Soldiers of the Queen Part 20

"What have you been doing to those chaps?" asked Jack, as the horses slowed down and the yell was repeated.

"One of them cheeked me, and I hit him with my stick."

"Well, we'd better slip away as soon as this thing stops; we don't want to have a row with them here."

Unfortunately for the three boys, their steeds stopped just opposite the hostile group. Jack pushed through them with an expression of lofty contempt, an example followed by Rosher; but Raymond was stupidly led into a further exchange of incivilities.

"Don't you give me any more of your confounded impudence, you miserable little cads, or I'll give you another taste of this stick."

The "cads" answered with a shout of derisive laughter, and a few more straggling clansmen joining the band, they followed after the three friends, keeping at a safe distance, and repeating their cries of "Yah!

Thatches! Hit one yer own size!" and other remarks of a similar nature.

"We can't go on like this," said Jack. "They'll follow us all round the fair. Shall we charge the beggars?"

"No," answered Raymond. "Let's go into the circus, and that'll put them off the track. You fellows pay, and I'll owe it you; I don't want to change my sovereign here."

Rosher paid for three s.h.i.+lling seats, and the trio entered the big circular tent, thus for the time being effectually escaping from the pursuing band of unfriendly natives.

The performance had just commenced, and though the display was by no means brilliant, yet the boys enjoyed it, and soon forgot the existence of everything except clowns, acrobats, and trained horses.

"_I say_!" exclaimed Rosher suddenly, "d'you know what the time is?

It's close on nine o'clock!"

"By jingo!" answered Jack, "we must do a bolt."

"No, don't go," interposed Raymond; "you can't get back in time now, so you may as well stay and see the end. If you'll come round by my lodgings, I'll get my guv'nor to write a letter of excuse."

"I don't want any more of your letters," murmured Jack, "it's too risky. We'd better hook it."

"No, stay; you can't get back in time now, so what's the good of losing part of the performance?"

After some further discussion, Jack and Rosher decided to remain, and so kept their seats until the end of the performance. It was quite dark when they emerged from the tent, and every part of the fair was lit up with flaring paraffin lamps. They had not gone very far when, as ill-luck would have it, a shrill cry of "Hallo! Thatches!" showed that they had been sighted by some small scout of the enemy.

"I've got some coppers left," said Rosher; "let's have a shot at the cocoa-nuts."

They stopped opposite a pitch, and began bowling at the fruit. The first two or three s.h.i.+es were unsuccessful; then Jack knocked down a nut.

"I'm not going to let you beat me!" cried Rosher. "Here; mister, give me some more b.a.l.l.s."

A fresh group of town boys were hovering about in the rear, their number being now augmented by one or two of a larger size.

"Yah! Thatch! you can't hit 'em! Come 'ere and let's see that stick you was talking about."

"I say," whispered Raymond to his cousin, "wouldn't it be a lark to pretend to make a good shot, and knock that lamp over." He pointed as he spoke to one of the flaring oil lamps which, fastened to a stake a few feet above the ground, illuminated the line of nuts.

"No, don't do it," answered Jack; but the warning came too late.

Raymond threw with all his might, and, as ill-luck would have it, the aim was only too true; the heavy wooden ball hit the lamp a sounding whack, dashed it from its stand, and the next moment the canvas screen at the back of the pitch against which it fell was all in a blaze.

In an instant all was confusion. Quick as thought Raymond turned, and slipped away between the wheels of a caravan which stood close by. The proprietor of the pitch sprang forward and seized Jack by the coat.

"'Ere, you did that," he cried, "and you did it a purpose."

The crowd of juvenile roughs closed in behind.

"Yes, 'e did it," they cried; "'e's the man."

"I didn't do it," retorted the boy. "Leave go!"

Rosher leaned forward, and giving his friend a nudge, uttered the one word,--

"_Bolt_!"

Jack's blood was up. He wrenched himself free of the man's grasp, and plunged into the little crowd of riff-raff, striking heavy blows to right and left. Rosher did the same; and the enemy, who were nothing but a pack of barking curs, went down like ninepins, falling over one another in their efforts to escape.

The two fugitives rushed on, stumbling over tent-ropes and dodging round the booths and stalls, until they came to the outskirts of the fair. Then they paused to take breath and consider what was to be done next. The glare of the burning canvas and a noise of distant shouting, which could be clearly distinguished above the other babel of sounds, showed the quarter from which they had come.

"Where's Raymond?" cried Jack.

"I don't know," answered Rosher; "we can't wait here, or we shall be collared."

"Didn't you see what became of him? I don't like the thought of leaving the fellow--"

The sentence was never finished; for at that moment two men suddenly appeared from behind a neighbouring stall. One was arrayed in a blue uniform with bright b.u.t.tons, and his companion was at once recognized by the boys as being the proprietor of the cocoa-nut pitch.

"Here they are!" shouted the latter, catching hold of the policeman's arm; "now we've got 'em!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Here they are! now we've got them!'"]

Quick as thought the two schoolfellows turned and dashed off at the top of their speed. Beyond the outskirts of the fair all lay in darkness; a high hedge loomed in front of them. Jack scrambled up the bank, crashed through the thorn bushes, and fell heavily to the ground on the other side. In an instant he had regained his feet, and was running for his life with Rosher by his side. In this manner they crossed three fields, stumbling over uneven places in the ground, scratching their hands, and tearing their clothes in the hedges, and at length landed nearly up to their knees in a ditch half-full of mud and water.

"It's no good, Fenleigh, I can't go any further. I'm completely pumped."

Struggling on to a bit of rising ground, the fugitives halted and turned round to listen. The glare of light and noise of the fair had been left some distance behind them, and there were no sounds of pursuit. The night was very dark, and everything in their immediate neighbourhood was quiet and still.

"We must get to the town some other way," said Jack. "Doesn't the road to Hornalby pa.s.s somewhere here on the right?"

"I don't know," answered Rosher; "we ought to strike some road or other if we keep going in that direction."

The boys continued their flight, varying their walk by occasionally breaking into a jog-trot. At length they found themselves in a narrow lane; but after wandering down it for nearly half a mile, their further progress was barred by the appearance of a private gate.

"Botheration!" cried Jack, "we've come wrong; this leads to some farm.

We shall never get home at this rate."

Retracing their steps the way they had come, the two unfortunate adventurers at length found themselves on the Hornalby road; but when they reached Melchester, and were hurrying down the side street past "Duster's" shop, the cathedral clock struck half-past eleven.

"Oh, my!" said Rosher; "how shall we get in? Everybody will be in bed.

We shall have to knock up old Mullins at the lodge."