The fire was taken in hand first thing, for Chippy would need a great pile of red-hot embers for his cookery. The hanger was littered with dry sticks, so that there was no lack of material, and soon they had a rousing fire crackling on the sandy soil.
At the foot of the hanger they met with a stroke of luck. They found a young beech-tree which had been blown down in some winter storm. It was now as dry as a bone and easy cutting, and Dick went to work with the little axe, and soon cut and split a heap of logs some eight or ten inches long and three or four inches through—first-rate stuff, for no tree in the wood burns more sweetly than beech. While the fire was under way, and while Dick hacked at the beech, Chippy had gone in search of clay. He was gone soms time, for he did not hit on a clayey spot at once. But he worked along the bank of the stream where the wash of the water had laid bare the nature of the soil until he struck upon a seam of red clay, and dug out a mass with his knife and the point of his staff.
He brought the clay to the fire, and next fetched a billy of water from the river, and worked the clay into a mass which would spread like stiff butter. Now he took the hedgehog, opened it, and removed its inside. Then he began to wrap it in a thick covering of the clay.
'Aren't you going to skin it?' cried Dick, who had been watching his brother scout's doings with deep interest.
'I am,' said Chippy, 'but not now—leastways, it'll skin itself when the time comes.'
Soon Chippy held in his hands a great ball of clay, inside which the hedgehog lay like a kernel in a nut. The fury of the fire had passed by now, and the small beech logs were heaped in a glowing mass of fiery embers. With a spare log Chippy drew the embers aside, and laid his ball of clay on the heated ground, and raked the ashes into place again.
'Now,' said he, 'when we're ready for supper, that theer 'ull be ready for us.'
'It doesn't look as if our supper was going to cost us much,' laughed Dick. Chippy looked up with his dry, quiet smile.
'As it's runnin' so cheap,' he said, 'we might goo in for suthin' extra. Wot d'yer say to a drop o' milk in the tea?'
'Where are we going to get it?' cried Dick.
'When I was down theer'—and Chippy jerked his head towards the river—'I seen a house acrost the fields. If ye'll turn me up a copper ot o' the cash-box I'll tek' a billy an' buy a pennorth.'
Dick laughed and turned out a penny, and away went Chippy after the milk, while Dick watched the fire and the haversacks they had piled beside it.
While Chippy was away an old man came up-stream whipping it with a fly-rod. The time of the evening rise was coming on, but very few circles broke the surface of the smoothly running river. Dick went over and asked him what luck he had had.
'Only two, an' them little uns,' said the old man. 'You see, this is a free stretch for about a couple o' miles, an' it gets fished a lot too much. There are some in it, an' big uns too, but they'm too wide awake to tek' the fly.'
When Chippy came back Dick reported this. 'Not much chance for you, old chap,' said Dick; 'the old fellow had got a good fly-rod and fine gut, and he could do little or nothing, so it isn't likely we shall get trout for breakfast in the morning.'
But Chippy's calm was quite undisturbed. 'Said as there wor' some about, an' big uns too, did he?' remarked the Raven. 'That's good enough fer me. Shouldn't wonder but wot I'll yank one or two on 'em out yet.'
He set the billy down beside the fire, and Dick cried out in wonder. 'By Jingo, Chippy, what a jolly lot of milk! You made that penny go a tremendous long way. You must have dropped across a good sort.'
'Just wot I did,' rejoined the Raven—'a stout old lady, with a heart to match the size of her waist;' and he flipped the penny back at the treasurer.
'And you've brought the penny back!' cried Dick.
'Wouldn't tek' it nohow,' replied the other; 'said I was kindly welcome.'
'Why, we needn't make any tea,' said Dick.
'Just wot I thought,' remarked his companion; 'that's tea an' sugar saved at a bang. Bread, milk, an' 'edgehog ought to fill us out aw' right this time. Now, what about gettin' the bed ready afore we have supper? After supper I may be busy for a bit.'
'Right you are,' said Dick; and they turned to their first attempt of making a scout's bed.
The farther end of the hanger was composed of a thick growth of larch-trees, and here there had been a fall of timber in the winter. Two or three lots of logs had not yet been carried away, and the two scouts chose four logs of fairly suitable length for the framework of their couch, and pegged them into position. They could soon have chopped the logs to the right length, but they did not do so, for that would have been damaging other people's property, and no scout acts in such a way as to raise difficulties for those who may come after him.
When the woodmen had felled the larches they had stripped off the branches and cut away the plumy tops with their axes, and heaps of branches and tops lay about among the remaining trees. With axe and knife the scouts cut great armfuls of the tips and carried them to the framework. Here they laid them to overlap each other like the slates on a roof, as Mr. Elliott had shown them, and within an hour they had a dry, springy bed, upon which they flung themselves, and rolled in delight and kicked up their heels for a minute or two.
'One little job agen before supper,' said Chippy, 'but it'll only be a short un. I want two or three minnows, an' I saw a place wheer they wor' swimmin' in hundreds.'
The scouts ran down to the river, and Chippy pointed to a shallow where a great shoal of the tiny fish were glancing to and fro, their sides glittering as they turned in the light of the setting sun. Chippy throw himself flat on the bank, and very slowly and cautiously slipped his hand into the water. The minnows darted away, but soon returned, and the scout, with a swift, dexterous scoop, tossed a couple high and dry on the bank, where Dick secured them. A second attempt only landed one, but it was a good-sized one, and Chippy sprang to his feet.
'I reckon three 'ull be enough for now, an' we ain't supposed to catch more'n we can use. That's in the books. Got 'em safe?'
'Safe and sound,' replied Dick. 'But we can't eat these tiny things, Chippy.'
'Not likely,' said the Raven, 'but they'll make first-rate bait: that's wot I'm arter. Now for supper.'
'I'm ready,' said Dick. 'I'm as hungry as a wolf.'
'Right thing for one o' your patrol,' chuckled Chippy, and the boys laughed as they raced back to their camp.
Chippy opened the heap of ashes and drew out the ball of clay. Very carefully he broke the clay open and disclosed the white flesh of the hedgehog, cooked to a turn, and smelling deliciously.
'Where'e the skin?' cried Dick; 'and I say, how good it smells!'
'Skin's stuck fast in the clay wi' the prickles,' replied the Raven. 'Cut some chunks o' bread while I get it out.'
Dick took the loaf and cut some good slices with his knife, while his comrade dexterously divided the hedgehog into handy pieces. Then they sat about their fire and made a glorious supper. The bread was good, the milk was sweet, the hedgehog's flesh was tender and toothsome. Dick forgot all about his first dislike as he ate his share and applauded Chippy's skill and cookery.
'The light's going fast,' remarked Dick, as supper was ending.
'So it is,' said Chippy, 'and I ain't got a fishin'-rod yet.'
He sprang to his feet and seized the tomahawk.
'Where are you going to get one?' cried Dick.
'Handy by,' replied the Raven, and marched to a thicket of hazels within thirty yards of the camp fire. Dick heard one or two strokes of the little axe, and then Chippy came back dragging a tall, straight hazel stem nine or ten feet long. He sat down, took his knife, and began to trim off the side branches.
'So that's your rod, is it?' said Dick.
'Jolly good un, too, for what I want,' returned Chippy. 'Ye'll soon see.'
He trimmed the hazel and cut down the weaker end until he had a strong, pliant rod about eight feet long. Next he unwound his hank of cord, tied one end round the rod a foot from the bottom, then wound the cord round the rod for its full length beyond, and tied it again at the top. In this way the whole spring and strength of the rod would be behind the cord, and aid it in its pull.
'No use just to fasten the line at the top,' commented Chippy; 'if yer do, p'raps the top 'll break, an' then theer's yer line, hook, an' everythin' gone.'
He opened his packet of hooks and took out a largish one, whose shank was covered smoothly with lead.
'I got these hooks from an old chap as lives close by us,' said Chippy. 'He's a reg'lar dab 'and at fishin', an' I've been with him many a time to carry his basket an' things. He rigged me up wi' these when I told 'im about our trip, an' I know wot to do becos I've seen him at it often enough. Now for the minnows.'
Chippy took the largest minnow, and, by the light of the fire, deftly worked it over the hook and lead until the latter was hidden in the body of the tiny fish.
'They call this the "pledge,"' he said, as he fastened the line into the loop of the gut; 'an' the way yer use it is the "sink-an'-draw" dodge. It's a sure kill, an' yer almost certain to get a big un.'
'But it's going darker and darker!' cried Dick.
'Dark's the time to use it,' replied his friend; 'that's when the big uns come out an' swim at the bottom o' some deep hole, an' wait for summat to show up atween them an' the sky.'
The scouts now went down to the bank, where Chippy had marked a likely-looking pool between two big hawthorn-bushes. They moved very softly, according to his orders, and when they gained the bank the weighted minnow was swung out, dropped into the water without a splash, and then lowered and raised slowly—the 'sink-and-draw' motion.
For five minutes Chippy worked steadily, and then he felt a sharp tug. In this style of fishing one strikes at once. Chippy struck, and found he was fast in a fish. He could not play it, for he had no reel. Nor is it safe to play under bushes in the dark. It is a case of land or smash, though a practised hand will land where a novice is certain to smash. Chippy put a swift but even strain on the pliant rod, and swung his fish up and out. The line was strong, the gut was good, and the trout was well hooked. Out it came, turning and tumbling on the grass, and Dick pounced upon it, for its under sides showed gleams of silver in the faint light, and he could see it bounding. Chippy took it from him, unhooked it, slipped his forefinger into the trout's mouth, and broke its neck with a dexterous jerk of finger and thumb. Then he weighed it in his hand. 'Not a big un,' he whispered; 'about half a pound. There ought to be more on 'em in this pool.'
He examined the minnow, and found that by good luck the trout had done little or no damage to it, and it would serve another turn, so he went to work once more. Several minutes passed, and then he had another bite, and again landed his fish, but it was a little smaller than the first.
'No big uns in this pool,' murmured Chippy. 'Theer's another good place about thirty yards up. We'll try that.'
The minnow had been badly torn by the teeth of the second trout, so by the light of a couple of wax matches, struck one after the other by Dick, Chippy fixed a fresh bait on the leaded hook. Then they went up to the second pool.
'S'pose yer have a try here,' whispered Chippy to Dick. 'It's as easy as can be. Ye must just let it down an' pull it up again, quiet an' easy. Ye'll know soon enough when a fish lays hold on it. Then give a little jerk to fasten th' 'ook in. Next lug him right up, pullin' smooth an' steady wi'out givin' an inch. If yer do, he'll get away, most likely.'
Dick took the rod and let the minnow down into the smooth dark pool where stars were reflected between the shadows of overhanging branches. Down and up, down and up, down and up, he lowered and raised the bait, many, many times, but there was no sign that the pool held a fish. He was about to whisper to Chippy that it was useless to try longer, when there came a tremendous tug, which almost tore the hazel wand out of his grasp. He tightened his clutch convulsively, and in recovering the rod he struck the fish, for at the next moment the tug of a tightly hooked 'big un' shook him from head to foot. Then there was a terrific splash at his feet, which caused his heart to jump into his mouth. The trout had leaped clean out of the water.
'Pull up! Pull up!' yelled Chippy, and Dick pulled. The fish was so firmly hooked that he was still there, and now the rod bent and twisted in Dick's hands as if that, too, were alive and trying to free itself from his wild clutch. Dick raised the fish slowly, for it felt tremendously heavy, and when he had it on the surface it kicked and wallowed till you might have thought a dog was splashing in the water.
'A good swing an' step back,' roared Chippy. Dick obeyed, and gave a big lift. He felt the hazel bend and tremble in his hands, then Chippy pounced on something, and the rod was still.
'Have we got it?' cried Dick breathlessly, for he had felt sure that the trout was too strong for their tackle.
'Got 'im,' snapped Chippy in triumph, 'an' a good un, too. They say it's allus the new hands as get the best luck. We've got plenty now, an' it ain't allowed to tek' more'n we can eat.'
This trout was far too big for Chippy to kill with finger and thumb, so he whipped off his jacket, rolled the fish in it, and the two scouts hurried back to the camp fire. Here Chippy despatched the trout by a sharp tap behind its head, delivered with the handle of the tomahawk, and the boys gloated over their prize. It was a fine, short, hog-backed trout, weighing well over three pounds, and in the pink of condition.
''Bout as much as anybody wants to lift out wi' a nut-stick,' commented Chippy, while Dick stared entranced at his glorious shining prize.
'Time to turn in now, I shouldn't wonder,' said the Raven, and the Wolf looked at his watch.
'Close upon ten,' said the latter.
'Well, we've just about 'ad a day of it,' said his comrade. 'I'll bet we'll be off to sleep like a shot.'
It was not until they lay down and waited for sleep that the boys felt the oddness and queerness of this first night in the open. Bustling round, making the fire, cooking, rigging up their camp, eating supper, fishing—all those things had kept at bay the silence and loneliness which now seemed to settle down upon them like a pall. They were quite comfortable. Each was wrapped snugly in his blanket. The bed of larch-tips was dry and springy. The haversacks, stuffed with the smallest tips, formed capital pillows. Yet sleep did not come at once.
After a time Dick spoke.
'Listen to the river,' he said.
'Rum, ain't it?' replied Chippy. 'Daytime it didn't seem to mek' no noise at all. Now yer can't hear nothin' else.'
The river, as a river always does, had found its voice in the dark: it purred and plashed, while over a shallow some distance below, its waters ran with a shrill babbling, and a steady roar, unheard by day, came up from a distant point where it thundered over a weir.
'Good job we made a rattlin' fire afore we turned in,' remarked the Raven; 'seems like comp'ny, don't it?'
'Rather,' said Dick; and both boys lay for a time watching the dancing gleams, as the good beech logs blazed up and threw the light of their flames into the depths of the hanger which rose above the camp.
Sleep came to Dick without his knowing it, but his sleep had a rude awakening. He woke with the echo of a dreadful cry in his ears. For a moment he looked stupidly about, utterly at a loss to discover where he was. Then the cry came again—a horrible, screaming cry—and he sat up, with his heart going nineteen to the dozen.
'Chippy!' he cried, 'are you awake? What was that?'
'I dunno,' said the Raven, sitting up too. 'But worn't it awful?'
The cry came again, and the two boys, their heads still heavy with sleep, were filled with horror at its wild, wailing note.
'Sounds like some'dy bein' murdered,' gasped Chippy. 'An' the fire's gone. Ain't it dark?'
The fire had gone down, and was now no more than a heap of smouldering ashes. Heavy clouds had drawn across the sky, and the darkness under the hanger was thick enough to cut with a knife. The two boys crouched together side by side and quaked. This was pretty frightful, to be roused in the dead dark time of the small hours by this horrible outcry.
Suddenly Dick jumped.
'Chippy!' he whispered breathlessly, 'there's someone about. I hear them.'
Both boys listened with strained ears, and caught distinctly the sound of light footfalls near at hand.
'Theer's more'n one,' gasped Chippy.
The gentle, creeping footfalls came nearer and nearer in the darkness.
'G-g-gimme the chopper!' whispered the Raven, and his voice was shaking.
'I—I—I've got it,' replied Dick; and his fingers were clenched with the grasp of despair round the smooth handle of the tomahawk.
Chippy drew his jack-knife, opened it, and gripped it in his left hand like a dagger. In his right he had seized his strong patrol staff.
A sharp puff of wind blew along the foot of the slope. It fanned the embers of the dying fire, and a little flame ran up a twig, flickered for a moment, then died as suddenly as it had leapt up. But the boys were stiff with horror. It had shown them a strange dark form crouching within three or four yards of the opposite side of the heap of ashes.
'W-w-what is it?' said Dick.
'I—I—I dunno,' replied Chippy.
Another stronger puff of wind, and a little train of bright sparks shot into the air. Now the boys saw two great gleaming eyes, low down, within a foot of the ground, like some creature crouching to spring, and again the awful wild cry rang out some little distance away.
'Oh—oh—Chippy!' gasped Dick, 'I'm j-j-jolly frightened.'
'S-s-same 'ere,' returned the Raven.
'So I'm going b-b-bang at it, whatever it is.'
'S-s-same 'ere,' muttered the Raven, with chattering jaws.
'Come on!' yelled Dick; and the two scouts threw aside their blankets, bounded to their feet, and dashed at the monster in the dusk beyond the fire. Chippy was nearer, and his patrol staff dealt the first blow. Down it came with a thundering whack on something; then Dick sailed in with the tomahawk. But he had no chance to put in his blow, for the creature was off and away, with a thud of galloping hoofs, and a terrific snort of surprise and alarm. Twenty yards away it paused, and made the river-bank resound again—'Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!'
'Why, it's a confounded old jackass!' roared Dick; and then the two boys burst into a peal of laughter almost as loud as the brays of the assaulted donkey.
'Well, I'm blest!' said Chippy, 'if that ain't a good un. The least I thought on wor' some tramps comin' to pinch all we'd got.'
'But what made that frightful noise?' asked Dick, as they went back to the fire and began to pile fresh logs on from a heap which had been stacked away.
'I dunno,' replied his comrade; 'it wor' pretty rum. No jackass as ever lived 'ud mek' a row like that.'
They sat for a while by the fire, which soon burned up cheerfully, and made the camp seem home-like at once. Suddenly the wild cry broke out again, this time straight over their heads. The boys looked up quickly, and saw a bird flitting silently across the light of the merry blaze.
'Theer it is!' cried Chippy—'theer it is! A scritch-owl—naught else.'
'Is that a screech-owl?' said Dick. 'I've heard of a screech-owl many a time, but never heard its call. It's a jolly horrid sound.'
'Ain't it?' rejoined Chippy. 'Wot between wakin' up sudden, and hearin' 'im 'oot, an' th' ole jackass a-cavortin' round, I was wellnigh frit out o' my senses.'
Dick laughed and poked the fire with a stick. The logs flared up, and the pleasant blaze was warm and comforting. He looked at his watch.
'It's just half-past two,' he said. 'Fancy, Chippy, half-past two in the morning, and we're sitting by a camp fire.'
'It's great,' said Chippy; then he gave a tremendous yawn.
'Feeling sleepy?' said Dick.
'We'd better turn in again, I reckon,' said Chippy, 'or we won't be fit to goo on our tramp again to-morrow.'
Dick nodded in agreement, and the boys added a few fresh pieces of wood to the fire, and rolled themselves up once more in their blankets. In a few moments they were soundly off to sleep again, and when they were wakened next time it was by the sun clearing the ridge and shining full upon them.
'Here's a jolly morning, Chippy!' cried Dick, unrolling himself from his blanket and springing to his feet. 'The sun's hot already. We're going to have another splendid day.'
The Raven sprang up in turn, and the scouts shook out their blankets, and tossed them across a furze-bush close at hand to air before they packed them away. The fire had burned down, but they soon revived it by tossing armfuls of their bed upon it, and in a couple of minutes the larch needles were crackling by thousands as the flames ran through the tindery tips. The logs were carried back, and carefully replaced on the heap from which they had been taken.
Next they went down to the river, stripped, plunged into the clear, cool stream, and swam about like a couple of young otters. There were no towels in the outfit, so when they came to land again they rubbed off as much water as they could with their handkerchiefs, and finished drying by turning about fifty Catherine-wheels on a sunny patch of the bank. When they were dressed again, they were glowing with warmth, felt as fit as a fiddle, and were ravening for breakfast.
'What's the bill of fare, cook?' laughed Dick.
'Bread, tea, an' trout,' growled Chippy, 'an' a nailin' good brekfus too. I wish as everybody 'ad got as good.'
'Right for you, old boy,' replied Dick; 'which trout shall we have?'
'Yourn, the big un,' replied the Raven. 'I'll show yer how to cook 'im proper.'
The fire had burned away to the glowing embers which the camp cook loves, and Chippy, having gutted the fish, broiled it in the hot ashes, while Dick boiled water, and made the tea, and cut more slices from the loaf.
Then they attacked the broiled trout, and, big as it was, they made it look rather foolish before they had finished. The piece that was left Chippy wrapped up in dock-leaves and stowed away in the haversack.
'Come in handy next go,' he remarked.
After breakfast they sat for an hour to see the fire out, and Chippy took the line from the rod and put it away.
Then they got into marching trim again, took their staves in their hands, and set off up the valley. Twice or thrice they looked back at the spot where they had made their first camp, but soon a spinney hid it from their view.
'Good old spot,' said Dick. 'I shall never forget it. It was a jolly good camp for a start, Chippy.'
'Yus,' agreed the Raven, 'spite o' the jackass. Theer he is.'
There he was indeed, a placid brown-coated old donkey, cropping the grass on the common on which he had been turned out. The boys gave him a cheer, and the donkey, when he heard their shout, lifted his head and brayed long and sonorously, as if he understood all about it, and was eager to reply.
Tuesday morning's march was fairly uneventful. The comrades did quite a number of good turns for people, for, like good scouts, their eyes were always on the watch for anyone who needed a helping hand, and Chippy commented on the number of chances which turned up.
'Rum, ain't it?' he remarked; 'afore I wor a scout, I never used to twig how many chances there are o' lendin' a hand. I s'pose they wor' theer, only I ne'er seed 'em.'
'That's about it,' said Dick. 'I've noticed just the same thing myself. Doing your work as a scout teaches you how to keep your eyes open.'
Midday brought them to the edge of a wide stretch of heath country, where they were quite at home. They halted as soon as they reached the heath, built their fire, and made a good meal on the smaller trout, the remains of the big one, the remains of the loaf, and a billy of tea.
The afternoon journey lay directly across the great, lonely track, and they only saw two or three small hamlets, dwellings of broom-squires, heath- and furze-cutters, or squatters. As the afternoon wore on the sky began to wear an ominous look. The scouts had seen several signs that rain was near. For one thing, a very sure sign, distant ridges had shown themselves sharply clear in the afternoon sunshine, and had looked far nearer then they were. Now great blue-black clouds began to roll slowly up the western sky.
'Going to be a rough night, Chippy,' said the Wolf.
'No mistake, Dick,'replied his companion; 'it'll be too wet for the open to-night. We'll have to look for shelter.'
'If we can only do a turn for someone and get permission to sleep in the hayloft,' went on Dick, 'that would be first-rate. We don't want to spend money on lodgings.'
'Soon bust the ten bob that way,' grunted Chippy.' 'Look, theer's a village right ahead, wi' trees an' fields. We'll be out o' the he'th soon. P'raps we can manage it there.'
The scouts pushed on steadily. They did not know it, but an adventure awaited them which would settle the question of the night's lodging.
On the outskirts of the village a mill-wheel droned lazily as the boys swung at scout's stride down the road. Suddenly the drone died away, and by the time the comrades were abreast of the quaint old wooden water-mill the wheel was still, and its day's work was ended.
The hatches were raised, and the water, no longer turned to its task, was pouring at a swift race into a pool below. The race was crossed by a small wooden bridge with a single handrail, and over the rail hung a little girl, about seven or eight years old, watching the swiftly running water.
As the scouts came in sight of the child a strange thing happened. The little girl straightened herself and held the rail firmly by both hands. Then, her eyes still fixed on the racing water, she began to swing slowly from side to side. She gave a start and tried to run across the narrow bridge, but fell upon her hands and knees. Here she began to swing again from side to side, rocking farther over at every swing. The foaming, swift-running race had fascinated her, had dizzied and bewildered her, and was swiftly drawing her to itself. She was now below the single handrail, and there was nothing to prevent her toppling into the darting mill-race.
'She'll be in!' shouted Dick, and the two scouts rushed at full speed to a wicket-gate where a path ran from the little bridge to the road. Chippy was through first, and flew like a greyhound for the bridge. Dick was a little behind. The Raven sprang on to the bridge and made a snatch at the little girl's frock. His hand was darting out when she rolled over and fell, and he missed his grip by inches. The child's body was at once whirled away down the race.
Chippy flung off his haversack, and was about to leap when Dick yelled: 'No, no, Chippy! It's mere madness to jump into the race. This way! this way!'
The Wolf tore along the margin of the race, casting off haversack, jacket, and hat as he ran. At the foot of the torrent the little girl had been whirled out into the pool, and was just sinking as Dick flew up. With all the impetus of his run he shot out from the bank and clove the water with a long swift dive. His eyes were open, and he saw a dark mass slowly sinking in front of him. He made a swift stroke, and had a good handful of clothes in his right hand. With his left arm and his feet he struck out for the surface, and was up in an instant. The tail of the race set up a strong current which swept inshore, and this current caught rescuer and rescued and brought them up at a point where Dick was in reach of Chippy's patrol staff. Chippy, who had seen his comrade's idea, had followed, and was now ready to lend a hand.
'Here, Dick!' he shouted, and stretched out his strong stick. Dick seized it, and Chippy drew both inshore.
'Take her first,' gasped Dick. 'There's no bottom; the bank goes straight down.'
He seized a tuft of rushes springing at the edge of the water and supported himself, while Chippy lifted the little girl out of the water, and laid her on the bank. In a second Dick was beside him. Relieved of the weight of the child, Dick swung himself up and scrambled out nimbly.
As he shook himself, an elderly man in white dusty clothes ran across the bridge and down the bank towards them. It was the miller. The shouts of the boys had called him to the mill-door, and he had seen the plucky rescue. He ran up trembling and white-faced, too shaken for the moment to speak. The little girl was his grand-daughter, the child of his only son.
Chippy looked up sharply as he came.
'Wheer's the nearest place wi' a fire an' a woman in it?' cried the Raven.
The miller pointed to his house, a little behind the mill, and shaded by a grove of chestnut-trees.
'Ah! I didn't see it at fust,' said Chippy, and he caught up the little girl in his wiry arms, and hurried for the bridge. He crossed it with speedy foot, and Dick and the miller followed. The door of the house was open, and Chippy marched straight in and laid his burden on the hearth in front of a blazing wood-fire. The miller's wife came downstairs at that moment, and uttered a cry of alarm.
'What's come to Gracie?' she said.
'Your little gell, eh?' said the Raven. 'She tumbled into the race, an' my mate fetched her out. She's more frightened nor hurt, I shouldn't wonder. She worn't in above a minnit.'
He left the child to her grandmother's care, and went out to meet Dick and the miller. The old man was thanking Dick with a voice which still quavered, for he had received a great shook.
'Don't worry,' said Chippy cheerfully; 'she'll soon be all right. Th' old lady's lookin' arter her. Now, Dick, wheer are ye goin' to dry yerself?'
'Come into the mill,' cried the old man. 'There's a good fire in the drying-kiln.'
'That'll do,' said the Raven, 'an' if ye'll kindly oblige wi' a blanket or suthin' to wrap him in while his things are a-dryin', that'll be all right.'
'Ay, sure, anythin' I've got ye're more than welcome to,' said the miller. 'I'll niver forget what ye've a-done this day. How I could ha' faced my son if aught had happened I don't know, an' that's truth.'
He took the scouts into the mill, and then hurried away to the house. Dick stripped off his dripping clothes, and the comrades wrung out all the wet they could before they hung them over the kiln.
'I can manage as soon as my shorts are dry,' said Dick. 'I chucked away the coat and haversack with the spare things in them, and they're dry now.'
The miller came in with a big blanket, and Dick wrapped himself in it, while Chippy ran off to collect the traps they had flung aside at the moment of the rescue. When he came back he began to laugh at sight of Dick.
'Now, Wolf,' he said, 'if yer 'ad a few feathers to stick in yer hair, ye'd look just like some big Injun sittin' outside his tent.'
'Outside his wigwam,' grinned Dick. 'Well, it's jolly comfortable inside a blanket, anyhow. You're pretty wet, Chippy.'
'Yus; the water run on to me a bit off the little gell,' said Chippy. 'I'll stand up to the kiln, and soon get dry.'
The miller had gone away again, and this time he returned with a jug of steaming tea, two cups and saucers, and a plate heaped high with food.
A drap o' meat an' hot drink will do ye good,' he said, an' ye can peck away while the clo'es do dry.'
Chippy chuckled. 'How's yer tender conscience?' he murmured to the Wolf. 'Fair enough for us to tek' this, ain't it?'
'Fair enough?' cried the astonished miller, who had caught the remark. 'Well, what a man ye must think me! I'd give a bite an' a sup to anybody; an' after what ye've done, I'd pull the house down to please ye.'
'It's aw' right,' cried the Raven hastily. 'I don't mean wot you mean. It was only a bit of a joke wi' my pardner.'
'Oh, ay, a joke—well,' said the miller; 'but ye're welcome, an' more than welcome.'
'How's the little girl coming on?' cried Dick, in order to turn the subject.
'Bravely, bravely,' cried the old man. 'She'd swallowed a tidy drap o' water, an' felt pretty queer. But she's comin' round now. How did ye come to see her?'
Dick related the story of the child's fall, and the old man declared he'd put more rails to the bridge.
''Twor' the runnin' water carried her beyond herself,' he said. 'Ay, sure, that wor' it.'
Before the boys finished their meal the threatened storm broke. There was a tremendous downpour of rain, thundering on the roof and lashing the windows.
'I'd just as lieve be agen this kiln-fire as out in that,' remarked the Raven. 'Seems to me we'll put up here to-night.'
'I dare say he'll let us turn in on his hay, or something like that,' said Dick. 'We'll ask him when he comes back.' For the miller had gone again to the house in his anxiety to see how his grandchild was getting on.
Chippy turned the shorts, which had been put in the best drying-place, and felt them.
'They'll be dry in no time now,' he said, and returned to the jug for the final cup of tea which it contained.
'At the rate we're going on,' laughed Dick, 'we could stop out a month on our ten shillings, Chippy.'
'It 'ud suit me proper,' said the Raven, cutting his bread against his thumb with his jack-knife. The miller had brought them knives from the house, but the scouts preferred to use their own.
The old man was gone a long while, and when he returned Dick had got into his shorts and dry things, and was himself again.
'Ah!' said the miller, 'now p'raps ye'll step across to the house. My missis do want to see ye an' thank ye.'
The scouts did not look very happy over this, for they both hated any fuss. But when they got into the big kitchen they found it was all right. The miller's wife was not a fussy person at all, and they were at home with the old lady in a minute. The little girl was sitting beside the fire in a big chair. She looked very pale, but was quite herself again.
''Tis a new thing to her, you see,' explained the miller's wife. 'She's my son's child, and lives over to Baildon, forty mile away. I don't know as ever she'd seen the race a-runnin' afore—leastways, from the bridge.'
'It made my head swing,' put in the child.
'Ay, it turned her head all swimmy like,' said the miller. 'Well, it's a merciful providence there wor' brave hearts at hand to save ye. Now,' he went on to the scouts, 'I can see by yer knapsacks an' sticks as ye be on a sort o' journey through the land.'
'Yes, we're on a scouting tramp,' said Dick.
'Ah!' said the miller, and rubbed his ear.
Dick saw he did not quite understand, and he entered on a short explanation of their movements.
'Walkin' from place to place, be ye?' said the old lady. 'Then ye must stay wi' us to-night, an' I'll see ye have a good bed.'
A good bed! The scouts looked at each other in dismay. Perish the thought! They were not out to sleep in good beds.
'Haven't you a hay-loft?' asked Dick.
'Yes,' replied the miller. 'What of that?'
Again Dick explained. The miller and his wife were rather puzzled at the idea of the boys preferring the hay-loft, but they were willing that the scouts should do as they pleased; and that night the two comrades rolled themselves in their blankets, and slept snugly side by side in a nest of soft sweet hay.
The next morning they were up bright and early, intending to slip off before the people of the mill were astir; but they reckoned without the miller, who was up earlier still, and insisted that they should eat a good breakfast before they started. And when at last they struck the trail once more, they carried a huge packet of sandwiches the miller's wife had cut for them.
It was mid-morning before they got the knots out of their neckties, for they followed quiet ways on which few people were to be met. Then they approached a small town entered by a steep hill. At the foot of the hill an old man was struggling to get a hand-cart loaded with cabbages up the slope. The scouts called upon him to ease up; then Chippy took the shafts, and Dick pushed at the side, and they ran the heavy hand-cart up the hill to the door of the greengrocer, whose shop the old man supplied from his little market-garden. At the top of the hill, as they rested to get their wind, a cheery-looking gentleman drove by in a dog-cart. He smiled at sight of them and their task, saluted, and called out; 'Well done, boy scouts!'
The comrades saluted him in return, and he drove off, waving his hand.
'I'll bet he's an instructor,' said Chippy.
'I shouldn't wonder,' returned Dick. 'He looked cheerful enough to be one of ours.'
They only stayed in the town long enough to despatch a post-card, of which Dick had a small stock in his haversack, to Bardon, to say all was well, then pushed on, and were soon in the open country once more.
Two miles out of the town they met a comrade. They were passing a house standing beside the road, when a boy came out at the gate. He started and stared at sight of them, then gave the secret sign in full salute; for he had observed the badge on their hats, and knew them for patrol-leaders. They returned the salute, and the stranger stepped forward and held out his left hand. They shook hands, and he produced his badge.
'I'm No. 7 Midmead Owl Patrol,' he said. 'Midmead's about half a mile farther on. You'll see the village after you turn the next corner.'
He inquired where they had come from, and the Bardon boys told him, and they chatted for some time. The Owl was very deeply interested in their journey, and wished a hundred times he could go on such a tramp. Finally he rushed back into the garden from which he had come. 'Wait a minute,' he said; but the scouts had to wait five minutes before he returned with his hat full of new potatoes.
'Look here,' he said. 'Jolly good, aren't they, for so early in the season? I've grown them in my own garden. I've got a piece of the garden, and I grow stuff, and sell it to buy all I want for scout work. I've done splendidly with new potatoes. I sowed very early, and covered the tops with straw when there were any signs of frost, and got the first potatoes in the village, and made rattling good prices. Do take a few. They'll come in handy at your next camp.'
They thanked him, and Chippy stowed the potatoes away in his haversack. Then their fellow scout, whose name was Jim Peel, accompanied them through Midmead and half a mile beyond.