“I’ll give you your coat,” said William again, “if you’ll promise not to send Bob away.”
Mr. Bott’s dignity began to melt away.
“You young devil,” he roared. “You——”
He looked wildly around and his eyes fell upon something upon which William’s eye ought to have fallen before. William had for once overlooked something vital to his strategy. In the long grass behind the tree lay a ladder that had been left there long ago by some gardener and forgotten. With a yell of triumph Mr. Bott rushed to it.
“Oh, crumbs!” said William among the leafage.
Mr. Bott put the ladder against the tree trunk and began to swarm up it—large, dripping, chattering with rage and cold. William retreated along his branch, still clinging to the overcoat. Mr. Bott pursued furiously.
“You young rogue—you young devil. I’ll teach you—I’ll——”
The branch down which William was retreating pursued by Mr. Bott was directly over the lake. William alone it could easily have supported, but it drew the line at Mr. Bott. With a creaking and a crashing above which rose a yell of terror from Mr. Bott, it fell into the water accompanied by its two occupants. The splash made by Mr. Bott’s falling body at first obscured the landscape. Before William could recover from the shock caused by Mr. Bott’s splash and yell and his own unexpected descent, Mr. Bott was upon him. Mr. Bott was maddened by rage and fury, and wet and cold. He ducked William and shook William and tore his wet overcoat from William. William butted Mr. Bott in his largest and roundest part, then scrambled from the lake and fled dripping towards the gate. Mr. Bott at first pursued him, then realising that the path was taking him within sight of the high road, turned back, drew his soaked overcoat over his shoulders and fled chatteringly and shiveringly towards his resplendent mansion.
******
Two hours later, William met the other Outlaws by appointment in the old barn where all their meetings were held.