'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.



CHAPTER XXXIII

THE MARCH RESUMED

'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.



CHAPTER XXXIV

SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE

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.



CHAPTER XXXV

A BROTHER SCOUT—THE TWO TRAMPS

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.

At midday they halted, and built their fire, and overhauled their store of provisions. They had stayed their march beside a little brook, and in it they washed the potatoes, and then boiled them in their jackets in the billy. After the potatoes were boiled, they washed the billy, and then boiled more water, and made their tea. They were very hungry, for they had made a good long tramp during the morning, and the sandwiches which the miller's wife had given them, the new potatoes, and the tea went down very well. Then they stretched themselves at ease on the grass in the hot sun, with the idea of taking a good rest.

Dick spread out his map, and took his pencil to mark out the route of their morning's journey.

'We're all right, Chippy,' he said in a tone of deep satisfaction; 'we've broken the back of our journey. Look, we're between five and six miles from Newminster. That will be just a pleasant stroll this afternoon.'

'An' that 'ull mean three days each way,' said the Raven.

'That's it,' said Dick. 'We'll do it comfortably, Chippy, my boy.'

He carefully marked the track they had followed, then closed the map, and returned it to the haversack. Their haversacks lay at their feet between them and the dying fire; their staves were beside them. The two scouts now stretched themselves comfortably in the sun, drew their hats over their eyes, and discussed their own affairs.

'I say, Chippy, we're bound to have plenty of cash to see us through now,' said Dick, 'even if we have to spend steady on for the rest of the journey.'

'Rather,' replied Chippy; 'there's a lot o' flour left, an' some tea an' sugar, an' the bakin'-powder, an' the lump o' salt; an' we've only spent eleven three-fardens so fur.'

'Yes,' chuckled Dick. 'I can see father smiling now as he gave me the two half-sovereigns. I know as well as can be what he thought. He felt sure we should be back before now, with our ten shillings for way-money all blued. And one half-sovereign is in my belt, and almost all the other is in my purse.'

On the other side of the hedge below which the scouts lay, a couple of evil faces looked at each other with evil joy in their eyes. Every word the boys were saying was falling into the ears of a pair of big, burly tramps. One was a stout, middle-aged man, the other a tall young fellow with long legs; both belonged to the worst class of that bad order.

When will this pest of lazy, loutish loafers, often brutal and dangerous, be cleared from our pleasant highways and byways? There are beautiful stretches of our country where it is not safe for women and children to stroll unattended through the quiet lanes, simply because the district lies on a tramps' route from one big town to another, and is infested by these worthless vagrants. There is nothing that dwellers in the country see with greater satisfaction than the conviction, slowly ripening in the public mind, that this tramp nuisance and danger must shortly be dealt with, and the firmer the hand the better. They are the people to shut up in compounds, where they should be made to do a few strokes of labour to earn their living, instead of terrorizing cottagers and dwellers in lonely houses for food and money. But now to our heroes and their experience with two members of this rascally order, feared and dreaded in every solitary neighbourhood.

We have said that the scouts had made their halt beside a brook. They had paused on the bridge where the brook ran under the road they were following, and had observed that a path turned from the road, passed through a narrow gateway from which the gate was missing, and went along the bank. They had gone down the path some sixty or seventy yards, and had made their halt at a point where there was a strip of grass some ten yards wide between the hedge of a field and the bank of the brook.

Half an hour before the boys arrived, a pair of tramps had turned down the same quiet side track, intending to eat the food they had begged in a hamlet near at hand. They had gone some distance beyond the spot where the scouts halted, and did not discover the presence of the latter until they were on their way back to the high-road. The younger tramp was leading the way, and when he saw the boys lying on the bank with their haversacks at their feet, he stepped back into cover, and the two rascals took counsel with each other.

'Might be the price of a pint or two on 'em,' said the elder, a villainous-looking rogue, his tiny bloodshot eyes firing at the thought of drink.

'Mebbe,' said the other; and they went back a score of yards, found a gate, climbed over it into the field, and crept stealthily up on the other side of the hedge. Crouching behind the boys, they heard Dick speak of the money he had about him, and they looked at each other with evil, greedy joy on their scoundrel faces.

The assault was made at once, and through a gap close at hand. It was the stout, heavy man who led the way. With an agility no one would have suspected in his bulky, clumsy-looking figure, he bounded nimbly through the gap, caught up the haversacks, tossed them three yards to the other side of the fire, leapt the fire himself, then stood on guard between the haversacks and their owners. He was followed by the tall young man, who posted himself in front of the scouts, and threatened them with a heavy stick which he held in his hand.

The attack was so sudden, so unexpected, that the scouts, stretched comfortably at full length, could do no more than sit up before their enemies were in position.

'Kape still!' roared the long-legged tramp. 'If e'er a one on yer tries to get up, I'll land 'im one acrost the nut!'

It was quite clear that he was in very savage earnest, and the two scouts sat still and looked upon their foes.

The younger tramp was solemnly ferocious in looks, but the bulky, elder man was grinning all over his drink-blotched face, his broken yellow teeth all on view between purple lips. He had a huge bulbous nose, far ruddier than the cherry, and it shook as he laughed harshly at the captives.

'That's the way to talk, Sam,' he wheezed; 'gie the fust un as moves a good lowk as 'll mek' 'im see stars.'

'What do you want?' demanded Dick. 'You have no right to interfere with us. We have done no harm to you.'

'Hark at 'im!' chuckled the elder villain; 'no right t' interfere, an' the young shaver's got the price o' gallons on 'im.'

Long Legs changed the stick swiftly from right hand to left, and stretched out the right towards Dick.

'Fork over,' he said shortly and savagely.

Dick had been surprised at the sudden appearance of the desperadoes, but that was nothing as compared with the surprise which now fell upon him. For Chippy burst out crying with all his might.

'Oh, don't 'urt me,' wailed the Raven. 'Oh, please don't. Oh, kind gen'l'men, let me go. I ain't got no money, nary copper: look 'ere'; and in his wailing earnestness he scrambled to his feet, and pulled the pockets of his shorts inside out.

The blow which had been threatened did not fall. Although Chippy had got up, it was to wail and lament, and the tramps took no notice of him except to laugh at his distress. You see, they knew where the money was, and Dick sat still.

'See,' moaned Chippy. 'I ain't got nothin' in my pockets but a knife. It's 'im wot's got the money, mister, not me;' and the Raven pointed to his comrade.

'I'll bet we know that wi'out yer tellin' us,' jeered Long Legs. 'We heerd every word ye said about that. Come on, fork over,' he added roughly to Dick.

Dick did not move; he only looked up at his brother scout. He could hardly believe his own eyes. Chippy's face was twisted into the most frightful contortions of grief, and tears as big as peas were hopping down his cheeks. The Wolf's bewilderment was complete.

'Oh! oh! mister,' cried Chippy, 'lemme go! lemme go! I ain't got a farden.'

'All right, wait a bit,' chuckled the younger tramp. 'We'll put that straight. We'll go whacks with ye. Now then, you, turn that money up, will ye?' he went on to Dick. 'There's nineteen bob an' a farden on ye, we know. We'll ha' the nineteen bob, an' yer mate shall ha' the farden.'

This struck Fiery Nose as a very good joke, and he grinned till he showed his yellow fangs right back to the grinders.

'Righto, Sam,' he laughed; 'we'll mek' a division of it.'

'Oh, oh!' moaned the Raven. 'I don't want no farden. Only lemme go. Oh! oh! B.P. Lemme go, mister, please, an' I'll thank ye ever so much.'

Dick stiffened himself from head to foot. What was that Chippy had worked in among his sobs and moans? B.P.—the motto of their order—'Be Prepared.' Dick held himself tense as a bowstring, ready for anything.

'The one wi' the rhino ain't in no 'urry to fork over, Sam,' said the elder tramp. 'Ye'll ha' to go through 'im, while I see wot's in these 'ere bags.'



CHAPTER XXXVI

CHECKMATE

The haversacks were behind him on the bank of the brook. Sam, for his part, turned upon Dick with a ferocious oath, and a fresh demand for the money. Of the whining, puling, weeping Raven they took no notice whatever. No notice! Ah, ha, Messrs. Long Legs and Fiery Nose, you are making the mistake of a lifetime.

No sooner was their attention drawn from him than the Raven made his leap, swift and silent as a charging panther. He darted upon the stout tramp, whose back was towards him, as its owner bent over the haversacks. Chippy placed both hands against a certain portion of the tramp's person which afforded him an excellent purchase, and gave a tremendous shove. Fiery Nose stumbled forward, caught his feet in the haversacks, grabbed wildly in the air to save himself, found nothing to fill his clutch, and pitched head first over the edge of the bank into the deep, slow brook. Crash! Splash! he went into the pool, and the water leapt like a fountain under his terrific plunge. But the Raven did not stay to observe the success of his manoeuvre. Quick as a trout in a stream he was off at full speed, but he had the haversacks tucked safely in his arms.

Round whirled the younger tramp in time to see his comrade hit the water. He swung up his stick for a blow at the nimble gliding Raven, but as he sprang at the scout, Dick thrust his staff between the long legs, tripped him up, and sent him sprawling with his face in the hot, smouldering ashes. Chippy was already racing for the road, and Dick followed at top speed.

In a moment the tramp was on his feet, and dashing the wood ashes out of his eyes and hair. Then he caught up the stick which had flown from his hand and pursued the fugitives, a wild medley of execrations pouring from his lips. In the pool Fiery Nose wallowed and blew like a grampus, and howled for help.

Dick looked back and saw the long-legged tramp covering the ground at a tremendous pace. He was a big, powerful fellow, and was armed with an ugly club. The scouts were not out of the wood yet. They turned a corner and saw the gateway with no gate close before them. An idea shot into Dick's head.

'Run straight ahead, Chippy,' he called. 'Leg it down the road.'

The Raven made no reply. He obeyed orders, feeling sure that his comrade had a reason for what he said.

The boys shot through the gateway, and Dick turned abruptly and dropped down beside it. The gateway was a couple of posts on which a wicket had once swung, nothing more. But a thick bramble-bush grew beside the right-hand post, and in cover of this bush Dick was crouching. He peered through the bush and saw the tramp come tearing round the bend. The rascal saw Chippy disappearing over the bridge, and thought the second fugitive had already vanished. He roared a fresh set of exceedingly impolite remarks and wishes, and came on like a tornado in full career. And as he charged into the narrow gateway, a stout patrol staff slid across, and was laid on the inner sides of the posts. He never even saw it, so madly was he bent on his pursuit, and it did its work to a miracle. He put one foot fairly under it, and as he rose to his wild bound the staff took him a little above the ankle and tripped him up. The surprise was so complete that he could not save himself. He came down headlong on the hard causeway, and ploughed up the gravel for a foot or more with his features.

The crash knocked all the wind out of him: it deserted his body in a fierce whistling sound, something between a grunt and a howl, and he was half-stunned besides, with his nose flattened into his face.

Dick gave a yell of delight, whipped out his staff—the stout bit of tough ash had taken the shock with hardly a quiver—and raced after his comrade. Chippy was a good way down the road, and when he glanced back, Dick waved his stick in triumph. The Raven at once eased to allow his friend to come up, and Dick shouted the glad news as he joined his comrade.

Chippy shouted with delight. 'He's done for,' cried the Raven. 'A1, that was. No more runnin' for 'im just yet. That was splendid, Dick.'

The boys swung their haversacks across their shoulders and continued their way at a steady, loping trot.

'Oh, Chippy,' cried Dick, 'but yours was the splendid dodge, the way you took those fellows in! They never dreamed but that you were sick with fright. How did you manage it?'

'Oo,' said the Raven, 'there ain't nothin' in that. Anybody can mek' believe to cry and beg for mercy, like.'

'Ah,' cried Dick, 'but there were real tears streaming down your face, Chippy. How did you do that?'

'Easy as easy,' replied the Raven. 'Yer just jab yer fingers in the corner o' yer eyes. I'll show yer.'

'Thanks,' laughed Dick. 'I'll take your word for it, old boy. It doesn't sound too delightful.'

'I wonder if the old un's out o' the pool yet,' said Chippy, as they trotted on, and the scouts shouted with laughter as they recalled his terrific plunge.

'The other can go back and help his friend out when he's got his wind again,' said Dick.

'Rough on the pool, though,' muttered the Raven; 'that nose o' his wor enough to mek' the water boil.'

'What luck to lose nothing!' cried Dick.

'Barrin' my stick,' put in Chippy.

'Why, yes,' replied Dick. 'Upon my word, I hadn't noticed that. Of course, your hands were filled with the haversacks, and your staff has been left on the bank where we were resting.'

'Ne'er mind,' said the Raven; 'it's wot we could best afford to lose. Soon cut another.'

The boys did not check their pace until they reached a large village a mile or more from the bridge, and then they dropped into their usual scout's stride.

On the other side of the village they came to another bridge, this time spanning a canal.

'Here we are,' said Dick, for the scouts intended to follow the towpath into Newminster: it would save them a mile and a half of dusty high-road.

They went down to the bank and started off along the side of the canal. It was not a dirty piece of water, malodorous and unsightly, as canals are in manufacturing centres: it was like a straight stretch of a clear, beautiful river. There was a towpath only on the one side. The other was a grassy border, where sedges and bulrushes grew, and cows came down from the meadows to drink.

The scouts had barely gone half a mile when they came upon a barge lying beside the bank. They glanced into its cabin as they went by, and saw that a tiny fire was burning brightly in its stove, and that it was a very trim, smart little place. But there was no bargeman, no horse, no one; the barge seemed deserted. The boys went on, and soon heard cries of anger and distress coming down the breeze. They broke into the scouts' trot, turned a bend, and saw a stout lady pursuing a white horse.

Chippy knew all about canals.

'Broke 'is tow-line, an' now he's 'ookin' it,' observed the Raven. 'Come on—scout's job 'ere.'

The old white horse was not hooking it very fast. There was no need that he should. The stout lady jogged a few steps, then settled into a walk. The old horse cropped the grass beside the water till she was close at his heels, then he jogged off a little and settled down to grazing again. But the active scouts soon settled his hash. They passed the stout lady at full speed, and ran down the old nag within fifty yards. Then Dick led him back to the barge-woman, who was mopping a hot red face with a big red handkerchief.

'Well, I'm more'n a bit obliged to yer,' she panted, 'an' thank ye kindly. The line parted, and I thought I never should ketch that dratted ole creetur. Ah, ye good-for-nuthin',' she cried to the horse, who now held down his nose and looked meekness itself, 'an' the good missis I am to ye. Allus plenty to eat, and no whippin'.'

'He went off on a little beano,' said Chippy soothingly. 'Don't blame 'im. They all will when they get the chance. Now we'll rig 'im for ye tight an' sound.'

The boys led the horse back to his deserted task, fished the broken rope out of the water, and joined the parted ends with a sheet-bend knot, such as all scouts learn to tie.

'Goin' to Newminster?' asked the bargewoman.

'Yes,' said Dick.

'In a hurry?'

'Not particularly,' he said.

'Why not ride along o' me? It ain't fast, but it's as easy as anythin'.'

Now, neither scout would have confessed it to the other for worlds, but each of them was feeling the three days' tramp a little; and besides, the idea of gliding along the river-like canal on the barge, which was very clean and gaily painted, was rather fascinating.

'You're very kind,' said Dick, and glanced at his comrade.

'I'd like it prime,' murmured Chippy.

'Jump on,' said the stout lady; and the scouts were aboard in an instant.

Dick was less familiar with a barge than Chippy, and he inspected with the deepest interest the snug, neat little cabin, as bright and clean as a new pin, with its little stove, its narrow seats, its shelves, and cupboards, with everything stowed away in shipshape fashion, the whole place reminding him of a room in a big doll's house.

Chippy complimented the lady of the barge on the smartness of her ship.

'We keep it as tidy as we know 'ow,' she replied. 'Me an' my 'usband we niver tek' dirty loads—coals, or anythin' like that. Crockery an' earthenware we got under the canvas now'—and she nodded forward—'that's the sort o' load for us. Queer thing the ole horse broke loose this arternoon when I'm by myself, which don't often happen. My man he's gone on to Newminster, an' there we'll stop to-night.' Then she gave her attention to steering the barge round a bend, while the old horse plodded along the bank as meekly as if thoughts of running away could never enter his head.

In a quiet bend of the waterway the bargewoman roared 'Wo!' and the white horse pulled up at once and whickered.

'Time for 'is nosebag,' she said, 'an' 'e knows it very well. An' we'll have a cup o' tea. I allus pull up for that, an' tek' it quiet an' comfortable, wi'out havin' to bother about steerin'.'

She fished out a tin bucket already filled with chaff, and proceeded to climb ashore and hang it round the horse's head.

'Tea for three,' murmured the Raven. 'More grub;' and Dick smiled.

The meal was a very cheerful little affair. The scouts sat on the roof of the cabin in the sunshine, with their cups beside them, and their hostess spread butter liberally on the slices of a large cottage loaf, and encouraged them to eat heartily, and set them a first-rate example herself.

Over the teacups they chatted freely, and the boys explained their movements. Among other things, they narrated their adventure of a few hours ago with the tramps, and the bargewoman was very indignant.

'Lazy good-for-nothin' varmin—that's what I call them tramps!' she cried. 'I know what I'd do wi' 'em. I'd take ivery man-jack of 'em by the scruff o' his neck, an' set him at a job, that I would, as sure as my name's Hester Slade. An' I'd say to him: "When that's done ye'll get sommat to eat, an' not afore." That's wot I'd say. "Work or starve!"' And Mrs. Slade waved the bread-knife above her head, as if it were a sword flourished in defiance of the whole army of tramps in general.



CHAPTER XXXVII

AT NEWMINSTER

'We come off pretty well,' said Chippy—'lost naught but my stick.'

'I'll show you where to out another afore we get to Newminster,' said Mrs. Slade—'a place where my man often cuts a stick. 'Tis a plantation of ashes on a bank lookin' to the north. Heavy, holdin' ground, too—just the spot for slow-growin' tough timber.'

She went to the towpath once more to unstrap the tin bucket from the horse's head, and set him to his task again.

'I fancy we shall have to stay somewhere in Newminster to-night, Chippy,' said Dick.

Chippy grunted in a dissatisfied fashion. The Raven was very keen on doing the trip for the smallest possible outlay of money. It seemed to him so much more scoutlike to live on the country, as they were fond of saying, and to pay for shelter did not seem to be playing the game.

Dick nodded. 'I know what you mean,' he said, for he had quite understood Chippy's grunt. 'But we're bound to make Newminster, and send off a card to show we've been in the town.'

'O' course,' said the Raven.

'And then it will be rather late to start off again and strike for the open country to search for a camping-place.'

'Right, Dick—quite right,' rejoined his comrade; 'the wust of it is as lodgin's cost money.'

'Needn't cost ye a single copper this night, anyhow,' said a voice in their ears, and the scouts jumped. Mrs. Slade had come up unseen, and had caught the last words of the Raven.

'Here y' are,' she went on, and pointed to the snug little cabin; 'that's yourn to-night if ye want it.'

'But you'll need it for yourselves,' cried Dick.

'Not this night,' she replied. 'I've got a married darter in Newminster. She've a-married a wharfinger in a good way o' business. Such a house as she've got! Upstairs, downstairs, an' a back-kitchen.'

Mrs. Slade visibly swelled in importance as she described her daughter's palatial surroundings. No doubt they seemed very extensive indeed after one small cabin. 'An' 'tis settled we stay wi' her to-night, so the cabin 'ere will be empty, an' ye're as welcome to it as can be.'

The scouts' eyes glistened, and they were easily induced to accept the kindly offer, and so they glided on their way towards the town, chatting together like old friends. Mrs. Slade pulled up for a moment at the ash plantation, and Chippy sprang out with the tomahawk. In five minutes he was back with a tough, straight ash-stick, which he trimmed and whittled with his knife as they made the last mile into the city.

At the wharf where the barge was to lie for the night they met Mr. Slade, a short, thick-set man, with a short, broad face between a fur cap and a belcher handkerchief. He was to the full as good-natured as his wife, and cordially re-echoed her invitation for the scouts to sleep in their cabin. The wharfinger's house was near at hand, so that the owners of the barge would not be far away.

The scouts stowed their haversacks and staves away in the cabin of the barge, shut it up, and locked it with the key which Mrs. Slade had lent to them, and left the key at the wharfinger's house. Then they put on their jackets and went for a stroll round the streets of the quaint old city. The long summer evening was dying as they stood below the fine west front of the cathedral, and watched the swallows skimming about the noble towers. Near at hand was a post-office, where Dick triumphantly scribbled, 'At Newminster. All well,' on a card, and dropped it into the letter-box.

'Supper and turn in now, Chippy,' he said,

'Righto,' murmured the Raven. 'We must be off early to-morrow. Road home 'ull work out three or four mile more'n the road 'ere.'

'That's a fact,' said Dick; 'but we'll turn up at Bardon by Saturday night without setting foot in a train yet. Now, Chippy, what shall we have for supper? We've got jolly good lodgings for nothing: we can afford something extra for supper.'

They were going down the street which would lead them back to the wharf, and the Raven paused in front of a butcher's shop.

'Can we sport a pound o' sausages?' he said. 'They'd mek' a good feed to-night, and we'd have one or two left for brekfast again.'

'Good,' said Dick, and they laid down eightpence for a pound of sausages, and threepence for a small loaf, and returned to the barge. Here they fried their sausages and made some tea, for the fire in the stove was not out, and the good-natured bargewoman had left them a small bucketful of coke to make it up again.

After supper they carefully put out the fire, and turned in on the two bunks which lay one on either side of the little cabin. Here, wrapped in their blankets, they slept like tops till five o'clock in the morning.

Chippy was the first to wake, and he got up and thrust his head out at the hatch. His movements aroused his comrade, and Dick sprang to the floor.

'Lucky we've been in 'ere,' said Chippy. 'It's been pourin' o' rain in the night.'

So it had. The hollows among the stones which paved the wharf were filled with pools of water, and everywhere had the fresh-washed look which accompanies a heavy downpour.

'Well, we've been snug and dry enough,' cried Dick. 'Now for breakfast and a start.'

They had cooked the whole of the sausages the night before, so that they did not trouble to light a fire. They finished the loaf and the sausages, and were almost at the end of their meal, when Mrs. Slade came across from the wharfinger's house. Through her good offices they obtained a bucket of clean water, and washed their faces and hands, promising themselves a good dip in the first river they came to in their day's journey. So by half-past six they had said farewell to the bargewoman, and were marching through the silent streets of the little city in the sweet freshness of a June summer morning.

They had entered Newminster from the south: they were leaving it towards the north. In order to cover fresh ground all the time, they had planned their route so that their track as marked on the map showed as a very much flattened oval. They had worked towards Newminster on a south-westerly sweep; they were working home again on a north-easterly tack.



CHAPTER XXXVIII

HOMEWARD BOUND—A DISH OF EELS

For nearly three miles they held to the main road, going due north, then turned aside to a quiet grassy by-track running north-east, and were fairly launched on their new route. Moving in quiet, steady fashion, they made nine miles before they halted, then pulled up below an oak-tree on the borders of a little wood for a long halt during the heat of the day. Both, though in good, hard condition, were dripping with sweat, for the day was unwontedly sultry for early summer.

'Don't mind if I do stretch me legs a bit,' grunted the Raven.

'Yes,' said Dick; 'jolly stiff going to-day, Chippy. Isn't it hot? But we can take a good long rest now. We've broken the back of the day's journey.'

'Right time to do it, Dick,' said his friend.

'Rather,' said Dick; 'no time for a tramp like the freshness of the morning.'

The boys stretched themselves in the shade and lay at their ease for half an hour, then Dick sat up.

'Well,' he said, 'there seems a hollow inside me somewhere.'

'Same 'ere, Dick,' murmured the Raven. 'We'll fill up. Wot's the bill o' fare?'

'Chupatties and tea, I fancy,' replied the Wolf. 'We've been carrying the rest of that bag of flour about since Monday morning.'

'All to the good,' murmured Chippy, 'all to the good. Wot we've dropped in for has saved our——' He pulled up abruptly, and did not utter the word 'cash,' which had been in his mind. 'Shan't mention that,' he continued in a lower whisper still, ''cept we're in the middle of a ten-acre field.'

Dick laughed. 'We got into a trifle of a fix the last time we discussed that subject,' he said. 'I say, Chippy, do you reckon that it was a bit of a blot on us as scouts that we were caught like that?'

Chippy heaved a deep sigh. 'I've never mentioned it,' he replied, 'but it's bin on my mind more'n once. Seems to me we orter scouted round more to find whether there wor enemies in the country. They 'ad us on toast, they did. Reg'lar let down for a pair o' scouts,' and Chippy sighed again.

In order to banish these melancholy thoughts, the Wolf and the Raven began to get something to eat. The Wolf opened his jacket and mixed the flour on the lining, while the Raven fetched water and made a fire, and chopped and peeled and heated a club.

When the dough was ready, Dick worked it into a long strip which was wound spirally round the club. Then the club was thrust into the ground beside the fire, one end of it being sharpened. Now and again the club was given a turn while the dough toasted steadily. Chippy watched the dough, and Dick made the tea.

They ate their meal, rested a couple of hours, then went on again. It was now midday, and tremendously hot. But they were not going a great way. The map showed the winding blue line of a river two miles ahead, and they were in search of it for a pleasant swim.

They gained the bank of the river, sat down a short time to cool off, then stripped and plunged in, and spent a delightful half-hour in the clear water. As they were dressing they observed that a faintly marked path ran through the meadow at the edge of the stream. They followed it when they were ready to march once more, and soon came upon a mill standing at the waterside. Above the mill was a broad pool, and in the shade of some bushes trout were feeding, or, more likely, playing, for now and again one would leap clean out of the water and fall back again with a flash of silver. The boys sat down on the bank beside the water and gazed upon the pleasant pool.

'It would come in handy if you could catch a few of those trout, Chippy,' said Dick. 'Those were all right we caught on Monday night.'

The Raven shook his head. 'Wish I could, Dick,' he replied; 'but that dodge ain't no use now, an' I couldn't get them over theer to look at anythin' I've got wi' me.'

'I suppose not,' said Dick. 'I say, Chippy, see that heap of stones just under the bank here.'

The Raven glanced down and saw what his brother scout was pointing at. It looked as if for generations the millers had flung their broken mill-stones into this part of the pool, and they lay piled against each other with black hollows between.

Chippy looked down thoughtfully, then his eyes lighted up. 'Never seen a more likely place in me life for big eels,' he grunted; 'they love a hole atwixt stones lik that.'

'Do you think we could catch a few?' cried Dick eagerly.

'Shouldn't wonder,' replied his comrade. 'We'll have a go, anyhow. Fust, we want some lobs.'

The search for lob-worms was made at once.

'We'll have to dig for them, I suppose,' said Dick.

'Not a bit of it,' said Chippy. 'I'll show ye a lot quicker way than that.'

He went to the side of the field where there was a ditch nearly dry in the hot sun. He walked along the ditch until he came to a stone. He turned the stone swiftly, and there was almost sure to be a big lob lying underneath it, sometimes two or three. Before they could withdraw into their holes the Raven's finger was pressed on their tails, and they were helpless. In a few moments he had collected more than a dozen big lobs, and these were carried back triumphantly to the mill-pool in his hat.

Next he cut a couple of hazel-rods about four feet long, and fairly stiff, tied a short line to each, and fastened a strong-eyed hook at the end of the line.

'Now we're ready,' he said. 'This little game's called "sniggling," an' it's a sure thing if only th' eel's at 'ome. Lemme get 'old 'o one fust, an' show ye how to pull 'im out.'

Chippy put a lob on his hook, and then pinched a small split bullet—of which his friend had given him half a dozen—on the line about six inches above the hook. He dropped the weighted bait into a dark hole between two fragments of stone, and moved it gently about. Two or three minutes passed; then the Raven drew his bait up.

'Nobody in,' he remarked; 'try next door.' He moved a yard along the bank, and dropped the bait into a second dark crevice. It was seized instantly, and the line sharply plucked.

'One 'ere,' said Chippy; 'there's no mistake about hearin' from him, if there's one about.'

'Look how he's pulling at the line!' cried Dick, as the slender cord jerked again and again.

'Yus,' said Chippy; 'nuthin' plucks an' pulls like an eel. Now he's got a good hold o' the bait, an' out he comes.'

The Raven began to pull firmly but slowly, keeping the line quite taut.

'Don't try to yank 'im out,' he said to his pupil. 'Sure's ye do, ye'll break the line an' lose the lot. Pull gently at 'im till he's tired; then out he comes, smooth an' easy.'

Three or four minutes passed before Chippy drew the snake-like head of the eel out of the black hole between the stones.

'A good un,' he snapped, drew on the line a little harder, and swung an eel weighing half a pound or more to the bank, where he promptly put one foot on the eel and drew the line taut.

'See wot I'm doin'?' said the Raven. 'If ye don't look out, he'll tangle hisself all up in yer line, an' give ye a fine old job to get 'im free.' With that he whipped out his knife, and despatched the wriggling creature by cutting off its head.

Dick now took his stick and line to try his luck, while his comrade dug out hook and bait, which had vanished down the eel's throat. Dick caught a little one in the first hole that he tried, and drew it safely to the bank. But there he failed to control its wild, sinuous movements, and it tangled itself up in his line in such a style that Chippy had to come to his aid.

After that he got on much better, and caught two good-sized ones, and held them and the line taut, while Chippy sailed in with the knife and whipped their heads off.

In a short time they had seven, for the holes were well furnished with occupants, and with these seven they stayed content. They washed them in a quiet backwater, and rubbed them as clean as they could with wisps of dry grass, and then packed them in Chippy's haversack, with more dry grass about them.

'Mek' us a jolly good supper to-night,' said the Raven.

'They will,' cried Dick. 'Now for the road again. We've got an uphill stretch before us, Chippy, according to the map.'



CHAPTER XXXIX

THE STORM—WHAT HAPPENED WHILE THEY DRIED THEIR CLOTHES

Within a mile again, the track they were following—a very ancient vicinal way—began to rise over a long stretch of moorland used mainly for sheep-walks, and covered in places with wide patches of low-growing bilberry-bushes. On some of these bushes the purple little berries were already ripe, and the boys gathered them in handfuls, and ate them as they walked.

Suddenly a low, heavy muttering called their attention to the western sky, and they saw a blue-black cloud rising swiftly.

'Thunder,' said Dick; 'that's what this terrific heat has meant.'

'Best step out,' remarked the Raven. 'No shelter about 'ere for a mile or two.'

They stayed no longer to gather bilberries, but pushed on at a steady swinging stride, looking back from time to time at the storm, which seemed to pursue them. A wind sprang up, and wild gusts raced past them, and howled across the moor. Light, swift clouds which seemed to be flying before the storm hurried across the sky, and the sunshine was swallowed up and the day darkened.

Dick looked back and whistled.

'Here comes the rain, Chippy,' he said. 'We'd better put our jackets on.' They did so, but the Raven shrugged his shoulders as if he was of the opinion that jackets would be but slight protection against the downpour now rushing upon them.

The thunder-shower was perhaps a couple of miles away, and marching across the country in a line as straight as if drawn with a ruler. A clump of pines stood out darkly against the white veil of the streaming rain. As the scouts looked, the pines were swallowed up, and the wall of water stalked swiftly on towards them.

They looked round, but there was not the faintest chance of gaining the least shelter. All round them the earth was covered with low-growing bushes; there was neither tree nor hedge nor fence to break the force of the torrential downpour. A mile in front the road topped the ridge and disappeared.

'There may be shelter beyond the ridge, Chippy,' cried Dick. 'Let's run for it.'

They ran, but in vain. Long before they gained the ridge the storm was upon them—first a few heavy drops, then a downpour which made the earth smoke again. In two minutes the scouts were wet to the skin, and the storm lasted twenty. Then it raced past them, hissing and roaring, and left them tramping down the farther side of the ridge, their boots full of water, and not a dry thread about them save for the blankets stowed in the waterproof haversacks.

When the rain passed away, the two scouts, who had been tramping steadily along without growling at the weather, stopped and looked at each other, leaning on their sticks.

'Well, Chippy,' laughed Dick, 'we look like a pair of drowned rats.'

'That's about it, Dick,' grunted the Raven, and tried to do a step or two of a dance. This set the water bubbling out over the tops of his shoes.

'We must dry ourselves somehow or other,' went on Dick. 'You know, B. P. says it's jolly dangerous to go on in your wet clothes.'

'Sat under a waggon wi' nuthin' on while he dried 'em when he'd been wet,' quoted Chippy.

'And you remember his dodge for drying his toggery?' said Dick.

'Rather,' returned the Raven; 'fire under a cage o' sticks.'

'Right,' said Dick; 'and there's a copse ahead. We'll halt in it, and dry ourselves.'

They marched briskly for the copse, hung their haversacks on the branch of a small, low-growing oak, and went to work at building a fire. It was no easy task, but by searching in corners where thick bushes had turned aside the worst of the downpour, they found odd handfuls of dry stuff to start their blaze. Luckily the matches had been in Dick's haversack, and were perfectly dry. A small dead larch afforded them twigs and sticks when once the fire was started, and Dick chopped the dead tree into small, handy pieces, and fed the flames with them. They did not want a lasting fire, but a heap of hot ashes, and this would be soonest afforded by small pieces of wood.

While Dick was busy with the tomahawk, Chippy attacked a thicket of tall, straight-growing hazels with his knife, and cut an armful of the springy rods. As soon as the fire burned down, the boys took the rods, sharpened each end, took an end each, bent the rod into an arch, and drove the ends deeply into the soft earth. In this way they had soon covered the fire in, as it were, with a great basket. Then they stripped off their sodden raiment, wrung it out, and spread it over the bent hazel-rods to dry.

The excellence of the plan was soon manifest. Clouds of steam began to rise from the wet clothes, and promised that they would soon be dry. But it was cool after the rain, and the clothes hid the fire, and the scouts felt no inclination to sit under a waggon, as their great leader had done; they felt more inclined to move about a little to warm themselves.

'It's jolly cold compared with the heat before the thunderstorm,' said Dick.

'Ain't it?' said Chippy. 'I'll race ye to th' end o' the copse an' back. That'll warm us a bit.'

'Right,' said Dick. 'Let's cut along where the larches and firs are. It'll be fun sprinting over the fir-needles, and soft to the feet. Where do we run to?'

'The big beech yonder,' said the Raven. 'I'll count. We'll go at three.'

He counted, and away bounded the two scouts, racing at their fastest for the big beech which they were to touch, then to return to their fire.

Now, the last thing they expected to have was a witness of their race. They believed that the copse was a lonely patch of wood on the lonely heath. So it was, save for one house which lay just beyond the wood where the ridge sloped away to the south. The house was that of a sheep-farmer, whose flocks fed over the moorland; and as the boys raced through the little wood, the shepherd left the farmsteading, where he had been sheltering from the storm, and came up through the copse to go about his business.

The scouts did not see him, but he saw the scouts. For a few moments he watched the race, his mouth gaping wide in true rustic wonder; then he turned, and hastily retraced his steps to the farm. He burst into the kitchen, where the farmer and his wife were seated at a round table in front of the wide hearth, taking their tea.

'Maister! maister!' cried the shepherd, 'theer's two bwoys a-runnin' about i' the copse wi' ne'er a stitch on 'em.'

'What's that ye say, Diggory?' cried the farmer's wife.

'Ne'er a stitch on 'em, missis, a-runnin' about there like two pixies, they be. A' niver seed such a sight afore in a Christian land. 'Tis like haythens, on'y they be white uns 'stead o' black uns.'

'What do ye make of it, Tom?' said the farmer's wife to her husband.

'Maybe 'tis nought but his simple-minded talk,' replied the farmer, taking a huge bite out of a slice of bread-and-butter.

'No, maister,' cried the shepherd. ''Tis Gospel true, ivery word. Ne'er a stitch on 'em.' And he waved his left hand like an orator.

Suddenly an angry flush sprang to the farmer's face, and he stood up.

'Then, 'tis gipsies!' he cried.

'I dunno,' said the shepherd. 'Brown they hain't, but white as milk.'

'I'll mark their white for 'em,' cried the farmer; and stepping quickly to the wall, he seized a long cart-whip which hung there, and strode from the house.

For years there had been a bitter feud between the sheep-farmer and a large family of gipsies of the name of King. The Kings went about the country in several small bands, and for generations the copse had been a favourite halting-place. But one spring the farmer lost some lambs, and was persuaded that the gipsies had been at the bottom of his loss. So he forbade them the use of the copse, and drove them out whenever he found they had dared to pitch their camp there. He was a hasty-tempered man, utterly fearless and quite unforgiving, so that a regular war had sprung up between himself and the Kings. Now he was persuaded that his enemies had sought the shelter of his copse, and he was off at once to attack them.

He arrived on the scene to find the scouts turning their clothes. Instead of heathens, they now looked like Red Indians; for they had remembered the dry blankets in the haversacks, had taken them out, and were wrapped in them like a pair of braves.

They saw nothing of the angry farmer till he burst upon them through a thicket of brambles within a dozen yards of the fire, so busy were they with turning their steaming clothes.

The farmer's wrath rose higher at sight of the steam and smoke. A fire was the very thing he had defied the gipsies again and again to make on his land. He cracked his whip with a vicious snap, and rushed upon the scouts.

'I'll larn ye to make a fire on my land arter the many times I've a-warned ye,' he bellowed.

The attack and the outcry were both so sudden that the scouts were taken by surprise. Dick was on the side of the rush. He saw that an onslaught was meant, though he knew not why, and grabbed at his staff. He forgot to keep hold of the blanket, and it slid to the ground, and left him defenceless. Down came the hissing thong, and wrapped itself right round him, a regular rib-binder.

A yell of pain burst from the Wolf's lips; then he shut his teeth tight. The surprise had forced that first cry from him, and he did not intend to utter another. But the whip was already hissing through the air, and flight was the only thing possible; he made a spring clean across the heap of drying clothes, and fled.

'Tom, Tom,' panted a shrill voice behind, 'why will ye be so franzy? These be no gipsy lads. Look at their clothes a-dryin'!'

The farmer's wife, well knowing her husband's impetuous temper, had followed up, and at sight of her Dick tucked himself away behind a wide-stemmed beech.

The farmer looked down at the heap of steaming clothes, and was struck with the force of his wife's remark.

'Why, 'tis a sort o' uniform,' he muttered.

'O' course it's a uniform,' cried Chippy, who had stood his ground wrapped in his blanket and flourishing the tomahawk. 'It's the uniform o' Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts, an' what ye want to come 'ere for an' fetch my mate one acrost the ribs I'm blest if I know.'

'Bring my blanket here, Chippy,' called out Dick from his refuge. 'I dropped it in my hurry.'

'Why, ye see, I thought 'twor gipsy tramps startin' a fire in this copse, an' I've forbid it,' said the farmer slowly, scratching his head, and gradually getting hold of the idea that he had made a full-sized mistake.

'Tramps!' snorted Chippy in scorn, taking Dick's blanket, and marching across to his friend. 'D'ye reckon we look like tramps?' He simply bellowed the question, for he was immensely proud of his new scout's uniform, and quite forgot that at present he was arrayed only in a blanket.

'They've been in the wet, and they're dryin' their clothes,' went on the farmer's wife. 'Come home, Tom, an' leave 'em be; they'll do no harm.'

The farmer was already regretting his hasty blow, but, being a man who could never be made to express the opinion that he was in the wrong, he said nothing, merely turned away, and beat a retreat.

'Here's your blanket, Dick,' said the Raven. 'I felt ready, I can tell ye, to chuck the chopper at that confounded old hayseed of a farmer.'

'He did fetch me one for luck,' said Dick, rubbing the weal which now began to show up on his body. 'It seems we're trespassing.'

'Not to do any harm,' growled the Raven. 'But he's off now; the wife's fetchin' him away. She seems a good sort.'

The two scouts went back to their fire, and again turned the clothes, which were drying fast. Before long they were able to dress again, and march on their way.



CHAPTER XL

THE SCOUTS' SECOND CAMP

They had gone half a mile from the copse, when their attention was drawn to a bramble-brake which seemed to be alive. It shook, it twisted, it rocked to and fro. They went up to the spot, and found a fat ewe on her back in the heart of it. She was struggling furiously but quite hopelessly; the brambles were wrapped about her fleecy body like cords of steel, and would hold her there till she died of exhaustion.

'I suppose she belongs to the chap who waled me,' said Dick. 'Well, I can take my knot out all right this time, Chippy. I'll chuck the cut of the whip and the sheep in as a good turn.'

'He don't deserve it,' cried Chippy; 'but we've got the poor beast to think of, an' that's a scout's job.'

The boys set to work at once, and it took them a good half-hour with knife and axe to free the terrified creature. At last they had it out of the brake, and placed it on an open patch of grassy land, and left it to recover.

Within a mile again they were surprised to enter a dry, dusty land once more. They had passed the region of the thunder-burst. It had been a local shower, not general, and the point where it had ended was shown in quite a sharp line drawn across the way they were following.

'All the better for us,' said Chippy. 'We can camp to-night, instead o' havin' to look for a barn or hay-loft, or suthin'.'

In the distance a yellow van was jogging over the moor. It was moving along a road which crossed their track at right angles.

'That's a baker's van,' said Dick. 'Let's tun on and catch it. If we can get a loaf, we shall be set up, and can break our march where we like.'

'Righto,' said the Raven; 'the flour's all gone.' And the scouts ran forward. They caught the van at the crossroads, and bought a threepenny loaf. Dick entered the purchase in his notebook; they had now spent two shillings and a penny three-farthings, and had plenty of food in hand for their fourth day. From this point on they surveyed the country with a single idea—the finding of a good spot for a camp.

They had now reached the border of the moor, and the land was studded by woods, coppices, and coverts. Pheasants flew across their path, and rabbits ambled about in every direction; for evening was coming on, and the bunnies were swarming from their burrows.

'Sportin' country, this,' observed Chippy; and Dick agreed.

Suddenly the boys came on a little brook, and both said, 'Here we are,' for they knew that somewhere along the brook there would be a spot to suit them. They left the road, and followed the little stream for three or four hundred yards, and then pulled up at a smooth grassy patch on the sunny side of a pine-wood. In the evening light the great tall red trees stood up quiet and splendid, and the scouts knew that their dark depths would make a happy hunting-ground for firewood and bedding.

They started their fire, and collected a huge pile of dried sticks with which to feed it. They gathered armfuls of pine-tips from the lower branches, but could find no logs for a framework; so they made the bed much broader, and worked in some strong dried branches at the side, and hoped the plan would answer well. They tested it by rolling on the bed, and all seemed firm and steady. Then, with ravening appetites, they turned to preparations for supper.

Bread and tea were easy enough to prepare, but how were they going to cook the eels? Chippy had been enthusiastic over the delicious richness of fried eels, and there was the billy to fry them in, but what were they going to do for grease?

'A bit o' lard, now,' murmured Chippy.

'Wait a bit,' said Dick. 'I'll put you right, cook.'

He opened his haversack, and took out a small tin box. 'Here you are,' said Dick. 'Mutton fat. I boiled it down myself. Grand stuff to rub on your feet if you get a sore place, but we haven't wanted it yet.'

'No, we ain't tenderfeet,' grunted the Raven.

'Hope not,' said Dick. He opened the box and smelled the contents.

'Has it gone bad?' asked his companion.

'Not a bit of it,' replied the Wolf; 'sweet as a nut. Here's a lump for your pan.' And he dug out a piece of the solid mutton fat with his knife.

The eels were washed and skinned, and soon were hissing and spluttering delightfully in the mutton fat in the billy. The two biggest eels, weighing more than half a pound each, were treated in this manner, and proved quite as good as Chippy had promised. While the hungry scouts devoured them, some smaller ones were set on to boil, for the Raven had heard boiled eels were good also, though he hadn't tried them. So the billy was rubbed round and three parts filled with water, and on went some more eels in a new form of cookery. When it came to the test of eating, the scouts did not think the boiled were quite so tasty as the fried, but they vanished before their raging appetites, and the two boys ate every eel they had sniggled.

They built up their fire and turned in before the daylight had gone, for they were fatigued by the long journey they had made that day.

'If a scritch-owl turns up this time,' chuckled Chippy, 'we'll just turn over and let 'im scritch.'

'And if a jackass rambles round, we won't be frightened and make three instead of one,' laughed Dick.

About one in the morning Dick was aroused from sleep by finding that he was very uncomfortable. The bed lacked the support of the side-logs, and the pine-tops had worked loose, and Dick had worked through them, and was lying on the ground. His hip-joint was aching, and the discomfort had awakened him.

'Hallo,' thought Dick, on recognising what had happened, 'I've reached the bottom shelf. I shall have to dig that little hole about the size of a teacup which B.-P. recommends for you to tuck your hip-joint in.' He turned over on his back and lay still for a few moments.

The night was very still and bright, and the moon was low down in the west, but clear, and shining strongly. The Raven was soundly asleep, and his breathing was deep and regular. Dick sat up and looked at the fire. It had burned down to a mass of embers hidden under a coating of ashes. He rolled out of his blanket, got up, and threw an armful of sticks on the fire. They began to crackle at once, and he stood for an instant to watch them.

Suddenly he lifted his head and sniffed: the wind was tainted as it blew lightly towards him along the lee of the wood: he could smell tobacco-smoke.

'Who's about?' thought Dick. 'What does it mean? We're far off from any village according to the map. But that's tobacco, and no mistake. I'll have a look round.'

He glanced at his companion, but Chippy was still wrapped in heavy slumber.

Dick stepped forward, then paused. 'No, I won't wake him,' murmured the Wolf. 'It would be a shame to fetch him up for nothing. I'll see who's in the neighbourhood first.'

Dick slipped on his shoes, drew the laces tight, for they were rove scout fashion, tucked in the ends, took his staff, and began to creep up-wind like a hare stealing from its form.



CHAPTER XLI

THE POACHERS

As Dick moved along the edge of the wood, the smell of tobacco grew stronger, and below a small ash he stopped with a jump of his heart. There was a scratch and spurtle of a match at his very feet, as it seemed.

Beyond the ash lay a big clump of brambles, and Dick peered over them. He discovered that the growth of brambles masked a deep hollow, and in the hollow lay three men, one of whom was smoking, and had just relighted his pipe. Dick checked himself just as he was about to give a low whistle of surprise and wonder. The men were blacks. The moon shone full into the hollow and showed ebony faces, in which white teeth glittered, as they spoke to each other in whispers. Then the smoker raised his hand to press down the tobacco in his pipe, and here again was a fresh surprise, for the hand was the hand of a white man.

Now Dick understood. These men had met for some evil purpose, and had blacked their faces as a disguise.

'Something wrong,' said Dick to himself. 'Those fellows are out for no honest purpose. Scout's job here.'

As the thought passed through the Wolf's mind, one of the men sat up and growled an oath. 'Wheer are they got to?' he said. 'Here, 'tis nigh on ha'-past one, an' Young Bill and Smiley ain't turned up yet.'

'We'll start wi'out 'em if they don't show up soon,' grunted a second speaker.

'As far as old Smiley goes we can do wi'out him all right,' returned the first man, 'but we must ha' Young Bill. He's got the stren'th o' half a dozen to pull.'

At that very moment Smiley and Young Bill were standing open-mouthed before the scouts' fire with the sleeping Raven at their feet. Smiley was a little twisted old fellow, but Young Bill was a gigantic navvy, powerful as a five-year-old bull. Their faces, too, were blacked in readiness for the night's work. Three minutes after Dick had crept away, they had slipped along the brook under the wood, turned a sharp corner, and come full upon the camp just as a bright light sprang up from the new sticks with which Dick had fed the fire.

'Wot's this?' growled Young Bill; 'a fire, an' somebody on the watch.'

Chippy had been sleeping uneasily for some time, for Dick's movements had disturbed, though not awakened, him. At the sound of the new-comer's voice he awoke, flung off his blanket, and leapt to his feet. But Young Bill was upon him at once, and pinned him with a grip of iron.

It was a terrifying experience for the Raven—to awake from sleep to find his companion gone and himself in the hands of two fellows whose blackened faces had a horrifying look in the dancing firelight.

'Wotcher doin' here?' demanded Young Bill, giving his captive a shake which rattled together the teeth in Chippy's head.

'Sleepin',' replied the Raven calmly.

'Who set ye here?'

'Nobody: set myself.'

Chippy's eyes shot swift glances on every side. Where was Dick? What had become of his friend? Was he free or a captive? If free, he must be warned, and Chippy acted at once. He let out a wild wolf-howl, which was promptly checked by Smiley. The latter gripped Chippy by the throat with both hands, shutting off the call, and half strangling the caller.

'See, he's givin' a signal,' cried Smiley. 'They're out for us, Bill. They've put this kid on the watch!'

The young giant was furious. He shook the Raven savagely, and struck him a cruel blow on the side of the head. While Chippy was still reeling and dizzy from this assault, he felt a handkerchief passed over his mouth, and it was quickly tied behind his head: Smiley had gagged him.

'Bring him along,' said Smiley. 'We're close to the place where t'others are. Let's see if they know aught.'

Dick had been immensely startled to hear his patrol call ring out from the direction of the camp, and then hear it suddenly checked. He turned and raced back, but silently and warily, and soon saw the two men advancing with Chippy, gagged and helpless, dragged along between them.

Dick dodged behind a tree, let them pass, then followed closely in the rear.

The astonishment of the three waiting men was very great when their companions arrived with the prisoner. Smiley told the story, laying stress on the warning cry which he had cut short with his throttling clutch. The general opinion was that Chippy had been posted there as a spy, and threats of vengeance were breathed against him.

'Seems to me,' said Smiley, 'we'd better call it no go to-night. They're on the watch; this is a sure proof of it. We'll ne'er drag yon stretch in safety.'

'I ain't goin' back,' burst out Young Bill, in his thick, savage tones; 'ye can clear out yerself as soon as ye like, Smiley. Yer wor' allus a white-livered un. I'm gooin' to net yon pool to-night if I ha' to do it by myself.'

The three who had been waiting agreed with Young Bill, and Smiley said he was willing to try if all were willing.

'What are we goin' to do with this nipper?' asked one of the men.

'I'll show yer,' growled the big navvy. 'I'll bring 'im along, an' ye bring the things on.'

A great pile of nets had been lying on the ground, and the three men gathered the nets up, and led the way, while the two last-comers followed with the prisoner.

Dick had watched closely all that went on, and had listened to every word and followed up, using every patch of cover to keep closely in the rear, and burning to strike in on behalf of his brother scout and friend.

For three hundred yards the party tramped along the bank of the little brook, and then a broad, silvery stretch of water opened out before them. The brook ran into a river at the head of a long pool noted for its big trout, and the men were poachers, whose aim was to net this reach of a famous trout-stream. One and all were idle rascals whose boast was that they never did a stroke of honest work while there was 'fish, fur, or feather' to be stolen from the estates of the countryside.

To-night they had come to their rendezvous feeling particularly safe. A confederate had been posted right on the other side of the estate with instructions to stumble on the alarm-guns set there. These guns were to be set off about a quarter-past one, and the poachers expected that the keepers would be drawn to the sound of the guns, and thus leave them undisturbed at their quiet task of netting the Squire's finest trout-pool. So that when they hit upon the Raven, and persuaded themselves that he was a spy posted near the trout-stream, they were full of vicious fury.

'Fust thing, we'll make sure o' this young limb,' said the navvy, when they had reached the bank of the pool. 'He shall nayther hoot nor run to carry news of us.'

So, with the aid of Smiley, he soon had Chippy lashed to a small beech, the handkerchief fastened tightly over his mouth so that he could neither stir nor speak.

Ten yards away, in cover of a thick patch of hazels, Dick watched everything. He drew out his knife, opened it, and ran his thumb along the keen edge. 'All right, my fine fellows,' he said to himself, 'get to your work'—for the nets had shown him what they meant to do—'and my chum will be free in a brace of shakes.'

But Dick reckoned without Smiley. That small, sly old poacher was not there to work; his task was to keep guard. So while the other four undid their bundle of nets, and prepared for a big haul, Smiley moved with the tread of a cat to and fro, watching the prisoner, listening, looking, turning his head this way and that, to detect the first sign or sound of danger. The beech to which the Raven was bound stood by itself on the bank, well away from other trees. This rendered it impossible for Dick to creep up unseen. He would have to dash out into the moonlight, and the wary watcher would see him and alarm the rest. No, there was nothing to do but wait awhile and look out for a chance to slip in, knife in hand. So Dick kept still in cover and watched the poachers as they worked busily in the light of the sinking moon.



CHAPTER XLII

DRAGGING THE POOL—A LITTLE SURPRISE

First a net was stretched across the head of the pool. Young Bill jumped into the water and waded across waist deep with one end of the net, while a confederate paid it out from the bank. The foot of the net was loaded with leaden weights, and lay close to the bed of the stream: the top was buoyed with corks and floated on the surface. Thus, when the net was carried across and pegged into the opposite bank, a wall of fine mesh lay across the stream.

Now the big navvy waded back, and a second net—a drag-net—was carried to the foot of the pool. This time three of them plunged into the water, and drew the net across the stream. Of the three, two remained in the water, the third clambered out on the opposite bank. The net was arranged, and then the four poachers began to draw it slowly up-stream, one working on each bank and two in the water.

Now, trout always lie with their noses pointing upstream, and when alarmed dash away in that direction. But this time there was a wall of net to intercept their flight, and as the drag-net was brought up and up, the fish would be enclosed between the two nets and caught.

While these preparations were going on, Dick had watched eagerly for a chance that never came. Smiley remained too close to the gagged and pinioned captive for Dick to chance a rush, and the poacher was armed with a heavy stick.

'I wish the moon would go down,' thought Dick, and glanced over his shoulder towards the west. He started, and looked again. Two figures were creeping almost on hands and knees across a moonlit patch of turf, quite close to him.

'Keepers!' whispered Dick to himself. 'Here come the keepers!' for the velveteens and gaiters of the crawling men announced who they were. Dick was hidden in complete shade, and the patch of hazels where he lay hid the new-comers both from the watcher and the working poachers. Dick's heart gave a leap of joy.