Tales of Northumbria Part 17

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For reply he made a bound at me, head down, and both fists outstretched. It was as the rush of the bull for the matador's flag, and my bound aside just saved me from his charge, though his right fist touched me on the chest and sent me staggering backward.

He turned, and came again; this time I had more s.p.a.ce for manoeuvre, and the memory of an old fencing trick, learned in Angelo's school of arms, swift as a flashlight, lit within my brain. I leant forward as though to meet him like a boxer, then, as he rushed upon me, turned quickly sideways, fencing fas.h.i.+on, and slipped half a foot backward.

He missed me by a hand's breadth; a reek of tobacco touched me hotly on the cheek; another moment and I had leapt forward on a late 'time thrust,' and caught my antagonist neatly just behind the ear. I had been unable to put any strength into the blow, but it proved to be enough to upset his poise. He staggered, stooped, and then fell headlong on the path, scarce having time to break his fall with hand or arm.

He lay there for a moment or two, apparently half-dazed; then, slowly picking himself up, leant back with folded arms against an apple-tree, and surveyed me with a sort of sulky resignation.

'Well, you've got the better o' me again,' said he; 'you've the luck on your side, nae doot. "Bing lay your shero,"' I overheard him mutter to himself under his breath, which, taken in conjunction with his name, amply sufficed to confirm my conjecture of his gipsy origin.

'What is 't ye want wi' me?' he continued, in a louder voice.

'As I said before,' I replied slowly, seating myself upon a wooden bench in front of the arbour, 'I only require fair play for my friend within. A man of the world like yourself can easily deceive him, even to the half of his kingdom; and if he has a fancy to cure the leopard of his spots or whitewash the Ethiopian--or perhaps I might say the "Egyptian" rather--I would like the process to be as inexpensive as possible to him--you understand?' I queried of my opposite, smiling as I spoke; for I had the whip-hand of him undoubtedly, and to be unpleasant politely is part of the lawyer's art.

'To put the matter more clearly still,' I continued, for he had made no response to my suggestion, 'I think a week of fresh air and quiet seclusion in the country should be enough for any man of active habits after a period of enforced leisure; the hair, moreover, grows quickly in a country retreat, as Joshua's messengers found of old, and, briefly, what I would advise is a moonlight flitting.'

Pleased with the brevity of my peroration, I took my cigarette-case from my pocket, and, having selected a cigarette, carefully proceeded to light it with the utmost deliberation.

I had taken my eyes off him for the moment, partly in order to ascertain if the cigarette were properly alight, partly to perfect the illusion of _sang froid_; and dearly I paid for my rashness, for with a bound he was upon me.

I ducked; but it was too late, and over I went backward, my enemy a-top of me, crash through the arbour on to the stone flagging within.

I was stunned, I suppose, for a minute or so, for I lay there wondering what had happened, and annoyed that a wasp, as I thought, should have stung me in the neck. In another moment I had discovered that the smart was due to a bit of live cigarette-ash that had chanced to drop inside my collar in my fall, and I tried to put up a hand to remove it. To my disgust, I found my hands were knotted tightly together; my legs, too, were bound, and, as I turned my head, my eyes met those of my enemy, sitting beside me on a low stool.

'The gadgi' (viz., 'gorgio,' or man of non-gipsy race) 'is but a fool in his pride and self-conceit,' said he; 'he is but a tortoise, for all his pushkin's (hare) gallop at the start.'

This was what I heard him saying as I recovered consciousness, and as I knew that gipsies always hide their origin, and refrain from their language in the presence of the 'gorgios,' I felt certain he must be labouring under great excitement, and momentarily expected to see him out with his knife and finish me there and then. Here he stooped, and I thought my hour had come, but apparently it was only to pick up my fallen cigarette. Pinching off the blackened end, he put it between his lips, and, lighting it at the other end, drew in deep breaths of tobacco-smoke.

'I don't wonder you enjoy it,' said I, as I watched his proceedings with an intense annoyance; 'successful theft is pleasant to a tchor (thief), I presume?'

'And who's the tchor in the end,' retorted he--'you or me? Speak, little gutterwhelp from the toon, that art paid to lie at so many bars (sovereigns) the lie. Your kind take a man's money, plead so ill that at the finish the "stande" (gaol) has him, while the big thief's left behind in court wi' a white wig on, an' a smile on his ugly moi (mouth). Who's the tchor, then?' he repeated with a leer, as he blew a cloud of smoke in the air. 'I 'low ye got me nabbed at York 'Sizes, but it wesn't yor doin', 'twas that dirty Jack Spraggon, who turned informer an' legged me that time. Why, ye pink-eyed toon's-sp.a.w.n, if I'd my rights, an' things were as they aince was, I'd hang ye tae the nearest tree. Look there,' he cried, as, stirring me with his foot, he drew up his coat-sleeve and thrust a tattoed wrist over my eyes--'look there, d'ye ken what that is?'

I gazed with interest, for it was evidently an heraldic coat, excellently well punctured in his flesh.

'A lion rampant within a tressure fleury counter fleury, by Jove!

debruised by a bar sinister,' I murmured aloud.

My thoughts went back at a bound to memories of the 'Gaberlunzie Man'

of the ballad, the errant James V., and 'ane louit Johnnie Faa, Lord and Earl of Little Egypt,' but all I said was, 'Still, people don't boast of an illegitimate origin nowadays.'

'Illegitimate!' he cried angrily; 'I'll teach ye manners, ye ----' but here a step sounded on the path outside, and in another moment my host peered in at the doorway.

'Tut--tut--tut,' said my friend, removing his gla.s.ses from his nose in his agitation, 'dear, dear! what can have happened? Speak, Ned; explain, Will.'

My adversary rose to his feet, saluted our interrogator somewhat shamefacedly, and, pointing to myself, replied, 'He wes sae impiddent wi' me I'd just tae teach him a lesson, but nae harm's done.'

'Oh,' cried my little friend, and he positively wrung his hands in his distress, 'but you shouldn't,' and here he looked at us reproachfully in turn. Then a happy thought seemed to rise in his brain. 'We must forget all about this unhappy occurrence,' cried he; 'we will not inquire into it, but will shake hands all round, and begin afresh.'

So saying he immediately knelt down, undid my bandages, and helped me to rise from the floor. 'Now,' he cried, and seized hold of our respective hands.

'Well,' said my antagonist, 'I bear no malice, but keep yor tongue a bit civiler i' future.'

'And refrain from pheasants and legs of mutton,' I nearly retorted, but stayed my tongue in time, and the three of us shook hands promptly all round, as desired. I was willing enough to shake hands because I felt I had been in error in taunting my antagonist, but I was not prepared for the reproof my host had in store for me, as he put his arm through mine, and led me away for a stroll up the brae.

'Oh, how could you do it?' he said. 'You must have stung him beyond endurance, and you promised, you remember, to respect him.'

'I only told him the truth,' I replied sulkily. 'As a matter of fact, I recognised in him the first individual I ever had the pleasure of getting convicted--at York a.s.sizes--pheasant-poaching, stoning a keeper, etc. One's first conviction is like one's first love--one can't forget it.'

'Ah, but if it is so, that is just an incident in that past career of his which is quite dead and buried now; you see yourself how annoyed he was at your bringing it up against him. Of course, his conduct was inexcusable,' he hastily added, suddenly remembering doubtless that he was my host, 'but this vigour of resentment proves to my mind the genuineness of his repentance.'

It was hopeless to argue, so I turned the subject, inwardly resolving that I would leave on the morrow.

After supper that evening I went outside to smoke, and there lingered long, enjoying the soft, luminous northern twilight.

The murmur of the stream in the valley trembled amidst the silence of the night, as of some old monk telling his beads in the solitude of a vast cathedral. Suddenly a discordant singing sounded down the vale.

'Some roysterer,' thought I with disgust. 'I suppose there must have been a wedding or some festivity of that sort.'

The sounds rose and fell fitfully, but grew gradually louder. It was evident someone was coming 'up the wattor,' and I waited to see who the disturber of our quiet could be.

The last corner had apparently been turned, for now I could hear the voice distinctly. 'The protege again, by Jove!' I groaned.

I meditated instant flight, but a fit of laughter caught me, and I stayed. Out of the gray twilight a toper lurched up to the gate on which I leant, and, steadying himself, momentarily peered into my face.

'No malish, little Wool-shack, eh?' quoth he with a grin. Then, becoming confidential, he leant forward and whispered, 'Drink ye for a "bar," turn an' turn about,' producing as he spoke a most suspicious-looking black bottle.

'Look here,' said I, 'why did you come to this place?'

'It's a free-sh country,' replied my opposite solemnly, 'an'

wanderin's my trade, an' the wee big bairn upstairs, he's ta'en a sort o' woman's fancy for us. Noo, Wull Blythe's like his ancient forbears, royal Wull Faa, an' the lave, an' he cannot say nae to a woman, though he'll ne'er tak' a look frae a man.'

'Well, good-night,' I said, 'and don't wake the big bairn upstairs.'

It was some time before I finished packing, and after that was done I sat down and had another pipe by the window. I was just dozing off when a smell of burning seemed to creep in upon my nostrils, and the atmosphere grew thicker to my sub-consciousness.

'It can't be anything,' I murmured inwardly, and tried to recede still further into the dark grove of sleep, but a step outside my door effectually roused me.

A light gleamed upon me. 'Come, my friend, come quick; I fear the house is on fire,' cried my host at the doorway; 'throw on a coat, wet your blankets, and follow me upstairs at once with them.'

I rushed upstairs headlong some few seconds after, and stumbled over a prostrate form on the small garret landing, a reek of whisky giving me a.s.surance of its ident.i.ty. I rose hastily, and pa.s.sed into the room beyond, where, amidst heavy smoke-wreaths, I perceived my host, now beating burning bedding with his hands, and again stamping with his feet upon smouldering coverings on the floor.

I did my best to help him, and we succeeded shortly in getting the better of the conflagration. After emptying buckets of water over bed and bedding, we waited for some minutes to ascertain if any hidden fire lingered anywhere.

'I think it will be all right now,' said my host; 'but come, we must look after my poor friend outside--I fear he is badly burned. Poor fellow, he was lying in bed stupefied with the smoke. I suppose he must have fallen asleep reading, and the candle must have set fire somehow to the bed-clothes or curtain.'

He had scarcely finished speaking when he swayed suddenly, and before I could reach out an arm, had fallen to the ground in a dead faint. I lifted him up and carried him downstairs at once, and found that he was rather severely burnt about the hands.

After I had restored him to consciousness as best I could and dressed his hurts, I proceeded, at my friend's earnest entreaty, to look after the protege, who was still lying prostrate on the garret landing; absolutely unconscious and hopelessly intoxicated.

He was badly burnt on one arm, and scorched down one side of his body.

Appearances seemed to show that he must have thrown off the counterpane and blankets on to the floor, that there they must have become ignited either from his fallen pipe or candle, and eventually have set fire to one side of the bed.

Tales of Northumbria Part 17

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Tales of Northumbria Part 17 summary

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