“Yes, sir,” replied the keeper—it was the big young man who had helped the villagers in the search for our fire in the castle. “They’re poaching, sure enough. ’Tain’t the first time, neither, I’ll lay a tanner.”
“What rot you are talking, Keeper!” I blurted out. “You know just as well as I do that this isn’t Sir Anthony’s land.”
“Ah, but it is, though,” replied the grinning keeper; and Bates burst out laughing.
“Perhaps you didn’t know,” said he, “that the Chancery suit was settled three days ago in favour of Sir Anthony. This spinney is part of his preserves now; and you are caught poaching, my fine fellows. You’ll never see your native land again, my little Yankee,” shaking his fist at Percy. “If you’re not hung you’ll be transported for life. Oh, this is fine! I think I’ve squared accounts with the pair of you now, you young beggars.”
Then the whole extent of Bates’ villainy burst upon us. He had known of the settlement of the lawsuit, and he had pretended to make friends with us that evening solely with the object of drawing us into this trap. His twisted ankle was merely a part of the trick, contrived beforehand.
I was so enraged at his unparalleled meanness that I squirmed around in his grasp, and seizing him by the arms, I set to work kicking his shins with enthusiastic vigour. This was more than Bates had bargained for. He hopped about, first on one leg and then on the other, struggling to break from my grasp, and yelling to the keeper to come and help him. But the keeper was fully occupied in holding Percy; so Bates and I had it out between us. I hope I am not of a very vindictive nature, but I confess I long remembered with satisfaction the sound made by my stout English shoes as they cracked against the shins of the howling Bates.
At length he broke away and fled; when I instantly ran to the assistance of Percy. Coming up behind the keeper I seized him by the hair, pulling his head back so that his face was turned up to the sky. Down he came to his knees, and leaving his hold of Percy he attempted to grasp me by the wrist. This, however, was just what I was expecting, and giving him a sharp push I threw him forward upon his face.
The next moment Percy and I were out of the wood and scudding down the road.
The indignant keeper was up and after us like a shot; we could hear his heavy shoes coming, clip-clop, on the hard road behind us. We were just beginning to think we should out-run him when he blew a shrill whistle, in response to which two other keepers suddenly appeared in the road a hundred yards ahead. They supposed they had caught us then; but they were mistaken. Without an instant’s hesitation Percy swerved to one side, put down his head, shut his eyes, and dashed at the quickset hedge which bordered the road. He burst half-way through, when a push from me sent him forward upon his hands and knees on the other side. I dived into the gap he had made, and Percy, seizing me by the arm, dragged me through, just as the young keeper came panting up behind.
Away we went across country, heading straight for the castle, and after a smart run of nearly a mile we dashed into the old dining-hall—still fifty yards ahead of our pursuers. Calling to Percy to take to the chimney, I bolted through the arched doorway of the hall and scrambled up the ivy, reaching the top in time to see the young keeper pop into the fireplace down below. He had evidently seen Percy go in there, and supposed he had caught him as in a trap. Great was his surprise, therefore, to find the place empty.