Seven Little Australians

by Ethel Sybil Turner

  CHAPTER X

  Bunty in the Light of a Hero

  "'I know him to be valiant.' 'I was told that by one that knows him better than you.' 'What's he?' 'Marry, he told the so himself, and he said he cared not who knew it'"

  Bunty had been betrayed into telling another story. It was avery, big one, and he was proportionately miserable. Everyoneelse had gone out but Meg, who was still in bed after her faintingfit, and he had been having a lonely game of cricket down in thepaddock by himself. But even with a brand-new cricket ball thisgame palls after a time when one has to bowl and bat and backstopin solitary state. So presently he put his bat over into the garden,and began to throw the ball about in an aimless fashion, while hecogitated on what he should do next. His father's hack was standingaway at the farther end of the paddock, and in an idle, thoughtlessway Bunty sauntered down towards it, and then sent his ball spinningover the ground in its direction "to give it a jump." Nothing wasfurther from his thoughts than an idea of hurting the animal, andwhen the ball struck it full on the leg, and it moved away limping,he hastened down to it, white and anxious.

  He could see he had done serious mischief by the way the poorthing held its leg up from the ground and quivered when he touchedit. Terror seized him forthwith, and he turned hastily round withhis usual idea of hiding in his head. But to his utter dismay,when he got half-way back across the paddock he saw his father anda brother officer come out of the wicket gate leading from thegarden and saunter slowly down in the direction of the horse,which was a valuable and beautiful one.

  In terror at what he had done, he slipped the cricket ball into thefront of his sailor jacket, and, falling hurriedly upon hisknees, began playing an absorbing game of marbles. His tremblingthumb had hit about a dozen at random when he heard his name calledin stentorian tones.

  He rose, brushed the dust from his shaking knees, and walked slowlydown to his father.

  "Go and tell Pat I want him instantly," the Captain said. Hehad the horse's leg in his hand and was examining it anxiously."If he's not about, send Pip. I can't think how it's happened--doyou know anything of this, Bunty?"

  "No, of course not! I n--never did n--n--nothing," Bunty said withchattering teeth, but his father was too occupied to notice hisevident guilt, and bade him go at once.

  So he went up to the stables and sent Pat posthaste back to hisfather.

  And then he stole into the house, purloined two apples and a bitof cake from the dining-room, and went away to be utterly miserableuntil he had confessed.

  He crept into a disused shed some distance from the house; in daysgone by it had been a stable, and had a double loft over it thatwas only to be reached by a ladder in the last stage of dilapidation.Bunty scrambled up, sat down in an unhappy little heap among somestraw, and began thoughtfully to gnaw an apple.

  If ever a little lad was in need of a wise loving, motherlymother it was this same dirty-faced, heavyhearted one who satwith his small rough head against a cobwebby beam and muttereddejectedly, "'Twasn't my fault: 'Twas the horse:"

  He fancied something moved in the second loft, which was dividedfrom the one he was in by a low partition. "Shoo--shoo, get away!"he called, thinking it was rats. He struck the floor several timeswith his heavy little boots.

  "Shoo!" he said.

  "Bunty,"

  The boy turned pale to his lips. That odd, low whisper of hisname, that strange rustle so near him--oh, what COULD it mean?

  "Bunty."

  Again the name sounded. Louder this time, but in a tired voice,that struck him some way with a strange thrill. The rustling grewlouder, something was getting over the partition, crossing thefloor, coming towards him. He gave a sob of terror and flunghimself face downwards on the ground, hiding his little blanchedface among the straw.

  "Bunty," said the voice again, and a light hand touched his arm.

  "Help me--HELP me!" he shrieked. "Meg--oh! Father--Esther!"

  But one hand was hastily put over his mouth and another pulled himinto a sitting position.

  He had shut his eyes very tightly, so as not to see the ghostlyvisitant that he knew had come to punish him for his sin. Butsomething made him open them, and then he felt he could neverclose them again for amazement.

  For, it was Judy's hand that was over his mouth, and Judy's selfthat was standing beside him.

  "My golly!" he said, in a tone of stupefaction. He stared hardat her to make sure she was real flesh and blood. "However didyou get here?"

  But Judy made no answer. She merely took the remaining appleand cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them insilence.

  "Haven't you got any more?" she said anxiously. Then henoticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was. Herclothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots wereburst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp,and her hair matted and rough.

  "My golly!" the little boy said again, his eyes threateningto start out of his head--"my golly, Judy, what have you beendoin'?"

  "I--I've run away, Bunty," Judy said, in a quavering voice."I've walked all the way from school. I wanted to see you allso badly."

  "My jiggery!" Bunty said.

  "I've thought it all out," Judy continued, pushing back her hairin a weary moray. "I can't quite remember everything just now,I am so tired, but everything will be all right."

  "But what'll he say?" Bunty said with frightened eyes, as avision of his father crossed his mind.

  "He won't know, of course," Judy returned, in a matter-of-factmanner. "I shall just live here in this loft for a time, andyou can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and thenpresently I'll go back to school." She sank down among the strawand shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, andBunty watched her half fascinated.

  "How far is it from your school?" he said at last.

  "Seventy-seven miles." Judy shuddered a little. "I got a liftin a luggage train from Lawson to Springwood, and a ride in a cartfor a little way, but I walked the rest. I've been nearly a weekcoming," she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quitea long time. Then a tear or two of weakness and self-pity trickledfrom beneath her black lashes, and made a little clean mark down hercheeks. Bunty's throat swelled at the sight of them, he had neverseen Judy cry as long as he could remember. He patted her thinhand, he rubbed his head against her shoulder, and said, "Nevermind, old girl," in a thick voice.

  But that brought, half a dozen great heavy drop hurrying down frombeneath the closed lashes, and the girl turned over and lay facedownwards to hide them. Then she struggled up to a sitting positionand actually began to laugh.

  "IF the Miss Burtons could see me!" she said. "Oh, I've managedeverything so beautifully; they think I'm spending a fortnight atKatoomba--oh, BUNTY, you ought to see the curls Miss Marian Burtonwears plastered at each side of her cheeks!" She broke off,laughing almost hysterically, and then coughing till the tears cameback in her eyes.

  "Do go and get me something to eat," she said crossly, when she gother breath--"you might remember I've had nothing to eat sinceyesterday morning; only you always were selfish, Bunty."

  He got up and moved away in a great hurry. "What could you eat?what shall I get?" he said, and put one leg down the trap-door.

  "Anything so long as it's a lot," she said--"ANYTHING!--I feel Icould eat this straw, and crunch up the beams as if they werebiscuits. I declare I've had to keep my eyes off you, Bunty;you're so fat I keep longing to pick your bones."

  Her eyes shone with a spark of their old fun, but then she began tocough again, and, after the paroxysm had passed, lay back exhausted.

  "Do fetch some of the others," she called faintly, as his head wasdisappearing. "You're not much good alone, you know."

  His head bobbed back a moment, and he tried to smile away the painher words gave him, for just at that minute he would have died forher without a murmur.

  "I'm awf'ly sorry, Judy," he said gently,
"but the others areall out. Wouldn't I do? I'd do anything, Judy please."

  Judy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the lastwords, and turned her face to the wall.

  Two big tears trickled down again.

  "They MIGHT have stayed in," she said with a sob. "They mighthave known I should try to come. Where are they?"

  "Pip's gone fishing," he said, "and Nell's carrying the basketfor him. And Baby's at the Courtneys', and Esther's gone to townwith the General. Oh, and Meg's ill in bed, because her stays weretoo tight last night and she fainted."

  "I suppose they haven't missed me a scrap," was her bitterthought, when she heard how everything seemed going on as usual,while she had been living through so much just to see them all.

  Then the odd feeling of faintness came back, and she closed hereyes again and lay motionless, forgetful of time, place, or hunger.

  Bunty sped across the paddock on winged feet; the sight of hisfather near the stables gave him a momentary shock, and broughthis own trouble to mind, but he shook it off again and hurried on.The pantry door was locked. Martha, the cook, kept it in thatcondition generally on account of his own sinful propensitiesfor making away with her tarts and cakes; it was only byskilful stratagem he could ever get in, as he remembereddejectedly.

  But Judy's hunger! Nothing to eat since yesterday morning!

  He remembered, with a feeling of pain even now, the horriblesinking sensation he had experienced last week when for punishmenthe had been sent to bed without his tea. And Judy had forgonethree meals! He shut his lips tightly, and a light of almostheroic resolve came into his eyes. Round at the side of the housewas the window to the pantry; he had often gazed longingly up at it,but had never ventured to attempt the ascent, for there was ahorrible cactus creeper up the wall.

  But now for Judy's sake he would do it or die. He marched roundthe house and up to the side window; no one was about, the wholeplace seemed very quiet. Martha, as he had seen, was cooking inthe kitchen, and the other girl was whitening the front veranda.He gave one steady look at the great spiky thorns, and the nextminute was climbing up among them.

  Oh, how they pierced and tore him! There was a great, jaggedwound up one arm, his left stocking was ripped away and a deepred scratch showed across his leg, his hands were bleeding andquivering with pain.

  But he had reached the sill, and that was everything.

  He pushed up the narrow window, and with much difficultyforced his little fat body through. Then he dropped down on toa shelf, and lowered himself gingerly on to the floor. There wasno time to stay to look at his many hurts, he merely regardedthe biggest scratch with rueful eyes, and then began to look aroundfor provender. The pantry was remarkably empty--not a sign ofcakes, not a bit of jelly, not a remnant of fowl anywhere. He cuta great piece off a loaf, and carefully wrapped some butter in ascrap of newspaper. There was some corned beef on a dish, and hecut off a thick lump and rolled it up with the remains of aloquat tart. These parcels he disposed of down the loose front ofhis sailor coat, filling up his pockets with sultanas, citron-peel,currants, and such dainties as the store bottles held. And thenhe prepared to make his painful retreat.

  He climbed upon the shelf once more, put his head out of thewindow, and gave a look of despair at the cactus. And even ashe knelt there sounded behind him the sharp click of a turningkey.

  He looked wildly round, and there was Martha in the doorway, andto his utter horror she was talking to his father, who was in thepassage just beyond.

  "Row's Embrocation, or arnica," the Captain was saying. "It isprobably in this pantry, my good girl, because it is the lastplace I should expect it to be in. I left it on my bedroommantelpiece, but somebody has seen fit to meddle with it. Whyin the name of all that is mysterious can't you let my thingsalone?"

  "And for what should I be after moving it for?" Martha retorted."I don't mix the pastry with it to make it lightsome, leastwaynot ordinarily."

  She tossed her head, and the action revealed the small, kneeling,terrified figure at the window. Now the door was only half open,and her master was standing just beside it outside, so she onlyhad the benefit of the spectacle.

  Twice she opened her mouth to speak, but Bunty made suchfrantic, imploring faces at her than she closed it again, andeven began to examine the bottles on the shelf near the door togive the boy an opportunity of retreat.

  One minute and he would, have been safe--one minute and he wouldhave been in the thick of the cactus, that had quite lost its terrors.

  But the Fates were too strong for him. And all because MarthaTomlinson's shoe was don at the heel. In turning round it twisteda little under her, and, in trying to recover her balance, she putout one hand. And in putting out one hand she knocked over a jug.And the jug communicated its shock to dish. Which toppled over,and coolly pushed the great basin of milk off the shelf on to the floor.I don't know if ever you have tried to clean a board floor after milk,but I am sure you can imagine it would be a disagreeable task,especially if you had scrubbed it well only that morning. It was hardlyto be wondered at, therefore, that Martha, in her profound irritationat the disaster, turned angrily round, and, pointing to the figurenow stuck in the window, demanded in an exasperated tone whetherthe blessed saints could stand that dratted boy any longer, for shecouldn't, so there.

  The Captain took an angry step into the pantry and gave a roar ofcommand for Bunty to come down.

  The boy dropped in an agony of dread and shrinking.

  "Always his hands a-pickin' and stealin' and his tongue a-lyin',"said Martha Tomlinson, gazing unkindly at the unhappy child.

  Two, three, four, five angry cuts from the riding-whip in theCaptain's hands, and Bunty had ducked under his arm and fled howlingdown the passage and out of the back door.

  Away across the paddocks he went, sobbing at every step, but hugelycommending himself for bearing all this for someone else's sake.

  He could hardly have believed, had anyone told him previously, thathe could have done anything so absolutely noble, and the thoughtcomforted him even while the cuts and scratches smarted. He tried tostifle his sobs as he reached the shed, and even stuffed half ahandful of currants into his mouth towards that end.

  But it was a very tearful, scratched, miserable face that bobbed upthe opening near Judy again.

  She did not move, though her eyes were half open, and he knelt downand shook her shoulder gently.

  "Here's some things, Judy--ain't you goin' to eat them?"

  She shook her head very slightly.

  "Have some corned beef, or some currants; there's some peel, too, ifyou'd rather."

  She shook her head again. "Do take them away," she said, with alittle moan.

  A look of blank disappointment stole over his small, heated face.

  "An' I've half killed myself to get them! Well, you ARE a mean girl!"he said.

  "Oh, DO go away,": Judy moaned, moving her head restlessly fromside to side. "Oh, how my feet ache! no--my head, and my side--oh!I don't know what it is!"

  "I got hit here and here," Bunty said, indicating the places, andwiping away tears of keen self-pity with his coat sleeve. "I'm scratchedall over with that beastly old cactus."

  "Do you suppose there are many miles more?" Judy said, in such aquick way that all the words seemed to run into each other. "I'vewalked hundreds and hundreds, and haven't got home yet. I supposeit's because the world's round, and I'll be walling in at the schoolgate again presently."

  "Don't be an idjut!" Bunty said gruffly.

  "You'll be sure and certain, Marian, never to breathe a word of it;I've trusted you, and if you keep faith I can go home and come backand no one will know. And lend me two shillings, can you? I've notgot much left. Bunty, you selfish little pig, you might get me somemilk! I've been begging and begging of you for hours, and my head isgoing to Catherine wheels for want of it."

  "Have some corned beef, Judy, dear--oh, Judy, don't be so silly andhorrid after I nearly got
killed for you," Bunty said, trying withtrembling fingers to stuff a piece into her mouth.

  The little girl rolled over and began muttering again.

  "Seventy-seven miles," she said, "and I walked eleven yesterday,that makes eleven hundred and seventy-seven--and six the day beforebecause my foot had a blister--that's eleven hundred and eighty-three.And if I walk ten miles a day I shall get home in eleven hundred andeighty-three times ten, that's a thousand and--and--oh! what is it?whatever is it? Bunty, you horrid little pig, can't you, tell me whatit is? My head aches too much to work, and a thousand and somethingdays--that's a year--two years--two years--three years before I get there.Oh, Pip, Meg, three years! oh, Esther! ask him, ask him to let me comehome! Three years--years--years!"

  The last word was almost shrieked and the child struggled to her feetand tried to walk.

  Bunty caught her arms and held her. "Let me go, can't you?" she saidhoarsely. "I shall never get there at this rate. Three years, and allthose miles!"

  She pushed him aside and tried to walk across the loft, but her legstottered under her and she fell down in a little senseless heap."Meg--I'll fetch Meg," said the little boy in a trembling, alarmedvoice, and he slipped down the opening and hastened up to the house.