Dick greeted them with rapture; but Dick was not to be let loose, and he soon showed his disgust by sharp angry barks. The old raven came slily—hop, hop, hop—behind them, to give some one a dig with his hard beak; but Fred knew his tricks now and kept him at a distance; while Philip, who was not attending, received a sharp poke right in the calf of the leg, which sent him chasing his aggressor round the yard, armed with the stump of an old birch broom; but the raven hopped upon the dog-kennel, then upon the wall, and from thence up into one of the horse-chestnut trees, and so out of reach, for when the broom was thrown at him it only crashed amongst the branches and came to the ground, while the raven burst out into a series of harsh barks, that sounded very much like a laugh of derision.
“An old beast,” said Philip, for his leg was bleeding a little, the dig having gone right through his trousers. “Never mind. I’ll serve him out, for I’ll let Dick loose at him the next time I catch him in the stables.”
Meanwhile, Harry had entered the stable and climbed up the perpendicular ladder into the loft, where the boys could hear him stumping about in the dark place, stumbling over the hay and straw trusses, and at last he shouted—
“Why, they’re not here, Phil.”
“Yes, they are,” said the one addressed. “I put ’em there myself, up in the corner, after we had them out last time. Look again.”
Harry looked again, and again, and could not find what he was in search of, and said so; and then Philip called him “Old mole’s eyes,” and went up himself; while Fred waited underneath the trap-door. But Master Philip had no better success than his brother, and they came to the conclusion that the stilts they were in search of were gone; so they turned to descend, when Harry caught sight of the position Fred occupied, and pointed it out to Philip; and then, making signs, and catching up an armful of hay, Philip doing the same, the result was that poor Fred was nearly smothered beneath the fragrant shower that came down upon his head.
“Oh! I’ll pay you for this, Master Harry,” aid Fred, freeing himself from his load, and rightly judging who was the author of the mischief. “Mind that’s a debt of honour, so look out.”
Harry grinned defiance, and then hunted well through both stable and coach-house for the missing stilts, but without success.
“Why, I know where they are,” said Philip all at once.
“No, you don’t, old clever-shakes,” said his brother.