Chapter Nineteen.

Chapter Nineteen.Plans of Escape.The days glided on and there was no news of the Squire’s coming back, and no fresh alarm or suggestion of the possibility of the soldiers returning to make another search, so Waller grew more and more satisfied in the belief that, however much Gusset might suspect, it was merely suspicion, and there was no more to fear.“I think at any time now we might begin to think of making a start,” said Waller one morning.“Yes, yes,” cried Godfrey eagerly. “Well, you needn’t look so pleased because you are going,” cried Waller, half angrily, but dropping his voice directly lest it should be heard and let the servants know he had somebody up there to whom he was talking.“Oh, don’t speak to me like that,” cried Godfrey earnestly. “I don’t want to go but I am afraid it would be bad for both of us, and lead to trouble if I stayed.”“Well, I suppose so,” said Waller. “As I say, I don’t want you to go, but it will be better for both of us when you are on your way back to France.”The boy stopped speaking and stood looking earnestly in his companion’s eyes, while Godfrey shook his head and then held out his hand.Waller was about to take it, feeling very miserable the while, for he was growing very much attached to his nervous, excitable companion, when both started violently, for some one had come up in perfect silence and given a sharp tap or two at the door.In the full conviction that whoever it was must have heard the talking, Waller caught up the hammer near at hand, then threw it down noisily upon his work-bench, and walked quickly to the door.“What is it?” he cried.The answer came in Bella’s voice:“You are wanted, Master Waller.”“Who wants me?” said Waller, changing colour and seeing all sorts of imaginary dangers below.“Don’t know, sir. Martha told me to come and tell you somebody’s there. I think it’s the soldiers come again.”Waller compressed his lips, and could not have spoken for a few moments if it had been to save his life, while he gazed despairingly at his companion.“Say I will come down directly,” he almost gasped, and to divert the maid’s attention, he hammered sharply on his work-bench, gazing dejectedly at his companion the while, as they both listened to the girl’s descending footsteps.“Don’t be downhearted,” he whispered. “It may mean nothing. I’ll lock you in and go down. If anything does go wrong and you hear people coming up, make for the hiding-place in the ivy again. And look here, I don’t believe they will find where you are hidden, but take the coil with you, and if anyone is coming to search the roof, make the rope fast to one of the chimney-stacks, watch for your chance, slide down, and then make for the forest to find a hiding-place somewhere down by the river.”“And what then? You’ll never find me.”“Oh, yes, I will, and if you hear three little twits like a blackbird’s, only louder, you can answer, for it will be I.”There was no time for more, so Waller slipped out and went down, expecting to see the redcoats in the hall; but there was no one there, and he went on into the kitchen.“Who wants me, cook?” he said.“It’s that Bunny Wrigg, Master Waller, come begging, I suppose, because he knows master’s out.”With a sigh of relief and the wish at his heart that he could send Godfrey the news at once that there was nothing to fear, the boy went out into the yard, where the big, brown, gipsy-like ne’er-do-well of the place was holding a fine freshly washed turnip in one hand, his knife in the other, busily munching a slice.“Oh, it’s you, Bunny, is it?”“Yes, Master Waller; me it is.”“Where did you get that turnip?”“Joe Hanson giv’ it me, sir. It’s one of yours, and it’s prime.”“Joe has no business to give things away when father’s out—not to anybody.”“Oh, I aren’t anybody, Master Waller,” said the man, with a grin. “I’m nobody, and don’t count.”“Well, look here; I don’t want to know anything about any strange birds or polecats or owls or hawks or anything. I am busy now. There’s a shilling for you. Be off.”“You’re busy, are you?”“Yes, very.”“Hah! Shilling, eh? I don’t want it.”“First time I ever knew you refuse money.”“Ah, but that’s only a shilling. I want a lot.”“Well, of all the impudence! I shan’t give you any more, so toddle.”“Nobody asked you—I say, I know!”“Know what?”“About the hundred pounds.”“What hundred pounds?” said Waller, starting.“What you are going to get for ketching that chap,” said the man, with a grin.“Catching what chap?” cried Waller sharply.“Ah, you know. Why, I always sleep with my eyes open. It’s a hundred pounds for ketching that spy, as they calls him; and as he was caught in my woods I say halves.”“You don’t know what you are talking about,” cried Waller fiercely, blustering to hide the faint qualm he felt. “Spy! Hundred pounds! Halves! Here, you had better be off before you get into a row. Your woods, indeed! What next?”“I d’know, and don’t want to. All I know is that they are wild, and as much mine as anybody else’s. Now then, what about them halves?”“Look here, Bunny; what have you got in your head?”“Hidees, Master Waller. Never you mind what I have got in my head; it’s what have you got up in your room where you are always cobbling and tinkering and making things?”“Bunny!” cried Waller, staggered for the moment out of his assurance.“Yes; that’s me, Master Waller, and I want fifty pound. Lot of money, ar’n’t it? And I want money. You are a rich gentleman, and don’t, and ought to give me the whole hundred. But I don’t want to be grasping, because it’s you, and so I says halves.”“But, Bunny—” cried Waller.“Oh, it ar’n’t no use for you to talk. I know all about it, and the soldiers coming to sarch and then going away because they couldn’t find nothing, when you had got him hid away all the time.”“Oh, Bunny!” cried Waller huskily.“That’s me. I tell you I know, so it’s no use to tell no taradiddlums about it. I see you taking him out for a walk last night to stretch his legs.”Waller’s eyes fixed in a stare, and his lips parted as he breathed harder than usual.“You see, I’m about arter dark when other folks goes to sleep. I come and had a look at him t’other night when you thought everybody was a-bed.”“You coward!” said Waller, in a hoarse whisper, and his hands opened and shut as he felt ready to spring at the man’s throat.“That I warn’t. Man ar’n’t no coward who swarms up that there ivy, which as like as not will break away, being as brittle as carrots.”“You came to look in and spy?” half whispered Waller.“That I didn’t.Iar’n’t the spy; it’s ’im. I swarmed up the ivy to see if that there young ullet was fit to take. But it warn’t. But I seed you’d got a light up there, so I went along sidewise, till I could look in. There was you two, laughing and talking together in whispers, and after a bit you jumps up and come and opened the window.”“Ah!” gasped Waller. “But you weren’t there?”“I warn’t there! Warn’t I just? Why, the window scraped over my head and knocked my cap off as I bobbed down. There, it’s no use for you to pretend, Master Waller, so just you hand over that there fifty pounds.”Waller was silent for a few moments, and his eyes wandered in all directions save that where the rough-looking woodman stood. At last, after drawing a deep breath, he said in a hoarse whisper:“Come along this way.”“Wheer to, lad?”“Out in the woods.”“Ar’n’t a-going to try and do for me so as to keep all the hundred pounds yourself, are you, Master Waller?” said the rough fellow, with a grin.“No, of course not. I want to talk to you.”“That’s right, lad. I wouldn’t try to do t’other, because you might get hurt, and I shouldn’t like to hurt you, Master Waller, because you have been a good friend to me, and I like you, lad, and I’m waiting to see you grow up into being the finest gentleman in these parts. You won’t never want to chivvy me out of the woods, I know.”Waller uttered a low hiss, and hurried on in silence till they stood together among the nut stubs overshadowed by the spreading oaks, when he stopped short and faced round.“You say you know that I shall never chivvy you out of the woods, Bunny; but you know wrong, for I should like to do it now.”“Get out, lad! Not you! Why?”“For being such a coward and sneak, and coming here to gather blackmail and betray that poor fellow to the gallows, or to be shot.”“What are you talking about, lad? What if he is put away? He’s only a spy, come here to do harm to the King.”“That’s nothing to do with you,” cried Waller.“Nay, but the money is. Half a hundred pounds is a lot. You needn’t make a fuss; you’ll get your share. What’s he to you? Has he broke his leg, same as I did mine, when I wouldn’t go away into the workus, and you used to come and see me and talk to me till it got better?”“Broken his leg? No!”“Ho! Thought he had perhaps, because you like doctoring chaps as has broke their legs, as well I know. What is he to you, then, Master Waller?”“He’s my friend, Bunny,” cried the boy passionately. “One I’d do anything to save from harm; one I like as if he were my brother. And here you come, after all the kindness that I have shown you, and want to do me the greatest harm that man could do.”“That I don’t.”“What! Why, you come here threatening to go and betray that poor fellow to the soldiers if I don’t give you fifty pounds.”“That I didn’t, Master Waller. I want for you and me to go and give him up fair and square, and take the money, before someone else does.”“What!” cried Waller, catching him by the arm. “Somebody else? Does anyone but you know he’s there?”“Like enough, lad,” said the man, with a grin.“But you haven’t betrayed him?”“Not likely, lad. I say to myself, I says, ‘If anybody is going to get that money it’s Master Waller and me, not old Fatty Gusset, who brought the soldiers up t’other day.’”“But he doesn’t believe he’s here now, does he, Bunny?”“Shouldn’t wonder if he does, Master Waller. He ar’n’t so stupid as he looks. He’s as cunning as he is fat. A lot of the fox in him. It’s you as ought to have the money, seeing that it was only right when you found him, and have fed the Frenchy beggar ever since.”“But who else is likely to know?”“Haw! Haw!” laughed the man, shaking with pure enjoyment at what seemed to him one of the greatest jokes in the world. “You have never seen him. You ar’n’t got him chained up to your work-bench up in your room! Oh, no! But I say, Master Waller, you can fib when you like!”“How dare you!” cried Waller angrily. “How have I fibbed or lied to you? Didn’t I own it to you directly, sir, as soon as I was sure you knew?”“Oh, well, I suppose you did, Master Waller. Beg pardon! Don’t be waxy with me, lad.”“Here, tell me who is likely to know.”“Why, Joe Hanson, like as anybody, I should say. If I had bin him I know I should soon have had the forty-round apple ladder up agen your window to see what you were about.”“Anyone else?” cried Waller.“Ay. Old Fatty Gusset, as aforesaid; old cobbler!”“But you haven’t dropped a hint, Bunny?”“Dropped a hint! Na-ay! I’d sooner drop his old lapstone on his toe.”“Look here, Bunny!” cried Waller, catching the man by the wrist, while an inquisitive-looking robin hopped nearer to them from twig to twig, and sat watching them both with its bright, bead-like eyes.“Look wheer, my lad?”“Look here! You don’t want fifty pounds.”“Oh, don’t I! Hark at him!” cried the man, laughing, and addressing the robin.“Why, what good would it be to you?”“What good, lad? Why, I’d have a noo thick weskit, a plush un, before the winter come—a red un like his’n,” and he nodded towards the robin.“Bah! Nonsense!”“Nay, it ar’n’t, lad. Them red uns are strange and warm, and lies down like feathers. Then there’s boots. I’d like a pair of the stoutest and thickest lace-up waterproofers as I could get—not a pair of old Fatty’s cobbling, but real down good uns, out of Southampton’s town.”“Yes!” panted Waller, “And what else would you do with the money?”“Waal, I don’t know about what else,” said the man thoughtfully. “That there weskit and them boots would about do for the present.”“That wouldn’t cost two pounds,” cried Waller; “and what would you do with the other?”“Bury it in an old pot,” said the man, with a grin. “I know a hole as would take that.”“Oh, Bunny!” cried the boy passionately, “I thought better of you! I did think you were a man!”“So I am,” cried the fellow fiercely. “Who says I ar’n’t?”“I do!” cried Waller, dashing his arm away. “For the sake of a warm waistcoat and a pair of stout boots you would give up that poor fellow to be hanged, or see him shot!”“Not me, lad!” cried Bunny fiercely.“You would, sir! Why, I’d sooner go shivering and barefoot all my days than even think of such a thing.”“Phe-ew!” growled the man, and he began scratching the thick, dark curls, almost negro-like, that covered his head and hung over his broad brown temples. “Why, I never thought anything like that, Master Waller. Why, I wouldn’t go and see a man shot nor hung for love or money! I only thought about that chap as being a spy as had come here to steal the crown; and it seemed to me, as you found him, that it’d be about fair if you and me went snacks with the reward. Look here, my lad, I’ll get my old weskit covered with a bit of heifer-skin, and as for the boots, why, they’ll do for another winter yet if I lay ’em up pretty thick with grease. Don’t you get waxy with me, Master Waller. I didn’t mean no harm. I wouldn’t hurt that poor chap, especially as you like him.”“No, Bunny,” cried the boy, catching his arm again. “I’m sure you wouldn’t; and you won’t tell upon me?”“You say I ar’n’t to, Master Waller, and, of course, I won’t.”“Then I do say you are not to. I wouldn’t have that poor fellow found and taken for the world.”“All right, Master Waller.”“And as for the money you will miss, Bunny, I have got some saved up, and you shall have the waistcoat and the boots before a month’s passed.”“Na-ay, I shan’t,” growled the man. “Bang the boots and the weskit! I won’t have ’em now. You say it’s right for that there poor young chap to be took care of, and it shall be done. You have got him all right up there; but your father’s coming home. What will he say?”“Oh, don’t talk about it,” cried the boy excitedly. “It makes me shiver!”“Do it? Well, look here, lad; when you know he’s coming home, you hand the chap over to me.”“What, could you hide him somewhere?”“Could I hide him somewhere? Haw! Haw!” laughed the man. “He says, could I hide him somewhere?” And he looked round as if to address the robin; but the bird had flitted away, and Bunny Wrigg gazed straight in the boy’s eyes again. “Of course I could, lad, and where no soldiers could find him and even you couldn’t. You let me have him, and he’ll be all right.”“Bunny, you are a good fellow!” cried Waller excitedly. “And you shall have the best waistcoat and boots that money can buy.”“Nay I sha’n’t, lad,” growled the man, “and if you say any more about them things I shan’t play. That there young Frenchy chap must be a good sort, or you wouldn’t have made him your friend. Why, I’d rather hear you call me a good fellow like you did just now, and think of me, being the young Squire, as your friend, than have all the weskits in the world. But I say, look here, Master Waller,” said Bunny thoughtfully, “I could hide that chap in one of my snuggeries; but what about the winter time?”“What about the winter time?” said Waller, staring.“Ay; when it’s always raining, or snow’s on the ground. I don’t mind, because the water runs off me, same as it would off a wild duck; and as for the frost and snow, I could roll in ’em like a dog. But such a chap as your friend—it’d kill him in no time. He’d be catching colds and sore gullets, and having the roomis.”“Oh, but it wouldn’t be for long.”“What are you going to do with him then? Not setting anybody else to take care of him?”“Oh, no, no, Bunny.”“Because I shouldn’t like that, sir, when I’d undertook the job. What are you going to do with him then?”“Wait till the soldiers are gone, Bunny, and then get him down to the coast and smuggle him aboard a fishing-boat and get the skipper to run him across to Cherbourg or Saint Malo.”“Ho!” said Bunny, thoughtfully, and then, giving his thigh a slap, “They wouldn’t do it, sir. I mean the skipper wouldn’t.”“Wouldn’t do it?” cried Waller.“Not him, sir. Why, he’d want five shillings at least before he’d stir.”“Five shillings!” cried Waller contemptuously. “Why, Bunny, I’d give him five pounds.”“You would, sir? Then hooroar!”“What do you mean by your hooroar?” cried Waller.“Why, hooroar, of course, I’ve got the chap as would do it.”“Where?” cried Waller.“Why, I ar’n’t got him in my pocket, lad, but there’s my brother-in-law, him and his two mates, who’ve got a lugger of their own. Down yonder by Loo Creek, facing the Isle, you know. Five pounds! Why, they have to go and lay out their nets a many times to get five pounds. They’d do it—leastways, brother-in-law Jem would. Cherbourg, eh? Why, he’s been there lots of times.”“Splendid, Bunny?” cried Waller eagerly; and then, looking solemn at the thought of parting from his new friend: “But could you trust him, Bunny?”“Trust him, sir?”“Yes. I mean, he wouldn’t betray the poor fellow, would he?”Bunny stared at Waller for a moment, and then moistened both his hands, gave them a rub together, and clenched them.“He’d better!” he said. “Why, I’d—I’d—I’d—half smash him! Nay, I wouldn’t—I’d take his wife away. Sister Jen wouldn’t stop along with a sneak. But bah! Fisherman Jem! You might trust him anywhere. He’d want stirring up to make him go, but me and the five pounds would make that all right.”“Oh, I oughtn’t to have doubted him, Bunny; he’s your brother-in-law; that’s enough for me. Then, as soon as the soldiers are gone—I don’t want to, and I suppose I oughtn’t to—but we will get him down to the lugger and send him off home to come to his senses.”“Ah!” cried Bunny, “and you tell him, Master Waller, to stop there, for it ar’n’t honest to come here trying to steal the King’s crown.”“No,” said Waller, laughing; “of course not, Bunny. Now, look here, you keep a sharp look-out without seeming to be watching the soldiers and Tony Gusset, and if there’s anything wrong you come and tell me.”“Right, Master Waller! That’s so; and look here, sir. When we get him down to the creek and take him aboard he’d better be dressed up a bit so as people shan’t take no notice of him. You make him put on some of your oldest clothes, and keep him three or four days wi’out weshing his hands and face. That’ll make him look more nat’ral.”“Oh, we’ll see about that, Bunny; and now you do this. You go down to Loo Creek and see your brother-in-law at once. But look here; you’ll want some money.”“What for?” said the man sharply.“Oh, to pay somebody for giving you a lift, and for something to eat, because you won’t be able to do it all in a day.”“Oh, you let me alone for that.”“I shan’t,” said Waller. “Here, take this.”“I shan’t neither,” said the man, and he made a little resistance, which ended in Waller thrusting a couple of half-crowns into his pockets. “Say, Master Waller, you and me has had some games in these ’ere woods in our time, ar’n’t us?”“Yes, Bunny! Hundreds.”“But this ’ere’s quite a new un, eh?”“New indeed, Bunny.”“Ay, and I’m beginning to like it, too, lad. Well, I suppose I must be off.”“But, Bunny, may I depend on you that you will keep this a secret?”“May you depend on me, lad? Why, ar’n’t I said it? Did yer ever know me not keep my word?”“Never!” cried Waller.“Then look ’ere, sir. That means mum.”“That” was a smart slap on the mouth, Bunny’s metaphorical way of showing that the secret of the young enthusiast who had come, as he believed, to fight for and rescue a lost cause, was within that casket and he had banged down the lid.

The days glided on and there was no news of the Squire’s coming back, and no fresh alarm or suggestion of the possibility of the soldiers returning to make another search, so Waller grew more and more satisfied in the belief that, however much Gusset might suspect, it was merely suspicion, and there was no more to fear.

“I think at any time now we might begin to think of making a start,” said Waller one morning.

“Yes, yes,” cried Godfrey eagerly. “Well, you needn’t look so pleased because you are going,” cried Waller, half angrily, but dropping his voice directly lest it should be heard and let the servants know he had somebody up there to whom he was talking.

“Oh, don’t speak to me like that,” cried Godfrey earnestly. “I don’t want to go but I am afraid it would be bad for both of us, and lead to trouble if I stayed.”

“Well, I suppose so,” said Waller. “As I say, I don’t want you to go, but it will be better for both of us when you are on your way back to France.”

The boy stopped speaking and stood looking earnestly in his companion’s eyes, while Godfrey shook his head and then held out his hand.

Waller was about to take it, feeling very miserable the while, for he was growing very much attached to his nervous, excitable companion, when both started violently, for some one had come up in perfect silence and given a sharp tap or two at the door.

In the full conviction that whoever it was must have heard the talking, Waller caught up the hammer near at hand, then threw it down noisily upon his work-bench, and walked quickly to the door.

“What is it?” he cried.

The answer came in Bella’s voice:

“You are wanted, Master Waller.”

“Who wants me?” said Waller, changing colour and seeing all sorts of imaginary dangers below.

“Don’t know, sir. Martha told me to come and tell you somebody’s there. I think it’s the soldiers come again.”

Waller compressed his lips, and could not have spoken for a few moments if it had been to save his life, while he gazed despairingly at his companion.

“Say I will come down directly,” he almost gasped, and to divert the maid’s attention, he hammered sharply on his work-bench, gazing dejectedly at his companion the while, as they both listened to the girl’s descending footsteps.

“Don’t be downhearted,” he whispered. “It may mean nothing. I’ll lock you in and go down. If anything does go wrong and you hear people coming up, make for the hiding-place in the ivy again. And look here, I don’t believe they will find where you are hidden, but take the coil with you, and if anyone is coming to search the roof, make the rope fast to one of the chimney-stacks, watch for your chance, slide down, and then make for the forest to find a hiding-place somewhere down by the river.”

“And what then? You’ll never find me.”

“Oh, yes, I will, and if you hear three little twits like a blackbird’s, only louder, you can answer, for it will be I.”

There was no time for more, so Waller slipped out and went down, expecting to see the redcoats in the hall; but there was no one there, and he went on into the kitchen.

“Who wants me, cook?” he said.

“It’s that Bunny Wrigg, Master Waller, come begging, I suppose, because he knows master’s out.”

With a sigh of relief and the wish at his heart that he could send Godfrey the news at once that there was nothing to fear, the boy went out into the yard, where the big, brown, gipsy-like ne’er-do-well of the place was holding a fine freshly washed turnip in one hand, his knife in the other, busily munching a slice.

“Oh, it’s you, Bunny, is it?”

“Yes, Master Waller; me it is.”

“Where did you get that turnip?”

“Joe Hanson giv’ it me, sir. It’s one of yours, and it’s prime.”

“Joe has no business to give things away when father’s out—not to anybody.”

“Oh, I aren’t anybody, Master Waller,” said the man, with a grin. “I’m nobody, and don’t count.”

“Well, look here; I don’t want to know anything about any strange birds or polecats or owls or hawks or anything. I am busy now. There’s a shilling for you. Be off.”

“You’re busy, are you?”

“Yes, very.”

“Hah! Shilling, eh? I don’t want it.”

“First time I ever knew you refuse money.”

“Ah, but that’s only a shilling. I want a lot.”

“Well, of all the impudence! I shan’t give you any more, so toddle.”

“Nobody asked you—I say, I know!”

“Know what?”

“About the hundred pounds.”

“What hundred pounds?” said Waller, starting.

“What you are going to get for ketching that chap,” said the man, with a grin.

“Catching what chap?” cried Waller sharply.

“Ah, you know. Why, I always sleep with my eyes open. It’s a hundred pounds for ketching that spy, as they calls him; and as he was caught in my woods I say halves.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about,” cried Waller fiercely, blustering to hide the faint qualm he felt. “Spy! Hundred pounds! Halves! Here, you had better be off before you get into a row. Your woods, indeed! What next?”

“I d’know, and don’t want to. All I know is that they are wild, and as much mine as anybody else’s. Now then, what about them halves?”

“Look here, Bunny; what have you got in your head?”

“Hidees, Master Waller. Never you mind what I have got in my head; it’s what have you got up in your room where you are always cobbling and tinkering and making things?”

“Bunny!” cried Waller, staggered for the moment out of his assurance.

“Yes; that’s me, Master Waller, and I want fifty pound. Lot of money, ar’n’t it? And I want money. You are a rich gentleman, and don’t, and ought to give me the whole hundred. But I don’t want to be grasping, because it’s you, and so I says halves.”

“But, Bunny—” cried Waller.

“Oh, it ar’n’t no use for you to talk. I know all about it, and the soldiers coming to sarch and then going away because they couldn’t find nothing, when you had got him hid away all the time.”

“Oh, Bunny!” cried Waller huskily.

“That’s me. I tell you I know, so it’s no use to tell no taradiddlums about it. I see you taking him out for a walk last night to stretch his legs.”

Waller’s eyes fixed in a stare, and his lips parted as he breathed harder than usual.

“You see, I’m about arter dark when other folks goes to sleep. I come and had a look at him t’other night when you thought everybody was a-bed.”

“You coward!” said Waller, in a hoarse whisper, and his hands opened and shut as he felt ready to spring at the man’s throat.

“That I warn’t. Man ar’n’t no coward who swarms up that there ivy, which as like as not will break away, being as brittle as carrots.”

“You came to look in and spy?” half whispered Waller.

“That I didn’t.Iar’n’t the spy; it’s ’im. I swarmed up the ivy to see if that there young ullet was fit to take. But it warn’t. But I seed you’d got a light up there, so I went along sidewise, till I could look in. There was you two, laughing and talking together in whispers, and after a bit you jumps up and come and opened the window.”

“Ah!” gasped Waller. “But you weren’t there?”

“I warn’t there! Warn’t I just? Why, the window scraped over my head and knocked my cap off as I bobbed down. There, it’s no use for you to pretend, Master Waller, so just you hand over that there fifty pounds.”

Waller was silent for a few moments, and his eyes wandered in all directions save that where the rough-looking woodman stood. At last, after drawing a deep breath, he said in a hoarse whisper:

“Come along this way.”

“Wheer to, lad?”

“Out in the woods.”

“Ar’n’t a-going to try and do for me so as to keep all the hundred pounds yourself, are you, Master Waller?” said the rough fellow, with a grin.

“No, of course not. I want to talk to you.”

“That’s right, lad. I wouldn’t try to do t’other, because you might get hurt, and I shouldn’t like to hurt you, Master Waller, because you have been a good friend to me, and I like you, lad, and I’m waiting to see you grow up into being the finest gentleman in these parts. You won’t never want to chivvy me out of the woods, I know.”

Waller uttered a low hiss, and hurried on in silence till they stood together among the nut stubs overshadowed by the spreading oaks, when he stopped short and faced round.

“You say you know that I shall never chivvy you out of the woods, Bunny; but you know wrong, for I should like to do it now.”

“Get out, lad! Not you! Why?”

“For being such a coward and sneak, and coming here to gather blackmail and betray that poor fellow to the gallows, or to be shot.”

“What are you talking about, lad? What if he is put away? He’s only a spy, come here to do harm to the King.”

“That’s nothing to do with you,” cried Waller.

“Nay, but the money is. Half a hundred pounds is a lot. You needn’t make a fuss; you’ll get your share. What’s he to you? Has he broke his leg, same as I did mine, when I wouldn’t go away into the workus, and you used to come and see me and talk to me till it got better?”

“Broken his leg? No!”

“Ho! Thought he had perhaps, because you like doctoring chaps as has broke their legs, as well I know. What is he to you, then, Master Waller?”

“He’s my friend, Bunny,” cried the boy passionately. “One I’d do anything to save from harm; one I like as if he were my brother. And here you come, after all the kindness that I have shown you, and want to do me the greatest harm that man could do.”

“That I don’t.”

“What! Why, you come here threatening to go and betray that poor fellow to the soldiers if I don’t give you fifty pounds.”

“That I didn’t, Master Waller. I want for you and me to go and give him up fair and square, and take the money, before someone else does.”

“What!” cried Waller, catching him by the arm. “Somebody else? Does anyone but you know he’s there?”

“Like enough, lad,” said the man, with a grin.

“But you haven’t betrayed him?”

“Not likely, lad. I say to myself, I says, ‘If anybody is going to get that money it’s Master Waller and me, not old Fatty Gusset, who brought the soldiers up t’other day.’”

“But he doesn’t believe he’s here now, does he, Bunny?”

“Shouldn’t wonder if he does, Master Waller. He ar’n’t so stupid as he looks. He’s as cunning as he is fat. A lot of the fox in him. It’s you as ought to have the money, seeing that it was only right when you found him, and have fed the Frenchy beggar ever since.”

“But who else is likely to know?”

“Haw! Haw!” laughed the man, shaking with pure enjoyment at what seemed to him one of the greatest jokes in the world. “You have never seen him. You ar’n’t got him chained up to your work-bench up in your room! Oh, no! But I say, Master Waller, you can fib when you like!”

“How dare you!” cried Waller angrily. “How have I fibbed or lied to you? Didn’t I own it to you directly, sir, as soon as I was sure you knew?”

“Oh, well, I suppose you did, Master Waller. Beg pardon! Don’t be waxy with me, lad.”

“Here, tell me who is likely to know.”

“Why, Joe Hanson, like as anybody, I should say. If I had bin him I know I should soon have had the forty-round apple ladder up agen your window to see what you were about.”

“Anyone else?” cried Waller.

“Ay. Old Fatty Gusset, as aforesaid; old cobbler!”

“But you haven’t dropped a hint, Bunny?”

“Dropped a hint! Na-ay! I’d sooner drop his old lapstone on his toe.”

“Look here, Bunny!” cried Waller, catching the man by the wrist, while an inquisitive-looking robin hopped nearer to them from twig to twig, and sat watching them both with its bright, bead-like eyes.

“Look wheer, my lad?”

“Look here! You don’t want fifty pounds.”

“Oh, don’t I! Hark at him!” cried the man, laughing, and addressing the robin.

“Why, what good would it be to you?”

“What good, lad? Why, I’d have a noo thick weskit, a plush un, before the winter come—a red un like his’n,” and he nodded towards the robin.

“Bah! Nonsense!”

“Nay, it ar’n’t, lad. Them red uns are strange and warm, and lies down like feathers. Then there’s boots. I’d like a pair of the stoutest and thickest lace-up waterproofers as I could get—not a pair of old Fatty’s cobbling, but real down good uns, out of Southampton’s town.”

“Yes!” panted Waller, “And what else would you do with the money?”

“Waal, I don’t know about what else,” said the man thoughtfully. “That there weskit and them boots would about do for the present.”

“That wouldn’t cost two pounds,” cried Waller; “and what would you do with the other?”

“Bury it in an old pot,” said the man, with a grin. “I know a hole as would take that.”

“Oh, Bunny!” cried the boy passionately, “I thought better of you! I did think you were a man!”

“So I am,” cried the fellow fiercely. “Who says I ar’n’t?”

“I do!” cried Waller, dashing his arm away. “For the sake of a warm waistcoat and a pair of stout boots you would give up that poor fellow to be hanged, or see him shot!”

“Not me, lad!” cried Bunny fiercely.

“You would, sir! Why, I’d sooner go shivering and barefoot all my days than even think of such a thing.”

“Phe-ew!” growled the man, and he began scratching the thick, dark curls, almost negro-like, that covered his head and hung over his broad brown temples. “Why, I never thought anything like that, Master Waller. Why, I wouldn’t go and see a man shot nor hung for love or money! I only thought about that chap as being a spy as had come here to steal the crown; and it seemed to me, as you found him, that it’d be about fair if you and me went snacks with the reward. Look here, my lad, I’ll get my old weskit covered with a bit of heifer-skin, and as for the boots, why, they’ll do for another winter yet if I lay ’em up pretty thick with grease. Don’t you get waxy with me, Master Waller. I didn’t mean no harm. I wouldn’t hurt that poor chap, especially as you like him.”

“No, Bunny,” cried the boy, catching his arm again. “I’m sure you wouldn’t; and you won’t tell upon me?”

“You say I ar’n’t to, Master Waller, and, of course, I won’t.”

“Then I do say you are not to. I wouldn’t have that poor fellow found and taken for the world.”

“All right, Master Waller.”

“And as for the money you will miss, Bunny, I have got some saved up, and you shall have the waistcoat and the boots before a month’s passed.”

“Na-ay, I shan’t,” growled the man. “Bang the boots and the weskit! I won’t have ’em now. You say it’s right for that there poor young chap to be took care of, and it shall be done. You have got him all right up there; but your father’s coming home. What will he say?”

“Oh, don’t talk about it,” cried the boy excitedly. “It makes me shiver!”

“Do it? Well, look here, lad; when you know he’s coming home, you hand the chap over to me.”

“What, could you hide him somewhere?”

“Could I hide him somewhere? Haw! Haw!” laughed the man. “He says, could I hide him somewhere?” And he looked round as if to address the robin; but the bird had flitted away, and Bunny Wrigg gazed straight in the boy’s eyes again. “Of course I could, lad, and where no soldiers could find him and even you couldn’t. You let me have him, and he’ll be all right.”

“Bunny, you are a good fellow!” cried Waller excitedly. “And you shall have the best waistcoat and boots that money can buy.”

“Nay I sha’n’t, lad,” growled the man, “and if you say any more about them things I shan’t play. That there young Frenchy chap must be a good sort, or you wouldn’t have made him your friend. Why, I’d rather hear you call me a good fellow like you did just now, and think of me, being the young Squire, as your friend, than have all the weskits in the world. But I say, look here, Master Waller,” said Bunny thoughtfully, “I could hide that chap in one of my snuggeries; but what about the winter time?”

“What about the winter time?” said Waller, staring.

“Ay; when it’s always raining, or snow’s on the ground. I don’t mind, because the water runs off me, same as it would off a wild duck; and as for the frost and snow, I could roll in ’em like a dog. But such a chap as your friend—it’d kill him in no time. He’d be catching colds and sore gullets, and having the roomis.”

“Oh, but it wouldn’t be for long.”

“What are you going to do with him then? Not setting anybody else to take care of him?”

“Oh, no, no, Bunny.”

“Because I shouldn’t like that, sir, when I’d undertook the job. What are you going to do with him then?”

“Wait till the soldiers are gone, Bunny, and then get him down to the coast and smuggle him aboard a fishing-boat and get the skipper to run him across to Cherbourg or Saint Malo.”

“Ho!” said Bunny, thoughtfully, and then, giving his thigh a slap, “They wouldn’t do it, sir. I mean the skipper wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t do it?” cried Waller.

“Not him, sir. Why, he’d want five shillings at least before he’d stir.”

“Five shillings!” cried Waller contemptuously. “Why, Bunny, I’d give him five pounds.”

“You would, sir? Then hooroar!”

“What do you mean by your hooroar?” cried Waller.

“Why, hooroar, of course, I’ve got the chap as would do it.”

“Where?” cried Waller.

“Why, I ar’n’t got him in my pocket, lad, but there’s my brother-in-law, him and his two mates, who’ve got a lugger of their own. Down yonder by Loo Creek, facing the Isle, you know. Five pounds! Why, they have to go and lay out their nets a many times to get five pounds. They’d do it—leastways, brother-in-law Jem would. Cherbourg, eh? Why, he’s been there lots of times.”

“Splendid, Bunny?” cried Waller eagerly; and then, looking solemn at the thought of parting from his new friend: “But could you trust him, Bunny?”

“Trust him, sir?”

“Yes. I mean, he wouldn’t betray the poor fellow, would he?”

Bunny stared at Waller for a moment, and then moistened both his hands, gave them a rub together, and clenched them.

“He’d better!” he said. “Why, I’d—I’d—I’d—half smash him! Nay, I wouldn’t—I’d take his wife away. Sister Jen wouldn’t stop along with a sneak. But bah! Fisherman Jem! You might trust him anywhere. He’d want stirring up to make him go, but me and the five pounds would make that all right.”

“Oh, I oughtn’t to have doubted him, Bunny; he’s your brother-in-law; that’s enough for me. Then, as soon as the soldiers are gone—I don’t want to, and I suppose I oughtn’t to—but we will get him down to the lugger and send him off home to come to his senses.”

“Ah!” cried Bunny, “and you tell him, Master Waller, to stop there, for it ar’n’t honest to come here trying to steal the King’s crown.”

“No,” said Waller, laughing; “of course not, Bunny. Now, look here, you keep a sharp look-out without seeming to be watching the soldiers and Tony Gusset, and if there’s anything wrong you come and tell me.”

“Right, Master Waller! That’s so; and look here, sir. When we get him down to the creek and take him aboard he’d better be dressed up a bit so as people shan’t take no notice of him. You make him put on some of your oldest clothes, and keep him three or four days wi’out weshing his hands and face. That’ll make him look more nat’ral.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that, Bunny; and now you do this. You go down to Loo Creek and see your brother-in-law at once. But look here; you’ll want some money.”

“What for?” said the man sharply.

“Oh, to pay somebody for giving you a lift, and for something to eat, because you won’t be able to do it all in a day.”

“Oh, you let me alone for that.”

“I shan’t,” said Waller. “Here, take this.”

“I shan’t neither,” said the man, and he made a little resistance, which ended in Waller thrusting a couple of half-crowns into his pockets. “Say, Master Waller, you and me has had some games in these ’ere woods in our time, ar’n’t us?”

“Yes, Bunny! Hundreds.”

“But this ’ere’s quite a new un, eh?”

“New indeed, Bunny.”

“Ay, and I’m beginning to like it, too, lad. Well, I suppose I must be off.”

“But, Bunny, may I depend on you that you will keep this a secret?”

“May you depend on me, lad? Why, ar’n’t I said it? Did yer ever know me not keep my word?”

“Never!” cried Waller.

“Then look ’ere, sir. That means mum.”

“That” was a smart slap on the mouth, Bunny’s metaphorical way of showing that the secret of the young enthusiast who had come, as he believed, to fight for and rescue a lost cause, was within that casket and he had banged down the lid.

Chapter Twenty.Return of the Search-Party.“What are you thinking about?” said Waller.“Thinking,” replied Godfrey.“Yes; you haven’t spoken a word for the last five minutes.”The two lads were standing together with their elbows resting on the sill of the wide dormer window, whose two casements were propped wide open, while they gazed out into the soft darkness of the autumn night.“I was thinking about that friend of yours who was going to get me a pass across to France in a fishing-boat.”“Oh,” said Waller in a disappointed tone; “I thought you were thinking about how beautiful it is looking out here into the darkness of the forest, with the scent of the soft, warm, damp leaves, and listening to the owls and that squeaking rabbit that had the weasel after it.”“It is very beautiful,” said Godfrey sadly; “but I was thinking about that boat.”“I wish you wouldn’t be so fond of wishing to get away,” said Waller gloomily. “It’s as if I had not done enough to make you comfortable.”“Oh!” cried the lad passionately, and he turned to lay his hand on Waller’s shoulder. “How can you say that, when you have done too much, and made me feel—almost alone in the world as I am—as if I should like to stay here always!”“Do you mean that?” cried Waller excitedly.“Of course I do. I never had a friend like you before, and I never knew what it was to lead a boy’s life. Out there in France I never heard about anything else hardly but politics, and getting back the crown for the Stuarts.”“Then you really don’t want to go?” cried Waller.“No; but I must go, and the sooner the better. You know what I must feel.”“Yes,” said Waller sadly, “but—”“Oh, it must come to an end. I lie awake of a night wondering how it is that your servants have not found it all out before, with you bringing up all that I have to eat and drink. I fancy sometimes that they must know.”“But they don’t,” said Waller grimly.“But how have you managed?”“Oh, somehow,” said Waller, with a half-laugh. “It’s been mostly done by stealing.”“By stealing! Nonsense! You couldn’t be a thief.”“Thank you for the compliment,” said Waller, laughing; “but you are wrong. I have gone on stealing every day, everything you have had; only it was only my own breakfast and dinner.”“Then you have been starving yourself for me!” said Godfrey excitedly.“Oh, no, I haven’t,” cried Waller merrily, “only I’ve got the credit of being such a pig that cook’s quite anxious about me. It was only the day before yesterday she wanted me to take some physic; said I was eating twice as much as was good for me, and it made her very anxious, and she wished my father would come home.”“Yes,” cried Godfrey, “your father, too. Why, you told me long ago that you expected him every day.”“Well, so I did; but he doesn’t come, and he doesn’t write. I don’t know why it is; but, of course, he will come some day.”“Yes, and there will be terrible trouble about your harbouring me. Oh, Waller, I did hope your man of the woods would have got a passage for me in some boat. Why, it’s four days since he was here and promised to make that right.”“Oh, give him time,” said Waller impatiently; “and do pray leave off grumbling when things are going so well.”“Going so well?”“Yes, I didn’t tell you. I was saving it up, only we got talking about other things. I have some news. The soldiers are gone. I am sorry to say.”“You are sorry to say?”“Why, of course,” said Waller sadly. “Doesn’t it mean that I have to keep my promise and help to get you away?”“Yes,” said Godfrey softly, and his fingers began to grip his companion’s shoulder; “but some day I hope that I shall be able to cross over again, not as a poor fugitive, but in peace, and come here and see you, if you will have me when I am not a prisoner.”“If I will have you, lad!” cried Waller enthusiastically. “Why, you know I will; and my father will be glad to see you too, if you don’t come, as old Bunny said, to try and steal the crown. Why, of course, you and I are going to be friends always. And you will write to me, and I shall write to you.”“Yes, yes; of course,” cried Godfrey eagerly. “I don’t want to go away, Waller, but I must; and as that man—Bunny you call him—does not bring us any news, I want you to let me start off to-morrow night as soon as it is dark, and make my way to Southampton.”“To be caught and put in prison,” cried Waller, “and— Bother that owl! That’s the third time it has hooted this last five minutes. No!” he cried in an excited whisper, as he rested his hands on the window-sill. “Hist! It’s Bunny Wrigg!” And then, clapping his hands to each side of his mouth, he softly imitated with wonderful accuracy the call of one of the woodland owls.“Hoi hoi hoi hoi hoi!”“Pee-week!Pee-week!Pee-week!” came from below them in the shrubbery a little to their left.“All right, Bunny,” whispered Waller. “I’ll come down.”“Nay, lad; hold hard. I’m coming up.”The darkness was so dense that, as the lads gazed down, they had but a mere glimpse of a shadowy animal, as it seemed to be running across the lawn, and directly after there was a faint, soft rustling in the thick ivy.“Isn’t it dangerous for him?” whispered Godfrey.“Not it. Bunny can climb like a cat. He’ll be right up in the big gutter directly.”The lad was quite correct, for, with wonderfully little noise, considering, the active fellow climbed up by the huge old stems of the ivy, and a couple of minutes later he was standing in the stone gutter, holding on by the division between the open casements.“Catch hold of this ’ere bundle—on my back,” he whispered. “It’s only hanging on by the strap over my neck.”Waller did as he was told, and, pulling the strap over the man’s head, he drew a big soft bundle into the room.“That’s your sort,” whispered Bunny. “If I tried to clamber in with that on it would have ketched.”The next moment he was gliding in over the window-sill, slowly and softly like a huge black slug, and ended by seating himself cross-legged on the floor.“Anybody hear me if I talk?”“No, but speak low,” whispered Waller, while Godfrey’s breath was quite audible as he breathed hard in his excitement. “We were beginning to think that you did not mean to come.”“What call had you got to think that?” grumbled the man in a hoarse whisper. “I went directly.—How are you, young gentleman?—My brother-in-law Jem had gone to sea, and I had to wait; and here I am now, large as life and twiced as ugly.”“But has your brother-in-law come back?”“Oh, ay, he’s got back.”“And will he take my friend across to Cherbourg?”“Oh, I have been having a long fight with him about that, sir. He’s got a nasty disposition, he has. I telled him that I’d give him a good price for doing the job, and that I’d go as far as three pounds.”“What!” cried Waller. “I told you five.”“To be sure you did, sir, but I warn’t going to let him have all his own way, so I said three, meaning, if he argufied very much, to spring another pound and make it four. But he wouldn’t. He stuck out for the five, and I had to promise him.”“Oh, but you shouldn’t have wasted time over that, Bunny.”“Don’t you tell me, Master Waller. I know brother Jem better than you do. He’s a close-fisted one, brother Jem is, and he always takes care that them as buys his fish to sell ashore shan’t have too much profit. Why, if I had offered him five pound right off he’d have held out for six. But don’t you get wasting time talking. There aren’t none to lose.”“No time to lose? What do you mean?” said Waller.“Ah, you don’t know, then? The soldiers is coming here to-night.”“To-night! Nonsense!” cried Waller. “They have gone right away—to Chichester, I think.”“Maybe they went, sir, but it warn’t to Chichester; it was to Christchurch; and Tony Gusset got hold of something, and he’s gone after them, and some one I know telled me they were coming here to-night, and don’t mean to be put off this time.”“Then I must go at once,” cried Godfrey excitedly.“That’s right, sir,” said Bunny. “I brought you some things as will make you look like a fisher-lad when I have done with you. Can you slip them on in the dark?”“Oh, yes, of course he can,” cried Waller. “I will help him.”“The sooner the better, then, sir,” whispered the man, and, busying himself with the knots in a great cotton handkerchief, he soon shook out a big, broad, canvas petticoat, such as the fishers use, sewed right up the middle so as to give it the semblance of a clumsy pair of trousers.Godfrey winced a little as he handled the stiff garment; but it was for liberty, and he soon had the canvas buttoned on.“You had better take off that jacket, sir. I can’t see it, but I can feel as it don’t look a bit like a fisher-boy’s things. That’s your sort! Now then, Master Waller, pull that there jersey over his head. That’s the way. There, now, he feels like a regular sailor-lad. Here’s a sou’-wester, too. It’s rather an old un, but none the worse for that. There you are. Now then, I have got a bit of a pot here. You hold your hands, and I’ll fish out a dob of it with my knife. Then you give it a good rub round with your hands so as to go all over them, and then you can gorm them well over your face. Don’t be afraid of it, sir. It’ll make you look every bit a sailor, and won’t wash off in a month.”Godfrey drew in his breath with a hiss.“Why, what is it, Bunny?” said Waller.“Real good pitch, sir, same as they pays over the bottoms of their boats.”“Oh, but surely that isn’t necessary,” cried Waller angrily.“He’s right,” said Godfrey, as he began to rub the sticky brown produce of the fir well over his hands and face. “It’s the best disguise I could assume.”“Hist!” said Waller. “Didn’t I hear something?”Bunny turned to the window, looked out cautiously, and drew in his head again.“They’ve come,” he whispered. “Now sir, can’t you get us down to the back door, so that we can slip away at once?”“No,” said Waller excitedly. “We should have to cross the hall, and they’d be there.”“I’m all right,” said Bunny. “I can slip down easier than I got up. What about this here young gentleman? He won’t find it so easy with that there canvas on.”“No,” cried Waller. “He couldn’t get down. I don’t believe I could. What in the world are we to do?”“Ar’n’t got a bit of rope, I suppose, sir?” whispered Bunny.“Yes, of course. I’d forgotten.”“Strong un?”“The new one I got for the fishing-net,” said Waller.“That’ll do it. Now then, let me look out while you get it. You make it fast to the big window-bar while I just try and see what they are doing. I want to make sure that they all go in and leave the way clear for us to slide down. Once we can get to the woods we shall be all right.”“Make sure,” whispered Waller, “that they don’t leave a sentry by the porch.”Bunny grunted, and as silently as he could Waller took his coil of rope from the drawer, fastened it again to the beam, and, as soon as the man drew in his head, prepared to lower it down.“It’s all right, my lad. Be quick. Some of them has gone round to the back, and your gal Bella has just let t’others in by the front door. Here, I’ll go down first to see if the rope’s safe, and ready to knock over any of them sojers if he tries to stop us. The young gent had better come next, and you last. You’ll have to leave the rope to get back after you have seen us a bit on the way. But hold hard a minute. How long is that rope?”“About thirty yards,” said Waller.“Here, let me get at it,” said Bunny, and, rapidly unfastening it, he ran it through his hands till he could put the two ends together to get its measurement, and then, passing an end on either side of the upright division of the window, he lowered it down till the bight came in contact with the upright bar. “There you are;” he whispered; “twice as strong; and when we are all down I can haul on one end and bring it after us to hide it somewheres in the wood so as it shan’t give you away.”“Capital!” whispered Waller, hurrying to the window, thrusting out his head, and listening, to find all still. “No one there,” he whispered again, “so down with you.”Bunny gave a grunt, took hold of the rope, and as he was squeezing himself out to stand with his feet in the gutter. Waller caught hold of his friend’s hand, gave it a grip, and then crept to the door, turned the key softly, opened it and listened there, to hear the murmur of voices down in the hall.He turned the key again and darted back to the window, to feel the rope quivering for a few moments and then slacken.Bunny was at the bottom.“Now can I help you?” whispered Waller.“No,” was the reply. “I can manage.” But Waller’s heart beat fast and a strange choking sensation seemed to rise in his breast as the boy, hampered by his stiff petticoat-trousers, had no little difficulty in getting clear of the window.The next minute he was letting himself glide down, rustling loudly through the ivy.Waller waited, leaning half out of the window and gazing down till he was satisfied that his companion was nearly at the bottom, when he hurried back to the door, unlocked it and withdrew the key, and then, opening, he felt for the hole and thrust the key in on the outer side.“There,” he muttered; “when they come up here, they won’t suspect me.”It was his turn now, and, full of activity, he crept out of the window and stood for a moment amongst the ivy in the gutter, and then began to slide so quickly down the double rope that his hands were ready to burn. As he touched the soft earth he felt Bunny thrust him aside and take hold of one end of the rope.“You haul steadily,” he whispered; and as the lad drew on the rope the big country fellow laid it in rings at his feet. “Mind your head,” he whispered, “when t’other end falls.”But Waller was on his guard, and as the end glided round the upright of the window-frame and came rustling down through the ivy, it just touched the lad’s protecting arm, and that was all.“I’ll hide this here somewhere, where I can find it again,” whispered Bunny. “You won’t want to go in again that way when there’s the doors.”As the last ring was formed of the rope and caught up by the rough gipsy-looking fellow, they stood listening to the sound of voices, which came loudly from within, two of those present recognising the husky, throaty speech of the village constable, and Waller set it down to questioning as to where he was.Directly after, at a word from Bunny, they stepped off the bed on to the soft turf, just as there was the rattle of a lock, the big door was thrown open, and a bright bar of light flashed across the lawn, whileclump, clump, came the heavy footsteps of a couple of the soldiers marching through the porch.To go on seemed to Waller like courting danger; to stand still suggested the certainty of being seen; and giving Godfrey a thrust, he pressed onward, risking all, and following Bunny, who was hurrying in the direction of the forest.Over and over again Waller felt certain that they must be seen by the two men, whom he could make out as he glanced back, standing against the light that came through the porch, and he could hardly believe in their good fortune, as neither shout nor shot was sent in their direction, while a few minutes later they were threading their way amongst the trees.

“What are you thinking about?” said Waller.

“Thinking,” replied Godfrey.

“Yes; you haven’t spoken a word for the last five minutes.”

The two lads were standing together with their elbows resting on the sill of the wide dormer window, whose two casements were propped wide open, while they gazed out into the soft darkness of the autumn night.

“I was thinking about that friend of yours who was going to get me a pass across to France in a fishing-boat.”

“Oh,” said Waller in a disappointed tone; “I thought you were thinking about how beautiful it is looking out here into the darkness of the forest, with the scent of the soft, warm, damp leaves, and listening to the owls and that squeaking rabbit that had the weasel after it.”

“It is very beautiful,” said Godfrey sadly; “but I was thinking about that boat.”

“I wish you wouldn’t be so fond of wishing to get away,” said Waller gloomily. “It’s as if I had not done enough to make you comfortable.”

“Oh!” cried the lad passionately, and he turned to lay his hand on Waller’s shoulder. “How can you say that, when you have done too much, and made me feel—almost alone in the world as I am—as if I should like to stay here always!”

“Do you mean that?” cried Waller excitedly.

“Of course I do. I never had a friend like you before, and I never knew what it was to lead a boy’s life. Out there in France I never heard about anything else hardly but politics, and getting back the crown for the Stuarts.”

“Then you really don’t want to go?” cried Waller.

“No; but I must go, and the sooner the better. You know what I must feel.”

“Yes,” said Waller sadly, “but—”

“Oh, it must come to an end. I lie awake of a night wondering how it is that your servants have not found it all out before, with you bringing up all that I have to eat and drink. I fancy sometimes that they must know.”

“But they don’t,” said Waller grimly.

“But how have you managed?”

“Oh, somehow,” said Waller, with a half-laugh. “It’s been mostly done by stealing.”

“By stealing! Nonsense! You couldn’t be a thief.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” said Waller, laughing; “but you are wrong. I have gone on stealing every day, everything you have had; only it was only my own breakfast and dinner.”

“Then you have been starving yourself for me!” said Godfrey excitedly.

“Oh, no, I haven’t,” cried Waller merrily, “only I’ve got the credit of being such a pig that cook’s quite anxious about me. It was only the day before yesterday she wanted me to take some physic; said I was eating twice as much as was good for me, and it made her very anxious, and she wished my father would come home.”

“Yes,” cried Godfrey, “your father, too. Why, you told me long ago that you expected him every day.”

“Well, so I did; but he doesn’t come, and he doesn’t write. I don’t know why it is; but, of course, he will come some day.”

“Yes, and there will be terrible trouble about your harbouring me. Oh, Waller, I did hope your man of the woods would have got a passage for me in some boat. Why, it’s four days since he was here and promised to make that right.”

“Oh, give him time,” said Waller impatiently; “and do pray leave off grumbling when things are going so well.”

“Going so well?”

“Yes, I didn’t tell you. I was saving it up, only we got talking about other things. I have some news. The soldiers are gone. I am sorry to say.”

“You are sorry to say?”

“Why, of course,” said Waller sadly. “Doesn’t it mean that I have to keep my promise and help to get you away?”

“Yes,” said Godfrey softly, and his fingers began to grip his companion’s shoulder; “but some day I hope that I shall be able to cross over again, not as a poor fugitive, but in peace, and come here and see you, if you will have me when I am not a prisoner.”

“If I will have you, lad!” cried Waller enthusiastically. “Why, you know I will; and my father will be glad to see you too, if you don’t come, as old Bunny said, to try and steal the crown. Why, of course, you and I are going to be friends always. And you will write to me, and I shall write to you.”

“Yes, yes; of course,” cried Godfrey eagerly. “I don’t want to go away, Waller, but I must; and as that man—Bunny you call him—does not bring us any news, I want you to let me start off to-morrow night as soon as it is dark, and make my way to Southampton.”

“To be caught and put in prison,” cried Waller, “and— Bother that owl! That’s the third time it has hooted this last five minutes. No!” he cried in an excited whisper, as he rested his hands on the window-sill. “Hist! It’s Bunny Wrigg!” And then, clapping his hands to each side of his mouth, he softly imitated with wonderful accuracy the call of one of the woodland owls.

“Hoi hoi hoi hoi hoi!”

“Pee-week!Pee-week!Pee-week!” came from below them in the shrubbery a little to their left.

“All right, Bunny,” whispered Waller. “I’ll come down.”

“Nay, lad; hold hard. I’m coming up.”

The darkness was so dense that, as the lads gazed down, they had but a mere glimpse of a shadowy animal, as it seemed to be running across the lawn, and directly after there was a faint, soft rustling in the thick ivy.

“Isn’t it dangerous for him?” whispered Godfrey.

“Not it. Bunny can climb like a cat. He’ll be right up in the big gutter directly.”

The lad was quite correct, for, with wonderfully little noise, considering, the active fellow climbed up by the huge old stems of the ivy, and a couple of minutes later he was standing in the stone gutter, holding on by the division between the open casements.

“Catch hold of this ’ere bundle—on my back,” he whispered. “It’s only hanging on by the strap over my neck.”

Waller did as he was told, and, pulling the strap over the man’s head, he drew a big soft bundle into the room.

“That’s your sort,” whispered Bunny. “If I tried to clamber in with that on it would have ketched.”

The next moment he was gliding in over the window-sill, slowly and softly like a huge black slug, and ended by seating himself cross-legged on the floor.

“Anybody hear me if I talk?”

“No, but speak low,” whispered Waller, while Godfrey’s breath was quite audible as he breathed hard in his excitement. “We were beginning to think that you did not mean to come.”

“What call had you got to think that?” grumbled the man in a hoarse whisper. “I went directly.—How are you, young gentleman?—My brother-in-law Jem had gone to sea, and I had to wait; and here I am now, large as life and twiced as ugly.”

“But has your brother-in-law come back?”

“Oh, ay, he’s got back.”

“And will he take my friend across to Cherbourg?”

“Oh, I have been having a long fight with him about that, sir. He’s got a nasty disposition, he has. I telled him that I’d give him a good price for doing the job, and that I’d go as far as three pounds.”

“What!” cried Waller. “I told you five.”

“To be sure you did, sir, but I warn’t going to let him have all his own way, so I said three, meaning, if he argufied very much, to spring another pound and make it four. But he wouldn’t. He stuck out for the five, and I had to promise him.”

“Oh, but you shouldn’t have wasted time over that, Bunny.”

“Don’t you tell me, Master Waller. I know brother Jem better than you do. He’s a close-fisted one, brother Jem is, and he always takes care that them as buys his fish to sell ashore shan’t have too much profit. Why, if I had offered him five pound right off he’d have held out for six. But don’t you get wasting time talking. There aren’t none to lose.”

“No time to lose? What do you mean?” said Waller.

“Ah, you don’t know, then? The soldiers is coming here to-night.”

“To-night! Nonsense!” cried Waller. “They have gone right away—to Chichester, I think.”

“Maybe they went, sir, but it warn’t to Chichester; it was to Christchurch; and Tony Gusset got hold of something, and he’s gone after them, and some one I know telled me they were coming here to-night, and don’t mean to be put off this time.”

“Then I must go at once,” cried Godfrey excitedly.

“That’s right, sir,” said Bunny. “I brought you some things as will make you look like a fisher-lad when I have done with you. Can you slip them on in the dark?”

“Oh, yes, of course he can,” cried Waller. “I will help him.”

“The sooner the better, then, sir,” whispered the man, and, busying himself with the knots in a great cotton handkerchief, he soon shook out a big, broad, canvas petticoat, such as the fishers use, sewed right up the middle so as to give it the semblance of a clumsy pair of trousers.

Godfrey winced a little as he handled the stiff garment; but it was for liberty, and he soon had the canvas buttoned on.

“You had better take off that jacket, sir. I can’t see it, but I can feel as it don’t look a bit like a fisher-boy’s things. That’s your sort! Now then, Master Waller, pull that there jersey over his head. That’s the way. There, now, he feels like a regular sailor-lad. Here’s a sou’-wester, too. It’s rather an old un, but none the worse for that. There you are. Now then, I have got a bit of a pot here. You hold your hands, and I’ll fish out a dob of it with my knife. Then you give it a good rub round with your hands so as to go all over them, and then you can gorm them well over your face. Don’t be afraid of it, sir. It’ll make you look every bit a sailor, and won’t wash off in a month.”

Godfrey drew in his breath with a hiss.

“Why, what is it, Bunny?” said Waller.

“Real good pitch, sir, same as they pays over the bottoms of their boats.”

“Oh, but surely that isn’t necessary,” cried Waller angrily.

“He’s right,” said Godfrey, as he began to rub the sticky brown produce of the fir well over his hands and face. “It’s the best disguise I could assume.”

“Hist!” said Waller. “Didn’t I hear something?”

Bunny turned to the window, looked out cautiously, and drew in his head again.

“They’ve come,” he whispered. “Now sir, can’t you get us down to the back door, so that we can slip away at once?”

“No,” said Waller excitedly. “We should have to cross the hall, and they’d be there.”

“I’m all right,” said Bunny. “I can slip down easier than I got up. What about this here young gentleman? He won’t find it so easy with that there canvas on.”

“No,” cried Waller. “He couldn’t get down. I don’t believe I could. What in the world are we to do?”

“Ar’n’t got a bit of rope, I suppose, sir?” whispered Bunny.

“Yes, of course. I’d forgotten.”

“Strong un?”

“The new one I got for the fishing-net,” said Waller.

“That’ll do it. Now then, let me look out while you get it. You make it fast to the big window-bar while I just try and see what they are doing. I want to make sure that they all go in and leave the way clear for us to slide down. Once we can get to the woods we shall be all right.”

“Make sure,” whispered Waller, “that they don’t leave a sentry by the porch.”

Bunny grunted, and as silently as he could Waller took his coil of rope from the drawer, fastened it again to the beam, and, as soon as the man drew in his head, prepared to lower it down.

“It’s all right, my lad. Be quick. Some of them has gone round to the back, and your gal Bella has just let t’others in by the front door. Here, I’ll go down first to see if the rope’s safe, and ready to knock over any of them sojers if he tries to stop us. The young gent had better come next, and you last. You’ll have to leave the rope to get back after you have seen us a bit on the way. But hold hard a minute. How long is that rope?”

“About thirty yards,” said Waller.

“Here, let me get at it,” said Bunny, and, rapidly unfastening it, he ran it through his hands till he could put the two ends together to get its measurement, and then, passing an end on either side of the upright division of the window, he lowered it down till the bight came in contact with the upright bar. “There you are;” he whispered; “twice as strong; and when we are all down I can haul on one end and bring it after us to hide it somewheres in the wood so as it shan’t give you away.”

“Capital!” whispered Waller, hurrying to the window, thrusting out his head, and listening, to find all still. “No one there,” he whispered again, “so down with you.”

Bunny gave a grunt, took hold of the rope, and as he was squeezing himself out to stand with his feet in the gutter. Waller caught hold of his friend’s hand, gave it a grip, and then crept to the door, turned the key softly, opened it and listened there, to hear the murmur of voices down in the hall.

He turned the key again and darted back to the window, to feel the rope quivering for a few moments and then slacken.

Bunny was at the bottom.

“Now can I help you?” whispered Waller.

“No,” was the reply. “I can manage.” But Waller’s heart beat fast and a strange choking sensation seemed to rise in his breast as the boy, hampered by his stiff petticoat-trousers, had no little difficulty in getting clear of the window.

The next minute he was letting himself glide down, rustling loudly through the ivy.

Waller waited, leaning half out of the window and gazing down till he was satisfied that his companion was nearly at the bottom, when he hurried back to the door, unlocked it and withdrew the key, and then, opening, he felt for the hole and thrust the key in on the outer side.

“There,” he muttered; “when they come up here, they won’t suspect me.”

It was his turn now, and, full of activity, he crept out of the window and stood for a moment amongst the ivy in the gutter, and then began to slide so quickly down the double rope that his hands were ready to burn. As he touched the soft earth he felt Bunny thrust him aside and take hold of one end of the rope.

“You haul steadily,” he whispered; and as the lad drew on the rope the big country fellow laid it in rings at his feet. “Mind your head,” he whispered, “when t’other end falls.”

But Waller was on his guard, and as the end glided round the upright of the window-frame and came rustling down through the ivy, it just touched the lad’s protecting arm, and that was all.

“I’ll hide this here somewhere, where I can find it again,” whispered Bunny. “You won’t want to go in again that way when there’s the doors.”

As the last ring was formed of the rope and caught up by the rough gipsy-looking fellow, they stood listening to the sound of voices, which came loudly from within, two of those present recognising the husky, throaty speech of the village constable, and Waller set it down to questioning as to where he was.

Directly after, at a word from Bunny, they stepped off the bed on to the soft turf, just as there was the rattle of a lock, the big door was thrown open, and a bright bar of light flashed across the lawn, whileclump, clump, came the heavy footsteps of a couple of the soldiers marching through the porch.

To go on seemed to Waller like courting danger; to stand still suggested the certainty of being seen; and giving Godfrey a thrust, he pressed onward, risking all, and following Bunny, who was hurrying in the direction of the forest.

Over and over again Waller felt certain that they must be seen by the two men, whom he could make out as he glanced back, standing against the light that came through the porch, and he could hardly believe in their good fortune, as neither shout nor shot was sent in their direction, while a few minutes later they were threading their way amongst the trees.

Chapter Twenty One.The Escape.“Well, so far so good,” said Bunny softly. “We are not likely to meet anybody in the hevenue, Master Waller, so that’s the best going, and we will keep to that.”“The soldiers will be all up at the Manor, but suppose anybody else is coming up from the village?”“If they was I should ’ear them, sir, before they ’eard me. We will step out, and when you think it best, Master Waller, you turn back, and make yourself easy. I’ll see young squire here safe aboard brother Jem’s boat some time to-morrow, so you had better say good-bye pretty sharp so as to be ready to slip off when you like. But what about that there money? Shall I tell brother Jem as I have it ready for him and his mates when he’s set young squire here safe across?”“Yes, of course,” cried Waller.“Pst!” whispered the man. “In among the trees!” and he caught hold of Godfrey’s hand, dragging him through the bracken and bush, while in his excitement Waller took cover on the other side of the winding way.For all at once he was conscious of the flashing of two lights and the dull rattle of wheels coming through the deep sand of the road.Directly after the lights were illumining the big trunks of the fine old trees through which the track ran, and the boy’s heart beat all the faster as through the open window of the post-chaise he caught a glimpse of the grey, stern-looking head of him whom he had expected so long.“Father!” he breathed to himself, and he stood gazing after the chaise till it had passed round another curve and the last gleam of the lights had disappeared. “Pst!” he whispered. “Bunny! Did you see that!”There was no reply, not a sound but the faint whirr of the wheels growing fainter moment by moment, and, confident now that he could not be seen, the boy left the shelter of the trees, crossed the road, and entered those on the other side beyond the broad strip of grass.“Bunny!” he whispered again with no result, and then three times over at intervals he hazarded the call of an owl; but in vain. Then, after hurrying for a short distance in the direction he felt that his companions must have taken, he was brought up short in a clump of brambles, and, feeling the madness of attempting to follow farther, he began to think.“I must trust to Bunny getting him safely off, whether I will or not,” he muttered. “Oh, but he’s sure to get him aboard, and I had not reckoned on this. Father is up at the porch door by now, to find the soldiers searching the place, and the first thing he will say will be, ‘Where is Waller?’”The next minute the boy was trotting steadily back towards the Manor, trusting more to instinct than to sight in avoiding the trees.“And I never said good-bye!” he kept on muttering. “I never said good-bye!”Then all at once he stopped short, panting hard, partly from exertion, partly from excitement, for the thought came strong upon him now of his father.“He will ask me,” he panted, “where I have been; and what am I to say?”An end to the boy’s musings was put by the returning post-chaise, whose wheels he heard far ahead, and as soon as it had passed he hurried on along the road; but before he had gone far he took to cover again, for voices were approaching him in the darkness, one of which, loud and threatening, Waller recognised at once as that of the sergeant in command of the search-party.He was talking in a menacing tone, and the reply came in a husky, petulant voice, plainly that of the village constable, while directly after there was a chorus of laughter.Waller shrank farther back amongst the trees, and stood thinking much of his friend’s escape, of this second fruitless mission of the soldiery, but, above all, of that which was before him, for, as he hurried on, there, straight before him, his father’s stern countenance seemed to rise out of the darkness to look at him with questioning eyes.The rest of the journey back he saw nothing, heard nothing, thought of nothing, but that stern, questioning face. In fact, later on it seemed to the lad as if there had been a blank until he found himself standing in the well-lit dining-room, listening to his father’s words.These were very few, the principal being comprised in the question, very shortly and sharply uttered—“Well, Waller, my boy, where have you been?”The next minute the tired traveller was sitting back in the big armchair, his brow resting upon one hand, which shaded his face from the young speaker, who slowly, and without a moment’s hesitation, spoke out frankly and related all that has been told here.“Well,” said the Squire, as his son ended his narrative, “I am a magistrate, my boy, and it would have been my duty if I had been here to give up that lad to those who sought him. I was not here, and you acted upon the promptings of your own breast. Well, my boy, I have had a long and slow journey down; I am very tired, and I was not prepared for such a business as this. It is late, and beyond your time for bed; quite mine, too. And so this young French Englishman whom you have sheltered is on his way with that fellow Wrigg to Loo Creek, where he is to join a lugger, and be set ashore at Cherbourg?”“Yes, father. But you will not send the soldiers in chase of him now?”“Not to-night, my boy,” was the reply, “for I am too worn out and weary for anything but bed. I will sleep upon it and see what I think is my duty on the subject to-morrow morning.”“Ah,” thought Waller Froy, as he went slowly up, candle in hand, to the room from which his prisoner had so lately escaped; and his first act was to pick up the jacket Godfrey Boyne had thrown upon the floor.“Why, I needn’t have minded,” said Waller to himself. “It’s my jacket that I lent him; and I feel so comfortable and easy now that dad knows all. There, I believe I can sleep better to-night than I have for a month.”He descended to his bedroom, feeling rather sad, though, as he thought of his late companion’s journey through the darkness of the night.Then, as he slowly undressed and laid his head upon the pillow, he had one more wandering thought:“Will father do anything more about that poor fellow Boyne?”The next minute Waller Froy had ceased to think, and thought no more till he opened his eyes upon the light of another bright autumn morning.“Father said he would sleep upon it. What will he say to me when we meet?” And then another question flashed through his brain: “France isn’t so very far away; I wonder whether Godfrey Boyne and I will ever meet again?”

“Well, so far so good,” said Bunny softly. “We are not likely to meet anybody in the hevenue, Master Waller, so that’s the best going, and we will keep to that.”

“The soldiers will be all up at the Manor, but suppose anybody else is coming up from the village?”

“If they was I should ’ear them, sir, before they ’eard me. We will step out, and when you think it best, Master Waller, you turn back, and make yourself easy. I’ll see young squire here safe aboard brother Jem’s boat some time to-morrow, so you had better say good-bye pretty sharp so as to be ready to slip off when you like. But what about that there money? Shall I tell brother Jem as I have it ready for him and his mates when he’s set young squire here safe across?”

“Yes, of course,” cried Waller.

“Pst!” whispered the man. “In among the trees!” and he caught hold of Godfrey’s hand, dragging him through the bracken and bush, while in his excitement Waller took cover on the other side of the winding way.

For all at once he was conscious of the flashing of two lights and the dull rattle of wheels coming through the deep sand of the road.

Directly after the lights were illumining the big trunks of the fine old trees through which the track ran, and the boy’s heart beat all the faster as through the open window of the post-chaise he caught a glimpse of the grey, stern-looking head of him whom he had expected so long.

“Father!” he breathed to himself, and he stood gazing after the chaise till it had passed round another curve and the last gleam of the lights had disappeared. “Pst!” he whispered. “Bunny! Did you see that!”

There was no reply, not a sound but the faint whirr of the wheels growing fainter moment by moment, and, confident now that he could not be seen, the boy left the shelter of the trees, crossed the road, and entered those on the other side beyond the broad strip of grass.

“Bunny!” he whispered again with no result, and then three times over at intervals he hazarded the call of an owl; but in vain. Then, after hurrying for a short distance in the direction he felt that his companions must have taken, he was brought up short in a clump of brambles, and, feeling the madness of attempting to follow farther, he began to think.

“I must trust to Bunny getting him safely off, whether I will or not,” he muttered. “Oh, but he’s sure to get him aboard, and I had not reckoned on this. Father is up at the porch door by now, to find the soldiers searching the place, and the first thing he will say will be, ‘Where is Waller?’”

The next minute the boy was trotting steadily back towards the Manor, trusting more to instinct than to sight in avoiding the trees.

“And I never said good-bye!” he kept on muttering. “I never said good-bye!”

Then all at once he stopped short, panting hard, partly from exertion, partly from excitement, for the thought came strong upon him now of his father.

“He will ask me,” he panted, “where I have been; and what am I to say?”

An end to the boy’s musings was put by the returning post-chaise, whose wheels he heard far ahead, and as soon as it had passed he hurried on along the road; but before he had gone far he took to cover again, for voices were approaching him in the darkness, one of which, loud and threatening, Waller recognised at once as that of the sergeant in command of the search-party.

He was talking in a menacing tone, and the reply came in a husky, petulant voice, plainly that of the village constable, while directly after there was a chorus of laughter.

Waller shrank farther back amongst the trees, and stood thinking much of his friend’s escape, of this second fruitless mission of the soldiery, but, above all, of that which was before him, for, as he hurried on, there, straight before him, his father’s stern countenance seemed to rise out of the darkness to look at him with questioning eyes.

The rest of the journey back he saw nothing, heard nothing, thought of nothing, but that stern, questioning face. In fact, later on it seemed to the lad as if there had been a blank until he found himself standing in the well-lit dining-room, listening to his father’s words.

These were very few, the principal being comprised in the question, very shortly and sharply uttered—

“Well, Waller, my boy, where have you been?”

The next minute the tired traveller was sitting back in the big armchair, his brow resting upon one hand, which shaded his face from the young speaker, who slowly, and without a moment’s hesitation, spoke out frankly and related all that has been told here.

“Well,” said the Squire, as his son ended his narrative, “I am a magistrate, my boy, and it would have been my duty if I had been here to give up that lad to those who sought him. I was not here, and you acted upon the promptings of your own breast. Well, my boy, I have had a long and slow journey down; I am very tired, and I was not prepared for such a business as this. It is late, and beyond your time for bed; quite mine, too. And so this young French Englishman whom you have sheltered is on his way with that fellow Wrigg to Loo Creek, where he is to join a lugger, and be set ashore at Cherbourg?”

“Yes, father. But you will not send the soldiers in chase of him now?”

“Not to-night, my boy,” was the reply, “for I am too worn out and weary for anything but bed. I will sleep upon it and see what I think is my duty on the subject to-morrow morning.”

“Ah,” thought Waller Froy, as he went slowly up, candle in hand, to the room from which his prisoner had so lately escaped; and his first act was to pick up the jacket Godfrey Boyne had thrown upon the floor.

“Why, I needn’t have minded,” said Waller to himself. “It’s my jacket that I lent him; and I feel so comfortable and easy now that dad knows all. There, I believe I can sleep better to-night than I have for a month.”

He descended to his bedroom, feeling rather sad, though, as he thought of his late companion’s journey through the darkness of the night.

Then, as he slowly undressed and laid his head upon the pillow, he had one more wandering thought:

“Will father do anything more about that poor fellow Boyne?”

The next minute Waller Froy had ceased to think, and thought no more till he opened his eyes upon the light of another bright autumn morning.

“Father said he would sleep upon it. What will he say to me when we meet?” And then another question flashed through his brain: “France isn’t so very far away; I wonder whether Godfrey Boyne and I will ever meet again?”

|Chapter 1| |Chapter 2| |Chapter 3| |Chapter 4| |Chapter 5| |Chapter 6| |Chapter 7| |Chapter 8| |Chapter 9| |Chapter 10| |Chapter 11| |Chapter 12| |Chapter 13| |Chapter 14| |Chapter 15| |Chapter 16| |Chapter 17| |Chapter 18| |Chapter 19| |Chapter 20| |Chapter 21|

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