The Happy Warrior Part 52

He thought her eyes questioned him and he answered them: "Why have I from the first known some big thing waited him?--it was somehow told me. Why beware?--I am somehow warned."

She turned and began to go away. Come out of the fluttering, she could not at once recall what had pa.s.sed between her and this little man.

j.a.phra put a quick hand on her arm: "Mistress, beware lest thou betrayest him!"

She remembered that.

CHAPTER VIII

A COLD 'UN FOR EGBERT HUNT. ROUGH 'UNS FOR PERCIVAL

I

Ima's nursing, as that doctor had said, brought Percival back from where he had been driven beyond the mark by stress of events and put him firmly afoot along the road of convalescence. Only one circ.u.mstance arose to distress those days of his returning strength--the news of Egbert Hunt.

The a.s.sizes at Salisbury followed quick on the capture of the fugitive--run to earth in a wood by the Blue Boys and the tough boys and brought back like some wild creature trapped--soaked, soiled, bruised, faint, furious, terrified and struggling, for prompt committal by the magistrate.

A newspaper reporter at the a.s.sizes wrote of him as having again that appearance of some wild creature trapped when he stood in the dock before the Judge. The case attracted considerable local interest.

There was first the fact that famous Boss Maddox had narrowly escaped death at the prisoner's hand: there was second the appearance of a n.o.ble lady of the county--Lady Burdon--as witness for the defence.

Gossips who attended the trial said it was precious little good she did the fellow. His conviction was a foregone conclusion. A solicitor with an eye to possibilities who attended Hunt during the police court proceedings learnt from him that he had been in Lady Burdon's service from boyhood and (in his own phrase) promptly "touched her" to see if she would undertake the expenses of a defence. Her reply was in a form to send him pretty sharply about his business and (a man of some humour) he thanked her courteously by having her subpoeaned on the prisoner's behalf--mitigation of sentence was to be earned by her testimony to the young man's irreproachable character during his long years in her service.

It was little of such testimony she gave. Angry at the trick played on her (as she considered it), angry at being dragged into a case of sordid aspect and of local sensation, she went angrier yet into the witness-box for the scene made at her expense by the prisoner as she pa.s.sed the dock. The newspaper reporter who described him as presenting the appearance of a wild animal trapped, wrote of him as having a wolfish air as he glared about him--of his jaws that worked ceaselessly, of his blinking eyelids, and of the perspiration that streamed like raindrops down his face. As Lady Burdon pa.s.sed him the emotions of the public were thrilled to see his arms come suppliant over the dock rail and to hear him scream to her: "Say a word for me, me lady! Say a good word for me! Love o' G.o.d, say--" A warder's rough hand jerked his cry out of utterance, and he listened to her during her evidence, watching her with that wolfish air of his and with those jaws ceaselessly at work.

A cold 'un, the gossips said of her when she stepped down. The Judge in pa.s.sing his stereotyped form of sentence made more seemly reference to her testimony.

"The evidence," the judge addressed the prisoner, "of your former employer--come here reluctantly but with the best will in the world (as she has told us) to befriend you--has only been able to show that you have exhibited from your boyhood upward the traits--sullenness of temper, hatred of authority--that have led you directly to the place where now you stand. It has been made very clear that this crime--only by the mercy of G.o.d prevented from taking a more serious form--was wilful, premeditated, of a sort into which your whole character shows you might have been expected to burst at almost any period of your maturer years. You will be sent away now where you will have leisure, as I sincerely trust, to reflect and to repent.... Five years.... You will go to penal servitude for that term."

Most wolfishly the wolfish eyes watched the judge while these words were spoken; quicker the working jaws moved, lower the poor form crouched as nearer the sentence came. As a vicious dog trembles and threatens in every hair at the stick upraised to strike, so, by every aspect of his mien, Egbert Hunt trembled and threatened as the ultimate words approached. "Penal servitude for that term"--as the dog yelps and springs so he screamed and sprung: a dreadful wordless scream, a savage spring against the dock, arms outflung.

Warders closed about him; but he was at his full height, arms and wolfish face directed at Lady Burdon. "You done it on me!" he screamed. "You might ha' saved me! You--! You--cruel--! I'll do it back on yer! Wait till I'm out! I'll come straight for yer, you an'

your--son! I'll do it on--"

A warder's hand came across his mouth. He bit through to the bone and had his head free before they could remove him. "I've never had a fair chance, not with you, you--Tyrangs!--tyrangs all of yer!--tyrangs!

You're the worst! G.o.d help yer when I come for yer! Tyrangs! ...

Tyrangs!..."

They carried him away.

II

"Oh, five years!--Five years!" Percival cried when he read the news.

"Poor, poor old Hunt! Five years!"

He was sitting comfortably propped in a big chair in the garden behind "Post Offic," Aunt Maggie and Ima with him, and his weakness could not restrain the moisture that came to his eyes. "Five years, Aunt Maggie!

He was one of my friends. I liked him--always liked him. He was always fond of me--jolly good to me. When I think of him with his vegules and his sick yedaches! Five years--poor old Hunt!"

He was very visibly distressed. "Everybody is fond of you, dear," Aunt Maggie said sympathetically.

"That's just it!" he said--"that's just it!" and he threw himself back in his chair and went into thoughts that were come upon him and that her words exactly suited: thoughts that were often his in the days of his sickness when he lay--was it waking or sleeping? he never quite knew. They presented the cheery group of all his friends, all so jolly, jolly good to him. Himself in their midst and they all smiling at him and stretching jolly hands. But a gap in the circle--Mr.

Amber's place. Another gap now--Hunt. It appeared to him in those feverish hours--and now again with new reason and new force--that outside that jolly circle of friends there prowled, as a savage beast about a camp-fire, some dark and evil menace that reached cruel hands to s.n.a.t.c.h a member to itself and through the gap threatened him.

Within the circle the happy, happy time; beyond it some other thing.

Life was not always youth, then? not always ardour of doing, fighting, laughing, loving? Menace lurked beyond.... What?...

But those thoughts were swept away, and fate of poor old Hunt that had caused them temporarily forgotten, by footsteps that brought up the path three figures, of whom two were colossal of girth and bright red of face--one striking at his thigh as if his hand held an imaginary stick--and one that walked behind them lean and brown, with rare bright eyes in a face of many little lines.

"Why, Mr. Hannaford! Mr. Hannaford!" Percival cried delightedly.

"Stingo! Good old j.a.phra!--you've actually brought them!"

They were actually brought; but in the alarming company of women folk--of Aunt Maggie, of Ima, and of Honor, who now, the visit having been expected, came out with a laden tea-table--the tremendous brothers exhibited themselves in a state of embarra.s.sment that appeared to make it highly improbable that they would remain. First having shaken hands all round the circle, colliding heavily with one another before each, Mr. Hannaford declaring to each in turn "Warm--warm--bless my eighteen stun proper if it ain't!" and Stingo repeating some husky throatings of identical sound but no articulation; they then shook hands with one another; then proceeded round the circle again; simultaneously appeared to discover their mistake; collided with shocking violence; and finally relapsed into enormous nose-blowings, trumpeting one against the other, as it seemed, into handkerchiefs of the size of small towels.

It was to abate this tremendous clamour that Aunt Maggie handed a cup of tea to Mr. Hannaford, and it was without the remotest desire in the world to have it there that Mr. Hannaford in some extraordinary way found it on the side of his right hand and proceeded to go through an involved series of really admirable juggling feats with it, beginning with the cup and saucer and ending with the spoon alone, that came to a grand finale in cup, saucer and spoon shooting separately and at tolerable intervals in three different and considerable directions. It was to cover the amazement of the tremendous brothers at this extraordinary incident that Ima handed a piece of cake to Stingo, and it was the fact that Stingo had no sooner conveyed it to his mouth than he abandoned himself to a paroxysm of choking and for his relief was followed about the garden by Mr. Hannaford with positively stunning blows on the back that sent Percival at last from agonies of hopeless giggling to peals of laughter which established every one at their ease.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" from Percival. "I'm awfully sorry--I can't help it. Oh, Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Impossible to resist it: "Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!" thundered Mr.

Hannaford.

"Oh, Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" shook Percival, rolling on his pillows.

"He! He! He! He! He!" came Stingo, infection of mirth vanquishing the contrariness of the cake-crumb.

"Proper good joke!" bellowed Mr. Hannaford, not at all sure what the joke was, but carried away by Percival's ringing mirth. "Proper good joke! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!"; and was chorused in gentler key by j.a.phra--for once--by Aunt Maggie and by Ima.

"He! He! He! He! He! Looks as well as ever he did!" choked Stingo, catching his brother's eye and nodding towards the invalid's chair; and that as masterfully turned the laughter to practical use as the laughter itself had turned dreadful embarra.s.sment into universal joviality. It was the chance for Mr. Hannaford to cry delightedly: "Why, that's just what I was athinking, bless my eighteen stun proper if it isn't!" the chance for the tremendous brothers to overwhelm Percival with the affection and the joy at his recovery with which they had come bursting; the beginning of highest good fellowship all round, of stupendous teas on the part of the tremendous brothers, and at last of explanation of the real project they had made this visit in order to discharge.

It took a very long time in the telling. On the part of Stingo there was first a detailed account (punctuated by much affectionately fraternal handshaking) of how he positively had settled down at last--sold out of the show trade after and on account of the events in which Percival and j.a.phra had shared, and henceforward was devoting his entire energies to the cultivation of the little 'orse farm. There was then from Mr. Hannaford, helped by a ledger that could have been carried in no pocket but his, a description of the flourishing state at which the little 'orse farm had arrived--"Orders for gentlefolks'

little carts' little 'orses apourin' in quicker'n ever we can apour 'em out"--and in which it was monthly advancing more and more; and there was finally a prolonged discussion in fierce whispers between the brothers, interspersed with loud "Don't forget that's" and "Recollect for to tell him this's."

Then Mr. Hannaford turned to Percival, struck his thigh a terrible crack with his ledger, and in a very demanding tone said, "Well, now!"

"Well, I'm awfully--awfully glad," said Percival. "It's splendid--splendid. By Jove, it really is a big thing. But what?--but what--?"

"What of it is," said Mr. Hannaford very solemnly, "that what we want and the errand for what we've come is--we want you!" He turned to Stingo: "Now your bit."

"What of it is," responded Stingo with the huskiness of a lesson learnt by heart and to be repeated very carefully--"What of it is, he's wanted you, told me so, ever since you come over long ago with his late lordship and showed what a regular little pocket marvel you was, but didn't like for to have you until I'd settled down and taken my proper place and given my consent--which I have done and which I do, never having set eyes on your like and never wanting to. Now your bit."

"What of it is," said Mr. Hannaford, bringing himself to the point of these remarkable proceedings with a thigh-and-ledger-thump of astounding violence--"what of it is, we're Rough 'Uns, Stingo an' me.

All right to be Rough 'Uns when it's only little circus 'orses and circus folk you're dealing with--no good being Rough 'Uns when it's gentlefolks' little carts' little 'orses, gentlefolks' little riding little 'orses, and gentlefolks' little polo little 'orses. Want a gentleman for to deal with the gentlefolk and a gentleman for to break and ride and show for the gentlefolk. Want you--an' always have wanted you, bless my eighteen stun proper if we ain't." (Thump!)

Percival was white and then red as the meaning of all the mysterious conduct of the tremendous brothers' errand was thus made clear to him--white and then red and with moisture of weakness in his eyes: why was everybody so jolly, jolly good to him?

"Why, Mr. Hannaford--Stingo--" he began.