CHAPTER XVII.
BEFORE THE INQUISITION.
With this excursion into the natural history of the Smoutchy Boy,which perhaps ought to have come somewhat earlier in the history, wecontinue the tale of the adventures of General Napoleon Smith.
Beaten down by numbers, the hero lay on the ground at the corner ofthe butcher's parks. Nipper Donnan stood over him and held him downwith his foot. They were just the right ages for bully and bullied.Hugh John Smith was twelve, slim, and straight as an arrow; NipperDonnan sixteen, short, hard, and thick set, with large solid hands andprominent knuckles.
"Got you at last, young prig! Now I'll do you to rights!" remarkedNipper, genially kicking Hugh John in the ribs with his hobnailedboots.
Hugh John said not a word, for he had fought till there was no morebreath left in him anywhere.
"Sulky, hey?" said Nipper, with another kick in a more tender spot.Hugh John winced. "Ah, lads, I thought that would wake the young swellup. Oh, our father is the owner of this property, is he? So nice! Heowns the town, does he? Nasty pauper he is! Too poor to keep a propercarriage, but thinks us all dirt under his feet. Yaw, yaw, we aw-w sofine, we aw-w, we a-aw!"
And Nipper Donnan imitated, amid the mean obsequious laughter of hisfighting tail, the erect carriage of his father's enemy, Mr. PictonSmith, as he was accustomed to stride somewhat haughtily down the HighStreet of Edam.
Then he came back and kicked Hugh John again.
"You wouldn't dare to do this if my father were here!" said GeneralNapoleon, now sitting up on his elbow.
"_Your_ father, I'll show you!" shouted furiously Nipper the Tyrant."Who asked you to come here anyway to meddle with us? Who invited youinto our parks? What business have you in our castle? Fetch him along,boys; we'll show him something that neither he nor his father knowanything about. They and the likes of them used to shut up people inthe castle dungeons, so they say. We are just the boys to give 'em ataste of what it is like theirselves."
"Hooray," shouted the Smoutchy fighting tail; "fetch him along, lads!"
So with no gentle hands Hugh John was seized and hurried away. He wastouched up with ironbound clogs in the rear, his arms were pinchedunderneath where the skin is tender, as well as nearly dragged fromtheir sockets. A useless red cravat was thrust into his mouth by wayof a gag--useless, for the prisoner would sooner have died than haveuttered one solitary cry.
And all the time Hugh John was saying over and over to himself theconfession of his faith:
"I'm glad I didn't tell--I'm glad I wasn't 'dasht-mean.' I'm asoldier. The Scots Greys saluted me; and these fellows _shan't_ makeme cry."
And they didn't. For the spirit of many generations of stalwart Smithsand fighting Pictons was in him, and perhaps also a spark from theancestral anvil of the first Smith had put iron into his boyish blood.So all through the scene which followed--the slow mock trial, thesmall ingenious tortures, pulling back middle fingers, hanging up bythumbs to a beam with his toes just touching the ground, tying astring about his head and tightening it with a twisted stick--HughJohn never cried a tear, which was the bitterest drop in the cup ofNipper Donnan.
They removed the gag in order that they might question him.
"Say this is not your father's castle, and we'll let you down!" criedNipper.
"It _is_ my father's and nobody else's! And when it is mine, I shan'tlet one of you beasts come near it."
The Smoutchies tried another tack.
"Promise you won't tell on us if we let you go!"
"I shan't promise; I will tell every one of your names to thepoliceman, and get you put in jail--so there! My father has gone toLondon to see the Queen, and have you all put into prison--yes, andwhipped with a cat-o'-nine-tails as soon as ever he comes back!"answered Hugh John, shamelessly belying both his father and his ownintentions.
But he comforted himself and excused the lie, by saying to himself,"It is none of their business whether I tell on them or not. Theyshan't think that I don't tell because I am afraid of them!"
And the great heart of the hero (aged twelve) stood high and unshaken.
At last even Nipper Donnan tired of the cruel sport. It was no greatfun when the victim could not be made to cry or appeal for mercy. Andeven the fighting tail grew vaguely restive, perhaps becomingindistinctly conscious, in spite of their blind admiration for theirchief, that by comparison with the steadfast defiance and upright mienof their solitary victim, the slouching, black-pipe-smokingsmoutchiness of Nipper Donnan did not appear the truly heroic figure.
"Let's put him in the dungeon, and leave him there! I can come andlet him out after, and then kick the beggar home the way he came! Thatwill learn him to let us alone for ever and ever!"
The fighting tail shouted agreement, and Hugh John was promptly haledto the mouth of the prison-house; a rope was rove about his waist, hishands were tied behind his back, and he was lowered down into theancient dungeon of the Castle of Windy Standard. This place ofconfinement had last been used a hundred and fifty years ago for thestragglers of the Bonny Prince's army after the retreat northward. Thedungeon was bottle-necked above, and spread out beneath into acircular vault of thirty or forty feet in diameter. Its depth wasabout twelve feet; and as the boys had not rope enough to lower theirprisoner all the way, they had perforce to let Hugh John drop, and helighted on his feet, taking of course the rope with him.
"Come on, lads," cried Nipper Donnan, "let's go and have a smoke atthe Black Sheds, and then go up to the Market Hill to see the shows.The proud swine will do well enough down there till his father comesback from London with the cat-o'-nine-tails!"
He looked over the edge and spat into the dungeon.
"That for you!" he cried. "Will ye say now that the castle is yourfather's, and that we have no right here!"
Hugh John tried to give the required information as to ownership, butit was choked in the folds of the red cravat. Nipper went ontauntingly, all unchallenged.
"'WILL YE SAY NOW THAT THE CASTLE IS YOUR FATHER'S, ANDTHAT WE HAVE NO RIGHT HERE!' SAID NIPPER DONNAN."]
"There's ethers (adders) down there--and weasels and whopper rats thateat off your fingers and toes. Yes, and my father saw a black beastlike an otter, but as big as a calf, run in there out of the EdamWater; and they'll bite ye and stang ye and suck your blood! And weare never coming back no more, so ye'll die of starvation besides."
With this pleasing speech by way of farewell and benediction, NipperDonnan drew off his forces, and Hugh John was left alone.