Two Little Travellers Part 20

ADIEU!

"We need love's tender lessons taught As only weakness can; G.o.d hath His small interpreters-- The child must teach the man.

"Of such the kingdom! Teach Thou us, O Master most divine, To feel the deep significance Of these wise words of Thine!

"The haughty eye shall seek in vain What innocence beholds; No cunning finds the key of heaven, No strength its gate unfolds.

"Alone to guilelessness and love That gate shall open fall; The mind of pride is nothingness, The childlike heart is all."

WHITTIER.

Six o'clock had chimed from the church tower, and already the sun's rays were falling slantwise across the water, and tingeing the kingly heights of Arran with a royal purple radiance.

On a bench, somewhat removed from the bustle and the hubbub, Major Dene sat smoking and dreaming. He had come out a little while before to seek the children, who, along with Perry, were enjoying the fresh sights and novelties to the full. From where he lounged he could see them standing on the fringe of a crowd that had rapidly collected on the road right in front of one of the hotels.

It was not a safe stand for little people; not a fitting place for them to be, either. Perry should have more sense and less curiosity, thought Major Dene, as he sent the stump of his cigar hissing and sputtering into the placid blue water at his feet, and rose to join the children and accompany them home; for it was their tea-time, and going on quickly for the dinner-hour at Westfield, the comfortable house where the family from Firgrove had temporarily taken up their abode.

All this time the youngsters had been straining and tiptoeing to get a glimpse at whatever was causing so much interest and excitement amongst those of the pleasure-seekers who were fortunate enough to have a peep.

Just then the crowd swayed and split, so that through the opening they had an uninterrupted view of the performers who had drawn about them so many of the sightseers.

They numbered three--an ugly red-haired man, with coa.r.s.e features and squint eye, armed with a heavy-handled dog-whip; a tall, black-browed, sad-faced woman; and a bear, big, brown, s.h.a.ggy, and savage-looking.

For one long moment the children gazed at the group as if spellbound.

Then, with a ringing cry from Joan and a choking sob from Darby, they instinctively clutched at each other's hands and fled in the direction of the open ground beside the water, coming bang up against their father just as he was sauntering slowly forward to join them.

"Daddy, daddy! the bear, the bear!" screamed Joan, hiding her small, scared face against her father's arm, burrowing her fluffy head beneath his coat like a frightened rabbit.

"Do you know what the people over there are staring at, father?" asked Darby, in a low, strained voice, while his lips quivered so that he could hardly articulate the words. "It's Joe, father, Thieving Joe--Joe Harris and Moll! They've got Bruno with them--the bear, you remember--and he's dancing and capering. But there's foam at his mouth, and his eyes are glittering; for Joe's raging at him just the way he used to do, and lashing him on his legs with the long whip. Oh, it's dreadful!" and the boy shuddered, more at the recollection of past terror than in fear of present danger. His father's strong fingers were folded firmly round his little hand; so he held up his head and tried to feel brave.

"Are you sure?" asked Major Dene, in a queer, tense tone--a tone which Darby had never heard from his father in all his life before.

"Quite, quite sure," answered the boy decidedly. "Do you think I _could_ be mistaken?"

"And I's sure too," added Joan, lifting her head for the first time, and looking timidly about her with wide, tearful blue eyes, as if she expected to see Bruno waiting to play at hide-and-seek with her from behind her father's back. "I'd like to speak to Mrs. Moll, 'cause she heard me say my p'ayers and put me to bed. But I don't want never to see that howid Joe or the dwedful big bear no more. Please pwomise you won't let them come near us, daddy!" she begged in piteous accents.

"Take the children home at once--directly," said Major Dene to Perry, who, breathless and flushed, at this point joined them, with Eric kicking and struggling in her arms, quite cross, because he wanted a longer look at the huge beast, which in his baby eyes appeared neither more nor less than a great big p.u.s.s.y cat.

"Please, sir--" began Perry; but the expression of her master's face checked the words, whatever she had intended to say, on the woman's lips, and obediently she drew the little ones away. It was such a look as his men might have seen in their commander's eyes as he doggedly led them on to avenge some of the blood that has flowed so free and red to enrich the arid plains of South Africa, at the cost, alas! of the impoverishment of many a desolated heart. But none of his home folks had ever seen those frank, smiling eyes snap and sparkle in the way they did now, like broken steel; not one of them would have imagined that those almost boyish features could set in such stern, grim lines as they fell into while he waited for the much and long desired interview with the rascal who had tried to rob him of his children.

Major Dene stood and watched until Perry and her charges had turned up a side street that would take them straight to Westfield. Then grasping his tough Malacca firmly in his supple fingers, he strode swiftly forward to face the foe.

As he came close to the mob of people around the performers there arose a hoa.r.s.e shout, mingled with shrill screams and piercing cries. Then the crowd surged, broke, scattered, and fled hither and thither in panic, until, in an incredibly short time, there were only about half a dozen who stood their ground to watch the closing scene in the final exhibition given by the remaining members of the old Satellite Circus Company.

It was, in truth, a gruesome spectacle! A huge beast--maddened to fury by the sharp lashes of a stinging whip, blinded by the blows that had fallen thick and fast about his head and ears, goaded by the memory of years of cruelty and brutality--crushing to death in his hairy embrace his tormentor, as together they rolled over and over in the thick white dust of the village street, not a sound breaking the awesome silence but the fierce, deep growling of the savage bear and the wild, hysterical weeping of a terrified woman.

For one brief, breathless moment Major Dene held back, gazing in horror at the unequal combat. Then, forgetting everything except that there on the ground before him was a fellow-creature in dire need of help, he sprang to the rescue. With one hand he tried to drag the brute off its victim by the leather collar that encircled its neck, while with the cane, which he still held in the other hand, he belaboured it smartly about the snout and eyes. Fired by one man's courage, several others came to his a.s.sistance, and among them they at length succeeded in securing Bruno. But not before his thirst for revenge was satisfied; for when Joe Harris was lifted and laid gently down upon the soft greensward alongside the sea, one glance was sufficient to show the medical man, who was quickly on the spot, that he was beyond the reach of human aid.

Yea, verily, "whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."

"Couldn't we help poor Mrs. Moll somehow, father?" suggested Darby next morning, after their father had briefly told the children that Thieving Joe was dead, and Bruno had been taken in charge by an enterprising organ-grinder, who, shrewdly surmising the real state of feeling between the brute and his late master which had led to such an awful tragedy, promised to be answerable for his good behaviour in the future. "She tried to help us as well as she knew how. Bambo thought so too."

"Let us take her back to Firgrove wif us, Aunt Catharine," coaxed Joan; "she can do heaps and heaps of fings, I know."

"I'm afraid that would hardly do, little one," answered Aunt Catharine, shaking her head. "But we'll think it over, and do the kindest thing we can for the poor creature."

The following day Major Dene and his aunt bent their steps towards the village, intending to seek out Moll, have a talk with her, and befriend her in whatever way should seem wisest and best. But although they sought high and low, peering inside canvas caves, walking boldly into booths and marquees, haunting Aunt Sally alleys and shooting galleries, inquiring of her probable whereabouts from any likely person they saw, Mrs. Harris was not to be found. She must, they concluded, have caught a glimpse of Darby and Joan, taken fright, and, fearful of consequences, made off.

So there was an end of all kindly intentions towards poor Moll, who, under other circ.u.mstances, might have been a better woman. And who can say that after her husband's tragic death, aided possibly by the altered conditions of her life, she would not henceforth endeavour to live more honestly than she had done hitherto? Certainly Aunt Catharine hoped she would, but Joan _believed_ she should. And for some subtle, inexplicable reason Darby felt that Joan was right.

If you journey some day through the heart of happy England, it may be that you will come upon the village of Firdale, and not far away, sheltering snugly in the hollow below Copsley Wood, the old-fashioned, handsome homestead of Firgrove.

Darby and Joan are a big boy and girl now. Eric is in knickerbockers, and trots quite proudly up the hill to Copsley Farm and down again, all by his own self! There is a bright, clever governess at Firdale, and Joan has quite left off dolls. Even Miss Carolina, the well-beloved, has long since ceased to charm. Darby is at school--a real, proper boys'

school, as he says, where they have forms and f.a.gs, masters and mischief in plenty.

But he and Joan still preserve their spirits pure, simple, single, childlike, as they were on that bright October morning when, hand in hand, they set out to seek the Happy Land.

And now, having accompanied them so far, let us wish them for the remainder of their journey "_Bon voyage!_" and thus take leave of our Two Little Travellers.