“Let’s over and see lads.”
As the men approached the balloon their cautious movements and general expression betokened fear.
When they first reached the car, I threw aside my covering, anxious to convince them without further doubt, what it was they were gazing upon.
Whether or not I was too energetic, and sprang up like Jack in the box, I cannot say, but the moment their eyes rested upon me they fled in dismay.
I followed after them, urging that “it was only a balloon,” but the affrighted ones jumped through a hedge-gap, and it was not until they had drawn up on the other side, as if ashamed of their fear, that they listened to what I had to say, and on regaining self-possession they went back and examined for themselves; after getting reassured they conducted me to their master, who invited me to breakfast.
While we were finishing our coffee, the farmer continually apologized for the rude behaviour of his men, who were not at all polite.
Master Hector, the dog, kept eying and pawing me as if he would be rough, but for the presence of the farmer.
After breakfast we drove over to Basingstoke, and called at the “Red Lion” on our road to the railway station.
The landlord had heard a knocking the previous night, and had been warned by the policeman of a dangerous-looking fellow being about, with a house-breaker’s implement in his possession ready for use.
I showed him the liberating iron and explained its application, and who I was, &c., when the ex-pugilist was much amused, and informed me why the villagers were so cautious about strangers.