The Adventures of A Brownie Part 6

"It's the kangaroo!" said Gardener, in great excitement. "It has got loose--and it's sure to be lost--and what a way Mr. Giles will be in! I must go and tell him. Or stop, I'll try and catch it."

But in vain--it darted once or twice across the ice, dodging him, as it were; and once coming so close that he nearly caught it by the tail--to the children's great delight--then it vanished entirely.

"I must go and tell Mr. Giles directly," said Gardener, and then stopped. For he had promised not to leave the children; and it was such a wild-goose chase, after an escaped kangaroo. But he might get half a crown as a reward, and he was sure of another gla.s.s of cider.

"You just stop quiet here, and I'll be back in five minutes," said he to the children. "You may go a little way on the ice--I think it's sound enough; only mind you don't tumble in, for there'll be n.o.body to pull you out."

"Oh no," said the children, clapping their hands. They did not care for tumbling in, and were quite glad there was n.o.body there to pull them out. They hoped Gardener would stop a very long time away--only, as some one suggested when he was seen hurrying across the snowy field, he had taken away their lunch in his pocket, too.

Off they darted, the three elder boys, with a good run; the biggest of the girls followed after them; and soon the whole four were skimming one after the other, as fast as a railway train, across the slippery ice.

And, like a railway train, they had a collision, and all came tumbling one over the other, with great screaming and laughing, to the high bank on the other side. The two younger ones stood mournfully watching the others from the opposite bank--when there stood beside them a small brown man.

"Ho-ho! little people," said he, coming between them and taking hold of a hand of each. His was so warm and theirs so cold, that it was quite comfortable. And then, somehow, they found in their mouths a nice lozenge--I think it was peppermint, but am not sure; which comforted them still more.

"Did you want me to play with you?" cried the Brownie; "then here I am.

What shall we do? Have a turn on the ice together?"

No sooner said than done. The two children felt themselves floating along--it was more like floating than running--with Brownie between them; up the lake, and down the lake, and across the lake, not at all interfering with the sliders--indeed, it was a great deal better than sliding. Rosy and breathless, their toes so nice and warm, and their hands feeling like mince-pies just taken out of the oven--the little ones came to a standstill.

The elder ones stopped their sliding, and looked toward Brownie with entreating eyes. He swung himself up to a willow bough, and then turned head over heels on to the ice.

"Halloo! you don't mean to say you big ones want a race too! Well, come along--if the two eldest will give a slide to the little ones."

He watched them take a tiny sister between them, and slide her up one slide and down another, screaming with delight. Then he took the two middle children in either hand.

"One, two, three, and away!" Off they started--scudding along as light as feathers and as fast as steam-engines, over the smooth, black ice, so clear that they could see the bits of stick and water-gra.s.ses frozen in it, and even the little fishes swimming far down below--if they had only looked long enough.

When all had had their fair turns, they began to be frightfully hungry.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The two little children felt themselves floating along--with Brownie between them--Page 64]

"Catch a fish for dinner, and I'll lend you a hook," said Brownie. At which they all laughed, and then looked rather grave. Pulling a cold, raw live fish from under the ice and eating it was not a pleasant idea of dinner. "Well, what would you like to have? Let the little one choose."

She said, after thinking a minute, that she should like a currant-cake.

"And I'd give all you a bit of it--a very large bit--I would indeed!"

added she, almost with the tears in her eyes--she was so very hungry.

"Do it, then!" said the Brownie, in his little squeaking voice.

Immediately the stone that the little girl was sitting on--a round, hard stone, and so cold!--turned into a nice hot cake--so hot that she jumped up directly. As soon as she saw what it was, she clapped her hands for joy.

"Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful cake! only we haven't got a knife to cut it."

The boys felt in all their pockets, but somehow their knives never were there when they were wanted.

"Look! you've got one in your hand!" said Brownie to the little one; and that minute a bit of stick she held turned into a bread-knife--silver, with an ivory handle--big enough and sharp enough, without being too sharp. For the youngest girl was not allowed to use sharp knives, though she liked cutting things excessively, especially cakes.

"That will do. Sit you down and carve the dinner. Fair shares and don't let any body eat too much. Now begin, ma'am," said the Brownie, quite politely, as if she had been ever so old.

Oh, how proud the little girl was. How bravely she set to work, and cut five of the biggest slices you ever saw, and gave them to her brothers and sisters, and was just going to take the sixth slice for herself, when she remembered the Brownie.

"I beg your pardon," said she, as politely as he, though she was such a very little girl, and turned round to the wee brown man. But he was nowhere to be seen. The slices of cake in the children's hands remained cake, and uncommonly good it was, and such substantial eating that it did nearly the same as dinner; but the cake itself turned suddenly to a stone again, and the knife into a bit of stick.

For there was the Gardener coming clumping along by the bank of the lake, and growling as he went.

"Have you got the kangaroo?" shouted the children, determined to be civil, if possible.

"This place is bewitched, I think," said he, "The kangaroo was fast asleep in the cow-shed. What! how dare you laugh at me?"

But they hadn't laughed at all. And they found it no laughing matter, poor children, when Gardener came on the ice, and began to scold them and order them about. He was perfectly savage with crossness; for the people at Giles's Farm had laughed at him very much, and he did not like to be laughed at--and at the top of the field he had by chance met his mistress, and she asked him severely how he could think of leaving the children alone.

Altogether, his conscience p.r.i.c.ked him a good deal, and when people's consciences p.r.i.c.k them, sometimes they get angry with other people, which is very silly, and only makes matters worse.

"What have you been doing all this time?" said he.

"All this five minutes?" said the oldest boy, mischievously; for Gardener was only to be away five minutes, and he had staid a full hour. Also, when he fumbled in his pocket for the children's lunch--to stop their tongues, perhaps--he found it was not there.

They set up a great outcry; for, in spite of the cake, they could have eaten a little more. Indeed, the frost had such an effect upon all their appet.i.tes, that they felt not unlike that celebrated gentleman of whom it is told that

"He ate a cow, and ate a calf, He ate an ox, and ate a half; He ate a church, he ate the steeple, He ate the priest, and all the people, And said he hadn't had enough then."

"We're so hungry, so very hungry! Couldn't you go back again and fetch us some dinner?" cried they, entreatingly.

"Not I, indeed. You may go back to dinner yourselves. You shall, indeed, for I want my dinner too. Two hours is plenty long enough to stop on the ice."

"It isn't two hours--it's only one."

"Well, one will do better than more. You're all right now--and you might soon tumble in, or break your legs on the slide. So come away home."

It wasn't kind of Gardener, and I don't wonder the children felt it hard; indeed, the eldest boy resisted stoutly.

"Mother said we might stop all day, and we will stop all day. You may go home if you like."

"I won't, and you shall!" said Gardener, smacking a whip that he carried in his hand. "Stop till I catch you, and I'll give you this about your back, my fine gentleman."

And he tried to follow, but the little fellow darted across the ice, objecting to be either caught or whipped. It may have been rather naughty, but I am afraid it was great fun dodging the Gardener up and down; he being too timid to go on the slippery ice, and sometimes getting so close that the whip nearly touched the lad.

"Bless us! there's the kangaroo again!" said he, starting. Just as he had caught the boy, and lifted the whip, the creature was seen hop-hopping from bank to bank. "I can't surely be mistaken this time; I must catch it."

Which seemed quite easy, for it limped as if it was lame, or as if the frost had bitten its toes, poor beast! Gardener went after it, walking cautiously on the slippery, crackling ice, and never minding whether or not he walked on the slides, though they called out to him that his nailed boots would spoil them.

But whether it was that ice which bears a boy will not bear a man, or whether at each lame step of the kangaroo there came a great crack, is more than I can tell. However, just as Gardener reached the middle of the lake, the ice suddenly broke, and in he popped.--The kangaroo too, apparently, for it was not seen afterward.

What a hullaballoo the poor man made! Not that he was drowning--the lake was too shallow to drown any body, but he got terribly wet, and the water was very cold. He soon scrambled out, the boys helping him; and then he hobbled home as fast as he could, not even saying thank you, or taking the least notice of them.

Indeed, n.o.body took notice of them--n.o.body came to fetch them, and they might have staid sliding the whole afternoon. Only somehow they did not feel quite easy in their minds. And though the hole in the ice closed up immediately, and it seemed as firm as ever, still they did not like to slide upon it again.