For a while all was still within the calf-house. Darby and Joan slept the profound, dreamless sleep of tired childhood; the dwarf was buried in an oblivion which was as much the stupor of weakness as the blissfulness of sleep. About an hour he remained sunk in sweet forgetfulness of present danger and future difficulties. Then his big head began to bob uneasily up and down, from one side to another, until it fell upon his shoulder with a sudden jerk which only partially aroused him. He opened his eyes with an effort. Where was he, and where was his mother? Surely that was not her voice which broke in so coarsely through the closed door and the hole in the wall? That harsh laugh never burst from her mouth; those ugly words never soiled her pure lips! All at once Bambo started upright, thoroughly awake and trembling with terror. He remembered everything, and for a minute his brave, loving heart died within him as he recognized the voices in the court outside of Thieving Joe and his wife Moll, wrangling with the sleepy landlord for admittance at that unseemly hour to the shelter and comfort of the Traveller's Delight.
The dwarf put his ear to a chink in the door and listened intently. He could not make out what they said, however, but that they were there in hot pursuit of himself and the children Bambo felt not an atom of doubt. Some one must have taken note of the runaways, given Joe and Moll warning, and here they were already on their trail. They would question the landlord; next, search every corner and cranny about the inn for the fugitives. At any moment their hiding-place might be discovered.
CHAPTER XIII.
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.