THE WRONG HOUSE
My brother Ralph, who now lived with me on the edge of Ham Common, hadcome home from Australia with a curious affection of the eyes, due tolong exposure to the glare out there, and necessitating the use ofclouded spectacles in the open air. He had not the rich complexion ofthe typical colonist, being indeed peculiarly pale, but it appearedthat he had been confined to his berth for the greater part of thevoyage, while his prematurely gray hair was sufficient proof that therigors of bush life had at last undermined an originally toughconstitution. Our landlady, who spoilt my brother from the first, wasmuch concerned on his behalf, and wished to call in the local doctor;but Ralph said dreadful things about the profession, and quitefrightened the good woman by arbitrarily forbidding her ever to let adoctor inside her door. I had to apologize to her for the painfulprejudices and violent language of "these colonists," but the old soulwas easily mollified. She had fallen in love with my brother at firstsight, and she never could do too much for him. It was owing to ourlandlady that I took to calling him Ralph, for the first time in ourlives, on her beginning to speak of and to him as "Mr. Raffles."
"This won't do," said he to me. "It's a name that sticks."
"It must be my fault! She must have heard it from me," said Iself-reproachfully.
"You must tell her it's the short for Ralph."
"But it's longer."
"It's the short," said he; "and you've got to tell her so."
Henceforth I heard as much of "Mr. Ralph," his likes and dislikes, whathe would fancy and what he would not, and oh, what a dear gentleman hewas, that I often remembered to say "Ralph, old chap," myself.
It was an ideal cottage, as I said when I found it, and in it ourdelicate man became rapidly robust. Not that the air was also ideal,for, when it was not raining, we had the same faithful mist fromNovember to March. But it was something to Ralph to get any air atall, other than night-air, and the bicycle did the rest. We taughtourselves, and may I never forget our earlier rides, through andthrough Richmond Park when the afternoons were shortest, upon theincomparable Ripley Road when we gave a day to it. Raffles rode aBeeston Humber, a Royal Sunbeam was good enough for me, but he insistedon our both having Dunlop tires.
"They seem the most popular brand. I had my eye on the road all theway from Ripley to Cobham, and there were more Dunlop marks than anyother kind. Bless you, yes, they all leave their special tracks, andwe don't want ours to be extra special; the Dunlop's like arattlesnake, and the Palmer leaves telegraph-wires, but surely theserpent is more in our line."
That was the winter when there were so many burglaries in the ThamesValley from Richmond upward. It was said that the thieves usedbicycles in every case, but what is not said? They were sometimes onfoot to my knowledge, and we took a great interest in the series, orrather sequence of successful crimes. Raffles would often get hisdevoted old lady to read him the latest local accounts, while I wasbusy with my writing (much I wrote) in my own room. We even rode outby night ourselves, to see if we could not get on the tracks of thethieves, and never did we fail to find hot coffee on the hob for ourreturn. We had indeed fallen upon our feet. Also, the misty nightsmight have been made for the thieves. But their success was not soconsistent, and never so enormous as people said, especially thesufferers, who lost more valuables than they had ever been known topossess. Failure was often the caitiff's portion, and disaster once;owing, ironically enough, to that very mist which should have servedthem. But as I am going to tell the story with some particularity, andperhaps some gusto, you will see why who read.
The right house stood on high ground near the river, with quite a drive(in at one gate and out at the other) sweeping past the steps. Betweenthe two gates was a half-moon of shrubs, to the left of the steps aconservatory, and to their right the walk leading to the tradesmen'sentrance and the back premises; here also was the pantry window, ofwhich more anon. The right house was the residence of an opulentstockbroker who wore a heavy watch-chain and seemed fair game. Therewould have been two objections to it had I been the stockbroker. Thehouse was one of a row, though a goodly row, and an army-crammer hadestablished himself next door. There is a type of such institutions inthe suburbs; the youths go about in knickerbockers, smoking pipes,except on Saturday nights, when they lead each other home from the lasttrain. It was none of our business to spy upon these boys, but theirmanners and customs fell within the field of observation. And we didnot choose the night upon which the whole row was likely to be keptawake.
The night that we did choose was as misty as even the Thames Valley iscapable of making them. Raffles smeared vaseline upon the plated partsof his Beeston Humber before starting, and our dear landlady cossetedus both, and prayed we might see nothing of the nasty burglars, notdenying as the reward would be very handy to them that got it, to saynothing of the honor and glory. We had promised her a liberalperquisite in the event of our success, but she must not give othercyclists our idea by mentioning it to a soul. It was about midnightwhen we cycled through Kingston to Surbiton, having trundled ourmachines across Ham Fields, mournful in the mist as those by Acheron,and so over Teddington Bridge.
I often wonder why the pantry window is the vulnerable point of ninehouses out of ten. This house of ours was almost the tenth, for thewindow in question had bars of sorts, but not the right sort. Theonly bars that Raffles allowed to beat him were the kind that are letinto the stone outside; those fixed within are merely screwed to thewoodwork, and you can unscrew as many as necessary if you take thetrouble and have the time. Barred windows are usually devoid of otherfasteners worthy the name; this one was no exception to that foolishrule, and a push with the pen-knife did its business. I am givinghouseholders some valuable hints, and perhaps deserving a good markfrom the critics. These, in any case, are the points that I would seeto, were I a rich stockbroker in a riverside suburb. In giving goodadvice, however, I should not have omitted to say that we had left ourmachines in the semi-circular shrubbery in front, or that Raffles hadmost ingeniously fitted our lamps with dark slides, which enabled usto leave them burning.
It proved sufficient to unscrew the bars at the bottom only, and thento wrench them to either side. Neither of us had grown stout withadvancing years, and in a few minutes we both had wormed through intothe sink, and thence to the floor. It was not an absolutely noiselessprocess, but once in the pantry we were mice, and no longer blind mice.There was a gas-bracket, but we did not meddle with that. Raffles wentarmed these nights with a better light than gas; if it were notimmoral, I might recommend a dark-lantern which was more or less hispatent. It was that handy invention, the electric torch, fitted byRaffles with a dark hood to fulfil the functions of a slide. I hadheld it through the bars while he undid the screws, and now he held itto the keyhole, in which a key was turned upon the other side.
There was a pause for consideration, and in the pause we put on ourmasks. It was never known that these Thames Valley robberies were allcommitted by miscreants decked in the livery of crime, but that wasbecause until this night we had never even shown our masks. It was apoint upon which Raffles had insisted on all feasible occasions sincehis furtive return to the world. To-night it twice nearly lost useverything--but you shall hear.
There is a forceps for turning keys from the wrong side of the door,but the implement is not so easy of manipulation as it might be.Raffles for one preferred a sharp knife and the corner of the panel.You go through the panel because that is thinnest, of course in thecorner nearest the key, and you use a knife when you can, because itmakes least noise. But it does take minutes, and even I can remembershifting the electric torch from one hand to the other before theaperture was large enough to receive the hand and wrist of Raffles.
He had at such times a motto of which I might have made earlier use,but the fact is that I have only once before described a downrightburglary in which I assisted, and that without knowing it at the time.The most solemn student of these
annals cannot affirm that he has cutthrough many doors in our company, since (what was to me) the maideneffort to which I allude. I, however, have cracked only too many acrib in conjunction with A. J. Raffles, and at the crucial moment hewould whisper "Victory or Wormwood Scrubbs, Bunny!" or instead ofWormwood Scrubbs it might be Portland Bill. This time it was neitherone nor the other, for with that very word "victory" upon his lips,they whitened and parted with the first taste of defeat.
"My hand's held!" gasped Raffles, and the white of his eyes showed allround the iris, a rarer thing than you may think.
At the same moment I heard the shuffling feet and the low, excitedyoung voices on the other side of the door, and a faint light shoneround Raffles's wrist.
"Well done, Beefy!"
"Hang on to him!"
"Good old Beefy!"
"Beefy's got him!"
"So have I--so have I!"
And Raffles caught my arm with his one free hand. "They've got metight," he whispered. "I'm done."
"Blaze through the door," I urged, and might have done it had I beenarmed. But I never was. It was Raffles who monopolized that risk.
"I can't--it's the boys--the wrong house!" he whispered. "Curse thefog--it's done me. But you get out, Bunn, while you can; never mindme; it's my turn, old chap."
His one hand tightened in affectionate farewell. I put the electrictorch in it before I went, trembling in every inch, but without a word.
Get out! His turn! Yes, I would get out, but only to come in again,for it was my turn--mine--not his. Would Raffles leave me held by ahand through a hole in a door? What he would have done in my place wasthe thing for me to do now. I began by diving head-first through thepantry window and coming to earth upon all fours. But even as I stoodup, and brushed the gravel from the palms of my hands and the knees ofmy knickerbockers, I had no notion what to do next. And yet I washalfway to the front door before I remembered the vile crape mask uponmy face, and tore it off as the door flew open and my feet were onthe steps.
"He's into the next garden," I cried to a bevy of pyjamas with barefeet and young faces at either end of them.
"Who? Who?" said they, giving way before me.
"Some fellow who came through one of your windows head-first."
"The other Johnny, the other Johnny," the cherubs chorused.
"Biking past--saw the light--why, what have you there?"
Of course it was Raffles's hand that they had, but now I was in thehall among them. A red-faced barrel of a boy did all the holding, onehand round the wrist, the other palm to palm, and his knees braced upagainst the panel. Another was rendering ostentatious but ineffectualaid, and three or four others danced about in their pyjamas. Afterall, they were not more than four to one. I had raised my voice, sothat Raffles might hear me and take heart, and now I raised it again.Yet to this day I cannot account for my inspiration, that provednothing less.
"Don't talk so loud," they were crying below their breath; "don't wake'em upstairs, this is our show."
"Then I see you've got one of them," said I, as desired. "Well, if youwant the other you can have him, too. I believe he's hurt himself."
"After him, after him!" they exclaimed as one.
"But I think he got over the wall--"
"Come on, you chaps, come on!"
And there was a soft stampede to the hall door.
"Don't all desert me, I say!" gasped the red-faced hero who heldRaffles prisoner.
"We must have them both, Beefy!"
"That's all very well--"
"Look here," I interposed, "I'll stay by you. I've a friend outside,I'll get him too."
"Thanks awfully," said the valiant Beefy.
The hall was empty now. My heart beat high.
"How did you hear them?" I inquired, my eye running over him.
"We were down having drinks--game o' Nap--in there."
Beefy jerked his great head toward an open door, and the tail of my eyecaught the glint of glasses in the firelight, but the rest of it wasotherwise engaged.
"Let me relieve you," I said, trembling.
"No, I'm all right."
"Then I must insist."
And before he could answer I had him round the neck with such a willthat not a gurgle passed my fingers, for they were almost buried in hishot, smooth flesh. Oh, I am not proud of it; the act was as vile asact could be; but I was not going to see Raffles taken, my one desirewas to be the saving of him, and I tremble even now to think to whatlengths I might have gone for its fulfilment. As it was, I squeezedand tugged until one strong hand gave way after the other and camefeeling round for me, but feebly because they had held on so long.And what do you suppose was happening at the same moment? The pinchedwhite hand of Raffles, reddening with returning blood, and with a clotof blood upon the wrist, was craning upward and turning the key in thelock without a moment's loss.
"Steady on, Bunny!"
And I saw that Beefy's ears were blue; but Raffles was feeling in hispockets as he spoke. "Now let him breathe," said he, clapping hishandkerchief over the poor youth's mouth. An empty vial was in hisother hand, and the first few stertorous breaths that the poor boy tookwere the end of him for the time being. Oh, but it was villainous, mypart especially, for he must have been far gone to go the rest of theway so readily. I began by saying I was not proud of this deed, butits dastardly character has come home to me more than ever with thepenance of writing it out. I see in myself, at least my then self,things that I never saw quite so clearly before. Yet let me be quitesure that I would not do the same again. I had not the smallestdesire to throttle this innocent lad (nor did I), but only to extricateRaffles from the most hopeless position he was ever in; and after allit was better than a blow from behind. On the whole, I will not altera word, nor whine about the thing any more.
We lifted the plucky fellow into Raffles's place in the pantry, lockedthe door on him, and put the key through the panel. Now was the momentfor thinking of ourselves, and again that infernal mask which Rafflesswore by came near the undoing of us both. We had reached the stepswhen we were hailed by a voice, not from without but from within, and Ihad just time to tear the accursed thing from Raffles's face before heturned.
A stout man with a blonde moustache was on the stairs, in his pyjamaslike the boys.
"What are you doing here?" said he.
"There has been an attempt upon your house," said I, still spokesmanfor the night, and still on the wings of inspiration.
"Your sons--"
"My pupils."
"Indeed. Well, they heard it, drove off the thieves, and have givenchase."
"And where do you come in?" inquired the stout man, descending.
"We were bicycling past, and I actually saw one fellow come head-firstthrough your pantry window. I think he got over the wall."
Here a breathless boy returned.
"Can't see anything of him," he gasped.
"It's true, then," remarked the crammer.
"Look at that door," said I.
But unfortunately the breathless boy looked also, and now he was beingjoined by others equally short of wind.
"Where's Beefy?" he screamed. "What on earth's happened to Beefy?"
"My good boys," exclaimed the crammer, "will one of you be kind enoughto tell me what you've been doing, and what these gentlemen have beendoing for you? Come in all, before you get your death. I see lightsin the class-room, and more than lights. Can these be signs of acarouse?"
"A very innocent one, sir," said a well set-up youth with moremoustache than I have yet.
"Well, Olphert, boys will be boys. Suppose you tell me what happened,before we come to recriminations."
The bad old proverb was my first warning. I caught two of the youthsexchanging glances under raised eyebrows. Yet their stout, easy-goingmentor had given me such a reassuring glance of side-long humor, asbetween man of the world and man of the world, that it was difficult tosuspect him of suspicion.
I was nevertheless itching to be gone.
Young Olphert told his story with engaging candor. It was true thatthey had come down for an hour's Nap and cigarettes; well, and therewas no denying that there was whiskey in the glasses. The boys were nowall back in their class-room, I think entirely for the sake of warmth;but Raffles and I were in knickerbockers and Norfolk jackets, and verynaturally remained without, while the army-crammer (who wore bedroomslippers) stood on the threshold, with an eye each way. The more I sawof the man the better I liked and the more I feared him. His chiefannoyance thus far was that they had not called him when they heard thenoise, that they had dreamt of leaving him out of the fun. But heseemed more hurt than angry about that.
"Well, sir," concluded Olphert, "we left old Beefy Smith hanging on tohis hand, and this gentleman with him, so perhaps he can tell us whathappened next?"
"I wish I could," I cried with all their eyes upon me, for I had hadtime to think. "Some of you must have heard me say I'd fetch my friendin from the road?"
"Yes, I did," piped an innocent from within.
"Well, and when I came back with him things were exactly as you seethem now. Evidently the man's strength was too much for the boy's; butwhether he ran upstairs or outside I know no more than you do."
"It wasn't like that boy to run either way," said the crammer, cockinga clear blue eye on me.
"But if he gave chase!"
"It wasn't like him even to let go."
"I don't believe Beefy ever would," put in Olphert. "That's why wegave him the billet."
"He may have followed him through the pantry window," I suggestedwildly.
"But the door's shut," put in a boy.
"I'll have a look at it," said the crammer.
And the key no longer in the lock, and the insensible youth within!The key would be missed, the door kicked in; nay, with the man's eyestill upon me, I thought I could smell the chloroform.
I thought I could hear a moan, and prepared for either any moment. Andhow he did stare! I have detested blue eyes ever since, and blondemoustaches, and the whole stout easy-going type that is not such a foolas it looks. I had brazened it out with the boys, but the first grownman was too many for me, and the blood ran out of my heart as thoughthere was no Raffles at my back. Indeed, I had forgotten him. I hadso longed to put this thing through by myself! Even in my extremity itwas almost a disappointment to me when his dear, cool voice fell like adelicious draught upon my ears. But its effect upon the others ismore interesting to recall. Until now the crammer had the centre ofthe stage, but at this point Raffles usurped a place which was alwayshis at will. People would wait for what he had to say, as these peoplewaited now for the simplest and most natural thing in the world.
"One moment!" he had begun.
"Well?" said the crammer, relieving me of his eyes at last.
"I don't want to lose any of the fun--"
"Nor must you," said the crammer, with emphasis.
"But we've left our bikes outside, and mine's a Beeston Humber,"continued Raffles. "If you don't mind, we'll bring 'em in before thesefellows get away on them."
And out he went without a look to see the effect of his words, I afterhim with a determined imitation of his self-control. But I would havegiven something to turn round. I believe that for one moment theshrewd instructor was taken in, but as I reached the steps I heard himasking his pupils whether any of them had seen any bicycles outside.
That moment, however, made the difference. We were in the shrubbery,Raffles with his electric torch drawn and blazing, when we heard thekicking at the pantry door, and in the drive with our bicycles beforeman and boys poured pell-mell down the steps.
We rushed our machines to the nearer gate, for both were shut, and wegot through and swung it home behind us in the nick of time. Even Icould mount before they could reopen the gate, which Raffles heldagainst them for half an instant with unnecessary gallantry. But hewould see me in front of him, and so it fell to me to lead the way.
Now, I have said that it was a very misty night (hence the wholething), and also that these houses were on a hill. But they were notnearly on the top of the hill, and I did what I firmly believe thatalmost everybody would have done in my place. Raffles, indeed, said hewould have done it himself, but that was his generosity, and he was theone man who would not. What I did was to turn in the oppositedirection to the other gate, where we might so easily have been cutoff, and to pedal for my life--up-hill!
"My God!" I shouted when I found it out.
"Can you turn in your own length?" asked Raffles, following loyally.
"Not certain."
"Then stick to it. You couldn't help it. But it's the devil of ahill!"
"And here they come!"
"Let them," said Raffles, and brandished his electric torch, our onlylight as yet.
A hill seems endless in the dark, for you cannot see the end, and withthe patter of bare feet gaining on us, I thought this one could have noend at all. Of course the boys could charge up it quicker than wecould pedal, but I even heard the voice of their stout instructorgrowing louder through the mist.
"Oh, to think I've let you in for this!" I groaned, my head over thehandle-bars, every ounce of my weight first on one foot and then on theother. I glanced at Raffles, and in the white light of his torch hewas doing it all with his ankles, exactly as though he had been ridingin a Gymkhana.
"It's the most sporting chase I was ever in," said he.
"All my fault!"
"My dear Bunny, I wouldn't have missed it for the world!"
Nor would he forge ahead of me, though he could have done so in amoment, he who from his boyhood had done everything of the kind somuch better than anybody else. No, he must ride a wheel's lengthbehind me, and now we could not only hear the boys running, butbreathing also. And then of a sudden I saw Raffles on my rightstriking with his torch; a face flew out of the darkness to meet thethick glass bulb with the glowing wire enclosed; it was the face of theboy Olphert, with his enviable moustache, but it vanished with thecrash of glass, and the naked wire thickened to the eye like atuning-fork struck red-hot.
I saw no more of that. One of them had crept up on my side also; as Ilooked, hearing him pant, he was grabbing at my left handle, and Inearly sent Raffles into the hedge by the sharp turn I took to theright. His wheel's length saved him. But my boy could run, wasoverhauling me again, seemed certain of me this time, when all at oncethe Sunbeam ran easily; every ounce of my weight with either foot oncemore, and I was over the crest of the hill, the gray road reeling outfrom under me as I felt for my brake. I looked back at Raffles. He hadput up his feet. I screwed my head round still further, and there werethe boys in their pyjamas, their hands upon their knees, like so manywicket-keepers, and a big man shaking his fist. There was a lamp-poston the hill-top, and that was the last I saw.
We sailed down to the river, then on through Thames Ditton as far asEsher Station, when we turned sharp to the right, and from the darkstretch by Imber Court came to light in Molesey, and were soonpedalling like gentlemen of leisure through Bushey Park, our lightsturned up, the broken torch put out and away. The big gates had longbeen shut, but you can manoeuvre a bicycle through the others. We hadno further adventures on the way home, and our coffee was still warmupon the hob.
"But I think it's an occasion for Sullivans," said Raffles, who nowkept them for such. "By all my gods, Bunny, it's been the mostsporting night we ever had in our lives! And do you know which was themost sporting part of it?"
"That up-hill ride?"
"I wasn't thinking of it."
"Turning your torch into a truncheon?"
"My dear Bunny! A gallant lad--I hated hitting him."
"I know," I said. "The way you got us out of the house!"
"No, Bunny," said Raffles, blowing rings. "It came before that, yousinner, and you know it!"
"You don't mean anything I did?" said I, self-consciously, for I beganto se
e that this was what he did mean. And now at latest it will alsobe seen why this story has been told with undue and inexcusable gusto;there is none other like it for me to tell; it is my one ewe-lamb inall these annals. But Raffles had a ruder name for it.
"It was the Apotheosis of the Bunny," said he, but in a tone I nevershall forget.
"I hardly knew what I was doing or saying," I said. "The whole thingwas a fluke."
"Then," said Raffles, "it was the kind of fluke I always trusted you tomake when runs were wanted."
And he held out his dear old hand.
THE KNEES OF THE GODS
I
"The worst of this war," said Raffles, "is the way it puts a fellow offhis work."
It was, of course, the winter before last, and we had done nothingdreadful since the early autumn. Undoubtedly the war was the cause.Not that we were among the earlier victims of the fever. I tookdisgracefully little interest in the Negotiations, while the Ultimatumappealed to Raffles as a sporting flutter. Then we gave the wholething till Christmas. We still missed the cricket in the papers. Butone russet afternoon we were in Richmond, and a terrible type wasshouting himself hoarse with "'Eavy British lorsses--orful slorter o'the Bo-wers! Orful slorter! Orful slorter! 'Eavy British lorsses!"I thought the terrible type had invented it, but Raffles gave him morethan he asked, and then I held the bicycle while he tried to pronounceEland's Laagte. We were never again without our sheaf of eveningpapers, and Raffles ordered three morning ones, and I gave up mine inspite of its literary page. We became strategists. We knew exactlywhat Buller was to do on landing, and, still better, what the otherGenerals should have done. Our map was the best that could bebought, with flags that deserved a better fate than standing still.Raffles woke me to hear "The Absent-Minded Beggar" on the morning itappeared; he was one of the first substantial subscribers to the fund.By this time our dear landlady was more excited than we. To ourenthusiasm for Thomas she added a personal bitterness against the WildBoars, as she persisted in calling them, each time as though it werethe first. I could linger over our landlady's attitude in the wholematter. That was her only joke about it, and the true humorist neversmiled at it herself. But you had only to say a syllable for avenerable gentleman, declared by her to be at the bottom of it all, tohear what she could do to him if she caught him. She could put him ina cage and go on tour with him, and make him howl and dance for hisfood like a debased bear before a fresh audience every day. Yet a morekind-hearted woman I have never known. The war did not uplift ourlandlady as it did her lodgers.
But presently it ceased to have that precise effect upon us. Bad wasbeing made worse and worse; and then came more than Englishmen couldendure in that black week across which the names of three Africanvillages are written forever in letters of blood. "All three pegs,"groaned Raffles on the last morning of the week; "neck-and-crop,neck-and-crop!" It was his first word of cricket since the beginningof the war.
We were both depressed. Old school-fellows had fallen, and I knowRaffles envied them; he spoke so wistfully of such an end. To cheer himup I proposed to break into one of the many more or less royalresidences in our neighborhood; a tough crib was what he needed; but Iwill not trouble you with what he said to me. There was less crime inEngland that winter than for years past; there was none at all inRaffles. And yet there were those who could denounce the war!
So we went on for a few of those dark days, Raffles very glum andgrim, till one fine morning the Yeomanry idea put new heart into usall. It struck me at once as the glorious scheme it was to prove,but it did not hit me where it hit others. I was not a fox-hunter, andthe gentlemen of England would scarcely have owned me as one of them.The case of Raffles was in that respect still more hopeless (he whohad even played for them at Lord's), and he seemed to feel it. Hewould not speak to me all the morning; in the afternoon he went for awalk alone. It was another man who came home, flourishing a smallbottle packed in white paper.
"Bunny," said he, "I never did lift my elbow; it's the one vice I neverhad. It has taken me all these years to find my tipple, Bunny; buthere it is, my panacea, my elixir, my magic philtre!"
I thought he had been at it on the road, and asked him the name of thestuff.
"Look and see, Bunny."
And if it wasn't a bottle of ladies' hair-dye, warranted to change anyshade into the once fashionable yellow within a given number ofapplications!
"What on earth," said I, "are you going to do with this?"
"Dye for my country," he cried, swelling. "Dulce et decorum est,Bunny, my boy!"
"Do you mean that you are going to the front?"
"If I can without coming to it."
I looked at him as he stood in the firelight, straight as a dart, sparebut wiry, alert, laughing, flushed from his wintry walk; and as Ilooked, all the years that I had known him, and more besides, slippedfrom him in my eyes. I saw him captain of the eleven at school. I sawhim running with the muddy ball on days like this, running round theother fifteen as a sheep-dog round a flock of sheep. He had his cap onstill, and but for the gray hairs underneath--but here I lost him in asudden mist. It was not sorrow at his going, for I did not mean to lethim go alone. It was enthusiasm, admiration, affection, and also, Ibelieve, a sudden regret that he had not always appealed to that partof my nature to which he was appealing now. It was a little thrill ofpenitence. Enough of it.
"I think it great of you," I said, and at first that was all.
How he laughed at me. He had had his innings; there was no better wayof getting out. He had scored off an African millionaire, the Players,a Queensland Legislator, the Camorra, the late Lord Ernest Belville,and again and again off Scotland Yard. What more could one man do inone lifetime? And at the worst it was the death to die: no bed, nodoctor, no temperature--and Raffles stopped himself.
"No pinioning, no white cap," he added, "if you like that better."
"I don't like any of it," I cried, cordially; "you've simply got tocome back."
"To what?" he asked, a strange look on him.
And I wondered--for one instant--whether my little thrill had gonethrough him. He was not a man of little thrills.
Then for a minute I was in misery. Of course I wanted to go too--heshook my hand without a word--but how could I? They would never haveme, a branded jailbird, in the Imperial Yeomanry! Raffles burst outlaughing; he had been looking very hard at me for about three seconds.
"You rabbit," he cried, "even to think of it! We might as well offerourselves to the Metropolitan Police Force. No, Bunny, we go out tothe Cape on our own, and that's where we enlist. One of theseregiments of irregular horse is the thing for us; you spent part ofyour pretty penny on horse-flesh, I believe, and you remember how Irode in the bush! We're the very men for them, Bunny, and they won'task to see our birthmarks out there. I don't think even my hoary lockswould put them off, but it would be too conspicuous in the ranks."
Our landlady first wept on hearing our determination, and then longedto have the pulling of certain whiskers (with the tongs, and theyshould be red-hot); but from that day, and for as many as were left tous, the good soul made more of us than ever. Not that she was at allsurprised; dear brave gentlemen who could look for burglars on theirbicycles at dead of night, it was only what you might expect of them,bless their lion hearts. I wanted to wink at Raffles, but he would notcatch my eye. He was a ginger-headed Raffles by the end of January,and it was extraordinary what a difference it made. His most elaboratedisguises had not been more effectual than this simple expedient, and,with khaki to complete the subdual of his individuality, he had everyhope of escaping recognition in the field. The man he dreaded was theofficer he had known in old days; there were ever so many of him at theFront; and it was to minimize this risk that we went out second-classat the beginning of February.
It was a weeping day, a day in a shroud, cold as clay, yet for thatvery reason an ideal day upon which to leave England for the sunnyFront. Y
et my heart was heavy as I looked my last at her; it was heavyas the raw, thick air, until Raffles came and leant upon the rail at myside.
"I know what you are thinking, and you've got to stop," said he. "It'son the knees of the gods, Bunny, whether we do or we don't, andthinking won't make us see over their shoulders."
II
Now I made as bad a soldier (except at heart) as Raffles made a goodone, and I could not say a harder thing of myself. My ignorance ofmatters military was up to that time unfathomable, and is stillprofound. I was always a fool with horses, though I did not think soat one time, and I had never been any good with a gun. The averageTommy may be my intellectual inferior, but he must know some part ofhis work better than I ever knew any of mine. I never even learnt tobe killed. I do not mean that I ever ran away. The South AfricanField Force might have been strengthened if I had.
The foregoing remarks do not express a pose affected out of superiorityto the usual spirit of the conquering hero, for no man was keener onthe war than I, before I went to it. But one can only write with gustoof events (like that little affair at Surbiton) in which one hasacquitted oneself without discredit, and I cannot say that of my partin the war, of which I now loathe the thought for other reasons. Thebattlefield was no place for me, and neither was the camp. Myineptitude made me the butt of the looting, cursing, swash-buckling lotwho formed the very irregular squadron which we joined; and it wouldhave gone hard with me but for Raffles, who was soon the darling devilof them all, but never more loyally my friend. Your firesidefire-eater does not think of these things. He imagines all thefighting to be with the enemy. He will probably be horrified to hearthat men can detest each other as cordially in khaki as in any otherwear, and with a virulence seldom inspired by the bearded dead-shot inthe opposite trench. To the fireside fire-eater, therefore (for youhave seen me one myself), I dedicate the story of Corporal Connal,Captain Bellingham, the General, Raffles, and myself.
I must be vague, for obvious reasons. The troop is fighting as Iwrite; you will soon hear why I am not; but neither is Raffles, norCorporal Connal. They are fighting as well as ever, those otherhard-living, harder-dying sons of all soils; but I am not going to saywhere it was that we fought with them. I believe that no body of menof equal size has done half so much heroic work. But they had gotthemselves a bad name off the field, so to speak; and I am not going tomake it worse by saddling them before the world with Raffles andmyself, and that ruffian Connal.
The fellow was a mongrel type, a Glasgow Irishman by birth andupbringing, but he had been in South Africa for years, and hecertainly knew the country very well. This circumstance, coupled withthe fact that he was a very handy man with horses, as all colonistsare, had procured him the first small step from the ranks whichfacilitates bullying if a man be a bully by nature, and is physicallyfitted to be a successful one. Connal was a hulking ruffian, and in mehad ideal game. The brute was offensive to me from the hour I joined.The details are of no importance, but I stood up to him at first inwords, and finally for a few seconds on my feet. Then I went down likean ox, and Raffles came out of his tent. Their fight lasted twentyminutes, and Raffles was marked, but the net result was dreadfullyconventional, for the bully was a bully no more.
But I began gradually to suspect that he was something worse. All thistime we were fighting every day, or so it seems when I look back.Never a great engagement, and yet never a day when we were wholly outof touch with the enemy. I had thus several opportunities of watchingthe other enemy under fire, and had almost convinced myself of thesystematic harmlessness of his own shooting, when a more glaringincident occurred.
One night three troops of our squadron were ordered to a certain pointwhither they had patrolled the previous week; but our own particulartroop was to stay behind, and in charge of no other than the villanouscorporal, both our officer and sergeant having gone into hospital withenteric. Our detention, however, was very temporary, and Connal wouldseem to have received the usual vague orders to proceed in the earlymorning to the place where the other three companies had camped. Itappeared that we were to form an escort to two squadron-wagonscontaining kits, provisions, and ammunition.
Before daylight Connal had reported his departure to the commandingofficer, and we passed the outposts at gray dawn. Now, though I wasperhaps the least observant person in the troop, I was not the leastwideawake where Corporal Connal was concerned, and it struck me at oncethat we were heading in the wrong direction. My reasons are notmaterial, but as a matter of fact our last week's patrol had pushed itskhaki tentacles both east and west; and eastward they had met withresistance so determined as to compel them to retire; yet it waseastward that we were travelling now. I at once spurred alongsideRaffles, as he rode, bronzed and bearded, with warworn wide-awake overeyes grown keen as a hawk's, and a cutty-pipe sticking straight outfrom his front teeth. I can see him now, so gaunt and grim anddebonair, yet already with much of the nonsense gone out of him, thoughI thought he only smiled on my misgivings.
"Did he get the instructions, Bunny, or did we? Very well, then; givethe devil a chance."
There was nothing further to be said, but I felt more crushed thanconvinced; so we jogged along into broad daylight, until Raffleshimself gave a whistle of surprise.
"A white flag, Bunny, by all my gods!"
I could not see it; he had the longest sight in all our squadron; butin a little the fluttering emblem, which had gained such a sinistersignificance in most of our eyes, was patent even to mine. A littlelonger, and the shaggy Boer was in our midst upon his shaggy pony, witha half-scared, half-incredulous look in his deep-set eyes. He was onhis way to our lines with some missive, and had little enough to say tous, though frivolous and flippant questions were showered upon him frommost saddles.
"Any Boers over there?" asked one, pointing in the direction in whichwe were still heading.
"Shut up!" interjected Raffles in crisp rebuke.
The Boer looked stolid but sinister.
"Any of our chaps?" added another.
The Boer rode on with an open grin.
And the incredible conclusion of the matter was that we were actuallywithin their lines in another hour; saw them as large as life within amile and a half on either side of us; and must every man of us havebeen taken prisoner had not every man but Connal refused to go one inchfurther, and had not the Boers themselves obviously suspected somesubtle ruse as the only conceivable explanation of so madcap amanoeuvre. They allowed us to retire without firing a shot; andretire you may be sure we did, the Kaffirs flogging their teams in afury of fear, and our precious corporal sullen but defiant.
I have said this was the conclusion of the matter, and I blush torepeat that it practically was. Connal was indeed wheeled up beforethe colonel, but his instructions were not written instructions, and helied his way out with equal hardihood and tact.
"You said 'over there,' sir," he stoutly reiterated; and the vaguenesswith which such orders were undoubtedly given was the saving of him forthe time being.
I need not tell you how indignant I felt, for one.
"The fellow is a spy!" I said to Raffles, with no nursery oath, as westrolled within the lines that night.
He merely smiled in my face.
"And have you only just found it out, Bunny? I have known it almostever since we joined; but this morning I did think we had him on toast."
"It's disgraceful that we had not," cried I. "He ought to have beenshot like a dog."
"Not so loud, Bunny, though I quite agree; but I don't regret what hashappened as much as you do. Not that I am less bloodthirsty than youare in this case, but a good deal more so! Bunny, I'm mad-keen onbowling him out with my own unaided hand--though I may ask you to takethe wicket. Meanwhile, don't wear all your animosity upon your sleeve;the fellow has friends who still believe in him; and there is no needfor you to be more openly his enemy than you were before."
Well, I can only vow that I did my best to follow thi
s sound advice;but who but a Raffles can control his every look? It was never myforte, as you know, yet to this day I cannot conceive what I did toexcite the treacherous corporal's suspicions. He was clever enough,however, not to betray them, and lucky enough to turn the tables on us,as you shall hear.
III
Bloemfontein had fallen since our arrival, but there was plenty offight in the Free Staters still, and I will not deny that it was thesegentry who were showing us the sport for which our corps came in.Constant skirmishing was our portion, with now and then an action thatyou would know at least by name, did I feel free to mention them. ButI do not, and indeed it is better so. I have not to describe the wareven as I saw it, I am thankful to say, but only the martial story ofus two and those others of whom you wot. Corporal Connal was thedangerous blackguard you have seen. Captain Bellingham is best knownfor his position in the batting averages a year or two ago, and for hissubsequent failure to obtain a place in any of the five Test Matches.But I only think of him as the officer who recognized Raffles.
We had taken a village, making quite a little name for it and forourselves, and in the village our division was reinforced by a freshbrigade of the Imperial troops. It was a day of rest, our first forweeks, but Raffles and I spent no small part of it in seeking high andlow for a worthy means of quenching the kind of thirst which used tobeset Yeomen and others who had left good cellars for the veldt. Theold knack came back to us both, though I believe that I alone wasconscious of it at the time; and we were leaving the house, splendidlysupplied, when we almost ran into the arms of an infantry officer, witha scowl upon his red-hot face, and an eye-glass flaming at us in thesun.
"Peter Bellingham!" gasped Raffles under his breath, and then wesaluted and tried to pass on, with the bottles ringing likechurch-bells under our khaki. But Captain Bellingham was a hard man.
"What have you men been doin'?" drawled he.
"Nothing, sir," we protested, like innocence with an injury.
"Lootin' 's forbidden," said he. "You had better let me see thosebottles."
"We are done," whispered Raffles, and straightway we made a sideboardof the stoop across which he had crept at so inopportune a moment. Ihad not the heart to raise my eyes again, yet it was many momentsbefore the officer broke silence.
"Uam Var!" he murmured reverentially at last. "And Long John of BenNevis! The first drop that's been discovered in the wholepsalm-singing show! What lot do you two belong to?"
I answered.
"I must have your names."
In my agitation I gave my real one. Raffles had turned away, as thoughin heart-broken contemplation of our lost loot. I saw the officerstudying his half-profile with an alarming face.
"What's YOUR name?" he rapped out at last.
But his strange, low voice said plainly that he knew, and Raffles facedhim with the monosyllable of confession and assent. I did not countthe seconds until the next word, but it was Captain Bellingham whouttered it at last.
"I thought you were dead."
"Now you see I am not."
"But you are at your old games!"
"I am not," cried Raffles, and his tone was new to me. I have seldomheard one more indignant. "Yes," he continued, "this is loot, and thewrong 'un will out. That's what you're thinking, Peter--I beg yourpardon--sir. But he isn't let out in the field! We're playing thegame as much as you are, old--sir."
The plural number caused the captain to toss me a contemptuous look."Is this the fellah who was taken when you swam for it?" he inquired,relapsing into his drawl. Raffles said I was, and with that took apassionate oath upon our absolute rectitude as volunteers. There couldbe no doubting him; but the officer's eyes went back at the bottles onthe stoop.
"But look at those," said he; and as he looked himself the light eyemelted in his fiery face. "And I've got Sparklets in my tent," hesighed. "You make it in a minute!"
Not a word from Raffles, and none, you may be sure, from me. Thensuddenly Bellingham told me where his tent was, and, adding that ourcase was one for serious consideration, strode in its directionwithout another word until some sunlit paces separated us.
"You can bring that stuff with you," he then flung over ashoulder-strap, "and I advise you to put it where you had it before."
A trooper saluted him some yards further on, and looked evilly at us aswe followed with our loot. It was Corporal Connal of ours, and thethought of him takes my mind off the certainly gallant captain who onlythat day had joined our division with the reinforcements. I could notstand the man myself. He added soda-water to our whiskey in his tent,and would only keep a couple of bottles when we came away. Softened bythe spirit, to which disuse made us all a little sensitive, our officerwas soon convinced of the honest part that we were playing for once,and for fifty minutes of the hour we spent with him he and Rafflestalked cricket without a break. On parting they even shook hands; thatwas Long John in the captain's head; but the snob never addressed asyllable to me.
And now to the gallows-bird who was still corporal of our troop: it wasnot long before Raffles was to have his wish and the traitor's wicket.We had resumed our advance, or rather our humble part in the greatsurrounding movement then taking place, and were under pretty heavyfire once more, when Connal was shot in the hand. It was a curiouscasualty in more than one respect, and nobody seems to have seen ithappen. Though a flesh wound, it was a bloody one, and that may be whythe surgeon did not at once detect those features which afterwardsconvinced him that the injury had been self-inflicted. It was theright hand, and until it healed the man could be of no further use inthe firing line; nor was the case serious enough for admission to acrowded field-hospital; and Connal himself offered his services ascustodian of a number of our horses which we were keeping out of harm'sway in a donga. They had come there in the following manner: Thatmorning we had been heliographed to reinforce the C.M.R., only to findthat the enemy had the range to a nicety when we reached the spot.There were trenches for us men, but no place of safety for our horsesnearer than this long and narrow donga which ran from within our linestowards those of the Boers. So some of us galloped them thither,six-in-hand, amid the whine of shrapnel and the whistle of shot. Iremember the man next me being killed by a shell with all his team, andthe tangle of flying harness, torn horseflesh, and crimson khaki, thatwe left behind us on the veldt; also that a small red flag,ludicrously like those used to indicate a putting-green, marked thesingle sloping entrance to the otherwise precipitous donga, which I forone was duly thankful to reach alive.
The same evening Connal, with a few other light casualties to assisthim, took over the charge for which he had volunteered and for which hewas so admirably fitted by his knowledge of horses and his generalexperience of the country; nevertheless, he managed to lose three orfour fine chargers in the course of the first night; and, early in thesecond, Raffles shook me out of a heavy slumber in the trenches wherewe had been firing all day.
"I have found the spot, Bunny," he whispered; "we ought to out himbefore the night is over."
"Connal?"
Raffles nodded.
"You know what happened to some of his horses last night? Well, he letthem go himself."
"Never!"
"I'm as certain of it," said Raffles, "as though I'd seen him do it;and if he does it again I shall see him. I can even tell you how ithappened. Connal insisted on having one end of the donga to himself,and of course his end is the one nearest the Boers. Well, then, hetells the other fellows to go to sleep at their end--I have it directfrom one of them--and you bet they don't need a second invitation. Therest I hope to see to-night."
"It seems almost incredible," said I.
"Not more so than the Light Horseman's dodge of poisoning the troughs;that happened at Ladysmith before Christmas; and two kind friends didfor that blackguard what you and I are going to do for this one, and afiring-party did the rest. Brutes! A mounted man's worth a file onfoot in this country, and well they know it
. But this beauty goesone better than the poison; that was wilful waste; but I'll eat mywideawake if our loss last night wasn't the enemy's double gain! Whatwe've got to do, Bunny, is to catch him in the act. It may meanwatching him all night, but was ever game so well worth the candle?"
One may say in passing that, at this particular point of contact, theenemy were in superior force, and for once in a mood as aggressive asour own. They were led with a dash, and handled with a skill, whichdid not always characterize their commanders at this stage of the war.Their position was very similar to ours, and indeed we were to spendthe whole of next day in trying with an equal will to turn each otherout. The result will scarcely be forgotten by those who recognize theoccasion from these remarks. Meanwhile it was the eve of battle (mostevenings were), and there was that villain with the horses in thedonga, and here were we two upon his track.
Raffles's plan was to reconnoitre the place, and then take up aposition from which we could watch our man and pounce upon him if hegave us cause. The spot that we eventually chose and stealthilyoccupied was behind some bushes through which we could see down intothe donga; there were the precious horses; and there sure enough wasour wounded corporal, sitting smoking in his cloak, some glimmeringthing in his lap.
"That's his revolver, and it's a Mauser," whispered Raffles. "Heshan't have a chance of using it on us; either we must be on him beforehe knows we are anywhere near, or simply report. It's easily provedonce we are sure; but I should like to have the taking of him too."
There was a setting moon. Shadows were sharp and black. The mansmoked steadily, and the hungry horses did what I never saw horses dobefore; they stood and nibbled at each other's tails. I was used tosleeping in the open, under the jewelled dome that seems so muchvaster and grander in these wide spaces of the earth. I lay listeningto the horses, and to the myriad small strange voices of the veldt, towhich I cannot even now put a name, while Raffles watched. "One headis better than two," he said, "when you don't want it to be seen." Wewere to take watch and watch about, however, and the other might sleepif he could; it was not my fault that I did nothing else; it wasRaffles who could trust nobody but himself. Nor was there any time forrecriminations when he did rouse me in the end.
But a moment ago, as it seemed to me, I had been gazing upward at thestars and listening to the dear, minute sounds of peace; and in anotherthe great gray slate was clean, and every bone of me set in plaster ofParis, and sniping beginning between pickets with the day. It was anoccasional crack, not a constant crackle, but the whistle of a bulletas it passed us by, or a tiny transitory flame for the one bit ofdetail on a blue hill-side, was an unpleasant warning that we two onours were a target in ourselves. But Raffles paid no attention totheir fire; he was pointing downward through the bushes to whereCorporal Connal stood with his back to us, shooing a last charger outof the mouth of the donga towards the Boer trenches.
"That's his third," whispered Raffles, "but it's the first I've seendistinctly, for he waited for the blind spot before the dawn. It'senough to land him, I fancy, but we mustn't lose time. Are you readyfor a creep?"
I stretched myself, and said I was; but I devoutly wished it was notquite so early in the morning.
"Like cats, then, till he hears, and then into him for all we're worth.He's stowed his iron safe away, but he mustn't have time even to feelfor it. You take his left arm, Bunny, and hang on to that like aferret, and I'll do the rest. Ready? Then now!"
And in less time than it would take to tell, we were over the lip ofthe donga and had fallen upon the fellow before he could turn his head;nevertheless, for a few instants he fought like a wild beast, striking,kicking, and swinging me off my feet as I obeyed my instructions to theletter, and stuck to his left like a leech. But he soon gave that up,panting and blaspheming, demanded explanations in his hybrid tonguethat had half a brogue and half a burr. What were we doing? What hadhe done? Raffles at his back, with his right wrist twisted round andpinned into the small of it, soon told him that, and I think the wordsmust have been the first intimation that he had as to who hisassailants were.
"So it's you two!" he cried, and a light broke over him. He was nolonger trying to shake us off, and now he dropped his curses also, andstood chuckling to himself instead. "Well," he went on, "you're bloodyliars both, but I know something else that you are, so you'd better letgo."
A coldness ran through me, and I never saw Raffles so taken aback.His grip must have relaxed for a fraction of time, for our captivebroke out in a fresh and desperate struggle, but now we pinned himtighter than ever, and soon I saw him turning green and yellow with thepain.
"You're breaking my wrist!" he yelled at last.
"Then stand still and tell us who we are."
And he stood still and told us our real names. But Raffles insisted onhearing how he had found us out, and smiled as though he had known whatwas coming when it came. I was dumbfounded.
The accursed hound had followed us that evening to Captain Bellingham'stent, and his undoubted cleverness in his own profession of spy haddone the rest.
"And now you'd better let me go," said the master of the situation, asI for one could not help regarding him.
"I'll see you damned," said Raffles, savagely.
"Then you're damned and done for yourself, my cocky criminal. Rafflesthe burglar! Raffles the society thief! Not dead after all, but'live and 'listed. Send him home and give him fourteen years, andwon't he like 'em, that's all!"
"I shall have the pleasure of hearing you shot first," retortedRaffles, through his teeth, "and that alone will make them bearable.Come on, Bunny, let's drive the swine along and get it over."
And drive him we did, he cursing, cajoling, struggling, gloating, andblubbering by turns. But Raffles never wavered for an instant, thoughhis face was tragic, and it went to my heart, where that look staysstill. I remember at the time, though I never let my hold relax, therewas a moment when I added my entreaties to those of our prisoner.Raffles did not even reply to me. But I was thinking of him, I swear.I was thinking of that gray set face that I never saw before or after.
"Your story will be tested," said the commanding officer, when Connalhad been marched to the guard-tent. "Is there any truth in his?"
"It is perfectly true, sir."
"And the notorious Raffles has been alive all these years, and you arereally he?"
"I am, sir."
"And what are you doing at the front?"
Somehow I thought that Raffles was going to smile, but the grim set ofhis mouth never altered, neither was there any change in the ashypallor which had come over him in the donga when Connal mouthed hisname. It was only his eyes that lighted up at the last question.
"I am fighting, sir," said he, as simply as any subaltern in the army.
The commanding officer inclined a grizzled head perceptibly, and nomore. He was not one of any school, our General; he had his own ways,and we loved both him and them; and I believe that he loved the roughbut gallant corps that bore his name. He once told us that he knewsomething about most of us, and there were things that Raffles had doneof which he must have heard. But he only moved his grizzled head.
"Did you know he was going to give you away?" he asked at length, witha jerk of it toward the guard-tent.
"Yes, sir."
"But you thought it worth while, did you?"
"I thought it necessary, sir."
The General paused, drumming on his table, making up his mind. Then hischin came up with the decision that we loved in him.
"I shall sift all this," said he. "An officer's name was mentioned,and I shall see him myself. Meanwhile you had better go on--fighting."
IV
Corporal Connal paid the penalty of his crime before the sun was farabove the hill held by the enemy. There was abundance ofcircumstantial evidence against him, besides the direct testimony ofRaffles and myself, and the wretch was shot at last with littleceremony and less shrift. And
that was the one good thing thathappened on the day that broke upon us hiding behind the bushesoverlooking the donga; by noon it was my own turn.
I have avoided speaking of my wound before I need, and from thepreceding pages you would not gather that I am more or less lame forlife. You will soon see now why I was in no hurry to recall theincident. I used to think of a wound received in one's country'sservice as the proudest trophy a man could acquire. But the sight ofmine depresses me every morning of my life; it was due for one thing tomy own slow eye for cover, in taking which (to aggravate my case) ourhardy little corps happened to excel.
The bullet went clean through my thigh, drilling the bone, but happilymissing the sciatic nerve; thus the mere pain was less than it mighthave been, but of course I went over in a light-brown heap. We wereadvancing on our stomachs to take the hill, and thus extend ourposition, and it was at this point that the fire became too heavy forus, so that for hours (in the event) we moved neither forward norback. But it was not a minute before Raffles came to me through thewhistling scud, and in another I was on my back behind a shallow rock,with him kneeling over me and unrolling my bandage in the teeth ofthat murderous fire. It was on the knees of the gods, he said, when Ibegged him to bend lower, but for the moment I thought his tone aschanged as his face had been earlier in the morning. To oblige me,however, he took more care; and, when he had done all that one comradecould for another, he did avail himself of the cover he had found forme. So there we lay together on the veldt, under blinding sun andwithering fire, and I suppose it is the veldt that I should describe,as it swims and flickers before wounded eyes. I shut mine to bring itback, but all that comes is the keen brown face of Raffles, still ashade paler than its wont; now bending to sight and fire; now peeringto see results, brows raised, eyes widened; anon turning to me with theword to set my tight lips grinning. He was talking all the time, butfor my sake, and I knew it. Can you wonder that I could not see aninch beyond him? He was the battle to me then; he is the whole war tome as I look back now.
"Feel equal to a cigarette? It will buck you up, Bunny. No, that onein the silver paper, I've hoarded it for this. Here's a light; and soBunny takes the Sullivan! All honor to the sporting rabbit!"
"At least I went over like one," said I, sending the only clouds intothe blue, and chiefly wishing for their longer endurance. I was as hotas a cinder from my head to one foot; the other leg was ceasing tobelong to me.
"Wait a bit," says Raffles, puckering; "there's a gray felt hat at deeplong-on, and I want to add it to the bag for vengeance....Wait--yes--no, no luck! I must pitch 'em up a bit more. Hallo!Magazine empty. How goes the Sullivan, Bunny? Rum to be smoking oneon the veldt with a hole in your leg!"
"It's doing me good," I said, and I believe it was. But Raffles laylooking at me as he lightened his bandolier.
"Do you remember," he said softly, "the day we first began to thinkabout the war? I can see the pink, misty river light, and feel thefirst bite there was in the air when one stood about; don't you wish wehad either here! 'Orful slorter, orful slorter;' that fellow's face, Isee it too; and here we have the thing he cried. Can you believe it'sonly six months ago?"
"Yes," I sighed, enjoying the thought of that afternoon less than hedid; "yes, we were slow to catch fire at first."
"Too slow," he said quickly.
"But when we did catch," I went on, wishing we never had, "we soonburnt up."
"And then went out," laughed Raffles gayly. He was loaded up again."Another over at the gray felt hat," said he; "by Jove, though, Ibelieve he's having an over at me!"
"I wish you'd be careful," I urged. "I heard it too."
"My dear Bunny, it's on the knees you wot of. If anything's down inthe specifications surely that is. Besides--that was nearer!"
"To you?"
"No, to him. Poor devil, he has his specifications too; it'scomforting to think that.... I can't see where that one pitched; itmay have been a wide; and it's very nearly the end of the over again.Feeling worse, Bunny?"
"No, I've only closed my eyes. Go on talking."
"It was I who let you in for this," he said, at his bandolier again.
"No, I'm glad I came out."
And I believe I still was, in a way; for it WAS rather fine to bewounded, just then, with the pain growing less; but the sensation wasnot to last me many minutes, and I can truthfully say that I havenever felt it since.
"Ah, but you haven't had such a good time as I have!"
"Perhaps not."
Had his voice vibrated, or had I imagined it? Pain-waves and loss ofblood were playing tricks with my senses; now they were quite dull, andmy leg alive and throbbing; now I had no leg at all, but more than allmy ordinary senses in every other part of me. And the devil'sorchestra was playing all the time, and all around me, on every classof fiendish instrument, which you have been made to hear for yourselvesin every newspaper. Yet all that I heard was Raffles talking.
"I have had a good time, Bunny."
Yes, his voice was sad; but that was all; the vibration must have beenin me.
"I know you have, old chap," said I.
"I am grateful to the General for giving me to-day. It may be thelast. Then I can only say it's been the best--by Jove!"
"What is it?"
And I opened my eyes. His were shining. I can see them now.
"Got him--got the hat! No, I'm hanged if I have; at least he wasn't init. The crafty cuss, he must have stuck it up on purpose. Anotherover ... scoring's slow.... I wonder if he's sportsman enough to takea hint? His hat-trick's foolish. Will he show his face if I show mine?"
I lay with closed ears and eyes. My leg had come to life again, andthe rest of me was numb.
"Bunny!"
His voice sounded higher. He must have been sitting upright.
"Well?"
But it was not well with me; that was all I thought as my lips made theword.
"It's not only been the best time I ever had, old Bunny, but I'm nothalf sure--"
Of what I can but guess; the sentence was not finished, and never couldbe in this world.
Raffles: Further Adventures of the Amateur Cracksman Page 7
