The Buccaneer Farmer Part 38

"A matter of precaution! Anyhow, I didn't sign this order, and that's why I kept it. The thing was rather important and we were lucky to find out the cheat in time, particularly as I imagined n.o.body could imitate my hand. You'll see my proper signature on the next doc.u.ment."

"It's not a very good counterfeit," said Gerald, who compared the writing with the other, "This is a subject I know something about. Penmanship is one of my few talents and I keep the customers' signature book at the bank. Yours is an uncommon hand, but it could be forged. Let's see! May I use this paper?"

Kit nodded and Gerald, knitting his brows, wrote the name three or four times and then looked up.

"I think I've got it. Hard to tell which is genuine, if you put them side by side?"

"Yes," said Kit. "I'm not sure I could tell which is mine."

Gerald laughed. "One has to study these things; part of my job, you see, and banks are cheated oftener than people think. However, I expect you want to get to work and I'll go back to the tarn."

He went out and Kit tore up the paper. He thought a talent like Gerald's might be dangerous if it were used by an unscrupulous man.

CHAPTER III

THE HORSE SHOW

It was a calm evening and Osborn sat on the terrace, studying a printed notice. Mrs. Osborn poured out coffee at a small table, and Gerald and Grace occupied the top of the broad steps to the lawn. The sun was low, the air was cool, and except for the soft splash of a beck, a deep quietness brooded over the dale.

"It will be a good show," Osborn remarked, reaching for a cup. "I insisted on the rather early date, because if we had waited until the hay was in, we might have got wet weather. Two or three objected, but I'm satisfied I took the proper line. One must be firm with an argumentative committee."

Gerald's eyes twinkled as he looked at Grace. Osborn generally was firm with people who gave way, and Gerald had heard some grumbling about his changing the date for the horse show.

"It's the last time I'll be president," Osborn resumed. "I had meant to resign, but Thorn could not take the post, Sir George is away, and a well-known local man is needed to give the thing a proper start."

"Rather an expensive honor!" Gerald observed. "The president's expected to make up the shortage if the day is wet."

"That was one reason for my fixing the meeting early, when we often get it fine," Osborn replied navely. "The expense is a drawback, but the committee would not let me drop out."

"Mother and Grace will want new hats and clothes, and I expect the job will cost you more than you think. You'll have to give them a lead by bidding for the chapel sheep."

"If that meddlesome fellow Drysdale is going to send his sheep to the show, the arrangement was made without my knowing," Osborn replied angrily.

Mrs. Osborn looked disturbed, but Gerald laughed. He rather enjoyed provoking his father when he thought it safe. Drysdale was treasurer for a body of Nonconformists, who wanted to build a new chapel and, finding the farmers reluctant to give money, had asked for contributions from their flocks and herds.

"The idea was that the sale would be an extra attraction," Gerald went on. "Still, I admit it's hard for you, because you hate chapels and will have to bid. In fact, you'll, no doubt, have to buy the sheep at a sentimental price and sell them at their value."

"I believe in liberty of conscience and do not hate chapels," Osborn rejoined. "For all that, I own to a natural prejudice against people who attend such places, largely because they mix up their religious and political creeds. It would be strange if I sympathized with their plans for robbing the landlords."

"Anyhow, Drysdale means to bring his flock, and I'm afraid you'll have to pay. The situation has some humor."

Osborn knitted his brows. Hayes had been talking to him about the estate accounts and he had resolved to practise stern economy. Economy was needful, unless he gave a fresh mortgage to pay the interest on his other debts; and here was an expense he had not bargained for.

"If I'd known about Drysdale, I'd have resigned," he said. "I took the post again because there was n.o.body else."

"They might have tried Askew," Gerald suggested.

"Askew? A fellow of no importance, unknown outside the dale!"

"I imagine he'll be better known soon, and he's rather a good sort. Gave me a very good lunch not long since and has obviously spent something on the farm. His room is like a museum, and he has a number of valuable things. Seems to have had some adventures abroad, and found them profitable."

"You mean he tried to impress you by vague boasting?"

"No," said Gerald, "I don't think he did; the fellow's not that kind. In fact, he's rather good form, and has somehow got the proper stamp."

Grace looked at her brother, as if she agreed; but Osborn remarked ironically, "You imagine yourself a judge?"

"Oh, well," said Gerald, smiling, "I've had the advantage of being brought up at Tarnside, and belong to a good London club. Anyhow, Askew's much less provincial than some of our exclusive friends."

He strolled off and Osborn went to the library, where he spent some time studying his accounts. The calculations he made were disturbing and he resented the possibility of his being forced to help Drysdale's fund.

Nevertheless, the president of the show would be expected to lead the bidding and the Osborns did things properly.

A week or two afterwards, Mrs. Osborn opened the show in a field by the market-town, which stood in a hollow among the moors. The gra.s.s sloped to a river that sparkled in the sun and then vanished in the alders' shade.

Across the stream, old oak and ash trees rolled up the side of the Moot Hill, and round the latter gray walls and roofs showed among the leaves.

A spire and a square, ivy-covered tower rose above the faint blue haze of smoke. A few white clouds floated in the sky and their cool shadows crept slowly across the field.

The horses were not very numerous, but the show had other attractions and was an excuse for a general holiday. The crowd was larger than usual, Mrs. Osborn's nervous speech was cheered, and for a time Osborn forgot that the office he had taken might cost him something. He was carrying out a duty he owed the neighborhood and felt that he could do so better than anybody else. He did not admit that he liked to take the leading place.

His first annoyance came with the sheep-dog trials. He had not known Askew was a compet.i.tor and frowned as he saw Grace go up to him when a flock of Herdwicks entered the field. The girl ought to have seen that it was not the proper thing for his daughter to proclaim her acquaintance with the fellow. Then Gerald followed her, and began talking to Askew as if he knew him well. Gerald, was of course, irresponsibly eccentric, but his folly jarred.

Grace had found it needful to get a new dress and hat, and Kit thrilled and tried to hide his delight in her beauty as she advanced. His rough-coated dog ran to meet her and she stroked its s.h.a.ggy head.

"I hope Bob is going to win," she remarked.

"It's doubtful," Kit replied. "He's clever, but they don't give us much time and he's getting slow. One or two of his rivals are very good."

"You'll do your best, old Bob," said Grace, and the dog, looking up at her with friendly eyes, beat his tail on the ground.

Then Gerald came up, and soon afterwards the judges tied a string to a farmer's leg and fastened the other end to a post. This allowed him to run a short distance, after which he must direct his dog by voice.

"First trial, Mr. Forsyth's Merry Lad," a steward announced, and the crowd gathered round when the judge took out his watch.

Furze bushes had been stuck into the ground to simulate a broken hedge.

Beyond these was a row of hurdles with an open gate, and then a number of obstacles, while a railed pen occupied a corner of the field. Kit gave Grace a card showing the way the sheep must be driven round the different barriers.

"It's a good test, particularly as we can't follow the dogs and they must take each obstacle in its proper turn."

"They are wonderfully clever to understand," said Grace, and stopped when the judge shouted, "Time!"

The farmer called his dog, a handsome smooth-haired collie, that set off with a bound and drove the sheep at full speed towards the furze. As they came up, with fleeces shaking and a patter of little feet, the man ran to the length of the string and waved his stick.

"Away back! Gan away back! T'ither slap, ye fule!"

People laughed when the dog in desperate haste stopped the sheep as they packed outside a hole, but it drove them to the next gap, through which they streamed.