Ambrotox and Limping Dick Part 25

"Yes. He likes you."

"How d'you know?"

"He feels you through the lines. He's not used to being all alone out there, but he's only tried to look round once, and then all you did was to talk to him, and he said to himself: '_He's_ all right'--waggled his head a little and broke into his jolly canter again."

"I'll show you what they can do, after that side-car has pa.s.sed."

"Will they come after us?"

Two or three back-fire explosions answered her, and very soon the motor-cycle and side-car tore past the brake, alarming with its insolent speed even d.i.c.k's sober and industrious leader.

The machine was soon out of sight.

"Did they mean to scare poor Tod?" asked Amaryllis.

"He's only disgusted. No," said d.i.c.k. "All that fuss and stink is to get 'em to Gallowstree Dip before we pa.s.s it."

"But they don't know we're here," she objected.

"They don't know anything. If we turn off towards Harthborough Junction, or if anyone leaves the brake to walk that way, they'll follow."

"Wasn't there to be a picket at Harthborough itself?" asked the girl.

"Yes. But they haven't made contact with it yet, and don't even know whether it's arrived. If it hadn't and we went that way, we could nip into the first train and get clean away. But when this picket sees us driving straight on to Ecclesthorpe, they'll sit down at the Dip to wait till we never come. I shall spring the Dip at such a pace that these flannelled fools'll yell like a school-treat, and the picket'll forget 'em."

"But why should they even suspect?"

"They're ordered to suspect everything. They've never seen either the man or the woman they're after. They see one woman and a lot of men on a beanfeast, and she's got to pa.s.s on to the next picket to be accounted for."

"Then why didn't you make Mother Brundage dress me up as a boy?"

"Because like this you may be somebody else. In trousers, these blokes would shoot you on sight. My dear child," said d.i.c.k, "there are a good many men that could masquerade as women, but not one young woman in ten thousand can look anything but painfully ridiculous in a suit of dittoes."

Amaryllis was not quite sure whether or not to be offended, but remembered her hair, and was comforted.

The road now began to drop away in front of them so sharply that Tod had no work to do. A little further, and the slow trot, which gentle use of the foot-break had made possible, was reduced to a reluctant, pastern-racking walk, with slack traces and strained collar-chains for the wheelers; while the leader, too much at leisure, began to remember his loneliness.

And then, as they rounded an acute bend at the steepest point of the grade, Amaryllis saw below her, just beyond the bridge of grey stone from which their road began its ascent to the moor, a single ancient oak-tree, from the twisted trunk of which was stretched out across the by-road which followed the course of the bridged stream, that cruel, heavy arm, upon which in one day were hanged fifteen of Sir Thomas Wyatt's rebels in days popularly supposed merrier than ours.

Near the foot of this evil old tree, worthy of its huge bough, the girl saw the two men whose behaviour had offended Tod, pretending themselves occupied with some defect of side-car or cycle. By the time that d.i.c.k had brought his team within a hundred and fifty yards of the bottom, he could see that the interest of his two enemies had been diverted from their own vehicle to his: they stood erect with their backs to the oak, each hiding a hand in a right-side pocket.

Whether they had gathered matter of suspicion at "The Goat in Boots,"

whether they would dare, here in peaceful English country, so desperate an attempt as shooting him and Amaryllis as they pa.s.sed the Dip, were questions d.i.c.k could not answer. But the goggles were down, masking the faces, while he and the girl, perched high on the box, made fine targets for a pair of Brownings.

He turned in his seat and spoke to his pa.s.sengers, catching Dixon Mallaby's eye.

"Ah be goin' to show 'ee, sir," he said, "how three ornary hacks, rightly drove, can take a dip an' a rise, even with a load like you gentlemen makes. Howd tight."

Then to Amaryllis he said, with paternal tenderness:

"Don't you be fallin' off now, my dear. And grab t' rail, not me, when they b.u.mp into their collars."

Simultaneously he lifted his foot from the break, uttered an exotic, mournful cry, and for the first time brought his long lash across his horses--Tod first, then the wheelers; and as the three shot down the remnant of the slope, he kept Tod's traces tight while the heavy load at their tails compelled the pair to run from it for their lives.

What he had foretold befell; the men in the body of the carriage broke into a boyish cheer of delight, which drowned for all his pa.s.sengers but Amaryllis the words of that stream of polyglot invective, exhortation and endearment which the driver poured out over his cattle; a lost jeremiad, for d.i.c.k says he does not remember, and Amaryllis that, though she heard it all, there was much that she did not understand and a great deal more which nothing on earth will ever induce her to repeat.

As they rattled across the little stone bridge, d.i.c.k glanced to his left at the Hangman's Oak, the motor-cycle and the two men; saw foolish, innocent grins break through the suspicion on the two bad faces, and, jovially lifting his whip, waved them a salute.

In response, the two right hands came out of their pockets, forgetting for that moment what they left there.

The circling lash took each wheeler in turn, while the load still ran light behind them, and Tod, honest worker, answered relief with fresh effort.

By the time that the hill had reduced them to a straining walk, Gallowstree Dip was out of sight, and d.i.c.k let out his breath with a little hissing noise between the teeth. Amaryllis heard it and understood.

"Dad!" she said.

"Ay, la.s.s?" he answered.

"Those two men," she said, lowering her voice and speaking in her natural manner: "as we were coming down to the bridge they pushed up their goggles, and their faces were beastly--just as if they meant," she whispered, "to kill somebody."

d.i.c.k nodded.

"And then the men behind began cheering, and those two horrid faces grew quite silly and good-natured. And when you waggled your whip at them they grinned and waved their hands, and one of them shouted something meant to be jolly."

"It just means, lovey," he answered, "that they made up their minds it was a beano after all, and that they'd got wind up about nothing. The mongrel sportsman and the bashful wench in a sun-bonnet were after all, they thought, a genuine subst.i.tute for Ned Blossom."

"Did you play for that?" she asked.

"Oh, well!" he answered vaguely; then added: "Don't worry, my la.s.s. 'Tis all well for a while."

He kept his horses on a steady strain until the long rise was topped, and then climbed down from his seat and let them breathe, tightening this and feeling that about their tackle, until each horse was tricked into believing itself the object of especial interest; a belief of which Amaryllis saw the effect in three pairs of swivelling ears. At last, having lighted a cigarette dug from a yellow packet which he must have bought, she was sure, at "The Goat in Boots," he climbed back to her with this unusual ornament hanging stickily from his under lip.

The team started again willingly as he drew the reins softly in through his fingers; but for a while he kept them walking.

Then he turned to Mr. Dixon Mallaby.

"Parson," he said, "Ah've Ned Blossom's repitation to consider. Ah'll take 'em along easy-like, leastways if you're not in a hurry. Then you gives me the word when us be n.o.bbut half mile from tha pull-up, an' I'll let 'em out champion."

"You don't know Ecclesthorpe, then?" said Dixon Mallaby.

"I dunno this ro'd," replied d.i.c.k. "If 'ee play match in Rectory field, Ah be to drive 'ee there, Ah reckon."

"They've got the Green in excellent shape again. The Ecclesthorpians,"

said the parson, "don't like the match outside."

All this and more d.i.c.k knew already; for he had ears as keen as his eyes, and words travel better to the coachman than from him.

"Then Ah'll drive 'ee to t' 'George,' sir," he said.