Dick o' the Fens Part 70

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

UNDER CLOUDS.

Thorpeley was not badly hurt, so the doctor said when he came; but, as usual, he added, "If it had been an inch or two more to the right an important vessel would have been divided, and he would have bled to death."

But if the constable was not badly wounded, though the injury caused by a bullet pa.s.sing through his leg was an ugly one, the reputations of d.i.c.k Winthorpe and Tom Tallington had received such ugly wounds that their fathers found it difficult to get them cured.

For Thorpeley stuck to his first story, that he suspected the two boys to be engaged in some nefarious trick, and he had watched them from the time they borrowed the wheelwright's punt. He went on to describe how he had offended them by keeping his eye upon their movements, and told how they had tried to smother him by leading him into a dangerous mora.s.s, while just at dusk, as he was watching their boat, he saw them start towards him, and evidently believing that they were unseen from where they had tied their punt, they had deliberately taken aim at him and shot him.

The squire questioned him very sharply, but he adhered to everything.

He swore that he saw them thrust the punt away, and go into the misty darkness; and then when they had heard his cries, they came back and landed, evidently repentant and frightened, and then helped him down to the boat.

"But," said the squire, "it might have been two other people in a punt who shot at you."

"Two others!" shouted the man; "it weer they, and I heered 'em laughing and bragging about it as I lay theer in the bottom o' the boat nearly in a swownd, bud I could hear what they said."

This charge was so serious that, as a matter of course, there was a magisterial inquiry, which was repeated as soon as the constable was sufficiently well to limp into the justice-room in the little town where he had been removed as soon as the doctor gave permission, the neighbourhood of the Toft and Hickathrift having grown uncomfortably warm.

At that last examination the magistrates shook their heads, and, after hearing a great deal of speaking, decided that Thorpeley must have been deceived in the darkness, and the charge was dismissed.

In those days the law had two qualities in an out-of-the-way place that have pretty well died out now. These qualities were laxity and severity--the disposition to go to extremes; and in this case some idea of the way in which the work of petty sessions was carried on will be grasped when it is told that after the examination the chairman of the bench of magistrates, an old landholder of the neighbourhood, shook hands with the squire, and then less freely with Farmer Tallington.

"Look here, you two," he said; "we've let off these two young scamps; but you had better send them to sea, or at all events away from here."

"I don't understand you, sir," said the squire hotly.

"I can't help that," was the gruff reply. "You take my advice. Send 'em away before there's more mischief done. I sha'n't let 'em off next time."

Hickathrift, who had watched all the proceedings, heard these words; and as the two lads trudged home beside him, with the squire and Farmer Tallington in front, he told them all that had been said.

d.i.c.k said nothing, but Tom fired up and exclaimed angrily, while the wheelwright kept on talking quietly to the former.

"Niver yow mind, lad; we don't think you shot at him. It's some o' they lads t'other side o' the fen. They comes acrost and waits their chance, and then goes back, and n.o.body's none the wiser. Niver you mind what owd magistrit said. Magistrit indeed! Why, I'd mak' a better magistrit out of owd Solomon any day o' the week."

It was kindly spoken; but if there is a difficult thing to do it is to "never mind" when the heart is sore through some accusation that rankles from its injustice.

"Yes, Tom," said d.i.c.k, when they were about half-way home; "they'd better send us away."

He looked longingly across the fen with its gleaming waters, waving reeds, and many-tinted flowers; and as he gazed in the bright afternoon suns.h.i.+ne it seemed as if it had never looked so beautiful before. To an agricultural-minded man it was a watery waste; but to a boy who had pa.s.sed his life there, and found it the home of bird, insect, fish, and flower, and an ever-changing scene of pleasure, it was all that could be called attractive and bright.

"I'm ready to go," said Tom st.u.r.dily; "only I don't know which to do."

"Which to do!" cried d.i.c.k, with his face growing red, and his eyes flas.h.i.+ng. "Why, what do you mean?"

"Whether to go for a soldier or a sailor."

"Haw! haw!"

Hickathrift's was a curious laugh. At a distance it might have been taken for a hail; but a fine heron standing heel-deep in the shallow water took it to be a cry to scare him, so spreading his great flap wings, and stooping so as to get a spring, he flew slowly off with outstretched legs, while the squire and Farmer Tallington looked back to see if they had been called.

"What are you laughing at?" said Tom angrily.

"Yow, lad, yow. Why, you arn't big enew to carry a goon; and as for sailing, do you think a s.h.i.+p's like a punt, and shoved along wi' a pole!"

"Never mind," grumbled Tom. "I'm not going to stop here and be suspected for nothing."

"Nay, nay, don't you lads talk nonsense."

"It's no nonsense, Hicky," said d.i.c.k bitterly. "I've made up my mind to go."

"Nay, nay, I tell thee. Thou wean't goo, lads."

"Indeed but we will," cried d.i.c.k energetically.

"What, goo?"

"Yes."

"Height awayer?"

"Yes, right away."

"Then what's to become of me?" cried the wheelwright excitedly.

"Become of you! Why, what's it got to do with you?" cried Tom surlily.

"Do wi' me! Why, iverything. What's the good o' my punt? what's the good o' me laying up a couple o' good ash-poles for you, and putting a bit o' wood up chimney to season, so as to hev it ready for new soles for your pattens [skates] next winter. Good, indeed! What call hev you to talk that clat?"

"You're a good old chap, Hicky," said d.i.c.k, smiling up at the big fellow; "but you can't understand what I feel over this."

"Hey, bud I can," cried the wheelwright quickly; "you feel just the same as I did when Farmer Tallington--Tom's father here--said I'd sent him in his bill after he'd sattled it; and as I did when my missus said I'd took half a guinea outer money-box to spend i' town. I know, lads.

Yes, I know."

"Well, I suppose it is something like that, Hicky," said d.i.c.k sadly.

"Ay, joost the same; bud I didn't tell Farmer Tallington as I should go for a soldier, and I didn't turn on my wife and tell her I should go to sea."

d.i.c.k was silent the rest of the way home, but he shook hands very solemnly with Tom, and Tom pressed his hand hard as they parted at the farm. Then d.i.c.k went on beside the wheelwright, while the squire walked swiftly ahead, evidently thinking deeply.

There was a meaning in that grip of the hand which Hickathrift did not understand; but he kept on talking cheerily to the lad till they were close up to the Toft, when, just as the squire turned in and stopped for d.i.c.k to join him, the wheelwright shook hands with the lad.

"Good day, Mester d.i.c.k!" he said aloud; and then in a whisper:

"Don't you go away, lad, for if you do they'll be sure to say it was yow as fired the shot."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.