The Talking Horse Part 27

Now he found himself in a most delicate position: what if an attack by Red Indians should really be quite possible? Mr. Lambert Jolliffe had certainly not seemed to see anything incredible in the former visit, and, though Clarence had not a very high opinion of his abilities, he was grown up, and was not likely to be misinformed on such a point as that--at all events, he was the best person to consult just then. As he expected, he found him under the big ilex on his back, with his after-breakfast pipe, no longer alight, between his lips.

'Mr. Jolliffe; I say, Mr. Jolliffe,' began Clarence.

Lambert Jolliffe sat up, and fixed his gla.s.s in one drowsy eye. 'Hullo, Sir Garnet--I beg your pardon, Lord Wolseley, I mean. You ought to hear what they're saying at the War Office, I can tell you!'

Praise is sweet, even when we do not deserve it, and Clarence felt a thrill of satisfaction at this somewhat vague tribute.

'I wanted to ask you,' he said, 'should you say that Red Indians were--well, common in England?'

'You have asked me a straightforward question, and I'll give you a straightforward answer,' was the reply. 'Till quite lately I should say they were absolutely unknown in this country.'

Clarence's face brightened; he felt quite fond of Uncle Lambert, and began to think him a particularly well-informed and entertaining person.

'Yes,' continued Uncle Lambert, thoughtfully, 'I must confess I thought it a little unlikely at first that you should have been annoyed by Red Indians; but, of course, when I remembered the Earl's Court Show, I saw at once that it was quite possible.' Clarence felt a cold qualm. He had, as we already know, seen Buffalo Bill's wonderful show, which, indeed, was responsible for much of his recent military enthusiasm. But till that moment, curiously enough, it had not occurred to him to connect the mysterious Wah Na Sa Pash Boo with the denizens of the Wild West whom he had seen careering about the immense arena at Earl's Court.

'Do you mean,' he said, with an effort, 'that you thought some of Buffalo Bill's Indians had managed to _escape_?'

'Well, I don't know any other way to account for such a thing. Do you?'

Clarence did not answer this question directly: 'But,' he objected desperately, 'those were _converted_ Indians. They went to church, and the Lyceum, and all that!'

Uncle Lambert shrugged his shoulders: 'Once an Indian always an Indian!' he said. 'They must have their fling now and then, I suppose, and then the old Adam crops up. And you see,' he added, 'it cropped up in that attack on you the other night. Fortunately for us, and indeed for the whole country, you were prepared for them--otherwise no one can tell what horrors we might not have seen.'

'We may--we may see them yet!' said the hero, gloomily. 'Just look at this, Mr. Jolliffe.'

Lambert took the bark from him, and read it with a thoughtful frown. At last he said:

'Well, I rather expected something of this sort when I saw you posting up all those insulting notices--Indians are so confoundedly touchy, you know.'

'You might have said that at the time, then!' exclaimed the General reproachfully.

Lambert lifted his eyebrows.

'My dear chap, I thought you knew. Wasn't that what you were all driving at?'

'Not me,' said Clarence. 'I was against it from the first. I told them it was caddish to insult a fallen foe, but they would go and stick up those _beastly_ notices.'

'All's well that ends well, eh? You've got a rise out of 'em this time.

I congratulate you, my boy, on getting the chance of a second brush with the Indians. And this time you'll have the army with you.'

'A lot of good they are!' said Clarence, in a m.u.f.fled voice.

'Come, it's not good form for a General to run down his troops; but you heroes are always so modest. I'll be bound, now, you've determined not to mention this in the house till the danger is pa.s.sed?'

'No, I haven't, though. I shall mention it, most likely. Why not?'

'To save them useless anxiety. Because, unless I am wrong, you see cause to apprehend (I must ask you not to conceal anything from me)--to apprehend that this will be a more serious affair than the last?'

'Yes, I do,' replied the General, promptly, 'a good deal.'

'I feared as much,' said Uncle Lambert, with a very grave face. 'But in that case, isn't it as well not to terrify my sister and those poor girls unnecessarily?'

'I don't see that. Mrs. Jolliffe might think we ought to be guarding the inside of the house.'

'Oh,' said Uncle Lambert, 'but I should object to that strongly. You see it's very plain that it's _you_ the Yellow Vulture's after. He won't think of coming near the house unless you're in it, and then what will become of us all?'

'You'll take care you don't get mixed up in it, I can see,' said Tinling, savagely.

'I shall take very good care indeed. Oh, but you must make allowances for me, my boy. Remember, I've not been in military training for days and days, as you have.'

'If that's all, I could get you up in the drill in half-an-hour,'

proposed Tinling, eagerly.

'Thanks, but I have a better reason still. Tastes differ so much. You like to spend your evenings in beating off wild Indians from a stockade.

Now, I prefer a plain, comfortable dinner, and a quiet cigar. I'm not sure that your way isn't the manlier of the two--but it's not nearly so much in my line.'

'Why don't you say you're a funk, and have done with it?' Tinling said rudely.

'My dear young friend,' was the placid answer, 'if Providence has endowed you with a meed of personal courage beyond that of others, it is ungraceful to taunt those who are less fortunate. While I am by no means prepared to admit that I am what you so pleasingly term "a funk," I readily allow that----'

But Tinling did not stay to hear any more; he turned on his heel with an anger that had a spice of envy in it. Why, why had not he been content with an ordinary reputation, instead of one that he must sustain now at all hazards? He could deceive himself no longer; his foolish vanity, which had allowed the army to post those rash defiances, had brought down some real Red Indians upon him, and he was horribly afraid.

As he walked restlessly down the path, a veil seemed drawn across the brilliant sky, the dahlias and 'red-hot pokers' and gladioli in the beds burnt with a sinister glow, the smell of the sweet peas and mignonette seemed oppressive, the bees droning about the lavender patches had a note of warning in their buzz, he felt chilly in the shade and sick in the sun.

He saw nothing for it but fighting, but the idea of facing a horde of howling savages with only two boys younger than himself was too appalling; he must engage recruits, grown-up ones, and with this intention he went to the stable-yard, where he found Chinnock, the coachman, sluicing the carriage-wheels.

'Chinnock,' he began, with an attempt to seem casual and careless, 'we're going to be attacked by Red Indians again to-night.'

Chinnock touched a sandy forelock, as he raised his red grinning face.

'Lor', sir, be you indeed? Well, you young genl'men du have rare goings on down in the paddock, that you du.'

'It's--it's real Red Indians this time, Chinnock--B--black Bogallalas!'

Chinnock had deliberately moved to the harness-room, and Tinling had to repeat his information.

'Ah, indeed, sir! Red Injians? Well, to think o' that!' he said cheerfully, as if he was humouring some rather childish remark.

'But we shall want every available man; do you think you can spare time to come and help?'

"Bout what time, sir?' said Chinnock.

'About nine--half-past eight, say. Do try.'

'Can't come as late as that, nohow, sir. That's my supper-hour, that is. If the mistress don't want the carriage to-day, I dessay I could step down 'bout five for half-an-hour or so, if that would suit.'

'That wouldn't be any use at all, Chinnock; we shan't begin till dark.'

'Then I'm afraid I can't be of no sarvice to 'ee, sir.'