The Weathercock Part 49

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

VANE IS TAKEN AT A DISADVANTAGE.

Vane felt for the moment quite startled, the place being so silent and solitary, but the idea of danger seemed to him absurd, and he stood watching the shadow till all doubt of its being human ceased, for an arm was raised and then lowered as if a signal was being made.

"What can it mean?" he thought. And then:--"I'll soon see."

Just as he had made up his mind to walk forward, there was a slight movement and a sharp crack as of a twig of dead wood breaking under the pressure of a foot, and he who caused the sound, feeling that his presence must be known, stepped out from behind the tree.

"Why, I fancied it was Distie," said Vane to himself with a feeling of relief that he would have found it hard to explain, for it was one of the gipsy lads approaching him in a slow, furtive way.

"Thought they were gone long enough ago," he said to himself; and then speaking: "Hi! you, sir; come here!--Make him try and dig some up.

Wonder they don't hunt for truffles themselves," he added. "Don't think they are wholesome, perhaps."

The lad came slowly toward him, but apparently with great unwillingness.

"Come on," cried Vane, "and I'll give you a penny. Hallo! Here's the other one!"

For the second lad came slouching along beneath the trees.

"Here, you two," cried Vane, waving his trowel; "come along and dig up some of these. That's right. You've got sticks. You can do it with the points."

The second boy had come into sight from among the trees to Vane's left, and advanced cautiously now, as if doubtful of the honesty of his intentions.

"That's right," cried Vane. "Come along, both of you, and I'll give you twopence a piece. Do you hear? I shan't hurt you."

But they did not hasten their paces, advancing very cautiously, stick in hand, first one and then the other, glancing round as if for a way of escape, as it seemed.

"Why, they're as shy as rabbits," thought Vane, laughing to himself.

"It's leading such a wild life, I suppose. Here," he cried to the first lad, who was now within a yard of him, while the other was close behind; "see these? I want some of them. Come on, and I'll show you how to find them. Why, what did you do that for?"

Vane gave a bound forward, wincing with pain, for he had suddenly received a heavy blow on the back from the short cudgel the boy behind him bore, and as he turned fiercely upon him, thrusting the trowel into his basket and doubling his fist to return the blow, the first boy struck him heavily across the shoulder with his stick.

If the gipsy lads imagined that the blows would cow Vane, and make him an easy victim for the thras.h.i.+ng they had evidently set themselves to administer, they were sadly mistaken. For uttering a cry of rage as the second blow sent a pang through him, Vane dashed down his basket and trowel, spun round and rushed at his second a.s.sailant, but only to receive a severe blow across one wrist while another came again from behind.

"You cowards!" roared Vane; "put down those sticks, or come in front."

The lads did neither, and finding in spite of his rage the necessity for caution, Vane sprang to a tree, making it a comrade to defend his back, and then struck out wildly at his a.s.sailants.

So far his efforts were in vain. Sticks reach farther than fists, and his hands both received stinging blows, one on his right, numbing it for the moment and making him pause to wonder what such an unheard-of attack could mean.

Thoughts fly quickly at all times, but with the greatest swiftness in emergencies, and as Vane now stood at bay he could see that these two lads had been watching him for some time past, and that the attack had only been delayed for want of opportunity.

"I always knew that gipsies could steal," he thought, "but only in a little petty, pilfering way. This is highway robbery, and if I give them all I've got they will let me go."

Then he considered what he had in his pockets--about seven s.h.i.+llings, including the half-pence--and a nearly new pocket-knife. He was just coming to the conclusion that he might just as well part with this little bit of portable property and escape farther punishment, when one of the boys made a feint at his head and brought his stick down with a sounding crack, just above his left knee, while the other struck him on the shoulder.

Vane's blood was up now, and forgetting all about compromising, he dashed at one of his a.s.sailants, hitting out furiously, getting several blows home, in spite of the stick, and the next minute would have torn it from the young scoundrel's grasp if the other had not attacked him so furiously behind that he had to turn and defend himself there.

This gave the boy he was beating time to recover himself, and once more Vane was attacked behind and had to turn again.

All this was repeated several times, Vane getting far the worst of the encounter, for the gipsy lads were as active as cats and wonderfully skilful at dealing blows; but all the same they did not escape punishment, as their faces showed, Vane in his desperation ignoring the sticks and charging home with pretty good effect again and again.

"It's no good; I shall be beaten," he thought as he now protected himself as well as he could by the shelter afforded by the tree he had chosen, though poor protection it was, for first one and then the other boy would dart in feinting with his stick and playing into the other's hand and giving him an opportunity to deliver a blow. "I shall have to give in, and the young savages will almost kill me."

And all this time he was flinching, dodging and shrinking here and there, and growing so much exhausted that his breath came thick and fast.

"Oh, if I only had a stick!" he panted, as he avoided a blow on one side to receive one on the other; and this made him rush savagely at one of the lads; but he had to draw back, smarting from a sharp blow across the left arm, right above the elbow, and one which half numbed the member.

But though he cast longing eyes round, there was no sticks save those carried by the boys, who, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes, kept on darting in and aiming wherever they could get a chance. There was one fact, however, which Vane noticed, and which gave him a trifle of hope just when he was most despairing: his adversaries never once struck at his head, contenting themselves by belabouring his arms, back and legs, which promised to be rendered quite useless if the fight went on.

And all the time neither of the gipsy lads spoke a word, but kept on leaping about him, making short runs, and avoiding his blows in a way that was rapidly wearing him out.

Should he turn and run? No, he thought; they would run over the ground more swiftly than he, and perhaps get him down.

Then he thought of crying for help, but refrained, for he felt how distant they were from everyone, and that if he cried aloud he would only be expending his breath.

And lastly, the idea came again that he had better offer the lads all he had about him. But hardly had the thought crossed his brain, than a more vicious blow than usual drove it away, and he rushed from the shelter of the tree-trunk at the boy who delivered that blow. In trying to avoid Vane's fist, he caught his heel, staggered back, and in an instant his stick was wrested from his hand, whistled through the air, and came down with a sounding crack, while what one not looking on might have taken to be an echo of the blow sounded among the trees.

But it was not an echo, only the real thing, the second boy having rushed to his brother's help, and struck at Vane's shoulder, bringing him fiercely round to attack in turn, stick-armed now, and on equal terms. For Vane's blow had fallen on the first boy's head, and he went down half-stunned and bleeding, to turn over and then begin rapidly crawling away on hands and knees.

Vane saw this, and he forgot that he was weak, that his arms were numbed and tingling, and that his legs trembled under him. If victory was not within his grasp, he could take some vengeance for his sufferings; and the next minute the beechen glade was ringing with the rattle of stick against stick, as in a state of blind fury now, blow succeeded blow, many not being fended off by the gipsy lad's stick, but reaching him in a perfect hail on head, shoulders, arms, everywhere. They flew about his head like a firework, making him see sparks in a most startling way till Vane put all his remaining strength into a tremendous blow which took effect upon a horizontal bough; the stick snapped in two close to his hand, and he stood defenceless once more, but the victor after all, for the second boy was running blindly in and out among the trees, and the first was quite out of sight.

As he grasped the position, Vane uttered a hoa.r.s.e shout and started in pursuit, but staggered, reeled, tried to save himself, and came down, heavily upon something hard, from which he moved with great rapidity and picked up to look at in dismay.

It was the trowel.

A faint, rustling sound amongst the leaves overhead roused Vane to the fact that he must have been sitting there some time in a giddy, half-conscious state, and, looking up, he could see the bright eyes of a squirrel fixed upon him, while its wavy bushy tail was twitching, and the little animal sounded as if it were scolding him for being there; otherwise all was still, and, in spite of his sufferings, it seemed very comical to Vane that the pretty little creature should be abusing him, evidently looking upon him as a thief come poaching upon the winter supply of beech-nuts.

Then the giddy feeling grew more oppressive, the trees began to slowly sail round him, and there appeared to be several squirrels and several branches all whisking their bushy tails and uttering that peculiar sound of theirs--_chop, chop, chop_,--as if they had learned it from the noise made by the woodman in felling trees.

What happened then Vane did not know, for when he unclosed his eyes again, it was to gaze at the level rays of the ruddy sun which streamed in amongst the leaves and twigs of the beeches, making them glorious to behold.

For a few minutes he lay there unable to comprehend anything but the fact that his head was amongst the rough, woody beech-mast, and that one hand grasped the trowel while the other was full of dead leaves; but as his memory began to work more clearly and he tried to move, the sharp pains which shot through him chased all the mental mists away and he sprang up into a sitting posture unable to resist uttering a groan of pain as he looked round to see if either of the gipsy boys was in sight.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

WHERE VANE SPENT THE NIGHT.

The squirrel and the squirrel only. There was not even a sound now.

Vane could see the basket he had brought and the two pieces of the strong ash stick which he had broken over the fight with the second boy.

The ground was trampled and the leaves kicked up, but no enemy was near, and he naturally began to investigate his damages.

"They haven't killed me--not quite," he said, half-aloud, as he winced in pa.s.sing his hand over his left shoulder and breast; and then his eyes half-closed, a deathly feeling of sickness came over him and he nearly fainted with horror, for at the touch of his hand a severe pain shot through his shoulder, and he could feel that his breast and armpit was soaking wet.