“Ah, that’s better,” said Peter, who had been nervous ever since a horse ran away with him. “I don’t like to see a boy doing dangerous things that how.”
“Don’t call a thing like that a boy, do yer!” said Dan’l. “I calls it monkey rubbidge. Now you step round the house, and through the stable, and get down that side o’ the wall, and I’ll go this. Don’t you seem to see him till you hear me whistle. Then grab.”
“But how am I to grab when he’s up there!” said Peter.
“Ah! ’tis high up,” said Dan’l. “Wish I’d got one o’ them grappling-irons as hangs down by the bridge; I’d fetch him off pretty quick.”
“Shall I get a fruit-ladder?” suggested Peter.
“Nay, we don’t want no fruit-ladders,” grumbled Dan’l. “We’ll soon fetch his lordship down. Now then, you be off.”
“Stop a moment,” said Peter, as he watched the boy intently. “Look at him! Well, I never did!”
It was a very true remark. Peter certainly never did, and very few boys would have cunning enough to perform such a feat with so much ease. For, after running about fifty yards along the top of the wall, the little fellow turned quickly and ran back again, made offers as if he were going to leap down, and then suddenly squatted down in exact imitation of a cat, and began licking his arms, and passing them over his head.
“Well, he caps me!” cried Peter. “I never see a boy do anything like that since I was at a show at Exeter, and then it was a bigger chap than him.”
“Look here,” said Dan’l; “I’ve got it. You get a big strong clothes-prop, and I’ll get another, and we’ll poke him off. If he comes down your side, mind this: he’ll be like a rat, and off as quick as quick; but don’t you let him go. Drop your prop, and throw yourself on him; we’ll ketch him, and take him in to the gov’nor, and he’ll know now where the fruit goes. You couldn’t net chaps like this.”