brief but tender.
By-and-bye the tutor came in, looking tired; and Archie exulted overhim, as cocks crow over a fallen foe, because he was down first.
Mr Walton was a young man of five or six and twenty, and had been inthe family for over three years, so he was quite an old friend.Moreover, he was a man after the Squire's own heart; he was manly, andtaught Archie manliness, and had a quiet way of helping him out of everydifficulty of thought or action. Besides, Archie and Rupert liked him.
After breakfast Archie went up to see his brother, then downstairs, andstraight away out through the servants' hall to the barn-yards. He hadshowers of blessings, and not a few gifts from the servants; but oldScotch Kate was most sincere, for this somewhat aged spinster reallyloved the lad.
At the farm-steading he had many friends to see, both hairy andfeathered. He found some oats, which he scattered among the last, andlaughed to see them scramble, and to hear them talk. Well, Archie atall events believed firmly that fowls can converse. One very lovely redgame bird, came boldly up and pecked his oats from Archie's palm. Thiswas the new Cock Jock, a son of the old bird, which the fox had taken.The Ann hen was there too. She was bold, and bonnie, and saucy, andseemed quite to have given up mourning for her lost lord. Ann came atArchie's call, flew on to his wrist, and after steadying herself andgrumbling a little because Archie moved his arm too much, she shoved herhead and neck into the boy's pocket, and found oats in abundance. Thatwas Ann's way of doing business, and she preferred it.
The ducks were insolent and noisy; the geese, instead of taking higherviews of life, as they are wont to do, bent down their stately necks,and went in for the scramble with the rest. The hen turkeys grumbled agreat deal, but got their share nevertheless; while the great gobblerstrutted around doing attitudes, and rustling himself, his neck and headblood-red and blue, and every feather as stiff as an oyster-shell. Helooked like some Indian chief arrayed for the war-path.
Having hurriedly fed his feathered favourites, Archie went bounding offto let out a few dogs. He opened the door and went right into theirhouse, and the consequence was that one of the Newfoundlands threw himover in the straw, and licked his face; and the Skye terriers cametrooping round, and they also paid their addresses to him, some of theyoung ones jumping over his head, while Archie could do nothing forlaughing. When he got up he sang out "Attention!" and lo! and beholdthe dogs, every one looking wiser than another, some with theirconsidering-caps on apparently, and their heads held knowingly to oneside.
"Attention!" cried the boy. "I am going to-day to shoot the fox thatran off with the hen Ann's husband. I shall want some of you. YouBounder, and you little Fuss, and you Tackier, come."
And come those three dogs did, while the rest, with lowered tails andpitiful looks, slunk away to their straw. Bounder was an enormousNewfoundland, and Fuss and Tackier were terriers, the former a Skye, thelatter a very tiny but exceedingly game Yorkie.
Yonder, gun on shoulder, came tall, stately Branson, the keeper, clad invelveteen, with gaiters on. Branson was a Northumbrian, and a grandspecimen too. He might have been somewhat slow of speech, but he wasnot slow to act whenever it came to a scuffle with poachers, and thislast was not an unfrequent occurrence.
"My gun, Branson?"
"It's in the kitchen, Master Archie, clean and ready; and old Kate hasput a couple of corks in it, for fear it should go off."
"Oh, it is loaded then--really loaded!"
"Ay, lad; and I've got to teach you how to carry it. This is your firstday on the hill, mind, and a rough one it is."
Archie soon got his leggings on, and his shot-belt and shooting-cap andeverything else, in true sportsman fashion.
"What!" he said at the hall door, when he met Mr Walton, "am I to havemy tutor with me _to-day_?"
He put strong emphasis on the last word.
"You know, Mr Walton, that I am ten to-day. I suppose I am conceited,but I almost feel a man."
His tutor laughed, but by no means offensively.
"My dear Archie, I _am_ going to the hill; but don't imagine I'm goingas your tutor, or to look after you. Oh, no! I want to go as yourfriend."
This certainly put a different complexion on the matter.
Archie considered for a moment, then replied, with charmingcondescension:
"Oh, yes, of course, Mr Walton! You are welcome, I'm sure, to come _asa friend_."
CHAPTER THREE.
A DAY OF ADVENTURE.
If we have any tears all ready to flow, it is satisfactory to know thatthey will not be required at present. If we have poetic fire andgenius, even these gifts may for the time being be held in reservation.No "Ode to a Dying Fox" or "Elegy on the Death and Burial of Reynard"will be necessary. For Reynard did not die; nor was he shot; at least,not sufficiently shot.
In one sense this was a pity. It resulted in mingled humiliation andbitterness for Archie and for the dogs. He had pictured to himself abrief moment of triumph when he should return from the chase, bearing inhis hand the head of his enemy--the murderer of the Ann hen's husband--and having the brush sticking out of his jacket pocket; return to becrowned, figuratively speaking, with festive laurel by Elsie, hissister, and looked upon by all the servants with a feeling of awe as afuture Nimrod.
In another sense it was not a pity; that is, for the fox. This sablegentleman had enjoyed a good run, which made him hungry, and as happy asonly a fox can be who knows the road through the woods and wilds to adistant burrow, where a bed of withered weeds awaits him, and where anice fat hen is hidden. When Reynard had eaten his dinner and lickedhis chops, he laid down to sleep, no doubt laughing in his paw at theboy's futile efforts to capture or kill him, and promising himself thepleasure of a future moonlight visit to Burley Old Farm, from which heshould return with the Ann hen herself on his shoulder.
Yes, Archie's hunt had been unsuccessful, though the day had not endedwithout adventure, and he had enjoyed the pleasures of the chase.
Bounder, the big Newfoundland, first took up the scent, and away he wentwith Fuss and Tackier at his heels, the others following as well as theycould, restraining the dogs by voice and gesture. Through the sprucewoods, through a patch of pine forest, through a wild tangle of tall,snow-laden furze, out into the open, over a stream, and across a widestretch of heathery moorland, round quarries and rocks, and once moreinto a wood. This time it was stunted larch, and in the very centre ofit, close by a cairn of stones, Bounder said--and both Fuss and Tackieracquiesced--that Reynard had his den. But how to get him out?
"You two little chaps get inside," Bounder seemed to say. "I'll standhere; and as soon as he bolts, I shall make the sawdust fly out of him,you see!"
Escape for the fox seemed an impossibility. He had more than oneentrance to his den, but all were carefully blocked up by the keeperexcept his back and front door. Bounder guarded the latter, Archie wentto watch by the former.
"Keep quiet and cool now, and aim right behind the shoulder."
Quiet and cool indeed! how could he? Under such exciting circumstances,his heart was thumping like a frightened pigeon's, and his cheeksburning with the rush of blood to them.
He knelt down with his gun ready, and kept his eyes on the hole. Heprayed that Reynard might not bolt by the front door, for that wouldspoil his sport.
The terrier made it very warm for the fox in his den. Small though thelittle Yorkie was, his valour was wonderful. Out in the open Reynardcould have killed them one by one, but here the battle was unfair, soafter a few minutes of a terrible scrimmage the fox concluded to bolt.
Archie saw his head at the hole, half protruded then drawn back, and hisheart thumped now almost audibly.
Would he come? Would he dare it?
Yes, the fox dared it, and came. He dashed out with a wild rush, like alittle hairy hurricane. "Aim behind the shoulder!" Where was theshoulder? Where was anything but a long sable stream of somethingfeathering through the snow?
Bang! bang! both barrels.
And down rolled the fox. Yes, no. Oh dear,it was poor Fuss! The fox was half a mile away in a minute.
Fuss lost blood that stained the snow brown as it fell on it. AndArchie shed bitter tears of sorrow and humiliation.
"Oh, Fuss, my dear, dear doggie!" he cried, "_I_ didn't mean to hurtyou."
The Skye terrier was lying on the keeper's knees and having a snowstyptic.
Soon the blood ceased to flow, and Fuss licked his young master's hands,and presently got down and ran around and wanted to go to earth again;and though Archie felt he could never forgive himself for hisawkwardness, he was so happy to see that Fuss was not much the worseafter all.
But there would be no triumphant home-returning; he even began to doubtif ever he would be a sportsman. Then Branson consoled him, and toldhim he himself didn't do any better when he first took to the hill.
"It is well," said Mr Walton, laughing, "that you didn't shoot meinstead."
"Ye-es," said Archie slowly, looking at Fuss. It was evident he was notquite convinced that Mr Walton was right.
"Fuss is none the worse," cried Branson. "Oh, I can tell you it doesthese Scotch dogs good to have a drop or two of lead in them! It makesthem all the steadier, you know."
About an hour after, to his exceeding delight, Archie shot a hare. Ohjoy! Oh day of days! His first hare! He felt a man now, from the topof his Astrachan cap to the toe caps of his shooting-boots.
Bounder picked it up, and brought it and laid it at Archie's feet.
"Good dog! you shall carry it."
Bounder did so most delightedly.
They stopped at an outlying cottage on their way home. It was a long,low, thatched building, close by a wood, a very humble dwelling indeed.
A gentle-faced widow woman opened to their knock. She looked scaredwhen she saw them, and drew back.
"Oh!" she said, "I hope Robert hasn't got into trouble again?"
"No, no, Mrs Cooper, keep your mind easy, Bob's a' right at present.We just want to eat our bit o' bread and cheese in your sheiling."
"And right welcome ye are, sirs. Come in to the fire. Here's a broomto brush the snow fra your leggins."
Bounder marched in with the rest, with as much swagger and independenceas if the cottage belonged to him. Mrs Cooper's cat determined todefend her hearth and home against such intrusion, and when Bounderapproached the former, she stood on her dignity, back arched, tailerect, hair on end from stem to stern, with her ears back, and greenfire lurking in her eyes. Bounder stood patiently looking at her. Hewould not put down the hare, and he could not defend himself with it inhis mouth; so he was puzzled. Pussy, however, brought matters to acrisis. She slapped his face, then bolted right up the chimney.Bounder put down the hare now, and gave a big sigh as he lay down besideit.
"No, Mrs Cooper, Bob hasn't been at his wicked work for some time.He's been gi'en someone else a turn I s'pose, eh?"
"Oh, sirs," said the widow, "it's no wi' my will he goes poachin'! Ifhis father's heid were above the sod he daren't do it. But, poor Bob,he's all I have in the world, and he works hard--sometimes."
Branson laughed. It was a somewhat sarcastic laugh; and young Archiefelt sorry for Bob's mother, she looked so unhappy.
"Ay, Mrs Cooper, Bob works hard sometimes, especially when settin'girns for game. Ha! ha! Hullo!" he added, "speak of angels and theyappear. Here comes Bob himself!"
Bob entered, looked defiantly at the keeper, but doffed his cap andbowed to Mr Walton and Archie. "Mother," he said, "I'm going out."
"Not far, Bob, lad; dinner's nearly ready."
Bob had turned to leave, but he wheeled round again almost fiercely. Hewas a splendid young specimen of a Borderer, six feet if an inch, andwell-made to boot. No extra flesh, but hard and tough as copper bolts."Denner!" he growled. "Ay, denner to be sure--taties and salt! Ha! andgentry live on the fat o' the land! If I snare a rabbit, if I dare tocatch one o' God's own cattle on God's own hills, I'm a felon; I'm to betaken and put in gaol--shot even if I dare resist! Yas, mother, I'll bein to denner," and away he strode.
"Potatoes and salt!" Archie could not help thinking about that. And hewas going away to his own bright home and to happiness. He glancedround him at the bare, clay walls, with their few bits of daubs ofpictures, and up at the blackened rafters, where a cheese stood--onepoor, hard cheese--and on which hung some bacon and onions. He couldnot repress a sigh, almost as heart-felt as that which Bounder gave whenhe lay down beside the hare.
When the keeper and tutor rose to go, Archie stopped behind with Bounderjust a moment. When they came out, Bounder had no hare.
Yet that hare was the first Archie had shot, and--well, he _had_ meantto astonish Elsie with this proof of his prowess; but the hare wasbetter to be left where it was--he had earned a blessing.
The party were in the wood when Bob Cooper, the poacher, sprang up as iffrom the earth and confronted them.
"I came here a purpose," he said to Branson. "This is not your wood;even if it was I wouldn't mind. What did you want at my mother'shoose?"
"Nothing; and I've nothing to say to ye."
"Haven't ye? But ye were in our cottage. It's no for nought the glaudwhistles."
"I don't want to quarrel," said Branson, "especially after speakin' toyour mother; she's a kindly soul, and I'm sorry for her and for youyoursel', Bob."
Bob was taken aback. He had expected defiance, exasperation, and he wasprepared to fight.
Archie stood trembling as these two athletes looked each other in theeyes.
But gradually Bob's face softened; he bit his lip and moved impatiently.The allusion to his mother had touched his heart.
"I didn't want sich words, Branson. I--may be I don't deserve 'em. I--hang it all, give me a grip o' your hand!"
Then away went Bob as quickly as he had come.
Branson glanced at his retreating figure one moment.
"Well," he said, "I never thought I'd shake hands wi' Bob Cooper! Nomatter; better please a fool than fecht 'im."
"Branson!"
"Yes, Master Archie."
"I don't think Bob's a fool; and I'm sure that, bad as he is, he loveshis mother."
"Quite right, Archie," said Mr Walton.
Archie met his father at the gate, and ran towards him to tell him allhis adventures about the fox and the hare. But Bob Cooper and everybodyelse was forgotten when he noticed what and whom he had behind him. The"whom" was Branson's little boy, Peter; the "what" was one of thewildest-looking--and, for that matter, one of the wickedest-looking--Shetland ponies it is possible to imagine. Long-haired, shaggy, droll,and daft; but these adjectives do not half describe him.
"Why, father, wherever--"
"He's your birthday present, Archie."
The boy actually flushed red with joy. His eyes sparkled as he glancedfrom his father to the pony and back at his father again.
"Dad," he said at last, "I know now what old Kate means about `her cupbeing full.' Father, my cup overflows!"
Well, Archie's eyes were pretty nearly overflowing anyhow.
CHAPTER FOUR.
IN THE OLD CASTLE TOWER.
They were all together that evening in the green parlour as usual, andeverybody was happy and merry. Even Rupert was sitting up and laughingas much as Elsie. The clatter of tongues prevented them hearing Mary'stapping at the door; and the carpet being so thick and soft, she was notseen until right in the centre of the room.
"Why, Mary," cried Elsie, "I got such a start, I thought you were aghost!"
Mary looks uneasily around her.
"There be one ghost, Miss Elsie, comes out o' nights, and walks aboutthe old castle."
"Was that what you came in to tell us, Mary?"
"Oh, no, sir! If ye please, Bob Cooper is in the yard, and he wants tospeak to Master Archie. I wouldn't let him go if I were you, ma'am."
Archie's mother smiled. Mary was a privileged little parlour maiden,and ventured at times to make suggestions.
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"Go and see what he wants, dear," said his mother to Archie.
It was a beautiful clear moonlight night, with just a few whitesnow-laden clouds lying over the woods, no wind and never a hush savethe distant and occasional yelp of a dog.
"Bob Cooper!"
"That's me, Master Archie. I couldn't rest till I'd seen ye the night.The hare--"
"Oh! that's really nothing, Bob Cooper!"
"But allow me to differ. It's no' the hare altogether. I know where tofind fifty. It was the way it was given. Look here, lad, and this iswhat I come to say, Branson and you have been too much for Bob Cooper.The day I went to that wood to thrash him, and I'd hae killed him, an Icould. Ha! ha! I shook hands with him! Archie Broadbent, yourfather's a gentleman, and they say you're a chip o' t'old block. Ibelieve 'em, and look, see, lad, I'll never be seen in your preservesagain. Tell Branson so. There's my hand on't. Nay, never be afear'dto touch it. Good-night. I feel better now."
And away strode the poacher, and Archie could hear the sound of hisheavy tread crunching through the snow long after he was out of sight.
"You seem to have made a friend, Archie," said his father, when the boyreported the interview.
"A friend," added Mr Walton with a quiet smile, "that I