Mass' George Part 32

"Then come here directly."

"Ole ma.s.sa go along, an' Ma.s.sa George a 'top alonga."

"Pompey!"

"Yes, missie; you call a me?"

"Oh!" cried Sarah, fiercely, "just wait till I get hold of you, sir;"

and she ran off down the path at the other side of the house, shouting for the boy, who kept on answering, and, as I realised now, purposely leading her farther and farther away to give his father time.

For, stooping low down, and with wonderful speed and agility, Hannibal, who had crept out of the hut, suddenly darted into and down the garden, and as I followed, keeping well hidden among the trees, I saw him reach the front of the house, shake out the uniform, hang coat and breeches on the rail, stick the cap on the end, and dart off away in another direction, so to reach the path leading into the forest on the way to the stream.

I ached with my efforts to keep down my laughter, as I saw him scud off, glad at heart though, all the same, for, poor fellow, he had escaped.

Then all at once my admiration for Pomp increased to a wonderful degree, for I heard a howl from the other side of the house, the sound of blows, heavy ones too; and as Pomp shrieked and howled, it was evident that Sarah was cuffing him tremendously.

Her voice grew louder every moment, so did Pomp's cries and protestations, till I could hear every word from my hiding-place, thoroughly enjoying of course the punishment that had fallen on the boy, while delighted by his ruse to get the clothes back and save his father.

"Oh don't, missie; don't whop a poor lil n.i.g.g.e.r," came loudly.

"You mischievous--(_bang_!)--young--(_bang_!)--Where are those clothes?"

"No, haven't got 'em, missie; no, haven't got 'em. Oh! _oh_! Oh!"

"Don't tell me your wicked stories, sir. Tell me this moment, or master shall know, and you shall be flogged. You have stolen them away."

"No, no, missie, Pompey nebber 'teal, no, nebber; wouldn't 'teal notin'."

"You--(_bang_!)--have taken--(_bang_!)--those clothes away. Where are they, sir?"

"Oh, don't whip lil n.i.g.g.e.r, missie. No got no clothes on'y lil cotton drawers, an' lil shirtums," howled Pomp, as he was dragged into sight now, Sarah holding on tightly by one of his ears.

"And I say you have got them, sir. n.o.body else could have taken them,"

cried Sarah. "You wicked black magpie, you! Show me this instant where you have put them, or I don't know what I won't do."

I knew what was coming; it was all plain enough. But no, not quite all; but I did see the _denouement_ to some extent, for, as Sarah dragged the boy forward, I could contain myself no longer.

"Oh don't, missie!" howled the young dog.

"Oh, but I will," cried Sarah. "I put poor master's uniform on that rail to air, and--_Well_!"

"Ha--ha--ha--ha--ha!"

I never laughed louder in my life, as I burst forth into quite a yell, for there stood poor Sarah, with her mouth wide open, staring at the uniform hanging on the rail, and then at Pomp, who looked up at her with his face screwed up in mock agony, but his eyes twinkling with delight.

"Was dem a clothes you gone lose, missie?" he said, innocently; and Sarah panted and looked is my direction. "Dat Ma.s.sa George bra.s.s out alarfin for you whip poor lil n.i.g.g.e.r nuffin tall."

"Oh--oh--oh!" burst forth Sarah at last, hysterically; "it's a shame--a cruel shame, Master George, to play me such a good-for-nothing trick."

I ceased laughing directly, and my mouth opened now with astonishment at the turn things had taken.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir," cried Sarah; "and here have I been ill-using this poor boy because--Oh, Pompey, Pompey, Pompey!"

She caught him in her arms and gave him a motherly hug, while I stood amongst the trees speechless.

"Missie cry her eyes cos she whip Pompey?"

"Yes, my poor boy," cried Sarah. "But his father shall know. Ah, you may well stop in hiding, sir; it's a shame." Then, ever so much louder, "It's a shame!"

"Don't 'cold Ma.s.sa George, missie," said Pompey. "Him nebber do nuffin."

"Do nothing, indeed!" cried Sarah. "You come along in with me, and I'm very, very sorry I whipped you."

"Pompey done mind, missie," said the boy, showing his teeth.

"There, you're a very good, forgiving boy," said Sarah, as she caught up the uniform to take it in; "and I wish I could forgive myself."

Then, catching Pomp by the arm, she led him into the house, from which he soon after returned with a corn-cake and half a pot of prime jam of Sarah's own make.

And there I stood all the time thinking seriously among the trees, and unable to make up my mind what to do. If I did not speak, I should bear the blame, and Sarah would remain angry with me. If I told all, poor Hannibal, who had been led into the indulgence in a bit of vanity by his boy, would be in disgrace, and I knew that the poor fellow would feel it keenly. If I did not tell all, that young rascal would triumph in his cunning and deceit, and enjoy letting me have the credit of playing the trick on Sarah.

"I will tell," I said, sharply, as I saw Pomp come out licking his thick lips, and enjoying the jam.

Then I thought of how patiently he had borne Sarah's blows, so as to save his father from getting into disgrace, and that disarmed me again; so that my mind see-sawed about in the most tiresome way, till I gave up in despair, coming to no conclusion, and leaving the matter to settle itself, but determined to give Master Pomp a good thrashing soon, so as to get some satisfaction out of the affair.

"Pomp," I said, half aloud, "Pomp. Yes, I called him Pomp; and after what I saw in the hut I ought to call old Hannibal Vanity. So I will-- Pomp and Vanity. I wish I could make up my mind what to do."

I had something else to think of the next moment, for I heard a shout, and Hannibal himself came running along the path from the stream.

"Hi--hi--Ma.s.s' George!" he shouted, breathlessly.

"What's the matter?" I said, running towards the house to get a gun.

"Here, quick, come in here."

I strained my eyes as I ran, expecting to see Indians in pursuit of him, but he alone was visible, and he pointed, breathless and panting, in the direction from which he came.

"What is it?" I cried. "What's the matter?"

The answer came in a peculiar, low, hissing, rushing sound, as if a storm were coming through the forest. It ceased directly, and died away in a low, dull roar.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"Here, what's the matter?" I cried; and at that moment Sarah came running out again, looking inquiringly from one to the other.

"What was that noise?" she said.

"De ribber--de ribber," panted Hannibal. Then he tried to say more, but he was so excited that his command of English failed him, and he turned to Pomp, who had just come back from the hut, and said something to him volubly in his own tongue. Pomp's mouth opened wide, and he stared wildly at his father. Then turning to me, he caught hold of my arm.