A TERRIBLE FRIGHT.
"No will-o'-the-wisp mislight thee,
No snake or slowworm bite thee,
But on, on thy way,
Not making a stay,
Since ghost there's none to affright thee.
"Let not the dark thee cumber;
What though the moon does slumber?
The stars of the night
Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear without number."
R. Herrick.
Behind the stackyard at the Traveller's Delight the ground dipped down into a hollow, which, even in daylight, was completely screened from the view of any one within the house or about the yard by a great clump or patch of scraggy furze bushes. In this secluded spot there stood a lime-kiln, one of those built somewhat like a low circular tower, with gaping mouth and open roof; but for many a day the kiln had not been used—not since the present tenant entered on possession of the farm at Hanleigh Heath. During the course of these years of disuse nature had been busy beautifying the original ugliness of the structure. Now ivy climbed boldly here and there over the rough mason-work, trails of late convolvulus festooned the opening, hardy hart's-tongue and tufts of parsley fern sprang from every crevice in the stones, while the top was covered with a tangle of briars, nettles, and matted grass. These combined to form a species of thatch which perfectly protected the interior from both wind and rain.
Bambo had come upon this spot long ago. He had, in fact, slept there one night snugly and safely, and thought to himself what a fine hiding-place it would be in case of need, for nobody seemed to go near it. Now, in his dilemma and sore strait, the remembrance of the old lime-kiln came back to him, and he welcomed the idea with joy and gratitude. It would never occur to Joe Harris to seek his runaways in such a spot—he probably did not know of its existence—and the dwarf did not believe that the landlord would take any part in the chase. He surmised, and correctly too, that such a shrewd person would prefer to ignore the claims of friendship to running the risk of bringing the Traveller's Delight under the notice of the authorities, or mixing himself up with what might turn out to be an awkward business.
For what seemed to the watching Bambo a very long time lights continued to burn within the house, while now and again a burst of noisy laughter broke the silence of the night, rising discordantly above the steady, persistent pitter-patter, pitter-patter, drip, drip, drip of the soft, thick autumn rain. At length the darkness and stillness of midnight held the homestead in possession. Even the rain had ceased to fall; not a sound was to be heard except the dwarf's hoarse, laboured breaths and the gentle, regular breathing of the sleeping children.
Gradually and cautiously Bambo awoke Darby. For a minute or two the little fellow could not make out where he was; but in a few hurried whispered sentences the dwarf made him understand how near and how dire was the danger which threatened them—how absolutely needful it was for them to be quick, and to be wary in their attempt if they meant to escape.
Without arousing Joan, Bambo lifted her up from her nest among the straw, and keeping her still well wrapped up in his own worn jacket, he held her easily in his arms. Then, with Darby pressing close beside him, they crept noiselessly forth from the shelter and warmth of the cosy calf-house.
By this time the moon rode high in a soft gray-blue sky, shedding a flood of pale, pure radiance on all things, touching the homely, commonplace details of the farmyard with a love-like caress until they were idealized into objects of wonder and beauty. But Bambo had no eyes just then for admiring nature's marvellous transformation scenes; the work in hand occupied his whole attention. He barely glanced at the moon, although he was well aware of her presence, which he considered rather unfortunate, and heartily wished it had been still dark, because then their movements would have been more certain to escape notice.
Slowly and stealthily they moved from the cover of the door, keeping well within the shadow cast by the walls of the outhouses. Step by step they stole along until they reached the greater security of the stackyard. There they were beyond view from the windows, supposing any one were looking out, which was hardly likely. Inch by inch they crawled across the bright patch of a hundred yards or so between them and the clump of friendly furze bushes. There they paused to take breath and look about them. There was nobody at their heels; nothing in sight except the sheep huddled in heaps for shelter behind the low stone dikes, and the young cattle herding in groups here and there over the wet, glistening fields. In the hollow below lay the place of refuge for which they were bound. And just as Bruce's plucky spider made that "bold little run at the very last pinch" which "put him into his native spot," so one quick rush down the incline in front of them landed the fugitives inside the empty lime-kiln, where they were safe, for the moment at least, with a roof over their heads, a dry green floor beneath their feet, on which they could stretch their weary limbs.
But afterwards! The inn seemed wrapped in slumber just then. The landlord would be back in his bed. Joe and Moll might have left—gone off in another direction, disappointed at not finding the fugitives or any news of them at the Traveller's Delight on their arrival; or possibly they were resting, with the intention of making a thorough search through the premises in the daylight next morning. This was the more probable explanation of how matters actually stood; at the same time, Bambo had no sense of security that it was the correct one. At that very moment their enemies might be prowling from barn to byre, from cart-shed to stable in pursuit of their prey. They would undoubtedly explore the stackyard. Next, they would notice the furze bushes. They would poke and peer among them and about them. Failing to find what they sought, they would be sure to look this way and that, up and down, until their eyes lighted upon the lime-kiln. Then—
Here the dwarf drew a quick breath, set his teeth hard, and again asked himself what was to be done next.
The children were worn out. Joan sobbed from time to time in her sleep, and brave, strong-souled little Darby shivered with cold and fright, while he pressed closer and closer to the dwarf's side for warmth and protection. As for Bambo himself, he was feeling extremely ill. The fever that raged in his blood cracked his lips and parched his tongue, until it felt in his mouth like so much dry sponge. His breathing had become so laboured from the sharp, shooting pains in his chest and back that it was only with difficulty he could speak; while his hot hands shook, and his thin, stunted limbs trembled beneath the weight of his big, ungainly body. He wondered what would happen if he were not able to go any further! What would become of the boy and little missy if he were to die there in the kiln before morning? Alas! there could be but one answer to that question, with Moll Harris and Thieving Joe hovering around like hawks about a nest of doves. But no; God was not going to deliver them up to the destroyers in any such fashion. After having brought them thus far on their way in safety, He would surely see them over the rest of the road; and Bambo took heart again. They would rest where they were until dawn; then one more effort would surely bring them to some farm or decent cottage. He would tell the children's story, and perhaps a cart or other conveyance could be found to take them on to Firgrove; some one, at least, there would surely be willing to hasten to inform the ladies of the whereabouts of the two wee wanderers.
Thus far the dwarf's thoughts ran readily on, then stopped in confusion. Further they would not seek to penetrate, and it did not matter. Once the little ones were safe with their friends he should have plenty of time to think about himself. Then he would be free to lie down in some quiet spot and sleep away some of the weakness and weariness which every moment threatened to overpower him. Sleep! oh, if he could only sleep until the racking pains in his chest were better! Sleep—sleep—sleep! and perhaps it might even be permitted him not to wake at all until he had reached that land whose inhabitants are never sick, and the people who dwell therein are forgiven their iniquity.
"I'm afraid your cold is worse," whispered Darby at length through the silence, that was broken only by Joan's sobbing sighs and the dwarf's hoarse breathing, which every moment became more painful and more difficult.
"Ay, I think it is," answered Bambo, giving the little fellow's hand a grateful squeeze. "But don't you fret about Bambo, deary; he'll soon be all right, never fear, once you and missy are safe at home."
"Are we far from the canal here, Mr. Bambo?" Darby again asked, after a long pause, during which the dwarf thought he had fallen asleep.
"Yes—no—well, let me see," said the dwarf thoughtfully. "Why, it's just a matter of about two miles as the crow flies, over the fields on the other side of the inn."
"Could we walk as the crow flies?" demanded Darby eagerly. "That is—of course—well, you know what I mean," and the little lad smiled and coloured in the darkness.
"Ay, there's nothing to hinder, so far as I know. Why are you asking, deary?"
"Because I've been thinking that if we could get there—and Joan should be able to walk that length easily, I'm sure, after this nice long sleep she's having—the man would let us into the boat, and that would take us home without tiring you any more. Or we could slip on board when he wasn't looking. You know that's how we came," added the boy, with an amused little chuckle.
The dwarf did not answer immediately.
"Well, sonny, I wouldn't say but you're about right," he replied at length. "I never thought of going by the canal, knowing as how the boat's not allowed to carry passengers. But if we were to tell the man in charge where we're bound for, and explain things a bit to him, it's more than likely he'd stretch a point and take us to Firdale. And if he refuses, we could do just as you say—slip in at the next stopping-place without anybody being anything the wiser.
"Bless you for a wee wisehead!" gasped Bambo, in his hoarse, quavering voice, at the same time drawing the child still closer to his side. "You've put new life into me. Here I've been fearing as how I should never reach Firgrove, and blaming the Lord for forgetting us. And now, out of the mouth of a babe, so to speak, He brings the very plan that will be easiest and best for us all," and tears of joy and thankfulness trickled down the poor creature's hollow, fevered cheeks.
"We needn't go just yet, not for ever so long," said Darby, quite proud of his post of commander-in-chief for the time being. "The boat leaves Barchester early, early in the morning, but she doesn't reach Engleton till about eight o'clock. I've talked with Mrs. Grey of the Smiling Jane lots and lots of times, so I know. She reaches Firdale some time in the evening. We'll be home in time for tea. Oh, won't it be lovely!" said Darby, clasping his hands in ecstasy.
"Ay!" assented Bambo, earnestly, solemnly. It was not of the tea he was thinking, however, but of the deep satisfaction and gratitude with which he would hand over his charges to their proper guardians. "And now you must try and sleep a while, sonny, like missy here. See, lie down on this nice dry place, and you can lean your head on Bambo's knee."
"You must rest too," coaxed Darby sweetly. "You are so good to us, yet you never think of yourself. Wait, see if we won't take care of you when we go to Firgrove! Aunt Catharine will soon cure your cough. She's fine for doctoring, though she is so—so—"
"Don't fret about me, sonny; I'll rest plenty by-and-by, never you fear," and with that strange smile lighting up his pale, plain face, a smile which to look upon—only now it was too dark—made Darby feel as if he were in church or had newly finished saying his prayers, the dwarf watched until the little lad's heavy eyelids drooped over his tired eyes.
Soon he would have been, like Joan, fast asleep. Bambo also was hovering on the undefined borderland, when the sound of footsteps from the field above the kiln caught his quick ear, and with a sudden jerk of his great head he sat up to listen. At the same time a flare of light from a lantern streamed over the top of the kiln, and loud, angry voices rose upon the still night air in quarrelsome tones.
"I ain't goin' prowlin' about here no longer, Joe Harris, I tell ee," said Moll shrilly. "I've tramped at yer heel for the last twelve hours a'most, till I'm ready to drop, an' now you'd keep folks from their proper sleep all for nought!"
"Stow yer cheek, I say, or it'll be the worse for you," growled Mr. Harris savagely. "I'm goin' to fin' them kids an' that rascally imp o' a dwarf wherever they are, an' you're goin' to help me. They come this way, right enough—there's no mistake about that—an' where else would they be but here? There's not another spot they could shelter for miles an' miles."
"Fin' 'em, then, if you can!" snapped Moll sharply. "Anyhow, I'm goin' away to my bed like a decent Christ'an woman. Come along, Joe, do," she urged, with a swift change of tone. "You can have another look roun' in the mornin' if you must. But if you'd take my biddin'—only that's what you never do—you'd let 'em go back where they come from."
"Shut up!" commanded Joe, in the same savage tone as before. "Haven't I told you agin an' agin that I'll never let 'em escape—not if we were to swing for't!" he added grandly. Then he went on in a wheedling sort of way. "Here, old girl, take the lantern an' look down below there; you've sharper sight nor me. Pullen, he says as there's a tumble-down lime-kiln in that hollow. Bambo ud hardly hit on't; but it's best to make sure."
Moll snatched the lantern from her lord's hand with an extremely bad grace, and an exclamation which sounded very like "Bad luck to Pullen an' the Traveller's Delight!" For she heartily disliked the mission upon which they were bound—the recovery of the captives. Having had frequent experience of her husband's furious temper and the weight of his fists, she dared not directly refuse to aid him; but from the bottom of her heart she hoped the two sweet innocents would never fall into his clutches again.
"Better for them to be dead!" muttered Moll passionately, as, lantern in hand, she nimbly slid down the shiny wet slope to the lime-kiln. "The little lass, leastways," she added in a softer voice. And as the memory of Joan's freely-bestowed kiss fell upon the woman's half-awakened heart like the touch of an angel's finger, a tear trembled on her long black lashes, and a wordless prayer winged its way through the inky darkness of the murky sky—a prayer which in heaven was understood to indicate a struggling soul's yearning after better things.
Straight and swift to the mouth of the kiln came Moll, the lantern flinging its trail of light from side to side as she moved. At length she paused opposite the opening, darted inside, looked about, and stopped short with a smothered cry as her keen eyes discerned the little group huddled in the far corner.
"Whish!" was all she said. Then she laid a finger on her lip, pointed upwards, and whispered, "Joe!"
Neither Bambo nor Darby moved or spoke, and Joan slept on. They were too frightened to do anything but stare at Moll in astonishment, wondering, yet thankful, because she seemed disposed to be so friendly.
Moll put the lantern on the ground, fumbled for an instant in a huge hold-all that hung beneath her skirt, whence she produced a handful of coppers with a hunch of bread and cheese. These she silently handed to the dwarf, who grasped her hand and murmured a fervent "God bless you, Moll!" Then moving forward to where the sleeping child lay upon the grass, the woman dropped on her knees beside her, bent down until her face was on a level with the little one's, and reverently pressed her lips to one of the small hands that were flung in a position of perfect grace across the folds of the dwarf's worn brown jacket.
"Wait here till everything quiet," she breathed, leaning towards Bambo's ear; "then fly for yer lives. Joe's as mad as mad! Make for the canal. Bargee'll take ye on board if you tell him that these is the runaways the beaks was on the hunt for. But don't split on us—leastways, not if you can help it," added Moll, suddenly remembering how little reason she had to expect mercy at the dwarf's hands. "An' now farewell! Don't forget that Moll tried to do ye a good turn when she had the chance." And giving Darby's head a rough pat, and casting another long look upon the unconscious Joan, the woman clambered up the slope almost as quickly as she had come down.
"Mercy me!" they heard her exclaim in accents of annoyance; "if this bloomin' old lantern hasn't gone out! What ever'll you do, Joe?"
"Fool!" shouted Joe angrily. "Why, get it lighted agin, to be sure. Come, hurry up. I ain't agoin' to stay here for ever."
"No more be I," answered his wife coolly. "You've burrowed enough roun' in this direction, surely; leastways I have, an' now I'm goin' to get some sleep. If you want that thing lighted, you can do it yerself, for I won't. There!"
Directly after the dwarf heard her rapid steps retreating in the direction of the hostelry, and again he blessed Moll Harris in his heart; for he knew full well that the lantern had not been extinguished accidentally, but by a quick-witted woman's willing fingers.