These and many other disquieting thoughts rose in the boys mind. He bitterly repented of his folly, and no longer considered himself a hero. He pitied the donkey with all his heart; and if he had not shrunk from provoking the derision of his uncivil and hard-hearted minions, he would have drawn it out of the well and turned it loose.
Thus we get an insight into Stephen’s nature. His love of fun often ran away with his better judgment; but as soon as the mischief was done, he suffered, more than any one believed, from the agony of remorse.
But he roused himself and said, “Now, who will slide down on the rope and set the donkey free? Of course we mus’n’t go away and leave the poor beast tied fast; for it might get sick and die if it couldn’t move. You agreed to do it, Pat Murphy.”
“I reckon we want our ropes and things back again, anyway,” growled a practical strap owner.
“Certainly,” Stephen assented, with a faint smile. “Well, Pat?”
“Shure an’ I’m willin’ to stick to my bargain; only make haste, for mebby the old feller ’ll be after prowlin’ around to look to his beasts.”
This was enough to disquiet every member of the “gang.” One excitable boy, a famous seer of ghosts, instantly beheld a myriad of Jacksons, hobgoblins, and banshees, hovering dangerously near. In his terror he uttered a cry of deprecation—which so dismayed little Pat, who was then in the act of descending, that he lost his hold on the rope and had a fall of several feet. But the soft boughs and the ass so broke his fall that he received no hurt.
Honest Pat’s mind must have been disturbed by a presentiment; for, just at this conjuncture, Mr. Jackson, who was taking a by-path to the village, entered the field from another direction. Being still at a distance, he could not make out the boys clearly, but he could hear their voices. Now, this Mr. Jackson was not famed for his discretion; and instead of creeping upon them slyly, he hallooed at them from the place where he stood.
Then, for the first time, the boys caught sight of him, and a panic, which soon became a stampede, ensued. Setting up a dismal shriek of consternation, the whole “gang” dashed to the fence, squeezed through it, and ingloriously fled.
Little Pat heard the hurly-burly, and, clutching the rope, attempted to scramble out of his narrow quarters. But, alas! no one was holding the upper end of this rope, and it had not been made fast; consequently, it rattled down into the well, leaving Pat a prisoner. Poor little Pat! Believing he was deserted, he gave way to despair, yelled like a fish peddler, and frisked about like an untutored dancer, now on the boughs, now on the donkey, beating time to his piteous yet horrible screams for mercy. This loosened the strap round the donkey’s snout; and an horrisonous bray of righteous indignation smote upon the night air, lending variety to a scene already sufficiently ludicrous. But one bray was not enough to relieve the donkey’s pent-up emotion, and between its bellowing groans Pat might be heard vociferating shrilly, “Tain’t me! I ain’t done nothin’! I never did! It’s him! It’s Steve! It’s Ste-e-e-ve!”