The Slowcoach Part 18

Matthew reached the Hall a few minutes after the Captain and two of the Roundheads had ridden off. The first person he saw was Philip, who, with the three boys and little Jack, were plotting together in the shrubbery.

"Hullo, Matt!" cried Philip; "come here. We want you."

Matthew turned aside from the carriageway, and joined the little group.

They all looked profoundly grave and important.

"What is it, young master?" said the blacksmith. "And where's Mistress Barbara? Don't say she's ill."

Then Philip told him the story, omitting all reference to the refugee, whose existence was a secret to the other boys, from the arrival of the Captain to his departure, ending:

"And at this very moment, Matt, there are three Roundhead soldiers on guard in the Hall--two at the doors, and one standing--can you believe it?--standing at my sister's door. I've fought him once," Philip continued, "but he's too strong, and now the others are keeping us out of the house, and we've charged them several times, but without doing any good, and there are a thousand reasons why we shouldn't any of us be hurt."

"But where are the grooms and gardeners?" Matthew asked.

"Oh, they all disappeared," said Philip. "I suppose they feared an inquiry might be dangerous. It's bad for the health and reputation to fight a Roundhead."

Matthew laughed grimly. "It's bad for the Roundhead's health if he runs against this," he said, raising the iron bar.

At this moment Jack interrupted. "See, Phil," he cried, "Barbara's waving to you at the window."

It was so. They all glanced up, and at the window Barbara's pale face was visible.

A sudden thought came to Philip, and, leading Matthew into the open, he pointed to the blacksmith, and threw an inquiring look to his sister.

She hesitated a second or two, and then nodded yes with cheery emphasis, so Philip led Matthew away and supplemented the story he had already told him with the startling announcement that all the time there actually was a fugitive Cavalier in the house.

Matthew Hale whistled; he had no words.

"And he must reach Portallan," said Philip, "to catch the midnight tide. Three of us are going to ride with him, and he takes Rupert's clothes. We should have got him away finely if it hadn't been for these soldiers."

"Then we must smash the soldiers," said Matthew simply. "How many are they? Three, and one of them upstairs. And we are five, not counting Master Jack. Very well. So long as they don't use gunpowder, we can beat them."

In a few minutes the old soldier had sketched out a plan of action.

G.o.dFREY FAIRFAX AGAIN PAUSED.

"IT'S GETTING RATHER GOOD," SAID ROBERT.

"HOW SPLENDID IF WE COULD HAVE A CIVIL WAR NOW!

"I LIKE MATTHEW HALE BEST," SAID GREGORY.

"ARE THEY REALLY GOING TO FIGHT? ARE THE BOYS REALLY GOING TO KILL ANYONE? IT'S SO ROTTEN IN MOST STORIES, BECAUSE THEY ONLY TALK ABOUT IT."

"WAIT," SAID THE AUTHOR.

The sentinels were stationed each at one door at the back of the house, twenty or thirty yards apart. The princ.i.p.al entrance they had locked, so that there remained to guard only the two doors into the courtyard.

Their instructions were to permit the boys to pa.s.s in and out, and to ride off at evening unmolested, but the attacks made upon them prompted the additional precaution to keep the aggressive four out of the house altogether. The two men walked up and down at their posts, and occasionally exchanged a remark together, and occasionally threw a glance at the shrubbery. They seemed, however, to feel no apprehension.

"Can any one of you climb?" the blacksmith asked suddenly.

"I can," said Jack.

"Famous!" said the blacksmith; "then come with me." So saying, he led the way down the shrubbery until the front of the house was in view.

"Now," he added, "you shall climb that pipe." And he pointed to a pipe by the doorway. "The ivy will help you."

"And when I am at the top?" Jack asked.

"When you are at the top," said the blacksmith, "you will loosen a stone and drop it on the head of one of your friends yonder"--indicating the courtyard with a jerk of his head. "That will settle him. At the same moment I'll overwhelm the other. We must prevent them firing at any costs. But don't miss him, whatever you do, or we are worse off than before."

"No," said Jack, "I shall aim very carefully. I will wait till he is exactly underneath, and then, plob! It will get him on his topknot."

The ivy was, of course, out of sight of the two sentries so long as they stayed at their posts; but, as anyone who knows Myddelton Hall, which is little altered since that time, will understand, a very trifling extension of his beat would bring one of them into a position to command the carriagedrive which Jack had to cross to get from the shrubbery to the house. However, the boy sauntered off, looking as aimless as a piece of floating thistledown, and gained the house unperceived. Directly he was past the soldiers' line of vision he became brisker, and in a few minutes the party in the shrubbery, who had by this time returned to their original post, and at the point in the bushes nearest to the sentries, saw him scrambling over the roof.

"If he were hurt," said the blacksmith, "the Colonel would never forgive me."

"He's climbed that too often for danger of accidents," said Philip.

Jack was now crawling along a coping just over the farther sentry, and they watched him picking out the mortar from between two big stones with his knife. In five minutes he had it loose, and, grasping it with both hands, he pushed it close to the edge, and then peeped over. The soldier was some yards from the plumb. Jack looked down at the shrubbery for guidance. The smith raised his hand to signify patience.

Jack waited. Breathlessly the ambushed party watched the two soldiers, who were now talking together. Would they never return to their doors?

Five anxious minutes pa.s.sed, and then, with a look round, Jack's man began to move nearer his position under the coping. Once he stopped, and, retracing half a step, called out a facetious after-thought. The boys grunted impatiently, and the blacksmith swore in his beard. Then the soldier took another step back, laughing at his wit, yet moving irresolutely, as though he had another word or two to add to the joke.

After this his progress backwards was steady.

At last, when he was within a yard of the precise spot, and not one of the attacking party had a grain of patience left, the smith dropped his hand, and Jack toppled the stone over the edge. It fell with a terrible swiftness; the soldier completed his yard of step, and the block took him, not on the crown, but on the right shoulder. It was, however, enough. Down he fell without a sound.

His companion, glancing up at the instant, saw him fall, and, leaving his matchlock, ran to his a.s.sistance. At the same moment the smith and the boys rushed from the shrubbery. The soldier, running towards his friend, observed them approaching, checked himself in bewilderment, and then swung round on his heel and made for his weapon. But Matthew was too quick for him. The smith was quite twenty yards distant, but, gathering himself together, he flung out his arm, and with all his might threw the iron bar at the retreating sentry. The missile sped true; over and over it twisted in the air, and, catching the soldier with a horrid thud in the back, laid him low.

"Hurrah!" cried Philip.

"Hurrah!" cried Jack, peering down from the roof as the others bound the two wounded men with ropes. It was quickly done, and they were hauled into the stable and secured safely therein, and old Digger told off to watch them and mind them as well as he might.

"Now we can go ahead," was Matthew's comment, grimly uttered, as he opened the door. Philip was for accompanying him, but Matthew said no.

"In a minute or two I will be back with your sister," he added. "I want to settle the other man alone. I have a few scores to pay off."

He sprang up the stairs three at a bound, grasping his iron bar firmly, and at last came to Barbara's landing. There before the door stood the Roundhead, who evidently had heard nothing of the disturbance below.

"Ha, smith," he cried, on spying Matthew, "what are you looking for?"

"I came to have a little talk," said Matthew easily, taking in his man with a quick glance.

"Well, then, you had best descend those stairs again," replied the soldier; "I'm in no mood for talking."

"Now, that's curious," said Matthew genially, leaning against the wall, "because I am. I never felt more disposed to conversation in my life."

The soldier scowled and fingered his matchlock.

"But perhaps," Matthew continued, darting forward suddenly, and with a blow of the iron bar knocking the gun from the man's hand--"perhaps a little tussle would be more to your liking. I have a mind to smash your face. What do you say?"