The Weathercock Part 69

"Yah!" came back from the wood, and Distin cried, angrily:

"You let them go on purpose."

"Of course I did," said Vane. "Here's your handkerchief. You don't suppose I would take them up, and hand them over to the police, and let you lower yourself like you said, do you?"

"Yes--yes," cried Distin, speaking like a hysterical girl. "I will tell everything now; how I was tempted, and how I fell."

"Bother!" cried Vane, gruffly. "That isn't like an English lad should speak. You did me a cowardly, dirty trick, and you confessed to me that you were sorry for it. Do you think I'm such a mean beast that I want to take revenge upon you!"

"But it is my duty--I feel bound--I must speak," cried Distin, in a choking voice.

"Nonsense! It's all over. I'm the person injured, and I say I won't have another word said. I came out this afternoon to ask you to make friends, and to shake hands. There's mine, and let the past be dead."

Vane stood holding out his hand, but it was not taken.

"Do you hear?" he cried. "Shake hands."

"I can't," groaned Distin, with a piteous look. "I told you before mine are not clean."

"Mine are," said Vane, meaning, of course, metaphorically; "and perhaps--no, there is no perhaps--mine will clean yours."

Vane took the young Creole's hand almost by force, and gave it a painful grip, releasing it at last for Distin to turn to the nearest tree, lay his arm upon the trunk, and then lean his forehead against it in silence.

Vane stood looking at him, hesitating as to what he should say or do.

Then, with a satisfied nod to himself, he said, cheerily:

"I'm going down to the stream to have a wash. Come on soon."

It was a bit of natural delicacy, and the sensitive lad, born in a tropic land, felt it as he stood there with his brain filled with bitterness and remorse, heaping self-reproaches upon himself, and more miserable than he had ever before been in his life.

"I do believe he's crying," thought Vane, as he hurried out of the woodland shade, and down to the water's edge, where, kneeling down by a little crystal pool, he washed his stained and bleeding hands, and then began to bathe his face and temples.

"Not quite so hot as I was," he muttered; "but, oh, what a mess I'm in!

I shan't be fit to show myself, and must stop out till it's dark. What would poor aunt say if she saw me! Frighten her nearly into fits."

He was scooping up the fresh, cool water, and holding it to his bruises, which pained him a good deal, but, in spite of all his sufferings, he burst into a hearty fit of laughter at last, and, as his eyes were closed, he did not notice that a shadow was cast over him, right on to the water.

It was Distin, for he had come quietly down the bank, and was standing just behind him.

"Are you laughing at me?" he said, bitterly.

"Eh? You there?" cried Vane, raising his head. "No, I was grinning at the way those two fellows scuttled off. They made sure they were going to be in the lock-up to-night."

"Where they ought to have been," said Distin.

"Oh, I don't know. They're half-wild sort of fellows--very cunning, and all that sort of thing. I daresay I should have done as they did if I had been a gipsy. But, never mind that now. They'll keep away from Greythorpe for long enough to come."

He began dabbing his face with his handkerchief, and looking merrily at Distin.

"I say," he cried; "I didn't know I could fight like that. Is my face very queer?"

"It is bruised and swollen," said Distin, with an effort. "I'm afraid it will be worse to-morrow."

"So am I, but we can't help it. Never mind, it will be a bit of a holiday for me till the bruises don't show; and I can sit and think out something else. Come and see me sometimes."

"I can't, Vane, I can't," cried Distin, wildly. "Do you think I have no feeling?"

"Too much, I should say," cried Vane. "There, why don't you let it go?

Uncle says life isn't long enough for people to quarrel or make enemies.

That's all over; and, I say, I feel ever so much more comfortable now.

Haven't got such a thing as a tumbler in your pocket, have you?"

Distin looked in the bruised and battered face before him, wondering at the lad's levity, as Vane continued:

"No, I suppose you haven't, and my silver cup is on the sideboard.

Never mind: here goes. Just stand close to me, and shout if you see any leeches coming."

As he spoke, he lay down on his chest, reaching over another clear portion of the stream.

"I must drink like a horse," he cried; and, placing his lips to the surface, he took a long draught, rose, wiped his lips, drew a deep breath, and exclaimed, "Hah! That was good."

Then he reeled, caught at the air, and would have fallen, but Distin seized him, and lowered him to the ground, where he lay, looking very ghastly, for a few minutes.

"Only a bit giddy," he said, faintly. "It will soon go off."

"I'll run and fetch help," cried Distin, excitedly.

"Nonsense! What for? I'm getting better. There: that's it."

He sat up, and, with Distin's help, struggled to his feet.

"How stupid of me!" he said, with a faint laugh. "I suppose it was leaning over the water so long. I'm all right now."

He made a brave effort, and the two lads walked toward the lane, but, before they had gone many yards, Vane reeled again.

This time the vertigo was slighter, and, taking Distin's arm, he kept his feet.

"Let's walk on," he said. "I daresay the buzzy noise and singing in my head will soon pa.s.s off."

He was right: it did, and they progressed slowly till they reached the lane, where the walking was better, but Vane was still glad to retain Distin's help, and so it happened that, when they were about a mile from the rectory, Gilmore and Macey, who were in search of them, suddenly saw something which made them stare.

"I say," cried Macey; "'tisn't real, is it? Wait till I've rubbed my eyes."

"Why, they've made it up," cried Gilmore. "I say, Aleck, don't say a word."

"Why not?"

"I mean don't chaff them or Dis may go off like powder. You know what he is."