"They're after me, Master Ferdy," were Jesse's first words, "at least I'm afraid they are, though I tried my best to dodge them."
"Who?" exclaimed Ferdy.
"The p'lice and Bill Turner's father, and a lot of them, and oh, Master Ferdy, some one called out he was killed!"
"Who?" said Ferdy again, though his own cheeks grew white at Jesse's words. "And what is it that's happened, and what do you want me to do. You must tell me properly, Jesse."
It said a good deal for Ferdy's self-control that he was able to speak so quietly and sensibly, for he was feeling terribly startled. Jesse choked down his gasping breath, which was very nearly turning into sobs.
"I didn't want to frighten you, Master Ferdy. I didn't ought to, I know, but I couldn't think what else to do. It's that Bill Turner, Master Ferdy," and at the name he gave a little shudder. "He was in the class once, but it was only out of mischief. He did no good and tried to upset the others. So Barney and I wouldn't keep him at no price, and he's gone on getting nastier and nastier, and the other day he 'called' me—he did—so that I couldn't stand it, and I went for him. It didn't hurt him, but it made him madder than ever, and he said he'd pay me out. And this afternoon when Barney and me were sorting the carvings at the shed—we've a box we keep them all in, there—Bill comes down upon us, him and some others. They got hold of 'em all and smashed 'em up and kicked them to pieces—all to pieces, Master Ferdy"—with a sort of wail, almost of despair, in his voice. "All the things we've been at for so long! We were going to make a show of them at Christmas; and I couldn't stand it, I went at him like a wild beast—it was for the other lads I minded so—though he's much bigger nor me, and I got him down, and he lay there without moving, and some one called out he was dead, and then the p'lice came, and one of 'em caught hold of me, but I got loose and I started running—I scarce knew what I was doing. I just thought I'd get here, and you'd tell me what to do. He can't be dead, Master Ferdy," he went on, dropping his voice—"you don't think he can be? I didn't seem to know what it meant till I got here and began to think."
"I don't know," said Ferdy, again growing very pale, while poor Jesse's face was all blotched in great patches of red and white, and smeared with the tears he had tried to rub off. "Oh, I do wish papa and mamma would come in! I don't know what to do. Do you think they saw you running this way, Jesse?"
"I—I don't know, Master Ferdy. I hope not, but there was a lot of the boys about—Draymoor boys, I mean—Bill's lot, and they may have tracked me. Of course none of my boys," he added, lifting his head proudly, "would peach on me, whatever the p'lice did."
But even as he spoke, there came, faintly and confusedly, the sound of approaching steps along the road just beyond the hedge, and a murmur of several voices all talking together. It might not have caught Ferdy's attention at any other time, but just now both his ears and Jesse's were sharpened by anxiety.