The New Forest Spy Part 19

"But he doesn't believe he's here now, does he, Bunny?"

"Shouldn't wonder if he does, Master Waller. He ar'n't so stupid as he looks. He's as cunning as he is fat. A lot of the fox in him. It's you as ought to have the money, seeing that it was only right when you found him, and have fed the Frenchy beggar ever since."

"But who else is likely to know?"

"Haw! Haw!" laughed the man, shaking with pure enjoyment at what seemed to him one of the greatest jokes in the world. "You have never seen him. You ar'n't got him chained up to your work-bench up in your room!

Oh, no! But I say, Master Waller, you can fib when you like!"

"How dare you!" cried Waller angrily. "How have I fibbed or lied to you? Didn't I own it to you directly, sir, as soon as I was sure you knew?"

"Oh, well, I suppose you did, Master Waller. Beg pardon! Don't be waxy with me, lad."

"Here, tell me who is likely to know."

"Why, Joe Hanson, like as anybody, I should say. If I had bin him I know I should soon have had the forty-round apple ladder up agen your window to see what you were about."

"Anyone else?" cried Waller.

"Ay. Old Fatty Gusset, as aforesaid; old cobbler!"

"But you haven't dropped a hint, Bunny?"

"Dropped a hint! Na-ay! I'd sooner drop his old lapstone on his toe."

"Look here, Bunny!" cried Waller, catching the man by the wrist, while an inquisitive-looking robin hopped nearer to them from twig to twig, and sat watching them both with its bright, bead-like eyes.

"Look wheer, my lad?"

"Look here! You don't want fifty pounds."

"Oh, don't I! Hark at him!" cried the man, laughing, and addressing the robin.

"Why, what good would it be to you?"

"What good, lad? Why, I'd have a noo thick weskit, a plush un, before the winter come--a red un like his'n," and he nodded towards the robin.

"Bah! Nonsense!"

"Nay, it ar'n't, lad. Them red uns are strange and warm, and lies down like feathers. Then there's boots. I'd like a pair of the stoutest and thickest lace-up waterproofers as I could get--not a pair of old Fatty's cobbling, but real down good uns, out of Southampton's town."

"Yes!" panted Waller, "And what else would you do with the money?"

"Waal, I don't know about what else," said the man thoughtfully. "That there weskit and them boots would about do for the present."

"That wouldn't cost two pounds," cried Waller; "and what would you do with the other?"

"Bury it in an old pot," said the man, with a grin. "I know a hole as would take that."

"Oh, Bunny!" cried the boy pa.s.sionately, "I thought better of you! I did think you were a man!"

"So I am," cried the fellow fiercely. "Who says I ar'n't?"

"I do!" cried Waller, das.h.i.+ng his arm away. "For the sake of a warm waistcoat and a pair of stout boots you would give up that poor fellow to be hanged, or see him shot!"

"Not me, lad!" cried Bunny fiercely.

"You would, sir! Why, I'd sooner go s.h.i.+vering and barefoot all my days than even think of such a thing."

"Phe-ew!" growled the man, and he began scratching the thick, dark curls, almost negro-like, that covered his head and hung over his broad brown temples. "Why, I never thought anything like that, Master Waller.

Why, I wouldn't go and see a man shot nor hung for love or money! I only thought about that chap as being a spy as had come here to steal the crown; and it seemed to me, as you found him, that it'd be about fair if you and me went snacks with the reward. Look here, my lad, I'll get my old weskit covered with a bit of heifer-skin, and as for the boots, why, they'll do for another winter yet if I lay 'em up pretty thick with grease. Don't you get waxy with me, Master Waller. I didn't mean no harm. I wouldn't hurt that poor chap, especially as you like him."

"No, Bunny," cried the boy, catching his arm again. "I'm sure you wouldn't; and you won't tell upon me?"

"You say I ar'n't to, Master Waller, and, of course, I won't."

"Then I do say you are not to. I wouldn't have that poor fellow found and taken for the world."

"All right, Master Waller."

"And as for the money you will miss, Bunny, I have got some saved up, and you shall have the waistcoat and the boots before a month's pa.s.sed."

"Na-ay, I shan't," growled the man. "Bang the boots and the weskit! I won't have 'em now. You say it's right for that there poor young chap to be took care of, and it shall be done. You have got him all right up there; but your father's coming home. What will he say?"

"Oh, don't talk about it," cried the boy excitedly. "It makes me s.h.i.+ver!"

"Do it? Well, look here, lad; when you know he's coming home, you hand the chap over to me."

"What, could you hide him somewhere?"

"Could I hide him somewhere? Haw! Haw!" laughed the man. "He says, could I hide him somewhere?" And he looked round as if to address the robin; but the bird had flitted away, and Bunny Wrigg gazed straight in the boy's eyes again. "Of course I could, lad, and where no soldiers could find him and even you couldn't. You let me have him, and he'll be all right."

"Bunny, you are a good fellow!" cried Waller excitedly. "And you shall have the best waistcoat and boots that money can buy."

"Nay I sha'n't, lad," growled the man, "and if you say any more about them things I shan't play. That there young Frenchy chap must be a good sort, or you wouldn't have made him your friend. Why, I'd rather hear you call me a good fellow like you did just now, and think of me, being the young Squire, as your friend, than have all the weskits in the world. But I say, look here, Master Waller," said Bunny thoughtfully, "I could hide that chap in one of my snuggeries; but what about the winter time?"

"What about the winter time?" said Waller, staring.

"Ay; when it's always raining, or snow's on the ground. I don't mind, because the water runs off me, same as it would off a wild duck; and as for the frost and snow, I could roll in 'em like a dog. But such a chap as your friend--it'd kill him in no time. He'd be catching colds and sore gullets, and having the roomis."

"Oh, but it wouldn't be for long."

"What are you going to do with him then? Not setting anybody else to take care of him?"

"Oh, no, no, Bunny."

"Because I shouldn't like that, sir, when I'd undertook the job. What are you going to do with him then?"

"Wait till the soldiers are gone, Bunny, and then get him down to the coast and smuggle him aboard a fis.h.i.+ng-boat and get the skipper to run him across to Cherbourg or Saint Malo."