Then Harry uprose, and stepped carelessly to Baker, whom he cast to the floor with one well-directed push.
“You’re a plucked ’un,” said the giant, surveying Max grimly; “an’ look ’ere, you’re a proper Doc’ an’ you’ve arned your pay. My mates an’ me”—Harry glanced rapidly round—“we’ll keep that tale o’ yourn in our ’eads to-night. We’ll take turns to watch Bell’s door, and—my word on’t,”—he thumped his great fist on the table,—“that skunk Joe sha’n’t set ’is foot inside till you give ’im leave.”
A roar of confirmation from Harry’s mates set Max’s mind at rest.
“Ah, thank you, Harry!” said Max in real gratitude; “I thought you’d want to help poor Mrs. Baker. And thank you all,” added the boy merrily, “for being so kind to me. We had a jolly song, hadn’t we? I shall call on Hal Tatton for another next time I see him.”
“You’ll get it so soon as ye asks, master,” returned the grinning Tatton. “I’m not forgetting the way ye cured that sprained wrist o’ mine—I’ll stand by Bell.”
“And me!” “And me!” shouted the voices of many rough fellows who had met with kindness from the good Doctor or his son.
“Then thank you all again, and good-bye!” cried Max. The men stood silent, watching him as he went. He had brought with him into the wretched place a glimpse of brightness, and the loafers of Lumber’s Yard were sorry to see him go.
Harry the giant kept his word, and told off his retainers to mount guard by turns over the cottage where Bell lay moaning. By and by he found it simpler to lock Joe Baker into a shed behind his cottage, giving him plenty of sacks to keep him warm, and a liberal supply of food, collected from the neighbours. In this fashion Joe was kept out of mischief until Bell was up and about again; when Harry’s elementary sense of justice assured him that he had kept his bond with Max and had no further right to interfere for the present in the marital affairs of the Bakers.
During the long hours of his imprisonment, Joe’s memory of Max’s successful plan stirred the drunken scamp to bitter hatred and a passionate desire for revenge. But he knew that to raise a finger against “the young Doc’” would be to set the whole village in a fury; and dread for the results on his own person made him sulk and scowl in secret.
Max, on that eventful evening, went from the “Jolly Dog” straight back to the Bakers’ cottage. There, as he had hoped, he found his father, and the pair walked home in company.