CHAPTER XI.
ENEMY'S COUNTRY.
He presently came to the wooden bridge and crossed it. He was now onthe outskirts of the town, and in enemy's country. So, more frometiquette than precaution, he took the shelter of a wall, glidedthrough a plantation, among the withy roots of which his footpresently caught in a brass "grin," or rabbit's snare. Hugh Johngrubbed it up gratefully and pocketed it. He had no objectionswhatever to spoiling the Egyptians.
He was now in butcher Donnan's pastures, where many fore-doomed sheep,in all the bliss of ignorance, waited their turns to be made intomutton. Very anxiously Hugh John scrutinised each one. He wanderedround and round till he had made certain that Donald was not there.
At the foot of the pasture were certain black-pitched wooden sheds setin a square, with a little yard like a church pew in the midst.Somewhere here, he knew, slept Donnan's slaughterman, and it waspossible that in this place Donald might be held in captivity.
Now it was an accomplishment of our hero's that he could bleat likeany kind of sheep--except perhaps an old tup, for which his voice wasas yet too shrill. In happy, idle days he had elaborated a code ofsignals with Donald, and was well accustomed to communicating with himfrom his bedroom window. So now he crouched in the dusk of the hedge,and said "Maa-aaa!" in a tone of reproach.
Instantly a little answering bleat came from the black sheds, a soundwhich made Hugh's heart beat faster. Still he could not be quite sure.He therefore bleated again more pleadingly, and again there came backthe answer, choked and feeble indeed, but quite obviously the voice ofhis own dear Donald. Hugh John cast prudence to the winds. He racedround and climbed the bars into the enclosure, calling loudly,"Donald! Donald!"
But hardly had his feet touched the ground when a couple of dogs flewat him from the corner of the yard, and he had scarcely time to get onthe top of a stone wall before they were clamouring and yelpingbeneath him. Hugh John crouched on his "hunkers" (as he called theposture in which one sits on a wall when hostile dogs are leapingbelow), and seizing a large coping-stone he dropped it as heavily ashe could on the head of the nearer and more dangerous. A howl mostlamentable immediately followed. Then a man's voice cried, "Down,Towser! What's the matter, Grip? Sic' them! Good dogs!"
It was the voice of the slaughterman, roused from his slumbers, and infear of tramps or other midnight marauders upon his master's premises.
Hugh ran on all fours along the wall to the nearest point of thewoods, dropped over, and with a leaping, anxious heart sped in thedirection of home. He crossed the bridge in safety, but as he ranacross the island he could hear the dogs upon the trail and theencouraging shouts of his pursuer. The black looming castle fellswiftly behind him. Now he was at the stepping-stones, over which heseemed to float rather than leap, so completely had fear added to hisusual strength wings of swiftness.
But at the farther side the dogs were close upon him. He was obligedto climb a certain low tree, where he had often sat dangling his legsand swinging in the branches while he allowed Prissy to read to him.
The dogs were soon underneath, and he could see them leaping upwardwith snapping white teeth which gleamed unpleasantly through thedarkness. But their furious barking was promptly answered. Hugh Johncould hear a heavy tread approaching among the dense foliage of thetrees. A dark form suddenly appeared in the glade and poised somethingat its shoulder.--Flash! There came a deafening report, the thresh ofleaden drops, a howl of pain from the dogs, and both of them tooktheir way back towards the town with not a few bird shot in theirflanks.
Hugh John's heart stood still as the dark figure advanced. He fearedit might prove to be his father. Instead it was Tom Cannon, and thebrave scout on the tree heaved a sigh of relief.
"Who's up there?" cried the under-keeper gruffly; "come down thismoment and show yourself, you dirty poacher, or by Heaven I'll shootyou sitting!"
"All right, Tom, I'm coming as fast as I can," said Hugh John,beginning to clamber down.
"Heavens and earth, Master Hugh--what be you doing here? Whatever willmaster say?"
"He won't say anything, for he won't know, Tom Cannon." said Hugh Johnconfidently.
"Oh yes, he will," said the keeper. "I won't have you bringing a packof dogs into my covers at twelve of the clock--blow me if I will!"
"Well, you won't tell my father, anyway!" said Hugh John calmly,dusting himself as well as he could.
"And why not?" asked the keeper indignantly.
"'Cause if you do, I'll tell where I saw you kissing Jane Housemaid anhour ago!"
Now this was at once a guess and an exaggeration. Hugh John had notseen all this, but he felt rather than knew that the permitted armabout Jane Housemaid's waist could have no other culmination. Also hehad a vague sense that this was the most irritating thing he could sayin the circumstances.
At any rate Tom Cannon fairly gasped with astonishment. Adouble-jointed word slipped between his teeth, which sounded like"Hang that boy!" At last his seething thoughts found utterance.
"You young imp of Satan--it ain't true, anyway."
"All right, you can tell my father that!" said Hugh John coolly,feeling the strength of his position.
Tom Cannon was not much frightened for himself, but he did not wish toget Jane Housemaid into any trouble, for, as he well knew, that youngwoman had omitted to ask for leave of absence. So he only said, "Allright, it's none of my business if you wander over every acre, andbreak your neck off every tree on the blame estate. But you'd betterbe getting home before master comes out and catches you himself! Thenyou'd eat strap, my lad!"
So having remade the peace, Tom escorted Hugh John back to the dogkennel with great good nature, and even gave him a leg up to the roofabove the palace of Caesar.
Hugh John paused as he put one foot into the bedroom, heavy and yethomelike with the night smell of a sleeping house. Toady Lion hadfallen out of bed and lay, still with his blanket wrapped round himlike a martial cloak, half under his cot and half on the floor. Butthis he did every other night. Prissy was breathing quietly in thenext room. All was safe.
Hugh John called softly down, "Tom, Tom!"
"What now?" returned the keeper, who had been spying along the topwindows to distinguish a certain one dear to his heart.
"I say, Tom--I'll tell Jane Housemaid to-morrow that you're a properbrick."
"Thank'ee, sir!" said Tom, saluting gravely and turning off across thelawn towards the "bothy," where among the pine woods he kept hisowl-haunted bachelor quarters.