CHAPTER TWELVE.
AN AWKWARD PREDICAMENT.
For the next fortnight we were all very busy picking and packing fruit,and Ike was off every night about eleven or twelve with his load, comingback after market in the morning, and only doing a little work in thegarden of an afternoon, and seeing to the packing ready for a freshstart in the night.
The weather was glorious, and the pears came on so fast that Shock and Iwere always picking so that they might not be too ripe.
It was a delightful time, for the novelty having gone off I was able todo my work with ease. I did not try to move the ladder any more, so Ihad no accident of that kind; and though I slipped once or twice, I wasable to save myself, and began to feel quite at home up in the trees.
Every now and then if Shock was anywhere near he played some monkeytrick or another. His idea evidently was to frighten me by seeming tofall or by hanging by hand or leg. But he never succeeded now, for Iknew him too well; and though I admired his daring at times, when hethrew himself backwards on the ladder and slid down head foremostclinging with his legs, I did not run to his help.
In spite of the conversation I had had with him in the shed, we were nobetter friends next time we met, or rather when we nearly met, forwhenever he saw me coming he turned his back and went off in anotherdirection.
As I said, a fortnight had passed, and the fruit-picking was at itsheight as far as pears and apples went, when one night, after a very hotday, when the cart was waiting in the yard, loaded up high with busheland half-bushel baskets, and the horse was enjoying his corn, andrattling his chain by the manger, I left Old Brownsmith smoking his pipeand reading a seed-list, and strolled out into the garden.
It was a starlight night, and very cool and pleasant, as I went down oneof the paths and then back along another, trying to make out theblossoms of the nasturtiums that grew so thickly along the borders justwhere I was.
The air smelt so sweet and fresh that it seemed to do me good, but I wasthinking that I must be getting back into the house and up to my bed,when the fancy took me that I should like to go down the path as far asMrs Beeton's house, and look at the window where I used to sit whenShock pelted me with clay.
The path was made with ashes, so that my footsteps were very quiet, andas I walked in the shadow of a large row of pear-trees I was almostinvisible. In fact I could hardly see my own hand.
All at once I stopped short, for I heard a peculiar scratching noise anda whispering, and, though I could hardly distinguish anything, I wasperfectly sure that somebody had climbed to the top of the wall, and wassitting there with a leg over our side, for I heard it rustling amongstthe plum boughs.
"It's all right," was whispered; and then there was more scuffling, andit seemed to me that some one else had climbed up.
Then another and another, and then they seemed to pull up another one,so that I believed there were five people on the wall.
Then came some whispering, and I felt sure that they were boys, for onesaid:
"Now, then, all together!" in a boyish voice, when there was a lot ofrustling and scratching, and I could hear the plum-tree branches trainedto the wall torn down, one breaking right off, as the intruders droppedover into our garden.
For the moment I was puzzled. Then I knew what it meant, and a flush ofangry indignation came into my cheeks.
"Boys after our pears!" I said to myself as my fists clenched. For Ihad become so thoroughly at home at Old Brownsmith's that everythingseemed to belong to me, and I felt it was my duty to defend it.
I listened to make sure, and heard a lot of whispering going on as themarauders crossed the path I was on, rustled by amongst the gooseberrybushes, and went farther into the garden.
"They're after the _Marie Louise_ pears," I thought; and I was about torun and shout at them, for I knew that would startle them away; but onsecond thoughts I felt as if I should like to catch some of them, andturning, I ran softly back up the path, meaning to tell Mr Brownsmith.
But before I had reached the end of the path another idea had occurredto me. Old Brownsmith would not be able to catch one of the boys, butShock would if he was up in the loft, and in the hope that he wassleeping there I ran to the foot of the steps, scrambled up, and pushingback the door, which was only secured with a big wooden latch, I creptin as cautiously as I could.
"Shock!" I whispered. "Shock! Are you here?"
I listened, but there was not a sound.
"Shock!" I whispered again. "Shock!"
"If ver don't go I'll heave the hay-fork at yer," came in a low angryvoice.
"No, no: don't," I said. "I want you. Come on, and bring a big stick:there's some boys stealing the pears."
There was a rustle and a scramble, and Shock was by my side, more fullof life and excitement than I had ever noticed him before.
"Pears?" he whispered hoarsely; "arter the pears? Where? Where arethey?"
He kept on the move, making for the door and coming back, and behavingaltogether like a dog full of expectation of a rush after some wildcreature in a hunt.
"Be quiet or we sha'n't catch them," I whispered. "Some boys haveclimbed over the wall, and are after the _Marie Louise_ pears."
He stopped short suddenly.
"Yah!" he cried, "they ain't. It's your larks."
"You stupid fellow! I tell you they are."
"Mary Louisas ain't ripe," he cried.
"Don't care; they've gone after them. Come, and bring a stick."
"Fain larks," he said dubiously.
"Just as if I would play tricks with you!" I cried impatiently.
"No, you wouldn't, would yer?" he said hoarsely. "Wouldn't be hard on achap. Stop a minute."
He rustled off amongst the straw, and I heard a rattling noise and thena chuckle, and Shock was back to hand me a stick as thick as my finger.
"Hezzles," he whispered--"nut hezzle. Come along. You go first."
Though I had roused Shock out of bed he had no dressing to do, andfollowing me down the ladder he walked quickly after me down one of thepaths, then to the right along another till we came to a corner, when weboth stopped and listened.
Shock began to hiss very softly, as if he were a steam-engine with thevapour escaping from the safety-valve, as we heard, about fifty yardsfrom us, the rustling of the pear-trees, the heavy shake of a bough, andthen through the pitchy darkness _whop! whop! whop! whop_! as the pearsfell on to the soft ground.
"You go this way," I whispered to Shock, "and I'll go that way, and thenwe'll rush in and catch them."
"Yes," he said back. "Hit hard, and mind and get hold o' the bag."
We were separating when he caught hold of my arm.
"'Old 'ard," he whispered. "Let's rush 'em together."
In the darkness perhaps his was the better plan. At all events weadopted it, and taking hold of hands we advanced on tiptoe tremblingwith expectation, our sticks grasped, and every now and then the pendentbranches of some tree rustling in and sweeping our faces. And all thetime, just in front, we could hear the hurried shaking of boughs, thefall of the pears, and tittering and whispering as the party seemed tobe picking up the spoil.
"We shall have too many," whispered a voice just before us.
"Never mind; let's fill the bag. Go it, boys."
"Hush! Some one'll hear."
"Not they. Go on. Here's a bough loaded. Oh, I say!" Shock gave myhand a nip to which I responded, and then all at once from under thetree where we stood we made a rush at the indistinct figures we couldsometimes make out a few yards away.
_Whish, rush, whack_!
"I say what are you doing of?"
"Oh!"
"Run! run!"
"Oh!"
These ejaculations were mingled with the blows dealt by our sticks,several of which fell upon heads, backs, legs, and arms, anywhere,though more struck the trees; and in the excitement one I delivered didno end of mischief to a young pear-tree, and brought down a shower offruit upon m
y head.
It was all the work of a few moments. At the first the marauding partythought it was some trick of a companion; directly after they scatteredand ran, under the impression that Old Brownsmith and all his men werein pursuit.
As for me, I felt red-hot with excitement, and found myself after a dashthrough some gooseberry bushes, whose pricking only seemed to give mefresh energy, running along a path after one boy at whom I kept cuttingwith my hazel stick.
At every stroke there was a howl from the boy, who kept on shouting ashe ran:
"Oh! please, sir--oh! sir--don't, sir--oh! pray, sir!"
In my hard-heartedness and excitement I showed no mercy, but every timeI got near enough as we panted on I gave him a sharp cut, and he wouldhave been punished far worse if all at once I had not run right into ahanging bough of one of the pears, and gone down backwards, while when Iscrambled up again my stick was gone.
I felt that if I waited to search for it I should lose the boy I meantto make a prisoner, and ran on in the direction where I could hear hissteps.
Knowing the garden as I did I was able to make a cut so as to recoverthe lost ground, for I realised that he was making for the wall, and Iwas just in time to catch him as he scrambled up one of the trainedtrees, and had his chest on the top.
He would have been over in another second or two had I not made a jumpat his legs, one of which I caught, and, twisting my arms round it, Iheld on with all my might.
"Oh! oh!" he yelled pitifully. "Pray let me go, sir. I'll never comeno more, sir. Help! oh my! help!"
"Come down," I panted as well as I could for want of breath, "comedown!" and I gave the leg I held a tremendous shake.
"Oh!--oh! Pray let me go this time, sir."
"Come down," I cried again fiercely, and I nearly dragged him from thewall, as I held on with all my might.
"No, sir! oh, sir! It wasn't me, sir. It was--oh, please let me go!"
The voice sounded as if it were on the outside of the wall, as mycaptive hung by his elbows and chest, while I could feel the leg I heldquiver and tremble as I tugged hard to get its owner down into thegarden; but distant and muffled as that voice was, it seemed familiarwhen it yelled again:
"Oh I pray let me go this time, sir."
"No," I shouted, as I gave the leg a snatch and hung on, "Come down, youthieving rascal, come down."
"Why, it's you, is it?" came from the top of the wall, a little plainernow.
"What! George Day!" I exclaimed, but without relaxing my hold.
"Oh, you sneak!" he cried. "Let go, will you."
"No," I cried stoutly. "Come down."
"Sha'n't. It ain't your place. Let go, you sneak."
"I sha'n't," I cried angrily. "Come down, you thief."
"If you call me a thief I'll come down and half smash you. Let go!"
His courage returned as he found out who was his captor, and he kickedout savagely, but I held on.
"Do you hear?" he cried. "Here, let go, and I'll give you a fourpennypiece out of my next pocket-money."
"You come down to Mr Brownsmith," I cried.
"Get out! You know who I am: George Day."
"I know you're a thief, and I shall take you up to Mr Brownsmith," Isaid, "and here he comes."
"If you don't let go," he cried with a sudden access of fury, "I'll justcome down and I'll--"
He did not finish his threat. I daresay it would have been somethingvery dreadful, but I was not in the least frightened as I held on; butas he clung to the big quaint coping of the wall he suddenly gave two orthree such tremendous kicks that one of them, aided by his getting hisfree foot on my shoulder, was given with such force that I was drivenbackwards, and after staggering a few steps, caught my heel and camedown in a sitting position upon the path.
I leaped to my feet again, but only just in time to hear a scufflingnoise on the top of the wall, the sound of some one dropping on theother side, and then _pat, pat, pat_, steps fast repeated, as myprisoner ran away.
"Ah!" I exclaimed, with a stamp of the foot in my disappointment.
"Chiv-ee! Why, ho! Where are yer?"
"Here, Shock!" I cried in answer to the shout on my right, and the boycame running up.
"Got him?"
"No," I replied. "He climbed up the wall and kicked me backwards.Didn't you catch one?"
"No. They skiddled off like rabbuts, and the one I tried to run downdodged me in the dark, and when I heerd him he was close up to the fencet'other side, and got away. Didn't I give it some of 'em though!"
"Oh! I do wish we had caught one," I exclaimed; and then I felt as if Idid not wish so, especially as the boy I had chased was George Day.
"They didn't get the pears," said Shock suddenly; and now it struck methat we had suddenly grown to be wonderfully talkative, and the best offriends.
"No," I replied, "I don't think they got the pears. Let's go and see."
We trudged off, I for my part feeling very stiff, and as if all theexcitement had gone out of the adventure; and in a minute we werefeeling about under the pear-trees, and kicking against fallen fruit.
"Here she is," said Shock suddenly. "Big bag. Stodge full."
I ran to him, and was in the act of passing my hands over the bulgingbag when I uttered a faint cry of horror, for something soft seemed tohave dropped upon my back, and a voice from out of the darknessexclaimed:
"What are you boys doing here?"
At the same moment I knew that it was one of the cats that had leapedupon my back, and Old Brownsmith who was speaking.
"We have been after some boys who were stealing the pears, sir," I said.
"Were they?" cried the old man sternly; "and I've come and caught them.You, Shock, bring that bag up to the door."
Shock seized and shouldered the bag, and we followed the old gentlemanto the house; but though I spoke two or three times he made no reply,and I felt too much hurt by his suspicions to say more.
There was a large house lantern alight in the kitchen, as if the oldgentleman had been about to bring it down the garden with him and hadaltered his mind, and the first thing he did was to open the lantern,take out the candle in his fingers, and hold it up so as to look at eachof us in turn, frowning and suspicious, while we shrank and half-closedour eyes, dazzled by the light.
Then he turned his attention to the big bag which Shock had placed uponthe table, the top of which opened out, and a pear or two rolled uponthe floor as soon as it was released.
"Humph! Pillow-case, eh?" said the old man, and his face brightened asif the suspicion was being cleared away. "Who heard 'em?"
"I did, sir," I cried; and I told him how I had wakened up Shock, and ofour fight; but I did not mention George Day's name, and I did not meanto do so unless I was asked, for it seemed to be so shocking for a boylike that to be charged with stealing fruit.
"Humph! Ought to have caught some of the dogs! but I say, did you hit'em hard?"
"As hard as I could, sir," I replied innocently.
"Hah! aha! That's right. Young scoundrels. Spoilt a basket of pearsthat were not ripe. Young dogs! I'll put glass bottles all along thewalls, and see how they like that. There, be off to bed."
I hesitated.
"Well," he said, "what is it?"
"You don't think it was I who went to steal the pears, sir?" I saiduneasily.
"My good boy, no!" he said. "Pooh! nonsense! Looked like it at first.Caught you dirty-handed. Good night!"
He turned away, and I ran into the yard, where Shock was slowly goingback to his hole in the straw.
"Good night, Shock!" I said.
He stopped without turning round, and did not reply. It was as if thesulky morose fit had come over him again, but it did not last, for hehalf turned his head and said:
"I hit one on 'em such a crack on the nut."
Then he went to the ladder and climbed up into the loft, and I stoodlistening to him as he nestled down in amongst the straw. Then OldBrownsmith
came to the back-door with the lantern and called me in to goup to my room.
Brownsmith's Boy: A Romance in a Garden Page 12
