CHAPTER II.
Squire Bell—Annie’s gift of a book—Shooting a New Forest deer—Felony—Chased by a keeper—Capture—Escape—Fight with a bloodhound.
We must now digress a little; the squire that was alluded to in the last chapter, was no British squire at all, but born and bred a colonial. In earlier days he was known as one of the wool kings of Australia, and his “brand” was still to the fore in the home markets. In his native district of “Liverpool Plains,” he was always spoken of and recognized as “the Squire,” a title given him solely on account of his personal appearance. In later years he had taken up additional country to the north of the “Plains,” and a young man who went from England to join him in this new country thus described him in a letter home:—
“Bell calls himself a native, but I don’t believe it, there’s no ‘cornstalk’ look about him; everyone out here refers to him as ‘the Squire,’ and truth to tell he is just like old Squire Mangles, of Greenmount, same red face, hearty laugh, breeches, drab gaiters and all.”
The “Squire,” then, having made a considerable fortune in wool, left an agent to look after the property, came home, and settled down with wife, son, and daughter, in the New Forest; but arriving there, he soon found that it would take ten years or more before the Forest aristocracy were likely to notice him or his wool-sacks; in fact, a candid Irish friend, an old resident, told him that unless he had a handle to his name, they would not notice him at all, but added, “If ye had, me boy, they’d just jostle ye.” To which the squire replied that he did not want to be either jostled or slighted, and that he thought that anyhow, “before he suffered from either the coldness of English society or that of another British winter, he had better get back to his own country.”
During the period that he had been in Hampshire, he had interested himself much concerning the Forest and its breed of ponies, and in this way had come into contact with Mat. He took a great interest in the young man, even to the extent of permitting him to take lessons with his son’s tutor, besides interesting himself in the lad’s general career; and Mat, who had always had a craving for improving his mind, proved himself a ready and apt pupil.
Though this conduct on the part of Bell in taking up young Mat, and admitting him to his home circle, may seem at first sight strange, and indeed, as the squire observed, “It put the dead finish on to the neighbouring gentry,” yet it must be borne in mind that he had little in common with English habits and customs. Those who knew Australia in the early days, before the Victorian gold-rush, and long after that period, will remember that it was not at all uncommon for a man who had just taken up country, not only to be thrown into the society of all sorts, but for him and his family to live with the station hands all together, both in tent-life and afterwards when the station was formed, sitting down to the same table and sleeping under the same roof together, it being a rare exception when these same “hands” did not act and behave as gentlemen, when properly treated.
The squire, though he did not take Mat for a gentleman bred and born, yet saw, on making his further acquaintance, that he was one by nature; and this was sufficient for Bell, who had had so much experience amongst the same class of people. As he said,—
“Mat doesn’t speak the best English, but he doesn’t mind my teaching him, and it’s a real pleasure; he’s so quick at picking anything up.”
And Mat found that his tasks were to his liking. What pleased him most was the fact that he could give a return, in many little ways, for the kindness shown him. One of his chief delights was teaching Master Tom, the squire’s son, how to ride, and also to shoot,—tramping through the forest, and beating up the game for him.
One day Mat and Tom were engaged in this way, when the latter, having been wanted at home earlier than usual, Annie, his sister, was sent after them on her pony. Having found them, she delivered her message, and galloped home again.