Chapter Eleven.
Bumpitty Bump.—The Wopses.
For two or three days Fred remained very unwell, as might easily be supposed from the shock he had received; but the boys spent the greater part of the days with him reading or playing, and in the evenings came Mr and Mrs Inglis to sit in his bedroom, when Mr Inglis told them natural history anecdotes, or talked about the wondrous changes of insects in so interesting a manner, that the little auditory heard him with the most rapt attention.
On the second evening, in answer to a question, Fred related how it was he managed to be carried away by the stream. It appeared that it was through a sudden fright; for, while wading about with the water up to his armpits, he felt what he thought was a great fish touch him—but which was more probably a piece of wood—and he was so startled and alarmed with the idea that it might be a great pike, such as he had once seen in the river, and also caught by Mr Inglis, that he rushed away from the fancied peril, and, by mishap, this was done on the wrong side; so that directly afterwards he was splashing and paddling in the water, out of his depth, and with the stream bearing him away quite fast. He could remember the water bubbling and thundering in his ears as he was swept away; two or three great struggles to reach the side, and then it seemed like going to sleep, and waking to find himself in his bed, with three faces leaning over him, and everything else misty and bewildered.
On the morning of the fourth day, Fred was up again and out with his cousins before breakfast, getting their feet well soaked by the dewy grass out in the cedar-field as they took it in turns to have a ride upon the pony—one boy running by his side once up and down the field, and holding the pony by his halter. He was a capital quiet fellow, was old Dumpling, and put up with the tricks of his young masters as good-naturedly as possibly, and, on the whole, rather seeming to join in the fun, for he stood perfectly still by their side while they climbed up the fence, and from thence on to his back, and then went along at a jig-jog trot, just as they wished him. As for Harry and Philip, they were well used to being upon his back; but when it came to Fred’s turn, he prepared to mount with considerable trepidation.
It might almost have been thought that, after the last unpleasant adventure, Fred would have been very diffident in joining in any of his cousins’ rather boisterous amusements; but he had a most wholesome dread of being looked upon as a coward: the very idea of being despised by his cousins rendered him ready to dare anything; so that, no matter what they had pressed him to, he would most probably have attempted it, however strongly his reason or inclination might have prompted him otherwise; so, when it came to his turn, he followed the instructions of his cousins, and made a sort of half leap or vault upon the pony’s back; but in so doing he overshot the mark, and went scrambling down, head first, on the other side. The pony, however, never moved, and as Fred was not hurt, he climbed the fence for another try, and this time came down just in the right place, but in doing so, stuck his heels so tightly into the nag’s side, that, without waiting for the leader to take hold of the halter, away he started at a canter, greatly to Fred’s dismay, for the bumping he received seemed something fearful to him, and he had no small difficulty in keeping his seat; but keep it he did, and the pony cantered away till nearly at the bottom of the field, when he subsided into a trot, the boys behind in full chase, laughing and cheering away as hard as they could. Trot—trot, went the pony, and Fred thought it was horrible, for it rucked his trousers up, and shook and bumped him ten times more than when he was cantering. But Fred was too much of a stoic to find fault, and sat it out famously, for Harry now caught up to him, and, seizing the halter, ran by his side till they reached the fence again, when Fred dismounted.
“Why, I thought you said that you couldn’t ride!” said Philip, now coming up quite out of breath. “Why, you ride better than we do; don’t he, Hal?”
“Ride! of course he can,” said Harry, “better than I can; but a couple of old clothes-props, tied together, and put straddling over the pony, would ride better than—Oh! don’t, Phil, it hurts,” he continued, as Philip indulged his brother with a few thumps in the back to repay the compliment that he had given to the punisher.
“There goes the bell,” said Fred, with a hunger-sharpened sense, running off full race towards the house, closely followed by his cousins, who could not, however, catch up to him until they reached the side-door, through which they all rushed together with such impetus, that they came in contact with Mary, who was carrying a plate of hot cake and some eggs into the breakfast parlour.
“Squawk,” said Mary, as she was regularly upset, and they all went down—boys, plate, eggs, tray, and all—in one heap upon the passage floor.