CHAPTER EIGHT.
RETRIBUTION--SHARP AND SORE.
"Now I'll race you, Mr Wagram."
"You'll do nothing of the sort. When I consented to take charge ofyou--a weighty responsibility in itself--I did so on condition that itwas at your own risk. In short, the average railway company couldn'thave contracted itself out of its liabilities more completely."
They were skimming along at the rate of about ten miles an hour, andthat on an ideal road, smooth, dustless, and shaded by overhangingwoods. Yvonne was trying how far she could ride with both hands off thehandlebars, and performing various reckless feats, to the no smallanxiety of her escort.
"Slow down here," said the latter. "This pace isn't safe; too manyrabbits."
"Too many rabbits?" echoed the girl. Then she gave forth a peal oflaughter.
"Yes; it's a screaming joke, isn't it? But it may surprise you to hearthat I've known of more than one bad spill caused by a fool of a rabbitdodging under the wheel, especially at night."
"Really? You're not stuffing me?"
"Well, can't you see for yourself how easily the thing might happen?They're crossing the road in gangs in both directions, and a rabbit issometimes as great a fool as a human being in crossing a road, in thatit is liable to change its mind and run back again. Result in eithercase, a bad spill for the bicyclist. You needn't go far for aninstance. Saunders, the chemist's assistant in Bassingham, was nearlykilled that way. He was coasting down Swanton Hill in the moonlight,and a rabbit ran under his wheel. He was chucked off, and gotconcussion of the brain."
"Fancy being killed by a rabbit!"
"Yes. Sounds funny, doesn't it? Here's Pritchett's."
They had emerged from the woods into an open road, beside which stood alarge farmhouse. The farmer was somewhere about the place; he couldn'tbe very far off, they were informed. His wife was away, but might beback any minute. Should Mr Pritchett be sent for?
"No, no," said Wagram; "just find a boy to show me where he is. I'll goto him. Yvonne, you'd better wait here for me; a rest will do you noharm."
"All safe. Don't be longer than you can help."
But Yvonne could not sit still for long, being of a restlesstemperament. She was soon outside again, and, promptly tiring of theducks and fowls, she wandered down the shady road they had just comealong.
Not far along this she came to a five-barred gate, opening into a broadgreen lane with high hedges, leading into the wood at right angles tothe main road. In these hedges several whitish objects caught herglance.
"Honeysuckles," she said to herself. "Beauties, too, if only I canreach them."
In a moment she had opened the gate and was in the lane. But thecoveted blossoms grew high, badly needing the aid of a hooked stick.She looked around for something approximating to one and found it. Thenfollowed a good deal of scrambling, and at last, hot and flushed and alittle scratched, Yvonne made her way back to the gate, trying to reduceinto portable size and shape the redundant stems of the fragrantcreeper. Being thus intent she did not look up until she had reachedthe gate, and then with a slight start, for she discovered that she wasno longer alone.
Standing on the other side of the gate, but facing her, with both elbowslounged over the top bar, was a pasty-faced, loosely-hung youth, clad ina bicycle suit of cheap build and loud design. This precious productnodded to her with a familiar grin but made no attempt to move.
"Will you make way for me, please? I wish to pass," she said crisply.
This time the fellow winked.
"Not until you've paid toll, dear," he said, with nauseous significance.
It was well for him that Yvonne's hands held nothing more formidablethan a couple of bunches of honeysuckle. Had they held a whip or aswitch it is possible that the pasty face of this cowardly cur mighthave been wealed in such wise as to last him for quite an indefinitetime.
"Will you stand away from that gate, please? I repeat that I want topass," she said in even more staccato tone than before. Her blue eyeshad grown steely, and there was a red flush in the centre of each cheek.She glanced furtively on the ground; if even she could find a stone fora weapon of defence; but the lane was soft and grassy, and stones therewere none. But all the fellow did was to drop his elbows farther downover the top bar, so as to hold the gate more effectually.
"Not until you've paid toll, dear," he repeated. "Come, now, don't bedisagreeable. It's the rule of the road to take toll of a pretty girlwhen you let her through a gate. You're only a kid, too, and I won'tgive it away. Ooh--hah--hah!"
It would be impossible to convey an idea of the combined terror andanguish conveyed in the above shout. Equally impossible would it be, wefear, to convey the attitude struck, in sudden and swift transition, byhim who uttered it. He bounded back from the gate like an india-rubberball thrown against it, and with like velocity, for a tough and suppleground-ash stick had descended upon that part of his person which hisforward lounge over the gate had left peculiarly suggestive of thepurpose; and with lightning-like swiftness again the stick came down,conveying to the recipient some such sensation as that of being cut inhalf by a red-hot bar. One appalled glimpse of Wagram's face, blazingwith white wrath above him, and the terrified bounder, ducking just intime to avoid being seized by the collar, turned and fled down the road,quite regardless, in his blind panic, of abandoning his bicycle, whichleaned against the hedge a few yards from the gate.
But for himself no more disastrous plan could he have conceived. Wagramhad no intention of letting him down so easily, and sprang in pursuit,with the result that in about a moment he was flogging his victim alongthe road at the best pace that either could by any possibility putforward. At last the fellow lay down, and howled for mercy.
Giving him one final, pitiless, cutting "swish" as he rolled over,Wagram ceased.
"You crawling cur," he said, still white with anger, and ratherbreathless with his exertion, "I won't even give you the privilege ofapologising. That is one reserved for some slight semblance of a man;but for a thing like you--Faugh!"
The thought seemed to sting him to such a degree of renewed ferocitythat his face changed again. Fearing a renewal of the chastisement thecringing one fairly whimpered.
"You've nearly killed me," he groaned. "I didn't mean any harm, sir; itwas only a bit of fun."
"Fun!" Wagram turned away. He could not trust himself until he had puta dozen yards between them. Then he turned again.
"Get your bicycle, and take yourself off," he said--"if you _can_ stillsit on it, that is." Then he returned to Yvonne.
"I am not pleased with you," he said. "You should not have gonewandering off on your own account like that. And I'm responsible foryou to your father. What'll he say? The only bright side to it is thatI was in time to thrash that unutterable young brute within an inch ofhis life. No, though; I didn't give him half enough," with a viciousswish of the ground-ash through the air.
"Don't be angry with me, Mr Wagram," she answered, and the sweet,fearless blue eyes were wet as she slipped her hand pleadingly throughhis arm; "I'm so sorry."
There was no resisting this, and he thawed at once.
"Well, we'll think no more about it, dear. There, now, don't cry."
"No, I won't." She dashed away her tears with a smile. She thought somuch of Wagram that a displeased word from him was more to this happy,sunny-hearted, spirited child than the occasion seemed to warrant. Thena shout behind caused them both to turn.
They had strolled about a hundred yards from the gate, and now they sawthat the fellow had regained his bicycle. He was standing in the middleof the road ready to mount, but at a safe distance.
"I'll have the law of you for this," he shouted, "you great, bullyingcoward. I'd like to see you hit a man your own size. I'll have athousand pounds out of you for this job. You've committed a savageassault on me, and you shall pay for it, by God! I know who you are, myfine fellow, and you'll hear more about this; no blooming
fear!"
"Oh, you haven't had enough?" called out Wagram. "All right. My bike'sjust close by; I'll get it and come after you, then you shall have somemore," holding up the ground-ash. "Go on; I'll soon catch you up."
This was a new aspect of the affair. The fellow seemed cowed, for heforthwith mounted his machine with some alacrity, and made off at a pacewhich must have caused him agonies in the light of the raw state towhich his seating properties had just been reduced.
This is how the situation had come about. When Wagram returned to thehouse with the farmer he found that Yvonne, tired of waiting, hadstrolled off down the road, intending to pick wild flowers, or otherwiseamuse herself. Without a thought of anything untoward he had followedher. The gate at which the affair began stood back from the road, andwas concealed by the jutting of the hedge from anyone approaching. Butthe girl's indignant voice, clear as a bell, fell upon his ear, andsimultaneously he had caught sight of the objectionable cad's netherextremities, as their owner, leaned over the gate. The idea suggested,to open his knife, and in a couple of quick, noiseless slashes to cutone of the fine, serviceable ground-ash plants growing on the bank, wasthe work of a moment. It was the work of another moment to stepnoiselessly behind the fellow just as he was delivering himself of hissecond insult. The rest we know.
"Well, child, we shall have a lovely ride back," he said. "I believeMrs Pritchett has got some rather good strawberries and cream for youbefore we start, to say nothing of some very inviting-looking home-madebread and butter. She has come in, you know."
They had reached the farmhouse by now, and the farmer and his wife werewaiting for them in the porch.
"Come in miss, do," said the latter. "I know you'll like this." Andshe beamed proudly, with a look at the spotless white tablecloth, andthe set-out of blushing strawberries and snowy cream, and the thin,tempting slices of brown bread and butter. "I've made you a nice cup oftea, too, Mr Wagram, sir. I don't know that you'll take a fancy to suchthings," added the good dame ruefully.
"I'll take an immense fancy to a glass or two of your husband'sexcellent home-brewed, Mrs Pritchett. Why, you're forgetting how I'veenjoyed it before to-day."
"Why, of course I am, sir," was the reply, immensely pleased; and in atrice the farmer returned with a foam-capped jug and a glass.
"What's this?" said Wagram, with reference to the latter. "Why,certainly you're going to keep me company, Pritchett."
"Well, sir, I shall be proud," was the answer, and the omission waspromptly rectified.
"Here are your healths," said Wagram, raising his glass. "I didn't seeyou yesterday, Mrs Pritchett. Weren't you able to get over? Of course,I don't mean necessarily for the service," he added quickly; "but youought to know by this time that all our friends are heartily welcome,irrespective of their creed."
"Well, sir, you see it was this way," began the good woman with someslight embarrassment.
"That's all right," interrupted Wagram genially. "Well, you'll know itnext time, I'm sure."
"That I shall, sir."
After a little more pleasant conversation they shook hands heartily withthe worthy couple and took their leave.
Just before the dressing-bell rang Haldane burst in upon Wagram in awholly unwonted state of excitement.
"What's this my little girl has been telling me, Wagram?" he said. "Imust go and kill the scoundrel at once. I'll borrow the Squire'sbiggest hunting-crop."
"You can't, Haldane, if only that we haven't the remotest idea who thesaid scoundrel is. It's probably some miserable counter-jumper doing abike round. But, sit tight; he's got enough to last him for many a longday."
"Did you cut him to ribbons? Did you?"
"I cut his small-clothes to ribbons. By George, he'll have to launchout in a new biking suit. No; great as the offence was, even I think hegot something like adequate compensation for it," added Wagram grimly,as he called to mind the fellow's insults--and their object.
And with this assurance Haldane had perforce to remain satisfied.