The rope was secured, Julian descended by it, and off he ran across the lawn towards the wall, over which he had so often before made his escape from the premises.
Digby waited and waited; Julian did not return. He became very anxious about him. He wished that he had taken stronger measures to prevent his carrying out his foolish and mischievous prank. The only effectual way to have prevented him would have been to have told Marshall or his uncle, but such a proceeding was so contrary to all his notions of what ought to be done, that it did not even occur to him. He could not exactly tell how time passed, but he thought that Julian must have been away a very long time. He could bear the suspense no longer. Some boys of his age would have gone to bed, and cried, or sat quaking with fear. To do this was not at all in Digby’s nature. He loved action; he must be up and doing. He knew the road Julian would have taken, and he resolved to go and look for him. It did not occur to him that he should thus run a great risk of being implicated in whatever his companion had done; had he, I do not believe that the fear of that would have weighed with him a moment. He put on all his clothes and his shoes, and, without further consideration, slipped down the rope, gained the wall, and ran on as fast as his legs could carry him towards the river. He got very nearly to the spot where he thought Julian would have embarked, when he met two boys running. “Who’s there?—Julian, is that you?” he exclaimed.
“Oh, Digby, how you startled me,” exclaimed one of the boys. It was Julian who spoke.
“All right,” cried Digby. “I became very anxious. I was afraid some harm had happened, and so I set off to look for you; but why are you running so fast?”
“Because we are afraid somebody is after us,” answered Julian, almost breathless. “We’ve done it, though, and rare fun there will be to-morrow to see what has become of all the boats.”
It was not necessary for Julian to tell Digby to turn back; he had at once done so, and they were running on together. They turned their heads for a moment, and Dick Owlett had disappeared. His reason for so doing was very evident. Digby thus, very unintentionally, slipped into his shoes. They soon had to cross a meadow; their own footsteps now making but a slight noise, they were able to hear the sound of another person fast approaching them.
“It may be Dick Owlett,” said Julian, in a low voice. “Still, if it is one of the coastguard men we shall catch it. Run, Digby, run.”
Digby could have run a great deal faster than he was running, but had he done so he would have left Julian behind. Their pursuer, whoever he was, came on very rapidly. They had scarcely crossed the field when, looking back, they saw him at the other end of it. He must have seen them. It seemed very useless, therefore, to attempt to escape, but their natural impulse was to run on till he put his hand on their shoulder to stop them. Julian wanted to jump into a ditch and hide, as they had before done, but Digby protested against this, and insisted on running on. Across the fields they went—now they thought that they had escaped their pursuer—now they saw him again. Sometimes he got very close to them, and then they distanced him. At last they got up to the garden-wall. The footsteps sounded terribly loud close behind them. They rushed on. Julian, always most anxious to escape from danger, had first sprung to the top of the wall, and Digby was helping him over, when a person leaped forward, and seizing Julian by the leg, and Digby by the shoulder, exclaimed—
“Hillo, young gentlemen, is it you, then, who have been about this pretty piece of mischief? What will your master say to you, I should like to know? It’s lucky we found it out, or there’s no saying what damage might have been done; however, that’s no excuse for you—so come along with me to the front door, and I’ll hand you over to Mr Nugent, or I’ll take you to the lock-up house, and let you stay there till the morning.”
Julian nudged Digby, to induce him to speak. He took the hint.