CHAPTER XXXVI
CHECKMATE
The haversacks were behind him on the bank of the brook. Sam, for his part, turned upon Dick with a ferocious oath, and a fresh demand for the money. Of the whining, puling, weeping Raven they took no notice whatever. No notice! Ah, ha, Messrs. Long Legs and Fiery Nose, you are making the mistake of a lifetime.
No sooner was their attention drawn from him than the Raven made his leap, swift and silent as a charging panther. He darted upon the stout tramp, whose back was towards him, as its owner bent over the haversacks. Chippy placed both hands against a certain portion of the tramp's person which afforded him an excellent purchase, and gave a tremendous shove. Fiery Nose stumbled forward, caught his feet in the haversacks, grabbed wildly in the air to save himself, found nothing to fill his clutch, and pitched head first over the edge of the bank into the deep, slow brook. Crash! Splash! he went into the pool, and the water leapt like a fountain under his terrific plunge. But the Raven did not stay to observe the success of his manoeuvre. Quick as a trout in a stream he was off at full speed, but he had the haversacks tucked safely in his arms.
Round whirled the younger tramp in time to see his comrade hit the water. He swung up his stick for a blow at the nimble gliding Raven, but as he sprang at the scout, Dick thrust his staff between the long legs, tripped him up, and sent him sprawling with his face in the hot, smouldering ashes. Chippy was already racing for the road, and Dick followed at top speed.
In a moment the tramp was on his feet, and dashing the wood ashes out of his eyes and hair. Then he caught up the stick which had flown from his hand and pursued the fugitives, a wild medley of execrations pouring from his lips. In the pool Fiery Nose wallowed and blew like a grampus, and howled for help.
Dick looked back and saw the long-legged tramp covering the ground at a tremendous pace. He was a big, powerful fellow, and was armed with an ugly club. The scouts were not out of the wood yet. They turned a corner and saw the gateway with no gate close before them. An idea shot into Dick's head.
'Run straight ahead, Chippy,' he called. 'Leg it down the road.'
The Raven made no reply. He obeyed orders, feeling sure that his comrade had a reason for what he said.
The boys shot through the gateway, and Dick turned abruptly and dropped down beside it. The gateway was a couple of posts on which a wicket had once swung, nothing more. But a thick bramble-bush grew beside the right-hand post, and in cover of this bush Dick was crouching. He peered through the bush and saw the tramp come tearing round the bend. The rascal saw Chippy disappearing over the bridge, and thought the second fugitive had already vanished. He roared a fresh set of exceedingly impolite remarks and wishes, and came on like a tornado in full career. And as he charged into the narrow gateway, a stout patrol staff slid across, and was laid on the inner sides of the posts. He never even saw it, so madly was he bent on his pursuit, and it did its work to a miracle. He put one foot fairly under it, and as he rose to his wild bound the staff took him a little above the ankle and tripped him up. The surprise was so complete that he could not save himself. He came down headlong on the hard causeway, and ploughed up the gravel for a foot or more with his features.
The crash knocked all the wind out of him: it deserted his body in a fierce whistling sound, something between a grunt and a howl, and he was half-stunned besides, with his nose flattened into his face.
Dick gave a yell of delight, whipped out his staff—the stout bit of tough ash had taken the shock with hardly a quiver—and raced after his comrade. Chippy was a good way down the road, and when he glanced back, Dick waved his stick in triumph. The Raven at once eased to allow his friend to come up, and Dick shouted the glad news as he joined his comrade.
Chippy shouted with delight. 'He's done for,' cried the Raven. 'A1, that was. No more runnin' for 'im just yet. That was splendid, Dick.'
The boys swung their haversacks across their shoulders and continued their way at a steady, loping trot.
'Oh, Chippy,' cried Dick, 'but yours was the splendid dodge, the way you took those fellows in! They never dreamed but that you were sick with fright. How did you manage it?'
'Oo,' said the Raven, 'there ain't nothin' in that. Anybody can mek' believe to cry and beg for mercy, like.'
'Ah,' cried Dick, 'but there were real tears streaming down your face, Chippy. How did you do that?'
'Easy as easy,' replied the Raven. 'Yer just jab yer fingers in the corner o' yer eyes. I'll show yer.'
'Thanks,' laughed Dick. 'I'll take your word for it, old boy. It doesn't sound too delightful.'
'I wonder if the old un's out o' the pool yet,' said Chippy, as they trotted on, and the scouts shouted with laughter as they recalled his terrific plunge.
'The other can go back and help his friend out when he's got his wind again,' said Dick.
'Rough on the pool, though,' muttered the Raven; 'that nose o' his wor enough to mek' the water boil.'
'What luck to lose nothing!' cried Dick.
'Barrin' my stick,' put in Chippy.
'Why, yes,' replied Dick. 'Upon my word, I hadn't noticed that. Of course, your hands were filled with the haversacks, and your staff has been left on the bank where we were resting.'
'Ne'er mind,' said the Raven; 'it's wot we could best afford to lose. Soon cut another.'
The boys did not check their pace until they reached a large village a mile or more from the bridge, and then they dropped into their usual scout's stride.
On the other side of the village they came to another bridge, this time spanning a canal.
'Here we are,' said Dick, for the scouts intended to follow the towpath into Newminster: it would save them a mile and a half of dusty high-road.
They went down to the bank and started off along the side of the canal. It was not a dirty piece of water, malodorous and unsightly, as canals are in manufacturing centres: it was like a straight stretch of a clear, beautiful river. There was a towpath only on the one side. The other was a grassy border, where sedges and bulrushes grew, and cows came down from the meadows to drink.
The scouts had barely gone half a mile when they came upon a barge lying beside the bank. They glanced into its cabin as they went by, and saw that a tiny fire was burning brightly in its stove, and that it was a very trim, smart little place. But there was no bargeman, no horse, no one; the barge seemed deserted. The boys went on, and soon heard cries of anger and distress coming down the breeze. They broke into the scouts' trot, turned a bend, and saw a stout lady pursuing a white horse.
Chippy knew all about canals.
'Broke 'is tow-line, an' now he's 'ookin' it,' observed the Raven. 'Come on—scout's job 'ere.'
The old white horse was not hooking it very fast. There was no need that he should. The stout lady jogged a few steps, then settled into a walk. The old horse cropped the grass beside the water till she was close at his heels, then he jogged off a little and settled down to grazing again. But the active scouts soon settled his hash. They passed the stout lady at full speed, and ran down the old nag within fifty yards. Then Dick led him back to the barge-woman, who was mopping a hot red face with a big red handkerchief.
'Well, I'm more'n a bit obliged to yer,' she panted, 'an' thank ye kindly. The line parted, and I thought I never should ketch that dratted ole creetur. Ah, ye good-for-nuthin',' she cried to the horse, who now held down his nose and looked meekness itself, 'an' the good missis I am to ye. Allus plenty to eat, and no whippin'.'
'He went off on a little beano,' said Chippy soothingly. 'Don't blame 'im. They all will when they get the chance. Now we'll rig 'im for ye tight an' sound.'
The boys led the horse back to his deserted task, fished the broken rope out of the water, and joined the parted ends with a sheet-bend knot, such as all scouts learn to tie.
'Goin' to Newminster?' asked the bargewoman.
'Yes,' said Dick.
'In a hurry?'
'Not particularly,' he said.
'Why not ride along o' me? It ain't fast, but it's as easy as anythin'.'
Now, neither scout would have confessed it to the other for worlds, but each of them was feeling the three days' tramp a little; and besides, the idea of gliding along the river-like canal on the barge, which was very clean and gaily painted, was rather fascinating.
'You're very kind,' said Dick, and glanced at his comrade.
'I'd like it prime,' murmured Chippy.
'Jump on,' said the stout lady; and the scouts were aboard in an instant.
Dick was less familiar with a barge than Chippy, and he inspected with the deepest interest the snug, neat little cabin, as bright and clean as a new pin, with its little stove, its narrow seats, its shelves, and cupboards, with everything stowed away in shipshape fashion, the whole place reminding him of a room in a big doll's house.
Chippy complimented the lady of the barge on the smartness of her ship.
'We keep it as tidy as we know 'ow,' she replied. 'Me an' my 'usband we niver tek' dirty loads—coals, or anythin' like that. Crockery an' earthenware we got under the canvas now'—and she nodded forward—'that's the sort o' load for us. Queer thing the ole horse broke loose this arternoon when I'm by myself, which don't often happen. My man he's gone on to Newminster, an' there we'll stop to-night.' Then she gave her attention to steering the barge round a bend, while the old horse plodded along the bank as meekly as if thoughts of running away could never enter his head.
In a quiet bend of the waterway the bargewoman roared 'Wo!' and the white horse pulled up at once and whickered.
'Time for 'is nosebag,' she said, 'an' 'e knows it very well. An' we'll have a cup o' tea. I allus pull up for that, an' tek' it quiet an' comfortable, wi'out havin' to bother about steerin'.'
She fished out a tin bucket already filled with chaff, and proceeded to climb ashore and hang it round the horse's head.
'Tea for three,' murmured the Raven. 'More grub;' and Dick smiled.
The meal was a very cheerful little affair. The scouts sat on the roof of the cabin in the sunshine, with their cups beside them, and their hostess spread butter liberally on the slices of a large cottage loaf, and encouraged them to eat heartily, and set them a first-rate example herself.
Over the teacups they chatted freely, and the boys explained their movements. Among other things, they narrated their adventure of a few hours ago with the tramps, and the bargewoman was very indignant.
'Lazy good-for-nothin' varmin—that's what I call them tramps!' she cried. 'I know what I'd do wi' 'em. I'd take ivery man-jack of 'em by the scruff o' his neck, an' set him at a job, that I would, as sure as my name's Hester Slade. An' I'd say to him: "When that's done ye'll get sommat to eat, an' not afore." That's wot I'd say. "Work or starve!"' And Mrs. Slade waved the bread-knife above her head, as if it were a sword flourished in defiance of the whole army of tramps in general.