s.sers-by. His charge was now chewing the pram cover and talking excitedly to itself. With a "heart steeled for any fate" William turned the corner into his own road. The baby's mother was standing at his gate.

"There you are!" she called. "I was getting quite anxious. Thank you _so_ much, dear."

BUT THAT IS WHAT SHE SAID BEFORE SHE SAW THE BABY!