For the first time in his life he was realising that, though it is very easy to slide down a rope, it is quite a gymnastic feat, only to be mastered by long practice, to climb up a cord that is comparatively slight.

"Oh, why didn't I remember to make a knot at every foot?" thought the lad, as he severely abused himself for his folly and ignorance during the intervals of struggling hard to get, if only a few feet up, towards the window, but toiling in vain and only growing hotter and more exhausted in spite of all.

He rested for a while, and once more tried, rested, and tried again, and at last, utterly fagged out, he gave up in despair.

He was so wearied out that, still holding by the rope, he sank upon his knees amongst the shrubs that dotted the broad bed beneath the windows, and even when his breath was coming easily once more, and the hot burning pain in his chest had subsided, the spirit to make another attempt was wanting, and, with a feeling of despair increasing, he began to plan what he should do till morning—whether he could get round to the back and find an entrance to the stables and pass the night in a loft, so as to try and steal in some time in the morning, and reach the attic unseen.

"But Waller will be going up and finding that I am gone," he thought. "He will see the rope hanging out of the window, and—Oh, what an idiot I have been! If I had only waited and been patient for another day or two, perhaps—" He stopped short, for he was conscious of what sounded like a deep sigh close at hand, then of a heavy stertorous breathing, and, dimly seen, not a couple of yards away, he made out the shape of a big, heavy, stooping man, passing over the lawn very slowly, and as if looking for him. For that was the only interpretation that he could place upon the man's movements.

It was not Waller, nor the gardener, for certain; but who it could be, in his excitement, he could not hazard a conjecture. He himself was fugitive and spy, and the only interpretation natural was that this man was hunting for him, and he was lost.

So startled was the boy by the adventure, so exhausted by what he had gone through, that it never occurred to him to make a dash for liberty. He crouched there, literally paralysed, and for the moment he could not believe it true that, due to his silence and position, he was unseen, and the man had passed away into the darkness, and his heavy panting breath had died away. In the reaction came the thought of what he ought to do, and with it the wonder that it had not occurred to him before.

Pausing a few brief moments to make sure that he was quite alone, Godfrey rose from his crouching position, and, with the rope gliding through his hand, he stepped outward on to the lawn at right-angles to the front of the house, to feel the next minute the sharp needles of the big fir-tree brushing his face and making a crickling, crackling noise as the rope, which passed through his hands, rustled among the boughs.

The next minute he had forced his way in close up to the trunk, and, running the rope through his hands, till he got hold of the free end, he fastened it round his waist and then began to climb.

It would have been easy enough getting from bough to bough, which stood straight out, and was facile for one who mounted as if he were going up a ladder; but there was the rope, which kept catching and the noise it made as he had to shake and snatch to free it in its passage amongst the lower branches.

But he persevered, and climbed and climbed with his task growing lighter, the branches thinner, and he found himself right up the grand old tree, which towered above the roof, leaving him now on a level with the window from which he had lowered himself.

Godfrey paused, breathless, with one arm round a horizontal branch to rest himself a little and listen; but all was still, and, untying the rope from about his waist, he passed it round the tree, a comparatively easy task now, for, embracing the trunk, his hands touched, and directly after he was hauling upon the rope, had drawn it tight, so tight that it was pretty well horizontal, when, passing it round the trunk again, he knotted it firmly, forming a spider line ready for him to creep along to his sanctuary in the roof.

It required a little nerve, but the lad was desperate, and, trusting to his knots at either end being firm, he took hold of the rope, let his feet glide down, and then began to travel hand over hand, swinging more and more till his feet ceased to touch the nearest, boughs, when, throwing them up, he hooked first one leg and then the other over the giving rope, and, relieving the weight upon his arms, began to creep more quickly over the ten or fifteen yards which separated the tree-trunk from the house.

The rope, in spite of his efforts to tighten it, formed a deep bow as he went along, easily at first, but with the difficulty increasing as the depth of the curve was passed, and the latter part was somewhat of a climb.

But almost before he could realise it, he was passing through the window with his eyes closed, and his first intimation of the success of his scheme was given by his right hand touching the knot which attached the rope to the attic beam.

Dropping his feet to the floor, and trembling violently with excitement and exertion, the lad took a step to the window and peered out, listening; but all was still, and, taking his knife from his pocket, he felt for, and mounted the stool again, sawed through the rope, and, twisting it up till he had it tight from the tree, he leaned out, pulled hard once more so as to get the spring of the fir, and then threw it with all his might.

There was a faint rustle as, helped by the bend given to the upper part of the trunk, the rope left his hand and fell amongst the needle-covered boughs, and then, closing the window, the lad, panting more from excitement than exertion, crept to the door and listened till, making sure that he heard Waller's step below, he rushed to the bed, dragged down the clothes, sprang in, drew them up to his chin, and then, with his face to the wall, lay with closed eyes, striving hard to subdue the heaving of his breast.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A REPRIMAND.

Godfrey, as it happened, had time for his excitement to calm down, for, after listening intently for Waller's foot upon the last flight of stairs, one of which always gave out a now familiar crack, he found that he had allowed his imagination to invent, for he had not heard his companion coming up. In fact, a good ten minutes elapsed, during which the silence was profound, and, growing hotter than ever, lying there beneath the clothes, fully dressed, and after going through a great deal of exertion, the listener half raised himself to get out, either to undress or to sit down calmly and wait.

He was hesitating which to do, when there now came that unmistakable crack which made him nestle down in the bed again, and draw the clothes to his chin, just as there was the sharp rattle of the key in the door. This was flung open, and Waller sprang in, to dash through the darkness and thrust his head out of the window and look down into the gloom beneath. Drawing back directly, he faced inwards.

"Godfrey," he whispered sharply, "where are you? Are you there?"

There was no reply.

"Do you hear?" whispered Waller, a little more loudly. "Where are you? What have you been up to?"

Still no reply, and the boy crossed quickly to place his hand upon the bed, and say, in an excited whisper as if relieved by what he had found—

"Oh, you are here. I thought you had gone. You can't be asleep. Why don't you speak? There," he cried, loudly now, "you are shamming!" For his hands had been travelling over the clothes. "Why, you are dressed! There, out you come!" And catching hold of the coverlet, he stripped everything right down to the foot.

Startled at this unexpected action, Godfrey sprang up, and, with hands rapidly following the gliding clothes, he seized them, threw himself back, and dragged them up to his chin again.

"There, I knew you were shamming! What game have you been up to?"

"Eh? What?" faltered the lad, trying to speak as if he were confused. "Is anything the matter? Have the soldiers come?"

"No," cried Waller hotly, "but I have. There, it's no use to try and keep up that sham. What have you been doing? You may just as well confess. There, you have got your boots on, too. You have not been doing that for nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"That you are trying to hide something, and you only got into bed to hide it when you heard me coming. What have you been doing?"

"What have I been doing?"

"Yes. I know."

Godfrey was silent.

"I did trust you. Thought you wouldn't attempt to do anything without confiding in me. You have been trying to do, something with the rope."

"Well," said Godfrey sourly, "suppose I have! What then? And how did you know?"

"How did I know? Why, I was just taking a walk round outside, and I thought I'd have a look up at your window, and I don't know how it was, but I seemed to have a fancy that you had been striking a light, and had got a candle burning; and that meant for one of the servants to see, perhaps Joe Hanson, when they all knew that I was downstairs. You didn't do such a mad thing, did you?"

"No, of course not," said Godfrey sulkily.

"Then what did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? What made you throw a rope out of the window so that the end of it hit me right across the head? What rope was it? How came you by it? Oh!" The boy dashed to the great press, pulled out one of the lower drawers, and thrust in his hand. "I thought so! You have been getting out that coil to fasten it to the window, and let it slip."

Godfrey was silent.

"Do you know the end of that hit me right across the head when you dropped it?"

Still no answer.

"How I could have been so stupid as to let you see, I don't know. Why, you meant to go off on the sly by yourself. Were you going to run right away?"

"No," replied Godfrey. "There, I'll tell you. I couldn't bear it any longer. It was so dreadful being shut up, and I only wanted to go and have a walk in the woods. I meant to come up again."

"And you let the rope slip, and lost it. Lucky for you. Do you know what it meant? You being strange to this place, and not knowing which way to go, either losing yourself in the dark, or else blundering into the village, where you would have been seen by some one. Why, the chances are that you would have blundered up against Joe Hanson, who generally goes round of a night seeing that the fowls are all right and no fox about after the ducks. I call it too bad, Godfrey, when I have been trying so hard to keep you safe until we can hear that the soldiers are gone. Now, I say, why don't you confide in me as you should? Don't you believe in me?"

"Yes, thoroughly," said Godfrey, sadly, as he stretched out his hand in Waller's direction, touched him on the arm, and began to slide his fingers down till they touched his hand; but Waller shrank away.

"You don't trust me," he said, "and I shan't trust you."

"There, I'll confess all about it," said the lad, in a low, husky tone. "I know now it was half-mad of me, but I couldn't bear the silence and loneliness any more. I felt that I must go and breathe the fresh night air somehow, and so I fastened the rope and slid down and went and had a walk. It was after I had got back again," he continued hurriedly, feeling too shamefaced to relate all the facts, "that I threw the rope out of the window; and then you came up suddenly, and I felt so guilty that I pretended I had gone to bed."

"Just like a naughty little boy who knew that he had done something wrong," said Waller bitterly. "I wouldn't have believed that a young fellow like you, almost a man, would have acted like a child."

"Don't be hard on me, Waller. You don't know what I suffered. You can't think what it is to be a prisoner like this."

"No, and I can't think what made you act as you did. I can't understand how you managed to climb up again. But why did you chuck the rope out of the window? You couldn't have heard me coming then."

"No," said Godfrey; and then it all came out.

"Oh," said Waller, "of course that was a white owl; but it was just as I told you. Old Joe does make a snoring sort of noise when he has been walking fast or mowing, and he was prowling round before he went back to the cottage, and looking to see if Bella had shut all the windows. He's rather fond of catching her out in forgetting them, and then he comes and tells tales, and they quarrel. Joe has got pretty sharp eyes, and you must have sat there squat or else he'd have seen you. Well, I suppose I must forgive you, but you had a very narrow escape. Do you know what this means?"

"Yes; as you say, that you will forgive me, and we are going to be friends again."

"Yes, but something more. That I must be up before daybreak, go to the tool-house for a rake, and smooth over your footsteps in the long bed under the windows, and after that, get up the old fir-tree and pull down the rope. I almost wonder that you didn't break your neck. You must have been half-mad, old fellow."

"Yes," said Godfrey, with a sigh, "I must indeed."



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE SEARCH.

Godfrey started up from a deep sleep, to see it was morning with the sun shining brightly, and that the birds were singing, while Waller was standing by his bedside smiling at him as he looked at him wonderingly, and apparently quite confused.

"Come, old fellow, wake up," said Waller. "I have been up two hours."

"Up two hours! I—there's nothing wrong, is there?"

"Wrong? No. You are always thinking some one's coming after you. It's all right."

"But I don't understand," said Godfrey.

"Why, you don't mean to say you've forgotten all about last night?"

"Last night!" cried the lad, with a start.

"Oh, I had forgotten. No; I was not quite awake. You have been up early to go and get that rope."

Waller pointed to the big, old easy chair.

"Does seem like it, doesn't it? There it is, all soaked with dew. I soon got it down, and I have been busy over the bed. You had trampled it terribly, and there were two great bits of ivy snapped off as well and lying there. I've made it pretty tidy, and there has been such a heavy due that your footprints on the grass, and those of Joe Hanson, going round the house, are pretty well taken out. They'll be all right now, I think."

"Oh, thank you," cried Godfrey, with a sigh; "but now, I suppose, I must give up all hope of going into the woods with you again."

"Nonsense! I only want you to wait till it's sensible to go."

"Ah!" cried Godfrey. "I like to hear you talk so. Do you know, I was dreaming this morning about what you said the other day."

"What was that?"

"About getting me down to Lymington, and on board a fishing-boat."

"And so I will."

"Thank you. Then we will start to-night."

"That we won't!" cried Waller. "Stuff! Nonsense! I hear from our gardener that there are soldiers going about from place to place in the forest, and as likely as not we should run right up against them, for they would be sure to be keeping watch at night. You wait a bit, and as soon as I think it's safe, and we have made all our plans, we will go. But don't you be in such a hurry. You are company for me, and I am sure my father wouldn't mind your staying on a while to get strong. I want to hear that the soldiers are gone, and then you will be like a visitor, and we will have a good time of it in the woods, fishing, and collecting, and one thing and another."

"No," said the lad sadly; "England is no place for me. I must get back to France."

"You wait till you get better," said Waller, "and you will talk differently."

"Oh, but I am putting you in such a false position. Your servants will be finding out that you have got me hidden here."

"They'd better!" cried Waller hotly. "What business is it of theirs? I am only answerable to my father."

"And what will he say to you when he knows what you have done?"

"What will he say?" cried Waller enthusiastically. "He'll say—he'll say—I don't know what," and the boy stopped short.

Another day elapsed, and Waller was chatting eagerly with his prisoner, and planning with him that they should steal out as soon as it was dusk, and go and have a ramble in the woods.

"But it will be dark," said Boyne wearily.

"There," cried Waller, "you are speaking as dumpily as you did when we first met. That means that you ought to be out in the fresh air. Of course it will be dark. No, it won't, because there will be some moon to-night; and if it were dark it wouldn't matter. There's always something to hear, with the creatures in the forest hunting—owls, and stoats, and all sorts of night things. Why, I can find my way anywhere nearly in the forest of a night. You don't know what fun it is till you get out there. I have been out with Bunny Wrigg sometimes when he has been setting night-lines in the old hammer pond, and catching big eels, and sometimes wild ducks, and—Pst! Someone coming!"

"Master Waller, are you upstairs?" came from below; and the boy pressed his finger on his lips and took a little saw from where it was hanging against the wall, put it down noisily, and picked up a hammer from where it lay upon a bench-like table.

The next moment he was tapping a box softly, as if he were driving in a nail, while the uncarpeted stairs leading to the attic creaked, and the light step of the girl was heard coming towards the door.

Next moment she was knocking sharply.

"Master Waller! Master Waller!" she cried excitedly. "You must come down directly; you are wanted."

"Eh?" cried the boy. "Who wants me?"

"There's Tony Gusset, sir, Martha's brother, and he's come along with six soldiers."

Waller sprang from his seat, striking the table a heavy blow with the hammer in his excitement as he rose, while his companion, who had followed the example, took a couple of steps towards the open dormer window, and stood there with his lips pinched together and hands clenched.

"What do they want?" cried Waller sharply, as he caught his companion by the wrist.

"They are coming to search the house, sir."

"What?" shouted Waller hoarsely.

"Coming to hunt for spies, sir."

Waller drew a deep breath as if pulling himself together to face the desperate position, and his companion looked at him wonderingly as he called out, in a voice full of assumed bravado:

"Oh, are they! I will come down to see about that!"

"Yes, sir, do, please. Martha's in such a way, and she's quarrelling with her brother awful."

"Go on down!" cried Waller, and he gave the table a heavy thump with his hammer before listening to the girl's descending steps, and breathing hard as if he had been running the while.

As the girl's steps died out he faced round to look in the fugitive's eyes. There was a faint smile on the lad's lips as he caught Waller's hand and gripped it fast.

"Thank you," he said very calmly. "It's all over, Waller—brother Waller. There, I am going to meet it like a man."

"What!" said Waller, in a hoarse whisper, as if he thought their words might be heard through the open window. "What are you going to do?"

"Surrender," was the reply, "and take care that you come to no harm for harbouring me here."

Waller laughed mockingly, as he snatched away his hand and clapped it and its fellow upon the other's shoulders.

"You've been too long in France," he whispered. "An English boy would not give up like that. Never say die!"

"What do you mean?" panted the other, startled by Waller's earnestness.

"To dodge these bloodhounds, as you call them, and give them the slip; and as for old bumpy Gusset, this is his doing, because he's got a spite against father, and if you and I don't serve him out for it, my name's not Waller Froy. Pst!" he whispered, with his lips close to the other's ear. "Don't make a rustle nor a sound," he continued, after whispering for a few moments, "and never stir. I'll send them about their business, never fear."

Short as was the time that this interchange of words had taken, it was too long, for loud, hoarse voices were heard as of men assembling in the hall, and, giving his companion an encouraging slap upon the back, Waller dashed out of the room, banged to the door, locked it, and thrust the key into his pocket, keeping his hand there as he carelessly made for the staircase, descended to the gallery, and the next minute was looking over the broad balustrade down into the hall, where a couple of soldiers stood, with grounded muskets, staring through the dining-room door, while another was in the porch on guard, and voices came from out of the room.

"Hullo!" shouted Waller to the two soldiers, who had turned to look at him directly. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

Without waiting for an answer he took a couple of steps, threw himself on to the great carved balustrade, and, rapidly gliding down upon his chest, literally shot off before he reached the upright scroll at the bottom, and faced the men. His loud questioning voice brought out a sergeant, musket in hand, and sword and bayonet in his diagonal belt behind, closely followed by a big, fat, puffy, unwholesome-looking man with sallow face and baggy eyes.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

THE SEARCH CONTINUED.

The man had on a cobbler's leather apron, which he had rolled up and tucked in the strap. He had pulled on his jacket, but evidently without turning down the sleeves of his shirt, which showed through just beneath his shoulders in two rolls like mock muscles, while a very much battered felt hat, with a flap looped up to form three cocks, was worn jauntily upon his head.

"Morning, sir," said the sergeant, looking the boy up and down sharply. "Are you Squire Froy?"

"No, I am his son," said Waller haughtily, as he strode past the stiff-looking military man so as to bring himself within arm's length of the cobbler, and, with a movement quick as a flash, struck off his cocked hat and sent it flying. "What do you mean by that, sir?" he shouted at him. "Is that the way to enter a gentleman's house?" and with a half-run across the echoing polished oak boards he made a kick at the hat, and, to the great delight of the soldiers, sent it flying out through the porch.

"If you weren't an old man I'd kick you, too," he continued, as the astounded constable dressed in a little brief authority, opened his mouth like a carp, too much amazed to speak. "You would have come sneaking round to the back door if my father had been at home, or else have stood wiping your dirty shoes upon the mat." Then, turning his back upon the man he addressed, he faced the leader of the soldiers. "Now, sergeant," he said, "what's the meaning of this intrusion?"

There was a good deal of the cock bantam about the boy's ways and speech, but it was manly all the same. He had real authority, too, for speaking out to the rough, coarse-looking villager, and with quick military precision the sergeant, whose eyes sparkled on hearing his rank acknowledged, saluted sharply.

"Beg pardon, sir; on duty," he said. "Me and my men, we are in search of French spies who are loose somewhere about the forest, and this man from down the village tells me that one or two of them are likely to be harboured here. Not a pleasant job, sir, but I am only obeying orders, and we shall have to search the place."

"Search the place!" cried Waller hotly.

"Yes, sir, in the King's name."

"Oh," said Waller coolly, as he darted a furious glance at Gusset, who was still opening and shutting his mouth without making a sound; and then, noting that Martha and Bella had come to the door leading to the servants' offices, and were looking on, while the gardener, bearing his scythe, had come round to the porch, to be stopped by the soldier placed as sentry, who held his musket across the man's chest, "In the King's name, eh?" said Waller coolly.

"Yes, sir. Very sorry, but my duty."

"Oh, well, I am not going to blame you," said Waller; "but I should have thought as my father is a county magistrate this house ought to be respected."

"Yes, sir, of course," said the sergeant; "but don't you see, it's like protecting him against the French."

"Search away, then," cried Waller, "and when you have done—here, Martha!"

"Yes, sir," came from the door.

"Don't let these soldiers go away without giving them a crust of bread and cheese."

"No, sir; I'll have it ready directly," cried Martha; and then, in a whisper to her fellow-servant, "Bless the boy! Don't he speak up like a man!"

"Where are you going to begin, sergeant?"

"Thank you, sir, for the lunch," said the sergeant, smiling; and he gave the lad another admiring look—one that took him in from top to toe, while his eyes seemed to speak the thoughts of his heart. "What a smart young officer he'd make! Shouldn't I like the job of drilling him into shape!"

"Oh, we will begin at the bottom, sir, and search to the top."

"But suppose there are Frenchmen here," said Waller, laughing, "why, they might be getting away into the woods while you are talking!"

"Not they, sir," said the man, with a cunning smile. "I have got a man at each door as sentry, and two more on vedette back and front. Not much fear of that."

"But suppose they make a bolt, like the rabbits do in the forest," said Waller.

"Bad for them if they did, sir," replied the sergeant, rather sternly. "My men can shoot."

Waller whistled softly.

"Oh, ho!" he said; and he tapped the barrel of the sergeant's musket with his knuckles. "Loaded?"

The man gave him a quiet nod.

"Go on, then; search away, and get it done. You have been in the dining-room, I see."

The village constable, who had been listening, with his eyes starting and ears seeming to project forward, here broke in, speaking in a husky, oily voice.

"Big cellar, sergeant, all underneath the house, and iron gratings to let in the light."

"What do you know about it?" cried Waller sharply. "Have you been prying and peering in?"

"I am a-doin' of my duty, Master Waller Froy," said the man, swelling up like a turkey-cock, which bird he seemed greatly to resemble as, having found his voice, he began to show his importance, but with no other effect than to make the soldiers grin, while one of them, who had walked out past the sentry and picked up the cocked hat with the muzzle of his musket, now presented it to him.

"Don't—don't do that!" cried the constable, starting back as if it were something alive. "You should never point a gun at anyone when you speak!"

"Didn't speak," said the soldier, grinning more widely.

"There, take your hat, constable," cried the sergeant, giving Waller a comical cock of his eye. "Brown Bess never barks unless we touch the trigger. Yes, sir, I have looked through the dining-room. Beautiful old-fashioned room, too. Excuse me for saying so. No secret passages there, I suppose?"

"No," said Waller; "not one. Come and look here, then, next. I'll take you wherever you want to go. This is the drawing-room," and he threw open the door of the handsome low-ceilinged, old panelled chamber, with most of the furniture dating back so that it was nearly as old as the house.

As he led the way into the room Waller winced, for Anthony Gusset was putting on his cocked hat again; but as he caught the boy's furious look he snatched it off.

"Look here, sergeant," said Waller quietly; "I'll take you all over the house and answer any questions you like to put, or won't answer them, just as I please, but you can do your duty without that fat, stupid, village bumpkin?"

"To be sure I can, sir. Here, you, constable, stop there with my sentry at the porch, and if you see a Frenchman bolt, you shout."

As he spoke, the man backed Gusset into the hall, for he was following into the drawing-room, making him open his thick lips in fish like fashion once again as if to speak; but a prod in the ribs given by the sergeant's forefinger forced obedience, and he went out unwillingly into the porch.

The sergeant returned to Waller, who was standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, whistling an old country ditty softly, while the two soldiers made a pretence of searching the room, and then looked for orders from their officer.

"You haven't looked up the chimney, my lads," cried Waller, laughing. "Oh, you needn't stare; there's plenty of room in it for a horse to get up," and he laughingly stepped forward into the wide chimney-corner. "Look here, officer, you don't often see a place like this."

"My word, no, sir!" said the sergeant, stooping down and following Waller into the great wide place. "They used to build in the old days, and make room for the smoke. Why, the ivy's hanging right down through the top."

"Yes," said Waller: "plenty of ivy here. Now you'd like to see the library?"

This was looked into, and then a slight search was made of what Waller called the schoolroom, and a little, old-fashioned boudoir.

"That's all here," said the boy, "except the servant's places."

"What about the cellar, sir?" said the sergeant.

"Oh, we'll go into that through the outer hall," and, Waller, leading the way, the searchers passed through the various offices, and, on lights being provided and a big key being fetched from the squire's study table, the big, crypt-like, vaulted cellars were searched from end to end. Lastly, Waller led the way upstairs to the gallery, where the oaken polished floor echoed to the soldiers' heavy tread.

"Where does that staircase lead, sir?" said the sergeant, as his task drew near its end.

"Attics in the roof," said Waller. "Up you go."

"Well, sir, I am getting rather tired of this job," said the man, hesitating.

"Oh, but you have got it to do. Finish it off," said Waller carelessly; and he made way for the soldiers to pass up, and stood below swinging himself to and fro, balancing himself toe and heel.

"Come on, my lads," said the sergeant. "Forward, and be smart. I am thinking that crust of bread and cheese must be ready by now."

The men laughed good-humouredly, and the bare staircase creaked and groaned beneath their heavy tread, which directly afterwards made the upper passage, with its sloping ceiling, which followed the shapes of the gables, echo.

That part of the search was quickly done, not so quickly that it did not give time to Waller to whistle the stave of the old Hampshire ditty three times over.

He had just got to the last bar for this third time when the butt of the sergeant's musket was dropped with a heavy bang upon the floor overhead.

"Beg pardon, sir," he shouted down to Waller. "There's one of these 'ere doors locked!"

"Eh?" cried Waller, whose face now looked scarlet, and who stood for a moment or two holding his breath.

"One door here locked, sir. I ought to see into every room."

"Oh, to be sure! That's my den," cried the boy cavalierly—"my workshop. I am coming," and springing up two steps at a time he faced the sergeant, who, with two men, was waiting by the locked door.

Waller thrust his hand into his pocket, and the sergeant looked at him sharply, for his breath, possibly from the exertion, came thick and fast, while the key seemed to stick in his pocket as if it had got across.

"There you are," he said jauntily. "It's full of my rubbish and odds and ends. Catch!"

He pitched the key, and the sergeant caught it with one hand as cleverly as if he had been a cricketer, turned, and began to insert it in the lock.

"Mind the snakes!" cried Waller mockingly; while, in spite of a strong effort, he felt half choked, and his voice sounded strained and hard.

"Snakes?" said the sergeant, pausing with the key half turned. "Up here?"

"Yes," said Waller; "at least a dozen. I am a collector, you know."

The sergeant gave him a searching look, hesitated a moment, and then, with a half-smile upon his lip, he turned the key. The bolt flew back with a sharp snap and he threw open the door.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

STILL SEARCHING.

With a mingling of instinct and the practice of the profession, the sergeant's two followers brought down their muskets to the present as the door flew wide, presumably to meet the attack of the snakes, but the curled and dried-up skins, so light without the sand that a sharp puff of wind would have blown them away, lay still upon the shelf, and there was no rush for escape made by Godfrey Boyne. The place, full of its litter of odds and ends dear to the young naturalist, and with its open windows, lay open to the gaze of the soldiers, and the sergeant, after a sharp look round, which satisfied him that the place was empty, turned to Waller.

"I thought it meant game, sir," he said. "Where's your sarpints?"

"Yonder on the shelf," said Waller, with a mischievous look in his eyes.

"Yah! Stuffed! Well, sir, we have done; and thank you for being so nice to us over an unpleasant job."

"Oh, don't name it, sergeant," said Waller coolly.

"Right about face, my lads! Forward! March!—Halt!—About that there window—how far is it to the ground?"

"Oh, nice little jump," said Waller coolly. "About thirty feet, I suppose."

But though he spoke calmly there was a curious twitching at the corners of the boy's eyes and his nether lip seemed to quiver as the stiff, keen-looking man marched to the casement and leaned out, looking sharply to right and left.

"Don't see any bits, sir, lying below," he said with a grim laugh. "No one seems to have jumped out there. My word! You grow a fine lot of ivy about this house, but I suppose it wasn't planted yesterday.—Now, then, forward, my lads!" he continued; and then, with a laugh and a nod to Waller, he jerked his right thumb in the direction of the men. "They are not thinking of catching spies, sir, but about that bread and cheese."

"Ah, well, they shall have it as soon as you have done," said Waller, the nerves of whose face had ceased to twitch.

"Oh, we have done, sir," said the man, "and glad of it. This is not the sort of thing I like. Don't seem proper work for soldiers. I have done, sir, unless you have any other place you want us to search."

"Oh, not I," said Waller. "I shall be glad to see your backs."

The men began to descend, while Waller carefully locked the door and pocketed his key.

"I don't like servants to meddle with my knick-knacks," he said.

"Of course you don't, sir. I used to be very fond of that sort of thing when I was a boy, in Devon."

The next minute they were down in the fine old entrance-hall, to be met by Gusset, who bustled forward out of the porch with his protruding eyes rolling a little as he stared hard at the sergeant, and then, misjudging a movement on the part of Waller, he snatched off his hat.

"You ar'n't found them, then?" he said to the sergeant.

"No, constable; there's no spy here, French or English. It's all a mare's nest, and you have brought us for nothing."

The constable's reply sent a pang through Waller, and brought him down to zero.

"But you haven't been out on the roof?"

"No," said the sergeant mockingly, "nor we haven't been up the chimney. My lads are neither sweeps nor tilers. Think he's flown up there?"

"No," said the constable with asperity; "but I think you haven't half searched. Maybe he's hiding somewhere up in the ivy."

"Ho!" said the sergeant sharply. "Like a cock-sparrow or a rat, eh? I tell you I have searched the place, and I have done."

"And I tell you you haven't half searched," cried the constable. "You must get ladders and go all over the roof. I daresay he's hiding in the ivy."

"Beg pardon, sergeant," said one of the men. "Didn't the good gentleman say something about some lunch?"

"To be sure I did," said Waller, "and it will be ready in the kitchen by now."

"Thank you, sir," said the sergeant grumpily. "I suppose we shall be obliged to have a look at the roof from outside. I don't want to be reported to my captain for not having done my duty. But look here, Mr Constable," and to Waller's great relief the man turned his back upon him and faced Gusset, while the boy felt as if he was turning white, and his hands grew moist. "You gave information," continued the sergeant, "and it seems to me that this is more your job than mine. How are we to get up on the roof?"

"Ladder, of course," cried Gusset eagerly. "They have got long ones here that they use for the apples and stacks. You must get up out at the back."

"Oh, oh, oh!" groaned Waller to himself. "I should like to have you out at the back!"

"Oh, very well," said the sergeant. "Out with you, my lads, and let's get it over," and, as the men marched out, following the constable, who seemed quite at home in the geography of the house, the sergeant stopped to speak to Waller.

"There, sir, you see I can't help myself, so don't blame me."

"No," said Waller; and, in spite of his efforts, his voice sounded very strange. But the man had turned away, and did not heed.

Gusset led the way into the big, open yard at the back, and, acting under his directions, the soldiers followed to a low shed, beneath which one of the long, thin, tapering ladders with straddling legs, used in country places, hung upon two great iron pegs against the wall.

"There you are," said Gusset. "Bring it out! Quick!"

"Here, I say," snarled one of the men he addressed, "who are you ordering about? You are not our sergeant."

"There, don't talk, my lads," cried that individual, coming up. "Bring the ladder out and heave it up against that side of the house where the roof slopes."

At that moment the gardener, who had, as it were, been taken by surprise, and in the rear, came hurrying round from where he had been waiting by the porch in a great state of excitement.

"Here, I say! Hold hard there!" he cried. "What are you doing with my ladder? Let it be! I don't want that broke."

He turned to Waller as if to ask him to put a stop to it, but the boy avoided his gaze, thrust his hands deeply into his pockets, and stood frowning.

"Here, don't you interfere, Joe Hanson; you will be getting yourself into trouble," spluttered Gusset, in his husky voice; and he unconsciously blew out his cheeks and opened his eyes wider as he took a fresh breath. "This here's all in the King's name."

"King's name!" cried the gardener sharply as he lifted his blue serge apron and began to twist it up in a tail to tuck up round his waist. "What's the King's name got to do with it? I am talking about my ladder."

"There, there, gardener," said the sergeant, "don't stop us. I want to get this job done. My boys don't understand ladders like you do; perhaps you wouldn't mind pitching it up against the roof?"

"Oh, very well, sergeant," replied the gardener; "I don't mind when I am asked civilly, but I am not going to have all the country cobblers in Hampshire coming into my yard and meddling with the tools as is in my charge. Here, that's not the way, swaddy," he continued, joining the two soldiers, who, each still holding his musket in his hand, were fumbling awkwardly with the long ladder in carrying it across the yard.

He smiled good-humouredly at the two stiff-strapped and buckled-up men, and took hold of the ladder about the middle.

"There, drop its heel on the ground," he said, "and one of you put your foot on the bottom round."

The soldier promptly obeyed, and the next minute, as the straddling bottom of the ladder was kept down, the gardener ran his hands along beneath it, thrusting it upward round by round till it was perpendicular, when, grasping it firmly, one hand low down and arms outstretched to the fullest extent, he walked quickly across the yard, planted the ladder down close to the house, and let the top fall away from him with a gentle whish amongst the ivy.

"Well done!" cried the two soldiers admiringly; and the gardener came away smiling with self-satisfaction at the men's admiration of his skill.

"Oh," he said to the sergeant, "it's easy enough when you know how."

"That's so, my lad," said the sergeant. "There's nothing like having a man who understands his tools."

Waller still stood frowning and rattling his knife, the key, a piece of curb chain, and a few other odds and ends in the bottom of his pocket, furtively watching the fat constable the while, till he caught sight of the sergeant looking at him, ready to half close his eye in a knowing wink.

"That'll about do," said Gusset; and he looked up to the top of the ladder, half hidden amongst the clustering ivy, then down at the two men, and, lastly, at the sergeant.

"Now, then," he said, in his unpleasant, husky voice, "it's no use to waste time. Somebody had better go up."



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A HOT SCENT.

"To be sure," said the sergeant sharply. "Well, we are waiting. You know the way better than we do. Up you go."

The constable turned upon him in astonishment, blowing out his cheeks and seeming to make his eyes roll, while his naturally rotund figure began more and more to assume the appearance of a fat cork float.

"Me! Me! Me go up there!"

"To be sure," said the sergeant. "You country chaps are used to this sort of thing. My lads are not. Scaling ladders is more in our way, and they are bad enough when you have got to carry your Brown Bess."

"To be sure," said the gardener, chiming in, with a grin of satisfaction. "That's right enough, sergeant. Up you go, Fatty!"

"You will get yourself into trouble, Joe Hanson," said the constable pompously. "This here's the second time I have warned you. You, sergeant—you know I can't get up there at my time of life, and it's your duty to send your men. I order you, in the King's name, to search that roof."

"Oh, very well," said the sergeant gruffly. "Here, number one and two, stand your muskets up against the wall. No, one of you only. You, Jem Cogan; you are a light one. Up you go. You are not quite so heavy as the constable here."

"Haw! haw! haw!" laughed the gardener. "That's a good one!" And he bent down to slap his knees, while, to the constable's great disgust, the hoarse laugh was echoed in the shape of a titter uttered by the two maids, who had come to the back kitchen door.

Gusset blew out his cheeks again, and moved slowly towards the foot of the ladder, where, as the soldier placed his musket against the sill of one of the lower windows and then began lightly to ascend, Gusset set his feet very far apart, as if in imitation of the ladder, planted his fat hands upon his hips, and began to follow the private's movements, leaning somewhat back the while.

All at once there was a quick movement in the little group round the foot of the ladder, for, partly moved by the spirit of mischief, as well as by the intense desire to create a diversion, Waller made a rush.

"Hold hard a minute, soldier!" he shouted. "I know the way best; let me come first."

As he spoke he literally charged at the constable, who was now leaning backwards a little out of his perpendicular, and came heavily in contact with him, forcing the man to make a snatch at one of the rounds to save himself from falling.

The next moment the top of the ladder began to glide sideways, describing an arc as it rustled through the ivy. The mounting soldier, feeling it go, made a jump to alight upon his feet, but, not having time to properly judge his distance, he came down upon the constable instead, and there followed a short scuffle, out of which Waller was the first to gain his feet, to turn savagely upon the heavy, sitting man, and exclaim, amidst roars of laughter:

"Why did you do that?"

"Yes," shouted the gardener; "I saw him pull it over. Just look here, Master Waller! Here's my beautiful new ladder snapped in two!"

It was a fact. There lay the pieces; and the soldier, whose face had flushed with rage, but who was not hurt, now joined in the laughter of those around, while the constable still sat looking piteously about, as if for the sympathy that did not come.

The sergeant was the next to speak; as he bent over and held out his hand.

"Well, you have done it now, master," he said. "I shouldn't have thought an old chap like you would get playing a trick like that."

"Oh!" groaned Gusset, looking at him piteously. "Help me, please! I think there's something broke!"

"Not there," said the sergeant cheerily. "You wouldn't break; you are too soft and inji-rubbery, old chap. Here, you two, set him on his pins again. I am very sorry. Mr Froy, sir, about this ladder, but you see it wasn't my men's fault."

"No, of course not," said Waller. "They couldn't help it. Blundering up against the ladder like that! It looks as if he had been drinking."

Meanwhile Gusset was "set upon his pins," again, as the sergeant expressed it—in other words, he was helped up, groaning and breathing hard, to look from one to the other for commiseration, but finding none.

"Well, this is all waste of time, my lads," said the sergeant, pulling himself together. "I say, gardener, we must have another long ladder, I suppose."

"You'll get no more of my ladders to break," said the gardener, wagging his head, "in the King's name or out of the King's name."

"What!" cried the sergeant, with mock fierceness.

"Well, how can you," said the gardener, "when there aren't none? There's two little ones as you can tie together if you like, and Mrs Gusset will lend you a bit of clothes-line. But you wouldn't catch me venturing my carkidge up them if she did. But you can do as you like, unless old Waxy Fat would like another try."

"The lunch is quite ready, Mr Sergeant," came from the kitchen door at that moment.

"Thank you, ma'am," said the sergeant, with a salute and a smile. Then he turned and looked at the broken ladder, next at Waller, and then at the mournful face of the constable, who looked back at him in despair.

"Well, master," he said, "my lads aren't much of angels, and they can't fly up on to the roof, but they are looking hungry, as fellows as haven't had a bite for the last six hours; so, with your leave, Mr Froy, sir, I will give orders for a flank attack upon that there bread and cheese.—Fall in, my lads! Left face! Forward! March!" and, placing himself by the leading file, he led the way straight up to the kitchen door, halted his men, gave the order to pile arms, and marched them into the kitchen, going himself directly after to collect his sentries and bring them up to the attack.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE SEARCH RELINQUISHED.

The little military party had no cause to complain of the hospitality of Brackendene.

The constable had, for, after staying behind, looking about him for sympathy, and finding none, the sound of the voices in the kitchen and the rattle of knives upon plates had such a strange effect upon him that it was quite curative, and, forgetting his injuries, he moved pompously up towards the kitchen door, feeling that, as one of the search-party, he had a right to partake of the refreshments.

But to his intense disgust he was met at the threshold by his plump, pleasant-looking sister, who planted herself, arms akimbo, right in his way.

"Well?" she said sharply, and with an attempt to look fierce—which was a perfect failure, by the way, for Martha Gusset's was one of those countenances that never can by any possibility look angry, only a little comic when temper had the sway.

"No, not well, Martha," said the constable plaintively; "but I don't think I am very much hurt."

"Serve you right if you were," said the cook, "coming here like this when master's out, and making a fuss about hidden spies, just to make people believe what a great person you are! They don't know you like I do. Well, what do you want?"

"The young Squire said we were all to have lunch, and I have dragged myself here to have mine."

"Dragged? Rolled, you mean!" cried his sister. "You grow more and more like a tub every day."

"But tubs have to be filled, Martha, dear," said the constable, with an attempt at a smile.

"Not in my kitchen if they do," said Martha, with a snort; "and Master Waller never meant you to come in with the soldiers, so the sooner you go off back to the cottage the pleasanter it will be for you, for if I am put out I speak my mind, and I'm put out now so there!"

Martha whisked herself round and marched back into the kitchen, while the constable, who seemed to have the yard to himself, sighed, and went across to the mounting-stone by the stable door, where he seated himself to wait, intently watching the ivy-clothed, highly pitched roof the while, till one of the yard dogs came up cautiously and slowly, and smelt him all round, but made no further advance towards being friends.

That lunch was rather prolonged, and, as he listened, Waller, with his hands in his pockets, marched up and down the hall, frowning and thinking till he recalled the breaking of the ladder and the aspect of the village constable, when his frown faded away as if by magic, and, throwing himself into one of the big old oak hall chairs, he rolled about in it, laughing silently till he cried.

At last a sharp order rang out in the kitchen, and though he could not see, Waller heard the men spring to their feet and march out into the yard, where he followed quickly, in time to see them take their piled muskets, while Joe Hanson, the gardener, who had been playing his part at the lunch with greater zeal than he bestowed upon his mowing or digging, busied himself with picking up the broken ladder, grinning across at Tony Gusset the while.

Directly after there were a few parting words passing between Waller and the sergeant, the men joining in giving their young host a cheer, which struck very emptily upon Gusset's ear, and made him mutter vows about being even some day, as he scuffled across to get close up to the soldiers and march with them back to the village.

And now that all danger seemed to be over, Waller's spirits rose, and, in company with the gardener, he walked with the search-party along the drive, out at the gate, and along the road to the edge of the Squire's estate, keeping up a running fire the while to harass the rear of the column, which was formed by Tony Gusset, the actual rearguard being composed of the sergeant, who fell back with the pair from the Manor to march along silently and solemnly, though thoroughly enjoying the impromptu fun.

The gardener commenced it by calling out in an excited tone, as if he had suddenly recalled something:

"Here, hi! Gusset!"

"Yes," said the man, stopping, to turn round his great full-moon face.

"Why, you didn't take the soldiers to look at the cucumber-frames. Bound to say there's one of them there spies lying snug under the leaves."

"Ugh!" grunted the constable angrily; and he turned again and went on.

"I say, don't be in such a hurry; there's the sea-kale pots, too."

"Ah, to be sure!" cried Waller, loud enough for the constable to hear. "Gusset must be right. Better come back and have another look. He may be in one of the sties disguised as a pig."

Just then the road was leading them along by the bank of a fine old hammer pond, a great black-looking pool surrounded by a dense growth of alders and water-loving shrubs, while sedge, reed, and rush flourished wonderfully, and formed a mazy home for the abundant moorhens and coots.

As the party moved onward to the village there was a sudden rush and a splash, and Waller called upon the sergeant to stop.

"Here's a likely place, sergeant," he said.

"Nonsense!" said the man, "I know what that splash was. It was a big pike."

"It might have been," said the gardener, grinning, "but it's more like the sort of splash a French spy would make when he saw soldiers' scarlet jackets. Why don't you make old Waxy dive in and have a hunt all round under the bushes?"

"No, don't, sergeant," put in Waller. "It's ten feet deep in some places."

"Pooh! What does that matter?" cried the gardener, who, like the boy, spoke loud enough for the constable to hear. "He wouldn't mind. He'd sink to the bottom and walk about safely all over the mud."

"That he wouldn't," cried Waller. "He'd shoot up to the top again like a cork."

And then the banter ceased, for the sergeant's men passed through the swing gate, and to Waller's great relief he was able to make his way back to the hall, very silent now as he went over the day's proceedings, and thought of the chances of the men coming back to make a fresh search, while the gardener kept on harping metaphorically upon the broken ladder, and what "master would say" when he came back.

At last the boy got rid of him, and made his way into the house, where he had a hard fight to curb his inclinations to rush up at once to his room.

This desire he kept down till he had made sure that the servants were at their dinner, and then, after a cautious saunter about the grounds to convince himself that the gardener had gone to his cottage, Waller hurried up, and paused breathlessly at the door of his den, which he opened and closed, and then locked himself in.

The next minute he had crept out of the window, to hold on by the sill and feel with his feet amongst the ivy for the stone gutter which ran all along the front of the house. Upon this, half hidden by the ivy, he proceeded cautiously to his right, where a deep gully between two gables went right across the house, with the ivy positively rioting and pretty well filling it up with long strands and great berry-bearing clumps. Here, completely hidden, Waller crept along three or four yards.

"Only me," he said merrily, "Don't shoot! How are you getting on?"

A head and shoulders were slowly raised from among the thick glossy leaves, and he was confronted by Godfrey's sombre countenance.

"Miserably," he said. "I had hoped that this despicable hiding was at an end. Pray help me to-night to get away."

"Oh, I know what's the matter with you," cried Waller. "You are hungry and tired out. But come along back into my room. But I say, you found it easy enough to get here, didn't you? I was in a fright at first; then I thought that you would be sure to creep out."

"Oh, yes, easy enough," said the lad. "Is the enemy quite gone?"

"Yes, right away, and well satisfied. They won't come again."

"Why do you speak like that?" said Godfrey, sharply. "It sounded as if you were afraid that somebody else would come."

"Well," said Waller slowly, "I am not quite satisfied about our fat-headed constable. He's very suspicious, and wanted to search the roof. But I managed to put a stop to that, for if they had got up here you must have been found."

"Yes," said Godfrey, as, after following his companion back through the ivy, he seated himself, away from the window, in the den, where Waller related to him the history of the raising of the ladder.

"That man believes I am here, and will come again. It is quite time you got me away. It was he who came prowling round the house last night, and not your gardener—a big, heavy man, not like Hanson at all."

"Yes, you are right," said Waller; "and he must have seen you in the lane and gone and sought out the soldiers at once."



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. I ar'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."